THE HUNTING SEASON

By Pink Panther

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CHAPTER EIGHT

November 1959

The under-15 football team were assembled in the changing room. They were very quiet. They knew how difficult the match would be. Alex looked at his watch. It was time to go.

"Okay lads," he said, firmly but quietly. "Remember what we did in practice. Be patient and stick to the plan. Right, let's get out there."

Five minutes later the match was underway. As expected, Northridge launched one attack after another, but with a line of four players across the back and another line of three just a few yards in front of them, the Woodchurch boys were denying them the space to play where it mattered. In the centre of their defence Etheridge was magnificent, dealing with everything that came his way and marshalling the other Woodchurch players.

After twenty minutes, the frustration of the Northridge players began to show. More and more of their players began to push forward, exactly as Alex had hoped they'd do. One of the Northridge boys sent a high ball into the penalty area. Etheridge headed it down to Wilson, who picked out Archer hovering near the halfway line.

As soon as the pass was made, Archer was on his way. Peeling away from his marker, he collected the ball and headed towards the opposing goal. Sharp and Rogers sprinted off in support, leaving the Northridge players trailing in their wake. Archer reached the edge of the Northridge penalty area. Seeing the goalkeeper advancing towards him, he coolly squared the ball to Rogers who slotted it into the empty net.

The Northridge boys were clearly rattled. While the Woodchurch defenders were giving them no space to play, on the counter-attack their three forwards were very dangerous. But they failed to learn the lesson. With half an hour gone, they were caught again.

This time it was Rogers who got the ball. He quickly moved it out to Archer on the left wing, who took it almost to the goal-line. Completely unchallenged, he sent in a perfect cross for Sharp to head home. They went to half time with Woodchurch leading by two goals to nil.

"Well done boys," Alex said quietly. "You've done superbly, but don't get too excited. We need to maintain our discipline and keep doing exactly what we've been doing."

As the second half began, the Northridge team looked better organised and more determined. Finally, they managed to create some space in the Woodchurch half of the pitch. With an outstanding display of skill, their leading goalscorer reached the edge of the penalty area. He unleashed a superb shot, leaving Nicholson in the Woodchurch goal with no chance.

With Northridge pressing for an equaliser, the next fifteen minutes were tense, but the visitors' earlier efforts were beginning to take their toll. As the Northridge team wilted, Woodchurch took control, adding a third goal to seal their victory.

After blowing the final whistle, Neil Fleming, who had refereed the game, strode across to Alex.

"You've really got this lot organised," he said. "That was a wonderful performance. I don't think Northridge knew what had hit them."

"They've been working really hard," Alex responded. "It's good to see it paying off."

The Woodchurch boys left the pitch buzzing with excitement. After years of trying, they had finally beaten Northridge. It was a day that most of them had not expected to see. As Alex followed behind them, Jim Etheridge hurried across from the far touchline.

"Mr Faulkner," he said shoving out a hand, "I just want to thank you for all the work you're doing with these boys. That's the best they've ever played. We've never got close to Northridge before. Philip's improved so much since you've been coaching them, so have the other boys. And your tactics worked like a charm."

"I just thought it was our best chance of beating them," Alex said modestly, accepting the handshake. "Thanks for your support. It means a lot. I hope we'll see you again."

He headed into the changing room where the boys were sitting on the benches, waiting for him.

"Well done," he said warmly. "I gave you a plan for today and you stuck to it perfectly. I'm proud of every one of you. But we mustn't get carried away. We've done well because you've worked hard and done what I've asked you to do. So keep working hard, keep doing what I ask you to do, and we'll be even better."

The boys began to get changed. Alex strolled outside, where the Northridge teacher was smoking a cigarette.

"Well done!" the man said, giving Alex a wry smile. "That was just the sort of kick up the backside we needed. It's been coming. The lads have been getting complacent, and it's hard for me to keep their feet on the ground when they're winning all the time. Well, they've had a lesson today. You got your tactics spot-on. It wasn't pretty to watch, but it worked."

"Thanks," Alex said appreciatively. "We'll look forward to coming to your place."

The Northridge teacher put out his cigarette and disappeared into the away team's changing room. Alex watched as the Woodchurch boys began to leave. Unexpectedly, Etheridge came to speak to him.

