THE HUNTING SEASON
By Pink Panther
I disclaim, we disclaim, everybody disclaims! I haven't done it for a while, so I thought I might as well. So if you shouldn't be reading this, you'd probably better not. If you do, it's down to you if the blue meanies catch up with you.
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It was Monday afternoon. With the first-year games class at an end, the boys trooped back to the changing rooms and began to strip off their football kit. Having turned on the showers, Richard Needham took up his customary place in the drying area. A couple of minutes later, his charges began to make their way through.
Among the first to emerge was Bradshaw, who stood chatting happily with Thorpe and Monk as they towelled themselves dry. The games master had never paid Bradshaw that much attention. The youngster had yet to reach the stage of development that he found most attractive. Instead, he'd focused his attention on the precociously developed Beckett and the twelve-year old's larger-than-average uncut penis, a line of incipient pubic hair directly above, a pair of well-formed balls hanging below.
But the cross-country race the previous week had altered Mr Needham's perception. Not only had Bradshaw won the race, he'd run one of the fastest times ever recorded by a first-year. And so, with nobody more appealing to look at, he studied the lad carefully.
Although much the same size as his companions, it was obvious that Bradshaw was more developed `down there' than either Thorpe or Monk. Mr Needham looked on approvingly, speculating that the youngster might not be far from his first ejaculation. And he felt sure that by the time Bradshaw started second year, he would have reached that most alluring stage of a boy's development.
At that point, Bradshaw bent down to dry his feet, his back turned to the games master. Mr Needham's eyes widened. His throat was dry, his heart rate considerably elevated. There was no mistake; he'd just seen it again. He was almost panic-stricken. Bradshaw, the best athlete and footballer in the year, had been anally penetrated.
He recalled the mantra that he'd learned at teacher training college: `Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.' Having not seen anything of the sort in the previous ten years, in a little over twelve months, he'd spotted three boys, all first-years at the time, who had been similarly violated. The question was, who was responsible? Was it possible that these individuals had some connection outside school that might account for it?
He needed to be sure. As soon as he'd dismissed the class, he strode back to the school and made his way to the office. Seeing the secretary busy typing, he opened the filing cabinet and looked in turn at the records of Whitney, Pennington and Bradshaw. It confirmed what he'd already suspected. They all lived in different parts of town and had attended different junior schools. Whatever, or whoever connected them, had to be right there at Woodchurch Boys' Grammar School.
It could have been one of their older pupils, he postulated. He quickly dismissed the idea. An older boy might have sex with one of the younger ones without attracting attention. It was inconceivable that he'd be able to do it with three of them without anyone noticing. In any case, how would he have managed to pick up three such disparate individuals? It didn't make sense.
That could only mean it was a member of staff. So who was it? The answer hit him in the face like a wet football sock. It was Alex Faulkner. Not only was he Whitney's form-master, he taught Bradshaw one-to-one, and coached the under-12 football team of which Bradshaw was a member. And that tied in Pennington. Although the lad was no more than a mediocre footballer, he trained with the squad.
It also explained why the man had been so keen to take the under-12 team when coaching the second eleven would have been much the easier option. The timing was significant too. His sightings had begun shortly after Mr Faulkner had joined the staff. The idol, it appeared, had feet of clay. Praised to the heavens by the pupils he taught and coached, and lauded by the school's senior staff, in reality, Mr Faulkner was like a fox that had been allowed access to the chicken-coop.
He thought about the three boys. Despite his athletic-looking physique, Whitney was studious and bookish and hated all sports. Pennington went through the motions of playing football, but in reality, he was far too soft to be any good at it. They would both have been easy prey for a man like Mr Faulkner.
By contrast, Bradshaw was not the type at all; a good footballer, an excellent athlete and as tough as they come. How had he become a victim? Alex Faulkner was charming, charismatic even. Boys pretty well ate out of his hand. Teaching Bradshaw one-to-one, he must, quite literally, have charmed the pants off him. Having done so, he'd subjected his star pupil to the ultimate indignity. He'd buggered him, and it seemed that Bradshaw must have consented. In Mr Needham's view, that merely demonstrated how dangerous and untrustworthy Mr Faulkner was.
The thought appalled him. He enjoyed looking at boys, but never once had he gone any further. Looking at them couldn't do any harm. A few had seemed rather embarrassed when they noticed him doing it, but that could hardly do any lasting damage. One could not say the same of Mr Faulkner's activities.
In one way, the situation with Pennington was the most alarming of all. Mr Faulkner didn't teach the lad. Their only connection was through the football training squad. Although Mr Needham couldn't envisage how it had happened, that had to be where the man had drawn the youngster into his web. Worse still, it seemed more than possible that sex would have taken place in the pavilion changing rooms. Mr Needham took that as a personal affront. The man had come into his domain and used it for his own nefarious purposes. It was an outrage!
What he could do about it was more of a problem. He'd have liked to report what he'd seen to the Headmaster, but he couldn't do that without admitting that he paid the boys rather more attention than would have been considered appropriate. In any case, although he was convinced that it was Alex Faulkner who was responsible for violating Whitney, Bradshaw and Pennington, he had absolutely no evidence.
