THE HUNTING SEASON
By Pink Panther
And so the story continues. I'm not going to disclaim. If you've got this far, you know the score. So read on and enjoy! As you know, I love to hear from my readers, so please send your comments to firstname.lastname@example.org and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
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On Thursday evening, Alex returned to school at quarter to seven. First-year parents' evening was due to start fifteen minutes later with a talk by the headmaster, after which parents would meet with whichever of their son's teachers they wished to speak to.
Alex settled himself into his allocated place in Neil Fleming's classroom, laying out his mark-book and his notes so that he could easily refer to them should he need to. At twenty past seven, parents began to arrive.
His first few meetings were routine. The boys concerned had settled in well and were performing up to the expected standard. They were happy, their parents were happy, and so was he. Such meetings were largely a matter of the parents showing support for their son's education, as well as enabling staff to establish a rapport with parents who had not had a boy at Woodchurch before.
At quarter to eight, Alex was approached by a small, neatly dressed woman. She appeared to be in her early thirties and was still quite attractive.
"Good evening, Mr Faulkner," she said, smiling. "I'm Kate Bradshaw, Russell's mum."
"Delighted to meet you," Alex said warmly, offering his hand.
"Russell's told me so much about you," she went on. "You've made a real impression on him. Russell absolutely loves it here, and that's largely thanks to all the help you've given him. I can't thank you enough."
Alex wondered whether she would still be thanking him if she knew that the impression he'd made extended to the physical and emotional as well as the intellectual, or if she knew just how deep that impression had been, but he let it pass.
"He's a remarkable young man," he said quietly. "I could go through an entire career teaching maths and not meet anyone as good as he is. It's not just his aptitude; it's his eagerness to learn. He's a joy to work with."
"Without his dad there to help him," she said, "he really needed someone to take an interest the way that you have."
"So what was it that your late husband did?" Alex asked.
"He worked for Royal Insurance. He was training to be an actuary."
"Oh, I see! You have to be an excellent mathematician to do that job."
"Well, he graduated with first-class honours. They offered him a place to stay on, but we wanted to get married. It was still a struggle. We just about managed to get enough money together to buy the house. The idea was that when he qualified and was earning good money, we'd move to somewhere nicer. Russell arrived eighteen months later. We were so happy. And then the accident happened."
"I'm so sorry," Alex said gently.
"Life goes on, doesn't it? The insurance paid off the mortgage, but with what I earn at the library we were never going to be able to move. It's not the area I'd have liked Russell to grow up in, but what can we do?"
"I think you've done a remarkable job. Russell's an absolute credit to you. He's mentioned something about the family who live next door."
"Oh, the Wallaces; they're nice people. Their two girls are grown up now. Ken's a plumber. He's always encouraged Russell to work hard at school and that sort of thing."
"I also understand that he's encouraged Russell to stand up for himself."
"Yes, that's right. Not that I think he needed much encouragement. He'd have done that anyway."
"I see. I was surprised a few months ago, when we were playing a football match. Russell got fouled quite badly by one of the opposition. When he got up, he looked like he was ready to fight the boy who'd fouled him. Fortunately, the referee was on hand to deal with the matter."
"Oh, that's Russell," she said, giving Alex a wry grin. "He's as good as gold most of the time, but he won't put up with that sort of thing."
"Well thanks for coming to talk to me," Alex responded. "It's been a pleasure."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
On Friday afternoon, Michael stood outside the Kings Head and waited. A couple of minutes later, Tom Pennington appeared.
"Hi Tom," Michael said. "Are you okay?"
"Sure," Tom responded. "Mr Faulkner said you might like me to . . . , er, help you out."
"Yeah. Tuesday and Friday afternoons if you can make it."
"You mean now?"
"I hadn't thought about doing it today. I'd thought we might start next week. Then you could cycle over."
"I can come over now if you want," Tom suggested.
Michael thought for a moment. "Okay," he said eventually. "We'll have to go on the bus. But I don't want people to see us together, so don't stand with me at the bus stop. When we get on the bus, make sure you sit where you can see me. Get off when I do and walk back in the direction the bus came from. Turn right at the first corner you come to. I'll wait there for you."
Fifteen minutes later, Tom got off the bus. Turning to his left, he followed the older boy, who was already twenty yards away. Rounding the first corner, he found Michael waiting for him.
"Come on!" Michael said, smiling. "We can walk together now."
Upon reaching the house, they each had a cold drink before heading up to Michael's room. After discarding their shoes and socks, they began to undress each other. When they were down to their underpants, Michael paused, indicating for Tom to sit next to him on his bed.
"So what are you interested in?" he asked, "apart from sex."
"Well, I like playing football," Tom told him, "but I'm not very good at it. In the summer, I play cricket and tennis, and now that my hands are big enough, I'll be learning to play bowls."
"Bowls?" Michael queried. "I thought that was an old people's game."
"A lot of older people do play it," Tom admitted. "But as long as your hands are big enough to hold the woods, anyone can play. What about you?"
"I've never played tennis and I hate cricket. The ball's too hard."
"It's okay if you know how to catch it," Tom said, shrugging.
"Do you read?" Michael asked. "Stories and that. I love reading."
"Not really, Tom said. "I read the books we're given in English. That's about it."
"So what's your best subject?"
"Art. I'm hoping to go to art college when I'm older."
Michael's heart sank. It seemed he and Tom had not a single shared interest. They could still enjoy having sex, but that was all it would ever be. He stretched out a hand, running his fingers over the hard bulge in the twelve-year old's underpants. Moments later, they were writhing around on the bed, as naked as jaybirds, their bodies intertwined. They kissed sensuously.
After a few minutes, they moved into a sixty-nine. Michael slipped his hand between Tom's legs, his index finger quickly locating the younger boy's rosebud. Tom winced, pulling away.
"Are you okay?" Michael asked.
"Yeah. Wednesday after football training, instead of going to Mr Faulkner's flat, we went to the woods near where I live."
"The woods?" Michael queried.
"Yeah! It was a super day and I love being outdoors with my shorts and pants down. Maybe we could go there sometime."
"Yeah, maybe. If it's really warm."