"Thanks sir," he said, smiling. "I thought we might give them a good game, but I never thought we'd beat them 3–1. What gave you the idea for us to play the way we did?"

"The figures tell the story," Alex said. "Before today, we'd scored twenty goals and conceded nine. Northridge had scored thirty-one. So they're a great team going forward and we needed to counter that, which we did by keeping players behind the ball. But they'd conceded seventeen, which told me their defence isn't that good, and we needed to find a way to exploit it. Fortunately, we were able to do that. Archer, Sharp and Rogers are all quite quick, and that's really what did it for us. And the last twenty minutes showed that you boys are fitter than they are."

"Sir, you're a genius!" Etheridge said, giving Mr Faulkner a broad grin.

Alex watched him stride away to where his dad was waiting. As he drove home, he was full of the morning's events. Although his team had been working hard, until now they'd only beaten teams who weren't as good as they were. But today they'd taken on the best team in the area and beaten them comfortably. And he'd made it possible. It was his first tangible achievement since his arrival at Woodchurch, and he was rightly proud of it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Back at the flat, Alex was at something of a loose end. He almost regretted having not acceded to Whitney's request to visit the flat. After the morning's excitement, an hour of uninhibited sex would have been perfect. But he'd fucked the lad the previous day, which left him with only one choice. He'd visit the town swimming pool for a couple of hours of much needed exercise interspersed with some surreptitious boy-watching.

He arrived at the pool at quarter to two. The male changing room was packed with boys getting ready for the upcoming play session. As he got changed, he sneaked a peek at two boys whom he judged to be around eleven, pulling on their swimming trunks. But within a couple of seconds their trunks were on and the show was over. It didn't matter. The real show would happen later.

Alex stuck to his normal routine, alternately swimming lengths and diving from the high board. The regular group of boys was there. He was pleased to see them, especially the scrawny lad. With hard, street-boy features and dark hair set against very pale skin, he didn't have any of Newton's elfin cuteness. But his long, slim legs, small bottom and disproportionately large cock were very alluring.

It was Alex's turn to dive. Moving to the end of the board, he composed himself, scanning the pool as he did so. Down at the shallow end, he saw Whitney and Newton, playing on a rubber mat. He smiled to himself. There was a good chance that he'd get to see Newton naked, as he had the last time they'd all been at the pool. He could hardly wait.

Finally, the whistle sounded and the lifeguard announced that the play session would end in ten minutes. After taking one more dive, Alex headed to the changing room. Following a quick shower, he'd just taken up his favoured position when boys began returning to the changing room.

After a couple of minutes, the boys from the diving boards took up their usual position and began to get changed. Alex was pleased to see that they were still as immodest as they'd been on his previous visits. As they stripped off their trunks, he had an excellent view of the scrawny boy's cock and the cute bottoms of two of his friends.

"Hello sir!" Newton chirruped, as he and Whitney appeared next to him. "We saw you dive. You're very good, aren't you?"

"Not too bad," Alex conceded. "Have you had a good time?"

"Oh yes, sir!" Newton answered. "It's been super, hasn't it Michael?"

Michael smiled in agreement. As the boys began to get dry, Alex put on his clothes, watching them as he did so. He noticed that Whitney was looking at the boys on the other side of the bench, ogling the scrawny lad's cock. Sitting down to put on his socks, he was just in time to see Newton take off his swimming trunks. He was captivated. The slender, elfin boy was beauty personified. His slim, uncut penis and small, tight bottom were absolute perfection.

Alex would have loved to have sex with him, thrusting his cock into the lad's rosebud entrance. Although he knew that there was no immediate prospect of him being able to do so, he wasn't going to give up the idea. Just because it wasn't going to happen right then didn't mean it might not happen sometime. The boy's friendship with the sex-obsessed Whitney might give him an opportunity, and if it did, he'd be ready to take it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex checked his watch. It was five to six. The past twenty-six hours had gone like a dream. It was time to make a call. He picked up the phone and dialled Gordon's number. It was answered almost immediately.

"Hi Gordon," he said.

"Alex!" Gordon responded. "Good to hear from you! So how have things been going?"

