PZA: Hartswood Priory - Teddy's Story 22

"You weren't kidding, sir," I said admiringly over the sound of the running water in the shower. Mr Thompson had decided to join me for a quick rinse after I sat on the loo. "You do have a man's prick!" Even flaccid it looked huge to me, it hung from his middle like an elephant's trunk. That was in my bum just ten minutes ago?

"You have nothing to be ashamed of either, although your cock may simply appear bigger from the lack of any hair down there."

"Will you teach me how to shave?" I asked and shut off the water. Mr Thompson's observation combined with me having seen his razor when I washed my hands after using the toilet prompted the idea. It's perfect! No-one will ever see the colour of my pubic hair if I shave it off.

"You won't be needing to shave for a long time to come, Teddy. You're blonde like me and I didn't start shaving until I was nineteen."

"Ah, no sir, I'm not blonde, I'm ginger! My hair down there, it's coming out orange! I pulled out four hairs like three weeks ago and yesterday morning before leaving home I yanked out seven! If it keeps up like this, then a couple months from now I won't have enough time in the mornings to get rid of… Why're you laughing, sir?"

"I just had a vision of you plucking out one of your pubic hairs and immediately two new hairs popped out to replace it. Sorry, I'm not laughing at you… Anyway, shaving your pubes? If you start doing that, you'll have to do it at least twice every week, or you'll grow stubble. Trust me, there's nothing worse than a prickly chin and I can only assume that having a prickly groin would be pure agony. It'd feel like your undies were always full of sand."

"Then what can I do? I don't want orange pubic hair. James said it will look like I've started a fire down there."

"Some things you simply must accept for what they are. I didn't want to end up as short as I became, but I couldn't make my legs grow longer, just like you can't change the colour of your body hair. You can't stop your body hair from growing either, so you may as well accept that you'll end up with a nice crop of ginger hair down there."

"But sir! The other kids will laugh at me for having carrot-coloured pubic hair!"

"If they do, just tell them like it is: you never asked for your hair to be the colour it is. If that doesn't stop them, let me or Mr Cooper know. Besides, I think you would hear more for not having any pubic hair at all, rather than what colour it is."

"Not yet, but it probably won't be long before you're sprouting hair in places you'd never imagine, including your bum. Now, I truly resent hairy bum holes, so if you won't mind I'll be waxing yours from time to time."

"Yeah, that's fine with me," I agreed. And when you do, I'll have you wax my front too!

I woke the next morning from Mr Thompson carefully pulling his arm out from under me, and only then did I notice the ringing from the alarm clock on the dresser.

"Ughh!" I groaned, wrapping the pillow around my head in a desperate attempt of muting out the sound so that I could go back to sleep. I didn't have any idea of what time it was, only that it was much too soon to get up, and that's when I felt a short stinging pain from my bum.

"Ow!" I squealed like a piglet and dramatically rubbed the spot where Mr Thompson had lightly slapped me.

"Wake up," he said, far too brightly for the time of day and turned off the alarm. "'Let go of your cocks and put on your socks', as my old house master used to say. The sun's up and it's a perfect morning for a run."

"For a run, sir?" I asked and sat up. "I'm not interested in running," I objected.

Certainly not now! It's only… Half past Five? I groaned again and let myself fall back down on the bed. I could've been on holidays still…

Eventually, I found myself running in front of Mr Thompson; he told me to start out at a pace I felt comfortable with, this turned out to be only slightly faster than walking speed. We jogged along the outside border of the school premises, following a woodland path with a surface varying between soft, soggy and wet.

"We should get you a pair of running shoes," I heard him suggest from behind. "Then we could run on the road. It wouldn't be nearly as demanding for you as this is."

"That would only be a waste of money, sir. I'm so not a runner," I replied, the words coming out in short bursts between my heavy breathing.

Despite my statement, Mr Thompson made me run for more than a mile [c. 1.6 km] that morning before he took pity on me and we went to Matron's supply room to pick out some more clothes for me.

"How do you feel now?" He asked when we were sat at the very small table in his equally as small kitchen eating breakfast.

"Do you want to go back to bed after this?" He asked and I could tell from his tone of voice that he didn't mean for us going back to sleep.

"Like last night?" I asked warily, my bum hole still felt battered. It was nice once I got used to his huge prick though, I remembered and the recollection quickly made my prick firm up in my rugby shorts; I had decided against changing into the school uniform until after I showered; the run had made me sweat like a pig.

"Yes. Only we can make it last for much longer, the teacher's meeting isn't until one o'clock."

"Okay," I decided and ate the rest of the cereal as quickly as possible and finished the last of my milk.

"I see that," Mr Thompson said and cupped my stiff prick through the shorts just as I was about to walk past him. "You are a big lad, Teddy."

"Is mine bigger than Martin's, sir?" I asked and passively allowed him to feel me up while I held onto my plate and glass.

"Most definitely. Stanley will appreciate this," he said, brushing his fingers up against my prick one last time, leaving it harder than before.

"I sure hope so, he hasn't seen it yet. I hope he won't think it's too big for his bum," I voiced one of my concerns regarding the first time I'd be bumming Stanley, while I put the plate and glass in the sink, and turned to face Mr Thompson.

"If you make him horny enough he won't care what size cock you have. Right, enough talking about boys who aren't present, I'd rather focus on the one who is. Come back here please, stand in front of me."

"Sir? Aren't we doing it in the bedroom?" I asked as I moved to where he wanted me.

"We are, I just want to see your cock properly," he explained and pulled down my shorts, leaving the waistband sitting around the top of my thighs. "It must be a good five and a half inches [c. 14 cm]?"

"That's impressive," he said and pulled my foreskin back. "How old were you when it started growing?"

"You may end up with a cock even bigger than mine," he said and sucked a large part of my prick into his mouth.

"Ooh, sir!" I moaned and closed my eyes. I could tell it certainly wasn't the first time Mr Thompson had given head. "I hope not… No-one would allow me to bum them if my prick got that big…

"Oo-ouw!" I half-moaned, half-winced when I felt Mr Thompson's finger push itself into my bum hole.

"You think? You bummed me with your humongous prick for at least an hour last night…"

"Can… May I see him now, sir? Your prick?" I asked as I sat down on the side of the bed.

"Don't worry about that, Teddy. I don't want to cum in your mouth anyway, I want to do that deep in your bum and as we established last night my cock fits like a glove back there."

"True, sir," I concurred. I enjoy sticking my prick into a nice tight bum too. Almost as much as I love being bummed myself.

Mr Thompson positioned himself within easy reach and I undid his trousers. Already his cock was like a steel baton, straining hard against the fabric and when I pulled his trousers down along with his underwear, it bounced out proudly.

"Cor! Holy crap, sir! If I had seen your prick before you stuffed him in my bum I wouldn't have let you do it. He really is humongous!"

Now I knew the exact reason for why my bum felt like someone had parked a car in it; while Mr Thompson's prick had seemed very large in the shower, it had been rather flaccid then. Now it was impossibly hard and easily 7.5 inches [c. 19 cm] long and almost too fat for my thumb and forefinger to encompass. How the hell did he manage getting this beast fully inside my bum in such little time without ripping me open?

"I know it's a bit intimidating, but I've yet to be with anyone, boy or woman, who couldn't take it. Bum holes stretch a lot, much more than you'd think is possible."

"You've bummed women, sir?" I asked. The concept was alien to me; a boy having anal sex with another boy made a whole lot more sense seeing as that was the only way of replicating the more natural way of boys having sex with girls.

"You put this in her vagina?" I asked, doubting the truth in his statement while I gently caressed the very large, warm and firm object in question.

"I sure hope not! No, Teddy, I wore a rubber, a condom. It kept my sperm from going where it might have made her pregnant."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. I kept at bay my curiosity regarding human reproduction, rather the prevention thereof; Mr Thompson's prick was as hard as it would ever get and throbbing, and I was feeling pretty randy myself.

I moved my head closer to Mr Thompson's middle and quickly kissed the end of his prick before I opened my mouth and sucked in the head of it. It was all that would fit inside my mouth without triggering my gag reflex; even so it didn't feel very comfortable at all as I had to splay my mouth wide open to keep my teeth from scratching him. Regrettably I had to stop after only half a minute had passed.

"You did very nicely. Try licking it under the head… Yes, lick the string just like that, now move your mouth closer, lock your lips around my cock head and suck in your cheeks while you keep licking."

My head was tilted sideways while I did my very best to please Mr Thompson. It's the least I can do for him with all he's done for me, I thought. I owe him so much!

While Mr Thompson had been demanding all through my first year at school, and had persistently required I'd do my very best when in class and while studying, he had never asked me to do anything for him, all of that had been for me. That he had never asked for anything in return only made me so much more determined to make him feel good now.

He's huge, but I must do it, I told myself and moved my head so I could suck all of Mr Thompson's prick head into my mouth again, and this time I didn't stop at that; just when I felt my gag reflex kick in I forced myself onwards, swallowing heftily at the same time.

"Ngghh!" Mr Thompson gasped and I felt his cock jolt as it went much further into my mouth than before.

I had successfully done this very thing with David on more than one occasion, and later with Marcus, and then I had been able to suppress my gag reflex for just a little while longer with every attempt as I sucked more of their pricks into my throat.

Now, though, it felt as if I were going to be seriously sick and I had to move my mouth off his prick while I coughed and wheezed, fighting hard to keep my breakfast from coming back up.

"Damn, Teddy. What're you trying to do? You can't deep-throat my cock, no-one can," Mr Thompson exclaimed. "It's too thick to fit inside your oesophagus."

"I only wanted to make it as good for you as possible, sir," I explained when the sickening heaves stopped. "You liked it, didn't you?"

"'Course I liked it, you nearly made me cum! But I don't want you hurting yourself trying to make me feel good."

I let myself fall backwards and put a pillow under my head so I could watch everything he'd do to me. He knelt in front of me, spread my knees wide and dived in over my prick.

"Aw, sir! It isn't fair," I objected when I realized he had all of my prick in his mouth. "You shouldn't be doing that when I can't do it to you."

He didn't bother replying, only sucked harder and more aggressively, then I felt his fingers around my nut sack. He applied a gentle pressure and massaged my nuts, while he continued to suck me off.

Rather than simply lie there on the bed with my legs dangling over the side of it and letting Mr Thompson do whatever he wanted, I decided to take a more active part and I placed the soles of my feet right on the edge of the mattress. This allowed me to thrust my hips upwards and that's exactly what I did, I happily started fucking my prick in and out of his mouth.

After ten thrusts or so, I sensed one Mr Thompson's fingers seek out my bum hole. While I kept moving my hips up and down, he used my momentum to work his finger inside of my bum, making me gasp from the burning sensation.

His finger was fully inside of me and rubbing at my prostate before I had a chance for lecturing him, and his actions were speeding me towards climax. "Orh! Nnnngh…! Sir, I'm gonna… You're… Sir? Nnnggghhh…"

Everything was happening much too quickly for me, the stimulation was far too great and I bucked my hips in an attempt of getting my prick out of his mouth or his finger out of my bum. Frantically, I grabbed at his hair in a last desperate attempt to pry his sucking mouth away from my prick before I'd climax.

It was all in vain, I couldn't do anything to stop him or the climax I was rushed towards and I froze in place when he drove me up over the peak; I only managed to gasp in time with the powerful contractions of my abdomen muscles.

Mr Thompson kept stimulating me all the way through an orgasm that seemed like it would never end. His fingers kept massaging my nuts with a fair amount of pressure, he sucked harder on my prick while the tip of his tongue ran circles around the bared head, and his finger in my bum kept rubbing rhythmically and forcefully against my prostate.

Will he never stop? I wondered after the twelfth contraction of my middle. Orhh! I'm gonna die!

It felt as if I was still shooting out sperm, but the sensation was turning from the delightful, orgasmic feelings into discomfort. Still, Mr Thompson kept doing what he could to prolong my orgasm for another thirty seconds after the final contraction.

My chest kept heaving gasps of air in and out of my lungs when he finally released my prick from the confines of his mouth and moved his finger from my prostate. He kept his finger firmly lodged in my bum hole as he straightened out his back and sat up straight.

"Ah, the sweet taste of boy cum," he said and smacked his lips. "If only there was more of it."

"If this is how you're going to make me feel good from now on, sir, I think I'd rather pick up wanking," I said and let my feet fall from the bed. I felt absolutely worn out and about ready for a lengthy nap.

"Well, Teddy. I wouldn't mind watching you pull on your cock from time to time, but you must admit it's a lot more fun like this," he mused and climbed into bed next to me without removing his finger from my bum.

"It was nice," I confessed. "But you made me cum much too soon! My heart's still pumping like crazy," I voiced my observation. "It's like when you made me sprint earlier."