"Anyway, he fucked me much harder than he usually does. He was like a wild animal! It was very exciting. I mean, I spunked all over the bushes, but afterwards my bum was really sore. It still is a bit. He said he got carried away."
"Oh! I guess you won't want me to fuck you today then."
"I do actually, but you'll need to be really careful putting it in. Have you ever done it with Mr Brown when you have to kneel astride his chest?"
"Well, could we do it like that? Then I'll be able to take it really slow."
"Sure, but I want to lick you out first."
"Yeah, I think that'll help too."
Tom got onto all fours. Within seconds, the teenager's tongue was lapping at his anus. It felt wonderful, the soreness ebbing away. The tongue pushed inside.
"Oh, yeah!" he gasped, his nerve-endings tingling like crazy.
"Is it okay if I put my finger in?" Michael asked. "I'll use plenty of lube and go really slow."
The teenager was as good as his word, the lad's slicked-up digit gently probing Tom's ravaged boy-hole before slowly sliding right in. It began to finger-fuck him.
"Oh yeah!" Tom breathed. "That feels super! I want your cock now!"
Michael rolled onto his back. Kneeling astride the older boy's chest, Tom carefully lowered himself onto the lad's hard prong, grimacing as it penetrated him. After a short pause, he slowly sank down until he'd taken its full length.
"Yeah!" he whispered. "This is what I want! You play with mine, okay?"
Michael smiled and nodded. He lay back, fondling the youngster's penis as the lad rode his cock. The sensations were exquisite, and all he had to do was lie there and enjoy it. Suddenly, Tom began to gasp.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Ohhh!"
With his bum tightening sharply around Michael's prick, his penis sprang into life, jets of watery boy-cum spraying the teenager's body, a couple of drops landing on his face. Tom's anal contractions took Michael over the edge. Instinctively, he pressed down on the younger boy's thighs, his teen spunk spurting powerfully into the twelve-year old's bottom.
"Sorry!" Tom said, his eyes sparkling. "I've squirted all over you."
"No, that was super!" Michael assured him. "I'm impressed! I didn't realise you could cum as much as that."
Tom lifted himself clear, climbed off the bed and began to pull his clothes on.
"Aren't you going to the toilet?" Michael queried.
"No, you've cum just the right amount," Tom told him. "I'm going to keep it inside me."
Swinging his feet onto the floor, Michael headed to the bathroom. Tom might not be great company, he reflected, but he was very sexy!
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The Woodchurch under-12 team's final match resulted in another comfortable victory. Playing on their own pitch, they won by four goals to one. As they headed back into the changing room, the boys were very excited.
"Okay lads," Alex said, calling them to order. "Just sit down for a moment."
As the boys sat down, they fell silent, ready to hang onto their coach's every word.
"Well done again today," Alex began. "It was the best possible way to finish the season. I'm sure you all remember how hard it was to begin with. Many of the things that I was asking you to do were new, and it took a while for you to get used to them. But you stuck at it, and the way that you have improved, both as a team and as individuals, has been outstanding.
I now need to make an announcement. In September, I will be taking on a new teaching commitment in addition to the work I'm already doing. Unfortunately, this means that I won't be coaching you next season. I will still be involved, but I'll be taking the second eleven. Mr Forbes will be looking after you. I'm certainly going to miss working with you, but I'm afraid it's not going to be possible."
The disappointment around the room was palpable. Team captain Wade put his hand up.
"Yes?" Alex asked.
"Sir, why is taking the second eleven easier?"
"Because they only play eighteen matches, eight of which are on Wednesday afternoons, and they don't train after school."
He could have added that nobody bothered about the second eleven's results, but decided it would not be appropriate.
"What I can also tell you is that Mr Forbes and I have already had a chat," he continued. "He's very keen to build on what we've done this year, so he won't be making any big changes. You'll start off playing the same system we've been using, and he'll see how things develop from there. So enjoy the next few months, and when the new football season starts, I hope you'll give Mr Forbes one hundred per cent, just as you have with me. Okay, strip off and into the showers!"
For once, Alex didn't admire his players' young bodies as they emerged from the showers. Somehow, it didn't feel right. Once the boys were dressed, several of them came up to him, thanking him for coaching them and saying how much they were going to miss him. It was a difficult moment for him, knowing that he would miss them too.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
At half past one that afternoon, Michael was back outside the Kings Head. Right on cue, his form master's car appeared. As it drew up to the kerb, he opened the front passenger door. There was a carrier bag on the seat. Picking it up, he got into the car, and closed the door.
"What's in the bag, sir?" he asked, placing it between his feet.
"I could say `layoes for meddlers and crutches for lame ducks'," Alex quipped, "but you might not believe me."
"Sorry sir, I don't understand."
"Well, why don't you have a look?"
Michael opened the bag and looked inside. "Football shorts!" he announced, grinning.
"Yes, I've brought them for Southcott. He can cum properly now, so I thought we could try something we haven't done before. Actually, Bradshaw and I saw him last Sunday. Holdsworth had a cold and couldn't travel, so Mr Smith brought Southcott instead. D'you remember him telling us about having a dry-cum while he was getting caned?"
"Well, apparently, it happened again. And now he's stopped doing anything that he might get caned for because he's terrified that he'll cum in his underpants, mainly, I think, because if the other boys found out, they'd think he was `weird'."
"Well, it is a bit, isn't it sir?"
"Actually, getting a hard-on while being caned or spanked is not that unusual. To actually cum is fairly rare, but it's not unknown; I don't think there's anything weird about it."
"So you're going to fuck him with these football shorts on?"
"That's the idea. I'll spank him first. Then I'll do the deed, just as I do with you and Pennington."
"You've done that with Pennington too?"
"Yes, we've done that a few times. He likes it as much as you do. Did he show up yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes sir. We went back to mine. Before we got down to it, I asked him what his he liked doing, you know, apart from sex. He mentioned football, of course. Then he said that in the summer he plays cricket and tennis, and this year he was going to learn to play bowls. That was a real surprise. I've never heard of anyone our age doing that. Anyway, I asked him if he liked reading. He said he doesn't, so I asked him what his best subject is. He said it was art, which is one of my worst. I mean, I love having sex with him, but what are we going to talk about?"
