by Pink Panther

Hi everybody! Back again with another chapter. The story is really speeding along now, so read on and enjoy! As always, feedback will be more than welcome. Please send your comments to and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

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November 1961

Back at the flat, Alex sat on his sofa. He considered the situation. During his first two years at Woodchurch, things had seemed to fall rather neatly into his lap. That was no longer happening. It wasn't a total surprise. He knew that his run of good fortune was bound to come to an end at some point.

He'd passed up the opportunity to recruit Davies into his inner circle, considering the risks to be unacceptably high. He had not altered his opinion. A few, admittedly half-hearted attempts to raise some interest among the handful of reasonably pleasant-looking boys in 1-White had produced no reaction at all, and without Bradshaw's help, there was no possibility of involving the younger Newton. This left the probability of him acquiring a sex partner from among the first-year boys at somewhere between negligible and zero.

The real blow, however, was that all the hopes and expectations he'd had for his relationship with Bradshaw had crumbled into dust. At first, he struggled to understand why this had happened. During his own school days, he'd been aware of several relationships between boys and masters that had been extremely close and had lasted for years. Was Bradshaw really so different from the lads that he'd been at school with?

Although the twelve-year old was from a rather different background, Alex sensed that this didn't really explain why the lad had grown away from him so quickly, especially as things had started so well. It didn't help that he was no longer coaching the football team of which Bradshaw was a member, but that too seemed an inadequate explanation. If he was going to establish a close, lasting relationship with a boy, Bradshaw should have been the one, but that was not how things had turned out.

The reason sneaked up on him, appearing, as it were, out of nowhere. It wasn't that the boys were different; it was the environment. At boarding school, during term time, that was the only life the boys had. Bradshaw, like the other boys at Woodchurch, had a life outside school. That was the difference.

The implication was all too clear. For as long as he was working at a day school like Woodchurch, it was unlikely that he would be able to build the sort of relationship that Gordon had with his `special' boys, and that was what mattered. He might still have plenty of man-boy sex, as he had been doing, but that, he now realised, was rather like having the icing without the cake. Nor was that the only consideration. Although he'd done his best to minimise the risks, he sensed that he was sitting on a time-bomb. Sooner or later, his activities would come to light. When that happened, not only would he lose his career, he would almost certainly be sent to jail.

If he were working at an independent school, he might still be caught, but the matter would be covered up. He would have to leave; he might even have to find an alternative means of earning a living, but with his background and qualifications that would not be difficult. A criminal conviction, however, would make starting afresh very much harder.

He now had to consider what he should do about it. With his qualifications and experience, obtaining a post at a leading Public School would be relatively easy, but as boys didn't start at these institutions until they were thirteen, only a small number of each year's new entrants would be of interest to him, and they, as he well knew, would be in high demand. To make matters worse, most of them would lose their youthful charms within a year or so.

That brought him back to his original intention to work at a boarding prep school. This, however, would not be straightforward. First of all, he was over-qualified. Many prep schools would query why he wanted to teach there. Second, not all such schools would allow him the latitude that he was seeking. Finally, only the best schools would be able to offer him the sort of salary that he was currently earning, and positions at such schools did not become available very often. Even when they did, they were frequently not advertised. Instead, candidates were sought from among those already working in that sector. There was no other choice, Alex decided. He would have to seek Gordon's assistance. In the meantime, he would continue as normal.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

December 1961

Preparations for the pre-Christmas exams had gone well. In previous years, Lorenzo had never prepared at all, leaving to chance how much he'd be able to remember. This time, it had been quite different. Having got the bit firmly between his teeth, he was determined to make the best showing he could and had revised accordingly.

For his part, although he'd always worked hard through the term, Michael had never put much emphasis on revision. On this occasion, however, in order to show support for his boyfriend, he'd revised conscientiously. With the exams about to begin, they'd both put in the work and were both confident. Now what they had to do was deliver.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As Alex had been through the routine a number of times, exam week held few surprises for him. For most of his classes, he could predict the results with a fair degree of confidence. The exception was the fourth-year top set. Having covered a huge amount of work in such a short space of time, he found it difficult to estimate how well the boys would handle it in exam conditions.

As the boys had to do two papers, each of two hours, he did not get the full picture until the following weekend, after the exams had finished. Taking the results over the two papers, the lowest mark was fifty-two per cent. There were a further three scores in the fifties. The remaining marks ranged from the low sixties up to Ferris's ninety-five, with at least a dozen boys on course for one of the top two grades. After all the work he'd put in, Alex breathed a huge sigh of relief. He'd done what he'd been expected to do and the boys had done him proud.

