Pink Panther's

HARTSWOOD PRIORY

Seduction in Reverse

'SEDUCTION IN REVERSE' - PART ONE

Mike Thompson had never intended to teach in a school like Hartswood Priory. In fact, when he'd graduated from university, he was quite determined that he wouldn't. He'd been through the system and knew only too well the temptations that teaching at such a school might put in his way. He'd been targeted by the older boys at his prep school before he'd reached his tenth birthday. Of average height and slim, with blond hair and twinkling blue eyes, he'd been the cutest boy in the school. He'd done his best to keep out of the older boys' way, staying in the company of his friends as much as he could, but it was not possible to do that all the time. After two weeks, he'd succumbed to the inevitable.

The loss of his virginity had been a painful experience and one he'd had no wish to repeat, but he had not been given the choice. Where one of their number had led, other older boys wished to follow. Eventually, he'd taken the only course of action open to him, selecting Ian Fellows, a leading member of the rugby team, as his sex-partner and protector. The arrangement had worked perfectly. Ian had treated him well and kept the other boys at bay; having the older boy's penis inside him several times each week had seemed a small price to pay. As time had gone on, he'd found himself looking forward to the time they spent together, even to the inevitable penetrations.

At the start of the following school year, with Ian having departed for public school, he'd moved on to one of the new star rugby players and carried on in the same way, and twelve months later, on entering his penultimate year at the school, he'd simply repeated the trick. Carl Sinclair had required him to arrive for their assignations, which always took place in some rarely-used toilets, wearing gym shorts instead of underpants. He would bend over the toilet, allowing Carl to push his well-developed penis up inside his gym shorts and fuck him remorselessly.

When he finally reached his last year at prep school, he might have expected the situation to be reversed, but it was not to be. Unlike most of his contemporaries, over the previous two years he'd hardly grown at all. Four months short of his thirteenth birthday he was small for his age, still slim and still very cute, with puberty not even on the horizon. He was of little interest to his contemporaries, who all wanted younger partners. He did, however, come to the attention of the English master. Several times each week he would be taken into the stock room where he would be required to bend over a small desk. His shorts and underpants would then be lowered, and he would be ruthlessly fucked by the master's thick eight inch penis until his rectum was filled with the man's semen. Once it was over, he would be cursorily dispatched, making his way to the toilets with the warm, sticky fluid seeping into his briefs.

When he'd moved on to public school, the situation had been much the same. Only a handful of the new boys had yet to reach puberty, and of those he'd been by far the cutest. At least half the senior boys had pursued him, or that was how it had seemed. History had simply repeated itself. Within a week of starting at the school he'd established himself as the younger friend of rugby vice-captain David Parnell, who, like all members of the sixth form, had his own room. During the course of that year, he spent more time in David's bed than he did in his own.

Unlike his prep school, where rugby had been the only winter sport in which they'd taken the slightest interest, his public school had a well-established cross-country team. His talents as a runner finally began to be recognised and developed, though as far as the older boys were concerned, his status as a star in the making only seemed to add to his desirability. And so a year on, and with puberty still obstinately refusing to begin, he'd found yet another older friend.

Puberty had finally started a few months later, just as he'd reached his fifteenth birthday, arriving like an express train as though aware that it was inordinately late. Over the following eighteen months, he grew rapidly, his running form suffering badly as a consequence, He was frequently lethargic and beset by niggling injuries, but by the time he'd finished his 'O' levels and started in the sixth form, he'd finally made it through.

Overall, he hadn't grown that much. At five feet eight inches and weighing a little over one hundred and twenty pounds, he was still quite small, as both his parents were, though his penis had grown to an impressive seven and a half inches with girth to match. Being exceptionally fair skinned, he had still not begun shaving. He had a neat crop of golden pubes, a little hair under his arms, and some fine blond hair on his calves and forearms; apart from that he was still completely smooth, with the result that he looked more like fourteen than almost seventeen.

Almost immediately, he began to run well again, winning one race after another, which quickly elevated him to the status of one of the school's brightest stars. Possessed of a wonderful sense of humour and not a hint of arrogance, he was liked and respected by everybody. All the boys in the cross-country team looked up to him, and the youngest ones, those who had only recently come to the school, positively worshipped him. It was a situation he was not slow to exploit. They were all slim, as young runners invariably are, mainly in the early stages puberty and at least moderately cute. Over the course of that first term he fucked every one of them.

Most of them had been at boarding school before and knew what to expect. The exception was Anthony Howland, who had been a day boy at his previous school. Of medium height but with puberty having barely begun, he was the cutest of all, his naivety and lack of sexual experience simply adding to his allure. Having made it known that Anthony was his exclusive preserve, Mike had taken his time, kissing, sucking and fingering the boy before moving on to the final step.

Finally, he coaxed the boy onto his tummy. Anthony sobbed uncontrollably when Mike penetrated him. Mike was unmoved, just as his initiator had been, fucking the boy unmercifully; not withdrawing until he had ejaculated deep inside the boy's rectum. Despite his painful experience, the following day Anthony was back, the two boys drawn to each other like magnets. Weeks before the Christmas holidays arrived, Anthony was regularly sharing the older boy's bed, in just the same way that Mike had done in earlier years.

By the following September, as team captain, county AAA champion and county schools' champion, Mike's status had been enhanced still further. He'd completed the previous season by finishing sixth in the English Schools' Championships, running against boys a year older than himself, establishing him as by far the best runner that the school had ever produced. There was, of course, another crop of new boys in the cross-country team. Over the next few weeks, he made sure that he became intimately acquainted with them.

This time, his main interest was Paul Shannon. Like Anthony, Paul had been a day boy at his prep school and had no experience of boy-on-boy sex. The similarities ended there. Paul was an outstanding runner, and at five feet seven he was tall for his age, almost as tall as Mike himself, slim and long-legged; his husky voice and large penis testifying to his development; Mike was fascinated by him. After suitable preparations, Paul took Mike's penis without a murmur of protest, ejaculating prodigiously as the older boy fucked him. For the rest of the year, Mike divided his attentions between Paul and Anthony, Sunday night threesomes with both boys being the highlight of his week.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

In October of the following year, it all ended as abruptly as it had begun. Never a candidate for Oxbridge, Mike had chosen Birmingham University, partly because it was a good mathematics school, but more for its outstanding reputation in athletics and cross country. For the first time in ten years he found himself in mixed company; in addition there were no younger boys to be had. So he did as he'd always intended, drawing a line under his life at boarding school and joining the ranks of the heterosexual majority. With his boyish good looks, natural charm and infectious sense of humour, girlfriends were never in short supply.

His career at university was a somewhat chequered one. He devoted himself to running and socialising at the expense of his studies; as a result he graduated with only a third class honours degree. His running career stalled too. Although he'd been an outstanding junior, when it finally came to competing at senior level he found his slight frame unable to cope with the training that the international stars did. He'd be a top-class club runner, but that was all. And so, after three years, he moved on to the university's School of Education to undertake a teaching qualification.

He threw himself into it wholeheartedly; teaching was something he'd always wanted to do and he was in his element. However, without a good honours degree, he was unable to obtain a post in a good grammar school, the type of school in which he aspired to teach. Undaunted, he began his career at a large comprehensive school some ten miles north of Oxford.

It was a disappointment. Although he did get to teach some able and highly motivated students, overall standards at the school were depressingly low. Most of the children came from working class backgrounds, with parents including agricultural workers, well-paid car workers and members of the armed services stationed at the various bases in the area. Few of them showed much interest in what the school had to offer. Worse still, well over half of the children were bussed in from the villages surrounding the small town where the school was located, making out-of-school activities very difficult to organise. With little support from the school authorities, Mike's dream of establishing a school cross-country team proved impossible to realise.

To add to his problems, although living in Somerstown was very pleasant, being close to Oxford University and the city centre it was extremely expensive; without subsidies from his parents he would not have been able to make ends meet. After two years it was time to move on.

He obtained a post at another comprehensive school not far from his parents' house in Surrey. Standards at the school were generally much higher than they had been in his previous establishment. The parents were overwhelmingly supportive, their children well-motivated and keen to learn, and as they all lived within reasonable travelling distance, there was a multiplicity of extra-curricular activities. However, the frustrations continued. There were a good number of very able students, but he never got to teach any of them as Roger Boulton, the Head of Mathematics taught all the top groups himself. And although he did put a cross-country team together, the school was football (soccer) mad, all other sporting activities revolving around the needs of the football team.

Even so, he applied himself enthusiastically, quickly establishing himself as a highly effective teacher, obtaining excellent results from students of quite modest ability, and within a year his cross-country team, composed of waifs and strays that the football team didn't want, was also doing well. He was highly regarded by colleagues, students and parents. There were other benefits too. Living at home, he was able to rebuild his finances, enjoying a lifestyle that had not been possible when he lived in Oxford. And best of all, or so he thought at the time, he met Claire, his soul-mate and first 'serious' girlfriend. After a year together, they were engaged to be married.

However, after two years at the school, he reached a crisis point. He approached Roger Boulton, asking to being given experience of 'O' level and 'A' level teaching, experience he desperately needed if his career was to progress. His approach was firmly rejected. He complained to the Headmaster, who though sympathetic, was unwilling to intervene. It was widely believed that Mr. Boulton, who prior to his appointment had spent twenty years teaching in grammar schools, was incapable of teaching children of average or below average ability.

When the new school year began, Mike was already considering looking for another post. His decision to do so was made when Gary Whelan, his best runner, was summarily drafted into the football team. The boy was not given a choice and he was not even informed. Gary had been in second year when Mike had started at the school, a gangly twelve year old who hadn't even come close to making the football team. Two years on, as a result of the training he'd done, he was extremely fit and had an excellent work ethic, in marked contrast to many of the regular members of the football team. When Mike challenged the decision, he was told in no uncertain terms that the football team came first and there was no more to be said. It was a stab in the back that he could not accept.

The problem, however, remained; obtaining the type of post he wanted was as difficult as ever, his modest degree and his lack of 'O' level and 'A' level teaching experience working against him. Each week, he trawled through the Times Educational Supplement, looking for suitable vacancies. He submitted applications for posts at more than a dozen grammar schools, both state and independent, but although he was interviewed for four of them, he was not successful.

In the course of perusing the TES, he looked at the prep school vacancies as a matter of course, more out of curiosity than anything else. That was where he noticed it.

Dynamic, forward looking prep school located in rural Sussex is seeking to appoint an energetic mathematics teacher, committed the achieving the highest standards across the board. Applications from those who can make a contribution to the school's extra-curricular activities will be especially welcome. We offer a salary well in excess of national scales. Accommodation within the school will be available for the successful candidate.

The wording of the advertisement caught his attention. 'Committed to achieving the highest standards across the board'; he was certainly that, and as for 'making a contribution to the school's extra curricular activities', well he could do that too. He noted the address. Although in Sussex, it was only a few miles from the Surrey border. Commuting would be possible, but if they were offering accommodation, he probably wouldn't need to. However, it was close enough that he would be able to meet up with Claire in the evenings and at weekends, and to get home to see his parents whenever he wanted.

The other matter, he decided, was no longer of such concern; all that was a long time in his past. He was an experienced professional and knew how to handle such situations. There were boys at his present school that he could have seduced had he wished to do so; he hadn't even been tempted. And although his professional life had been frustrating, his personal life was good; he was engaged to be married, and had no intention of taking a step backwards where that was concerned.

He submitted an application. He was, after all, not committing himself to anything. If he was called for interview and the school proved to be less dynamic and forward-looking than the advertisement suggested, he would simply withdraw his candidacy. Forgoing his expenses would be a small price to pay for avoiding another mistake.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Interviews for the post were held on a bright sunny day in the middle of May. Mike arrived, along with two other candidates, a little after nine o'clock. They were welcomed to the school by deputy head John Halford.

"Hartswood Priory does not cater for the sons of the idle rich," he told them quietly. "The parents of our boys have are mainly successful professionals; others have done well in commerce and industry. All of them have worked hard for what they have, and overwhelmingly they expect their boys to do the same. So we have to foster a culture of achievement to meet those expectations. We encourage excellence in all spheres of activity, in the classroom, on the sports field, in art, music and whatever else. We see it as our job to help the boys take responsibility and make the best of whatever abilities they have."

Mike was impressed, not only by what John Halford had said, but by the way he'd said it. There was a warmth in his voice, a passion; he took to the man immediately. After some further discussion, they were taken to meet headmaster Gordon Chambers, whom Mike instantly recognised as the brains of the organisation. Introductions concluded, they were taken on a tour of the school, which began just as the boys were making their way out to morning break. Although Mike had put all 'that' firmly behind him, he could not help allowing his eyes to wander. With all the boys dressed in fashionably short shorts and many sporting quite long hair, there were, without doubt, some beautiful specimens on view.

After the tour, the three candidates met with the present mathematics specialist, Mr. Jones, who was moving to a deputy headship at a school five miles away. Mike found it most illuminating. The man was complacent and lazy, speaking disparagingly of the 'lesser brethren', boys who found mathematics difficult whom he obviously despised. It also appeared that he had not made any provision for boys of outstanding ability, and in such a school there would certainly be some. Mr. Jones had, to put it bluntly, done the least he could get away with. The razor-sharp Mr. Chambers had, Mike concluded, pulled the well-established trick of giving the man a glowing reference in order to get rid of him.

The discussions also enabled him to take stock of the other candidates, one a man is his late thirties, the other in his mid forties. Although they had far more experience than he did, both were rather conservative, wedded to the traditional prep school way of doing things. He considered them rather dull. More to the point, he doubted if they were what the school was looking for.

They took lunch in the refectory, alongside the boys. The atmosphere was relaxed but orderly. Even though the boys seemed lively and enthusiastic, it was clear that they were expected to behave responsibly, which they did with minimal supervision. As an environment for teaching and learning, it would have been difficult to better it. Replacing the indolent Mr. Jones would involve a great deal of work, but the potential was enormous.

The interviews began shortly afterwards, with the candidates called in alphabetical order, which put him last. After almost an hour, he was finally called in.

"One area where we are keen to improve is in the standards achieved by the weaker boys," the headmaster said. "How would you go about that?"

"I'd start by taking a step back," Mike said, with the assurance of one on familiar territory, "getting them to do simple things well to build up their confidence. Once I'd achieved that, we'd move forwards from there. You have to make it easy to understand; it has to be fun, too," he went on. "That applies to all the boys, not just the weaker ones. Why should I expect them to be enthusiastic about mathematics if I'm not? I need them to look forward to coming to my classes. The only way that they're going to improve is for them to work harder, and they're only going to do that if I create a buzz in the classroom, get them enthusiastic about what they're doing."

The interview continued with Mike's passion and enthusiasm bubbling away. After twenty five minutes it concluded. He left the room on a high. Even if he didn't get the job, he'd been given the opportunity to put forward his ideas on matters that he cared deeply about. The discussion among the appointing panel was remarkably brief. After a mere twenty minutes the chairman re-appeared in the staff room where the candidates were waiting.

"Mr. Thompson, would you come in please?" he intoned.

Mike was elated; they were going to offer him the job. As the formalities were laid out, it became clear just how good a move this would be. He would get a substantial increase in salary; in addition, he would have the use of a small but well-appointed apartment, not in the school itself, but in the gatehouse at the end of the drive. It could hardly have been better. He and Claire were saving for the deposit on a place of their own. The salary increase, together with the fact that he would be able to take most of his meals in school, would help considerably. It was simply too good an offer to turn down. In reality, he could hardly wait to get started.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Before the end of the summer term, Mike visited the school on several occasions. He was introduced to games master Jim Cooper, with whom he made friends immediately. The situation was clear enough. Although the rugby team had first call on the talent, there would be no question of one of the cross-country runners being conscripted into the rugby team; in fact the boys at Hartswood weren't conscripted into anything. He could live with that.

He also met Mrs. Bradshaw, the general subjects' teacher, who had taught mathematics to the bottom groups in years one and two without any help or guidance from Mr. Jones. That would have to change, Mike decided. He and Mrs. Bradshaw would share the teaching of all the first and second year boys and he would decide what was to be taught and how. Although somewhat apprehensive, Mrs. Bradshaw was impressed by Mike's obvious enthusiasm and agreed readily enough.

Finally, he ordered new supplies of books and materials. He asked for some extra money so that he could introduce some more up to date text books. The additional funding was approved within twenty four hours. With everything in place, he enjoyed his best summer holiday ever, including spending two weeks with Claire at a villa in Tuscany, along with another couple of their acquaintance. It was all finally coming together; he was the happiest he had ever been.

As the end of August approached, he moved into his apartment. He was pleased to be away from home again; it allowed him to assert his independence. He pottered around, making final preparations for the new term. It was enormously exciting. From being a member of a large department with few responsibilities, he had been put in complete charge. Whatever mathematics was taught in the school was down to him; it was a huge challenge.

He was introduced to the rest of his colleagues, including two other new starters, English master Andrew Farnham and religious education master Stephen Randall, both young but seasoned professionals like himself. On the Friday before term started, there was a staff meeting.

"The team is now in place," deputy head John Halford told them. "You are the people who will take this school forward over the next few years and I am confident that working together we can make the school more successful than it has ever been. I can assure you that you will have the full support of myself, the headmaster and the governors in your efforts to achieve that."

He could hardly have spelt it out more clearly.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike's impact in the classroom was immediate. His boyish enthusiasm, coupled with his knack of making everything as simple as possible had the boys captivated; within a few days they were eating out of his hand. Teaching mainly by question and answer, even with the bottom groups, every question he posed was met by a forest of hands of boys eager to supply the answer. It was fast-paced and it was fun. After almost every class boys would come up to him to say "You're much better than Mr. Jones, sir!" simply reinforcing Mike's view of how poor his predecessor had been.

Mike taught one class after another on an almost permanent high. He'd always dreamed of working in an environment where the children were so receptive. However, he did meet resistance, and not all from the expected quarters. The top group in Upper Fourth, many of them in the early stages of puberty, were not used to working anywhere like as hard as Mike expected them to. They had become complacent. For prep he set them an exercise in simple algebraic factorisation. There were mutterings of discontent.

"Sir, Brian Harper asked, bringing things out into the open. "Do we really need to do forty examples?"

"Do you play sport?" Mike asked.

"Yes sir, rugby and cricket," Brian replied proudly.

"Batsman or bowler?" Mike probed.

"Batsman sir," Brian told him.

"And if you want to improve your batting, what d'you have to do?"

"Practise, sir."

"A lot of practice or just a little?"

"A lot, sir, if you want to be really good."