"Not a great deal, by the sound of things," Alex said, smiling. "Clearly not what you would have wanted, but half a loaf is better than no bread. You'll just have to make the best of it."
"Pennington told me about you going to the woods. He said you got carried away. His bum was still sore."
"Going to the woods was his idea, of course, but I suppose I did get a little over-excited. Having sex outdoors made me feel like I was seventeen and back at school."
"Yeah, he asked me if I'd like to do that. I said I'd think about it, but it would have to be really warm. So when are you seeing him again?"
"I'll see him on Wednesday, after we finish."
"Will you go back there?"
"I don't know. We might if he wants to. I guess it'll depend on the weather."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Around an hour later, Alex led Southcott into the guest bedroom of Mr Smith's house, taking the carrier bag with him.
"Did you enjoy having Whitney's cock up your bottom?" he asked.
"Yes sir. He can fuck really hard now, can't he? Sir, what's in the bag?"
"Just be patient," Alex told him. "You'll find out soon enough."
Sitting on the side of the bed, Alex took the twelve-year old's penis into his mouth, sucking it right in, his tongue flicking out to slash at the youngster's balls. After a minute or so, he pulled away.
"Mmmmm!" he purred, licking his lips. "You and Bradshaw are right at the stage I like best, when you're just starting to produce some spunk. Okay, your turn to do me now."
Southcott knelt on the floor. Holding the base of Mr White's cock between thumb and forefinger, he guided it into his mouth and began to suck.
"Good boy!" Alex cooed, stroking the boy's smooth dark hair. In truth, sucking cock was not Southcott's strongest suit, but he still did a delightful job.
"Okay," Alex instructed. "Stand up, turn around and bend over. Rest your hands on the chair."
With the lad in position, it was Alex's turn to kneel on the floor. Running his tongue along the youngster's crack, he homed in on the lad's starfish. He lapped at it for several seconds until it twitched invitingly. He pushed inside, working his tongue as far in as it would go. Finally, he allowed it to slide out.
"Oh yes!" he growled with undisguised lust. "Your bottom's full of Whitney's spunk!"
"Okay! Time for you to find out what's in the bag."
Standing up, Southcott picked up the bag off the floor, reached inside and pulled out the contents.
"It's a pair of shorts, sir."
"Put them on."
The lad complied immediately. Alex smiled. The shorts fit him beautifully, the youngster's prick making a prominent bulge at the front. He wondered if the lad knew what he intended to do.
"Okay, now back where you were."
Southcott obediently bent over the chair.
"You're a naughty boy, aren't you Southcott?" Alex demanded.
"And what happens to naughty boys?"
"They get spanked, sir."
"Yes, they do, don't they?" Alex barked, delivering a powerful smack to the lad's cotton-covered buttocks.
"Oh shit!" Southcott gasped."
"Not just naughty," Alex rasped, delivering a second blow. "You've got a dirty mouth too!"
Alex gave the lad a third smack on the bottom, then a fourth, followed by two smacks across the tops of the boy's exposed thighs.
"Have you learned your lesson yet?" Alex demanded, swiftly coating his penis with K-Y.
"Oh, yes sir!"
"We'll see about that!" Alex growled, lowering the shorts an inch or two to give him more room.
Southcott was taken by surprise. He knew Mr White was going to fuck him; it was what he always did, but he'd expected the man to pull the shorts right down. So what was he doing? He soon had his answer, the teacher's cock advancing up the leg of his shorts and prodding at his boy-hole. A moment later it was inside him.
"Oh sir!" he gasped, beads of perspiration breaking out across his forehead.
"And after having their bottoms smacked," Alex went on, pulling the lad right onto him. "They get royally fucked!"
Alex didn't hold back, thrusting in hard before pulling well back, the youngster's squeaks and whimpers spurring him on. Southcott hardly knew where he was, the man's penis driving repeatedly over his sex-button, his own prick rubbing against the coarse cotton shorts.
"Oh sir!" he wailed. "I'm going to cum!"
"Do it!" Alex ordered. "Show me just what a naughty boy you are!"
"Ohhh! Ohhh!" Southcott responded, bucking violently, jets of boy-juice soaking the front of his shorts.
"Oh yes!" Alex crowed, fucking the lad even harder. "Now I'm going to give you what you need!"
Two more thrusts and he was there. "Ohhh!" he rasped. "Now take it! Take it all!"
In the next instant, his cock reared up, sending rope after rope of creamy spunk flooding into the youngster's bottom. After taking a few seconds to recover his composure, he gently pulled out, watching admiringly as a large stain spread across the back of the boy's shorts.
"Okay," he said quietly. "You can take them off now."
As soon as Southcott was naked, Alex put an arm around the lad's shoulder, back to being himself again now that their role-play was over.
"Thanks," he said warmly. "You were incredible!"
"Sir," Southcott answered, grinning up at him. "That was the best! It was wild!"
"Yes, it was," Alex agreed, smiling.
"Sir, do you fuck your boys like that?"
"I do, once they can cum," Alex confided. "And I'll let you into a secret. Whitney loves it as much as you do!"
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex's weekend was completed by another delightful one-to-one with Bradshaw. Their relationship had become so close and so wide-ranging, he found these sessions far more satisfying than they would have been with another boy.
Once again, on the Monday he returned to school in excellent spirits. Although there were problems that he would have face in the future, at that moment things were very much as he wanted them to be. He was therefore a little surprised at morning break, when Whitney arrived in his classroom.
"I wasn't expecting to see you," he said, regarding the boy quizzically.
"I've got a problem this weekend," Michael told him. "On Sunday, my uncle's got to go to a party at his boss's house. He says he needs to be there. He wants to see me on Saturday instead."
"On Easter Sunday?" Alex queried.
"Well, I'll have to alter my plans a bit, but we'll manage. We don't want your uncle asking silly questions again."
"No sir. I could see you on Sunday instead."
"Actually, I'll be seeing Bradshaw on Sunday morning. Then I'll be driving to my parents' place for lunch. I'm staying there a few days to recharge the batteries. I'll be back on the Wednesday."
