Pink Panther's

HARTSWOOD PRIORY

A Sporting Challenge
Part 6 - 11

Part Six

"I guess I'm not going to be in the team again after yesterday's performance," William offered as they lay snuggled up on Jim's bed. "I know I haven't played well enough."

"No, I'm afraid not," Jim said. "For one thing you looked really upset after the match."

"I was," William admitted. "I hate letting people down."

"Yes, I realise that," Jim said, stroking the boy's smooth blond hair. "Rugby's not your sport; it's not fair to put you under that sort of pressure. I'm pleased to say Jeremy understands that now; he had a word with me when we got back."

"Thanks sir," William said, looking relieved.

"I can also tell you that I've arranged with the caretaker to have the high jump landing area set up in the gym so you'll be able to practise right through the winter. It seems silly for the governors to spend all that money if we're only going to use it for three months each year."

"Thanks," William responded, smiling. "That'll be great."

They lay there without speaking for what seemed like ages.

"Are you okay?" Jim enquired. "You seem very tense; what's the problem?"

"I don't know how to say this," William said, looking uncomfortable. "Toby knows I'm going with you and Jeremy. Nobody said anything; he just sort of worked it out, you know what he's like."

"Worked it out?" Jim queried. "How did he manage that?"

"Well, after the first training session we all had a shower. When I was getting dry I must have bent down right in front of him; I didn't even realise I'd done it. Anyway, he noticed, er . . . , you know."

"Fair enough," Jim said gently. "But that could have been anybody."

"Yeah, but when we came back into the changing room after the first trial, Jeremy was really nice to me, telling me how well I'd done. You were too. Jeremy's not usually like that, especially not to boys in our year. Toby just put two and two together. He said he only asked me about it because he was worried you were making me do it. I told him you weren't so everything's cool."

"Why on earth should he think that?" Jim asked, looking at William incredulously.

"Toby made me promise not to tell anyone," William said, almost in tears. "He'd kill me if he found out I'd said anything; well, not kill me exactly but he'd be very angry."

"Anyone probably doesn't include me," Jim said, trying to sound gentle and firm at the same time. "And in any case, he's not going to find out you've told me, so come on; I need to know."

"You remember Mr. Atkinson?" William asked nervously.

"Yes," Jim said, dreading what he was going to hear next.

Over the following five minutes, William relayed everything that Toby had told him about what had happened with him, Mr. Atkinson and Alex.

"So that's why he left in such a hurry!" Jim exploded. "I knew he wasn't right!"

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you sir?" William asked nervously.

"I'll have to tell Mr. Halford," Jim said gently. "We need to make sure that Mr. Atkinson can't get a job in another school and do that to some other boys. Don't worry; Toby won't find out. You do understand, don't you?"

"Yes sir," William said quietly. "I think so."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

John Halford listened in stony silence as Jim carefully repeated everything that William had told him.

"What puzzles me is how he got a key to the trunk store," Jim concluded.

"Oh, I know how he did that," John said angrily. "You remember the time two years ago when we'd been back at school for about two hours and Oliver Jameson's appendix burst? I was running round looking after him, arranging to get him taken to hospital and so on. Atkinson asked if he could be of any assistance, suggested he could supervise the boys putting their trunks away, so I gave him the key. He didn't give it back for a couple of days, but you know what it's like at the beginning of the school year; I never thought anything of it. The bastard must have had a copy made."

"Oh," Jim said. "So what happens now?"

"I'll have a word with Alex," John said, still seething. "Get him to confirm it all, not that I doubt it for a moment; Toby can be a bloody nuisance at times but he's not a liar. In any case it makes a lot more sense than the cock and bull story Atkinson gave us." He paused for a moment, looking straight at Jim. "You're wondering why I'm so angry," he continued. "I pride myself on knowing what goes on in this place; I do not like being taken for an idiot. Anyway, once I've checked things with Alex, I'll let Gordon know; he'll put the message round, make sure Atkinson can't get a job anywhere else."

"Apparently William was told all this in confidence," Jim said quietly. "He's very concerned about Toby finding out."