"The way your body feels now, that's almost the exact same feeling you'll get after a good run."

"Oh? Well, I think I like this better, sir, least this doesn't make my legs sore. They're still sore from the run."

"A little tender too. If you can wait for a couple of minutes and use lots of lube, you can stick him in."

"My cock will just push all of the lube right out of your bum when I push it in deep the first time, but I'll make you extra wet and squishy," he promised and smiled at me.

"Can we do it like this? With me on my back?" I asked five minutes later and without waiting for an answer I pulled my legs back up and didn't stop until my feet were hovering over my shoulders.

While I recovered, Mr Thompson had been pushing KY jelly into my bum and now I felt decidedly wet and ready for his fingers to be replaced by his stone hard prick; I'd kept it nice and hard for him by lazily wanking and sucking on the very end of it.

"You can't complain about being too dry now, I've never used this much lube with anyone," he told me. "You've got about a quarter of a tube in your bum."

So, that's why it's seeping out of me now, I deduced. "Rather too much than not enough."

"If I were to push any more inside of you, you'd be able to taste it!" He chuckled and moved into position.

I was about to make a witty remark about being able to taste his prick when I happened to look at the very thing quickly closing in on my bum hole. My prick was again as hard as his, but that's where all similarities ended; his prick head was bigger than my nut sack and I couldn't help but feel the pangs of worry as I felt it nuzzling up against my hole.

All of it was in me last night and it felt wicked after a while, I reminded myself, yet it seemed impossible now and reflexively my hole clamped up like a clam closing its shell. Deon thought my prick was large! He'd bloody pass out if he ever found himself about to be bummed by Mr Thompson's beast!

Unfortunately, it wasn't Deon's arse that were about to be split in two by Mr Thompson, it was mine; he rearranged his legs, shuffling closer to me and looked me in the eyes.

"Push down hard now," he gently told me and rose up on his knees, holding his prick in one hand and pushing back one of my thighs with the other. "Just like you did so well last night."

"Gaaarrrrh!" I groaned, voicing the effort of willing my hole into a shape in which Mr Thompson's prick head would fit; lying on my back made the procedure more exhausting, or so it seemed.

"Excellent!" Mr Thompson motivated when I relaxed. "Do that one more time, for just a fraction longer."

"Is it going in at all?" I wondered aloud and tried to see for myself; to me it seemed like my struggles weren't doing anything worthwhile. My prick's gone all soft, I noted, but couldn't tell if we were making any progress further below.

I pushed down again and strained as if I had been constipated for a week, which briefly brought back a memory of James suggesting he'd go get his mum when I asked him if he could show me how to administer an enema. My bum hasn't been as clean as it was after that, I thought and suddenly worried if my continuous attempts of opening up my bum hole for Mr Thompson's oversized prick would trigger a bowel movement.

I went this morning before he made me run until I nearly threw up from it, so we should be in the clear now, I decided and bore down again, harder than before.

"That's it, Teddy! Well done," he enthused when his prick head finally entered my body. "You can relax now."

Only I couldn't relax. He hadn't stopped pushing; though he had slowed down considerably, his prick was still moving further inside of my bum and the feelings this generated made me gasp.

"You weren't lying when you said you love being bummed, you naughty boy." He pushed harder, driving in his prick faster.

It took me a few seconds to realize my prick was responding to the feelings in my bum, once again it was growing hard; a state that had seemed more normal than otherwise all summer long, likely caused by my unwillingness for masturbating. I had yet to wank my prick until climax, not because I was overtly religious or believed I'd grow hair on my palm or go blind from the activity. No, I simply wanted to have sex with other males and not take care of business myself.

"Orrhh, sir! I do like it, but… Oww… It's gonna take me ages… To get used to… Used to your prick going in, urghhh!"

"It'll get easier over time," he said soothingly. "Though I hope your bum will always remain as tight as it is now."

I hope it won't! I told myself when Mr Thompson pushed the last bit of his prick into my bum. If so, it'll always feel horrible when he sticks it in!

Alas, the discomfort was slowly abating, now that I knew I had all of him inside of me. It's only going to get better from now.

It did get better, lots better, right up until we had to stop for lunch and a quick shower before we left Mr Thompson's flat so he could attend the teacher's meeting.

"The meeting is scheduled to end at half past four," Mr Thompson explained as we walked towards the main building of the school. "But it may take a little while longer, now that I must inform the others of your wish for doing much better than we first planned for."

"Oh, don't be. I know it was mostly your father's idea, not yours. I'm fairly certain that Mr Halford will want a word with you after the meeting. Please sit in the corridor outside the refectory at half four and wait there until I come for you."

"Well, he might not want to speak to you at all, so try not to worry too much about it until we know for certain," Mr Thompson reassured.

"Oh," he added. "He'll likely ask if you think I'm treating you well and feeding you properly, and so on. If he should ask where you've slept tonight, please do tell him you've slept in your dorm. Don't mention that you've been to my flat."

"Yeah, I know. Eh, there's something I've been thinking of, sir. Remember when Mr Halford asked you if I could become a new Martin?"

"Heh, no, I don't think he meant it like that. Well, I hope not, though he does know a lot of the stuff going on around school. No, I think he wanted to know if you'd be as hardworking as Martin was. That's how I perceived his question."

"Okay," I accepted his explanation, but still I wasn't fully convinced. The way that Mr Halford asked and then how Mr Thompson answered… No, it had to mean more than whether I'd study as hard as Martin or not.

"This is where we part ways, Teddy. Please don't leave the school premises and I'll see you at half four or closely thereafter."

Chapter 23
Electronics and maths

I never slept at all, though I did lie on my back in my bed under the covers for a few minutes before I sloppily remade the bed.

There, now it's perfect. If anyone sees it they'll think I've slept here all night long. So, Pythagoras, you old wanker, let's see if I can't figure out what the hell you were on about all those years ago.

I didn't spend all of the three and a half hours studying Pythagoras until I went to sit on the bench in the corridor outside the refectory; it was far too exhausting for me to do more than six different sized triangles and the last one I made up ended in a formula that took a lot more processing power than my brain was capable of at the time.

How do I find the square root of thirty four? It isn't five, 'cause five times five is only twenty five. And it isn't six either, 'cause that's thirty six. It must be something in between, closer to six than five, but I wasn't in the mood to for narrowing it down any further than that.

My thoughts kept drifting to the sit-down I'd most likely have with Mr Halford after the teacher's meeting, and my imagination made the scenarios continually worse for every time I thought about what would happen.

I'm going to get kicked out of school even before the year starts, was a recurring thought. I felt certain Mr Halford would ask me how Mr Thompson's huge prick felt in my bum, if he had ripped me open, and whether I had screamed from the pain or moaned with pleasure. Regardless of my answer, he'll tell me to pack up my things and leave. He won't let me ring my parents, I'll have to carry Dad's old trunk on my back and somehow find my own way home.

I grew ever more nervous and kept glancing at my wristwatch every passing minute until I finally couldn't stand sitting at my desk any more.

I had to move and I soon found myself walking outside in the sunshine. The school buildings looked exactly like I remembered them from before the summer holidays, but it was strange walking around the school all on my own. My mind was playing tricks with me and I kept seeing or hearing my school mates, even those who I knew would never return to Hartswood again.

Somehow, my walk ended up with me sitting on one of the benches at the side of the empty playing field and suddenly I realized I was sat in pretty much the same location where Deon had first taken me to watch a game of rugby. I closed my eyes and suddenly I heard the sounds from that very day, the hushed murmurs from the crowd when Paz placed the ball on the ground; then the explosion of cheers as we all watched the impossible happen.

"It's good up here," I heard Deon's voice in my head, as clearly and brightly as when he had stated that the first time he had shown me up to the attic. My thoughts drifted again, now I was back in the trunk store room with Paz, Toby and horny Gavin. Then in bed with first Marcus, then James. And finally, sitting in the small forest with Stanley on my lap, kissing his sweet lips.

Man! That was one wild year, once it got underway anyway, I concluded and wondered if the upcoming year would be just as exciting. In a way it already was, I had had sex with Mr Thompson twice in as many days and I was certain we'd be having more sex before the end of the week. No, we'll be having sex again tonight, before going to sleep. Well, if Mr Halford doesn't kick me out.

I hefted a sigh and looked at my watch; it was time to go find out if the deputy head wanted to speak to me and if so, what he'd like to know. At least Mr. Thompson will be there with me.

"Welcome back, Teddy," Mr Halford said as he sat in his chair behind his desk; contrary to what I had assumed, we were very much alone in his office.

Mr Thompson had excused himself explaining how he must go prepare dinner or it would be much too late before he could have it ready for us. The teacher's meeting had taken almost an hour longer than anticipated, which had done nothing for calming my nerves.

"Thank you, sir, I'm happy to be here," I politely and almost truthfully replied. I was happy to be back at school, I just wasn't very happy for being in Mr Halford's office.

"Mr Thompson brought some surprising news to the table regarding your father's wish for you ending up in the better half of the senior students this year?"

"As Mr Thompson explained to you, something like that would require lots of work, not just from you but from all of your teachers too. So before I start putting everything in motion, I need to know if you genuinely wish to end up in the better half of upper fourth. Is this something you want to do for yourself or are you simply trying to please your father?"

"Never mind your father for now. A parent always wants for his or her child to succeed in life, but their criteria for success may be vastly different from what their child wants or is capable of achieving. I want to know what success means to you, not your father."

"I… Sir, can I think for a minute? I've never thought much about that before."

"Sure, but don't take too long… Actually, I want you to think aloud, please. Share your thoughts with me, your dreams for your future."

"Eh, okay, sir, if you want me to… Let's see, uh I know I don't want to end up working in a bank, and I don't want to be a scientist working in a clean environment only able to see what I'm working with through a microscope… I'd like to do something with computers I guess, I've always liked them… I'm…"

"What do you like about computers?" Mr Halford asked and interrupted my train of thoughts.

"That they're able to ease our lives," I said without having to think. "Like they can find the answer to all of our questions."

"Oh? Well, I only know little of computers, but I doubt a computer could tell you the meaning of life; why are we here and what should we do in the short time that we're alive? Anyhow, that's a question for another time. Do you want to work with computers after you've finished school?"

"Yes, I guess so, sir. I've read a lot about them and I used one at the science museum when we went to London… Well, it was antiquated of course. But, yes, that's what I'd like to do, now that I think about it."

"As far as I know, you'll need an immense conception of mathematics working with computers. It probably wouldn't hurt if you knew a lot about electronics too."

"I've a soldering iron, sir. I already know a lot about electronics for someone my age," I stated with a touch of pride in my voice, before I carried on, more subdued, "But, maths…? I'm struggling with that."

"Mr Thompson seemed quite impressed of how quickly you gained knowledge last year, and rightly so. Well, Teddy. Computers?"

"Right, I'll ring some of my old chums from university and find out exactly what you'll need in order to become a computer engineer, which school would be best, and all that. Then, we'll custom-design a curriculum for you with only the strictly necessary subjects. It will be easier for you achieving your goal this way, but make no mistake, it will not be easy at all."

"Thank you, sir. Eh, if you don't mind me asking, why would you do all that for someone like me?"

"Well, before I asked Mr Thompson to send you in, I reread the reports from the primary and high schools you attended before coming here. I was appalled with the much too obvious indifference shown by those responsible for your early learning.

"Obviously, the easy way out for this school would be to simply pass you on to someone else and make you their headache, so we could focus entirely on the students who have proven themselves to be well-educated and almost certain to make it to the very top of their chosen professions. Many other schools would've done that and most happily too, but Hartswood Priory just isn't like most other schools.

"The present staff, all of us, Mr Chambers and the governors included, we all strive for the same thing which is making sure the boys who attend this school will leave it as responsible young adults able to make the absolute best from their potential.

"You're not at that point yet, Teddy. You have lots of potential to unleash before you're ready to move on. You knew this already, didn't you? Isn't that why you wanted another chance?"

"Yes, sir," I agreed and sighed, realizing that it would take a whole lot of hard work unleashing any unknown potential I might have in maths.

"Cheer up, we'll work hard to help you get there. Of course, if it is what you want, and not simply what your father wants for you. If it's the latter, I think it would better if I talk to him and…"

"It is what I want. Honestly sir, I wish to do better. I'm tired of always being at the bottom in everything I do."

"Well, you may have to get used to that for a time to come, as we have no choice but moving you into the upper classes if you're to end up where you want to be by the end of the year. It will be a lot more challenging and your marks will inevitably suffer from it, at least for a time."

"Good. I'll find out which subjects you'll need, then let you know what classes you'll be in this year."

"Mr Thompson should still be in the kitchen, why don't you join him? I'm sure he'd appreciate a little help preparing dinner for you and him."