"Sir, if I came over on Sunday morning, would I be able to meet Bradshaw?"
"I thought you didn't want to. Why the change of mind?"
"At half term, Holdsworth told me off. He said that Bradshaw was really nice and I was being stupid."
"Well not exactly like that, but you know what I mean."
"Well good for him."
"And last weekend, I asked Southcott. He told me the same thing."
"Well, I'll have to ask Bradshaw first. And you'll need to get to mine quite early. It's over an hour's drive to my parents' place and I won't want to be rushing. So how does quarter past ten sound?"
"That'll be fine, sir."
"Would you like to come to the flat sometime on Thursday?"
"Pennington's coming to mine on Thursday morning. We can't do it on Friday because Mum and Dad will be at home."
"Friday's no good for me either," Alex said. "We're singing at the parish church in the afternoon, so I'll be busy all day."
"I could come to yours on Thursday afternoon, sir."
"Excellent! Half past two?"
"Yes sir. I'll be there!"
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
At half past two on Wednesday afternoon, the bell sounded for the end of the spring term. Having dismissed his form, Alex gathered his things and headed out to the car park. For all that he enjoyed teaching, it was hard work and he was looking forward to the break.
He drove to the Kings Head. As arranged, Pennington was waiting for him. He pulled up to the kerb, allowing him to get in. As soon as the lad was safely onboard, he drove away.
"Hi sir!" Pennington said brightly. "Can we go to the woods again?"
Alex considered for a moment. Although not as warm as it had been the week before, it was pleasant enough.
"Are you sure you want to?" he asked, playing for time. "I thought you might be a bit wary after what happened last week."
"But it's so exciting doing it out there, sir."
"Fair enough. I'll make sure I keep it under control this time."
"I should be okay anyway, sir. Yesterday, I went to Whitney's house."
"Oh, I see," Alex said, understanding the implication. "He tells me you play cricket."
"Batsman or bowler?"
"Batsman and spin-bowler, sir."
"Not bad, much better than I am at football."
"Where d'you field?"
"Out in the deep usually, because I've got a good arm and a safe pair of hands."
"So you're okay taking the ball coming out of the sky?"
"I was better at taking the sharp catches close to the wicket."
"I'm not so good there, sir. I'm not much good at diving around."
"Fair enough! Do you know what you'll be doing on Saturday afternoon?"
"Nothing, as far as I know."
"Would you be able to come to the flat? Mr Brown's bringing one of his boys over. I was expecting Whitney to be with me, but he'll be otherwise engaged."
"Haven't the boys at Mr Brown's school gone home then?"
"The choristers have to stay in school until the Sunday morning to sing at the Easter services."
"Oh, right! Who's the boy? It's not Arrowsmith, is it sir?"
"It'll be a boy called Long. Nice lad, you'll like him."
"Okay then sir. What time?"
"Quarter past two, if you can make it."
"Yes sir! Thanks!"
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
On Friday morning, the choral society gathered at the parish church for a final rehearsal before the performance that afternoon. It would be their only opportunity to rehearse accompanied by the organ, and with the two soloists.
They had engaged two up-an-coming singers to perform the solo parts, a tenor and a bass. Alex listened carefully to the young man singing the bass part. He was good, Alex acknowledged, and handled the piece very competently. But he was not outstanding. Though not dismissive, Alex was confident that if he had continued his musical training, he could have sung the part just as well.
Well before three o'clock, the church was packed. By the time the choir took their places, there was not a seat to be had. The performance was a triumph. The acoustics of the church suited the music perfectly, and they sang it better than they had ever managed in their rehearsal room.
Afterwards, they headed to the Assembly Rooms for a reception. Courteous and attentive, Alex spent the time with Joanne, as he always did on such occasions. It seemed perfectly natural.
As they'd been together for a year, he'd been concerned that other members of the choir might begin asking them if they were going to get engaged, or even married, but to his relief, no such questions came up.
Their relationship was not just a convenient arrangement, he reminded himself. He and Joanne had a great deal in common and enjoyed each other's company. He, of course, did not wish to take matters any further, and as luck would have it, it seemed that she didn't either.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The following afternoon, Pennington arrived at the flat at ten past two. Alex noticed the bright blue shorts the lad was wearing. They were somewhat shorter than the grey ones he wore for school and underlined how sexy he was. Going through to the living room, they sat down on the sofa.
"When will they be here, sir?" Pennington asked.
"It's supposed to be half past," Alex said, running his fingers along the youngster's thigh, "but they'll be here before that. Mr Brown's always early."
"This boy Long, what's he like?"
"Well, he's a little younger than you," Alex began.
"So how old is he, sir?" Pennington asked anxiously.
"If I remember correctly, he'll be eleven in May."
Pennington's face fell. "He won't be able to do much then, will he sir?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised. That's one of the benefits of a boarding school education."
"He won't be able to fuck me though."
"No, but Mr Brown will take care of that. I seem to remember that you enjoyed that tremendously the last time it happened."
"Yes sir. I just thought . . ."
"The only one of Mr Brown's little gang that could have done that is Arrowsmith, and he's already back at home. And I didn't think you liked him."
"Erm, well, not really. He's okay, I suppose."
"Look, just relax and enjoy yourself!" Alex urged. "It'll be better than you think. Just one thing though. Being only ten, Long still calls his cock his weewee. Mr Brown would appreciate it if you did not correct him."
"Okay sir!" Pennington said, grinning.
Just after twenty past, the doorbell rang. Leaving Pennington in the lounge, Alex went to answer it. He returned a few seconds later, accompanied by Mr Brown and a boy. Pennington did a double-take, almost forgetting to stand up. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this lad wasn't it, almost as tall as Bradshaw, but very slight.
He and Bradshaw were slim, the twelve-year old considered. Long was downright skinny. He was nice looking though, with wiry fair hair, sparkling blue eyes and an engaging smile.
"Hi!" the scrawny lad said, extending a hand. "I'm Long. You must be Pennington."
"Hi!" Pennington responded. "Nice to meet you."