The following Tuesday, Alex took the opportunity to visit Neil Fleming's classroom to look through all the results. The pattern was much as it had been on previous occasions. At the top end, the results obtained by his classes were comparable to those of the other classes in the year. At the bottom end, however, they were quite different. There were no boys in any of his classes who were failing badly, and only a handful who were near the borderline. In his fifth-year class, every boy was on course to pass the O-level exam, whereas in each of the parallel groups there were at least a couple who seemed destined to fail.

"You've done it again," Neil congratulated. "You have a real talent for getting the best out of the boys who don't find maths easy."

"There's no secret," Alex responded.

"I know," Neil acknowledged. "It's simply good teaching and bloody-minded persistence. The teaching I can do; the persistence is a different matter."

"You've got a department to run and a family to look after," Alex countered, smiling. "I haven't; not yet anyway."

They didn't even mention the fourth-year top set. As far as Alex knew, the results were what they were expected to be. There was no more to be said.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

By Tuesday afternoon, Michael had received most of his exam results. With only history and physics to come, his marks had improved in every subject. Most of the improvements had been quite small, but in chemistry, he'd scored seventy-two per cent, up from fifty-five back in the summer.

As he changed out of his school uniform, he wondered anxiously how Lorenzo had got on. He'd seemed pretty confident when they'd met on Saturday afternoon, but was that confidence justified? He was about to find out. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Hurrying downstairs, he opened the front door. Lorenzo stepped inside, smiling.

"Well?" Michael demanded.

"I've done okay." Lorenzo responded quietly.

"What does `okay' mean?" Michael queried.

"Well, I got twenty-four in physics and twenty-eight in Religious Studies, but we knew that was going to happen. On the plus side, I got over eighty in French, history and both English exams, seventy-three in geography and sixty-four in maths. I'm still waiting for Latin, which should be okay, and chemistry, which we can forget about."

"Reno! That's wonderful!" Michael enthused.

"Actually, it's better than I expected," Lorenzo admitted. "Most of the teachers were really pleased, which makes a change."

"Yeah, I can imagine!"

"They told me to make sure I keep it going."

"And you will, won't you?"

"Of course I will! Having worked that hard, I'm not going to throw it away now."

"Okay, let's go upstairs."

Up in Michael's bedroom, clothes were quickly discarded, the boys snuggling up on Michael's bed.

"I'm so proud of you!" Michael purred, his eyes locked onto Lorenzo's.

"Well, you haven't done badly yourself," Lorenzo countered. "I love how you chip away at things. You just don't give up."

Over the next fifteen minutes they ranged across all their usual foreplay. It was sensuous and affectionate, the boys completely at peace with each other. It was time to bring matters to a conclusion.

"What would you like to do?" Michael asked."

"I want you to make love to me," Lorenzo responded.


"Yeah! I've got the best boyfriend in the whole world. I wouldn't have done any of this without you. I want to show you how much that means."

As Lorenzo lifted his legs, Michael got onto his knees, his cock homing in on his boyfriend's starfish. He deftly pushed it in before lowering himself between Lorenzo's thighs, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. The boys' lovemaking was everything either of them could have wanted, wonderfully intense without being the least bit rough, a perfect encapsulation of the feelings they had for each other.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

With all the exam results to hand, Michael had risen to fourth in 3-Green, narrowly edging out his friend Lambert, with only Carver, Grainger and Newton ahead of him. Among the whole year group, he'd finished fourteenth. It was considerably better than he'd expected.

Even though he'd noted the improvement in the teenager's work during the term, Alex was surprised too. Whitney, a good but not exceptional student, had performed as well as some of the most able boys in the year. Although being industrious, well-organised and determined had always served the boy well, the catalyst for what had happened recently had been the lad's relationship with Lorenzo Parker. Sometimes, Alex reflected, things worked in very strange ways.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As 5-Blue strolled into their form room for afternoon registration, Lorenzo was surprised to see Troy Stainham standing by his desk.

"You've done remarkably well," he commented, smiling. "Twelfth overall is pretty good, considering that last term you were thirtieth. And Calladine reckons if we just considered the subjects you've actually worked for, you'd have been fifth." He leaned in close. "I know why," he whispered. "You've met someone special. I think it's super! It was exactly what you needed. And don't worry; I'm not going to say anything. I'm not even going to ask who it is."