The school's kitchen was a place I hadn't been before, normally all I had had to do when I was hungry was entering the refectory and pick up a tray, then get in line and wait for food to be dished out by the kind kitchen staff; then find a place to sit and eat quietly, before returning the tray to the staff.

However, there was no kitchen staff in the refectory now, no stacks of trays; no tasty food waiting to be served. The only signs of the refectory having been used by the teachers were the left behind tea mugs and thermos sitting on one of the tables.

The door to the kitchen was ajar; I heard sounds from back there and I carefully crossed the line on the floor indicating the area that was strictly forbidden for us students to enter. I kept my hands close to my sides afraid of touching anything while I approached the door to the kitchen.

"Ow!" I heard a pained outburst, immediately followed by a loud clatter, just as I pushed the door fully open. The unexpected loud noises almost made me do a turnabout and run from the normally restricted area.

"Fuck! Damn, if it doesn't hurt like a son of a bitch!" Mr Thompson profusely swore, and I guardedly stuck my head in through the door opening in an attempt to see what went on in the kitchen without being seen myself.

Spilled food of some sort and a large cast-iron skillet lay in front of the largest gas-powered stove I had ever seen, it had eight flames; though only one was on now and Mr Thompson reached over turning it off. He looked at his hand, then the mess on the floor and finally he noticed me observing him.

"Uh, what do you think of sandwiches for dinner?" He asked and I had a quick look at what lay on the floor; it was burnt black beyond recognition.

"If the choice is between sandwiches and eh… that, sir, then I'd rather have sandwiches, please."

"Excellent choice. May I recommend a large glass of water to go with that, young Master Larsen?"

"If you can vouch for the vintage being a good one, then by all means," I agreed, playing along while pretending I couldn't see the mess on the floor. I'm glad he dropped it on the floor, I'm not sure I'd be able to stomach eating whatever it's supposed to be.

"Quick word of advice, Teddy, always use a potholder when trying to move a hot frying pan off the flame."

"You're out of luck. I can't cook, I only know not to touch hot stuff with my bare hands."

"See? You already know more than me when it comes to cooking," Mr Thompson winked and went to fetch a dustpan.

"I really don't mind sandwiches for supper, sir," I said before taking a big bite out of the third and last on my plate. "It makes for easy clean up after."

"That's right, but they aren't very filling. So, what did Mr Halford have to say?"

"He asked if I really wanted to go through another year full of agony. And we found out what I want to work with when I finish school… Computers, even if it means having to learn lots of maths."

"It's simply a matter of mastering the key concepts. You have an impressive memory, Teddy, use it. Practice maths every time you can," he told me, not for the first time.

"Mr Halford said that maybe I'll only have to do some subjects rather than all of them. That I'd follow a custom-made curriculum so that I can more easily end up as a computer engineer."

"That makes sense. I'm sure you wouldn't need to know a whole lot of Latin, for instance, for programming a computer."

"Though I know how much you hate sports and physical exercise, I think that's another thing you'll simply have to accept you must do. I doubt Mr Halford will excuse you from the sports and games classes, it's a large part of socializing. Apart from that, I want for you to remain slim and fit, I won't allow you neglecting your body."

"That's okay, sir. I wouldn't want to end up all floppy and slow like Timothy anyway. He had stretchmarks on his fat thighs and stomach!"

"I also believe that staying in shape is important for learning. Whether you like it or not, your body was designed for moving. When you exercise, your body will feel good, and when your body is happy you'll be able to focus more on learning."

"Will you make me feel good and happy tonight, sir?" I asked after making certain we were still alone in the refectory.

"You bet I will. Only, I can't do so in the flat. Mr Chandler has regrettably decided to remain at school this week rather than commuting between here and home."

"Oh! That kind of sucks…" I stated, while my brain worked overtime to find a solution to the problem. Oh, I know! It's better than Matron's counter anyway…

"Eh, I know a quiet place we could use without anyone seeing or hearing us. Only, you'd have to keep it secret and you can't ever go there after the other kids return to school. We're only meant to go there when the place is ours to use, we have a time table that says when someone can use it. That way, no-one disturbs anyone while they are, eh, in the middle of something."

"I understand. That's an excellent system, actually. Does everyone respect the rules?"

"Yeah, if someone didn't, he'd have to answer to all of the older friends and most of them are on the rugby team or the cricket team… Uh, they were last year, I don't know who'll be on the list this year. Anyway, I've never been disturbed while I was there with Deon. There are other places like that, only I don't know all of them."

"You did it with Martin in the store room? And you thought I was reckless!" I said, trying very hard to sound appalled. Man! I don't care what Mr Thompson says, Martin was bloody lucky!

"No, you aren't perfect," I agreed and smiled impishly. "Your prick is too darn big!"

"I tried to warn you when you asked if you could be my boy. So, where is this special place of yours?"

Mr Thompson chuckled quietly. "The ingenuity of horny boys trapped in boarding school never stops amazing me even though I was one not so long ago. If only they were as enthusiastic in class… Well, let's go clean this mess up, then you can show me the old attic, if you want to?"

"There's a profound lack of furniture up here," Mr Thompson stated after he had a quick look around the attic. "No bed, no table, no chairs. Not even an old bare mattress, just this old scruffy…"

"Gotta make do with what you have," I said and shrugged my shoulders. "Isn't that what you preach all the time?"

"Sometimes you do, sir. Anyway, this isn't bad at all compared to the other places I know. Least there's a carpet on the floor here…"

"Even the maths store room is better than this," he stated and shook his head. "I may be able to find something to make it more comforta…"

"Mr Halford or the caretaker would only get suspicious if we started decorating. It's better if it looks like no-one ever comes up here."

"Leave that with me. I may have the perfect solution that'll work for both of us."

"Eh… I'm not the only one with access, everyone can come up here, the door doesn't lock…"

"Yes, I realize that, but that's only for the better. What I have in mind will help you gain respect from the other, hmm, users of this place."

"You'll see," Mr Thompson said, using one of my least favourite expressions; I hated when people held me in suspense for longer than my curiosity could cope with, anything longer than five minutes felt absolutely unbearable to me.

Still, Mr Thompson was my master and, while I wasn't exactly his slave, I was his student; and I accepted that whatever he was planning would have the promised outcome. Instead of starting an argument I'd likely never win, I simply unzipped my shorts.

I nodded affirmatively and undid the button. "I've done it with Deon any number of times up here. It's perfectly fine," I said and pulled my shorts and underpants down at the same time.

"This brings back memories." Mr Thompson unzipped his fly and rather than taking off his trousers he simply pulled his prick out of the fly. "We'll have to do it standing up, I can't risk dirtying my clothes in case one of the other teachers should see me," he explained and before I had a chance for saying or doing anything, he grabbed me by my shoulder and turned me around while pulling me up close to him.

"So, pretty boy, is this what you want?" He asked huskily and pushed his prick in between my thighs; it was warm and erect, the head peeped out in front of me from under my balls.

I thought we'd do it lying on the floor, I told myself, but this would involve taking off more clothes than Mr Thompson seemed interested in, lest he'd dirty them. It'll be almost like it was in the toilets back at home, I decided and nodded affirmatively.

"Yes sir," I said keeping my voice down. I agreed even though I knew his prick was too large for my comfort. It was going to hurt, particularly because my bum hole hadn't yet had a chance for recovering from the very long session that same morning.

In for a penny… I reminded myself. I had told Mr Thompson about the attic and pulled down my shorts; both of which I could have chosen not to, but I wanted to be with him again. It feels superb when my bum's gotten used to his prick, it's just the beginning that's sort of painful.

"What about lube?" I asked, suddenly realising the large mass slowly seesawing back and forth between my thighs was rather dry. He's leaking pre-cum, but that won't be nearly enough!

"Here, make yourself useful," he whispered and handed me a half-spent tube of KY.

His prick was long enough for me to grease up the bulbous head while it poked out in front of me, although I managed to get my balls pretty slicked up in the process as well. When I deemed him slick enough I reached back and squeezed my hand in between us; quickly I pushed my index finger into my bum, hoping to both lubricate and better prepare it for what were about to happen next.

"Sir," I cried out in a desperate whisper when I felt him slide his prick back and started pushing it against my bum hole with my finger still inside of it. "Wait!"

"Sorry, Teddy. I thought you were ready," I heard him apologize. "Please, help guide my cock in."

Mr Thompson wasn't exactly the tallest man in history, but I wasn't exactly the tallest boy either even if I was nearly fourteen years old at the time, and he had to squat behind me to get the end of his prick in position. When he managed that, he reversed the action and slowly straightened out his legs while I made sure his prick would enter my bum hole.

Rather than prolonging the uncomfortable experience of yet again having my bowels invaded by his prick, I pushed back hard against him. Immediately, the discomfort turned into full-fledged pain, almost the same as I had experienced when Paul had so brutally stolen away my virginity.

This time, I knew what to expect and kept my voice down though I couldn't help but whimper aloud at the abrupt way Mr Thompson's prick head forced open my bum hole while I pushed back with all of my strength. It took less than five seconds for his prick to embed itself as much as was possible in this position, as had been my plan, but I just hadn't accounted for the throbbing pain this involved.

Nor had I ever considered that Mr Thompson would start fucking me as soon as he did; like Paul and Marcus, he pulled back almost as soon as he was fully inside of me and started bumming me, though fortunately for me not as aggressively as the two dominant boys had.

"I'm glad your father agreed to letting you return to school sooner," Mr Thompson whispered as he kept moving his hips back and forth. "I've sorely missed bumming a tight boy."

I had only been bummed one lousy time over the summer holidays and James, in spite of being a very good friend, just hadn't been very good at it. And his prick wasn't nearly big enough to make me spunk up from being bummed.

Mr Thompson on the other hand was proficient, truly brilliant; he knew exactly where his point of no return was and knew how to make the best from his large prick.

If I were to complain about anything, aside from the hugeness of his prick, it would be that he didn't yet know where my point of no return was, how much I could take before climaxing. Maybe he could tell and just couldn't be bothered, but once again I found myself speeding towards my orgasm, driven inexorably closer with each of his powerful thrusts.

It didn't stop him when I whimpered again, this time with joy; he simply held me tight and kept pumping back and forth, moaning and quite obviously enjoying the added tightness of my bum hole when I came. That he kept going in pursuit of his happiness with little regard to me only heightened my climax; a fact that left me utterly confused when I thought about it.

Chapter 24
Writing letters

It is weird, I told myself later that night. I had showered on my own in the shower room, and that experience had been very strange, and I lay in my bed all alone in the dorm, which was kind of a strange feeling too; but none of that was what I had on my mind now.

It can't be natural. Why does it feel so much better when I feel like I'm being used? So I like being bummed, okay that's fine, it's explainable, that's just the prostate being massaged. But that doesn't explain why I… Why it makes me feel good… Why I get excited, exalted, thrilled, stoned?

I tried coming up with the word to describe exactly how I had felt when Mr Thompson kept going even after I came and the sexual feelings left my body. High, exuberant… Better than ever. Anyway, why does it make me all those things when I feel like I'm a… A thing? An object to be used… A non-human, a lesser person… Non-important… Helpless? No, not that. I could have ended it by telling him to stop, couldn't I? Then what? A subservient? A slave?

I drifted off to sleep before I found the answers to my questions and they were still on my mind when I awoke the next morning. I wasn't allowed much time for wondering; Mr Thompson again insisted we should run until my legs smarted, my lungs burned and I felt like vomiting, before he told me to take a quick shower and meet him in the refectory for breakfast.

"Originally, I had planned on tutoring you in different subjects, but seeing as we just don't know for certain which subjects will be in your curriculum this year, I think it'll be better if we simply focus on maths," he explained.

It made sense to me too; I was far behind in maths and if I were to sit the Common Entrance at the level I desired, I wouldn't be able to remain in the bottom group like I had the previous school year. No, not just last year, I've always been in the bottom group in maths! I'd have to move up and the more I'd manage to learn beforehand, the better.

And so I started the morning working with maths, starting with simple exercises from junior school.

"To get your brain powered on," Mr Thompson said when he handed me the exercises. He left me to work and went to sit at his own desk. When I'd look at him, from time to time, he was studying three different books and making notes for his classes.

By a quarter past nine I had finished half of the exercises and found my concentration slipping. Instead of solving the problems, which I much to my own surprise actually didn't find very challenging, I resumed trying to work out the submissive streak in my personality. It was much harder to comprehend than maths and yet I dared not ask Mr Thompson about it.

Suddenly the bell ringed and it startled me. I looked up at Mr Thompson and he nodded.

"Go and get some air. Clear your mind, you've sat there for the past ten minutes doing nothing but staring into thin air."

"Sir," I agreed with blushing cheeks, embarrassed for having been caught daydreaming rather than studying as I had been told.