"That's exactly right," Mike said calmly. "And mathematics, at least this sort of mathematics, is no different; it's a skill-based activity, just like batting. And if you want to become really good at it, you need to do a great deal of practice."

The revolt had been headed off, but Mike hadn't finished.

"There's another aspect to this, gentlemen," he intoned, surveying the boys in front of him. "I'm not interested in you just doing well enough to get through Common Entrance. The only thing I'm interested in is you doing the best you possibly can, whatever that is. That does mean a great deal of hard work on everybody's part, yours and mine, but I won't settle for second best and neither should you." He looked intently at the boys, who were hanging onto his every word. "There is just one final point," he told them. "If you carry on in the way Mr. Jones apparently allowed you to, you'll get a nasty shock when you eventually get to public school and find out how hard they expect you to work. So I'm going to make sure that you develop some good working habits before you get there. Right lads, off you go to break!"

As the boys trooped out looking suitably thoughtful, Giles Madison, whom Mike had already identified as one of the most able in the group, stayed behind.

"Thanks sir," Giles said quietly. "I think we understand now. Nobody's ever talked to us like that before."

"You're welcome," Mike said. "You're young adults now; it's important that you understand why I'm expecting you to do all this work."

"Yes sir, thanks," Giles reiterated before heading out to join his friends.

Mike glowed inwardly; it was just the reaction he'd been hoping for.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

There were other challenges, notably from Max Hartley-Taylor in Upper Fourth, the biggest boy in the school, whose aim in life seemed to be to do the least amount of work he could get away with, and from second year Gavin McIntyre, who was incapable of sitting still for more than two minutes. Mike had dealt with all such challenges firmly but fairly. He was settling in very much as he'd hoped; he'd set down his marker. Yes, he was an excellent teacher, and yes, his classes were fun, but no, you could not mess about; you had to behave yourself and do your work. By the end of the second week, it was a message that every boy in the school understood.

In addition to the regular classes, Mike established a special class for the boys who would be going in for the Public Schools' Scholarship exam, Giles Madison, Leo Johnstone and Ashton Hayes. Even though it was only twenty five minutes on a couple of afternoons each week, it enabled him to give the boys the extra help they were going to need, help that the lads themselves clearly welcomed. Things were going well; he'd finally found a school where he could use his talents to the full and really make a difference. Hartswood Priory was starting to feel like home.

After another week he was getting to know the boys and had found out quite a bit about how the school worked. Sex among the boys was definitely happening, but it was far from the free-for-all of his own prep school days. Several members of the rugby team, mainly boys in Upper Fourth, had younger friends, but it was all done so quietly, unless you knew what to look for, you wouldn't have noticed it. And there was no suggestion that any of the younger boys was being coerced; they all seemed perfectly happy with the situation, having an older friend among the rugby team seemed to be something of a status symbol.

It also appeared that at least two of the masters were having sex with the boys, games master Jim Cooper with William Lawrence, a tall, pencil-slim blond lad in Lower Fourth who was, by all accounts, a star high jumper and hurdler, and music master Richard Burman with Leo Johnstone, an excellent musician, who was tall and very pretty, with blue eyes and messy, straw-coloured hair. Here again, there was not a hint of coercion. William was very quiet, but Leo never tired of telling people what a great teacher Mr. Burman was and how much help he'd given him. At one time, it would have been of great interest to him, Mike reflected, but not any more. That sort of thing was consigned to his past and that's where it was going to stay.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As they moved into October, it was finally time to think about starting the cross-country team. Apart from the first years, whom they considered to be too young, Jim Cooper conducted trials during gym classes, aiming to pick out boys who looked reasonably good but wouldn't feature in future rugby teams. The exercise produced a group of eight boys, Craig Shackleton, Martin Greenhall and David Broadwood from Lower Fourth, Patrick Naylor, John Mitchell and Mark Anderson from third year and second years Jamie Barnett and Philip Harvey, known to everyone as Pip.

"There's nobody from Upper Fourth," Jim explained. "The two best are Ashton Hayes and Jonathan Moore, but they're both key members of the rugby team. There's nobody else even close to them. I did mention that you were going to get a team started, but nobody seemed that keen. I didn't push it with them; if you're thinking of this as more of a long-term thing there didn't seem to be much point."

Mike readily agreed; it was a small squad but it was the right sort of number to begin with.

"There are a couple of talented lads there," Jim continued. "Craig made the final trial for the rugby team, but he'll do much better as a runner than he would as a rugby player. He doesn't enjoy hard physical contact, and that's an essential part of the game. The other one's Jamie. He isn't a ball player, but he can run all day; he should do well."

As he taught them all, Mike already knew the boys on Jim's list. Seven of the eight were in the top maths groups. Of those, Craig was a very able student, and Patrick, who had only just started at the school, also seemed to have the potential to do well. At the other end of the spectrum, John struggled to keep up, although he did try hard.

The one member of the squad who wasn't in the top maths group was Martin. The boy was far from stupid, but he was mediocre, there to make up the numbers, or that was how he saw himself. In class, he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, keeping his head down and doing just what he needed to. He never put his hand up to answer questions, but Mike asked him anyway, making sure he answered as many questions as the other boys. It was a surprise that he'd agreed to join.

They met for the first time the following afternoon, running a circuit of the playing field and two laps of the adjacent woodland. The order was much as Jim had predicted. Craig was out on his own, Jamie, Martin and Patrick ran together with the other four a little way behind them. There was certainly potential there.

When training was over they returned to the changing room. The boys stripped off, heading for the showers. It was the first time that Mike had seen any of the boys naked. There were some real beauties, he observed: Craig, tall and elegant with legs that seemed to go on forever, Patrick with his collar length ash-blond hair and a quite wonderful smile and John, his short, white-blond hair giving him a very boyish look. He noticed something else too. He'd already pretty much worked out that Patrick was Brian Harper's younger friend. Naked, the evidence of their activities was readily apparent; Patrick was being fucked.

A couple of minutes later, the runners were joined by the rugby team. He looked around with interest, taking careful note of their sexual development. Ashton Hayes and team captain Jeremy Pollard were the biggest by some margin, with Max clearly in third place. Brian was one of the next group, not exceptional, but quite big enough to have stretched Patrick's anus as he obviously had. There were surprises too; the tall, elegant Giles was very modestly endowed, while scrum half Toby Redman, a year younger and the smallest boy in the team, was already quite well-developed.

Mike smiled to himself. Ten years earlier, he'd have been right in the thick of it all, deciding which boys he wanted to fuck, and who he'd go for first. But that was then. Things had changed and he'd changed with them. He wasn't part of it any more; he was just an observer, on the outside looking in. He could look, maybe even admire a little. The boys were all wonderfully unselfconscious; they didn't seem to notice. So that was it; look but don't touch. No harm could come from that, now could it?

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Brian, could I have a word please," Mike asked as the top Upper Fourth class trooped out to break.

"Yes, sir?" Brian asked expectantly, once the other boys had left the room.

"First of all I want to say that I've been very impressed with the way your work's improved over the past couple of weeks," Mike said quietly. "Your last few prep exercises have been excellent, so well done for that."

"Thanks, sir," Brian said, smiling. "You were right about doing lots of practice; I feel much more confident now."

Mike grinned. Brian was a good looking boy; it was no surprise that Patrick was attracted to him.

"Very good," he said quietly. "Brian I hope you don't mind me asking this, but I believe that you're Patrick Naylor's older friend?"

"Yes, sir," Brian responded.

"I only ask because apart from teaching him, Patrick is one of my cross-country runners," Mike said.

"Yes, I know sir," Brian said enthusiastically. "It's great to see him getting involved in things."

"The thing is," Mike continued, "after training the other day I saw him in the showers. It was rather noticeable."

Brian blushed bright red, looking somewhat apprehensive.

"Don't worry," Mike said reassuringly, "you're not in any trouble. I went to boarding school from the age of eight; I know what goes on. I'm just trying to understand how things work here. It's not all about sex, is it?"

"Oh no sir," Brian told him, smiling again. "I mean, we love doing stuff together, but Patrick really looks up to me. He always comes out to support me when we're playing rugby, and when I'm tired after I've been working all day, it's great to meet up with someone who can make me feel good again, you know, just chatting and helping me relax."

"I see," Mike said quietly. "And what does he get out of it?"

"I look after him, sir," Brian said confidently, "make sure nobody's picking on him, not that anyone has. I just make sure he's doing okay. Do you know why Patrick came here, sir?"

"Yes," Mike said. "Mr. Halford told us, very sad."

"Well, he seemed to be doing really well at first," Brian said. "I guess it was because it was all so new. Then it suddenly hit him; he was missing his mum and crying a lot. I spent ages with him, you know, just listening to him talk about her and all the stuff they used to do together. After a week or so he started to get over it. He's doing really well again now, isn't he sir?"

"Yes, he is," Mike agreed, "and it sounds like you helped a lot. How do you feel about that?"

"Really pleased sir," Brian said proudly. "Patrick's great."

"Thanks, Brian," Mike said, smiling. "I won't delay you any longer. Just keep looking after him, okay?"

"Yes sir!" Brian responded before heading out to break.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was shortly after Christmas that Ashton Hayes asked if he could join in the Sunday morning training sessions. It was the one occasion the week that the cross-country runners trained and the rugby players didn't, and so it was the only time he was available. Mike checked with Jim Cooper.

"I've no objection if he wants to do it," the games master said. "He's the best runner in the school; it's a bit unfortunate he can't devote more time to it. You won't even get to see him in the summer; he'll open the bowling for the cricket team, so he'll be training with John Halford all the time."

In one respect, Mike was pleased to welcome Ashton on board; it would give Craig someone to run with, someone to push him even, but he was puzzled as to why a lad who was already involved in scholarship work, the rugby team and the orchestra would want to give up an hour each Sunday morning to run with the cross-country team when he wasn't going to race. It seemed very odd.

The Sunday morning training session went superbly. Ashton ran with Craig all the way, just as Jim had asked him to, giving the younger boy exactly the sort of work-out he needed. They wandered back into the changing room, the boys heading for the showers. As the other boys were starting to leave, Ashton and Martin were still there. The reason for Ashton's presence was now clear enough; once they had the place to themselves, he and Martin would get together, probably in the toilets.

"I'm turning the showers off now," Mike informed them. "Everyone else has gone. Don't be too long; you'll have the caretaker after you."

After turning off the water, he strode through the now empty changing room, following his young charges out into the pale January sunshine. After cross-country training the following afternoon, Mike's suspicions were confirmed, the evidence that Martin had been penetrated by Ashton's large penis there for all to see.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As winter turned into spring, the cross-country boys took part in a few low-key races to gain some experience. Much as expected, Craig did well, winning one and finishing in the top three in the others. Martin, Patrick and Jamie had all ran competently, an outstanding performance from Jamie, who was two years younger than the boys he was racing against. The other four were a little way behind, but certainly didn't disgrace themselves.

The Common Entrance and Scholarship examinations were finally out of the way. Mike was happy that the boys were as well prepared as they could have been. He felt sure that the Common Entrance results would show a marked improvement on what the school had achieved in previous years. As for the three scholarship candidates, he was confident that Giles and Leo would have done well enough, though he suspected that Ashton, who was not quite as good as the other two, probably wouldn't.

As they moved into the summer term, Mike's training squad changed. Craig was a keen cricketer and on the fringe of the school team, and so he only trained with them on Sunday mornings. On the other hand, they gained Evan Williamson, a rugby player but not a cricketer, and the best runner in third year. The training itself changed too, with fewer long runs and more speed-work. It was a happy time; Mike felt fully involved in a way that had never been possible in his previous schools.

Shortly before the half term break, John Halford called Mike into his office.

"I notice that you've been keeping Upper Fourth very busy even though they've finished their exams," John commented.

"Like I've told them, I'm preparing them for what they're going to face when they get to public school," Mike responded. "I've got them into pretty good working habits over the past few months; it's important that they don't lose them."

"The reason I called you in is that the Common Entrance results have come through," John continued. "They're the best we've ever had; twenty one boys have done well enough to win places at top schools, so that includes six boys in the bottom group, where we've always missed out before. That's down to you; you've made such a difference to those lads."

"Thanks," Mike said, pleased that his efforts were receiving such generous recognition. "Six is okay for starters, but my target for next year is ten."

"Well, I'm pleased to see you're not resting on your laurels," John said, smiling. "Getting that number of boys into top schools would put us on a par with the best prep schools in the country, which is certainly where we want to be."

"I'm aiming to do a lot more with the scholarship boys next year too," Mike said. "They're much better prepared than this year's group, so I'm going to put them in for 'O' level maths. It'll mean a great deal of hard work, but I know they're capable of it. I'm going to put Deon Hayes in with them; I know he'll only be in Lower Fourth next year, but he's outstanding, the best mathematician I've ever taught."

"Really?" John said, his eyes widening. "That really would be something; very few prep schools even attempt that sort of thing. The governors will be most impressed if you manage to pull it off."

Mike left the deputy head's office on a high. He was making his mark, just as he'd always wanted to.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

When the summer holiday finally arrived, Mike took the opportunity to get away from his life at Hartswood, spending far more time with Claire than had been possible during term time. They went to Crete for two weeks, sharing a villa with the same friends that they'd holidayed with the year before. Each evening, they sat watching the sunset, making plans. It was idyllic; Mike could not have been happier.

As the end of August approached, refreshed by the break, Mike threw himself into the task of preparing for the new school year with more enthusiasm than ever. Having been at the school for a year he knew what the challenges were and what needed to be done. With a full racing programme for the cross-country team and a group of boys to take through 'O' level maths, thorough preparation was essential, but he was young, fit and enthusiastic; none of it was a problem.

He got the scholarship candidates together a few days after term started. There were four of them, Justin Armstrong, Craig Shackleton, Toby Redman and Dominic Lees. They knew about the extra classes they'd have to do, but were rather taken aback when told that they would be put in for 'O' level maths the following summer. They seemed surprised too that Deon Hayes would be joining the class.

Mike was somewhat wary of Toby's reaction. Toby had done very well the previous year and seemed to enjoy his classes, but while the other three boys were placid and biddable, Toby had an abrasive manner and a reputation for being difficult to handle. If he decided that attempting 'O' level was too big a step, or if he resented being shown up by the younger but extremely clever Deon, he could make things very awkward. In the event, he did the exact opposite. Toby, it appeared, liked challenges. It was a very positive start.

There were a few changes in the cross-country squad. David Broadwood, now in Upper Fourth, had decided not to continue; it was not unexpected. They had, however, recruited Aaron Starmer from Lower Fourth, Tom Shields and Scott Hawken from third year and Greg Newman from second year, taking the total number to eleven. But the biggest change was that Martin had improved out of all recognition. He'd trained all through the holidays, he'd grown and his voice had started to break. In training he was able to run with Craig, something he'd never previously managed. With their two oldest boys running well, they had the makings of a good team.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

They'd been back at school for just over three weeks; everything was going well. It was Wednesday afternoon, with Upper Fourth bottom group the final class of the day. This group was Mike's other big project. Out of fifteen boys, there were four who stood no chance of making the grade in the Common Entrance exam, including new boy Teddy Larsen, who was extremely weak. If he was to achieve his target, he would need the others to perform to their absolute best. It was his job to make sure they did. The bell sounded, signalling the end of the class.

"Well done today, lads!" Mike said enthusiastically. "Put your things away, put up your chairs and make your way out quietly."

As the other boys left the room, Martin hung back. He strolled up to Mike.

"Sir could you help me with these, please?" he asked. "I don't understand them very well."

Mike thought it an odd request; there had been no indication during the class that Martin was finding the work difficult, but having spent over a year trying to get the boy more involved, he was not going to turn him down. In any case, the scholarship boys would not arrive for their class until half past four, leaving him an hour to kill.

"Yes, sure," he said, smiling. "Pull up a chair and we'll go through them."

Martin did as he was asked and they set to work. After a couple of minutes, Mike became aware that Martin's thigh was pressed against his own. He adjusted his position slightly, but within seconds the boy was once more pressing against him. Trying to avoid Martin noticing, he glanced down to his left; the boy was sporting a very obvious erection. To his horror, Mike became aroused in an instant. Worse still, Martin had noticed and was snuggling even closer, his fingers running along Mike's thigh. Mike was almost panic stricken.

"Martin, you shouldn't be doing that," he said gently.

"Why not, sir?" Martin asked. "You know you like it."

That was just the problem, Mike reflected, he did like it.

"Because it's not right," Mike countered, unable to think of anything else to say.

"So how's that, sir?" Martin persisted. "Mr. Burman and Mr. Cooper both go with boys and nobody says anything about them doing it. And I really like you, sir."

Mike was confused and on the point of becoming angry. He was being put into a situation he'd always tried to avoid; worse still, he wasn't even sure why Martin was doing it. He looked the boy right in the eye; Martin was looking at him adoringly. His anger melted. Martin wasn't trying to wind him up; the boy was one hundred per cent genuine. He could have ended the situation by shouting at the boy and throwing him out of the room, but that would have undone all the work he'd done with the lad over the previous year. He couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Martin," he said, firmly but gently. "I don't do that sort of thing."

"You must have done when you were at school though, sir," Martin pleaded. "You were at boarding school; you told us. You must have done it then."

"That was ten years ago," Mike responded, trying to hide his exasperation, "and I've not done it since."

"Why not, sir?" Martin repeated.

"Because when I left school I finally got into girls," Mike explained patiently. "That's how it is. Martin, I'm engaged to be married!"

"But you still want to do it, sir," Martin insisted. "You've got a hard-on; I can see it. And I've seen you looking at us when we're in the showers too sir, just like Mr. Cooper does. Come on, sir! We can go in the store room; nobody will find out."

"Can't you find one of the other boys to help you out?" Mike asked, searching desperately for a way out.

"Oh, Justin gets in bed with me at night," Martin said, sounding rather sad, "but I'm just his bit on the side; Patrick's his boy. He only goes with me because he can't see Patrick as often as he'd like to."

This wasn't entirely news; since Brian's departure in the summer, Patrick had attached himself to Justin Armstrong, one of the brightest and nicest boys Mike had ever met. Justin's father was a senior Anglican cleric; his son's relationship with a younger boy would have caused him serious embarrassment had it ever come to light. But Justin doted on Patrick; they were the perfect partnership, or so it appeared. Martin was just a casual sex-partner, someone useful to have around when Patrick wasn't available.

"Come on sir," Martin cooed. "I want to be your boy sir; you can bum me if you want, and you do, don't you sir? Just do it this once, sir. I promise I won't ask you to do it again if you don't want to."