"He won't," John replied emphatically. "Leave it to me; it'll all be done very discreetly." He exhaled sharply. "I guess we should be thankful for small mercies. You know what Toby's like; if Atkinson had called his bluff, he'd have carried out his threat. The school would have been finished and we'd have all been out of a job."

"Why d'you think Toby didn't come to you?" Jim queried.

"Toby and I have had a pretty difficult relationship over the years," John said. "I've had to discipline him more times than I'd care to count; I guess that's the main reason. But he got rid of the bastard; I've got to give him that, not bad for an eleven year old."

Jim excused himself and made his way back to the gym. He considered whether he ought to tell Richard Burman, but decided he shouldn't. He'd given the information to the people who needed it; Richard wasn't one of them.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Third year gym class had just finished. Jim stood surveying his young charges as they showered and dressed. Although these soon-to-be-eleven year olds had yet to reach the full flowering of their pubescent beauty, there were some delightful specimens on view.

Darren Proctor was at the top of the pile, slim but strong; pale blue eyes and a dusting of freckles over his nose, his short blond hair and well-defined features fitting perfectly with his status as a promising rugby player who was expected to make the school team the following season. Such appearances, however, were far from the whole story; since the first week of term Darren had been the younger friend of fly-half Julian Lees, the evidence of their union readily apparent.

Next in line was new boy Patrick Naylor, a slender lad with collar-length, ash-blond hair, twinkling blue eyes and a quite beautiful smile; he was both boyish and pretty, a combination that Jim found almost irresistible. Patrick turned away from him, bending down to slip on his underpants. The boy's anus was clearly visible which it certainly hadn't been a week earlier. Jim's pulse quickened; had Patrick been de-flowered, he wondered; that was certainly the way it appeared.

Simon Whitney emerged from the shower; cute and sexy, there was no other way to describe him. He was fully erect. There wasn't anything unusual about that; it seemed to happen every time. The boy grinned knowingly at Jim, licking his lips. Jim was sorely tempted; for all his devotion to William, a little dalliance with Simon would be a more than welcome diversion. William could hardly object; not only was 'his boy' having sex with Jeremy, Jim had a strong suspicion that he was sharing his bed with Toby as well.

Simon turned around, reaching down to dry his feet. His sphincter twitched provocatively; it was perfectly obvious what he wanted. Simon had yet to find an older friend this term; cute as he was, the fact that he'd been Tim's younger friend the previous year counted against him. Jim checked himself; in a few minutes the bell would sound for the start of the lunch break, but doing anything at that point would be far too hazardous. Simon was part of a little gang; Simon, Patrick, Lee Sheldon and Deon Hayes were pretty well inseparable. If he took Simon into his office when the class finished, his friends would start asking questions, and that would never do.

Simon took his time getting dressed, seeming somehow to mislay things then having to turn out his sports bag in order to find them. The lunch bell sounded. His three friends were ready to go; he wasn't.

"You carry on," he said brightly. "I'll catch you up."

The other boys made their way out. Simon waited until they'd all gone before calmly standing up, the hard bulge in the front of his shorts very much in evidence. He smiled at Jim, who was standing outside his office.

"Not now," Jim said firmly. "Your friends will wonder what's taken you so long. Tomorrow morning, get up as soon as the bell goes, a little earlier if possible. As soon as you're showered and dressed, come down here; I want you here by ten past seven. And no telling your friends about it, understand?"

"Perfectly, sir!" Simon said, giving Jim a beautiful smile.

Jim stood and watched as the boy disappeared through the changing room door.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim sat in his office reading The Times. He checked his watch; it was five past seven. He went back to his newspaper. A few minutes later there was a light tap on the door. He opened it to find Simon standing there, smiling.

"Well done," Jim said, strolling past to lock the changing room door. "And you haven't said anything to your friends?"

"No sir, of course not," Simon said firmly.

"And no telling them about it afterwards," Jim said, looking the boy right in the eye.

"Sir, Simon said, looking offended. "I said I wouldn't and I won't."

"Sorry," Jim said, giving the boy's shoulder a squeeze. "I just need to be sure. You know what Lee's like; any hint of something going on and he'll want to know all about it."