I sat on the same bench from where I had heard Stanley's distressed cries, and I recollected how I had 'saved' him; I had been forced to bark at Charlie, the young snobbish bully.

I felt uncomfortable then, I realized. Being bossy sure didn't come naturally to me, it was something I had to work myself up to. My thoughts drifted along to what I wanted to do with Stanley.

Wanting to lick his bum… His dirty bum hole, and having him pee in my mouth, that's… That's so degrading!

Degrading or not, it made my prick stiff as hell. It turned me on, like, really, totally turned me on. I could hardly contain myself, and I wished for it being Monday already. Maybe we can slip away for an hour on Sunday, I hoped, but knew the chances for that were slim at best and reluctantly I pushed the thought aside, and went back to the classroom to resume my studying with nothing to shield my throbbing boner.

Who's to see it anyway? I asked myself. Mr Thompson? He'd only want to suck on it.

After lunch, Mr Halford asked me to join him in his office again, this time with Mr Thompson present. He explained how he had first talked to an old friend of his, then a professor at the University of Warwick.

"I had a most informative conversation with him," Mr Halford said. "Naturally, you won't be off to university immediately after this year, Teddy, still he was able to tell me which subjects are important. Also, he gave me the name of a prep school from where they accept a lot of students and which has a good strong record."

I had never heard of the school, but Mr Halford had been busy that morning and already talked to the deputy head there.

"He was most interested when I told him of our little project. I think you may stand a good chance for getting at least half a sponsorship; granted you do well enough on your exams, of course. Well, he specified the subjects they favour and, with your approval, those are what I'll be recommending to your father that you study this year."

"It'll be just like you said yesterday then, sir? I'll only have to study some subjects and not all?"

"Yes. Well, if your father approves. Oh, the subjects would be English, maths, science, history and French."

"Oui," Mr Halford replied. "It won't be strictly necessary for university, but it is a requirement for the prep school, one of the founders was French, I believe."

At least it isn't Latin, I comforted myself. Latin, with all of its different verb endings depending on so many factors I knew I'd never fully understand them all, had to be harder to learn than French, or so I figured. History and science were my favourite subjects, English and maths not so much, but all in all I was quite happy with the curriculum.

"It would be better if you were an athlete, but I'm supposing the chances for that are infinitesimal?"

"Eh… Sorry, sir. I'm too small to be a rugby player, too short to be a runner and I'm downright useless with a cricket bat."

"Floor gymnastics would work well with your slim and lithe build," Mr Thompson suggested.

I'd rather die than being seen in a tightfitting costume jumping around all over the gymnasium floor! I told myself.

I suppose the dread that I felt could be seen on my face as Mr Halford started laughing and I felt compelled to vigorously shake my head.

"Right then. Strictly academic then, but you won't be excused from games and gym."

"That's fine with me, Mr Halford," I accepted the inevitable. At least I can check out the boys after games… Up until then I still hadn't seen a lot of the lower fourth students without their clothes on, but since they'd now be seniors like me, I was certain I'd be seeing most of them soon enough.

There was another teacher's meeting in the afternoon and I made use of the time writing a letter.

Dear James,

I'm sure your already at your new school when your reading this letter. You never gave me the address so I'm goin to send it to your mum, so she can send it to you.

I hope your well and have found a new friend to share your bed with at nite. So far, I'm all alone here at Hartswood, but Mr Thompson is taking good care of me. He is helping me with maths and I have learnt how to use Pitygator's equation: a² + b² = c². I never thought I'd learn that!

I'm being moved into the upper groups in maths, English, science and history, and will start in French class. That's all the classes I'll be taking this year plus games, so I can focus on becoming a computer enginer. Well that's the plan if I do well enuf in the common entrance exams.

You'll never guess which dorm I've been placed in this year. It's newton, belive it or not. I chose Toby's old bed and cant wait to see who will be my new dorm mates.

Your mate,
Teddy

My heart skipped once when I wrote the word 'mate'. It felt nice being able to write that knowing it was true; James and I were proper mates, not just fuck buddies.

I folded the letter and put it in one of the envelopes I had brought from home. I sealed the envelope, wrote James' name on it and put it inside another envelope, addressed to Mrs Corless, James' mum.

Now, all I had left to do was putting the envelope in the mailbox and I stole down the stairs, and all the way to the corridor containing Mr Halford's and Mr Chamber's offices as well as that of the school secretary. The mailbox was hanging on the wall next to the open door leading into the secretary's office.

I put the letter in the box and curiously had a quick glance into the office; immediately I noted three things: There were no-one present, there was a typewriter in there and a stack of paper next to it. Almost before I knew I was going to do it, I sat in front of the typewriter, typing a letter as quickly and quietly as I could using my two index fingers to tap the keys.

Dear sir or madam,

Please find enclosed cheque for £75.00.
Please send as many 2 fl. oz. tubes of KY JELLY that the money will pay for to my address.

Thank you
Teddy Larsen

c/o Hartswood Priory
17 Forest Hill Road, Horsham
RH16 4HO

PS.

Please add one red enema bulb to my order, and PLEASE mail it in a DISCRET box.

Thanx!

I carefully rolled the sheet of paper back out of the typewriter, proofread and signed it, before folding it and after a bit of searching I found an envelope. I wrote the address that Toby had given me for the special shop in London, hoping that the secretary wouldn't recognize it for what it was and that she'd simply put a stamp on it and post it with the rest of the outgoing mail.

Now, all I can do is wait for the parcel to arrive. Hopefully it'll coincide with my birthday, then everyone will think it's simply a present that someone mailed me, I thought contentedly, never considering what the owner of the shop might think of my order or that I mailed it in an official envelope with the school's name and crest on it.

Toby had asked for £2.50 per tube of lube I bought from him, and so I figured the cheque would be enough for around twenty five tubes, which should be more than enough to cover my needs over the entire school year. I had only been able to buy a new tube every third week during my first year at Hartswood and even this had been enough.

For the next three days, Mr Thompson made sure to take me on a morning run around the school grounds. I'm hard pressed to write this, but it was a most effective way of starting the day; the cobwebs from sleep were pushed aside while I ran and I felt peculiarly well after running. However, I didn't feel nearly as well as after an orgasm like Mr Thompson had claimed, and most certainly I didn't feel well enough for going running on my own in pursuit of the feeling.

Still, every morning I found myself a little more enthusiastic about going running with my maths master.

The rest of the morning I sat in the classroom learning maths mostly by self-studying and only asking questions every now and then when I couldn't work something out on my own; it was the same way I had mastered reading when I much younger, only I had asked Mum for help back then.

I was free to do what I wanted in the afternoons and during this time I read my books, figuring that since the school year had yet to start I wouldn't be breaking the rules of limiting my reading to half an hour per day. When I tired from reading, I went exploring the school.

Friday afternoon I spent an hour sitting on one of the benches next to the sports field, watching how the caretaker first mowed the grass then chalked up the lines. I hadn't seen this done before, had never once wondered how the lines were made; they had always just been there, somehow, though I suppose I knew grass didn't grow out of the ground all white and in perfect straight lines right where they were needed.

I'm sure my fascination for such a tedious task had a lot to do with my feeling seriously bored and longing for the teacher's meeting of the day to finish.

Mr Thompson's taking me out tonight! I reminded myself and checked the time again; it was half past three and exactly six and a half minutes had passed since last I checked. He'll take me to the pub again, and when we return… I tried not to finish the thought; I could hardly contain myself since I knew Mr Chandler would be heading home for "one last weekend of freedom" as he had put it when he joined Mr Thompson and me for lunch before the meeting.

I hoped we'd be having sex again, after dinner, in Mr Thompson's bed; we hadn't done anything since the much too quick single session in the attic that hadn't met his approval.

The teacher's meeting ended before I had anticipated and Mr Thompson suddenly appeared in my dorm.

"Change into your jeans, Teddy, and please be quick about it." There was a hint of urgency in his voice, enough to prevent me from asking why. I slid off my shoes, then my shorts and reached into my locker for my jeans.

"We're going to a shop before supper and we must hurry if we're to make it there before it closes."

Two minutes later, we were walking towards Mr Thompson's car and I had to stretch out to keep up with him as he strode on. When we reached his car he ushered me in and drove at speed away from the school.

"I asked Mr Halford if I could move some of my furniture from storage to the attic, seeing as it isn't being used for anything now…" he said.

"You didn't! Oh Sir! The attic is the best place for… Y'know… The others are gonna kill me if they find out that I took you there."

"Steady now, calm yourself and hear me out. Mr Halford informed me of the missing lock on the door and suggested he might have the caretaker install one, subtracting the cost from my pay," he went on explaining, making my mood even sourer.

"I told him not to bother for the sake of my old furniture, and finally he accepted that I can store it for free on the understanding that the school won't be held liable for any damages done to it."

"Oh, phew," I hefted a sigh of relief. "But, why are we going to a shop now then, sir? Shouldn't we be picking up your stuff?"

"Yes! I had to ring four second-hand shops before I finally found one that has a mattress for a double bed."

"No, however, if I were to show up with a mattress for a single bed, it would cause suspicion, don't you think? I would have room to keep it in my flat. At any rate, I've already asked them to put it aside for me, along with a pair of chairs and an old Victorian school desk."

"Yes, I've always wanted one and by chance they have one that isn't too expensive."

"Ah. How are we getting all of that back to school?" I wondered, failing to imagine how Mr Thompson would fit a double bed mattress inside his car. Never mind two chairs and an old stupid school desk!

I giggled at that, but it was exactly what we did; when Mr Thompson drove us back towards school, his car was three and half feet [c. 105 cm] higher. The large mattress extended beyond the sides of the car and on top of that stood the school desk; the two chairs fitted in the backseat.

We stopped for supper on the way back and I absolutely stuffed myself with the steak and kidney pie that was Friday's special.

"We should eat here more often, sir," I stated when we left the pub. "I thought the food at school was good but nothing compares to this!"

"It would be worth the drive to eat food like that, even if we had to go all the way to London for it!"

Back at Hartswood I helped Mr Thompson move the furniture up into the attic. We left the mattress leaning up against one of the walls and the two chairs in front of it. The school desk stood in stout solitude almost in the middle of the room; the many scratches and the slight hollowing of the wooden seat, caused by the buttocks of scores of unhappy school children who had sat on it, bore witness of its high age.

"It has a certain patina," Mr Thompson agreed. "But, it's a testament to the wonders of state-funded education. Back in the day education was only for the select few, the children of the upper class. The lower class children were only taught manual skills required for working on the farms or in the mines, but that changed in the Victorian era, in eighteen seventy to be precise."

"Maybe it isn't, but it must be close. See this hole here? That's where the inkwell was. You can even see the splatters from ink spilled by careless schoolboys."

"I've no room in the flat for it and it'll work as a disguise. And, perhaps you lads will find a use for it in your unofficial free time activities…" He winked at me. "Please do be careful with it, though. I quite like it."

"I'll tell all the others to make sure everything is just as it is now before they leave," I promised.

We had scarcely entered Mr Thompson's flat before we settled on his sofa. The TV was off but I likely wouldn't have been able to watch it anyway, had it been switched on. Mr Thompson was kissing me, had been ever since the front door closed behind us. We hadn't brushed our teeth, yet I didn't care; we had eaten the same for dinner.

Kissing Mr Thompson felt a whole lot more intimate because his mouth tasted natural and not from toothpaste. The low stubbles on his face prickled my cheeks and chin; still I kept on, I couldn't get enough of him and his tongue.

I've no idea for how long we kissed, but he left me breathless and panting for air when at last he pulled his mouth away from mine. He returned after hurriedly undoing my jeans and resumed kissing me all the while pulling them down in a series of short tugs.

I assisted him by lifting my bum off the sofa and moments later both my jeans and my underpants were down by my ankles. Rather than stopping kissing for as long as it would take me to remove them completely, I tried pushing them off using only my feet. This didn't work, likely because I still had on my shoes, and I ended up with the jeans inside out hanging from my feet.

"Leave them," Mr Thompson said in between two kisses and I felt his fingers brush up against my private parts.

"Mmmm," I happily moaned into his mouth as he unrolled my foreskin and massaged my bared prick head with the pulp of his finger.

Much too soon, Mr Thompson's mouth disengaged from mine and I tried to stop him by clasping my hands around his head while he quickly pushed up my polo shirt.

My hands were still on his head when he started suckling on my nipple. I'd never given this particular part of my body any thought, other than thinking it was rather strange for boys having nipples; ever since I learned that males can't produce milk I thought of them as absolutely useless. Even if Timothy's breasts looked large enough for just that!

One of the jokes that had been going round the dorm corridor last year was that if an infant ever were to see Timothy's bared chest, it would start salivating in anticipation of the large amount of milk such an enormous pair of titties would hold.