Mike's resistance began to crumble. Martin didn't want to be second prize; he wanted to be someone's first prize, and he was that someone. It was a major dilemma; he didn't want to reject the boy, so why not do it just this once? He was certain Martin wouldn't say anything, so afterwards he could hold the lad to his promise; things would carry on as normal and nobody would be any the wiser.

"Okay, come on," he said quietly.

Mike ushered Martin into the store room, closing the door behind them and locking it from the inside. He checked to make sure that the door out onto the corridor was also locked. He looked around. In one corner was an exam desk, topped by a pile of exercise books. That's what they'd use. He moved the exercise books, pulling the desk away from the wall to give them more space. As he did so, he was surprised to find an old pillow hidden behind it. He picked it up. It was a little grubby but perfectly serviceable. He placed it on top of the desk.

"I'm not sure how this got here," he said quietly, "but it will make things a bit more comfortable for you."

Martin moved into position, his chest resting on the pillow. Mike reached around the boy's waist, undoing the clip at the top of the lad's shorts and pulling down the zip.

"So d'you like having it up the bum?" he asked.

"Oh, yes sir!" Martin breathed.

Mike eased the boy's shorts over his hips, allowing them to fall to the floor. He ran his hands over Martin's bottom, still covered by his soft cotton briefs, and down the backs of his thighs. It brought back such memories; the boy was wonderfully firm and smooth, just like all the young runners he'd fucked. He quickly lowered Martin's underpants, dropping onto one knee as he pushed them down to the boy's ankles, the evidence of Justin's penetration some ten hours earlier right in front of him.

"I've brought some lube, sir" Martin offered. "It's in my shorts."

Mike quickly retrieved the tube of KY, squeezing some onto his fingers. He pushed his index finger into Martin's anus, driving it in till he touched the boy's prostate.

"Ohhhh!!" Martin gasped, his slim penis twitching wildly.

A second finger joined the first. There was little resistance. Mike wasn't surprised; Justin had grown considerably over the summer and was very well developed for a boy who was not quite thirteen. Mike allowed his fingers to slide out. He got to his feet and opened his trousers.

Martin glanced over his shoulder. He swallowed hard. Mr. Thompson was not a big man. Martin had expected the man's penis to be in proportion, maybe around the same size as Ashton's, but it wasn't; it was huge, much the largest he'd seen. There was nothing to be done; he'd asked the man to fuck him; he couldn't back out now.

Mike smeared himself with KY and shuffled into position, guiding his penis onto Martin's sphincter. He pushed hard. After a moment's resistance he slipped inside.

"Aaarrgghhh!!" Martin groaned, his erection disappearing in an instant.

"I'm a bit bigger than you expected, aren't I?" Mike whispered, pressing steadily forward.

"Oh, yes sir!" Martin whimpered, trying desperately to hold back the tears.

Slowly, inexorably, Mike advanced into Martin's rectum, thrusting over the boy's prostate before penetrating deeper than any of the lad's previous partners. Mike took a moment to settle himself, savouring the velvety tightness that was gripping his penis. There was something special about a young boy's bottom, he reflected, a quality that no girl had ever come close to matching. He held the boy around the thighs, easing back several inches. After a momentary pause, he thrust powerfully back in, eliciting another whimper from the slender lad in front of him. Very gradually, like a steam train departing from the platform, he built up the pace until he was fucking the boy with long, even thrusts.

Within a minute, Martin's whimpers were interspersed the moans of pleasure, the boy's penis becoming harder than ever, just as it had when Ashton had taken his virginity, the intense pain gradually overtaken by the indescribable sensations that the man was giving him.

"That's what you wanted, isn't it, Martin?" Mike whispered.

"Oh, yes sir!" Martin repeated, the tingling in his penis so intense he hardly knew where he was.

The man's fingers took hold of his hard little prong, fondling him with a milking action. He bucked violently, his sphincter clamping tight around Mike's invading penis, little jets of boy-cum squirting into the palm of the man's hand.

"Oh, you wanted it all right!" Mike growled.

His hands returned to the boy's legs, gripping him firmly as he redoubled his efforts. After no more than half a dozen thrusts his orgasm overtook him. He plunged his full length into Martin's anus. His penis jerked powerfully, rope after rope of thick, creamy semen spurting deep into the lad's bottom.

Very carefully he withdrew. Martin' anus was wide open, twitching provocatively. The boy farted noisily, semen spluttering out and dribbling down his legs before his sphincter finally closed up.

"I think you enjoyed that, sir," he said.

Mike didn't respond, gently helping Martin to clean up before sending him on his way. Finally alone, Mike wandered back into his classroom and sank into his chair, a dreadful realisation sweeping over him. For four years at university he'd been deprived of the opportunity to have sex with boys, enabling him to settle quite easily into his life as a fully-fledged heterosexual, just as he'd intended. In the six years since leaving university, he had stuck strictly to his chosen path, but Martin had tempted him away, a temptation he'd found impossible to resist. And he'd made the inevitable discovery; having sex with pubescent boys was what he was born for; the sex-life he'd enjoyed over the past six years simply didn't come close.

He sat there, surveying the wreckage. He should have told Martin that he couldn't have sex with him because he'd be betraying his fiancée whom he loved very much. So why hadn't he? Because his desire for sex with the boy had proved the stronger; that was the bottom line. There could be no turning back; he'd have to do it again, and not just with Martin, with other boys too. The genie, he realised, was out of the bottle; he was not going to be able to put it back in.

SEDUCTION IN REVERSE - PART TWO

Everything changed right there. Mike had always been able to watch the boys strip naked and take a shower without any problem. Suddenly it was a problem. He only needed to see one of his runners naked for him to get a raging erection, his mind filled with lustful thoughts as he imagined what he'd like to be doing to the lad. Seeing Patrick was the worst. Patrick was beautiful, absolute perfection in his eyes; he wanted the boy so badly.

Mike wasn't sure if Martin knew; if he did, he apparently didn't care. To Mike's surprise, Martin's attitude in class had improved almost overnight; quite suddenly, he seemed eager to do well, no longer just doing what he had to. More than that, he was running superbly. In response, Mike's feelings for him grew stronger by the day. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, Mike would take the dark-haired lad into the mathematics store room. After the briefest of foreplay, he'd fuck the boy senseless. It was wonderful sex, but Mike needed more, to spend longer with the boy, really get to know him. The store room was not really suitable for that, but Martin was pretty much a loner; the other lads were unlikely to ask where he was or what he was doing. He decided to take a chance.

"After training on Sunday morning, come over to the gatehouse," he suggested. "Come to the Upper Flat. Mr. Chandler's never around at the weekend so nobody will see you. Bring your maths books with you; if anyone asks, I was giving you some extra help."

"Yes sir," Martin said, smiling. "I'll be there!"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Sunday training completed, Mike accompanied his young charges back into the changing room, watching with interest as they stripped off to go into the showers.

"Don't stay in there too long," he told them, "and no fooling about please. Well done today; I'll see you all again tomorrow."

He hurried back to his apartment, had a quick shower then put on a clean tee-shirt and some tennis shorts. He sat down to await Martin's arrival. Five minutes later the doorbell rang. He went to answer it; Martin was standing there, exactly as arranged. Mike shepherded the boy inside, closing the door behind them. He wrapped his arms around the lad, drawing him into a gentle hug.

"I'm glad you came," he said gently.

He leaned forwards. Martin responded instantly, their lips meeting in a delicate, sensuous kiss.

"You do that beautifully," Mike cooed as their lips parted. "Come on; you've got far too many clothes on.

He guided Martin into his bedroom, gently undressing him, right down to his white briefs. He ran his fingers over the front. The boy was as hard as stone. Mike sat on the bed and slowly pulled the underpants down to the lad's ankles, Martin raising one foot at a time, allowing him to remove them completely. And there he was, in all his glorious, delicious nakedness; not the prettiest boy in the team, but possessed of a beautiful body with its uncut, four and a half inch penis and the hairless balls just dropping into place. Mike stroked between Martin's firm, silk-smooth thighs, leaning forward to devour the lad's stiff little spike. He sucked it eagerly, easing back the foreskin and working his tongue over the small, shiny head. He looked up, licking his lips.

"Did you like that?" he asked.

"Yes sir," Martin breathed. "It's much better doing it here, isn't it? I want to undress you now."

Mike allowed the boy to help him off with his tee-shirt. He stood up. Martin knelt in front of him, pulling down his shorts. Mike kicked them off. Martin wrapped his hand around the man's penis, running his fingers along its length.

"You've got an amazing cock, sir," he commented, almost giggling. "I'd never have believed it would be as big as this!"

"And you like it, don't you?" Mike asked provocatively.

"Yes sir," Martin confirmed, holding it around the base and guiding it into his mouth.

"Good boy!" Mike whispered, running his fingers through the boy's short, spiky hair. "Let's get on the bed!"

Moments later, they were snuggled up together, kissing passionately, Martin's penis grinding against Mike's stomach. Mike ran his hands along Martin's back and over his bottom. The boy's slim young body pressed tight against his own was far more of a turn-on than any girl had ever been. Their lips parted.

"That was wonderful," Mike cooed, gently rubbing noses with the boy.

"You do like me, don't you sir?" Martin enquired.

"Of course I like you," Mike said, smiling indulgently. "You're a very special boy."

"Sir," Martin said, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you still going to get married?"

"I'm not sure," Mike responded. "I need to think about that."

"I like you a lot sir," Martin said, moving in to kiss him again.

Mike was in ecstasy, transported to a different world where normal rules didn't apply. It wasn't that he was a novice, far from it. He'd had sex with any number of boys during his final two years at school, but it had never been like this. Since then he'd had sex with girls; that hadn't matched up either, not even with Claire, whom he really cared about. The sensation of Martin's tongue intertwined with his own, the boy's hard penis grinding against his tummy, the aroma of hot, sexy boy flooding his nostrils; there was something special about having a boy who was really his, words simply couldn't describe it.

Without a word being spoken they snaked around into a sixty-nine. The ecstasy continued. Martin's technique was nothing special, but somehow the boy's lack of experience made it seem even more magical. Mike slipped his hand between Martin's legs, fondling the lad's balls and gently stroking his perineum. He squeezed some KY onto his fingers. Locating the boy's anus, he pushed inside. He touched Martin's prostate; the boy's penis twitched sharply, striking the roof of his mouth. He did it again. Martin's body tensed, little jets of boy-cum squirting from his penis. Mike licked it all up, swallowing it eagerly before releasing him. They snuggled up again.

"Mmmmm!! That was delicious!" Mike commented, smiling.

"That was great, sir!" Martin responded, his chest still rising and falling. "Nobody ever did that before. I mean, Justin sucks me, but not all the way."

"So when did Justin fuck you last?" Mike enquired.

"Early this morning," Martin said without a hint of embarrassment. "Sunday mornings are wild; I was in bed with Justin, same as usual; Robert had spent all night bumming William, then just as it was starting to get light, he moved over to Toby's bed and bummed him too; they woke us up. I got really sexed-up watching them, so I asked Justin if he wanted to bum me; he never says no!"

"So you like Justin then?" Mike enquired.

"Oh yes," Martin said. "Justin's great; everyday likes him. He's really sexy too; it's just that . . . , you know."

"Yeah, I know," Mike confirmed.

Mike found it hard to rationalise. He'd enjoyed having sex with the younger boys when he'd been in the sixth form at school, Paul and Anthony especially, but he'd never had the sort of feelings for either of them that he had for Martin. He couldn't explain why; he just hadn't.

"I'm surprised that Toby likes being bummed, "Mike commented, reflecting that it seemed rather at odds with the boy's rather abrasive manner.

"Oh, Toby got into it before any of us," Martin said blandly. "He certainly had an older friend when he was in third year and I think it might have started before that; I'm not sure. Of course Toby's got a younger friend now, little third year kid, been going with him since last year, but it seems he still likes getting bummed; he likes Rob doing it for him anyway. Rob and Toby are really close; they always have been."

"Oh, I see," Mike said, stroking Martin's cheek.

They lay there for a couple of minutes, quietly snuggled up together, not saying a word.

"Martin, what does your dad do?" Mike asked finally.

"Builds electronic equipment," Martin said proudly. "He's got his own business; he's really clever." He paused for a second. "I think he hoped I'd be clever like him; he was a bit disappointed when he found out I wasn't. He'd have liked me to be good at football too, but I'm not; I'm not even that interested."

"I'm sure he just wants you to do your best," Mike said soothingly. "What about your mum? What's she like?"

"Oh, mum's really pretty, and she's a very good cook. Dad often invites people to dinner at our house, you know, people he does business with. They always say how delicious mum's cooking is. I just have to sit there and behave myself; it's boring."

"So what else does your mum do?" Mike asked. "She can't be cooking all the time."

"Oh, she goes out with her friends a lot," Martin said, stretching. "That's why she likes having me away at boarding school; it's easier when I'm not there."

"No brothers and sisters, then?" Mike enquired.

"No, just me," Martin confirmed.

Mike drew Martin a little closer. The boy had a father who was disappointed in him and a mother who didn't want him around, Mike noted; it was hardly surprising that the lad had shown so little interest. Mike rolled onto his back, pulling Martin over on top of him, the boy's penis pressed against his tummy; the lad was rock hard again.

"So what would you like now?" Mike asked.

"I want to suck your dick again," Martin said, grinning. "Then I want you to bum me."

"Sounds good!" Mike whispered, licking Martin's nose.

Martin rolled off onto his side, leaning across to rest his head on Mike's tummy. He held Mike's penis between thumb and forefinger, sliding his lips over the large purple head. Mike lay back, completely at peace, transported to Planet Ecstasy by the warm wetness of Martin's mouth. With his right hand he stroked the boy's hair, his left arm reaching down Martin's back and onto the lad's anus. He inserted one finger, then two. The boy was more than ready.

"Mmmmm!! Tell me what you want," Mike said dreamily.

"I want your cock up my bum, sir!" Martin said.

Mike placed a pillow in the middle of the bed, spreading a towel over it.

"On your tummy," he said quietly.

Martin got into position, the pillow under his hips, his legs spread. Mike knelt between them, smearing KY over his penis. He lowered himself onto the boy, Martin reaching back to hold his cheeks apart. Mike settled his penis onto Martin' sphincter; he pushed hard, penetrating him immediately.

"Ahhhh!!" Martin sighed.

"Is that good?" Mike whispered into Martin's left ear.

"Yes sir," Martin gasped. "I want you right up me."

Mike resumed pushing, his penis slowly disappearing into Martin's bottom. He thrust over the boy's prostate, Martin squeaking excitedly. A few moments later the boy was completely impaled. Mike settled himself, resting on his forearms. He slowly withdrew, leaving just the head of his penis inside. He thrust powerfully back in; Martin whimpered, the man's penis penetrating far deeper than anyone else had been able to. Gradually, Mike established a rhythm, fucking the boy with long, powerful thrusts. He settled himself lower, nuzzling Martin's neck, licking his ear, drinking in the wonderful aroma of freshly showered boy.

Martin moaned and whimpered, the pain from his over-stretched sphincter counterbalanced by the indescribable pleasure produced by the man's penis massaging his prostate. Instinctively, he joined in the action, pushing his hips upwards to meet his teacher's downward thrusts, the tingling in his prong increasing with every stroke. Almost without warning, his breathing shortened, his body gripped by violent spasms. His legs flailed uncontrollably, his fingers clawing helplessly at the mattress. A moment later his balls churned into action, little jets of boy-juice spurting onto the towel.

"Oh yes!!" Mike gasped, gripping the boy's shoulders. "Yes!!!"

His orgasm swept over him. He plunged his full length into Martin's anus, rope after rope of thick, creamy semen flooding into the boy's body, feeling as though it would never stop. Finally it was over. They lay there, motionless, as though frozen in time. Very gently, he withdrew. Martin's anus was stretched and chafed. The boy farted noisily before he had even moved; Mike's semen spluttered out, dribbling down between his legs.

"So was that what you wanted?" Mike asked.

"Oh, yes sir!" Martin breathed. "That was the best ever!"

"It was for me too," Mike whispered. "You're a very special, very sexy boy."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The October half term was just over a week away. The scholarship group was working well, but there was a problem; Dominic was struggling to keep up. Their Friday afternoon class was drawing to a close. An excuse to spend some time alone with Dominic Lees was not one that Mike was going to pass up. With his collar-length chestnut-brown hair and near-perfect features, Dominic was exceptionally cute. He was small for his age, a little smaller than Toby, though that was understandable as Toby had just turned thirteen, while Dominic would not be thirteen for several months.

Mike thought for a moment. The following day Toby and Justin would be away with the rugby team, but the cross-country team didn't have a race. It was perfect.

"Do some work on these during prep," he said gently, "just do what you can. Tomorrow morning, come over to my apartment and we'll go through them. Come over about nine o'clock. Don't worry; you'll be fine as long as you keep putting the work in."

"Thanks sir," Dominic replied, smiling.

"Would it be okay if I came along too?" Craig asked.

Mike hesitated. It certainly wasn't what he'd had in mind, but he couldn't think of any reason to refuse. In any case, it was pretty much an open secret the Craig and Dominic had been sleeping together for more than a year. The relationship was, it appeared, strictly one-way; the tall, athletic Craig was a top, small, pretty Dominic was a bottom.

Mike had also gleaned from Martin that when they'd been in third year, Dominic had been the younger friend of a lad called Russell Pearson, a very good-looking boy that Mike had met while visiting the school prior to taking up his appointment. Russell was an outstanding athlete, and if Martin was to be believed, exceptionally well-endowed for a thirteen year old. Dominic, it appeared, was no stranger to having a large penis inside him. Mike realised that he would need to be very careful, but a threesome with Craig and Dominic would not be an unwelcome prospect.

"Yeah, if you want to," he acknowledged.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike sat on the sofa with the boys either side of him. He concentrated his attention on Dominic; he after all was the one that was having problems, just checking with Craig each time they completed an example that he was happy with it. After around fifteen minutes, things began to click into place.

"Oh, I think I get it now!" Dominic announced, the light finally beginning to dawn.

Mike allowed Dominic to take the lead as they worked through the rest of the exercise. Apart from a couple of minor slips, he did it all perfectly.

"Thanks sir!" he said, smiling at Mike. "I understand it now," the relief at having overcome the problem showing on his face.

"Well done!" Mike said generously, running his hand along Dominic's thigh. "I told you you'd be okay as long as you worked at it."

There was a momentary pause, Mike watching intently as Dominic became instantly aroused, the boy's penis standing up in his shorts. Mike took a deep breath. If Dominic had been there by himself, it would have been straightforward; could he risk going through with it with Craig there as well?

"It seems like there might be something else you need a little help with," he said quietly, gently massaging Dominic's thigh.