"Very well, thanks. Whitney loved sitting on my lap. So I asked him if he'd found a boy to have sex with. He said he hadn't, which I more or less knew. I told him that if he wanted, I could introduce him to a boy I was sure he'd like. He wanted to know how old the boy was and whether he was good looking, but as soon as I'd told him, he said yes."

"I take it he knows I'd be bringing the boy?"

"Oh yes. It didn't seem to bother him. There is one thing though. It'll have to be Sunday rather than Saturday."

"Oh, that'll be fine. What time do you want us there?"

"He gets here at three. Can you make it for ten past?"

"No problem at all. You'll remember that I'm Mr Smith, won't you? What name are you going to use?

"I'll be Mr White, if that's okay."

"Yes, that'll be fine. I assume you've told Whitney what we have in mind?"

"Oh, yes. He was a bit nervous, of course, but he'll be fine, especially if Maitland's as good looking as you say he is."

"Oh, he's very good looking. When I first had him two years ago he was a gorgeous little thing. You'd have loved him! So Whitney's still not interested in younger boys?"

"Not just yet, but I'm working on it. I asked him if he'd like to fuck Newton, the slim, really beautiful boy that he's friendly with. He said he might, if Newton wanted him to, so I'm sure he'll come round."

"Well, it sounds promising. As I told you, I've got this eleven-year old, Holdsworth. He'd suit you down to the ground. Anyway, we mustn't look too far ahead. Let's see how next Sunday goes."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Alex arrived at school and parked his car. As he made his way to the staffroom, Richard Needham, the head of Physical Education, was heading the other way.

"Your boys did very well on Saturday," Mr Needham said, with a warmth Alex hadn't heard from him before. "Northridge always produce good teams and their current crop of under-15s is one of the best, so to beat them the way we did is an outstanding result! Well done!"

"They're a good group," Alex said modestly. "They work hard and they listen."

"But they didn't do it on their own," the older man countered. "You have to take a great deal of the credit."

"Thanks," Alex acknowledged.

They went their separate ways. It was a nice compliment, Alex reflected as he collected his register, and unexpected, coming from the rather gruff sports master.

But the success of his football team was just a bonus. His real job was to teach mathematics, and despite all his efforts, cracks were starting to appear. In every one of his classes, there were boys who were not performing up to the expected standard. Some of them were struggling to cope. True to his word, he'd helped them as much as he could, but they still struggled. He hadn't expected that.

Then there were boys who were simply going through the motions. They did as little as they could get away with. Some, it seemed, were past-masters at it. He'd brought some of them back either at lunchtime or after school to repeat work that they hadn't done properly. He'd even given Saturday morning detentions to the worst offenders. In some cases, it had worked as he'd intended, but it others it had made no difference at all.

The worst problems were with 3-Blue. Three boys who clearly resented the extra work that he expected them to do had decided to rebel. They weren't the least able boys in the class, but they'd enjoyed the slack regime that they'd been allowed during the previous year and didn't like being told that it had to change.

Initially, he'd tried encouragement and exhortation, but to no effect. So he'd tried reasoning with them. That hadn't worked either. And keeping them in detention, he'd discovered, simply made them worse. The more he detained them, the more their resentment grew.

Teaching at a highly selective school like Woodchurch, these were problems he had not expected. In theory, every boy who had gained admission to the school should have been more than capable of doing what was expected. The reality, as he'd discovered, was rather different.

He'd also thought that as long as he was firm but fair, taught them well and offered help where it was needed, the boys would fall into line, and indeed most of them had. But there were a recalcitrant few who obstinately refused. Having tried everything he could think of, he did not know what to do next.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At morning break Alex headed to his head of department's classroom.

"Neil, may I have a word please?" he asked.

"Certainly," Neil Fleming said, smiling. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, for a start, I'm teaching some boys who just don't seem able to cope," he explained. "Surely any boy who's passed the exam to come here should be able to pass `O' level maths without too much trouble. But I've got a few that clearly won't. I've given them as much help as I can, but I'm not sure it's doing much good. As soon as we move onto a new topic they're struggling again."

"So how many are we talking about?"

"Two or three in every class, First Year to Fourth Year."