After ten minutes spent drinking cups of tea and chatting about this and that, they made their way to the bedroom. Having removed their shoes and socks, Long stood in front of Mr White, while Pennington positioned himself in front of Mr Brown.
Alex began by helping Long take off his tie, his grey V-necked pullover and his shirt, leaving the boy naked from the waist up. Sitting on the bed, he undid the youngster's shorts. With the lad being so slight, they immediately fell to the floor.
As Long stepped out of them, Alex ran his hand up the youngster's thigh and over the hard bulge at the front of his underpants.
"Very nice!" he purred. "It seems like you're ready for this!"
Long smiled but didn't answer. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, Alex skinned the ten-year old's briefs down his long slim legs, exposing the lad's hard three-inch penis. After a moment to take in the sight, Alex went down on it, sucking it hungrily, his hand between the boy's legs, his fingers stroking the youngster's perineum. After a couple of minutes, he pulled away.
"Time you found out what I've got for you!" he said, smiling.
"Oh, I know what you've got, sir," Long responded, grinning mischievously.
Kneeling down, he undid his host's fly-buttons, reaching inside to liberate the man's cock. After swiping his tongue over the head, he took it into his mouth, gradually sucking his way down. Alex was delighted. For a slightly built ten-year old, Long was quite a performer.
Alex glanced across the room, where Pennington, also naked and kneeling on the floor, was running his tongue all over Mr Brown's prick.
"Okay, Mr Brown," he suggested. "I think it's time these two boys got to know each other."
Releasing his host's penis, Long immediately jumped onto the bed. Pennington followed, feeling somewhat apprehensive. For the first time, he would be expected to play the older boy's role. He wasn't at all sure that he'd be able to do it, or even that he wanted to. Getting onto the bed, he lay down next to the ten-year old, wondering what to do next.
"Come on!" Long urged, snuggling right up. "Do you kiss?"
He didn't wait for an answer, locking his lips onto those of the older boy. Pennington responded instinctively, running his tongue over Long's perfect teeth. After barely a minute, the younger lad pulled away.
"Mmmm!" he murmured, licking his lips. "That was nice! Don't be so nervous; I won't bite!"
Snaking around, Long took hold of the twelve year old's prong, examining it carefully.
"I love your weewee," he announced. "You can cum, can't you?"
Pennington nodded. After licking the small, shiny head, Long took the hard object into his mouth, sucking it right in. Pennington was astonished, surprised not only that a boy as young as Long could do such sexy things, but that he did them as though they were second nature. Taking hold of the youngster's legs, he moved him further round so that the lad's penis was close to his face.
"Yours is nice too," he said, fondling it.
"It's the biggest in my year," Long told him. "I'm not the biggest, but my weewee is."
They moved effortlessly into a sixty-nine. For Pennington, this was familiar territory. Even though Long's prick was the smallest he'd encountered, he sucked it eagerly, revelling in the wonderful sensations the ten-year old was giving him. He'd have been happy to keep doing it, at least until he came, but Long suddenly pulled away.
"D'you want to lick my boy-hole?" he demanded.
Feeling nervous again, Pennington looked across at his teacher, hoping the man would bail him out.
"Go on," Alex urged. "You've had yours licked often enough."
As Long got onto all fours, Pennington moved in behind, knowing he had no other choice. Very gingerly, he licked around the ten-year old's rosebud. Finding that it was actually quite enjoyable, he moved his tongue right onto the very centre, lapping at it insistently.
"Oh yes!" Long breathed. "Keep doing that!"
Though not pushing inside, Pennington continued his ministrations.
"Oh yes!" the ten-year old panted. "I want to feel your weewee going up my bum!"
"I've never done that," Pennington answered.
"It doesn't matter," Long told him. "Just lie on your back."
As the older lad got into position, Long took the tube of K-Y from the bedside cabinet, carefully smearing the greasy jelly over the twelve-year old's appendage. With the job completed, he knelt astride the older boy's chest. Reaching back to hold the lad's penis, he carefully sat down, impaling himself on it. Pennington's eyes glazed over. Never in his wildest imaginings had he envisaged himself doing this. Taking Pennington's right hand, Long placed it on his cock.
"You play with mine, okay?" he instructed, breaking the older lad's reverie.
With that, he began to pump his hips, up, down, up, down. Lying on the bed, absently fondling the ten-year old's penis, Pennington could hardly believe what was happening, the youngster's velvety tunnel far tighter than any sucking mouth, the sensations more intense than any he'd ever experienced.
Alex sat with his eyes glued to the action. He found the spectacle of this slightly-built ten-year old energetically riding the older boy's cock incredibly erotic, his rampant prong throbbing in response. Almost without warning, Long began to shudder.
"Oh! Oh! Ohhhh!" he squealed, his anal ring spasming around the twelve-year old's penis. A moment later, the lad's three-inch prick swelled and pulsed between Pennington's fingers, while at the same time, the twelve-year old pumped jets of boy-cum into his bottom.
It ended as abruptly as it had begun. For some time, they remained as they were, Pennington looking totally out of it, Long smiling beatifically.
"That was super!" Long finally declared. "You enjoyed it, didn't you? You must have. You squirted in my boy-hole."
Pennington didn't respond, still trying to come to terms with what they'd just done. A few seconds later, Long lifted himself clear. Stepping off the bed, he swaggered across to Mr White, parking himself on the man's lap.
"Well," Alex said. "That was remarkable. I didn't expect you to take charge the way you did."
"It wasn't hard, sir," Long replied nonchalantly. "I've done that with Mr Brown loads of times."
Alex thought he must be dreaming. Given another year, the lad would be the hottest piece of property imaginable.
"So has Pennington really not had his weewee in another boy's hole before?" Long queried.
"Not as far as I know," Alex responded. "He's been with myself and Whitney, Mr Brown and Arrowsmith, and Holdsworth, whom I think you've met. So he's always been on the receiving end."
"Oh, I see," Long said thoughtfully. "So is he going to get spit-roasted now?"
Alex had to suppress his amusement. For a boy who still called a penis a weewee to use an expression like `spit-roasted' seemed incongruous in the extreme. He guessed it had to be what he'd heard the other boys call it.
"Yes, definitely," he replied.