"Stainham," Mr Sutherland said sharply. "Go and sit down. I have a register to mark."

"Sorry sir," Stainham responded, smiling innocently as he took his place.

Lorenzo was bemused. Stainham was one of the boys who'd read his story. Was he the only one who'd really understood it, or did the other boys not want to talk about it? Maybe, he decided, it was a bit of both.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Gordon listened intently as Alex brought him up to date.

"Well," he said thoughtfully. "Things do seem to have reached something of a crossroads for you. It's unfortunate that Bradshaw is unwilling to bring his younger friend to your establishment, but there's nothing you can do. You can't risk upsetting the apple cart. As far as finding a suitable prep school job for you, I'll keep my ears to the ground. I'll let you know straightaway if I hear of anything."

After the usual end of term activities, the school closed for the Christmas break on Friday 22nd December. The following morning, Alex drove to his parents' house, where he had arranged to stay until the following Friday. He was exhausted and there was nothing to bring him back earlier. More than anything else, it would give him time to think.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

On the Saturday before Christmas, Michael was invited to go to Lorenzo's house for lunch, an invitation he readily accepted. Arriving at around half past twelve, he rang the bell.

"Michael, please come in," Mrs Parker gushed, opening the front door. "We're so pleased you could come!"

"It's my pleasure," Michael responded, rather taken aback to be greeted in this way. "Thanks for inviting me."

He was ushered into the living room.

"Since Lorenzo met you," Mrs Parker went on. "He has changed so much. He was never a bad boy, but he wasn't doing well at school. He didn't seem interested. We were worried he wouldn't be able to stay on in the sixth form. But this term everything changed. He's worked so hard."

"You've been a real friend to him," Mr Parker added gruffly. "Showed him how to do things properly. How did you get on in your exams?"

"I was fourth in my form," Michael answered, somewhat concerned by where the conversation might be going.

"A result of a great deal of hard work, no doubt," Mr Parker asserted.

"I'm not as clever as Lorenzo," Michael said disarmingly. "I've always had to work hard."

"Well, I'm pleased to see that Lorenzo's caught the bug," Mr Parker said firmly. "We're very grateful to you for setting him such a positive example."

"It's Lorenzo that's done the work," Michael said modestly.

"Yes, but only since he is friends with you," Mrs Parker said. "We already tell him how pleased we are."

With both Francesca and Mrs Parker having been involved in its preparation, lunch was a splendid affair, which Michael considered to be one of the best meals he'd ever eaten. He was relieved that the accompanying conversation was quite inconsequential. Although he appreciated the thanks he'd received for helping Lorenzo, he couldn't afford to have his boyfriend's parents delve too deeply. With lunch finally over, he turned to Lorenzo.

"Washing up, then?" he suggested.

"Yeah, sure!" Lorenzo agreed.

"That's typical!" Mr Parker commented. "Knows the washing-up doesn't do itself. Doesn't wait to be asked; just gets on with it."

As the boys began to clear things away, Michael managed to stop himself smirking. Although he and Lorenzo invariably did the washing up when he visited for lunch, on this occasion his enthusiasm to get on with it had been fuelled by the desire to escape from his boyfriend's parents before they began to ask awkward questions.

"Sorry about that," Lorenzo whispered as they made their way into the kitchen. "Mum asked me to invite you. I didn't know she was going to make a fuss."

"Not to worry!" Michael said, grinning. "I think we got away with it!"

With the chore completed, the boys said their goodbyes, telling Lorenzo's parents that they were going to Michael's house. Instead they cycled to the flat.

"Hi boys!" Jack greeted as they strolled into his lounge. "Good to see you! I wondered if you'd be coming over."

"Michael just got ambushed by my parents," Lorenzo informed him. "Mum asked me to invite him for lunch. I had no idea what she had in mind. It was so embarrassing!"

"Well, it's good to know that they appreciate how much difference it's made," Jack responded, "but I know what you mean."

"I was worried that they'd start asking awkward questions," Michael intervened. "For one thing, I'm sure they think we're in the same year."

"Yes, they probably do. I wouldn't worry about it. People don't usually ask questions when things are going well."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Michael and Lorenzo had agreed that during the holiday, they wouldn't even think about schoolwork. This would be their time, and they were determined to make the most of it. During the first week of the holiday, with Michael's parents off work, his Uncle Jack's flat became his and Lorenzo's refuge. Apart from Christmas Day itself, not a day went by without them sneaking off there for at least an hour. It was everything that Jack had promised it would be, a place where they could be themselves in safety and comfort.