"That sounds about right. They'll be boys who only just scraped in. You were bound to get a few of those. In quite a few cases they'll have been at independent junior schools who cram them to pass the entrance exam. Some of them will have had private tuition on top of that. So they pass the exam, but when they get here, they're not up to it. Just keep doing what you're doing. You're doing a great job. I'm not expecting you to work miracles."

"Actually, I'm more worried about the boys that don't seem interested," Alex went on. "With the first and second years I can keep them in line as long as keep chivvying them along, but with some of the older ones, that just doesn't work. There's Jones in my Fourth Year class and three boys in 3-Blue. I've tried everything. It hasn't made the slightest difference."

"The problem with Jones is that the moment he leaves, he'll go to work for his father's central heating business. It doesn't matter whether he works at school or not. I notice you didn't mention Chandler."

"No, since half term he's settled down. I've no idea why. I'm giving him what help I can. As you can imagine, there are lots of gaps."

"Well, that's exactly what I'd want you to do. And as long as he keeps working, there's enough time for him to catch up. So who are these Third Year Boys?"

"Armstrong, Laws and Parker."

"Not a complete surprise. I don't think they were ever the most studious. Of course, last year they got away with murder. And they're getting to be big lads now. They don't like you telling them that it's got to stop. I'll have a word, just to make sure they know that you've got my full backing and the Head's full backing. It probably won't make any difference, but it'll be something to throw at the parents if they complain. I take it they're not actually disruptive?"

"No, they're not that brave. They know I'd have them caned if they disrupted the class."

"Fair enough."

"I'm not sure that I should keep putting them in detention though. It hasn't helped at all. It seems pointless."

"True, but you have to keep doing it, pour encourager les autres, as the French would put it. So be as firm as you like. We don't want other boys following their example. And remember, nobody wins them all. They're three out of thirty-two. You have to think of the other twenty-nine. If those three are going to throw their opportunities down the drain, so be it."

"Thanks."

Alex wandered back to his classroom still feeling somewhat disillusioned. He'd gone to Mr Fleming looking for answers. He'd got the man's support, and he was grateful for it, but his head of department didn't have any answers. Maybe there weren't any.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was Tuesday afternoon. Alex had just begun work with his fourth year class when the classroom door opened and Mr Cope entered. The boys immediately stood up in silence, as they always did when the Headmaster appeared in one of their classes.

"Sit down," Mr Cope said with his customary quiet firmness. He walked to the back of the room, taking a seat on the empty back row. "Carry on please, Mr Faulkner," he instructed.

Alex took a deep breath and continued from where he'd left off. Within a few minutes, he'd almost forgotten that the headmaster was there. It seemed that the boys had too. They were behaving just as they always did.

When the bell sounded, Alex issued final instructions before dismissing the class. Mr Cope walked up to his desk.

"After I received the report from Mr Fleming," he said, "I thought I ought to come and see for myself. I have to say that was a very good performance. Nobody would believe that you'd only just started teaching. You must prepare very well. And there was no dreary talk and chalk. You kept the boys involved all the way through."

"Thanks," Alex acknowledged.

"And I want you to know that the work you're doing with 3-Blue has not gone unnoticed," Mr Cope added. "That was a most unfortunate situation. I'm very grateful for the sterling efforts you're making to rectify matters."

"Thanks," Alex repeated. "It had to be done. And it's been a very useful experience, I've learned a lot."

"Well keep up the good work!" Mr Cope said brightly.

He made his way out. Alex was more relieved than anything, pleased to have negotiated the hurdle successfully. But all he'd done, he reflected, was to put on a good show. Beneath the surface there were problems that he had no idea how to solve.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Sunday afternoon finally arrived. Alex checked the time. It was ten to three. Gordon was due to arrive in twenty minutes. If things went well, he would be admitted to his mentor's circle of friends, which could open up a whole range of possibilities.

His only concern was that Whitney might take fright and not turn up. That would be a disaster. He sat on the sofa, waiting anxiously, but just before three o'clock, the doorbell rang. He hurried to answer it, and was relieved to find Whitney standing in front of him. The boy was dressed in his school uniform, just as he had requested.

"Would you like a drink?" Alex asked, ushering him inside. "They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Tea please," Michael answered.

Alex headed to the kitchen leaving Whitney sitting on the sofa. He returned a few minutes later with two large cups of hot tea.