"I didn't know you were into that sort of thing, sir," Craig commented.

Mike glanced to his other side. Craig was erect too, the tall lad's erection even more prominent.

"Well, I spent a long time at boarding school," Mike responded. "It does happen, you know."

Craig leaned forwards, looking across at Dominic. Dominic smiled and nodded; the decision was made. Although this was completely unexpected, for Dominic it was unbelievably exciting. Mr. Thompson was not only a wonderful teacher, he was very sexy, looking far younger than his twenty eight years. Craig was excited too, the prospect of having sex somewhere far more private and comfortable than their dorm simply too good to turn down.

Mike guided the boys into the bedroom before helping Craig to divest Dominic of his clothes. As Dominic was neither a runner nor a rugby player, Mike had never previously seen him naked. He was stunningly beautiful, with a slim three and a half inch circumcised penis and the most perfect bottom Mike had ever set eyes on.

To his surprise, the boys then set about undressing him, with Dominic being the one to pull down his jockey shorts.

"Wow! It's big, isn't it, sir?!" the smaller boy commented, unable to take his eyes off the man's penis.

Finally Craig was undressed too. Mike was familiar with the sight of the tall lad's naked body, but touching it was a different matter completely, the boy's thighs hard and smooth, almost like polished marble; he was very sexy. Given the choice, Mike would have fucked them both, but all the indications were that Craig was a virgin. Although Mike would have liked a virgin boy to fuck, Craig was not the one and this was not the day.

Almost inevitably they fell into a game of 'Piggy in the Middle', with Dominic as the pig. They began with Mike sucking on Dominic's penis, while Dominic sucked Craig's. Mike applied some KY to his fingers, pushing his index finger deep into Dominic's anus. There was little resistance, the fact that Dominic was well accustomed to having Craig's five inch penis inside him readily apparent. He pushed in a second finger; the boy didn't even flinch. He forced it in deeper, touching Dominic's prostate, the boy's penis twitching in his mouth.

After a few minutes, Mike and Craig changed places. Dominic sucked eagerly on Mike's penis, his prowess in this department coming immediately to the fore. Within twenty seconds he had taken it right into his throat, his nose buried in the man's golden pubes. At the other end, Craig was getting ready for the final act, manoeuvring Dominic onto all fours, smearing KY over his penis and moving in behind.

Mike snaked around, so that he was lying on his back with his head directly below Dominic's genitals. He watched, completely spellbound, as Craig's penis disappeared completely into Dominic's bottom. He continued to watch as Craig began to fuck, his eyes glued to the action, the vigour of the boy's thrusts increasing with every stroke. It didn't last long. After barely a minute Craig's breathing became harsh and uneven. He gripped Dominic firmly around the thighs. His penis swelled and jerked, depositing boy-spunk in his friend's bottom. After a few seconds, he withdrew, sinking back onto his heels.

"Are you ready for mine now?" Mike whispered.

Dominic nodded nervously. He wanted to do it; he'd missed having a big one inside him, but it was going to hurt, he just knew it was. Mr. Thompson's penis was far bigger than he'd expected; it had been weeks since he'd taken one anywhere like that size. Just after the start of term he and Craig had had a foursome in the woods with rugby captain Robert Shearsby and his younger friend Peter Cranham. Taking Robert's thick six inch penis had left him sore, and Mr. Thompson's was considerably larger than that. Mike pulled a pillow into the middle of the bed.

"Lie on your tummy," he instructed.

Dominic did as he was asked. Mike lubed himself up, lowering himself into position. With one determined thrust he was inside.

"Arrgghhhhh!!" Dominic gasped, his sphincter stretched almost to its limit. "Ooooohhh!!!"

"Good boy!" Mike cooed. "Just relax; I'm going to make you feel really good."

Very steadily Mike continued to press down, his penis slowly advancing until it was completely buried in Dominic's rectum. He paused for a moment, savouring the boy's tight little sheath; concluding that the lad probably hadn't taken anyone's but Craig's in quite some time. He set to his task, fucking the boy with long, steady thrusts.

Dominic lay submissively beneath him. Second by second, the pain ebbed away, masked by the unbelievable sensations coursing through him. Mike redoubled his efforts, thrusting his penis in even harder. Dominic shuddered from head to toe, his hard little spike tingling and jiggling against the pillow. With one final effort Mike was there too, his penis jerking into action, thick wads of semen spurting deep into Dominic's bottom. After almost half a minute to recover his breath, Mike gently withdrew. Dominic's anus was stretched even more than Martin's had been, the area to each side severely chafed.

"Oh, sir! Dominic gasped. "I've got all your spunk inside me! You've cum loads, haven't you sir?"

"I certainly have," Mike whispered. "You've got the tightest little bum I've fucked in a long time!"

Dominic made his way to the bathroom, walking with obvious difficulty, Mike's semen trickling down his legs. He didn't return for more than five minutes. The two boys dressed almost in silence, said a cursory goodbye and made their way out, Dominic still moving rather awkwardly.

Mike returned to his living room, flopping down in his favourite armchair. It had been a fantastic experience with two of the sexiest boys he'd ever met, but he'd obviously left Dominic very sore, which certainly wasn't what he'd intended. It probably meant that there would be no repeat performance, which was disappointing, but he was sure that the boys wouldn't say anything; it just wasn't in their interests to do so. And that, when it came down to it, was what really mattered.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The half term break finally arrived. Mike had already decided to break off the engagement. He wasn't looking forward to telling Claire, but she actually seemed relieved. Since starting at Hartswood, Mike had shown far more interest in the job than he had in her, a situation that Claire had been concerned about for months. So they parted without any of the recriminations that Mike had expected. His mother was disappointed, but that, Mike decided was not his problem. It was his life and it was for him to choose how to live it.

One memory of his prep school days kept coming back to him; Carl Sinclair fucking him in his gym shorts. He wanted to do that; he fantasised endlessly about it. But there was a problem. In the intervening years the cotton shorts of the type that he'd worn had been replaced by nylon ones; all the Hartswood boys wore them. Mike judged that the rough cotton shorts of the type he'd worn would be much better than the more modern type, but acquiring them would not be easy.

He didn't want to try either of the sports shops that he patronised; he doubted that they would have them and it might have led to awkward questions. He looked through the classified telephone directory. He rejected all the sports shops and turned to school outfitters. Almost at the top of the list was Alexander & Sons of East Grinstead, who seemed to stock the school uniform of most of the independent schools in the area. It seemed like just the sort of place that might have what he was looking for.

With time on his hands, he drove the ten miles to the town. He quickly found the shop and went inside. It was like stepping back in time, the shop almost identical to the places he'd been taken for the purchase of his prep school uniform all those years before. He was approached by a middle-aged assistant.

"Can I help you sir?" the man asked respectfully.

"I'm looking for some cotton gym shorts or football shorts for boys between eleven and thirteen," Mike said evenly.

"We don't get much call for those these days," the assistant answered. "I'm not sure if we have any. I'll go and see what I can find."

He hurried off into a store room. He returned five minutes later carrying three boxes.

"These are all we have, sir," he said.

Mike quickly sorted through them. The first box contained shorts that were too large; the second contained three pairs that he judged would fit Martin almost perfectly, the final box containing two pairs of a somewhat smaller size.

"I'll take those and those," Mike said, indicating the second and third boxes.

He paid for the shorts and headed out into the autumn sunshine, looking forward to making use of his purchases.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was the first day back after the half term break. Upper Fourth bottom group had maths directly before lunch. When the class ended, Martin left with the other boys. He wasted a little time by going to the toilets for a piss although he didn't really need to. Stepping back out onto the corridor, all his classmates had gone. He smiled to himself; instead of heading for the refectory or out onto the playground, he slipped back to the classroom. Mike smiled as the boy entered, ushering him into the store room.

"I've been waiting for this, sir," Martin confided, smiling at the man. "I've not done anything all over the holiday"

"So didn't Justin fuck you this morning, then?" Mike enquired.

"No sir," Martin said. "He's got a cold; he said he didn't want to give it to me."

"Oh, really!" Mike said quietly, nuzzling Martin's ear. "Well I haven't done anything either, so I'm really looking forward to getting my cock up your arse. You want that, don't you?"

"Yes sir!" Martin agreed, giggling.

Their foreplay was even briefer than usual. Barely a minute later Martin was bent over the desk, his shorts and underpants around his ankles, Mike's penis thrusting relentlessly into his rectum. The boy whimpered quietly, his sphincter having tightened considerably since the last time the man had penetrated him. He didn't care; painful as it was, the pleasure was even greater, the man's penis driving repeatedly over his prostate.

The intensity built all too rapidly; within a short time Mike felt his orgasm approaching; he reached down, wrapping his hand around Martin's throbbing spike. The boy bucked wildly, little jets of spunk squirting through Mike's fingers. Mike gripped the lad round the thighs, sinking his full length into him. A moment later, his penis reared up, depositing copious amounts of semen deep inside Martin's bottom. After a few seconds, he carefully withdrew.

"Wow, sir!" Martin breathed. "That was incredible! You've filled me right up!"

Mike took the packet of cotton wool from its hiding place, helping the boy to clean up.

"Tomorrow evening, I want you to come to the gatehouse after supper," he said, "so you'll need to make sure you've got your prep done beforehand, okay? There won't be a problem; Mr. Chandler always goes out Tuesday and Thursday evenings. I've got a little surprise for you."

"What's that, sir?" Martin asked.

"You'll find out when you get there, silly!" Mike said playfully, giving the boy a gentle squeeze.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"So what's the surprise, sir?" Martin asked as Mike welcomed him into the apartment.

"Oh, plenty of time for that," Mike replied mysteriously, guiding the boy into his bedroom.

They took their time undressing each other then snuggled up on the bed.

"D'you like coming here?" Mike asked, stroking Martin's hair.

"Of course I do!" Martin replied, his eyes shining. "It's much better than doing it in the store room. Will we be able to do this every Tuesday and Thursday?"

"Yes, if you want," Mike confirmed.

"Cool!" Martin breathed.

Within seconds they were kissing passionately, their tongues intertwined. Mike could hardly believe how affectionate the boy was. Finding a boy to fuck had been wonderful, even if the circumstances had been rather strange. For the boy to kiss as enthusiastically as Martin did was wholly unexpected. Their lips parted.

"I need to say thank you," Mike said cryptically.

"What for, sir?" Martin asked.

"For helping me find myself again," Mike explained. "If it hadn't been for you, I'd have got married next summer; I might even have had kids of my own. But sooner or later I'd have found out what I really wanted. That could have caused a real problem."

"So you're not going to get married then?"

"No, fortunately," Mike said, giving the boy a wry grin. "As it goes my fiancée had already realised that my heart wasn't in it any more; she told me I'd married the job."

"But she doesn't know the real reason, does she?"

Good god, no!" Mike said, smiling. "I don't think she's got a clue about that; there's no reason why she would have."

Martin snuggled up closer pushing his tongue into Mike's mouth, running it all over the man's straight, even teeth. Mike was in ecstasy; though facially rather plain, Martin had a gorgeous body, and his love-making was absolute perfection, the best he'd ever experienced. He ran his hand over the boy's back, firm and silky smooth, pushing his finger along Martin's crack until he located the lad's anus. Martin responded enthusiastically, kissing even more passionately, cocking his leg up to give the man easier access.

Mike squeezed KY onto his fingers, pushing first one then two into Martin's bottom. Martin pulled his head back a few inches.

"Oooh, that's good, sir!" he cooed. "Are you going to give me that surprise now?"

Mike reached under the bed, handing the boy a pair of the cotton football shorts he'd bought.

"Will you put these on for me," he requested.

Martin gave him a slightly odd look but did has he was asked. They fit him beautifully.

"Very sexy!" Mike commented.

"They're a bit scratchy," Martin said.

"That's the whole point; you'll see," Mike told him. "I used to wear shorts like that when I was your age; we didn't have nylon ones then."

Mike stood up, moving the bedside cabinet away from the wall and placing a pillow on top.

"Okay, bend over there!" he instructed.

Martin complied, still unaware of what was to follow. A moment later the man's finger slid up the leg of his shorts and into his anus. A second one quickly followed, the fingers pushing in deeper and deeper. They touched his prostate, his cock twitching sharply against the coarse cotton material. A few seconds later the fingers slid out. Mike's hands went onto the waistband of his shorts, gently easing down. Martin expected them to be pulled right off, but after lowering them a couple of inches, the man stopped. Suddenly, the maths master's penis was up inside his shorts, probing at his sphincter. With one determined thrust Mike got it inside him, pushing it in steadily until the maths master's tummy was pressed tight against his bottom. So this was his surprise!

A moment later Mike began to fuck him. It was the most incredible thing he's ever experienced, the man's penis massaging his sex-button while his throbbing prong rubbed against the rough cotton shorts; it drove him almost delirious. He wanted desperately to make the wonderful feelings last; he remained perfectly still, tried to stay relaxed, but it was hopeless, the tingling in his cock building by the second.

"Sir! he moaned, his breathing harsh and ragged. "I'm gonna cum!!"

"Do it!" Mike ordered.

Martin shuddered violently, his anus clamping tight around Mike's thrusting penis. A moment later his cock jerked sharply, his spunk squirting powerfully into his shorts.

"Yes!" Mike breathed. "Good boy!!"

Martin sank submissively over the cabinet, the maths master's penis fucking him even harder; a few seconds later it reared up, the man's warm, creamy fluid flooding into him. It had been the wildest fuck ever. After a long pause the man's penis slid out.

"Let it go," Mike said quietly.

Martin farted noisily, a large wet patch appearing in the back of his shorts.

"Okay, you can take them off now," Mike said.

Martin stood up.

"I think you enjoyed that," Mike added quietly, wrapping his arm around Martin's chest and licking the boy's ear.

"Oh yes sir!" Martin confirmed, slipping off the soiled shorts and hurrying to the bathroom.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

On the following Saturday, the cross country team took part in the Stansfield Trophy, which attracted schools from all over south east England. It was by far the biggest event that they'd been to. Before the race, Mike was apprehensive; it was six to score, which would stretch their resources more than he would have liked. In the event, the boys ran superbly. In dry conditions on a fairly flat course, Craig was in his element, running with the leaders all the way, before sprinting away over the last hundred metres to take the victory. Martin stayed with him until close to the end, but was let down by his lack of finishing speed, coming home in fourth place. With sixth scorer Mark Anderson finishing just inside the top fifty, they managed third team out of more than twenty schools. It was exactly the sort of confidence boost that the team needed.

The following Saturday was a complete contrast. They were running against four schools from Surrey and Hampshire. The course was by far the toughest they'd encountered, very hilly, and after two rainy days, it was muddy too. After barely half a mile, the tall, long-striding Craig began to struggle with the conditions. Three boys started to get away. Mike knew that Martin was running well enough to have gone with them, but he kept running just behind Craig, just like he always did.

On the positive side, both Jamie and Patrick were running beautifully, revelling in the tough conditions. It seemed that both Jamie and Patrick loved getting wet and dirty. They ploughed through the worst of the mud, completely unperturbed by how filthy they were getting. That Jamie, very much the little tough guy, enjoyed that aspect of the sport was not unexpected, but Mike was very surprised that the gentle, highly intelligent Patrick liked it too.

As the runners approached the finish, Craig out-sprinted Martin for fourth place, with Jamie and Patrick finishing strongly in eighth and ninth. With only four to score, Hartswood won the team race quite comfortably. Craig's performance was no surprise; he was always going to find it hard in those conditions. Martin, however, should have made the top three; he might even have won. He lacked confidence; it was as simple as that. It was something that Mike knew he was going to have to deal with if the lad was ever going to get the best out of himself

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The following morning, Mike and Martin were snuggled up on Mike's bed.

"I was a bit disappointed yesterday," Mike said gently. "You should have beaten Craig; you're running well enough to have made the top three."

"I could tell Craig wasn't going very well," Martin responded, "but when the other boys started to get away from us I didn't know what to do. I know if I stay with Craig I'll be all right, so I did."

"You need to believe in yourself more," Mike said quietly, massaging Martin's back. "Craig's good, but he's always going to struggle on courses like that; it's because of the way he runs. If you can tell he's not going well, you need to take advantage. You can do it!"

"Thanks, sir!" Martin said, smiling. "I'll remember that."

For several minutes, they lay there, kissing and cuddling. After their morning run, it was the perfect way for them to relax together. Finally Martin pulled away.

"Are you going to fuck me in those shorts again?" he enquired.

"Is that what you want?" Mike asked.

"Of course it is!" Martin said, smiling broadly, his eyes sparkling.

"Then that's what you shall have," Mike confirmed.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The last Saturday of November dawned bright, sunny and surprisingly warm for the time of year. It was the traditional date of the Ashdown Relays, a long established race meeting that always attracted a good entry. Mike was uncertain as to how well the Hartswood boys would perform. Recent results had been very encouraging and training had been going well, but they'd never run in a cross-country relay before. It was a different type of racing and he wasn't sure how well they'd adapt to it.

They would run four legs of one and a half miles each, on a course that, though not totally flat had no severe climbs, and given the recent dry weather, would be firm underfoot. His first problem was to get the running order right. As Craig was the only one with genuine finishing speed, he was the obvious candidate to run last; if they were involved in a close finish Craig was the one who could deliver. The danger was that they might be too far adrift by the time Craig took over and his efforts would be wasted. On balance, Mike reckoned it was worth the gamble.

Having decided that, he settled on running Patrick, Martin and Jamie in that order. It was something of a stab in the dark, but it was the best he could come up with. He briefed the boys.

"Your job is to keep us as close to the front as you can," he said to Patrick. "The position's irrelevant, the idea is to be within half a minute of the leaders when you hand over; if you can do that we'll be in pretty good shape."

Patrick nodded his understanding. He moved on to Martin.

"If all goes according to plan, when you take over, you'll have runners lined up in front of you. Just settle into your running then steadily pick them off. Remember you've got a mile and a half to run; you don't need to get them all in the first half mile. I'm looking for us to be right up there by the time you hand over to Jamie."

After similar briefings to Jamie and Craig, and words of encouragement to their 'B' team, it was time to warm up. At quarter past ten, the under-thirteens race was under way, with thirty one teams representing eighteen different schools. With half the lap completed, Patrick was back in fifteenth place and already fifteen seconds behind the leaders, but typically he finished strongly, moving through to tenth and only twenty seven seconds off the lead. It was exactly the start Mike had hoped for.

Martin set off with runners spread out at intervals in front of him. Mike was apprehensive; How well would the boy pace his effort, he wondered; if he went off too quickly he could struggle towards the end, too slowly and he'd leave himself too much to do. His fears proved unfounded; Martin paced it beautifully, steadily closing down on one opponent after another. As he turned towards the finish, he'd moved into second place, coming through just two seconds off the lead.