But, Mr Thompson soon made me appreciate the sometimes peculiar ways of nature; my nipple grew firm from how he sucked on it and massaged it with his lips, and just when I thought it couldn't possibly feel any better, he trapped it between his teeth and ever so gently bit into it.

"Oorrh!" I gasped and tugged on his head again, this time prompting him to keep sucking and nibbling on my nipple.

Alas, he must have misunderstood because he came back up to kiss my mouth. My mind and body were conflicted; I loved kissing – still do – but he'd only just shown me what my nipples were for. Mr Thompson, naturally, had but one mouth and I had to take matters into my own hands; cautiously I explored my still wet nipple with two of my fingers while he kissed me and fondled my prick and balls.

"Nnnghh…" I yelped; the combined stimulation of so many erogenous zones of my body was almost too much and I quickly turned my head, breaking off the kiss.

"The night's still young and so are you. You'll recover quickly," he said. "We can sleep in tomorrow."

He was, he still had on his jacket and his shoes. Whereas I only wore my white polo shirt that he had pushed right up into my armpits and my jeans hanging from my feet; I felt as close to being naked as one could get without actually being naked. My white underpants were lining the crotch of the jeans, inside out too.

"We'll worry about me later. Stop complaining and enjoy, this is all about you now," he said, but his voice was gentle and loving, not at all commanding.

My nipples felt raw, almost to the point of abuse, before Mr Thompson finally decided I had learned enough about their true purpose and moved further down my body. My navel, or tummy button, that slightly hollowed part of my tummy just above my groin, was another source of great delight; mostly for him as I cackled with laughter when the tip of his tongue first probed into it.

I was extremely ticklish and fortunately he didn't linger for too long before he moved further downwards. I'd been sucked by a number of people already, but Mr Thompson put them all to shame. Contrary to my previous belief, he knew exactly how far he could push me without triggering an orgasm and he knew what he must do to keep me right on the edge, never allowing me any rest.

He alternated between licking, sucking, nibbling, pinching and feather-light massaging my prick and nuts. He ignored my bum and my nipples, thereby significantly delaying my orgasm.

All the while I gyrated my hips; one moment trying to push my prick further into his mouth, the next trying to evade his fingers lightly pinching one of my balls.

It was impossible for me to keep quiet throughout Mr Thompson's wicked attack on my senses. My breathing was ragged, the inhales quick gasps of air and my exhales were variants of guttural groans and higher pitched moans and whining. I kept mumbling short words of encouragement; at times voicing my disapproval of yet again being denied the release I was growing ever more desperate for.

"Orh, sir! Please!" I begged when he, for God knows which time, just when I was absolutely certain I'd finally feel my sperm being propelled out of my body, ceased licking my prick head and sucked my balls into his mouth instead.

I reached for my prick, sopping wet with his saliva, intending to take matters into my own hands and wank it for the mere second or two it would take for me to enter Nirvana. My hand never reached its target but was arrested by one of Mr Thompson's hands.

"I need to cum!" I wailed and went for my prick with my right hand, nearly succeeding before he grabbed hold of my wrist. Without having to put too much effort into it, he suddenly held both of my wrists with only one of his hands, free to torment me further with his other hand and his mouth.

Chapter 25
Jeans are stupid!

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," I accused later. He just smiled at me like he were some naughty schoolboy. "I mean it, sir!" I reinforced my statement.

"I know mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," he brushed aside my argument with an even larger grin on his face.

"It'll take more than that to bring my prick back to live," I said and carefully examined my somewhat elongated prick; though longer than usual, now it was floppy and the skin felt soggy as if I had been bathing for much too long.

"No more of that tonight," I decided. "It would be futile anyway. You've drained my balls, there's nothing left in them. It was great, but… Guhhh, I feel sooo tired now, sir."

I watched Mr Thompson as he got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen. He returned, no longer wearing his jacket and shoes, but carrying two glasses filled to the very brim with fizzy dark brown liquid which I instantly recognized; it was the very same stuff Mum would never buy, though I had made sure to put it on her shopping list every week since I learned of it.

"Eh… I'm fine." I was too tired for blushing, even though I was 'indecent'; I hadn't bothered pulling up my jeans nor tug down my top. He's already seen all of me, no point in trying to hide anything from him now. Besides, it would require much more effort untangling my jeans than I was capable of right then; it was all I could do keeping my eyes open, though the mere thought of drinking cola was kind of refreshing.

"I'm glad you feel so relaxed around me, Teddy," Mr Thompson said and handed me one of the glasses of the fizzy liquid.

I drank a large mouthful of it before replying. "I like you, sir," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Can we do this every Friday?" I asked wistfully, though I kind of knew the answer already.

"Keep it quiet," I finished his sentence for him. "I get that. It's just…" I trailed off.

"It just isn't fair! Eh… Sorry sir, it's just that I've never sat like this with Mum and Dad."

"Guurh! I don't mean like this, sir! Not me being naked and stuff… I mean like, we're talking and enjoying ourselves… It feels… Cosy."

"It is nice. Nonetheless, we must keep your visits to Saturday mornings. Even that may be pushing our luck too far."

"I'd wish that… No, never mind, sir, I know it'll never happen. Hey, you never showed me the picture from when you went to boarding school."

Mr Thompson got up from the sofa while I took another small sip from my glass and contemplating switching our glasses as he had more Coke left in his than I had in mine. He went to the bookcase next to the TV set and returned with a large photo album which he placed on the table in front of me.

"This is a picture of my tutor group from my first year," he explained after shifting through the pages.

"Which one is you? No wait, let me figure it out," I changed my mind. He said he was too cute for his own good… I reminded myself as I scrutinized the group picture of boys who were now men. Mr Thompson wasn't an old man, he was in his mid to late twenties or something like that and still good-looking.

"There!" I stated with glee and pointed him out on the picture, he was sitting in the front row. "That's you. Holy… Sir! Now I get what you said about you being too cute… You were smoking hot!"

"Thank you. Lots of the older boys thought so too. Unlike here there weren't any unofficial rules at my school, the younger kids were open game to anyone persistent enough. I held my ground for a time, then the first one talked me into letting him bum me and he must've boasted about it to his friends. I was bummed daily by different boys for the next three weeks, some days twice."

"Ow," I said sympathisingly. I could vividly imagine how the little cute boy, smiling shyly at the photographer, had been chased around school by a throng of large, horny boys. At the same time, I could tell why those boys had been horny for Mr Thompson. If I were able to, I would've bummed him too.

"Yeah, it was like living in hell until I decided to go talk to Ian. Now Ian was on the rugby team, tall and strong, one of the strongest boys at school, a senior. He was more than happy for protecting me from the other boys, long as I'd bend over for him."

"At first I almost regretted my choice. He had a large cock, about as large as yours is right now."

"Sorry, sir, I can't help it," I said sheepishly when I realized my prick had grown hard. "Seeing this picture from when you were nine and knowing you were being bummed by older boys with large pricks… I might've wanted to bum you too, if only I'd been around then…"

"Alright," I admitted. "I would have, most definitely, wanted to bum you, sir."

"Yeah. Eh, can we do it… Uh, can we like pretend that I'm you, y'know, when you were nine and you're one of the older boys who wanted to bum you?"

"No, it isn't strange, it's… Perfect! You're like a dream come true, kid! I'm absolutely delighted I chose you for my boy this year."

If whoever he is learns that I am now Mr Thompson's boy… I shuddered at the thought of the unknown competitor retaliating.

"Alright. If we're to do this properly, you need to dress accordingly," Mr Thompson said brightly, unaware of my grim thoughts. "You sure can't be wearing jeans."

I'm not really wearing them, they're hanging off my feet, I silently corrected him.

"Undress, take off everything. I'll be right back," he said and practically ran to his bedroom.

I pulled the polo shirt up over my head quite easily, but the jeans were a completely different matter; no matter how much I tugged at them they wouldn't budge. My shoes were in the way, trapped under the jeans and I had tied the laces with double knots to prevent them from undoing themselves.

There was only one way those jeans would come off my feet without taking a pair of scissors to them.

I must pull them back up my legs then take off my shoes, and then take off my jeans.

I had scarcely decided on the plan of attack when Mr Thompson returned to the small living room.

"My stupid jeans are caught on the stupid shoes," I said in exasperation while clawing at the fabric. It appeared like a waste of time, those jeans of mine were going nowhere quickly; it was as if they were glued to the shoes firmly held onto my feet.

"Let me help you," he offered and by co-operating we finally managed getting the jeans far enough up my legs for him to undo the laces on my shoes.

"There we go." He tugged my jeans off after removing my shoes. "Take your socks off too, then put this on. I'll wait for you in the bedroom," he said and left me alone.

'This' turned out to be a pair of white cotton gym shorts; they were at least a size too small for me, but stretched just enough for me to put them on. I wouldn't want to wear these in public, I decided when I saw myself in the half-length mirror on my way to join Mr Thompson; they were much too revealing!

"Here, lean right over the dresser," Mr Thompson ordered me in a stern tone of voice. When I didn't comply straight away, he asked me a question. "Do you want me to keep you safe from the other boys or not?"

Well, I asked for it… I reminded myself, went to the dresser and reached back to pull the tight shorts down.

"No," Mr Thompson stopped me. "I want you to keep them on, just lean over the dresser and close your eyes," he said and I heard him unzip his trousers.

He's wanking! I told myself when I heard the unmistakable sounds. The sounds became squishier and I gathered he was lubing himself up.

He came closer and I felt him push his prick up against my thigh, he worked it in under the shorts and up the leg.

"Firm up your bum, Teddy," Mr Thompson said out of character. "I want for your bum hole to be as tight as possible, like a nine year-old's… Like mine used to be."

I did that, I clenched my hole shut and my buttocks pressed hard against each other. His prick inched further upwards, missing its target; I felt it sliding in the shallow furrow formed by my bum cheeks, leaving a moist path in its wake. Mr Thompson reversed and slid his prick back down my bum.

Just when he was about to move his hips forwards again I relaxed my bum; I wanted to allow the tip of his prick to spear in between my buttocks before clenching my cheeks back up around it. I suppose Mr Thompson didn't expect for me to do this, for he pushed very hard and within a single heartbeat, a quarter of his prick was most agonisingly buried in my hole.

"Eee!" I spontaneously shrieked and much too late clenched my bum firmly tight. My outburst finished almost as soon as it had started when I ran out of air and had to draw in another breath; this turned into short hisses of rapid breathing, while I waited for the sharp pain in my bum to abate.

Mr Thompson remained completely still for about ten seconds before slowly driving the rest of his long, fat prick into my bum; he had no choice but going slow for my bum was clenched as tight as I could make it.

"Well done," I heard Mr Thompson's stage whisper in my right ear. "Keep it up and I shan't take long."

Mr Thompson didn't take very long at all, which I for once was quite okay with; it sure didn't feel nice having to firmly clench up my bum hole around his cock while he powerfully fucked me.

He made sure, as was his custom, to shoot his volleys of sperm deep in my bum. It was what I favoured too, both when I was the top and when I was being fucked. Spunk's so sticky and it takes ages wiping it off! It's so much easier to just sit on the loo and push it out afterwards.

"Push it out," I heard Mr Thompson say right after his prick had vacated my bum hole and slid back out of the shorts.

"I'll soil the shorts," I protested. Just like I soiled the underpants after Marcus bummed me all night long last year!

"That's the general idea. Go on then. I must've pumped you full of air and sperm, you should be able to…"

This is SO disgusting! I told myself and cautiously let one rip. It sounded like blowing a very wet raspberry and from the sensation between my legs I could tell it was far more than just trapped air leaving my body and the realization made me cut it off prematurely.

"Good one! It's spreading nicely. Got any more?" Mr Thompson was like a child again, most energetically he spurred me on.

I tried my best not to look, but of course my curiosity got the better of me when I stood in the shower and Mr Thompson skimmed the tight shorts down my legs. Suffice to say, it was more than just lube and sperm that I saw in the seat of the once white shorts; though everything did wash out.

This wasn't the last time I wore the tight cotton gym shorts while Mr Thompson bummed me, but it was the only time we ever role-played. I wondered if he had been bummed like that when he was nine and I felt truly sorry for him if so.

It certainly wasn't how I envisioned Stanley's first bumming; although I had yet to plan it in detail, I didn't want for him to experience any pain nor did I want him to feel like I was taking advantage of his cute and perfect little body.

Chapter 26
Volunteer work

Sunday morning arrived and I woke up in my bed in Newton. I lay and reflected on what had happened over the weekend and concluded it had mostly been quite nice. All of Saturday morning was spent in Mr Thompson's bed, I had awakened to discover him bumming me and he must've had been at it for some time because my bum hole was fully relaxed and I felt no pain, just the marvellous feeling of being stuffed full of his prick.