He assessed the situation. Mr Faulkner was one of those energetic, successful young teachers that Mr Cope most admired. He, on the other hand, had clashed with the Headmaster over relaxations to the school's uniform policy. First, Mr Cope had obtained the support of the school governors for a proposal that pupils should no longer be required to wear the school cap, and the following year he had persuaded them to allow second-years to wear long trousers. Mr Needham regarded these changes as a lowering of standards, a view that he had expressed quite forcefully at the time. Against this background, he was worried that voicing his concerns about Mr Faulkner might backfire very badly.
So what was he going to do? Much as he disliked the idea, for the moment he would confine himself to doing the one thing that lay within his power. At the end of the current season, he would end Mr Faulkner's involvement with the current first-year football team. The man had already buggered two members of the squad. More would surely follow if he was allowed to keep coaching them.
Of course, were one of the pupils to make a complaint, he'd review his decision not to speak out, and in all probability Mr Faulkner would be sent packing. But given the man's status among the boys, there seemed to be little likelihood of it happening. Until it did, all he could do was to keep him from coaching any of the younger lads.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was Tuesday morning. Alex headed to the staffroom to collect his form's register. Richard Needham was heading towards him.
"Good morning!" Alex said brightly.
The games master didn't reply. Instead, he gave Alex a look that Medusa would have been proud of. Alex was shocked. He knew that Mr Needham could be quite gruff, but he'd never seen the man act like that before. In fact, they'd always got on pretty well.
After a moment to gather his thoughts, Alex was pretty sure he knew the reason. During the course of his boy-watching activities the previous afternoon, Mr Needham must have noticed something that Alex would have preferred him not to see.
It must have been Bradshaw, he reasoned. Mr Needham had known about Whitney for a year or so, but if it was Pennington's bottom that he'd seen that Monday afternoon, it was most unlikely that he would have made the connection. However, as he was Whitney's form master and taught Bradshaw one-to-one, it wouldn't have taken a genius to realise that he had a strong connection to both of them. Of course, there was no evidence that he had done anything untoward. Mr Needham had jumped to conclusions. Unfortunately, those conclusions just happened to be correct.
Alex knew that Bradshaw was aware of Mr Needham's penchant for looking at the boys while they were naked. The lad had mentioned it a couple of times. Alex had thought about warning him not to let the games master see his bottom, but had decided not to.
To do so would have risked making the boy self-conscious. He didn't want that. As far as he knew, Bradshaw had no idea that his bottom would look any different from the other boys', and he was more than happy for that to continue.
The one saving grace, Alex considered, was that Mr Needham was not in a position to tell anyone what he'd seen. The previous year, after Whitney had put on a little show to indicate that he knew what the man was up to, the games master had left him alone. Even so, Alex realised that he was in a tricky situation. If he wanted to survive, he'd have to tread very carefully.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
With classes over for the day, Alex sat in his classroom waiting for Bradshaw to arrive. A few minutes later, the boy strode into the room and sat down next to him.
"It's your birthday today, isn't it?" Alex enquired.
"Congratulations! And many happy returns!"
Alex picked up Bradshaw's exercise book and checked through his work. Of the twenty-five equations he'd been asked to solve, he'd done twenty-four correctly, making an arithmetical error in the other one. It was as good as any of the boys in 3-Red had managed.
They spent the next fifteen minutes using the method of completing the square to derive a general formula for solving quadratic equations. It was a piece of work he hadn't even attempted with his third-year class on the grounds that is wasn't necessary and most of them wouldn't have been able to follow it. Bradshaw absolutely revelled in it.
"Okay!" Alex said, smiling. "That's it for today."
"Aren't you going to give me any homework, sir?"
"It's your birthday," Alex said warmly. "Give yourself a night off."
"What about work for me to do during classes?"
"Oh, I'll give you some revision sheets to work through. We'll see how much you can remember."
"Sir, can't I try to do the exercise on using the formula?"
"Without us working through any examples first?"
"Yes sir!" I mean, it's only a matter of substituting in the numbers for a, b and c."
"Fair enough!" Alex said, bowled over by the youngster's confidence and enthusiasm. "We'll see how you get on. But not tonight, okay?"
"Okay sir. Sir, can we go into the storeroom now?"
"Sure. I'll give you your birthday present."
"Will that be the present you usually give me, sir?" Bradshaw asked, grinning mischievously.
"Why don't you come and find out?" Alex suggested.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Michael arrived home at five past four. He wasn't happy. Chris had been asked to run in a cross-country race for the school, and for reasons he couldn't fathom Chris had agreed to do it. The race was on a Saturday morning. For the past six months, Michael and Chris had spent Saturday mornings together. Michael had changed his routine so that they could. During the warmer weather they sometimes had sex in the woods, but mainly they just pottered around, playing cards or whatever else. It was all very relaxed and enjoyable. But on the Saturday of the race, that wouldn't be possible.
Had that been the end of the matter, Michael might have been able to accept it, but he knew it wouldn't be. Having agreed to run in one race, Chris would be asked, even expected, to run in others, especially if he did well. As time went on, it could take his one real friend away from him.
Fifteen minutes later, Chris arrived. Michael led him up to his bedroom. After a cursory kiss, they stripped off and snuggled up on the bed. Michael was still sulking. The tension was palpable.
"Mike," Chris said, a note of exasperation in his voice. "It's only one race, and it's not till after half term."