Mike was unconcerned about Jamie; even though he was giving away two years to most of his opponents, he was a talented runner and as hard as nails. He did his job exactly as expected, handing over to Craig in sixth place. Leaders King Edward's Grammar School were already out of sight, but the other teams were all within catching distance.

Craig started steadily but halfway around the lap he began to reel in his opponents. With a quarter of a mile left he moved into third place; some two hundred yards from the finish he closed down on the boy in second. They ran shoulder to shoulder until they were only eighty yards left. Finally, Craig unleashed his trademark sprint finish, leaving the other boy trailing behind. They'd taken the silver medals, a splendid result for an excellent morning's work.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Sunday was another beautiful autumn day. As they undertook their morning training run, the spirit among the squad was at an all-time high. They were working hard and running well; to be out there running through the English countryside on such a beautiful morning was a pleasure and a privilege, it was hardly like work at all.

With training concluded, Mike hurried back to the gatehouse to await Martin's arrival. They had something extra to look forward to; the international races that had taken place the previous afternoon were being shown on television. They would sit together on the sofa to watch them, simply enjoying being close to each other. It would be an opportunity for Martin to learn more about the sport.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang. When Mike answered it, he was surprised to find that Martin had brought Patrick with him. He invited the boys inside.

"Would you like a drink?" he enquired.

"Orange, please," Martin said.

Patrick nodded in agreement. Mike headed to the kitchen beckoning Martin to follow him.

"What's he doing here?" Mike asked quietly. "Is he okay. . . , you know?"

"Oh, it's cool," Martin assured him. "I told you; Justin fucks him all the time, and I know you like him."

"Fine, but just take your time," Mike said. "Don't rush anything."

On the television, the women's race was about to begin. They sat on the sofa, Martin in the middle with Patrick on his left and Mike on his right. Mike told them a bit about who the various runners were, but his concentration was severely tested by having Martin snuggled right up to him, the boy's leg pressed tight against his own. Patrick, by contrast, was leaning forwards, completely absorbed in watching the races.

As the women's race approached its climax, Martin reached across, running his hand over Mike's erect penis. Before Mike was able to stop him, the boy pulled his shorts and underpants down below his knees, exposing his slim young cock. He grabbed Mike's hand, placing it on his now naked thigh. Not content with that, Martin spread his legs so that his left thigh was rubbing against Patrick's right one.

At first, Patrick didn't react. Martin put his left hand on the younger boy's leg, just below his shorts. Patrick looked across at him.

"Stop it!!" he shouted, a look of alarm on his face.

"Martin, pull your shorts up," Mike said quietly.

Martin did as he was told. The three of them sat and watched the men's race without another word being spoken, the atmosphere so tense you could almost feel it. As soon as the race was over, Patrick made his excuses and left; it was obvious he was upset. After seeing him out, Mike returned to the living room. Martin was still sitting on the sofa; Mike flopped down next to him.

"I thought you said it was cool," Mike reproached. "Had you actually asked him?"

"Well, not really," Martin admitted nervously. "But I know he loves getting bummed so I just thought he'd be okay with it.

"Martin, you can't make assumptions like that," Mike said gently. "Having sex with someone your own age or a bit older is completely different from doing it with someone like me. If Patrick starts telling everyone what happened I could be in a lot of trouble; I might even have to leave."

Martin didn't reply. Mike looked across. Tears were rolling down the boy's cheeks.

"I'm sorry sir," Martin said disconsolately. "I've screwed things up, haven't I? I know you like Patrick; I thought you'd be pleased."

"You made a mistake, that's all," Mike said softly. "So now we're just going to have to hope for the best."

"Yes sir," Martin said, nodding.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

For the rest of the day Mike couldn't settle to anything. Things had been going so well, but in an instant all his fears about teaching in a school like Hartswood had been realised, and pretty soon the story would be all round the school. He couldn't decide what he ought to do, resign or wait to be kicked out. He spent a sleepless night, going into school the following morning feeling tense and irritable.

Once he was back teaching again, his mood improved; the boys' enthusiasm relieving the tension. Even so, he kept looking up at the classroom door, expecting at any moment to be summoned to John Halford's office, or even the headmaster's, but by morning break nothing had happened. After break he'd be teaching Lower Fourth top group; Patrick would be there.

As the boys trooped into the room, Mike's heart was in his mouth, but to his surprise everything seemed completely normal. It seemed that none of Patrick's friends knew what had occurred. Patrick himself was a little quieter than usual, but he answered questions when asked and generally behaved much as he always did. Was it possible, Mike wondered, that Martin's little escapade was not going to have such dire consequences after all? It was far too early to get his hopes up, he told himself. He felt certain that Patrick would have told someone, and so the story would filter out sooner or later.

Mike was in his classroom preparing for the afternoon when music master Richard Burman bustled in.

"I have an important matter I need to discuss with you," the man said in his impeccable cut-glass accent. "You live in the gatehouse, the upper flat I believe? Would it be convenient if we met there a little after five?"

"Yes, that'll be fine," Mike said, completely taken aback by this turn of events.

So was that it, Mike speculated as the music master left the room? He knew that Patrick was an accomplished musician; had he confided in Mr. Burman? It all seemed very odd, and exactly why the man wanted to talk to him remained a mystery.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike returned to the apartment at ten to five. He spent a few minutes tidying the place while he waited for Richard Burman to arrive. At five past five the doorbell rang. Mike welcomed Richard inside.

"Thank you for seeing me like this," the music master said. "I hope you don't mind, but I've invited Jim Cooper to join us. This was his apartment when he first started here, you know. Now I'm assuming you know why I'm here; as I understand it, there was something of a contretemps here yesterday morning involving Patrick Naylor and Martin Greenhall."

"Well, I guess you could put it like that," Mike conceded. "I guess Patrick must have told you."

"Oh dear me no!" Richard protested. "I wish he had; Patrick keeps our relationship on a very professional level, I'm sorry to say. No, he told his older friend, Justin Armstrong, who relayed it to Robert Shearsby who is in charge of the boys' 'unofficial activities'. Robert's close friend and confidant came to see me about it because he knew that I'd know what to do."

"Oh, I see," Mike said, rather nonplussed by how convoluted everything was.

The doorbell rang a second time, and Jim Cooper joined them.

"I suppose you've come to tell me I ought to resign," Mike said.

"Absolutely not!" Jim said. "You've made a tremendous contribution in the short time you've been at the school; the boys would be devastated if you left."

"But surely the story's bound to come out," Mike protested.

"There's no reason why it should," Richard assured him. "Only a handful of people know, and none of them is going to say anything. We just want to give you a few tips about how we do things here so that unfortunate incidents like this don't happen again. I have to say that the situation is partly my fault. When you first came here Gordon mentioned to me that he thought you might have similar interests to Jim and myself, but when I spoke to you, you told me that you were engaged to be married. I also spoke to some of my musicians. They told me that you were a superb teacher, in marked contrast to your predecessor, I have to say, but there was no hint of anything like that. So I just assumed that Gordon had got it wrong for once and rather took my eye off the ball."

"So what made Gordon suspect I might . . . , you know," Mike asked.

"Oh, Gordon's very good at spotting wandering eyes," Richard said grandly. "And you'd been right through the system, of course. It's unlikely that a boy as good looking as you must have been could have spent ten years at boarding school without some experiences of that sort."

"But he still appointed me?" Mike queried.

"Oh, Gordon needs teachers like us if he's going to make this school as successful as he wants it to be," Richard said. "We're the ones that will put in the time. We do it because we love boys, not just for sex; we love being with them, helping them, opening their eyes to new worlds, new possibilities. Gordon's quite happy for us to indulge our sexual desires as long as we keep to his rules; it must all be totally consensual, it should be essentially monogamous and it must all be done with total discretion. The same applies to relationships between the boys."

"Oh, I see," Mike said, nodding.

"Incidents like yesterday morning could cause a great deal of embarrassment and make things difficult for everybody," Jim Cooper explained. "You just have to be a little more careful. You've got Martin, who's improved out of all recognition these past few weeks, thanks to you. You've got a big job there; you need to stick to it, finish what you've started."

"I have a boy, so does Jim" Richard continued. "We commit ourselves to helping the boy make the best of himself, right up to the day he leaves. That's what you have to do."

"I will," Mike said. "Martin's a great kid; I get a lot of satisfaction from seeing how much he's improving."

"So how did that start?" Richard asked. "It does seem an odd choice, I must say."

"Oh, Martin picked me, not the other way round," Mike said, smiling. "I gave up sex with boys when I left school. I got into girls as soon as I started at uni; I was engaged to be married, as I told you. Even when I was appointed here I was determined not to go back to it. I never did anything for over a year, as you know, but Martin had other ideas. In the end I just couldn't say no."

"Well, I must be going," Richard said briskly. "I'm sure Jim will fill you in on anything else you want to know."

Mike showed him out, returning to the living room where Jim was still sitting in the armchair.

"You may need to pick Martin up a bit the next time you see him," Jim said. "By now he'll have been spoken to by Robert Shearsby, so he'll probably be feeling a bit bruised. Robert commands the respect of every boy in the school, very firm and totally fair, but he doesn't stand any nonsense. He's descended from five generations of infantry officers; it's the way he's been brought up."

"I'll make sure I do that," Mike said. "Martin's great, but his confidence is still pretty fragile; I don't want him going backwards."

"And one other thing," Jim said. "You don't have to be completely monogamous. You can have a bit on the side, but if you do, you must keep it very quiet. I find before breakfast is a good time; there's nobody about then. Inviting all and sundry over here is definitely not a good idea."

"Thanks," Mike said, smiling. "I'll remember that."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The following evening Martin arrived at the apartment. He looked very nervous.

"I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," Mike said, drawing the boy into a gentle hug. "It's all being kept quiet so we can draw a line under it and move on, okay?"

"I spoke to Patrick after training," Martin said, "apologised to him. He was cool about it."

"Well done," Mike said. "I'm pleased you did that; it takes courage to apologise. And I want you to know this. I don't care how beautiful Patrick is or anyone else for that matter; you're my boy and you'll carry on being my boy right up to the day you leave, if that's what you want."

"Of course it's what I want," Martin said.

He melted into Mike's arms, their lips meeting in a wonderful, passionate kiss.

SEDUCTION IN REVERSE PART THREE

They had one more race before the Christmas holidays. The weather was dry, the course fairly flat and firm underfoot; Craig ran superbly, giving Martin no chance to beat him. After the break, opportunities would come, Mike felt certain of that.

Returning after the holiday Mike was not surprised to find that Martin had been out running four times each week, while Craig had only run three times in total. The first Saturday back was county championship day; they were entered to run against clubs and schools from all over Sussex on a course near Burgess Hill, not one that Mike was familiar with.

In the days leading up to the race the weather was mild but showery. They arrived at the course to find that not only was it very hilly, in places it was a complete mud-bath. With Sussex being a largely rural county, the field for the under-13's race was not large; teams from seven clubs and two schools, including Hartswood, plus a few individual entries, fewer than sixty boys in total. Mike was unsure how high the standard would be, but he knew that the Hartswood boys were running well. If they performed to the best of their ability, they were in with a chance of at least getting team medals. He took Craig to one side.

"I know this isn't your sort of course," he said gently. "You may not win, but you've got an important job to do for the team, so get stuck in and do your best, okay?"

"Sir," Craig responded.

Mike moved away, strolling across to where Martin was doing some stretching exercises.

"You've got a chance today," he said. "You're running better than ever and this course will suit you. Don't worry about Craig; give it a go and see what you can do."

Martin nodded but said nothing. A few minutes later they lined up at the start. The gun sounded and they were away. As they ran around the playing field area a group of five boys established themselves at the front, Martin, Craig and three others. After a quarter of a mile they swung left handed and attacked the first climb, the five leaders building a gap ahead of the rest of the field. Mike counted his other runners through. Jaimie was ninth, Patrick thirteenth and John Mitchell nineteenth. It was a decent start.

They disappeared into the woods, emerging a couple of minutes later. The leading group was down to four but Craig was still with them. They headed downhill then ran fifty yards through a quagmire before swinging back across the playing field and out onto a second longer lap. As they climbed back towards the woods the leading group broke in two. Martin and a boy from the Horsham club got away, leaving Craig and a lad from Brighton disputing third place. Mike counted his boys through again; Jamie had moved up to eighth, Patrick to eleventh and John to eighteenth, with the others all well inside the top forty.

The leaders emerged from the woods, the gap back to Craig and the Brighton boy having grown to fifty yards. They hurtled downwards, Martin and the boy from Horsham still locked together. Mike trotted across, shouting encouragement. As they reached the bottom and ploughed through the mud Mike noticed a steely determination in Martin's face that he'd never seen before, as though the boy realised that this was his chance and was going to make the most of it.

This time they turned right handed, heading uphill again. Mike stood at the bottom as the rest of the runners came through. Craig was hanging on gamely, still disputing third place with the Brighton lad.

"Well done Craig!" Mike shouted. "Just hang in there; not far to go now!"

Jamie was still in eighth place, but Patrick had moved through to ninth, closing down rapidly on his younger team mate. As long as they kept it going, team medals were assured, Mike reckoned; they might even win it. That would be tough for either Jamie or Patrick; the race was only three to score, so one of them would miss out on a medal, despite having run superbly.

The leaders reached the top of the climb, turning left along the ridge before beginning the long, sweeping descent that would bring them back to the finish. Martin's opponent finally faltered, no longer able to stay with the relentless pace that the Hartswood boy was setting; within a few seconds Martin was ten yards clear. He powered on remorselessly, crossing the line seventy yards ahead of the Horsham boy. Behind them, Craig out-sprinted the Brighton lad to take third, Patrick completing the count in seventh place, having overtaken both Jamie and the boy in front of him. With a score of only eleven points they'd won the team race by a big margin.

As Mike trotted across to the boys and collected their finishing discs, he was overcome by emotion. The race had presented the team with their toughest test to date, and they'd come through it brilliantly.

"That's the hardest thing I've ever done," Craig gasped, looking totally shattered.

"But you did it; you hung on," Mike responded. "You showed real guts out there."

"Well he ran at Stansfield," Craig explained, still struggling for breath "so I knew I could beat him, but it was much harder here."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, races for the older boys and the seniors, the presentations and finally the journey back to school. Mike was immensely proud of what they'd achieved; none of his own successes as a runner had ever meant as much to him as this did.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The Sunday morning training run was little more than a gentle trot out into the country. It had been a brutally hard race; what the boys needed was to get their legs moving and ease the stiffness out of their muscles. The spirit among the team was right back to where it had been after the Ashdown Relays, but there was one difference; Martin had just become the star runner. Before he's been thought of as just another member of the team; now he was county champion, and that mattered.

Back in the changing room Mike collected the medals so that they could be presented again at assembly the following morning, something John Halford always liked to do. Before they left, he gathered the younger boys together.

"I can see that some of you lads are rather in awe of Martin after his performance yesterday," he said quietly. "The thing that I want you to remember is that when he started he was no better than most of you. So stick at it and do what I ask you to do and by this time next year some of you could be running as well as he is."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The following morning, Mike went to the deputy head's office, taking the medals and the trophy with him.

"That's a great achievement," John Halford said enthusiastically. "I've seen how much work everyone's put in. I'm especially pleased to see Martin doing so well; it just shows what hard work can do."

At assembly John bought the cross-country team onto the stage to present the medals in front of the whole school. He made a point of telling everyone that Martin, who had never been one of the school's stars, had found something he was reasonably good at, worked hard and achieved something very special as a result. It was the proudest moment of Mike's life.

At lunchtime, Richard Burman came to Mike's classroom.

"Well done!" he said warmly. "You've worked very hard with those boys; I'm delighted for you. How does it feel, for your boy to achieve something like that?"

"It's the best feeling in the whole world," Mike told him.

"And that, dear boy, is why we do it," Richard said, smiling broadly.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The reaction among the boys was overwhelming; there were congratulations from everyone. Martin went from being one of the school's mediocrities to being considered as someone to be looked up to and respected; it was a remarkable transformation. Something else happened as well; in class Martin was working harder than ever, and not just in maths, in everything. There was a new found confidence about him, something he'd never had before.

"I hope you're not going to get big headed," Mike said gently as they lay snuggled up on his bed.

"Oh, I don't think you'd let me do that," Martin said, stifling a giggle. "I mean, it was only a little race I won, wasn't it?"

"You're quite right about that," Mike told him. "You've only just scratched the surface of what you're capable of. But I'm very pleased to see how hard you've been working lately; everybody's commented on it."

"Well, I sort of understand now," Martin said. "You know, if I work really hard at something, I can do it, maybe not straight away, but eventually I will."

"I'm so proud of you," Mike whispered, drawing the boy into a gentle hug. "You've got it exactly. And that's such an inspiration for the other boys; they think 'if he can do it, I can do it too'."

"D'you think I'll be able to get into one of the good senior schools, sir?" Martin asked.

"I'm sure you can," Mike responded, "but the important thing is that you're giving yourself every chance."

"Actually, sir, I've got something to tell you," Martin said, snuggling closer. "Jamie asked me if he could be my friend."

"Wonderful!" Mike cooed. "I take it you said yes."

"You bet I did!" Martin replied, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Jaime's great; I never thought I'd have a younger friend."

"Well just make sure you look after him," Mike said, stroking Martin's hair.

"I will, sir," Martin assured him. "I was wondering, sir; on Sundays could I come here after lunch instead of straight after training?"

"So you and Jamie can get together down in the pavilion?" Mike enquired.

"Yes sir."

"Yeah, that's fine," Mike said, nuzzling Martin's ear. "I'm delighted you've found someone."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike's life continued as busily as ever. The cross-country team had recruited a new member. Alan Scott was in Upper Fourth. He'd always trained with the rugby team but hadn't got a game. Jim Cooper had given him permission to switch. He slotted into the middle of the group, not a star but a useful member of the squad.

The Common Entrance and Scholarship Examinations were approaching rapidly. In a strange way Mike felt under less pressure than he had the year before. The boys were very well prepared; all he needed to do was to make sure that they kept working hard and didn't get complacent.

The one boy that was causing him problems was Gavin McIntyre; the boy just couldn't sit still. The only way that Mike could contain him was to give him lots of simple work to do, short exercises that Gavin could do in no more than five minutes without having the think too much. After each exercise Gavin would rush out to have it marked then Mike would give him another one.