Knowing that Chris and Mark were in much the same position did make things a little awkward, for Michael especially. He felt rather mean, keeping it to himself, but it wasn't his flat, was it? He and Lorenzo had been given the use of the spare bedroom. It wasn't for him to invite other boys to join them.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Having made an early start, on the Friday after Christmas, Alex got back to his flat just before ten o'clock. With Bradshaw due to arrive for a tutorial at half past, he spent the intervening time pottering around. A couple of minutes before the appointed time, the doorbell rang. Going to answer it, Alex found his protégé standing there, looking as sexy as he always did.

"Come in!" Alex said warmly, welcoming him inside. "Have you had a good Christmas?"

"Okay, sir."

"Have you seen much of young Newton?"

"Not really, sir. Yesterday we went out on our bikes, but we couldn't actually do anything; it was too cold."

"I see!"

"But Mum's back at work tomorrow, so he's coming over to mine."

"Hmmm! I bet you're looking forward to that!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Right then," Alex announced. "It's time we got some work done."

They spent half an hour or so completing the work on quadratic functions that they'd begun before the holidays. With the topic safely put to bed, Alex reached across to stroke the boy's exposed thighs.

"I bet you've missed me, haven't you sir?" Bradshaw suggested, opening his legs.

"Yes," Alex conceded, "but I needed a break. By the end of term, I was very tired."

"But you're ready now, aren't you sir?"

"Definitely," Alex confirmed. "And by the looks of things, I'd say you were too."

Not having cum for more than forty-eight hours, Alex was more than ready, and appearances suggested that Bradshaw was in much the same state. Without another word, they began to undress each other, Alex finding it hard to restrain himself from ripping off the youngster's clothes.

As soon as they were naked, they snuggled up on the bed, kissing with an intensity that had become unfamiliar in recent weeks. Their foreplay proceeded with an unusual sense of urgency. Aware that the boy had not been penetrated for more than a week, Alex knew he ought to take his time, but both his hormones and Bradshaw's dictated otherwise. Within just a few minutes, Bradshaw was lying face-down, a towel-covered pillow beneath his hips, his legs spread wide apart. Alex lowered himself onto the boy, his K-Y coated appendage homing in on the twelve-year old's starfish. With one determined thrust, he pushed it in.

"Oh yes!" Bradshaw gasped. "Come on, sir! You know what I want!"

With scarcely a pause, Alex continued to push down, steadily reaming the youngster's tight little tunnel. His cockhead drove over Bradshaw's sex-gland, the boy's penis twitching in response. Moments later, his pubic bone was pressed tight against the youngster's bottom. Holding the lad by the shoulders, he took a deep breath and set to his task.

Almost before he knew it, Bradshaw found himself on the receiving end of the most intense fuck he could remember. His mentor's breath flooded his nostrils, the man's prong repeatedly stimulating his prostate while at the same time his own prick was being rubbed back and forth against the towel. After no more than ninety seconds he began to shudder, the tingling sensations beyond anything he'd ever experienced. As Mr Faulkner's thrusting cock kept him pinned to the bed, his penis jerked repeatedly, three volleys of sticky boy-juice soaking into the towel.

"Oh, you sexy boy!" Alex rasped. "You really needed that! Now take what I've got for you!"

With his balls churning into action, Alex plunged in as deep as he could, his creamy spunk spurting over and over into the twelve-year old's bottom. He was so light-headed, he hardly knew where he was, the room spinning around him. Very slowly, he recovered his composure and carefully withdrew.

"Wow, sir!" Bradshaw enthused. "That was fantastic! The best ever!"

"Are you okay?" Alex enquired, knowing that he'd fucked the lad much harder than he'd intended.

"My bum's a bit sore, but I'll be fine," Bradshaw said, giving his mentor a nonchalant grin.

Getting off the bed, he headed to the bathroom, leaving Alex to reflect on the lad's resilience.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was Sunday afternoon when Bradshaw returned to the flat.

"I've got a surprise for you," Alex said as they settled themselves at his desk. "We're going to leave the work for your Additional Maths exam for today. We can do that during the week. I've decided to use our Sunday sessions to do some proper mathematics, the sort of maths they do at university."

An introduction to abstract algebra would have been the obvious choice; eighteen months earlier, it was what he'd done with Calladine. But Bradshaw's exceptional facility with arithmetic suggested that number theory might be a better option.