"It's only one race for now," Michael objected. "What's going to happen when they ask you to run in more races?"
"I'll deal with it when it happens," Chris told him. "In any case, it won't be until we're in third year. The cross-country season's almost over."
"I still don't understand why you have to do it," Michael said sullenly.
"I didn't have to do it. That was the whole point. Nobody tried to make me. Mr Daniels asked me if I would. I said that I didn't mind running, but I didn't want to take a place one of his regular runners should have had. He told me not to worry about it, and we left it there. Then yesterday lunchtime, Locke and Sherwood came and asked me if I'd run. You know; you were there. They said they wanted me to run and Coulter did too. They're decent kids. What was I supposed to do?"
"Tell them you didn't want to do it."
Chris looked Michael straight in the eye, wrapping his arms around his taller friend's shoulders.
"Well I didn't," he said quietly. "I agreed to do it because I thought it was the right thing to do. So can we stop talking about it now, please?"
Michael didn't answer. He knew he couldn't win. Chris had made his mind up and that was that. He'd just have to put a brave face on it. But he still didn't like it. Chris was giving up spending time with him to go and run in a bloody cross-country race. That hurt!
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
It was Wednesday afternoon, quarter to five. Under-12 football training had just finished. With daylight almost gone, they made their way back to the pavilion. Alex considered what to do about Pennington. Should he have sex with him as usual? If he did, there was a danger that Mr Needham might catch them in the act.
On reaching the pavilion, he unlocked the changing room, ushering the boys inside.
"Okay lads," he said firmly. "Well done today! Now strip off and into the showers."
The lads were well practised at this. As the football pitch had been firm with very little mud, they hadn't got really dirty and so most of them were in and out of the showers very quickly. As usual, Pennington took his time, only making it back to the changing room as the last of the other boys was heading out of the door.
"We can't do it here," Alex said to him, lowering his voice. "Get dressed as quickly as you can. Then meet me outside the Kings Head. I'll pick you up."
"Just do it. I'll explain when we're in the car."
Pennington dressed quickly.
"I'll be there in five minutes," Alex told him as soon as the lad was ready.
Having locked the changing room door, Alex made his way to the car park. He settled himself in his car and started the engine. Not wanting to arrive at the Kings Head before Pennington, he waited for a couple of minutes. Finally, he set off for the short drive, his heart pounding. He was relieved to find the chestnut-haired boy waiting for him. He opened the front passenger door, the lad got in and they were on their way.
"I didn't want to do it in the changing room," he explained quietly, "because I think Mr Needham may have worked out what we've been up to."
"I'm not really sure. I think he may have seen your bottom."
"You mean . . . ?"
"Yes, it can be pretty obvious to someone who knows what he's looking for. This time last year, Whitney asked me why Mr Needham kept giving him dirty looks. I'm pretty sure that was the reason."
"Oh, he does that to me too. And when we do gym, he's always barking at me and telling me to pull my finger out. But he's got no room to talk, has he sir? He always stares at us when we come out of the showers, especially Beckett."
"But as far as I know, that's all he does," Alex cautioned. "Actually doing anything seems to be a line he doesn't cross, and he has a pretty low opinion of teachers that do cross it. I'm not sure how he worked it out, but yesterday morning, I was going to collect my form's register. Mr Needham was coming the other way, so I said `Good morning'. He just looked at me as though I'd crawled from under a rock. I can't think of any other reason that he'd have done that."
"We'd have still been okay sir. He takes gym club on Wednesdays. They don't finish till quarter past five."
"That's not a risk I'd want to take," Alex responded. "He could have ended the session early and come marching over to the pavilion. Okay, we'd have been locked in so he wouldn't have actually seen anything, but it wouldn't have looked good, would it, the two of us being locked in a changing room together?"
"No sir. So where are we going?"
"My flat. We'll have to make it quick. Afterwards, I'll drop you off near where you live."
"Okay sir. Are we going to do this every week?"
"Yes, I think we'll have to. So next week, get showered and changed as fast as you can. Then wait for me outside the Kings Head, okay?"
"Yes, sir. I understand."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
For Alex, the rest of the week proved uneventful. He'd stayed out of Richard Needham's way, and the games master had stayed out of his. On Saturday morning, the Woodchurch under-12 football team played an away match against Langstone Park, who were having a good season. Although the Woodchurch boys weren't able to dominate the way they had the previous Saturday, in a highly competitive match, they won by two goals to one. As far as Alex was concerned, it was a more than satisfactory result.
After lunch, he put on some music and relaxed in this armchair. Martin (aka Mr Brown) was due to arrive at quarter past two, bringing ten-year old Long with him. Alex was somewhat apprehensive. Martin had assured him that the lad was now properly prepared, but the young choirmaster's word on such matters was not one that Alex felt he could totally rely on.
Just before two o'clock, the doorbell rang. Alex opened the door, ushering Whitney inside. They strolled through to the lounge.
"Looking forward to seeing Long again?" Alex asked, turning off the music.
"Oh yeah! He's cute, and very horny. How d'you want me to have him?"
"Mr Brown's been having him lying face down. I want you to do the same. I need to make sure he's okay with it."
"Are you going to have him like that?"