"Today you must call me Mr White," Alex said, handing one cup to Whitney. "My friend is Mr Smith. You won't forget, will you?"

"No sir," Michael assured him.

In reality, he was taken aback. Mr White wasn't really Mr White, so it seemed likely that Mr Smith wasn't really Mr Smith either. He hadn't expected that.

Almost immediately the doorbell rang. As Alex left the room, Michael's heart was in his mouth, concerned that something bad might be about to happen. Moments later a boy appeared, followed by a man he judged to be around forty. His eyes lit up, his fears forgotten.

The boy was around five foot six, with hazel eyes and slightly wavy brown hair. Dressed in his school uniform, which included rather brief grey shorts and a black and red striped blazer, he was everything Michael had hoped for.

"You must be Whitney," the man said. "I'm Mr Smith and this is Maitland."

"Nice to meet you sir," Michael said smiling.

They spent the next few minutes drinking tea. The two boys eyed each other up but didn't speak. Mr Faulkner, or Mr White as he would have to call him, seemed to know Mr Smith very well, Michael observed, though he had no idea how they knew each other. And Mr Smith sounded nice, even if he was older than he'd expected.

For his part, Alex was disappointed. Good looking though he was, Maitland was tall for thirteen and past the stage when he'd have really fancied him.

"Okay," he said, putting down his cup. "Let's move into the bedroom. It's time these boys got to know each other."

Once in the bedroom, Mr Smith took the armchair, while Alex sat on the office chair by his desk. They watched intently as the two boys began to undress each other. Within seconds they were both naked. Maitland had a big cock, Alex noted, around five inches long and uncut, with just a small crop of dark brown pubes. But he was quite slim and the rest of his body was completely smooth. Though not Alex's ideal, he'd be a more than acceptable fuck.

Maitland and Whitney flopped onto the bed, their arms wrapped round each other, their cocks grinding together. Alex nodded to Mr Smith. Both men began to discard their clothes, their eyes riveted on the two boys as they kissed and fondled each other.

Michael was ecstatic. Maitland's warm, musky breath was driving him almost delirious. He'd waited for ages to find a boy to have sex with, and now that he had, it was even better than he could have imagined.

They moved effortlessly into a sixty-nine. Maitland's cock was smaller than Michael was used to, but that was good. He could suck it right down to the base, allowing the small shiny head to touch the back of his throat. And it seemed harder, almost bristling with pent-up energy. And to cap it all, Maitland was sucking him beautifully.

After little more than a minute, they both sensed that they were getting close. They snaked back around and snuggled up again.

"Mr Smith says you like it up your bum," Maitland whispered.

"Yeah!" Michael confirmed.

"Come on then!"

Alex took out the jar of Vaseline. Michael dipped his fingers into the sticky jelly and smeared it over Maitland's throbbing cock.

"Get on all fours," Maitland ordered.

Michael got into position, his feet hanging over the bottom of the bed, just as he did for his Uncle Jack. Maitland moved in behind him. Alex slid off his chair and onto the floor, lying with his head between Maitland's feet. He watched enraptured as the thirteen-year old's cock disappeared into Whitney's bum.

"Oh yeah!" Maitland growled in his husky treble voice.

"Don't touch his cock," Gordon instructed. "We'll deal with that later."

Setting to his task, the thirteen-year old fucked Whitney energetically, like the athlete he was. His cock thrust repeatedly over the younger boy's prostate. Once again, Michael was transported to another world. There was no pain at all. It was pure, undiluted pleasure.

"Oh fuck!" Maitland gasped. "I'm going to cum!"

He drove in one final time, his spunk spurting powerfully into Whitney's rectum. After a few seconds to regain his composure, he carefully withdrew.

"Wonderful!" Mr Smith congratulated.

"That was hot!" Alex agreed from his position on the floor.

"Come here," Mr Smith urged, beckoning Whitney to join him.

Michael got off the bed.

"Will you kneel down and suck me?" Mr Smith asked, turning his chair to give the boy better access.

Michael eyed him nervously. The man's cock was even bigger than Mr Faulkner's. But he couldn't refuse now. Getting down onto the floor, his mouth closed over Mr Smith's cock. He began to suck, but couldn't get more than halfway down. He hoped the man wouldn't try to make him take it all.