The boy simply lapped it up. Having always enjoyed playing with numbers, being introduced to the mysteries of why they work the way they do was a revelation. It was as though he'd been invited to explore a secret world that only an elite few are allowed to enter.

Alex was fully engaged too. For the first time in several months, he was actually teaching the boy, instead of merely pointing him in the right direction. After a while, Alex checked his watch. More than an hour had simply flown past.

"Okay," he said gently. "I think that's enough for today."

"Sir, that was brilliant!" Bradshaw said, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "Will we be doing this every Sunday?"

"Yes," Alex confirmed. "Number theory will probably keep us occupied till around Easter time. After that, there are lots of other branches of mathematics that we can explore." Reaching across, he began to stroke the twelve-year old's thighs. "You're a very special young man," he added quietly.

Bradshaw simply melted into his arms in a way that he hadn't for several months, rekindling the excitement of their early days together. The sex that followed was a total contrast with what had happened two days earlier. Whereas that had been frenetic, on this occasion they were sensuous, affectionate and unhurried.

Finally, it was time to bring matters to a conclusion. With preparations completed, Alex turned Bradshaw onto his back and lifted the boy's legs. Immediately getting the message, Bradshaw grasped them around his knees, holding them close to his shoulders. Alex shuffled in close, guiding his cock onto the youngster's rosebud, Bradshaw watching intently as his mentor's prong slowly disappeared into his bottom.

"Oh sir!" he gasped, smiling. "That feels fantastic!"

Alex set about giving the lad a long, steady fuck. He watched the boy's face, noting the little grimaces, his ears picking up the quiet moans and whimpers as his prick stimulated the twelve-year old's sex-button.

With no warning, Bradshaw bucked violently. In the next instant, his penis jumped into life, three volleys of boy-cum arcing through the air and splattering the youngster's chest, a couple of drops even hitting his chin.

"Oh yes!" Alex rasped, feeling the boy's anal ring clamping tight around his cock. "Time you had your bottom filled!"

Over the next several seconds, he pumped rope after rope of creamy spunk into his protégé's rectum. It felt as though the flow would never stop until suddenly it did. Alex looked down, noting the beatific smile on the boy's face, and the youngster's chest, splattered with translucent boy-juice, rising and falling.

"I think you enjoyed that," Alex said, recovering his composure.

"Oh, yes sir!" Bradshaw confirmed. "That was amazing!"

Very carefully, Alex withdrew. He flopped down onto the bed. Grabbing the towel from the bedside cabinet, Bradshaw put it beneath him before turning to face his mentor. Their lips met in a passionate, post-fuck kiss, the man's spunk slowly leaking from the youngster's starfish.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

January 1962

The next week passed in something of a blur. With parents back at work and the cold, damp weather discouraging them from going out, the boys had lots of sex, including another four-way at Michael's house. Alex had plenty of sex too, with Bradshaw and Pennington, both individually and together, culminating in a foursome for which they were joined by Mr Brown.

Finally, on the Monday after New Year, they returned to school, the boys slotting back into the routine as though they'd never been away. Alex settled into the new term with batteries recharged. No longer concerned that his fourth-year top set were not going to do as well as their predecessors, he found it easier than he had in the previous term.

They still had to cover the work very quickly and the class still generated a mountain of marking for him to do, but he'd become accustomed to it. More importantly, the boys had become accustomed to it, and buoyed by their exam results, they were more confident in their ability to do what was being asked of them. That made a big difference. In addition, Alex knew which boys needed a little more support than the others and he made sure that they received the help they required.

His sex-life fell into a pattern too. He saw Pennington on Tuesdays and Saturdays, Bradshaw on Thursdays and Sundays. Sunday afternoons were the highlight of his week. Tutoring Bradshaw on number theory was intensely stimulating, and whether they had visitors or not, the sex that followed never disappointed.

However, the longer-term problems seemed as intractable as ever. Even though he and Bradshaw were getting along as well as they ever had, he was sure that would not extend to his protégé persuading the younger Newton to visit his flat. It seemed likely that at some point Bradshaw and Newton Junior would start to take things more seriously and he'd lose the older boy as a sex-partner.

He would, he presumed, still have Pennington, but he hardly had any sort of relationship with the lad. They met up for sex; there was no more to it than that. In October, once the boy's older brother and Jarrett went off to university, he could probably arrange to hook-up with the young Davies, who by then would be in second-year, but even that would not be without its dangers.