Today there won't be any fun like that, I thought and stretched out my body. The first of the senior students, my year mates, were expected to arrive at eleven o'clock, giving them time to get somewhat situated before lunch. After lunch, we were to assist the dorm masters with the rest of the students who would be trickling in throughout the afternoon.

Since there weren't any newcomers in my dorm, I wasn't expecting to do much; I wouldn't be assigned a new student to help find his way around school like James had done for me last year.

After my morning toilette routine, I went to the refectory for breakfast; to my absolute joy I found it staffed and the stack of trays back in place.

"Welcome back to school," the lady behind the chrome counter top greeted me. "What would you like for breakfast?"

I sat at one of the tables and dug in, only looking up when someone sat on the other side of the table.

"Mr Harris," I greeted the newcomer, somewhat reservedly. I knew I'd sooner or later run into the old man, he was after all the dorm master responsible for the upper fourth dormitories; I had just hoped for seeing him later, rather than sooner.

"I won't be requiring your assistance today," he informed, almost putting a smile on my face. "Instead I've volunteered your help to Miss Manning, which she has gladly accepted…"

"Ah!" I exclaimed. Stanley's in second year. Now I can find out which dorm he's in! "Sure, I'll help her in any way I can, sir."

"Go see Matron when you've finished breakfast. Afterwards, you'll report to Miss Manning."

"Did you outgrow your little problem over summer?" She asked, instantly recognizing me.

"Oh! No, Matron," I said and blushed. "That is a thing of the past." Like very ancient history!

"See? I told you it would happen sooner or later. We needn't worry about a rubber sheet for your bed now then. So, which items of clothing has Mr Thompson already given you?"

"One tee shirt and one polo, one pair of rugby shorts and normal shorts, studded and normal shoes, two pairs of undies, and two pairs of socks," I rattled off.

"Those were all the clothes you had for a week? I must have a word with him, that's not enough and it'll wear more when," she cut herself off. "Right, you're not at fault here. I'll simply give you a full complement of clothes now. As soon as you're back in your dorm, please change into fresh clothes and return all of the dirty clothes to me afterwards, there's a good lad."

"I also wore my jeans during the week, Matron. My travelling clothes. Maybe that's why Mr Thompson didn't find it necessary to give me more clothes," I defended him.

"Did you now?" She rolled her eyes upwards and hefted a sigh. "As if I don't have enough washing as it were. And jeans… Oh lord, I can't wash those with any of the school clothes. Now, don't tell me you have a red jumper you wore as well?"

"No, Matron, only a white shirt. Sorry, I never meant for you to wash my private clothes. They aren't dirty, I can wear them just fine…"

"You are not keeping clothes you've worn for days in your locker until you go home on holidays! What would your mother think of me? No, bring your travel clothes when you return the other dirty clothes and I'll make sure they are washed. I trust they are all tagged?"

"Yes," I confirmed. It was school regulation and Mum had made certain even my socks had a name tag sewn into them.

Matron worked her magic, or so it seemed, and soon all the clothes I'd be needing for the year were laying on her counter including the games kit. It was too much for me to carry in one go, so I made sure to change into a clean set of clothes before taking all the dirty school clothes, together with my jeans and shirt, back to her supply room.

Rather than leaving everything out on my bed in a big mess like I had done a year prior to that day, I spent a bit of time putting it all in my locker; only when my bed was looking pristine did I go to the younger kids' dorms corridor.

Miss Manning was about Mr Thompson's age, perhaps a year or two older, and very kind. She smiled warmly when she thanked me for my offer of helping her and I almost forgot I hadn't exactly volunteered for the job.

It'll make time pass quicker and I'll be able to speak to Stanley when he arrives. I chose to focus on the positive side of the matter, rather than the negatives.

Our first task on the agenda was airing out all the dorms; they were rather small, and quite dark, compared to the dorms of the lower and upper fourth students situated in the newer part of the school.

When all the windows were wide open and the gently breeze allowed in to deal with the stuffy air in the dorms, Miss Manning and I went down to Matron's supply room to get linen for all the beds.

"We won't be making the beds for the boys," she explained on the first trip back up the stairs. "We'll simply place one set of linen in the foot end of every bed, then the boys will make them themselves as they arrive."

"After we're done with this, please check all the cubicles for paper and make sure all the toilets flush properly."

In the refectory I saw a couple of boys sitting at a table chatting while eating. I recognized them from last year but I didn't know their names and I sat at a different table, only interested in eating as quickly as possible. I was feeling hungry, on the very brink of starvation.

"That's why I wanted to speak to Simon and Patrick… I was put in Newton. There's only room for four and one bed is already taken by some loser who did it up real nice like."

"That Simon and Patrick will be in our dorm? I don't know. Heck, Mr Thompson said it would be for the better if… He played me!"

After lunch I sought out Mr Thompson; there was still half an hour until the first group of students would arrive. I found him talking to Mr Cooper and I didn't want to interrupt their conversation but I made sure to position myself so that he wouldn't be able to ignore me for very long.

My strategy worked, Mr Thompson broke up the conversation after only a couple of minutes.

"Uh, sorry. Why was he put in Newton? I thought you said that it would be impossible…?"

"Mr Cooper made us aware that a bit of conflict was brewing between the boys in their dorm last year. We decided that the best course of action would be to split them up and seeing as there were three vacant beds in Newton it was decided for three of them to be placed there."

"I had nothing to do with the decision though I may have discreetly pointed out the obvious solution to the problem at hand."

Miss Manning armed me with a clipboard and a pencil before I had a chance for telling Deon of the exciting news.

He'll find out soon enough, I told myself and quickly ran my eyes down the names of boys and the dorms they had been assigned in search of Stanley.

"The boys will start arriving in ten minutes' time," Miss Manning told me. "They should arrive in twenty minute intervals in groups of three."

"If you would be kind enough to find them and send them to me first then…" She explained her plan to me.

"There are thirty five boys all in all, so we should be finished just in time for tea."

Thirty five boys, arriving in groups of three every twenty minutes… Hmm, that's almost nine per hour, so I'll be doing this for the next four hours with only short breaks or no breaks at all, I concluded. "Miss, may I be excused for a couple of minutes? I think I'd better use the toilet before…"

I don't know how Matron and her conscripted junior assistants managed, but at long last, all of the students had been shown to their dorms and all of them were now dressed in school uniforms; the last of their relatives had left school, and all of us students – minus the first years who hadn't yet arrived – were assembled in the refectory for supper.

Mr Chambers, the head of school, made a short appearance and welcomed us back for another year before allowing us to start eating.

I'd seen Stanley to his dorm along with his parents and because of their presence I hadn't been able to greet him in the way I truly wanted. He looked even better than I remembered; his tummy looked flat under his shirt, almost concave. From what I could tell without seeing him naked, he had lost all of his baby fat over summer. His eyes and smile were the same as when I had last seen him.

My recollection of the afternoon was interrupted by a finger rudely poking into my side.

"Teddy doesn't read comics," Deon interjected. "He wouldn't know Superman from Batman."

"I do know who Superman is," I objected. I've heard of him, but I've never heard of Brainiac.

"So, are you? Turning into Brainiac?" Simon queried from his seat next to Patrick.

"I'm not a villain." My statement prompted giggles from my three new dorm mates. Man, if this is what it'll be from now on, it's going to take some time getting used to!

Chapter 27
Peeing in the forest

I didn't leave the table with my dorm mates after supper, instead I waited for Stanley to finish eating. I went to return my tray when he did and left the refectory mere seconds after him. Just outside the double doors I grabbed his elbow and turned him in the opposite direction of the dorms.

"I'm sorry I couldn't greet you proper earlier," I apologized in a low voice to my younger friend as I hurried him along towards the exit.

"Yeah, we must be back in our dorms by half eight at the very latest, though. Did you get all of your stuff squared away and your bed ready for sleep?"

"Nah, I could've done it myself, she did it without asking. I missed you a lot."

"I've missed you too. I've been thinking about you almost every day since we left for the summer."

He gave me a look which I suppose should demonstrate his disapproval but it only made him look cuter. Alas, I didn't tell him that; I couldn't risk spoiling our first ever evening together. Instead we walked on quietly until we entered the small forest. Fortunately we didn't encounter anyone else along the way.

We'd been to the forest once before, but not for very long. Now, we had almost ninety minutes until our curfew; because Stanley was now in second year, he had a lot more freedom to roam around the school compared to before the summer holidays.

And he's officially my younger friend now! I still couldn't believe my luck. None of the other kids can say anything even if they should see us spending time together.

The trunk of the fallen tree was rather damp and felt cold against my bum and the rear of my thighs, easily forgotten when Stanley carefully climbed onto my lap facing me. It brought his head level with mine and his sulking lips close to my mouth.

"Are you still angry with me?" I cautiously asked and looked straight into his marvellous eyes.

"Sorry," I said and kissed the end of his upturned nose. "I only asked 'cause I'm curious, y'know? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Very! So, from now on, every Monday straight after the last class, you go to the attic above your dorm corridor. Just follow the stairs all the way up, but try to make sure no-one sees you. The door isn't locked, so just enter and close it after you. Either I'll be there waiting for you already or I'll join you within minutes. Okay?"

"My last class on Mondays is games so I'll have showered and will be all clean for you when I get there."

"That's fine. I won't mind if you haven't showered when we meet. It's only a bit of sweat, right?" I asked and grinned when he scrunched up his nose.

"Anyway, on Wednesdays, also right after the last class, we'll meet in the toilets behind the science lab. Do you know where they are?"

"Great. Again, try not to be seen by anyone, or act like it's no big deal, you're simply going for a wee or something."

"Those three times a week are when we can be certain no-one will disturb us. So we can do all of the secret naughty stuff we want then."

"Wait, Stanley! Pull your shorts and underwear down, all the way and lift up your shirt."

I'd love to! I thought but choked the words back before they could leave my mouth. "No, not now. We can do that on Wednesday."

"Okay," he chippered and pushed his shorts down without undoing the button; the white underpants came down with them. He pushed them all the way to his ankles before standing upright and lifting up his shirt.

I watched him, mouth agape, as he let loose; still holding his polo shirt up with both of his hands, he arched his body forwards until it was in the shape of a longbow and immediately a stream of golden water shot out through the opening of his floppy foreskin.

While Stanley peed as if he were a fountain statue, I quietly got up from the tree trunk and approached him; I sat on my knee right next to him and studied his small genitals from a distance of about 6" [c. 15 cm].

His prick was incredibly small and delicate. He didn't have much of a shaft, just the very long foreskin, stretched out by the force of the stream shooting out from the opening. The stream arched high into the air before it splattered down onto the dead leaves about ten feet [c. 3m] in front of him. Below his prick were his balls, pulled tight to his body in a pouch that mostly resembled the one half of a walnut shell, only much paler.

It took all of my willpower to avoid touching him while he peed, but I knew if I did, I likely wouldn't be able to stop myself from doing things to him that he wasn't yet ready for. I turned my attention away from his prick; his pale buttocks were firmed up with exertion from pushing his bladder to empty itself as quickly as possible.

I've really hit the jackpot here, I concluded; there wasn't a cuter boy in second year. I knew for I had seen them all earlier in the day, I had even talked a bit with some of them while I showed them to their dorms.

"All done," he told me and bent his knees so he could pull up his shorts. "Your turn now."

"Thanks, that was pretty cool. Now, watch me," I said, unzipped my shorts and worked my prick out through the fly.

"Fair enough, I guess," I agreed and undid the button in my shorts. My prick was half hard, even though I felt a strong urge for peeing.

"Alright, but I have to hold my prick or I'll get pee all over the place," I explained and worked my underpants down along with my shorts.

"'Course, I got a big one, I'm almost fourteen. I'm the oldest boy here," I said proudly, pulled my foreskin back and focused on relaxing my bladder.

Unlike me, Stanley kept his distance while he watched me pee. I shook the last drops from the end of my prick and turned to face him when I had finished.

"Thanks," I said and smiled. I felt terribly horny, but we were somewhat exposed in the forest; at any given time someone might come and see us. I suppose we could have wanked or kissed for a while, instead we walked back inside and ended up in my favourite part of the recreation room. He plonked down on the sofa next to me and leaned back against the backrest.

"So, what did you do over the summer?" I asked. "Besides dreaming of me?" I added in a low whisper.

He told me how he had visited his grandparents in Cornwall, a city in the far south-west of England I hadn't heard of before.

"I was there for two weeks," he explained. "It was really nice, they took me to the beach and we went on a boat trip. We went to the cinema too. After that I went to Italy with Mum and Dad for a week. I saw the leaning pizza tower and Venice. I didn't enjoy Venice much, the channels smelled awful, like sewers."

"Sounds like you had a lot more fun than me. I spent one week at my best mate's house and for the past week I've been back here at school trying to catch up in maths."