"No. Today I'm going to have him sitting on my cock, you know, the way you do with Mr Smith. You'll be on all-fours on the bed, sucking his cock while Mr Brown fucks your bottom."
"Reminds me of the first time I met Mr Smith."
"Exactly, except that each role will be taken by a different person. Anyway, if it all goes okay, next week they'll come here again so that we can finish the job."
"You mean getting him ready to meet Mr Smith?"
"Precisely! Well, they should be here soon. I'm going to put the kettle on."
Alex was still in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. He went to answer it. As expected, Mr Brown was accompanied by Long.
"I'm just making a pot of tea," Alex said, leading them through to the lounge. "Do you want some?"
"Yes please," his guests chorused.
"Good to see you again," Alex said warmly, turning to the slightly built ten-year old.
"Good to see you too, sir," Long responded, smiling at his host.
"And how d'you like your tea?"
"White, two sugars."
Alex disappeared into the kitchen feeling much more at ease. Long, he'd observed, didn't look in the least bit nervous, which was most encouraging. This might go rather well, he speculated. A couple of minutes later, he returned to the lounge carrying a tray on which were four mugs of tea. He handed them out. The boys were sitting on the sofa. Alex noticed that they were both already aroused.
"Last time you were wearing shorts," Long queried.
"Oh, I don't wear them anymore," Michael told him. "They're too small. After Christmas, Mum bought me some long trousers for school, but I'm not allowed to wear them when I'm riding my bike, so I put my jeans on. Anyway, I wouldn't want to wear shorts in this weather. It's too cold."
"At our school, we have to wear shorts right up till we leave."
"But we don't. At our school, second years are allowed to wear long trousers. Most of us do, apart from the smaller kids. But I'm one of the tallest in our year, and last term, wearing shorts, I stood out like a sore thumb. It got a bit embarrassing. I've still got some shorts I can wear in the summer though."
Alex glowed with anticipation, his own penis already beginning to harden. Although a scrawny little rabbit, Long was clearly as keen as mustard, which was exactly the way he liked boys to be. All they had to do now was to give the lad what he'd come for.
Having finished their tea, they made their way to the bedroom. Alex sat in his armchair. Without hesitation, Long stood in front of him and smiled. Reaching across, Alex ran his hands up the ten-year old's thighs, delightfully smooth but very firm to the touch. The lad obviously didn't have an ounce of fat on him.
"Shoes and socks off, and your pullover," he instructed.
Long complied eagerly, dropping the items randomly on the floor. As he stood up again, Alex undid the clip at the top of the lad's shorts and pulled down the zip. They immediately slipped off the youngster's slender hips, puddling around his ankles. After stepping out of them, Long kicked them away.
"Pull your shirt up," Alex ordered.
Once again, Long obeyed without hesitation.
"Mmmmm!" Alex purred, running his fingers over the hard bulge in the lad's briefs. "You're hard already!"
"Yes sir," Long replied, giving his host a conspiratorial grin.
Alex licked his lips. As Long knew what was meant to happen, there was only one conclusion he could draw. The lad wanted it. Standing up, Alex undid the buttons on the boy's shirt and took it off his narrow shoulders. The lad's white cotton vest quickly followed, joining Long's other clothes on the floor.
Alex sat down again. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Long's sexy white briefs, he carefully skinned them down the ten-year old's coltish legs, the lad's penis springing up invitingly. Leaning forwards, Alex took it into his mouth. He sucked it right down to the root, his fingers tickling the youngster's perineum.
"Oooh, sir" the lad breathed appreciatively, his fingers stroking Mr White's hair.
After a minute or so, Alex let him go. He went to stand up.
"Stay where you are please sir," Long instructed, stopping him in his tracks.
Kneeling on the floor, Long quickly undid his host's fly-buttons. Then he reached inside to extract the man's rampant prong. After quickly running his tongue over the large shiny head, his lips closed over it. Holding the base between thumb and index-finger, he began to suck, going a little further down on each stroke.
Alex was in ecstasy. Having his cock sucked by a lad so young and so slightly built was very special. All too soon, he felt himself starting to get close.
"Okay," he said quietly. "You can stop now."
Letting the man's penis slide out of his mouth, Long gave him another cheeky grin.
"Mr Brown," Alex called to his associate. "I think it's time we moved things on."
Moments later, the boys were snuggled up on the bed, kissing passionately. After stripping off their clothes, the two teachers settled down to watch the show. Although the routine was familiar, it was still very exciting. Watching a cute, scrawny ten-year old preparing to be fucked by a good-looking, well-developed teenager; for Alex, nothing could be more arousing, his eyes riveted to the action.
After a few minutes, Long was down on all fours. Whitney, kneeling behind, was working his tongue into the younger boy's anus. Alex's mouth was dry with anticipation. He watched intently as Whitney sat back on his haunches, smearing K-Y over his hard penis. Kneeling up again, the teenager placed one of the pillows in front of the youngster's knees.
"Lie down," he said quietly.
Long immediately flopped down, one pillow supporting his head, the other under his hips, his legs spread apart. Michael lowered himself into position, guiding his cock onto the ten-year old's rosebud. Alex swallowed hard. This was it, the crunch. Retrieving Long's briefs from the floor, he watched with a mixture of excitement and apprehension as Whitney thrust his teen cock into the younger lad's bottom.