Given the extent of the man's boy-watching activities, Alex considered, Richard Needham probably already knew that the lad was being fucked. From what he'd been told, the prodigiously-endowed Jarrett quite often had sex with the boy at the weekend. With the youngster being small and slightly built, and first-year games taking place on Monday afternoons, evidence of his penetration would be readily apparent to anyone who knew what to look for, as the senior games master clearly did. Even several months down the line, trying to make a connection with the boy would be risky.

He might, he speculated, have more luck finding a first-year boy from the following year's intake than he'd had this time around, but there could be no guarantee. Even if he did, it seemed unlikely that he'd be able to build the sort of relationship that he really wanted.

Accordingly, each Friday he obtained a copy of The Times Educational Supplement, studying the job adverts to see what was available. In four successive editions, he found nothing that would fit the bill. Prospects were not looking good.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

February 1962

It was early on Friday evening. Four weeks into the Spring Term, January had given way to February. Alex was pottering around at home, putting his shopping away prior to cooking his evening meal. He couldn't complain, he reflected; life was very pleasant. He was working at an excellent school, all his classes were doing well and working with Bradshaw had once again become an absolute joy. In addition, he was having sex with both Bradshaw and Pennington, two extremely sexy boys, both of whom had recently turned thirteen. How could he possibly ask for more?

It was about the future, he reminded himself. Neither of his current relationships could last forever. Establishing new ones could prove very difficult, especially given Mr Needham's determination not to allow him to coach any of the younger football teams. It seemed inevitable that at some point, things would go badly wrong. Unexpectedly, the telephone rang. He picked it up.

"Good evening," Gordon said. "Have you seen the Times Ed this week?"

"Not yet," Alex responded. "I picked up my copy on my way home. I was going to look at it later."

"Excellent! Do you remember a school called Austerley?"

"Yes, of course. We used to play rugby against them. I never thought it was much good."

"It wasn't; mediocre at best. But it did have some very nice buildings on a large, attractive site. Well, a few years ago, when the last head retired, a new board of trustees took it over. They spent some money, actually quite a lot of money, improving the facilities and building more dormitories. They appointed a new head who had done well at his previous school. He eased out some of the existing staff and replaced them with young energetic teachers who were keen to raise standards.

In most areas, they've improved tremendously. The exception is maths. Their current maths specialist has taught there since he was demobbed after the war. When the school was taken over, he was already in his fifties and wasn't going anywhere. And the maths results were okay; not as good as they wanted, but not bad enough to justify pushing him out. They thought they might have to wait for him to retire, but a couple of years ago, he developed heart problems. They've now arranged for him to retire early on health grounds. He'll be leaving at Easter. Of course, since he's been unwell, standards in maths have gone down. They're now looking for someone who can turn the situation around quickly. I thought it would be right up your street."

"It certainly sounds like it could be," Alex said guardedly. "What sort of regime do they run?"

"A liberal and pragmatic one," Gordon told him. "The new music master they brought in is a friend of mine, Julian Temple-Reid, who is of our persuasion. He tells me that the atmosphere in the school is the best he's ever worked in. Bullies, or potential bullies, are very firmly dealt with, and they encourage excellence right across the board. As far as other matters go, as long as it's all consensual and one acts with discretion, relationships are, shall we say, tolerated. Julian's had a special boy for the past two and a half years. The young man in question is due to leave in the summer.

"You said `a boy'?"

"Yes. From what I can gather, one is expected to be monogamous. You might get away with a bit on the side, but you'd need to keep it very quiet. I know that's not quite what I enjoy, but I don't think there are many places where you'll find that."

"Yes, I was thinking that myself. The problem is that I won't be available until September."

"Really? I would have thought that by Easter you'd have covered everything that they need to know."

"That's only partially true. Yes, we'll have covered the work, but in those final few weeks, the boys need to be working with somebody they're familiar with, someone they understand. To complicate matters, this year I was given the fourth-year top set, who'll do their O-level exam this summer. By Easter, we will have barely covered the syllabus. I certainly won't have had time to prepare them to answer the exam questions."

"I see," Gordon said thoughtfully. "They may be prepared to wait; I really don't know. The job does have some other benefits."

"Which are?"

"In September, there will be a housemaster post available, which would make things much easier for you. And you'd be able to help coaching the rugby teams, of course. But longer term, there is another possible benefit. The head that they brought in is due to retire in just over four years. Were you to succeed in turning the maths results around, as I suspect you might, you could be a very strong candidate to replace him."