"No, not the entire time, but yeah, for a couple hours every day. I'm not any good at it and I need to improve a lot if I'm ever to become a computer engineer."

"Deon will be helping me like he did last year. Maybe I can help you some, too?"

"I guess," he said and I clearly picked up a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Oh, is that what's bothering you? Yeah, we will be brothers. I didn't just say that, you know? I mean it."

"Tomorrow!" I stated quietly yet firmly. "In the attic. When we walk down the stairs after, we'll be brothers."

"I've a pocket knife," he told me, full of excitement. "It's only small but I've sharpened it a lot. I'll bring it."

A knife? I asked myself. I thought we'd be using a sewing needle or something…

"Okay," I rather dubiously agreed. As long as he doesn't mean for us circumcising each other… I'd better bring some plasters. Or maybe compressing bandages would be better!

Chapter 28
The three 'musketeers'

I stood and watched Stanley for a while as he left for his dorm; he skipped along the way, obviously happy. He had spent the rest of our evening together explaining in detail who Brainiac was and now I wondered whether I should feel flattered or offended by Patrick's and Simon's question of me turning into some strange humanoid machine with far superior intellect.

It's just some stupid comic book character, I finally decided when I walked up the stairs to the upper fourth dormitories. It doesn't mean anything.

I entered the dorm a few minutes after the start of our curfew and all three of my dorm mates were there. Deon had claimed the bed next to mine; Simon and Patrick had the beds on the other side of the room.

"When's our time for showering?" Simon wondered aloud; he was organizing stuff in his locker.

"Two minutes ago," I told him after reading the bathing schedule pinned on the back of the door to the corridor and checking my watch. "I guess we're the first."

It was a couple of seconds before my words initiated quite a bit of chaos in our dorm. Two shoes came flying through the air, one at a time, I'm not sure who they belonged to but they came from across the room, closely followed by one sock, then another.

"Hurry," Simon panted as he fumbled with his polo shirt. "You don't want me missing my shower tonight, I've been stuck on the train for six hours and it was hot as hell in the compartment!"

This was about as good a reason as any I could think of for kicking off your shoes without regard to where they might end up, though I opted for the slightly more civilized approach of using my feet to push off my shoes one at a time while I ripped the polo shirt over my head.

"We'll be showering in cold water," I warned and reached into my locker for a new pair of briefs and my newly issued towel. "It takes ages for the water to warm up."

"I don't care, hot water or not, Simon must shower before we go to bed!" Patrick stated on his way out. "We'll never get any sleep otherwise."

They're so dramatic! I thought but nonetheless I hurried after them to the shower room.

"Turn on all the showers," I suggested when I entered the tiled room. "Somehow that makes the water heat up quicker."

"The boiler is all the way down in the basement," Deon explained. "The hot water has to push out all of the cold water in the pipes first."

I suppose one of the third year dorms were already in the showers for the water cascading out of my showerhead was soon temperate. It was a good thing too because we couldn't allow ourselves the luxury of waiting for the water to warm up before starting our shower.

"Six minutes, lads," I announced and started soaping up my hair. It's a good thing my watch is waterproof.

"I told you he's got a big one," Deon boasted to my utter disappointment. Why would he tell anyone…?

"Maybe not, but he's a lot older than Teddy. He's still maturing, look he hasn't any pubic hair yet."

"Guys, I'm right here in the room with you," I pointed out without opening my eyes. Though their discussion was all sorts of embarrassing to me I wanted to check them out too, I just had to wash the soap from my hair first.

When the soap was finally washed from my hair and face and I could safely open my eyes, I saw all three of them watching my every move and the realization made me blush.

"Getting an eyeful?" I asked casually while pretending I couldn't feel my cheeks were flaming hot.

"Big enough," I said. "Bigger than Deon's, anyway. Move your hands, let me see yours."

Both Simon and Patrick were relatively small in the prick department, well compared to Deon and me they were. Puberty had clearly taken hold of them, but it had yet to show between their legs. Sadly, I couldn't study them for very long; we were quickly running out of time. We left the shower room still dripping wet just when the next batch of boys arrived for their shower.

We had only taken us the time to towel our feet before leaving; I knew that Mr Harris would have made us wash the entire corridor floor if we were to leave any wet footprints on it, and I shared that knowledge with my three dorm mates who didn't yet know him as well as I. We hurried back to our dorm wearing only the towels wrapped around our middle sections.

"This blows!" Patrick exclaimed. "It's only a quarter to nine and now we're stuck in here until morning."

"Welcome back to school," Simon said, sardonically mimicking Mr Chambers. "Oh well, it's only one more year," he continued in his usual voice.

"Oh yeah, I nearly forgot, we're seniors now," Patrick stated the obvious with glee in his voice. "I'm going to sign up for prefect duty!"

"Now wouldn't that be grand?" Deon laughed. "That's like telling the wolf to guard the sheep."

"It isn't any fun being a prefect," I warned while pulling on my briefs, remembering the one and only time I had accepted the duty for a morning. "There's a ton of rules you have to memorize and you can't just make up your own along the way."

Patrick started voicing his disapproval as I reached into my closet for my toothbrush and still hadn't finished when I left the dorm and shut the door on my way out.

It could be worse, I repeated Dad's words of wisdom to myself and walked to the toilets wearing only my underwear. I could have been sharing a dorm with three conceited fat kids.

Refreshed and with my mouth nice and clean, I went back to the dorm having decided on reading my book until Mr Harris would tell us goodnight. I knew he'd be making his rounds between half past nine and a quarter to ten, at which time we were expected to turn off our lights and go to sleep.

Only in the event of an emergency or from a dire need for the toilet were we allowed out of our dorms during our curfew from eight thirty in the evening until six fifteen in the morning. Obviously, we were allowed to shower during our allotted time slot and otherwise preparing ourselves for the night, but that was it; we couldn't go visit other kids in their dorms or linger in the showers or toilets.

I suppose the evenings were meant for quiet reflection and winding down from a long school day; only this hadn't been a long school day. It was the first day back from holidays and the three long-time friends had a whole lot of catching up to do, and I wasn't excluded from the excited chattering.

We sat in the foot ends of our beds, and Deon was just telling us about a funny fishing trip he had been on with his uncle when we were interrupted by Mr Harris tapping his knuckles on the door and opening it.

"Get under your covers lads," he told us and waited while we carried out his request. "Sleep well," he said, turned off the ceiling light and shut the door.

"Yeah," Deon said and laughed. "Only it wasn't a fish, 'twas an old leather handbag full of stinking mud and nothing else!"

"You can suck on my bone," Patrick offered and Simon wasted no time in accepting the offer.

This is so much earlier than last year, everyone's still awake, I thought before realizing it was perfectly safe. We were only the four of us in our dorm and Simon was already under the covers in Patrick's bed; it was clear to see from the look on Patrick's face that he had went straight to business. Mr Harris has told us goodnight already and he won't return until morning comes.

"Yeah alright," he agreed and joined me in my bed. "Got any lube?" He asked and kissed me on my cheek.

"You should buy some," I advised. "For your lips, they are so dry they're peeling."

"Screw my lips," he said which I took as an invite. Rather than diving in under my covers, like Simon had done in Patrick's bed, I pulled them down with me as I repositioned myself.

I ended up on top of Deon with his head between my knees, and my face near his groin. Already his prick was hardening and I freed it from his underpants, without wasting any moment of time, I sucked it into my mouth; it hadn't grown bigger over the summer and I had no problems when it poked partway into my throat.

Soon, I felt Deon pull down my pants and I happily started doing what he had asked me to; I fucked his mouth, making sure to keep my thrusts short and shallow.

When Mr Harris woke us the next morning we were all back in our own beds. Deon had left me to sleep on my own after we both climaxed and swallowed each other's cum; I think it was just before ten o'clock when Simon had turned off his bed lamp and we all drifted off to sleep.

Maybe having sex every night won't make me too tired for studying after all? I mused after breakfast; I felt fully revitalized after having slept like a log all night long and I was feeling strongly motivated when I went along with Deon to my first ever advanced maths class. Hardly anyone seemed to take notice of me as I sat next to him, but I didn't think it strange; other than the three lads in my dorm my new year mates didn't really know me.

However, my morale plunged after Mr Thompson greeted us and started writing on the blackboard.

"The next six weeks we will primarily be working with geometry," he informed us and read aloud while he wrote down the topics. "Shape, size, area, volume and so forth."

And that's just for the first half term? I thought as I listened to my teacher and secret lover. It'll take me all year just to grasp this!

I took a quick furtive look at the other kids in class and realized, from the looks on the faces that I could see, that I was the only one who seemed disconcerted with the curriculum.

"Don't worry," I head Deon's very low whisper of reassurance and I felt him gently squeezing my knee under the desk. He was smiling at me when I looked at him from the corner of my eyes.

Miss Manning taught the beginners' French class, a class which consisted of fourteen lads from all years, right from second year up to upper fourth. Apparently French didn't rank as highly on the list of desirable foreign languages as Latin and Spanish. Truth be told, I wasn't keen on learning it either, even though Miss Manning was both a sweet, young and very attractive woman.

Unluckily, none of my new dorm mates were taking French lessons and I was on my own for the first class. My class mates were all, without exception, newly arrivals to Hartswood and most of them just as useless as myself when trying to speak French; even the words that spelled exactly the same in English sounded vastly different and Miss Manning, as kind as she was, kept pestering us until we got it right.

"Dites moi votre nom et âge, s'il vous plait," she said to each of us in turn and I only knew what she asked because I could read it in the text book in front of me. The page listed the words we were meant to use in French along with their English counterparts.

Please tell me your name and how old you are, I quietly translated and looked for the French word for 'thirteen'.

"Je m'appelle Teddy, j'ai treize ans," Miss Manning patiently corrected me in fluent French, sounding as if she could be living in Paris. "Try again."

It was another three attempts until I finally managed to pronounce the words somewhat properly and she targeted the lad sitting at the desk on my left.

"Mon nom est Oliver et j'ai douze ans," he stated effortlessly, without using the book as a guide and even managing to make his name sound French.

"Très bon," Miss Manning stated and the two of them had a quick conversation, in French, before she went to the next unlucky target on the other side of the aisle.

"Hi," I whispered and faced Oliver. "I'm Teddy," I introduced myself, deeming it safe for us to have a quick chat now that everyone in class were more or less quietly rehearsing French to themselves while waiting for Miss Manning.

"I know, you must have spent at least five minutes trying to convince Miss Manning that," he said, fortunately in English with just a hint of a French accent, and he smiled. "I'm Oliver."

"It wasn't five minutes, two, maybe, at most! So, why are you here? I mean, in this class?" I asked quietly. "You speak perfect French," I added.

I nodded as if I were perfectly aware of where exactly Quebec was located. "That must be halfway around the world," I stated. "Why're you here in boring Sussex, England now?"

"Well…" His smile never faltered. "My papa and maman split up. Papa stayed in Quebec, maman moved to London. I guess neither of them wanted me and my sister around. Solution? Boarding school for me and her."

"Mon Dieu!" Miss Manning exclaimed from behind me. "I think I heard someone accidently used a bad word!"

"Pardon, Maîtresse," Oliver quickly said in an apologetic voice. "I didn't mean to, I'm not used to speaking English." His accent was suddenly a lot stronger now.

Miss Manning accepted the explanation and when she moved further away from us, we resumed our hushed conversation.

"It's all good," Oliver assured me. "I hate my sister. She's three years older than me and thinks she's God's gift to humanity. And my parents? Hah! When I was younger I thought the nanny was my maman!"

"Perhaps next year, when I'm in upper fourth. Mr Halford was very understanding when maman told him of the emotional stress papa inflicted on our family… Like she wasn't to blame at all. Anyway, they're letting me adjust to the situation in my own pace and I'm going to make the most of it. I'll be relaxing for as long as possible while they think I'm grieving."

Let's see for how long you'll be able to do that, I thought, certain that the teachers would soon see through his charade, and turned my attention back to the text book in front of me.

I couldn't help but covertly study Oliver while I pretended to study French. Though he seemed a bit like a slacker, he was kind of cute and friendly too. That he was an immigrant from a foreign country only made him more interesting to me. I wanted to ask him if he was interested in science, if he wanted to be my friend and more.

Do you want to have sex with me, Oliver? I wondered and I spent most of the remaining time in class fantasizing of how his lips would feel around the head of my boner.

Chapter 29
Brothers of the blood

"Miss Manning is so sweet!" he exclaimed dreamily as he let fly. "Oh, if only I were in second year. I'd cry myself to sleep every night."

"Why?" I asked and checked his stuff out while we peed. With a small prick like yours, hmm, you'd fit right in, I silently decided. His balls had started descending, but his prick wasn't much bigger than Stanley's.