It worked to the extent that it kept the boy occupied and stopped him disrupting the other lads, but it was hardly satisfactory. Gavin was bright, but when Mike had tried giving him some more difficult work he had quickly become frustrated and started misbehaving. The boy was a handful; there was no question about it. The paradox was that he was one of the nicest kids Mike had ever met. It seemed that he didn't mean to be naughty; he just was.

It was Wednesday morning, the period before break; Mike's third year bottom group class was drawing to a close. Gavin had been bouncing around even more than usual; Mike had been at full stretch to keep the boy in his seat. Mike had noticed something else too; every time Gavin had come out to have his work marked, he'd had a hard bulge sticking up in his shorts. Mike was fascinated. Gavin wasn't a pretty boy, pencil slim with a shock of unruly sandy coloured hair and a face covered in freckles, but he was precociously sexy. He was the younger friend of Marcus Northam who'd joined the school in Upper Fourth the previous September. Since the incident in with Patrick, Mike hadn't had sex with anyone but Martin. An occasional assignation with Gavin would be more than welcome.

Gavin rushed to Mike's desk to have his latest exercise marked. It was untidy but all correct. Mike checked his watch; the bell would go in less than two minutes. He glanced across; the boy still had a raging erection. He didn't usually set the lad another exercise so late in the class, but Gavin's poor behaviour more than justified making an exception.

"As you've made such a nuisance of yourself today, you can do this," Mike said, handing the boy another work card. "And I want it finished before you go."

Gavin hurried back to his desk and set to work. When the bell sounded for break he was barely halfway through.

"Everyone except Gavin may put their books away and leave quietly," Mike instructed.

The other boys packed up their books and filed out, leaving Gavin behind. A little over a minute later Gavin was striding out to Mike's desk, a characteristically cheeky grin on his face. Mike checked the boy's work, which once again was one hundred per cent correct. He looked across. Gavin was tall for an eleven year old, his long, slim legs making his grey school shorts seem even briefer than they did on most of the boys, the hard bulge still very much in evidence. It was too good an opportunity to miss.

"You've been very animated this morning," Mike commented. "Why was that?"

"Don't know sir," Gavin said, shrugging.

"Oh, I think I know," Mike responded. "Come with me."

He guided the boy into the store room. Standing behind, he put has arm around Gavin's waist, running his hand over the front of the boy's shorts.

"You're a very naughty boy, aren't you Gavin?" Mike whispered.

"Yes sir," Gavin responded, turning his head to grin up at the man.

Mike turned Gavin to face him, opening the lad's shorts. They fell to the floor. Mike dropped onto one knee, quickly pulling down the boy's underpants, exposing his stiff three inch penis.

"Cute little cock!" Mike cooed, leaning forward to take it into his mouth.

He slipped his hand between Gavin's legs, gently massaging the boy's firm, silky smooth thighs, moving slowly upwards until his finger encountered the boy's anus. He pushed inside. To his surprise, Gavin flexed his knees, allowing the finger to slide right into him.

"You've been getting well fucked, haven't you?" Mike growled.

"Yes sir," Gavin said.

"Well, why don't you find out what I've got for you?" Mike asked, getting to his feet.

Gavin undid Mike's belt and the front of his trousers before kneeling down to pull down the man's jockey shorts. He ran his fingers over Mike's rampant penis.

"Wow, sir!" he gasped, his eyes widening. "It's even bigger than Mr. Cooper's!"

"I don't think you should have said that," Mike said, smiling.

"Why not, sir?" Gavin queried, giggling. "I mean, you're not going to say anything, are you?"

Mike allowed himself a chuckle; the boy was right of course. It wasn't too much of a surprise; Gavin was one of Jim Cooper's protégés, an obvious candidate for being the games master's 'bit on the side'.

"Suck it!" Mike ordered.

Gavin complied readily, pushing further down each time until his nose was pushing into Mike's golden pubes.

"Good boy!" Mike breathed, revelling in the sensations that Gavin was providing.

"I love big cocks," Gavin said, giving him a cheeky grin. "Are you going to bum me?"

"Of course I am!" Mike responded.

He helped the boy to his feet, positioning him over the desk. He took the tube of KY, squeezing some onto his fingers. He pulled Gavin's cheeks apart, the boy's anus showing all the evidence of frequent penetration. He slid in one finger, then two.

"Come on sir," Gavin groaned. "I want your cock!"

Mike quickly moved into position. With one hard thrust he entered the boy, his penis spearing right into him.

"This is what you get for being naughty, isn't it Gavin?" he breathed.

"Oh, yes sir!" Gavin moaned. "Oooooh!!"

The maths master set to work, determined to make the most of this unexpected opportunity. Despite all the action he'd been getting, the boy was still beautifully tight; the sensations were exquisite.

Gavin whimpered quietly. Mike's penis was the largest he'd taken, opening him up even further than Jim Cooper's had done. It slammed repeatedly over his prostate, the combination of pain and pleasure so intense he hardly knew where he was. After a couple of minutes, the man's fingers wrapped themselves around his throbbing cock, gently masturbating him.

"Ohhh, sir!" he gasped, bucking wildly, his sphincter clamping tight around the man's thrusting penis.

A moment later his cock sprang into action, swelling and jerking in the man's hand.

"Oh yes!" Mike rasped, his breathing harsh and ragged. "Now take my spunk!"

He gripped Gavin around the hips as several ropes of thick creamy semen spurted into the boy's bottom. After several seconds he gently withdrew. Gavin quickly dressed himself as though nothing had happened.

"So when d'you see Mr. Cooper?" Mike asked.

"Tuesday mornings sir," Gavin told him.

"Before breakfast, I suppose," Mike said.

"Yes sir," Gavin confirmed. "I have to get to his office for ten past seven."

"Very good," Mike said. "Well Thursday mornings you've got an appointment here, same time, starting tomorrow. Don't be late."

"I'll be here sir," Gavin assured him.

Mike stood and watched as Gavin made his way out, heading towards the toilets with semen seeping into his underpants.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Gavin's Thursday morning visits quickly became part of Mike's routine. The first time that the boy arrived he was surprised to find him wearing gym shorts instead of underpants; it was a bonus he hadn't expected. Although he was totally dedicated to Martin, having a sexy boy like Gavin, and being able to fuck him in his little white shorts, certainly spiced things up, even if it was only once a week.

He was tempted to take things further, to invite the boy to the apartment, give him a pair of the cotton shorts to wear and fuck him in those, maybe even have a threesome with him and Martin, but he decided against it; he couldn't afford another mistake. Gavin would be his bit on the side, just as he was for Jim Cooper.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The examinations were over. The scholarship boys still had 'O' level maths to tackle in the summer, but for Upper Fourth the pressure was off. Even so, Mike kept them all working, determined to ensure they were as well prepared as possible for what they would face at public school.

The cross-country team had one further challenge to face, the annual Prep Schools' Championships. Everything was in place. Each school was allowed up to six runners, the positions of the first four to finish determining the score. With Martin, Craig, Patrick and Jamie all running well, it was the format that suited them best; Mike reckoned that they could challenge for medals if they all ran well.

With just over a week to go, disaster struck. Jamie got the flu. It wasn't just a heavy cold; it was definitely the flu; he was confined to bed and had to be moved from his dorm into the school infirmary, which was a very rare occurrence. Even if he was up and about by the time of the race, there was no possibility that he'd be able to run.

It was a major disappointment. Martin and possibly Craig might still challenge for individual honours, but in a race with over three hundred runners, John Mitchell, their next best runner, was likely to finish at least fifty places behind where Jamie would have been, which would put team medals out of reach. At morning break Mike wandered along to the staff room and slumped in a chair feeling thoroughly dejected. He'd put on a brave face for the boys, encouraging them to finish as high up as they could, but it should have been so much more.

A few minutes later, Jim Cooper strolled in, sitting down next to him.

"Are you okay?" he enquired. "You look like you've got the troubles of the world on your shoulders."

"Not really," Mike said, giving him a wry grin. "Just a bit disappointed, that's all; we've lost Jamie for the Prep Schools' Championships. I thought we might have challenged for medals, but we're not going to do that without him; John Mitchell's our next best and he's not in the same league."

"Hmm, that is disappointing," Jim said sympathetically. "When's the race?"

"Next week, Wednesday afternoon; Jamie may well be up and about by then, but he definitely won't be fit enough to run."

"You can borrow Evan Williamson," Jim suggested. "He won't let you down and it's obviously not depriving anyone else of a place."

"Will he want to do it?" Jim asked. "I don't know him that well; I wouldn't want him to think he was being dragooned into it."

"He'll jump at the chance," Jim said, smiling, "and he can run all day. In the last ten minutes of a match when everyone else is tired, he'll still be running as fast as he was at the beginning."

"But haven't you got another rugby match on the Saturday after the race?" Mike asked.

"Yes, but you needn't worry about that," Jim said. "We've done our work; the team's not going to improve in the last week of the season. I'll let him off training Monday and Tuesday to make sure he's fresh for the race. He's as tough as they come; he'll be fine again by the Saturday."

"Thanks Jim," Mike said quietly. "I really appreciate you helping us out like this."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After Mike's next Lower Fourth top group class, Evan and Patrick came to see him.

"Mr. Cooper's spoken to me sir," Evan said, "about running in the Prep Schools' Championships."

"So would you like to do it?" Mike asked.

"Yes sir!" Evan said, his eyes lighting up. "I never thought I'd get a chance to run in anything like that! Patrick says it's going to be a really big race."

"Very big," Mike confirmed, "sixty odd schools and around three hundred and fifty runners."

"Wow!!" Evan said, grinning at Patrick.

"Evan's really good sir," Patrick said enthusiastically. "When we had the trial race before you started the team, Evan won it by miles!"

"But you've improved a lot since then," Evan said. "I'm not sure I could beat you now."

"Jamie and Patrick usually finish quite close together," Mike said gently, "So you can use Patrick as a marker; if you can run with him you'll do okay. The important thing is that you don't go off too fast; if you do you'll really suffer."

"Sir," Evan asked, frowning slightly, "I'm not taking a place off somebody else, am I? You know, one of the regular runners."

"You needn't worry about that," Mike said, smiling. "Mark Anderson was first reserve and I've already had a word with him about it. He's more than happy for you to run.

"Thanks sir," Evan said, grinning again.

"Okay, off you go!" Mike said. "You'll be late for your next class."

The two boys made their way out looking like they'd just become best friends. Mike smiled to himself; it was good to see that.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The weather on race day was set fair; moderately warm, watery sunshine and very little wind. The race was to be held on a course in Buckinghamshire. It was a good two hour drive, much the furthest they'd travelled. They were joined for the trip by Justin Armstrong and Toby Redman. They'd asked Mike's permission a couple of days earlier. Mike had agreed on the proviso that they worked as the team's bag men, transporting tracksuits and training shoes from the start to the finish. In truth he was pleased to take them along. They were both members of his scholarship class, a task at which they had both worked tremendously hard, and he knew that Patrick would appreciate having his older friend there to support him. With Jamie fit to travel though not to run, the minibus had its full complement of fifteen boys.

They arrived at the course just over an hour before the race. They would run two laps of about a mile each. The course had a bit of everything, some fast running, a stream crossing, one really muddy section and two major climbs, a long steady one away from the start and a short, steeper one later in the lap. During the build-up to the race Mike tried to stay as relaxed as he could, determined not to let the boys see how tense he was. Toby and Justin did their job to perfection, staying in the background and allowing the boys in the team to focus on the task ahead.

With a little over five minutes to go they made their final preparations. Evan was using Aaron Starmer's spikes because the ones he'd worn the previous summer no longer fit him. Mike made sure that they were on firmly; he didn't want the boy losing a shoe in the mud.

"Two minutes!" the starter boomed through his megaphone.

Mike checked that all the boys had their competitors numbers properly attached before they lined up in their pen, Martin, Craig, Patrick, Evan, John Mitchell and Alan Scott. As Justin and Toby took the sacks containing the lads' tracksuits and trainers across to the finish area, Mike ducked under the rope and ran alongside the course, up towards the first corner some three hundred yards from the start. Just as he got there, the gun sounded. The race was on!

As the boys passed him, he could see that Martin and Craig were right up with the leaders, but the field was so tightly bunched it was impossible to see anyone else. He sprinted across the course, heading towards the stream crossing. As the boys ran downhill, he could see Martin and Craig still in the leading group. He spotted Evan running in around thirtieth place, with Patrick more than a dozen places behind. It wasn't quite the way he'd planned it; he just hoped Evan wouldn't struggle too badly later in the race.

"Great stuff lads!" he called, shouting himself hoarse. "This is fantastic running!"

As the boys headed onto the shorter climb, he ran through stream, crossing it a few yards to the right of the course, and headed diagonally uphill, aiming the meet them close the top of the descent. He reached his vantage point just as the leaders turned towards him, plunging downhill again. Martin was still right there, Craig now a few yards adrift in sixth place.

"Well done, Martin" he shouted. "Well done Craig! Hang on there; you can do it!"

He waited a few seconds. Evan and Patrick came through much closer together, both in the mid thirties. After a steady start, Patrick was picking up places just like he always did. Evan on the other hand was beginning to slip back. With more than a mile still to run, that was a worry. John and Alan were still running up hill a hundred yards and at least fifty places behind. Mike shouted the boys on then took off again.

The remainder of the race was almost a blur. On the second lap a tall, dark haired lad broke away at the top of the steep climb, opening a gap in what seemed like no time. Martin was still in contention for a medal and Craig, though obviously tiring, was hanging on for a top ten finish. Characteristically, Patrick was edging his way through and was up into the low thirties.

It all depended on Evan. It was clear that the lad was desperately tired, but his guts and determination were seeing him through; with barely half a mile to go he was running just outside the top forty. It was the best Mike could have hoped for. After waiting for John and Alan to come through, he trotted across to the finish area. Martin and Craig were already there, shortly to be joined by Patrick and Evan. He collected their finishing discs; Martin third, Craig tenth, Patrick thirty first and Evan forty fourth. With a score of eighty eight points, they were in with a chance.

John and Alan finally emerged from the finish funnel and wandered across to join the rest of the boys. John had finished a respectable ninety eighth, Alan a somewhat disappointing one hundred and thirty ninth, his lack of training and experience having taken its toll. Mike completed the results envelope sending Justin to hand it to the recorder. As they prepared to leave the finish area, Toby approached him.

"Sir," he said. "Evan's legs have gone really tight. We've got a big rugby match on Saturday."

Mike was embarrassed; it was exactly what he'd feared might happen. It had been great of Jim Cooper to let the boy run, but the games master had little idea how demanding the race was going to be; Evan had run himself to a standstill. Getting him right for the final rugby match was now his top priority.

"Have a shower now," Mike said gently, addressing himself to the hobbling Evan. "When we get back to school I'll take you to my flat so you can soak in a nice hot bath with plenty of bath salts. Then afterwards I'll give you a massage, okay? Don't worry, you'll be fine by Saturday."

They made their way slowly towards the sports centre to get showered and changed. Suddenly Martin veered to his right, trotting across to a well-built man who was striding towards them. The man put his arm around Martin's shoulder, before continuing to head in Mike's direction.

"Mr Thompson!" he said, extending his hand. "I'm Geoff Greenhall, Martin's dad. Great to meet you!"

"Thanks for coming," Mike responded. "I realise you must be very busy."

"Never too busy for something like this," Geoff said enthusiastically. "Martin's last school report was such an improvement on anything he's managed before, then when he came home at half term and told us he'd won the county championships, well, it was like I'd won the pools! So, I wasn't going to miss this!"

"You never said you were coming," Martin said accusingly.

"I didn't want to distract you before the race," Geoff explained, still rattling away nineteen to the dozen, "and anyway I was worried something might come up at the last minute so I couldn't be here; that's how it is when you run your own business. But I'm glad I made it; cross country's not my sport but that was really exciting!"

"Well, I'm pleased you came," Mike said. "It's great to have parents coming to support."

"When Martin was younger," Geoff continued, "I struggled to get him interested in anything; I was really worried about him, but since you came along he's changed completely. You've got through to him in a way I never could and suddenly I've got the son I always wanted." He gave Martin's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm very grateful to you; you've done a fantastic job."

Mike hardly knew what to say; the conversation seeming to have a somewhat surreal element to it. While it was true that Martin had improved tremendously, the fact of the matter was that he'd been fucking the boy around five times a week for the previous six months. It was apparent that his dad had not the slightest inkling of this aspect of their relationship; what he would have thought had he known did not bear thinking about.

"It's been my pleasure," Mike responded. "As a teacher, watching someone you've worked with really start to fulfil their potential is the best reward you can ever have."

"D'you think he'll get into a good senior school?" Geoff asked. "I know he's left it all rather late."

"Well, I'm certainly hoping so," Mike said, "but actually I'm glad you're here because I wanted to have a word with you about that. One school I know very well is Winsthorpe College. They get excellent exam results and they always have a strong cross-country team; that's how I know them. I think their junior school has won the team race here. They're always looking for promising runners; as long as Martin's done at least reasonably well in Common Entrance, they'll definitely offer him a place. There's one problem though; the school's in north Derbyshire, not far from Sheffield. It's a long way from where you live."

"That's not a problem," Geoff said, smiling. "I'm from Nottingham originally and my parents still live there, don't they Martin?" Martin and his dad grinned at each other. "In any case," Geoff went on, "I trust your judgement; if you think he'd do well there and keep developing the way he has with you, that's where I want him to be. If I need to get up there, to watch him race or collect him at the end of term, I've got a Jag; it won't take me that long. What d'you think, Martin?"

"Yeah!" Martin responded, smiling up at his dad. "I definitely want to go somewhere I can carry on with my running."

"Before the presentations I'll introduce you to their junior school cross-country master, so you can have a chat to him." Mike offered, "but right now we're all sweaty and dirty and need a shower. If you wait in the sports hall, I'll see you in there."

As they continued towards the sports centre, Mike exchanged a brief handshake with Tom Naylor, Patrick's dad, another delighted parent. Whether he'd be quite so delighted if he knew about the incident in the apartment, Mike didn't care to speculate. But it was true that Patrick had done outstandingly well; when it came to racing, the boy was far tougher than he looked.

Back in the changing room Mike began to strip off. It was the first time he'd showered and changed with the boys, but after charging around the course getting muddy and sweaty, he couldn't face the long drive home without a shower and a change of clothes. For once, getting an erection wouldn't be an issue. Even though he was surrounded by a couple of hundred extremely cute boys, he was simply too drained, both physically and emotionally. He took off his jock strap and made his way into the showers.

Evan was still there, taking advantage of the plentiful hot water to try and ease his aching legs. Mike had seen the lad after rugby training often enough, but had never really looked at him before. He was around five feet tall and slim, and to Mike's surprise, his pubic hair was already starting to come in, quite sparse, but definitely growing. It wasn't what he'd expected.