"That's excellent," Mr Smith assured him, gently ruffling his hair. "You can stop now. Will you sit on my lap please?"

As Michael got to his feet, Mr Smith turned his chair back to its previous position, facing the side of the bed. Michael knew what to do, positioning himself with his back to Mr Smith and his feet apart. As he lowered himself onto the man's lap, the head of Mr Smith's cock probed his anus.

"Down you go!" Mr Smith encouraged.

Michael took a deep breath and pushed down. He gasped as the man's cock entered him, stretching him further than anyone ever had. Mr Smith pressed down on his thighs, pushing him slowly down until the whole thing was inside him. Without waiting to be asked, he lifted his feet, placing them on the edge of the bed.

"Good boy!" Mr Smith whispered.

As Maitland sucked his cock, Alex kept his eyes on the action. He inhaled sharply as he got a perfect view of Whitney's anus stretched around Gordon's thick, seven-inch penis.

"Okay, that's enough," he instructed.

Maitland let him go.

"You know where this is going don't you?" Alex asked, stroking his rampant cock.

"Yes sir," Maitland confirmed.

"Okay then," Alex said, offering him the open jar of Vaseline.

As Maitland expertly coated his penis, Alex wondered how many cocks the boy had taken over the past two years. With Gordon, his various friends and several older boys, it was bound to have been quite a few.

"Right," he instructed. "Get on all fours and suck Whitney's cock."

Maitland didn't hesitate. It was what he'd expected to do. Over the previous twelve months he'd done it frequently. Alex moved in behind him. With one well-practised thrust, the boy was fully impaled.

"Excellent!" Gordon said. "Now you boys keep still. Let us do the work."

Immediately, he began to thrust his cock upwards into Whitney's bum. Michael placed his hands on Maitland's head as his penis pushed hard into the older boy's mouth. Alex quickly joined in the action. Maitland was tight, just as Gordon had promised. He fucked him relentlessly.

Michael scarcely knew where he was, the sensations the wildest he'd ever experienced.

"Oh! Oh! Ohh!" he squeaked.

He shook uncontrollably, his bum tightening around Mr Smith's invading cock. In the next instant his penis swelled and pulsed, jets of sticky boy-cum squirting onto Maitland's tongue.

"Oh, very good!" Gordon breathed, pressing down on Whitney's thighs. "Now take what I've got for you!"

A moment later, his spunk shot deep into the twelve-year old's bum. Alex was just seconds behind. He thrust in one last time. His cock jerked into action, depositing several volleys of cum in Maitland's rectum.

After a few seconds to bring his breathing under control, he gently withdrew. His spunk was trickling down Maitland's thighs. As the boy pulled back off Whitney's cock, Alex smeared the creamy fluid over his thighs and buttocks.

Very gingerly, Michael stood up. His bum was very sore. But to his surprise, he wasn't leaking, even though Mr Smith's cock was the biggest he'd taken. It seemed that Mr Smith didn't shoot as much spunk as Mr Faulkner did.

"You two boys had better go to the bathroom," Gordon instructed. "I hope you've both enjoyed yourselves because we certainly have."

Maitland followed Whitney towards the bathroom.

"Mr White shoots loads of spunk, doesn't he?" Maitland said. "I couldn't keep it in. That's never happened before. Does he make you leak like that?"

"Usually," Michael said casually.

"So when was the last time he fucked you?" Maitland asked.

"Wednesday," Michael told him.

"And he's not doing it with anyone else?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well that explains it," Maitland said. "Mr Smith fucks one of us every day. Let me go first, will you?" he continued, pushing past the younger boy to get to the toilet, "or I'll start leaking again."

He sat down. Mr Faulkner's spunk ran out into the bowl like a bad case of diarrhoea. He got to his feet and carefully wiped his bum.

"Fuck!" he cursed. "I'm going to be messy for hours."

"Yeah," Michael said as he and Maitland swapped places. "I always am after he's fucked me. Isn't Mr Smith a bit old?"

"I don't think so," Maitland countered. "And he's a brilliant choirmaster, one of the best there is. Everybody likes him. And he's not doing any harm. He only has sex with boys who like it."