"Super!" Long enthused. "I love having my weewee sucked while someone else is sticking it up my bum."
"Well, just be patient for a few minutes," Alex advised, "and that's exactly what you'll get."
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
As Long went to sit with their host, Martin joined Pennington on the bed.
"Well," he asked. "How was your first fuck?"
"I don't know, sir," the lad replied. "I mean, it was really exciting. I'm sure I spunked lots more than I usually do, but I think I'd still rather take it."
"That's good! In a few minutes' time, your wish will be fulfilled."
"So how are we doing it, sir?"
"Think about what we did the last time you and I were here with Whitney. What did we do then?"
"Oh, so you mean . . . ?"
"Precisely! Long's going to be where you were . . ."
"And I'll suck him off while you give it me up the bum!"
"You're looking forward to it, aren't you?"
"Okay! Get on all fours and let's make sure you're properly ready."
With the lad in position, Martin set to work on the twelve-year old's starfish, first with his tongue, then with his index finger, which slid in smoothly.
"So when did you last take it?" he demanded.
"Thursday morning, sir. I went over to Whitney's house."
"And I've no doubt he gave you a damn good seeing to."
"Yes sir. He had me lying on my tummy. I spunked while he was doing me."
"You sexy boy! It's a shame you've only just cum. I'd love to make you do that!"
Martin looked up to see Long steadily impaling himself on Mr White's cock.
"Well," he whispered. "It looks like they're almost ready for us. Turn round so you're facing them."
Pennington quickly shuffled around until he was directly in front of ten-year old Long. He steadied himself, knees apart, the palms of his hands flat on the bed, his eyes widening as he observed the youngster's anus stretched around Mr White's cock.
"Okay," Martin instructed, his penis nuzzling the twelve-year old's boy-hole. "Keep nice and still while I give you what you want."
Taking a deep breath, he impaled the lad with a single thrust.
"Okay" he ordered. "Now suck him!"
As Pennington lowered his shoulders, Long held the twelve-year old's head, drawing the older lad onto his prick.
"That's it!" Alex said triumphantly. "Now you boys keep still. Let us do the work!"
Immediately, he began driving his cock upwards into Long's tight little bottom. Pennington hardly knew where he was, the ten-year old's penis being forced deep into his mouth while Mr Brown ruthlessly fucked his boy-tunnel, the man's hard prong thrusting repeatedly over his prostate.
"Oh, Pennington!" Martin panted. "You can't get enough of this, can you?"
`He doesn't know how true that is,' Alex reflected, fucking the ten-year old even harder. `They're both nice kids, but Pennington's a slut and Long very soon will be.'
It was never going to last long, the intensity building by the second.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Long squealed, his fingers clawing at Pennington's scalp. In the next instant, his prick came to life in the twelve-year old's mouth, his rosebud spasming around Mr White's cock.
"Oh, you sexy little boy!" Alex groaned. "Now I'm going to fill your bottom!"
"Oh yes, Pennington!" Martin gasped. "And you're going to get your boy-hole full of spunk!"
Alex's orgasm was the longest and most violent he could remember. As he gently lifted the scrawny ten-year old off his penis, his balls felt as though they'd been squeezed dry. In terms of sheer sexual excitement, this foursome surpassed any other he'd been a part of. As he stood up, Long was leaking prodigiously.
"Pennington,"Alex said casually. "Why don't you try cleaning him up?"
The boy hesitated, eyeing him nervously.
"Come on!" Alex urged. "At least give it a try. It won't hurt you. Whitney's cleaned you up several times, and he hasn't suffered any ill-effects, has he?"
"Can I stop if it tastes bad?"
"Okay, then," Pennington agreed.
"Right, bend over the chair," Alex said, turning to Long.
With Long positioned over his host's office chair, Pennington knelt down behind. Spunk had trickled down the ten-year old's legs, almost reaching the youngster's left knee. Pennington swiped his tongue over it. It didn't taste bad at all, he decided.
Moving across to Long's right leg, he licked some spunk from there too. It was okay. In fact, it was more than okay; he liked it. Moving from one leg to the other, he gradually worked his way up until he'd reached almost to the lad's anal ring.
A voice in his head told him he should stop there, but he didn't want to. And he knew Whitney didn't stop there. Throwing caution to the wind, he plunged in, savouring the taste of his football coach's spunk as it trickled from the youngster's starfish.
"Oh yes!" Long squeaked. "Ohhh!"
Finally, Pennington pulled away, licking his lips.
"Well done!" Alex congratulated, ruffling the twelve-year old's hair. "You did really well! Okay, you'd better take him to the bathroom."
"Shall I give him a bath, sir?" Pennington asked.
"Do you know where everything is?"
"Okay then, if he wants one."
As the boys left the room, Alex sat down on his office chair.
"Pennington did remarkably well," Martin commented, "considering it was all new to him."
"Very much so," Alex agreed. "Sometimes he needs to be coaxed into doing things he hasn't tried before, but it's invariably worth the effort."
"I hear Gordon's had a word with you."
"Yes. He's given me a twelve-month extension. If I'm not teaching at a prep school by September next year, I'll be excluded from his little circle."
"So I understand."
"What do you think about that?"
"It's fair enough, I suppose. He doesn't like the idea of there being older boys in the school who know what you get up to. He says it's too much of a risk."
"So are you coming over next Saturday?" Alex asked, changing the subject.
"I assume Whitney will be available?"
"As far as I know. It'll be him and Pennington again."
"Splendid! We can have a re-run of what we did the last time the four of us were together. I'll look forward to it!"
Alex's suspicions were duly confirmed. For reasons, he didn't understand, Martin was more attracted to Whitney than to the younger and cuter Pennington. But he wasn't going to say anything. He'd simply wait to see how things developed.
"Will it be okay if I bring Noel over on Wednesday evening?" Martin asked. "I'm taking him to London on Thursday so he can have a few days to settle in before starting work on the Monday. He said he'd like to see you before he goes. He's hoping you'll fuck him one last time as a sort of leaving present."
"Oh, during the school holiday I can manage that easily," Alex assured him.
Half an hour later, Martin and his young charge were on their way back to school.