"Aaaahhhhhh!"" Long exhaled, a sort of extended gasp that spoke of a need satisfied, a longing fulfilled.
Grinning, Alex dumped Long's briefs back where he'd found them. Still grinning broadly, he turned to Martin, nodding his approval. In front of them, Whitney was warming to his task. Within a minute he was pounding the younger lad's bottom in a quite ferocious manner.
"Wow!" Martin whispered, leaning across to Alex. "Whitney's fucking him much harder than I do!"
"And he loves it!" Alex responded.
A moment later, Long shuddered from head to toe, his feet flailing, his fingers gripping the pillow beneath his head. Michael reacted in an instant, slamming hard into the slender boy's bottom, several ropes of teen spunk shooting powerfully into the ten-year old's rectum.
Michael's orgasm ended as abruptly as it had begun. He found himself lying exhausted, gasping for breath, his heart thumping against the younger lad's spine. As he began to regain control of his breathing, he gently lifted himself clear, his teen cock exiting Long's anus with an almost audible pop.
Michael was elated, triumphant, and as relaxed as he'd ever been. He simply didn't care what happened next. He'd just had the most fantastic fuck, as good as anything he'd ever experienced. And now he was going to get spit-roasted, Long's prick in his mouth, Mr Brown's up his arse. Well, he was more than ready. It was going to be a new experience for him, and that was exciting.
Having picked up the tube of K-Y, Alex guided Long back to his armchair, carefully placed a couple of feet from the bed. He sat the boy across his knees.
"Did you enjoy that?" he asked.
"Oh yes sir!" Long replied with obvious enthusiasm. "It was super!"
"Has Mr Brown explained to you what we're going to do now?"
"You're going to fuck me, aren't you sir?"
"Yes, but we're going to do it in a way I believe you haven't tried before. You've heard of Mr Smith, haven't you?"
"Yes sir. He's got a really big one, hasn't he? That's what Jessop told me. And Mr Brown says I'm going to meet him in a couple of weeks."
"Yes, that's right. Well, Mr Smith has a particular way he likes to do it, and that's what we're going to try, so you'll know what to expect when you meet him. But first you need to get me ready."
Removing the top from the K-Y tube he squeezed some onto Long's fingers. Smiling, the boy smeared it over his host's cock.
"Okay, stand up!" Alex ordered, replacing the top on the tube.
Obediently, Long got to his feet.
"Right, now turn your back to me, stand with your feet apart and very slowly sit down."
Turning his back towards Mr White, the lad carefully lowered himself, knowing full well what was coming. Just as he expected his recently violated anus encountered the man's large appendage.
"Now push down on it," Alex said quietly.
Taking a deep breath, Long did as he was asked. Suddenly, the head of Mr White's penis went into his bottom. It stung, stretching his anal ring much further than he was used to. He winced, but didn't cry out. More to the point, his penis was still rock-hard. It wasn't that bad, he told himself, and once he got used to it, he'd love it. That's what Jessop had said.
"Oh sir," he gasped. "Your weewee's so big!"
"Good boy," Alex purred, wrapping his left arm around the lad's scrawny chest. "Now when you're ready, push down a bit further."
After a few seconds, Long complied. He winced again. That stung too.
"Well done!" Alex cooed. "Just relax! You can do it!"
With his cock safely lodged in Long's boy-tunnel, Alex removed his right hand from the base of his penis. Unwrapping his left arm from around the boy's chest, he used both hands to hold the youngster firmly just below his armpits. Not only would this stop the boy going down too quickly, more important, it would prevent him from standing up.
Very slowly, Long pushed further down, taking Mr White's penis a centimetre at a time. With the lad almost fully impaled, Alex moved his hands again, pressing down on the lad's slender thighs.
"Oh yes!" he breathed, his pubic hair squished up against the ten-year old's bottom. "Good boy! You've taken it all! Well done! Now lift your feet and put them on the side of the bed."
Having done as he was asked, Long was surprised to find that he was much more comfortable, the stinging sensations considerably diminished. `Jessop was right', he thought. `I'm going to enjoy this'.
Directly in front of him, Michael was already down on all fours, his hands between the younger boy's feet, Mr Brown's cock up his bum. His eyes almost fell out. He had a perfect view of Long's slender thighs and skinny bottom, the kid's tight little boy-hole stretched around Mr White's man-sized prong. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, his penis twitching all by itself.
"Fuck!" he gasped. "That's unbelievable!"
"Come on, Whitney," Martin ordered. "You know what to do."
Lowering his head and shoulders, Michael's lips closed over the ten-year old's steel-hard prick, taking it right down to the root, Long instinctively putting his hands on the teenager's head.
"Okay!" Alex ordered. "You boys keep still. Mr Brown and I will do the work."
He set to it immediately, driving his ramrod upwards into Long's bottom, simultaneously forcing the youngster's joy-stick deeper into Whitney's mouth. Martin quickly joined in, fucking the tall thirteen-year old with hard, rhythmic thrusts.
Michael scarcely knew where he was, the sensations more than he could process, his cock beginning to throb without anyone so much as touching it. It couldn't last long, he told himself. He hoped it wouldn't, fearful that his brain might explode if it didn't end soon.