"So she'd try to comfort me. I'd cry even harder and she'd pull my head to her chest… Man, did you see her breasts? Ils sont magnifiques! And her arse isn't half-bad either."

"Uh, yeah," I half-heartedly agreed, realizing I hadn't noticed any of Miss Manning's features.

Oliver went on describing his fantasy with Miss Manning; she'd kiss his tears off his cheeks and then he'd turn his head.

"No," I cautiously admitted. I had of course kissed other boys, and I had kissed Mr Thompson, but I sensed Oliver wouldn't understand it if I told him that I just wasn't sexually interested in girls.

"Me neither; I can't wait for it to happen. But, not much of a chance for that around here, eh?"

There are lots of options, I wanted to tell him. If not myself, I knew of at least three other boys in upper fourth who wouldn't mind getting to know Oliver intimately; I was certain that my dorm mates would all love the opportunity of introducing him to the joys of sex. Well, maybe not Deon.

Instead, I agreed with him; casually I told him that if he wanted to be with a girl at Hartswood, he'd have be with one in his dreams while wanking.

"Sure!" I claimed. "Everybody does, eh, maybe not the first year boys, but everyone else."

Fortunately Oliver didn't ask more questions about my non-existing wanking habits; he just slipped his prick back into his underwear and zipped up his shorts. He left the toilets when I was wiping my hands off, and I shrugged my shoulders.

He's clearly not interested but I sure wouldn't mind… Oh well, I decided and pushed open the door. I'm going to see lots of naked boys right soon, I reminded myself as I walked to my dorm.

After lunch, and after a dreadfully boring English class, it was time for games and gym; and the highlight of the school day, the showers, afterwards.

I suppose I had enough boys to choose from already; I could have sex five days a week with a different boy every day if I wanted, that's including Mr Thompson, but this fact didn't stop me from checking out every boy I could see in the locker room.

Like my first year at Hartswood, I decided there were lots of potential sex partners; the temptation was high, although I wasn't desperate. Well, if the right person should ask, then I'll find a way to make it happen.

I lingered while I towelled myself and carefully watched the other boys, while I willed them to hurry up and clear out of the room so I could get to the first aid kit without anyone noticing. Finally, the last stragglers left.

I ripped the first aid kit open and eagerly searched through the contents; an eight inch [c. 20 cm] long plaster found its way into my pocket along with two gauze bandage rolls. Better safe than sorry, I decided and repacked the kit and placed it back in its holder.

Thus armed, I made my way towards the attic where I'd meet my younger friend and soon-to-be blood brother.

I was nervous as I went up the stairs after making sure no-one took notice of me; I've never liked pain and I worried that cutting myself until I bled would involve more pain than I could sustain.

I stalled in front of the door to the attic and steadied myself by taking a couple of deep breaths of air. No matter how much it hurts I cannot cry out! Stanley looks up to me like I'm his hero and I must live up to his vision at all cost.

None of the many books I had read involved a crying hero. It'll only be a small nick, only a scratch. Just enough for a drop of blood. I felt comforted by the thought, turned the door knob and opened the door.

Stanley sat at the old school desk, on the seat hollowed by so many kids having sat on it before him. He looked up when I opened the door and lit up in a smile.

"Sorry I couldn't be here earlier," I apologized. "The other kids took their sweet time getting changed."

"I only just got here," Stanley assured, prompting me to check my watch. I was barely five minutes late.

"Fantastic. Did you bring your pocket knife?" I asked, partially hoping he had forgotten it. It's gonna happen anyway. The longer it takes, the more I'll worry about it.

The knife he pulled out was probably meant to be fitted on a keyring; it was less than two inches [5 cm] long and the blade he unfolded was even shorter than that.

I very nearly laughed when I saw the knife. I was afraid of that? Fortunately, I managed to keep myself under control as this moment was clearly very important to Stanley.

His eyes locked onto mine and I found it impossible to avert his stare as he solemnly held up the small knife as if it were Excalibur, King Arthur's sword.

"With this tool, we shall become brothers of the blood," he intoned in his sweet, unbroken voice. "'Till death do us part."

I wasn't sure if I were meant to say anything in this strange ritual of my younger friend and thus I held my tongue.

Before I was ready for it, Stanley grabbed hold of my fingers with his left hand and quickly slashed my palm with the razor-sharp edge of the knife. One split second I saw the small blade reflecting the dim light from the single light bulb and in the next I felt a bit of wetness in my palm; there was no pain, just a thin line of red across my palm. While I stared in disbelief at the wound in my hand, the red line grew bigger as my blood started trickling out.

"With this tool, we shall become brothers of the blood," I repeated the words, keeping my voice sincere and serious. This is no laughing matter, after all! "'Till death do us part," I finished the sentence without needing any help.

He held out his right hand as I had, and I nearly asked him if he was a left-hander like myself. Even if he isn't, he wants this so badly it won't matter to him, I decided and gently held onto his fingers.

I didn't slash the knife through the air like he had; it was only a small blade, but it was as sharp as anything and I feared for it going deep enough into his hand that he would be seriously wounded from it. A mere scratch won't be enough for him either, I sensed, and I put the blade of the knife between my index and middle finger, leaving only the very tip free to cut into his palm.

I cut him quickly, hoping that he wouldn't feel any pain; yet he whimpered and I cringed. He recovered almost instantaneously as we studied the red line forming in his palm. The cut was smaller than mine, however my palm was somewhat larger than his and proportionally the two cuts were about the same size.

I clasped it in mine and we shook hands, firmly, for a much longer time than I had ever previously shook hands with anyone. I felt how the sticky wetness of our blood mixed between our hands and imagined his blood flowing into my body through the wound in my hand, as mine flowed into his.

"Brothers of the blood, forever!" Stanley finally announced and I repeated the words, and only then did we end the handshake; our hands came apart reluctantly, the slowly congealing blood was sticky as glue.

While I carefully used some of the gauze wetted with my spit to clean the blood off Stanley's hand, I couldn't help but feel as if a strong bond had formed between us. It was as if more than just a tiny fraction of his blood had entered my bloodstream; it was as if a part of his very life essence was now within my body, and part of mine was within him.

When his hand was as clean as it could get without washing it under running water, I cut a length of the plaster and dressed his wound, finishing by wrapping some of the clean gauze around his hand.

"Leave the gauze alone until your shower," I advised. "Then after your shower, wrap your hand back up. The plaster should be waterproof, but try not to get it too wet and pat it completely dry before redressing your hand." I had read the instructions on the back of box containing the plaster. "In the morning you can remove the gauze."

"Okay," he agreed and started cleaning my wound much as I had cleaned his; the only difference being that he spat into my hand rather than spitting on the strip of gauze.

"There, all better," Stanley stated and studied his handiwork after he had finished.

The length of gauze he had wrapped around my hand needed only a little readjusting and I discreetly did this as he went to have a closer look of the other furniture in the attic.

"Yes. Last year there wasn't anything up here other than the carpet. Now there are lots of ways for us to have fun," I said and emphasized the last word. "What we do up here, stays here. We won't discuss it anywhere else."

Now, that everything was set, we were brothers in blood and in spirit, and we were officially friends, I found myself at a loss of how to proceed. All of my previous sexual encounters had been with males who were far more experienced than me and they had all without exception taken the initiative.

Stanley was a virgin, completely clueless of anything regarding sex and I suddenly felt insecure. While I knew exactly what I wanted for us to do, I just didn't know how to tell him. What if I suggest something and he won't do it? I worried. What if he laughs at me?

I checked my watch. We have half an hour remaining, I figured and took a deep breath before slowly letting the air back out of my mouth, and sat on the seat of the school desk.

"Come, Stanley," I said with my voice slightly quivering. "Sit on the desk in front of me."

Though the school desk was ancient and rather worn it was made from sturdy wood; it had been a chore getting it up on the roof of Mr Thompson's car, and even harder carrying it up to the attic. It stood perfectly still when Stanley climbed on top of it and sat facing me with his feet on either side of me on the seat.

Putting my hands on his thighs just below the hem of his light grey shorts I gazed up into his eyes.

"I'd like to see your prick up close," I informed him in a low voice. "I want to take off your shorts and pants and touch you between your legs. May I do that?"

"Uh-huh," he agreed and nodded. "We're brothers now. Brothers can do everything they want to each other," he said and thereby giving me full authority over him and his body.

I wasn't sure if he fully understood the consequences of his statement, but I was an only child; this brother thing was as new to me as it was to Stanley. We need to make up the rules as we go, I decided.

"Well, we can do everything both of us want to," I adjusted the first rule a bit. I could have went along with him and agreed to his version, but it was a double-edged sword. I'd be forced to letting him do whatever he could think of doing to me as well; and with this blood brother idea of his, I could very well be finding myself having to bend over the desk while he smacked my bum with his shoe or worse.

He willingly lifted his bum from the desk and I tugged his shorts and underwear free and down his slim legs. I eased the two garments over his shoes and placed them on the top of the desk next to him.

Gingerly I closed three of my fingers around his little prick, it was soft and the skin silky smooth to begin with and I soon felt it hardening between my fingers.

"Mmm," I hummed affirmatively. "I'm going to try to make you feel real nice. It'll feel sort of like you need to pee and that's normal. Instead, you'll have an orgasm and that is one of the best feelings in the world," I explained while I gently rolled his rapidly stiffening prick with my fingers.

When it was as hard as it would get Stanley's prick was about two inches [5 cm] long; not much longer than when it was soft, but it stood from his groin as firmly as if it were carved from ivory. It was about the same colour too, the skin criss-crossed with lots of small blue veins right to the point of his foreskin. I rubbed it in the tunnel formed by my three fingers, very short strokes up and down; ever so gently I slid his foreskin further back with every stroke.

Stanley was brilliant, he sat there passively on top of the desk, keeping his legs well apart and allowing me to rub his little knob. If anything, he was too passive.

"It'll get better," I prepared him. "Much better. This is only the very tip of the iceberg."

By now his little bluish-purple prick head was completely bared and I quickly licked my fingers to lubricate them. The taste I picked up on my tongue was exquisite; bitter-sweet, I could not taste the slightest hint of soap.

This is exactly what a prick should always taste like, I rejoiced and contemplated skipping directly to the next part. Wanking his little prick had one clear advantage, however, I'd be able to watch his facial expressions and I couldn't do that if I were to suck him off; not as easily anyway. It's better to move nice and slow, I wouldn't want to overload him with pleasure for his first time.

Besides, he was so damned cute; his eye brows twitched this way and that as he sat with his eyes shut. His lips moved too, ever changing with the feelings my fingers generated in his little prick, one second a small smile, the next a bit of a frown, then back to neutral. His nostrils flared in time with his breathing that gradually became shallower and more rapid.

He's getting closer, I happily observed. I wish I could see his thoughts and feel what he feels right now.

I could have asked him and made him explain what he went through, but I chose not to; I'd do so later. I wanted him to fully concentrate on the warm feelings spreading from his groin and not worry about how to express these feelings in words. From my own experience, I knew it was nearly impossible to put into words the marvellous and extraordinary sensation of an impending orgasm, let alone describe the first joyous climax I was carefully guiding him towards.

Astoundingly, he kept absolutely quiet throughout the journey into the unknown; if not for his increasingly ragged breathing, he might have been sleeping, that's how quiet he was.

His prick bounced once, then a few seconds later again, and he took in a sharp breath; he started shivering uncontrollably, as if he were feeling cold. Suddenly, a mere couple of strokes later, his prick grew even firmer and flexed in my fingers. I stopped wanking him and simply squeezed his prick tightly with my fingers while he climaxed for the first time ever.

A full minute passed before Stanley finally opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, then managed to focus on me. His mouth fell open just a bit and his lips curled upwards in a satisfied, small grin.

P. Writer Hartswood Priory Teddy's Story Part 4 Chapter 22 - 30

Author's note

Chapter 22
The tighter, the better

Chapter 23
Electronics and maths

Chapter 24
Writing letters

Chapter 25
Jeans are stupid!

Chapter 26
Volunteer work

Chapter 27
Peeing in the forest

Chapter 28
The three 'musketeers'

Chapter 29
Brothers of the blood

P. Writer Hartswood Priory Teddy's Story Part 4 Chapter 22 - 30

Author's note

Chapter 22The tighter, the better

Chapter 23Electronics and maths

Chapter 24Writing letters

Chapter 25Jeans are stupid!

Chapter 26Volunteer work

Chapter 27Peeing in the forest

Chapter 28The three 'musketeers'

Chapter 29Brothers of the blood

Chapter 22
The tighter, the better

Chapter 23
Electronics and maths

Chapter 24
Writing letters

Chapter 25
Jeans are stupid!

Chapter 26
Volunteer work

Chapter 27
Peeing in the forest

Chapter 28
The three 'musketeers'

Chapter 29
Brothers of the blood