"Did you and Long have a nice time in the bathroom?" Alex enquired, smiling at Pennington.
"Yes, sir. I washed him all over. Then he sucked me off."
"Excellent!" Alex congratulated.
On the basis of this latest performance, the lad was developing exactly as he'd hoped.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The following morning, Bradshaw arrived at twenty to ten.
"Sir, come and see my bike!" the boy said excitedly.
They went downstairs, where the bike was locked up, resting against the wall of the walk-in cupboard that housed the communal refuse bin. It looked to be in excellent condition, just as Bradshaw had said, with eye-catching orange paintwork, five-speed sprocket gears with a Benelux changer, dropped handlebars and narrow rims.
"What size are the wheels?" Alex enquired.
"Twenty-seven by one and a quarter," Bradshaw said proudly.
"Twenty-seven inches?" Alex queried. "Isn't that a bit big for you?"
"It's fine, sir. I can handle it okay, and I'll soon grow into it."
"Just be very careful," Alex admonished. "You're precious. I don't want to see you involved in an accident."
They headed back up to the flat for what would be their last tutorial before Alex went to stay with his parents. They spent almost half an hour applying the trigonometry they'd been working on to solve problems.
"Okay," Alex said finally. "That's it for today. I'll be back on Wednesday morning. If you come over for about half past eleven, I'll have time to get myself organised before you arrive."
"I'll be here, sir. Will it just be the two of us?"
"So when's Whitney going to be here?"
"He should be here anytime. I told him quarter past ten."
"So what are we going to do?"
"Well, first of all, you're going to have a chat."
"Will we be able to . . .?"
"That's up to you and Whitney to decide."
"But if we want to?"
"Will you be there with us?"
"I think you'll find it easier if I'm not listening to every word you say."
Just at that moment, the doorbell rang.
"Right on time!" Alex said smiling. "You go and sit in the lounge while I answer the door."
As soon as Bradshaw sat down on the sofa, the lounge door opened and a tall fair-haired boy walked in. Bradshaw immediately stood up again.
"Hi!" he said warmly, offering his hand. "I'm Bradshaw."
"I'm Whitney," Michael answered, accepting the handshake.
As Alex entered the room, the two boys sat on the sofa.
"I've seen you at school," Bradshaw said, smiling. "Before Christmas, you used to wear shorts."
"They made you look very sexy!"
"That's what Mr Faulkner thought too, but it was getting embarrassing. I'm the tallest in our year. All the other tall kids had already started wearing long trousers. I stuck out like a sore thumb."
"Oh, I see." Bradshaw said thoughtfully. "When I've seen you at school, you've been with a kid with very dark hair, looks like he's Spanish or something."
"That's Newton," Michael said a little awkwardly. "He's not Spanish. He is very dark though. He has a tan all through the year."
"Did I say something wrong?" Bradshaw asked, sensing the tension that had suddenly pervaded the room.
"No," Michael assured him. "It's just that Newton and I used to be . . . well, more than friends."
"I've done it again!" Bradshaw said, shaking his head. "Opened my mouth and put my foot in it. I don't mean to. It just happens!"
"It's okay," Alex said soothingly. "You weren't to know."
Michael was bemused. Bradshaw was nothing like he'd expected. For a start, he wasn't very big, only around the same height as Southcott. With his blue eyes and blond hair, he was certainly nice-looking, but nothing exceptional. And he wasn't the least bit posh. There was actually a slightly rough edge to the way he spoke. Most of all, the lad hadn't mentioned himself once.
"I've heard that you're a maths genius," he said, looking Bradshaw straight in the eye.
"Don't say that, please," Bradshaw answered, screwing his face up. "I hate it. Sure, I love maths and I am pretty good at it. Mr Faulkner thinks I could be very good, but if it wasn't for all the help he's given me, I'd be no better than anyone else."
"Oh, right," Michael said, completely disarmed.
The light was starting to dawn. Holdsworth, Southcott and Mr Faulkner all liked Bradshaw precisely because he wasn't full of himself. If you didn't know otherwise, you'd have thought he was just like any other kid. But there was something different about him, Michael reflected. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was.
"So d'you want to go into the bedroom?" Bradshaw asked, grinning.
"Sure, if that's okay."
"Yeah, come on then!"
"Go on, you know where it is," Alex told them.
"Aren't you going to join us, sir?" Michael asked.
"No; you two go and get to know each other. I'll catch up with Bradshaw later."
Having made their way to the bedroom, somewhat warily, they sat down on the bed.
"I owe you an apology," Michael said nervously. "For most of last year, I was the only boy at Woodchurch that Mr Faulkner was having sex with. I was his number one boy. Then you came along and suddenly I wasn't anymore. When I heard how good you were at maths and football, I got the wrong idea completely. I thought you'd be, you know, really big-headed. That's why I didn't want to meet you. I'm sorry."
"That's okay," Bradshaw said, grinning. "I'm glad you've decided you were wrong. I can't stand big-heads either."
"Thanks," Michael responded.
"So are we going to . . .?"
After discarding their shoes and socks, the boys began to undress each other. Michael noticed immediately: Bradshaw wasn't rough, but his touch was firm and purposeful, a complete contrast to the gentle, easy-going Pennington. Almost before he knew what was happening, the younger lad was tugging down his underpants.
"Oh, wow!" Bradshaw gasped, running his fingers along the teenager's penis. "Your cock's amazing! It's nearly as long as Mr Faulkner's!"
"Not as thick though."
"It's still amazing. You're thirteen, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but my birthday's at the beginning of September. I'm not just the tallest in our year, I'm the oldest too. And I've always been big for my age. I could cum before I started at Woodchurch. I don't think any of the other boys could. Maybe Downing, I'm not sure."
"Downing, plays in goal for the under-13s?"
"Right! I can sort of cum, but it doesn't squirt right out yet."
"Let's see it then!"
Michael quickly removed the twelve-year old's briefs, being as firm with the younger lad as Bradshaw had been with him. He breathed in sharply. Naked, Bradshaw really was cute, his bottom almost as perfect as Van Kerkstraat's.
