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               K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Headmaster's Ritual
by Dan Perducci (address withheld)

***

A rainy day ride home becomes something else for a 
school boy getting a ride from his headmaster. (M/m-
teen, ped, 1st-gay-expr)

***

"Let's get ready to play some dodgeball!" Coach Stanley 
screamed like a maniac.

I was dressed out in my school t-shirt and gym shorts 
and swiftly exited the boys' changing room. I, as 
always, was in no mood to play against the ninth 
graders. They were rough and merciless.

Our seventh grade squad was going to get creamed but it 
was also the last period of the day. I mustered enough 
energy to race out into the schoolyard to get my ass 
kicked again.

I had barely stood in the circle of death when I felt 
the inevitable smack of the round gym ball against the 
side of my head. Class jerk Shane Franks lobbed it like 
he was aiming to take off my head.

"You're out!" shouted Coach Stanley yelled. His veins 
popped out of the sides of his neck and he blew his 
whistle like I was deaf and did not hear.

I removed myself to the outer circle and stared 
longingly at my watch. I wiped away a raindrop from the 
face of my watch and I listened for the sound of 
distant thunder.

It was a small private school and I began to daydream 
about the rain drenching the white blouses of the girls 
at my school when we would be dismissed at the end of 
the day. I especially favored Anna Nielund, she was a 
sweet Scandinavian girl who was my secret crush.

She was tall and thin with short blond hair. I could 
make out the faint traces of her bra through the fabric 
of her shirt. She only dated high school boys, though 
and I could only dream.

Anna knew that I was staring at her chest. She 
unbuttoned her blouse and I began to see a sweet virgin 
chest with no cleavage but a pretty ribbon where I 
wanted to nestle my lips. She grinned in a naughty way 
and screamed, 
"Showers, boys!"

My coach shattered my fantasy. It was ten minutes to go 
until we left for the day. It was just as well, we 
returned to the gymnasium as soon as the skies opened 
up. The rain was coming down like sudden Niagra around 
our school.

I changed quickly back into my school uniform and 
waited for the dismissal bell. I sat on the locker room 
bench. I buckled my belt and waited a moment after the 
bell rang. I hated trying to race the other boys to the 
door. I figured that I would let some other poor sap 
get stomped on the way out. I had already taken my 
pounding and the side of my head was living proof.

I rubbed my ear on the way to the hall adjoining the 
locker room. It wasn't seriously sore; it, as our 
librarian would say, smarted.

I had no qualms about walking home in a storm. I was 
one of the kids who lived nearby our private school. I 
wasn't next door but I was close enough not to have to 
take the bus. There was one problem - I did not bring 
my raincoat to school.

I pulled my bookbag out of my locker and toted it down 
the main hall to the front entrance of the school. I 
stood in front of the doorway under the overhang for 
twenty minutes. I was trying to gather enough courage 
to make my trek home without my rain gear.

"Stop being a pussy and go home!" Ben Elam teased at me 
as he passed me by, saying, "You're not made of sugar, 
you know!"

"Up yours!" I retorted. I headed out for my house. I 
knew that it was going to be a soggy ten blocks. Not 
quite a mile, but I was ready to catch cold if this 
rain did not relent.

I pressed on for a few minutes and noticed that the 
rain was letting up to a minor drizzle. My hair was 
dripping raindrops into my squinting eyes. My uniform 
clung to my body like a wetsuit.

I stood on the curb and waited to cross the street when 
I heard the honking of a car's horn.

It was a dark blue Volvo. I could not see well through 
the windows but I knew that the driver wanted to see 
me. The car was stopped right in front of me. 

I immediately recognized the car as belonging to our 
headmaster, Dr. Lawrence. He leaned over the passenger 
seat and rolled down the window.

He was a pleasant younger man for a headmaster. He was 
approximately in his mid-thirties and kind of resembled 
the singer Sting.

"You're going to need to get home quickly. Don't you 
know any better than to walk around in the rain?" he 
asked me.

"I know, sir." I sheepishly answered, "I left my 
raincoat at home this morning."

"You know that it's been raining for the past five 
days. Get in and I will take you home."

I obeyed and tossed my bookbag over my shoulder into 
the back seat of the car.

Right after I closed the door behind me, he quickly 
accelerated and drove on.

"Do you know where I live?" I asked my headmaster.

"Yes. I believe that I do," he said.

"You have to keep going until you get to Bradford 
Street. It's just past the park."

The storm returned and the visibility around us was 
next to nothing. The windshield wipers were a futile 
effort to make any headway through this nasty weather.

As we approached the park, he began to slow down. I 
wondered if he was going to make me walk home from 
there. I reached back to get my bookbag and he said, 
"Not so fast. I just want to take some pictures."

I didn't mind. I liked having my picture taken and 
figured this was for the yearbook or something.

"But I am wet, wouldn't you want my picture tomorrow?"

He chuckled and reached toward me. He unclipped my clip 
on tie and started to unbutton my shirt.

I became very uncomfortable with this.

"Where are you going to run? I don't want you to get 
pneumonia out there!" he snickered like a real perv.

I involuntarily swatted him with my hand and he 
remained determined to take off my wet shirt. 

"I have a change of clothes for you," he mumbled as he 
leered at my bare chest, "Now take off your pants."

I followed his instruction with the understanding that 
he would give me something else to wear.

I gulped when he stared at me and said that he was 
going to take my picture.

"But I'm not even dressed yet!" I objected.

"Don't you worry about a thing," he said, pulling a 
Polaroid camera from under his seat.

He licked his lips and gazed at my soaked white briefs. 
He saw the scant outline of my penis through my 
underwear. He must have liked what he saw because he 
snapped a picture and then gestured for me to come 
closer.

He then took his hands and placed them inside my 
underwear. He was playing my dick like he was he was 
trying to wake it up. I couldn't help but get hard. I 
don't know why.

He wheedled me out of my underwear and he rubbed his 
fingers through my scarce and light public hair. He 
took another picture of me and placed the camera on the 
floorboard. He leaned over to lick my chest.

He slowly made his way down until he reached my penis. 
He licked it and it got harder in his mouth. He teased 
me with his tongue and flicked it along my shaft like 
it was something that delighted him.

I felt a rush coming though my body. I shuddered and 
quivered. He cupped my balls in his hand and he licked 
my balls. I was feeling a pleasure that I knew was 
wrong.

He bobbed up and down on my crotch until I began to 
spasm violently. I thought that I was having a seizure. 
What I did not know was that my thirteen-year-old cock 
was shooting a virgin load of cum into my headmaster's 
mouth. He slurped away until almost every drop of my 
cum was cleaned from me.

I wondered if Anna knew how to do something like this. 
I bit my lip and briefly imagined her licking my body. 
This bubble was burst when I realized the stubble from 
his face was rubbing against me and his hard cock 
grinded against my leg.

He grabbed my bucking hips and seemed to devour my 
rapidly shrinking member emptying its juices into his 
open mouth.

He didn't have a clean outfit for me like he claimed 
but he drove me home from school on rainy days for the 
rest of the year. He took more picture of me and 
eventually he coaxed me into fucking his ass.

He soon found a new seventh grader to pleasure the next 
year. This seemed to be his ritual that started with a 
friendly ride from school.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 32