It didn't last long at all. After barely a minute, Long's fingers were clawing at his scalp, the youngster's penis swelling and jerking in his mouth. No sooner had it finished than Michael realised that Mr White was cumming, depositing his semen deep inside the ten-year old's bottom, and a few seconds after that, he felt Mr Brown's spunk spurting into his bum.
Martin was the first to withdraw, enabling Whitney to release Long's prick. Finally, Alex lifted the ten-year old off his super-sensitive cock. The lad was leaking profusely.
"Bend over that chair," Michael ordered, indicating the chair by the desk. "I'm going to clean you up."
With Long in position, Michael knelt down behind, eagerly licking his form master's spunk from the ten-year old's thighs, steadily working his way upwards until he was taking it directly from the youngster's still-distended boy-hole. After a minute or so, Long's anal ring recovered from its ordeal and closed up.
"Come on," Michael urged. "Let's go to the bathroom. Let me go first," he added as they entered. "I've still got all Mr Brown's spunk inside me."
Michael sat on the toilet, expelling the choirmaster's semen into the bowl.
"Don't take all day," Long said, pouting at him. "I've still got a load to get rid of. Mr White cums gallons!"
"D'you think I don't know?" Michael said, grinning. "I've taken it more times than I can count. How was it, anyway?"
"It hurt pretty bad when he stuck it in, but once we got started, it was incredible, the best ever! What about you?"
"Oh, I've never been spit-roasted before," Michael admitted, standing up to wipe his bum. "It was unbelievable! I thought the top of my head was going to fly off. And you are an amazing fuck!"
"Thanks!" Long said, grinning. "You can fuck me like that any time!"
Michael moved out of the way, standing in front of the basin to wash his penis. Long quickly took his place, more of Mr White's spunk rushing out of him.
"Your weewee's hard," he commented, admiring the older boy's prick. "D'you want to fuck me again?"
"Not really," Michael told him. "My cock's too sensitive. You can suck me off if you want."
Michael sauntered across and stood in front of the toilet.
"Not like that," Long told him. "Stand a bit further back."
As Michael stepped backwards, Long dropped onto his knees. Within seconds, he was sucking the teenager's prong as though his life depended on it. Michael stroked the lad's wiry hair, revelling in the wonderful sensations the youngster was giving him.
Having cum less than twenty minutes earlier, Michael knew it was going to take far longer than it usually did. He wondered if the boy might tire and leave him frustrated. He needn't have worried. Long never missed a beat.
"I'm going to cum," Michael said eventually.
Long kept on sucking. Moments later, little jets of teen-spunk spurted onto his tongue. Waiting until he was sure he'd taken every drop, he released the older boy's penis. He stood up, opening his mouth to let Whitney see. Closing it again, he swallowed the thirteen-year old's spunk.
"Okay," he said, "we'd better go and get dressed. Mr Brown says we need to get back."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
On Sunday afternoon, Alex drove to the Kings Head. He was feeling very happy with life. The previous afternoon could hardly have gone better. Ten-year old Long, though still wonderfully tight, had taken his man-sized cock with little more than a murmur. Along the way, as a result of being sucked off at the same time, the youngster had enjoyed a quite explosive dry-cum. At the age of ten and well short of reaching puberty, Long was nowhere near his peak. Over the following twelve months, Alex surmised, the lad would become more alluring and even hornier.
Alex's near-confrontation with Richard Needham was a slight concern. He didn't like anyone who wasn't involved to know what he was up to, certainly not a senior colleague. But it was an inconvenience rather than a disaster. He would need to be careful, as he had been in deciding that he would no longer have sex with Pennington in the changing room, but that was about it. After all, Mr Needham was in no position to say anything.
The worst that Mr Needham could do would be to re-allocate the football teams for the following season, taking the current under-12s away from him, and assigning him, almost certainly, to coach the second eleven. That would be a disappointment. The team was starting to play well, and Alex felt certain that they could get even better. In addition, they provided him with some delightful views after training, and would continue to do so for at least twelve months.
But it wouldn't really make that much difference. He was already having sex with two members of the squad, and that would continue. But he had absolutely no intention of seducing any more of them. Gordon had warned him repeatedly of the consequences that invariably befell schoolmasters who went down that road.
The fact of the matter was that he simply didn't need to take that sort of risk. The beauty of his present situation was, that with the round of introductions almost completed, he was having sex with nine different boys, but was responsible for only three of them. It was a remarkable position to be in, he reflected, and provided that he was discreet, he was confident that he'd be able to sustain it.
Reaching the Kings Head, Alex brought the car to a halt. He opened the front passenger door, allowing the smiling Bradshaw to get in.
"Good afternoon, sir!" the lad said brightly
"Good afternoon!" Alex responded, putting the car into gear. "Good to see you!"
"Sir," Bradshaw asked. "Are we having visitors?"
"Not today. Today it'll just be us. I hope that's okay."
"Yes sir," Bradshaw answered, beaming. "I like doing stuff with Arrowsmith and Mr Brown, but sometimes it's nice just to be with you."
Alex understood perfectly. It was an opportunity for them to cement their relationship. He was also reminded of the huge responsibility he had to look after this very special boy.
"This afternoon," he said. "Mr Brown has taken a lad called Jessop, who's the same age as you, to see another friend of ours, Mr Smith. Then next Sunday, Mr Smith will be coming to see us."