"Very interesting!" Alex responded, his enthusiasm for the job having suddenly increased. "It certainly won't hurt to put in an application. I'll get onto it."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex spent most of the weekend working on his application, detailing his achievements and setting out why he thought he was the right man for the job. He still had misgivings. One boy at a time did seem rather restrictive, especially when compared with the way that Gordon was able to operate.

But Gordon, Alex realised, was a special case. Both his reputation, and the nature of his role of Director of Music at one of the country's great cathedrals, gave him a degree of latitude that Alex knew he would never be allowed. The important thing was that moving to Austerley, or a school like it, would enable him to cultivate the sort of relationship that Gordon had with his boys, and would be much safer than staying at Woodchurch. In any case, Alex reminded himself, he didn't want to look too far ahead. The school had yet to offer him an interview.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At Monday morning break, Alex went to talk to Neil Fleming, to tell him about applying for the post at Austerley.

"Well," Neil said. "I have to say that I'm very disappointed. After another couple of years here, you'd be in line either for second in department at one of the top grammar schools, or head of department at a smaller school. And a few years after that, you'd be looking for head of department posts at the best schools in the country. But here you are, with a first from Cambridge, applying to teach in a school of eight to thirteen-year olds. As far as I'm concerned, it's an absolute waste. And as a career move, I can't think of anything worse."

"A few weeks ago," Alex countered, "you told me that I had a special talent for getting the best out of boys who find maths difficult. I think you're right, and teaching at a prep school would really put it to the test. Having passed the eleven-plus, all the boys here have the ability to pass O-level maths; it's just that some of them get lost along the way. At a prep school, even a good one, some of the boys won't be capable of passing Common Entrance. What I'll have to do is to try to build their confidence and help them get better. That will be quite a challenge."

"As a matter of courtesy, you need to go and speak to the Head," Neil advised. "He'll have to write your reference. I'm sure he'll be as disappointed as I am."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Well," Mr Cope said, looking less than pleased. "I knew we'd lose you in a year or two, but I'm appalled that you're applying to teach in the independent sector. You've done so well here. Ordinary boys from ordinary homes need teachers like you."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Alex responded politely. "I have to say it wasn't planned. I was asked to apply by a very good friend. And as I was explaining to Mr Fleming, the job does present some challenges that I'd be interested in having a go at. But nothing's been decided. I might not suit the school or the school might not suit me. And I've made it absolutely clear that I won't be available until September. They may not want to wait."

"Well, I can assure you that I will give you a very good reference," Mr Cope said quietly, "but I'll be very sorry to lose you to the independent sector. As the Bible says, `To them that have, more will be added unto.'"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Since the start of term, Michael had been working better than ever. He had a boyfriend that he was totally in love with, and he knew that Lorenzo felt the same way about him. In addition, he had good friends around him, and to his surprise, he had developed an easy-going relationship with his dad. Finally feeling that he belonged, it was the happiest time of his life. As a result, his self-belief was at an all-time high. Never a shirker, he expected more of himself, and was more than willing to put in the work to achieve his goals. But there was no hint of arrogance. He just quietly got on with things, the same as he always had.

It was Saturday afternoon. At Jack's flat, Michael and Lorenzo were snuggled up in what had become `their bed'. Right at that moment, Lorenzo was sucking on Michael's left nipple, while using the fingers of his left hand to gently fondle the other one. Following the four-way back in October, they'd experimented more and more with this type of foreplay. Totally fascinated by it, Lorenzo had developed a quite extraordinary expertise.

Michael was ecstatic, transported to a world where no other reality existed. Over the previous couple of months, the older boy had allowed his hair to grow, determined not to have it cut until the warm weather returned. Michael ran his fingers appreciatively through the thick, jet-black curls, reflecting that having sex with Lorenzo had reached a level that not even he and Chris had approached. After seven months together, they didn't need to think about how to give each other pleasure. It had become completely instinctive.

As his free hand gently stroked his boyfriend's bottom, a well-timed nip from Lorenzo's teeth made him jump, his cock twitching with excitement. Without a word, they morphed into a sixty-nine. They sucked each other purposefully, each of them taking the other's penis right down to the root, Michael working a well-lubricated finger into his partner's rosebud. There was no holding back, the intensity building towards the inevitable climax.