"Nice!" he breathed, fondling the boy's slim four-inch shaft. "Do you kiss?"
Bradshaw grinned and nodded. A moment later, their lips were locked together. Michael was completely taken aback. This wasn't the gentle kissing he was used to. Bradshaw was going for it one hundred per cent, their tongues engaged in a full-scale wrestling match. The kid was a tiger! And that was what made him different, Michael realised. Whether he was doing maths, playing football or having sex, this would be how he did it. After a couple of minutes, they broke the kiss.
"Would it be alright if we used first names?" Michael suggested. "I'm Mike."
"Russell," the twelve-year old answered.
Placing his thumb and forefinger around the base of his new friend's hard teen cock, he snaked around, taking it right into his mouth. He sucked it purposefully, just as he did everything else. Michael could hardly believe it. Some of the other boys were good at sucking, but none of them went at it the way Russell Bradshaw did.
"Oh!" he warned. "Be careful! I don't want to cum yet!"
Russell pulled away. "Want to do a sixty-nine?" he asked.
"We can try it. It might be a bit awkward though. I'm a lot taller than you. Have you met Southcott?"
"Yeah, he came over last week. It should have been Holdsworth, but he'd got a cold, so Southcott came instead. We had a super time!"
"Oh, he's really nice! Mad as a hatter, but I like him a lot. Anyway, I've done sixty-nines with him, but it was a bit of a struggle."
"Let's give it a try."
With each of them lying on his left side, they got into position. With his cock fully in Michael's mouth, Russell was able to close his lips over the older boy's cock, but could only get around two inches down. It was as far as he could reach.
Instinctively, Michael slipped his hand between the youngster's legs, his index finger quickly locating the lad's rosebud. But pulling his head back to get some movement, his prick slipped out of Russell's mouth.
"Sorry," he said. "This isn't working."
"Are you going to stick it up my bum?" Russell asked, looking up at him.
"Is that okay?"
"Okay, get on all fours first."
With Russell in position, Michael knelt behind, swiping his tongue over the lad's little pink starfish. He began to lap at it until the tip was right inside.
"Oh, yeah!" Russell groaned.
Removing his tongue, Michael coated his index finger with K-Y before steadily pushing it into the younger boy's anus.
"Come on!" Russell insisted. "I want your cock!"
Sitting back on his heels, Michael smeared K-Y over his penis. Russell's energetic approach had set him a challenge. Determined not to be outdone by the younger lad, he was going to give it everything.
"Okay!" he instructed. "Over onto your back!"
As soon as Russell's shoulders were on the mattress, Michael lifted the twelve-year old's legs, pushing them back until the lad's knees were close to his shoulders.
"Hold yourself there!" he ordered.
With Russell holding himself in position, Michael shuffled right in, guiding his cock onto the youngster's rosebud. He pushed hard, penetrating the lad immediately. Russell grinned. Having become accustomed to Mr Faulkner's, taking the teenager's slimmer prong was easy.
"Come on!" he urged. "Stick it right in!"
Michael pushed down, his penis disappearing into Russell's boy-tunnel until he was balls-deep in the youngster's arse. After a moment to settle himself, he set about his task, remorselessly pounding the youngster's bottom. Russell was in ecstasy, the horny teenager the only one to come close to fucking him the way that Mr Faulkner did.
"Oh yeah!" he panted, his eyes fixed on the thirteen-year old's penis driving in and out of his bum. "Do it! Hard as you can!"
Michael redoubled his efforts, perspiration running down his forehead. Suddenly he was there.
"Oh fuck!" he rasped. "I'm going to cum!"
He thrust right in, three powerful jets of teen spunk spurting into the younger lad's bottom, followed by a few weaker ones. And that was it. He was light-headed, gasping for air, the room spinning around him. As his breathing began to recover, he carefully withdrew.
"Have you cum?" he panted.
Russell shook his head. Michael knelt down by the side of the bed.
"Get up on your knees," he instructed, pointing to his open mouth.
Russell understood immediately. Kneeling up on the bed, he turned to face the teenager, guiding his cock between the older boy's lips. Placing his hands on Michael's head, he began to fuck. Less than twenty seconds later, he was depositing boy-juice onto the thirteen-year old's tongue. His orgasm at an end, he carefully eased away.
"Mmmm!" Michael purred, licking his lips. "You make lovely spunk!"
"And you certainly know how to fuck," Russell said, grinning. "That was incredible!"
After a cursory visit to the bathroom, the boys began to pull on their clothes.
"During the holiday, Michael asked, "Would you like to come over to my house?"
"Sure," Russell answered. "How will I get there?"
"We could meet in town and go on the bus," Michael suggested. "Once you know where it is, you'll probably be able to come on your bike, if you want to, that is."
"Okay. Which day?"
"We can't do it on Monday. Mum and Dad will be off work. Tuesday afternoon would be good. D'you know the café by the bus station?"
"Yeah, I know where you mean."
"Meet me there, two o'clock."
They returned to the lounge. Alex could see straight away that things had gone well. He was pleased. At the very least, the fact that Whitney and Bradshaw actually liked each other would make his life a little less complicated.
"Well, sir," Michael said, smirking. "I'd better go now. I'll let you two get on with it."
"Thanks for coming," Alex said, following him to the door. "Come over Thursday afternoon."
"That'll probably be the day Holdsworth comes to mine."
"Yes, I'd forgotten about that. I'll pick you up then. If he's with you, fine. If he's not, it won't matter for once."
Having shown the lad out, he returned to the lounge.
"So how was it?" he asked, smiling at Bradshaw.
"Good! He's okay. He's got a super cock; it's like a telegraph pole!"
"So you got on alright?"
"Yes, sir. I'm going to his house on Tuesday."
"Did you go all the way?"
"Yeah. He gave me an unbelievable fuck." Stretching out a hand, he ran his fingers over the hard bulge in the front of his mentor's trousers. "Almost as good as you give me, sir."
"So is that what you want?" Alex asked.
"Well sir, it's been three days since I had it," Bradshaw answered, continuing to stroke. "And it'll be another three days before I can have it again."
"Well," Alex cooed, nuzzling the boy's ear. "I can't argue with that."