Mike strolled into the drying area. There were beautiful naked boys wherever he looked, including a few in various stages of arousal; the sights on view could hardly have been bettered. In other circumstances maintaining self control might have been a struggle, but right then becoming erect just wasn't on the agenda. He finished drying himself and returned to the changing room, dressing in some fresh clothes before rejoining the boys.

On entering the sports hall he immediately spotted Jack Howden, the Winsthorpe cross-country master. He'd been there since demobilisation back in 1946.

"Hi Jack!" Mike said, smiling warmly. "Good to see you!"

"Mike Thompson!" Jack responded. "I didn't know you were teaching at one of these god-forsaken establishments!"

"Oh I spent five years working in comprehensives," Mike explained. "If you want god-forsaken, that was it; I didn't enjoy it at all. I joined Hartswood eighteen months ago. They'd never had a cross-country team before so it took a while to get things going. This is our first time here."

"Produced any stars yet?" Jack asked, grinning.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. One of my boys won the Sussex under-13's title back in January and finished third today. He's interested in moving to Winsthorpe."

"Is he now?" Jack queried. "So he's got nothing lined up then?"

"Not at the moment," Mike said. "Martin's something of a late developer; twelve months ago nobody would have looked at him, but he's made great strides since, both with his running and in class."

"Well, as long as he's done at least reasonably well in Common Entrance we'd be delighted to take him," Jack said. "We're always looking for boys who can make that sort of contribution. He'd have to get used to all the northern accents, of course!"

"I don't think that would be a problem," Mike said, grinning. "His dad's here today; would you like to have a chat to them?"

"Certainly!" Jack said. "I'll arrange to have some application forms sent out so we can get the ball rolling."

Mike made the introductions and left them to it. He squatted down on the floor next to Justin and Toby.

"Did you enjoy it today?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was great!" Toby said enthusiastically. "I've never been to anything like this before."

They chatted for nearly ten minutes, Toby asking a whole series of questions, trying to understand more about the sport. It was typical of the lad, Mike reflected; he always wanted to understand what he was doing or what he was watching. Suddenly two boys appeared carrying results sheets. Toby hurried across and purchased two copies. He trotted back and handed one to Mike, a big smile on his face.

Mike checked the sheet; the team had finished in third place. There were scenes of jubilation. Mike was overjoyed; when he'd started the cross-country team he'd never dreamed he'd be able to get them to such a standard so quickly. As an added bonus, all six runners would get a medal, not just the four scorers. It was the first time that John or Alan had won anything. Alan would be leaving in the summer, so it probably wouldn't matter to him. John, however, had another year, and in Mike's judgement, he was definitely one that had the potential to come through, just as Martin had done. Winning a medal might be just the stimulus he needed.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

They arrived back at school at ten past six, later than Mike had expected. They headed straight into supper. Afterwards, Mike took Evan back to the apartment. The boy was walking more freely, but was obviously still sore.

"So what did you think of it today?" Mike asked.

"Oh, it was great sir!" Evan said, smiling up at him. "I just wish I was a bit fitter. I think if I trained I could have made the top twenty."

"Yeah, that's probably about right," Mike agreed, "but you're an important member of the rugby team and you can't do everything."

Up in the apartment, Mike ran the bath, putting in a generous helping of bath salts. Evan giggled as the foam grew prodigiously.

"Right, I'll leave you to it," Mike said, smiling. "When you're ready just dry yourself off, slip on your underpants and come and find me; I'll be in the living room."

Mike exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He got everything ready, spreading a large towel over the bed and taking the massage oil from the cupboard. Finally he returned to the living room, sitting on the sofa to read the latest edition of 'Athletics Weekly', music playing quietly in the background. Just under half an hour later, Evan reappeared, dressed only in his white briefs.

"So how was that?" Mike asked.

"Great!" Evan said, giving him a big smile. "I'd have stayed in longer but my skin was going all wrinkly."

"Okay, into the bedroom!" Mike ordered.

Evan lay face down on the bed without Mike having to ask him. Mike set to work, skilfully massaging the oil into Evan's calves and thighs, gradually easing away the tightness. Evan lay there contentedly. He'd never had a massage before; it felt wonderful, too wonderful in fact; he was becoming erect. His penis was trapped, pointing down over his balls. It was most uncomfortable but he couldn't move; it would be too embarrassing.

"I might as well do your back and your shoulders while you're here," Mike said.

As Mike began to massage his back, Evan raised his hips off the bed. His penis sprang to attention, pointing straight up towards his tummy-button. He settled down again, basking in the experience, the back-massage making him feel better than ever.

His brain was running riot. Over the previous few months he'd become fascinated by the idea of being bummed by one of the masters. He didn't know why; he just had. He knew it was happening to some of the other boys; he'd wondered endlessly what it was like. He'd become obsessed with the idea, desperate to try it, to find out for himself. It was insane, but he couldn't get the idea out of his head.

Martin was Mr. Thompson's boy; nobody said anything, but they all knew. He wondered if Mr. Thompson massaged Martin like this before he bummed him. He guessed that he probably did, sometimes anyway. So was Mr. Thompson going to do that with him? The thought made his penis throb uncontrollably.

"Okay, all done!" Mike announced. "Up you get!"

Evan got onto his knees and climbed off the bed. Mike noticed his erection immediately. It was obvious the boy was ready for sex, but Mike rejected the idea. He'd brought him to the apartment to make sure he'd be ready for Saturday's rugby match; taking advantage of the situation didn't seem right, even if he just sucked the lad off.

"So how d'you feel now?" he enquired.

"Much better thanks, sir," Even said. "That was great."

"You'll probably stiffen up a bit overnight," Mike warned. "If you're still feeling a bit tight come to my room after classes tomorrow and we can give it a second go. Okay, time to get dressed!"

Evan returned to the bathroom, rather disappointed that nothing had happened.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike quite often watched the school's home rugby matches when his boys weren't racing, but he'd never been to an away game. On this occasion, however, he had to go; it was, he felt, the best way of thanking Jim Cooper for allowing Evan to run three days earlier.

He wanted to be there to thank Evan too; not only had the boy had performed superbly, he'd got on well with absolutely everybody, it had been a pleasure to have him as part of the team. Evan had returned for a second massage on the Thursday afternoon. Mike wasn't sure it was really necessary, but he was quite happy to do it. Once again Evan had become aroused and once again Mike had declined the opportunity.

The rugby team was on course for a perfect season, having won every match of the seventeen they'd played. The final match was away at Martlington County Grammar School whom Hartswood had beaten in their home match the previous November. Because of the match's importance, the school was putting on a supporters' coach. Mike had volunteered to help with supervision. At nine o'clock he boarded the coach, along with deputy head John Halford, assistant rugby master Andrew Farnham, and approximately fifty very excited boys.

All the boys were convinced that Hartswood would win; Mike was far less certain. Hartswood had won their home fixture, held in wet, miserable conditions, by just five points, with the Martlington place-kicker missing several straightforward attempts at goal. Playing on their own pitch in near perfect conditions, they would clearly be a tough proposition. At best, it was going to be very tight.

His analysis proved entirely correct. Although Hartswood matched them up front, Pascal Donnelly apart, the Martlington backs were bigger, stronger and faster. The Hartswood boys gave it absolutely everything, and Pascal's goal-kicking and all-round excellence kept the scores close, but in the end it was not enough, Martlington winning 29 - 24.

On the drive back to school, the boys were very subdued, the younger ones especially, disappointed that their heroes had fallen short of their objective.

"You shouldn't be too disappointed," Mike said gently, sitting among a group of first and second years. "We didn't lose because we played badly; we lost because they were better than we were. They have a lot more boys to pick from, of course; that's just how it is. So don't lose sight of how well the team's done this season; they've been superb."

"The cross-country team's done well too, hasn't it sir?" nine year old Nicky Franklyn piped up.

"We've done okay," Mike said modestly, smiling at the boy.

Nicky was blond and angelic, with a hint of mischief about him. One day, Mike speculated, Nicky might be his boy, and he'd be putting his penis into the lad's cute little bottom.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

They arrived back at Hartswood at half past twelve. Mike strolled into the refectory with Jim and Andrew. He rarely had lunch there on a Saturday, but on this occasion there seemed no reason not to. Everyone was in good spirits; despite the morning's reverse, they all had a very successful winter to look back on. After finishing his meal, Mike strolled over to where Evan was still eating.

"So how were the legs?" he enquired, smiling.

"Oh, they were fine, thanks sir," Evan responded. "They've tightened up a bit now though," he added, looking Mike right in the eye.

The implication was obvious, and Mike was not going to refuse.

"Come over to the gatehouse when you've finished," he said brightly. "I'm not doing anything this afternoon so you can have a soak and a massage."

"Thanks sir!" Evan said brightly. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Mike strode back along the drive, his heart pounding. Evan was coming to the apartment for sex, and now that the rugby match was out of the way, he was quite happy to give the boy what he wanted. He could, he judged, have made a move the moment the lad was through the door, but that would be crude. He'd go through the same routine as he had before, only this time things would carry on to wherever they wanted them to go.

He changed into shorts and a polo top and prepared the bedroom, making sure he had KY as well as massage oil readily to hand. He wasn't sure if Evan would be willing to be fucked, but he wanted to make sure he was ready for that eventuality. He was just about to begin running the bath when the doorbell rang. He answered it, a smiling Evan standing there as arranged.

"Well done this morning," Mike said, ushering the boy towards the bathroom. "I thought it was a good performance."

"Yeah, it was okay," Evan conceded. "It would have been great to win, but they were just too good. If their goal kicker was any use they'd have murdered us. Mr. Cooper says they're one of the best teams he's ever seen at our level. "

"Yeah, he was saying that at lunchtime," Mike said casually, turning on the hot water and throwing in a handful of salts. "Okay, I'll leave you to it!"

He returned to the living room to await developments. He was determined not to rush things. He'd nothing else to do; they could take as long as they wanted. He sat idly, watching horse racing on the television. A race finished; the commentators began waffling. Right on cue, Evan appeared.

"Come on then," Mike said, turning off the TV and following the lad to the bedroom.

The massage began with Mike working on Evan's legs, exactly as before. He moved onto the boy's back. Evan shifted position to make himself more comfortable, just as he had on the two previous occasions. Mike allowed himself a smile; the boy was hard again.

The massage continued. Evan lay still, his heart thumping against the mattress, enjoying Mike's fingers working over his back. He was mad, he told himself. Mr. Thompson was going to bum him, just like he was bumming Martin. And it was going to hurt; oh yes, it'd hurt like hell. He'd had an older friend; he knew what getting bummed was about. He remembered the day he'd lost his virginity. Hugh hadn't been rough on purpose, just clumsy. That had hurt, a lot.

He knew he shouldn't have said anything to Mr. Thompson about his legs being tight; they weren't really, not any more than usual. It was stupid, but he just couldn't stop himself. And now he was going to get bummed. It hadn't happened when he'd been here before, but today it would; he could sense it. He'd dreamed about this for months; now it was actually going to happen he was scared.

Mike completed the massage and sat back on his heels, pulling off his polo top. He'd pretty much decided what to do; he'd tell the boy to get up, notice his erection, and ask if he wanted some help with it. He looked down at the boy lying submissively in front of him, Evan's bottom as perfect a specimen as he'd ever seen; the boy was wonderfully fuckable.

Evan's underpants seemed a little loose. Mike leaned forward, inspecting them more closely. Having been through the school laundry on countless occasions, the elastic had begun to perish, leaving the garment rather less snug than it might have been. Mike was so aroused he hardly knew what he was doing. Instinctively he inserted a finger into the leg of Evan's briefs, running it over the boy's perineum and onto his anus. Plan 'A' had just gone out of the window.

"You're a very sexy boy, aren't you Evan?" he said in a low growl.

"Yes sir," Evan admitted, now totally certain of what lay in store for him.

"And that's why you're here, isn't it?" Mike continued.

"Yes sir," Evan repeated.

"So what d'you want me to do?" Mike enquired.

Evan took a deep breath. "Whatever you want, sir," he responded.

It was almost what Mike wanted to hear; almost but not quite.

"So d'you want me to fuck you?" he asked.

"Yes sir," Evan said nervously.

"So you've been fucked before then?" he said, more as a statement than a question.

"Yes sir, Evan said. "Last year I was Hugh Cameron's younger friend."

Mike remembered the lad well, a stalwart of both the rugby and cricket teams. He'd been fairly well-endowed for a thirteen year old, but not exceptionally so.

"And what about this year?" Mike enquired.

"I haven't got an older friend this year sir," Evan said, "but Mark Burgess and I are in the same dorm; we take turns bumming each other."

Mark was a big lad for twelve, but his penis was nothing out of the ordinary; if that's what Evan was accustomed to, it was only a fraction of what Mike would be giving him.

"And which do you prefer, giving it or taking it?" Mike asked.

"Taking it sir," Evan said.

"So now you want me to do you?" Mike continued.

"Yes sir," Evan confirmed. "Last night when Mark was bumming me I was dreaming that it was you."

"Are you sure?" Mike probed, removing his finger from Evan's anus and pulling off his shorts. "You don't know what I've got for you."

"I know you've got a big one, sir," Evan said. "I saw you in the showers, you know, after the race."

Mike smiled; he'd forgotten about that. He hadn't been erect but the boy would still have got a very fair idea of what he was going to get. It was the green light he'd been waiting for. He squeezed some KY onto his fingers then worked his index finger back into Evan's underpants and onto his anus. He pushed inside. Evan was tight enough but he was no virgin, confirming what the lad had just told him. He inserted a second finger, twisting his fingers around to open the boy up. In front of him, Evan lay completely still, awaiting the inevitable.

Mike withdrew his fingers. He smeared KY over his rampant penis then pulled the right leg of Evan's underpants roughly to one side, exposing the boy's puckered hole. He straddled the lad, his knees to the outside of Evan's, lowering himself onto his target. He pushed hard; there was no movement. He applied his full weight. The ring of muscle gave way, allowing him inside.

"Oh sir!" Evan groaned, his sphincter stretched almost to breaking point. "Oooooh!!"

"There's no turning back now," Mike told him.

Evan buried his face in the pillow, biting on it. The man's penis thrust steadily deeper, penetrating him much further than Hugh or Mark ever had, the pain almost unbearable. Finally he'd taken it all, the maths master's pubic hair scrunched up against his bottom. After a second, the man's penis began to slide slowly out until little more than the head was still inside him. A moment later it slammed right in again, striking his prostate on the way through.

"Agghhhh!" he gasped, his cock twitching wildly.

Within seconds he was being fucked in earnest, the pain still severe but being gradually overcome by the pleasure from the man's penis thrusting repeatedly over his sex button. He whimpered and gurgled, finally understanding why Martin and the other boys liked it so much, the sensations too wonderful to describe.

The muscle spasms began right down by his toes, sweeping over his body like a tidal wave, his throbbing spike tingling so much it was almost painful.

"Sir!" he moaned. "I'm going to cum in my pants!"

"Go on! Do it!" Mike barked. "Yes!"

A moment later, Evan's cock jerked into life, jets of watery fluid squirting into his briefs.

Mike continued on, fucking the boy ferociously. In less than a minute he was there too. He drove his full length into Evan's anus, gripping the boy by the shoulders. His penis reared up, copious amounts of thick creamy semen spurting into Evan's rectum. He collapsed on top of the lad, his heart pounding against Evan's back.

Finally he withdrew. Evan farted prodigiously, a wet patch spreading across the back of his briefs. Mike turned Evan over, pulling the boy towards him. Evan was taken unawares; before he knew what was happening, Mike's tongue was in his mouth, the man kissing him passionately. He couldn't resist; he didn't even want to, his tongue eagerly joining the action.

A couple of minutes passed. Evan's cock was thrusting against Mike's tummy; the boy was rock hard again. Mike released the kiss, roughly pushing down Evan's underpants. He scooted down the bed, devouring the boy's hard little cock. He sucked it hungrily. Evan writhed and squirmed, overcome by this latest assault on his still-sensitive penis. The tingling began to build.

"Sir! I'm gonna cum!" he whimpered, his breathing so ragged he could barely get the words out.

Once more his balls churned into action, little jets of boy-cum squirting over the maths master's tongue. Mike swallowed it greedily, licking and slurping to make sure he's taken every drop. Finally he let Evan go, drawing the lad into a gentle hug.

"Sorry I was so rough," he said quietly. That just blew my mind! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Evan responded. "I'm pretty sore, but that was fantastic; I've never been fucked like that before. You've cum loads, haven't you sir?"

"More than you're used to, I'd guess," Mike said, grinning.

For several minutes they lay snuggled up together, not saying another word, Mike's semen seeping from Evan's anus and running onto the towel.

"Well, I guess it's time you got cleaned up," Mike said finally. "Sorry your underpants are a bit of a mess."

"That's okay sir," Evan said brightly. "I'll change them when I get back."

Five minutes later Evan was dressed and on his way. Despite everything, he seemed to be walking quite normally. He really was remarkably tough, Mike reflected.

Mike wandered back into the living room and flopped down on the sofa. He felt completely drained, his mind in a whirl. He was completely devoted to Martin, and Gavin was a sexy as hell, but for the sheer, unbridled intensity of it, that beat everything. Evan would never be his boy; he wouldn't even be a frequent visitor. But every once in a while the lad would ask him for a massage and he would be happy to oblige.

SEDUCTION IN REVERSE - PART FOUR

Having been so busy with the school cross-country team and everything else that was going on, Mike had neglected his own running. Over the winter he'd trained only sporadically and hardly raced at all. With the Easter holidays just a week away, it was time to put that right. The spring road relays, races he greatly enjoyed, were coming up. He was a key member of the club team and was determined to run well.

Although his slight frame had been unable to cope with running over one hundred miles a week like the top internationals did, the flip side was that he was a 'natural' and could get fit very quickly. By the time of the Southern Counties Road Relay Championships he was flying, and played an important part in helping the club retain the title that they'd won the previous year. It was great to feel part of it again.

More than that, it kept him busy during the three week holiday. He didn't regret having broken up with Claire; it was the right thing to do, but during the holidays he missed having the boys around, Martin especially. Training with his club mates and socialising with them afterwards didn't completely fill the gap, but it certainly helped.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The start of the summer term coincided with the start of the track season. Mike had already committed himself to turning out for the club in their Southern League matches; in addition he wanted to give some of the boys the opportunity to compete on the track.

"I'm planning on taking the lads to a few track meetings this term," he explained to Jim Cooper. "Will it be all right to use the minibus?"