Suddenly, Lorenzo's muscles went into spasm. A moment later, his cock jerked into action, jets of his tangy cum coating his boyfriend's tongue. Michael's orgasm followed in an instant. Holding Lorenzo's head, his prong erupted, volley after volley of creamy semen spurting into the fifteen-year old's mouth. After a few seconds they disengaged. Snuggling up, their lips met in a passionate kiss, remnants of their spunk mixing delightfully together.

After no more than ten minutes, they were both hornier than ever. As Lorenzo got onto all fours, Michael knelt down behind, working his tongue into the older boy's starfish. With his tongue beginning to ache, Michael pulled away, quickly replacing it with his index finger. A second digit soon joined it, Michael working the two fingers around to loosen his boyfriend's anal ring.

Their preparations completed, Michael allowed both digits to slide out. Without waiting to be asked, Lorenzo flipped onto his back, pulling up his legs so that his knees were close to his shoulders, his hole completely exposed.

"Come on, Mike!" he urged. "Give me your cock!"

Having coated his penis with K-Y, Michael shuffled in close. Very deliberately, he thrust it into his boyfriend's waiting hole. He pushed down steadily, his cock slowly disappearing into the fifteen-year old's bum. After a few seconds, he bottomed out.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he demanded.

"Oh, yeah!" Lorenzo responded. "Do it, Mike! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"

Pushing his torso down between his partner's thighs, Michael pressed his lips onto Lorenzo's. Immediately, he set to his task, fucking the boy with long, powerful strokes. Having cum less than fifteen minutes earlier, he knew it wouldn't be quick. That was what he wanted, what they both wanted. On he went, pounding his boyfriend's bottom, kissing and fucking as though it was his last day on earth. Five minutes became ten. He was ready. He'd cum the moment that Lorenzo did, but it wasn't happening. Michael knew instantly what he needed to do. There was a look of disappointment on Lorenzo's face as he withdrew his cock from his partner's anus.

"Lie on your tummy!" Michael instructed, smiling as he picked up one of the spare pillows.

Taking the pillow, Lorenzo placed it in the middle of the bed, covering it with a towel from the bedside cabinet. He lay down submissively, the pillow under his boy-parts, his legs wide apart. Kneeling between them, Michael lowered himself into position, unceremoniously stuffing his cock back into his boyfriend's well-violated hole.

"Now I'm going to give you a proper fucking!" he whispered.

"Oh yes!" Lorenzo urged. "Do it, Mike! Give me your spunk!"

Reinvigorated, Michael set to work, fucking the lad ferociously. After barely a minute, Lorenzo shook from head to toe, his fingers clawing at the mattress.

"Mike!" he gasped. "Mike! I'm going to cum!"

A moment later, his penis swelled and pulsed, his starfish clamping tight around Michael's cock, little jets of boy-juice squirting onto the towel.

"Oh yes!" Michael responded, delivering his creamy load into Lorenzo's bottom.

His orgasm at an end, he collapsed onto his boyfriend's back, completely exhausted. After a short while, his softening prick slipped out of his partner's anus. He rolled off onto his side, tired but very happy.

"Wow!" Lorenzo said, turning to face him. "That was wild!"

"Are you okay?" Michael asked.

"Of course I am!" Lorenzo assured him. "You can do that any time you like!"

Ten minutes later, the boys wandered, fully dressed, back into the lounge, Michael's arm wrapped protectively around Lorenzo's shoulder. Jack was sitting in an armchair, watching the television.

"You two look like you've enjoyed yourselves," he commented as the teenagers flopped down on the sofa.

"Yes, thanks!" Michael acknowledged.

"You certainly took your time over it," Jack probed.

"Well," Lorenzo explained. "First of all, we sucked each other off. Then as soon as we were both hard again, Mike fucked me. It was the longest fuck ever!"

"Oh, I see!" Jack said, grinning.

"Sometimes when we've been here during the holidays," Lorenzo went on, "we've each cum twice, but we've left it for about an hour after the first one before we started again. Today it was more like fifteen minutes."

Jack nodded sagely, the youngster's revelations making his cock throb inside his underwear. In the evening, he'd head into town. With a bit of luck, he'd meet someone who'd help him deal with the problem.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Two weeks after submitting his application, Alex received a letter. Interviews for the post at Austerley were to be held on Tuesday 27th February, the day after they returned from their half-term break, and he would be one of the candidates.

The date was significant, Alex realised. Someone taking up the post after Easter would need to resign from their present position by the day after the interviews. He steeled himself. He didn't care what blandishments were offered; he was not going to let down the school, his colleagues or the boys he was currently teaching by leaving before the end of the school year.