"What's Mr Smith like, sir?"
"Let me explain," Alex said gently. "When I was eight, I went away to boarding school so that I could become a chorister at the cathedral that the school was attached to. I loved singing and I still do. Mr Smith was my housemaster, my choirmaster and he taught me to play the piano. It was pretty hard, being away from home for the first time, but Mr Smith made sure I was okay. He really looked after me, and he was such fun to be around, not stuffy at all. Well, after I'd been there for a couple of years, he began to take rather more interest in me. One day, we'd just finished a piano lesson when he started stroking my thigh. Well, I didn't mind at all. I liked it. Even though I was only ten, I knew a bit about what went on. That's the thing about boarding schools. The younger boys hear stuff from the older ones. Anyway, one thing led to another and within a short time, I became one of Mr Smith's little circle of boys. I absolutely loved it, and I've kept in touch with him ever since."
"Wow!" Bradshaw said, grinning from ear to ear. He paused "Sir," he asked carefully, "Did he . . . you know, like you did with me?"
"No, actually he didn't. One of the things about Mr Smith is that he's got quite a large cock, certainly bigger than mine. He loves boys. He doesn't want to hurt them. So after a few weeks, he introduced me to one of the older boys, and he did it."
"So is that why you haven't mentioned Mr Smith before, sir?"
"Absolutely. I didn't want you to meet him until I was sure you were ready. He wouldn't want that either."
"You know next Sunday, sir, will he bring a boy with him?"
"Yes. It'll be a lad called Holdsworth. He's the same age as Arrowsmith, but not quite as tall. He's a really nice lad, and blond like you. I'm sure you'll like him."
"Has he got a big cock?"
"Bigger than Arrowsmith's, so it does look quite impressive."
"Sir, you know you said you'd got a boy in Second Year. Am I going to meet him?"
"Not right at the moment. Unfortunately, he's not very keen on the idea. It'd be difficult to arrange in any case. I can't arrange for you to meet in school, he can't come here on Sundays, and I usually have other things to do on Saturdays. If he changes his mind, we might be able to fix something up during the holidays, but I'm not going to push it."
"Okay sir!" Bradshaw said as Alex parked the car outside the flats.
"Right!" Alex said brightly. "Let's go and get some work done!"
Since their class the previous Tuesday, not only had Bradshaw completed the exercise on solving quadratic equations by using the formula, he had worked his way through three revision sheets, covering all the work they'd done since September. He hadn't made a single mistake. They moved on to explore some more difficult questions, work Alex wouldn't even attempt with his third-year class. Bradshaw, however, was in his element. After a little over half an hour, they were finished.
"You've done superbly again today," Alex said quietly, gently stroking the lad's thigh.
"Sir," Bradshaw asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "D'you mind if I ask you something?"
"No, of course not."
"Sir, are you doing sex-stuff with Pennington?"
For fully two seconds, Alex was shocked into silence. He simply hadn't seen it coming. Would any other members of his under-12 football squad be asking the same question?
"Whatever gave you that idea?" he responded as calmly as he could manage.
"Well sir, after football training, he always takes ages to get into the showers, and by the time he comes out, everyone else is ready to go home. So you're left alone with him, just the two of you. But it's not just that. He turns up to football training, but he never really does much."
"His basic skills have to be okay for him to have made the squad," Alex countered. "He's not very agile, I'll give you that."
"Oh, it's not that sir. He's soft. When he gets the ball, he just gets rid of it. And he never tackles anyone. I don't know why he bothers coming."
Alex was trapped and he knew it. Bradshaw had read the situation perfectly, and he wasn't going to betray the lad's trust by lying to him.
"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid," he admitted.
"I thought so!" Bradshaw said, grinning. "It's okay sir; I don't mind. I mean, he is really nice looking, isn't he?"
"You could say that," Alex conceded. "When Mr Forbes and I were selecting the squad, we got down to the last two places. None of the remaining boys was much good, and it wasn't going to matter. Whoever we picked was never going to be selected to play for the team. So we each picked one more. I can't remember who Mr Forbes picked. I picked Pennington. D'you think any of the other boys has noticed the business with the showers?"
"I wouldn't think so sir. They all seem pretty clueless about sex, just like I was. And Pennington doesn't have any friends in the squad, so nobody bothers much what he does."
"Yes, I was aware of that. If he'd had a friend that he went home with, we couldn't have done it."
"So how did it happen, sir? I've never seen you talk to him on his own or anything."
Alex quickly recounted the events leading up to his first encounter with Pennington.
"I wonder how he noticed you watching us?" Bradshaw queried. "I wouldn't have, not until after . . . you know."
"Apparently, he'd had a little previous experience," Alex explained, "during the summer holidays while staying with one of his cousins. It's not for me to give you the details. Let's just say that he learned enough to be able to spot someone `taking an interest'."
"Can he cum sir? He's got a nice cock."
"Yes, not very much as yet, but he can cum."
"I wish I could!"
"Just be patient," Alex counselled. "It won't be long."
Without waiting to be asked, Bradshaw pulled off his shoes and socks and removed his grey vee-necked sweater. Accepting the obvious invitation, Alex began to sensuously undress the lad. As soon as he was naked from the waist up, the boy got to his feet, allowing his mentor to unfasten his shorts. As they fell around his ankles, he neatly stepped out of them.