"As long as you avoid the days when the cricket team's playing away, it should be no problem," Jim told him. "Actually, that's something I need to do," he continued. "William will be competing in the Sussex Schools' Championships in June and he'll need a few warm-up competitions beforehand. We could work together if you like."

"That sounds good!" Mike said, smiling. "There's the Sussex AAA Championships in the middle of May and I'll sort out a couple of open meetings that we can go to."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The first track meeting went well. The age-groups for track & field were different from those for cross-country; the boys in third year and Lower Fourth ran together, but Martin had to compete in the next age group, running against boys a year older than himself. He hung on well to finish seventh in the fifteen hundred metres in a very respectable time of four minutes fifty three seconds.

Most of the younger boys also ran the fifteen hundred, with Evan, who was well suited to track running, finishing second in just inside five minutes, with Patrick and Jamie not too far behind. The exception was John, who opted for the eight hundred, finishing second in a very promising two minutes twenty seven seconds. The boy certainly had potential, just as Mike had suspected.

Jim Cooper's field event athletes performed well too, with William Lawrence the star of the show. Despite having to compete against boys a year older than himself, he won the high jump with a school record of one metre seventy five, almost an inch over his own head. William was such a quiet, gentle boy, Mike reflected, he seemed positively embarrassed by all the praise the other lads gave him.

As Jim was there to supervise the boys, Mike took the opportunity to run in the final race of the meeting, the senior men's three thousand metres. Although he'd struggled to compete against top international runners, at this level he was very comfortable, staying close to the front as the laps ticked by. The leading group was gradually whittled down; as the bell sounded there were just three of them left. They raced along the back straight and rounded the final bend, Mike holding his position on the leader's shoulder, then, turning into the home straight, he streaked away, winning in a time just outside eight minutes.

The boys were awestruck. They hadn't seen Mike race before and he'd never mentioned his achievements; they simply hadn't realised how good he was.

"Wow sir!" Martin said, grinning. "I didn't know you were that good!"

"Oh, not bad, I guess," Mike said. "That was a nice race."

"That was fantastic, sir!" John added, his eyes sparkling. "I want to run like that!"

Mike was very struck by John's comment. The blond lad was a barely average student, quite abrasive and somewhat inclined to be surly, the one boy in the team who had never really engaged with him. That, Mike sensed, was about to change.

"You did well today," he replied, giving John a big smile, "so keep working at it."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Sir," Martin asked, snuggling up to Mike. "Next Sunday can Jamie come here with me, you know, instead of us doing it down in the pavilion?"

"Hmmm," Mike said, looking lovingly at the naked boy. "You know what happened the last time you brought somebody here with you."

"Well, it won't this time, sir, I promise," Martin assured him. "Jamie knows I'm your boy; he asked if he could come with me, honest! You'll like Jamie, sir; he's really sexy."

"I'd much rather spend the time just with you," Mike said, hugging the boy closer.

"Oh, come on, sir," Martin said pleadingly. "Just once then I won't ask you again, promise!"

"Oh, all right then!" Mike sighed. "Bring him here after training next Sunday. But I don't want anyone else finding out and it will only be once, understand?"

"Yes sir!" Martin said, grinning. "Are you going to fuck me now?"

"What do you think?" Mike asked, smiling back.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike waited apprehensively; he wasn't really looking forward to it. On the previous occasions that he'd had two boys at the apartment, things had gone wrong. The incident with Patrick hadn't really been his fault, but he was still annoyed with himself for leaving Dominic so sore. He shouldn't have fucked the lad. He'd known before he'd started that the boy wasn't ready to take a penis as large as his, but he'd got carried away.

He'd made up his mind that it wouldn't happen again. Stuff like that was pretty much the norm when he was at school, but they did things differently at Hartswood. In any case, he was an adult now and these boys were his responsibility; he needed to be more careful. He wouldn't fuck Jamie if he wasn't ready for it, even if the lad wanted him to.

The doorbell rang. Mike shepherded the boys into the apartment, Jamie giving him a characteristically cheeky grin. They headed to the bedroom and began to undress each other. Mike had seen Jamie naked on numerous occasions, but hadn't previously seen him with an erection. The boy's penis was quite slim, but seemed very long on the small, skinny eleven year old, just over four inches, a little nozzle of foreskin projecting beyond the tip. Mike ran his fingers over it; the lad was hard the way only boys of that age can be.

Jamie took great delight in removing Mike's jockey shorts.

"You've got a nice one, sir!" he said, grinning up at Mike. "Martin said you had."

They got onto the bed. To his surprise, Mike found himself in the middle, sucking Martin's penis while Jamie sucked his. The boy was very good; Mike stroked his short fair hair, urging him to continue. Over the next twenty minutes they swapped round several times, everyone sucking everyone else. Finally it was time. Jamie lay on his back pulling his legs up so his knees were by his shoulders. Martin crawled into position, guiding his slicked-up penis onto the Jamie's pucker. With little apparent effort he thrust it in, Mike watching enraptured as Martin's penis pistoned in and out of the younger boy's bottom. The expression on Jamie's face said it all; he loved it!

"Fuck!" Martin rasped. "I'm gonna cum!"

He speared his whole length into Jamie's rectum, holding on tight as he unloaded inside his younger friend. After several seconds he slowly withdrew.

"Go on sir," he said, grinning at Mike. "It's your turn now!"

"You sure you can take this?" Mike asked, smiling at Jamie.

"Yeah, course!" Jamie said, smirking. "I was keeping Chris happy all through the holidays and he's pretty big."

The Barnett boys were a strange couple, Mike reflected. While Jamie was small for his age, his brother Chris, barely a year older, could easily pass for fourteen and had a penis to match.

"Oh, so your brother's been fucking you, has he?" Mike queried.

"Yeah, every day while we were off school," Jamie confirmed. "He bums Daniel Palmer when we're here; Danny loves it! But when we're at home he has to make do with me."

"Okay then," Mike said grinning. Not like that though; I want to do you from behind."

"Give him a pair of shorts to wear," Martin suggested.

"I was wondering about that," Mike said, retrieving one of the smaller pairs from under the bed. He handed them to Jamie. "Here, put these on."

Jamie shrugged then slipped them on.

"You going to fuck me in these?" he asked.

"Yeah," Mike confirmed.

"Does he do you like that?" Jamie demanded, turning to Martin.

"Sometimes," Martin confirmed.

"That's wild, man!" Jamie said, grinning.

Mike moved the bedside cabinet away from the wall, placing a pillow on top. He positioned Jamie over it, easing the shorts down onto the boy's hips to give himself more room. He smeared KY over his penis and inserted it up the leg of the shorts, guiding it onto Jamie's sphincter. He checked himself. Jamie was the youngest boy he'd ever been with and the smallest by some margin. If the lad squealed, he'd stop.

He pushed forwards, gradually increasing the pressure. Suddenly Jamie's sphincter relented and he slipped inside.

"Fuck!" Jamie gasped. "Oh, man!!"

"Are you okay?" Mike asked.

"Fuck, yeah!" Jamie confirmed, still breathing hard. "Stuff it in sir; just take it slow."

He stood motionless, Mike's hands around his thighs, the man's penis advancing steadily into him. It hit his sex-button

"Oh, man!" he moaned, a bolt of electricity shooting through his cock.

Seconds later he was fully impaled. After a short pause, Mike began to fuck him. Jamie soon realised what the shorts were for, Mike's penis thrusting repeatedly over his prostate combining with the friction between his hard spike and the coarse material bringing him to fever pitch. He shuddered uncontrollably.

"Uhhh! Uhhhh!!" he groaned.

His penis jerked wildly against the rough cotton shorts, trying desperately to pump out the spunk his balls had yet to make.

In an instant Mike's orgasm was upon him.

"Good boy!" he growled. "Yes! Yes!! Nnnnnggg!!!"

He held on tight, his penis rearing up, almost lifting the boy off his feet, his semen spurting into Jamie's rectum in several powerful volleys. After several seconds he carefully withdrew. Almost immediately his semen flooded out of Jamie's anus, soaking the back of his shorts.

"Are you all right?" Mike asked gently.

"Yeah!" Jamie breathed. "Man! That was something else! Fuck!!"

"You can take those off now," Mike said quietly.

Jamie slipped them off, handing them to Mike.

"My little souvenir," Mike said, grinning.

Jamie giggled before hurrying off to the bathroom. Two minutes later he was back. He got onto bed, climbing right on top of Mike.

"Sir," he asked. "Next year, could I be your boy, you know, after Martin's left?"

"We'll have to see about that," Mike said guardedly, giving the boy a smile.

"So does that mean yes?" Jamie persisted.

"It means we'll have to see," Mike repeated.

Jamie gave Mike a look of mock disapproval, but to Mike's relief, didn't pursue the matter further. For several minutes they lay there, all still naked, not saying much but enjoying one another's closeness. Finally Mike checked his watch.

"It's nearly twelve o'clock," he announced. "Time you lads were on your way."

They got dressed.

"Thanks sir!" Jamie said, grinning again as he and Martin made their way out.

Mike retreated to the living room, flopping down on the sofa. It had been great; everything had gone perfectly. He still preferred being one-on-one with Martin, but as an occasional diversion it would have been difficult to improve on it.

He was less certain about having Jamie as 'his boy'. On the positive side, the lad was unbelievably sexy, and accepting the lad's suggestion would save him the trouble of finding someone else. On the other hand, Jamie and Martin were such different personalities. Jamie was cheeky and self-confident, cocky even; he didn't need the help and support that had been so important to Martin. Mike wasn't at all sure how the relationship would work. Having sex with Jamie was one thing; having him as 'his boy' was a completely different matter.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was late June and the summer term was beginning to wind down. Deon and the four scholarship boys had taken their 'O' level maths examination, and although Mike continued to keep all the boys in Upper Fourth working, the pressure was finally off.

The Common Entrance results had shown further improvement, with twenty four boys out of thirty obtaining places at top schools. That was one fewer than Mike's target, but he was happy enough; they'd come very close. There were three scholarships too, the highest number in the school's history, and although Dominic had missed out, he'd won a place at Wellington College, his father's old school. He'd set his heart on going there, so he was more than happy to have made it.

Mike's own running was going better than ever. He'd won the Southern Counties five thousand metre title, breaking thirteen and a half minutes for the first time. On the weekend after term finished he would be competing in the AAA Championships at Crystal Palace, and although there was no major championship to aim for, if he ran well he'd get the chance to compete in a few international races during the summer break.

The boys were also running well; they'd all improved, especially John, who'd run better with every race. In his last outing he'd won the eight hundred metres quite convincingly in a time of two minutes twenty one seconds, a big improvement on his previous best. More significantly his attitude had changed. He was training harder and really listening to what Mike told him.

Martin had been impressive too. Although he'd had to run in races he stood no chance of winning, he'd shown great determination, improving his fifteen hundred metres time to four minutes forty nine seconds, not far outside the school record.

But for all his runners' achievements, the athletics performance of the season belonged to the quiet, unassuming William, who had won the Sussex Schools' Junior Boys' High Jump, advancing his own school record to one metre eighty five and winning himself a half-fees scholarship to Marlborough College. Mike knew how much work Jim Cooper had put into helping William achieve such a standard; he was delighted for both of them. More than that, it was an inspiration to him and the boys.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

For Martin, the most important race of the season would occur on Sports Day when he'd get the chance to race against Craig again. Craig had always beaten him on the flat cross-country courses, and even though he'd been playing cricket all summer and hadn't trained, beating him over fifteen hundred metres was going to be a very tough proposition.

"How d'you think I should run it, sir?" Martin asked.

"The big mistake would be to try to run hard all the way," Mike told him. "You'll never beat anyone who's any good doing that. What you need to do it to run the first two laps fairly steady, then run as hard as you can all the way to the line and hopefully run the sprint finish out of him; it's your best chance."

They practised in training, Mike pacing the boy through two steady laps before picking up the tempo over the remaining seven hundred metres.

"That's hard, sir!" Martin complained, down on his haunches, trying to get his breathing under control. "My chest feels like it's on fire!"

"That's the whole point," Mike said, smiling. "It was hard for you, and you're in great shape. Craig hasn't trained since before Easter; it's going to be even harder for him."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Sports Day was warm and sunny, with very little wind, a day for great performances. Mike took his position by the finishing line, where he was in charge of the time-keepers. The entire school was out on the field, with a good number parents there in support. He smiled to himself as he spotted Geoff Greenhall and Tom Naylor. It was good to see them; Martin and Patrick needed that sort of support.

The day lived up to expectations. John looked impressive winning the Lower Fourth eight hundred metres. It was slower than he'd run before, but that didn't matter. The boy looked good; he looked like a runner. William confirmed his status as one of the school's all-time stars by winning not only the high jump, but the hurdles as well. It was more of an exhibition than a race, William crossing the finish line before any of the other boys had cleared the final flight of hurdles. He looked wonderful, his technique crisp and powerful, his sprinting between the barriers almost effortless.

Toby Redman was prowling around the infield, accompanied by science master Paul Chandler. Toby was filming the action, as he had the previous year, Mike remembered. From what he understood, Toby had begun filming Sports Day the year before that, when he was only eleven. Showing the films before the boys went home for the holidays had become one of the highlights of the school's end of term activities. Toby was a remarkable young man; Mike reflected, a boy who set himself a goal then simply did whatever he needed to do to achieve it.

Finally they came to the fifteen hundred metres. The boys from Upper Fourth and Lower Fourth ran together, although the races were scored separately. As there was no race for the younger boys, Mike had arranged for third years Jamie and Philip to run as guests; he knew they wouldn't be last.

The starting pistol sounded and ten boys headed along the back straight. Martin took his expected position at the front, all the other boys happy to let him set the pace. This was Martin's test, Mike considered; being aware of other boys close to him, he might be tempted to press on too early.

Martin was going to do no such thing. Mike, his mentor, had given him a race plan and he was going to stick to it no matter what; in truth he'd have run through a brick wall if Mike had told him to. They completed the first lap in a modest seventy seven seconds, slowing a little on the second to go through eight hundred metres in two minutes thirty seven; right on the schedule Mike had given him.

Immediately, Martin picked the pace up. As they ran along the back straight the field split in two, Craig tucking in behind him, the other boys trailing in their wake. Craig had been surprised by how slow the first two laps had been, convinced that Martin would have wanted to make it hard from the start. He was surprised by this tactic too, surprised but unconcerned; all he had to do was to sit in then out-sprint Martin at the finish, just as he'd done so often during the winter.

They passed the bell in three minutes thirty two. As they started the final lap, doubts began to creep into Craig's mind. The pace was fast and relentless; it was beginning to hurt. All the way down the back straight and around the final bend he hung on desperately, determined to stay close, his lungs burning. They turned into the home straight, boys, masters and parents roaring their support. Martin made one final effort. Craig's legs buckled; he had no more left to give. Martin eased away to win in four minutes forty three with Craig just over a second behind, both boys having beaten the previous school record.

Mike was overcome with emotion. It had been a fantastic race, the best possible way for Sports Day to end. Martin's performance had been everything he'd hoped for. For someone who had started out looking so ordinary to have improved so much and achieve what he had was simply overwhelming. And the boy wasn't just a mud-slogger; the way he'd performed just then had given the message loud and clear; he was a real runner.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mike was dreading having to say goodbye to Martin. It wasn't just about sex; over the previous nine months they'd grown so close; he was going to miss the lad terribly. Martin had been offered a place at Winsthorpe College. He'd visited the school with his father earlier in the term and could hardly wait to get started.

And why not, Mike reflected? Martin had developed a new confidence, an enthusiasm, a sense of belonging; he'd found his place in the world. At the age of thirteen his life was opening up in front of him, new vistas, new challenges, new opportunities, things that twelve months earlier he wouldn't have even dreamed of; it was right that he should be excited.

It didn't make matters any easier for him though. He'd never had feelings for anyone the way he had for Martin. Oh, he'd liked the boys that he'd had sex with when he was at school, but when he'd finally left to go to university, he'd left Paul and Anthony behind with hardly a second thought. He'd been very fond of Claire, of course, but even that paled into insignificance when compared with the way he felt for Martin.

It wasn't about finding boys for sex. Jamie and Gavin would still be there in September and would be available more or less any time he wanted them. He'd probably be able to have Evan occasionally too. During that term, Evan had been back once, much as Mike had predicted; after one of the track meetings he'd asked for a massage, which Mike had been happy to give him. Afterwards Mike had given the boy some gym shorts to wear and fucked him over the bedside cabinet. Although Evan hadn't come back a second time, Mike felt certain that he'd continue to get occasional requests from the lad when the rugby season started up again.

What Mike wanted was someone who would grow to mean as much to him as Martin had done, to give a real sense of purpose to his life. He felt sure it was no coincidence that at the age of twenty nine he was running better than he ever had; he was at peace with himself and feeling better about everything. But Martin was moving on and come September he would have to find someone to replace him. But who? The only thing he felt certain of was that Jamie was not the one.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

They were snuggled up on Mike's bed, as naked as jaybirds, kissing passionately. Mike didn't usually invite Martin to the apartment on Wednesday evenings, but the following afternoon the leavers' reception would be held. Martin's father would be there, and in accordance with the school's normal tradition, he'd take the boy home with him. This would be their last meeting.

"I'm going to miss you terribly," Mike said quietly. "When we first got together I never dreamed things would develop the way they have. You've done fantastically well; I'm so proud of you."

"You never dreamed?" Martin replied, grinning. "Well I didn't either. I'd no idea; not a clue. Of course I'm excited about going to Winsthorpe, but I'm going to miss you too. None of this would have happened if you hadn't been there for me."

"Well remember what you've learned and make the most of your opportunities," Mike said.

"I will," Martin said, rubbing noses with him. "That's a promise."

Their lips joined together in another passionate kiss. For the next twenty minutes they kissed, they caressed, they sucked, they fondled; both determined to make the most of the time they had together.

"Are you going to fuck me?" Martin said finally.

"Is that what you want?" Mike asked.

"Of course it is!" Martin said, smiling. "You know I love having you inside me."

"So how d'you want it?" Mike enquired. "Wearing shorts?"

"Not today," Martin said. "Remember the first time I came here?"

"Yeah," Mike confirmed. "I had you on your tummy with a pillow under you. So is that what you want?"

"Yeah," Martin responded.

After making the necessary preparations, Mike slowly eased himself into position. He looked down at Martin, lying submissively beneath him. Whatever boys he might meet in the future, he decided, this one would always have a very special place in his heart. Fifteen minutes later, Martin was fully dressed and leaving the apartment for the last time. Mike watched him go, wiping away a tear as the boy who had been such an important part of his life disappeared from view.