"So you like him fucking you?"

"Yeah, of course. You like being fucked, don't you?"

"Yeah. But how does he know which boys will like it?"

"He just does. There are only six choristers in each year, so he knows us all really well. And he auditioned us all before we got a place at the school, so that probably has something to do with it. And he never touches anyone until they're in third year, so I guess by then he's worked out who'll want to do it."

"Mr White says you're at boarding school."

"Yes, this is my last year. I've been there since I was eight."

"Where will you go then?"

"Public school, that's like the senior boarding school. You've just started at grammar school haven't you?"

"Yeah."

"Mr White must have worked pretty fast."

"Not really. I was having sex before I went there."

"Oh, who was that with?"

"My uncle. He's twenty-six and we still do it. It's okay. Mr White knows about it. You said you had to do an audition before you went. I suppose Mr Smith rejects all the ugly kids."

"Mostly; we've got a couple, but they're such great singers, he couldn't really turn them down. Have you ever fucked another boy?"

"No, you're the first boy I've ever been with."

"You ought to try it. Shooting your spunk into another boy's bum is the best feeling there is, especially if he's really nice looking."

"You've done it before then?"

"Yeah. I've been doing it for about a year. There was this younger boy at school. Mr Smith asked me to take his cherry."

"Doesn't he do that himself?"

"No. It's because he's so big. He's worried it'll hurt too much if the boy hasn't taken it before."

"So he didn't take your cherry either?"

"No. He got one of the older boys to do it. It's what he always does."

"I bet it still hurt the first time Mr Smith did it."

"Yeah, but it wasn't that bad. I sort of knew what to expect."

"So how many boys have you fucked?

"Five, including you, one at school, and four others. But Mr Smith's working on this third year boy. He's ten, the same as I was when he started on me. Anyway, when he's got him ready, he'll probably ask me to take his cherry."

"Oh, right," Michael said absently, finding it hard to take in what Maitland had told him. It seemed like another world.

Maitland stood in front of the basin and washed his cock.

"Shit!" he exhaled. "All this sex talk's got me horny again. Do you want to suck me off?"

"You can fuck me again if you want."

"No thanks! I've just washed my dick. And it's too sensitive from fucking you before."

"Okay then."

Maitland stood in front of the younger boy, who was still sitting on the toilet. Michael didn't hesitate, closing his lips around Maitland's cock. He sucked it eagerly, his head twisting this way and that.

"Oh yes!" Maitland whispered, running his fingers through Whitney's hair. "That's wonderful. Please don't stop!"

Although Michael's mouth was beginning to ache, he had no intention of stopping.

"Oh!" Maitland gasped, grabbing the younger boy's head. "I'm going to cum!"

A moment later his cock jerked into action, his tangy spunk spurting into Whitney's mouth. Michael licked and slurped, making sure he swallowed every drop. Finally, he eased away.

"Wow!" Maitland said, a broad grin on his face. "That was a super blow-job! Did your uncle teach you how to do that?"

Michael just grinned, telling Maitland everything he needed to know.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"That was wonderful," Alex commented as he and Gordon pulled on their clothes.

"It was excellent," Gordon responded. "Whitney's even nicer than I expected. He's a beautiful fuck. You're very lucky to have found someone like him."

"Yes, I know," Alex acknowledged.

"It's a shame he's growing so quickly," Gordon continued. "By this time next year he'll be as tall as Maitland is."

"Yeah," Alex agreed. "I'm hoping I'll have found someone else by then. I'm afraid Maitland's a bit too well developed for my taste. I loved watching him fuck Whitney though."

"I hope you can get Whitney into the idea of fucking a younger boy. Holdsworth would be right up your street. I seduced him last year. He loves it. Actually, I've started work on another boy, one of our ten-year olds, but it'll be some time before he's ready to be fucked."

"Sounds wonderful," Alex said, hardly able to conceal his envy.

"I like to have a boy in each of the top three years," Gordon told him. "I usually manage it."

The bedroom door opened and the two boys appeared.

"You took your time," Alex commented. "You'd better get dressed."

"We were talking," Maitland said nonchalantly, putting on his underpants.

Alex didn't believe him. At the very least they'd been messing about. But he let it pass. He'd get the real story later.