Reaching out, Alex caressed the hard bulge at the front of the twelve-year old's white cotton briefs, feeling the youngster's erect penis throbbing with his heartbeat. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, Alex skinned them down the boy's legs, allowing him to kick them off. They climbed onto the bed.
Within seconds, Bradshaw was wrapped in the man's arms. They kissed passionately. It was the first time in three weeks that they'd been alone in the flat. They'd had one-on-one sex at school, but that simply didn't compare. Alex was in heaven. With every other boy, foreplay was all about getting the lad as horny as possible, preparing him to be fucked. He loved nothing more than to hear a youngster actually begging him for it, an unmistakeable acknowledgement of the skills he'd developed.
This was different. Bradshaw was the most special boy he'd ever met, possibly the most special boy he'd ever meet. He admired the lad's energy, enthusiasm and determination. He related directly to the boy's passion for maths and his love of football. Their lives connected in every possible way. And here he was, basking in the lad's unqualified affection. They weren't just having sex; they were making love. Whatever Bradshaw needed from him, Alex was ready to provide it.
They moved into a sixty-nine. Alex could hardly believe how good it felt. Physically, it was no different from doing it with boys like Jessop and Southcott, lads that he liked a great deal, but his emotional connection with Bradshaw took it to a far higher plane. That was fun. This was an absolute privilege. After a couple of minutes, they moved on again, Bradshaw down on all fours, Alex kneeling behind, working his tongue into the youngster's anus. Bradshaw was gasping, moaning with pleasure.
"Oh sir!" he groaned. "I want your cock!"
"And that's exactly what you're going to get," Alex responded. "Mr Smith has a special way he likes to do it. I'd like us to try that, so that you know what to expect. Is that okay?"
"Okay," Alex whispered. "We'll need to get off the bed."
He moved across and sat in his armchair, still positioned where it had been the day before.
"Right," he instructed. "Stand with your back to me, feet apart." Bradshaw complied. "Okay, now slowly sit down."
Bradshaw smiled. He knew exactly what was going to happen. Carefully lowering himself into position, he soon encountered the head of his mentor's cock pressing against his anal ring. Taking a deep breath, he pushed out, allowing it to enter him. After a couple of seconds, he began to slowly push down on it until he was sitting right in Mr Faulkner's lap.
Alex was delighted. Although still beautifully tight, Bradshaw had taken it far more easily than Long had the previous day.
"Good boy!" he cooed. "Now pick your feet up and put them against the side of the bed."
Once again, Bradshaw did as he was asked.
"So how does that feel?" Alex enquired.
"And to make it feel even better," Alex whispered. "While Mr Smith is doing this," – he thrust his cock upwards into Bradshaw's tunnel – "Holdsworth will be kneeling on the bed sucking you off."
"Wow!" Bradshaw exhaled, turning to grin at his mentor.
"Okay! Now we can finish it like this if you want," Alex said, "but what I'd really like to do is to fuck you the way Mr Brown did it last week. Would that be alright?"
Bradshaw paused for a second.
"Yes sir," he said finally.
"I'll be as gentle as I can," Alex assured him, "but it will sting when it goes in."
"That's okay sir."
They moved back to the bed. Alex placed a pillow in the centre. Bradshaw lay down on top of it, legs well apart, just as he had the previous week. To make himself comfortable, he put the other pillow under his head. Moment's later, Mr Faulkner's penis was prodding at his boy-hole. In the next instant, he experienced a searing pain as it forced its way through his anal ring. He gritted his teeth, stifling a gasp.
Gradually, inexplicably, the pain began to ebb away, subsumed by the same wonderful sensations he'd experienced the week before, Mr Faulkner's musky aroma filling his nostrils, his mentor's heart beating powerfully against his spine, the man's rampant prong thrusting repeatedly over his prostate. Only this time the feelings were even more intense, the tingling in his penis as it rubbed against the pillow reaching levels he'd never even dreamed of.
Suddenly everything exploded. He shuddered more violently than he ever had, all his muscles wracked by crazy spasms. As his joystick began to swell and jerk against the pillow, the sensations went right off the scale. He was vaguely aware that Mr Faulkner was cumming too, the man's warm, creamy spunk filling his bottom.
Finally, it was over. He lay pinned to the bed, listening to his mentor breathing heavily. After a few seconds, the man withdrew. With the weight off him, Bradshaw pushed up onto all fours. He was very messy, as he knew he would be, semen trickling down his legs. Kneeling behind, Alex carefully massaged his spunk into the youngster's thighs and buttocks.
"Okay," he said, "you'd better go to the bathroom."
As Bradshaw got off the bed, Alex noticed it, a wet spot, almost an inch in diameter, in the centre of the pillow that the boy had been lying on.
"Look!" he said excitedly. "You've cum! That's your first drop of boy-juice!"
"Wow, sir!" Bradshaw exclaimed, his eyes out on stalks. "Was that why it felt so exciting? My cock's so sensitive, I daren't even touch it."
"Absolutely! That's wonderful. I knew it wouldn't be long. By the time we get to Easter, you'll be squirting properly."
"Will I be able to fuck other boys then?"
"Definitely!" Alex assured him. "I'll fix it up for you, just like I said I would."