"Oh, don't worry sir," Simon said brightly. "If they ask me where I've been, I'll say I had a bad tummy; I've been sitting on the loo."

"Excellent!" Jim said, closing the office door and resuming his seat. "So you've not found an older friend yet?"

"No sir," Simon responded.

"You will," Jim said reassuringly, running his hand up the inside of Simon's thigh. "It's still early days yet. So I guess you won't have done anything since Tim left."

"Well, I wouldn't say that, sir," Simon said, stifling a giggle.

"Really?" Jim said, smiling back. "Sounds interesting!"

"Well sir," Simon said. "Mum and dad sent me to this children's holiday centre for three weeks. I tried to hang out with some of the older boys, but they had different activities so it was hard to do that; they didn't seem to want me around anyway. But there was this soccer coach there; he was nineteen, I think he was a student. I saw the way he was looking at us, you know. Well, he was really nice looking so I went with him."

"Very good!" Jim said, reaching up to undo Simon's shorts. "So what did you do?"

"He fucked me, of course," Simon said, making it sound like it was nothing out of the ordinary, "every day, twice a day sometimes."

"Did he now?" Jim queried, becoming more aroused by the second. "I bet you enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"Yes sir," Simon confirmed. "He'd got a beautiful cock, a lot like yours actually."

"So how long ago was that?" Jim enquired, pushing the boy's shorts down over his hips.

"I came home about a month ago," Simon said.

"So I guess you'll be pretty tight by now," Jim said quietly. "Are you sure you'll be able to take mine?"

"I'll be okay," Simon said, grinning. "Greg, the soccer coach, taught me a little trick."

Jim reached up and pulled down Simon's underpants. He took a deep breath then leaned forwards, plunging down on the boy's slim erection, running his tongue all over the small, shiny head.

"Oooh sir!" Simon breathed. "That's nice! Greg never did that!"

Jim smiled inwardly; for him, maximising the boy's pleasure was an essential part of it; the more the boy enjoyed his ministrations, the more aroused he became. He applied some lubricant to his fingers; slipping his hand between Simon's legs he quickly located the boy's pucker. He pushed. Simon relaxed and admitted him. Jim thrust his finger in deep, hitting the boy's prostate. Simon's penis twitched violently, jamming itself against the roof of his mouth. He pushed in a second finger; it went in as easily as the first.

Jim was consumed by lust. Simon was as cute as any of the Hartswood boys he'd been with, and the smallest by some margin. He withdrew his fingers and retrieved the pillow, throwing it onto the desk.

"Bend over," he ordered, positioning Simon on top of it.

He moved around behind, smearing lubricant onto his penis and guiding it onto its target. He pushed hard. For a moment nothing happened. Suddenly Simon relaxed. His anus dilated, allowing Jim to slip inside.

"Hmmm!" Jim commented, almost caught off-balance. "Very good! Your soccer coach must have taught you well!"

"Yes sir!" Simon gasped, his sphincter still adjusting to the large intrusion.

Jim continued to push, his penis slowly disappearing into Simon's rectum. Within seconds his stomach was pressed tight against the boy's bottom. He paused, marvelling at the sensations; now that he was inside, the boy was exceptionally tight. After a few seconds he began to move, going quite slowly at first. Gradually he picked up the pace, fucking the lad harder with every thrust.

Simon moaned and whimpered, revelling in every second of it. He'd waited a whole month; finally he'd got what he wanted, a large penis thrusting repeatedly into his tunnel. Jim reached down, fondling the boy's stiff little prong. Simon bucked like a wild animal, his body wracked by violent muscle spasms, his boyhood swelling and jerking between the man's fingers. A few more thrusts and Jim's orgasm followed. His penis jerked powerfully, almost lifting the boy off his feet, copious amounts of semen filling the lad's rectum. After several seconds to bring his breathing under control, he carefully withdrew. Simon turned to face him.

"Thanks sir! he breathed, his eyes sparkling. "That was fantastic!"

"You'd better use the toilet," Jim said, indicating his private cubicle. "And take some of this," he added, handing the boy a large piece of cotton wool. "Put it inside your briefs when you've finished; we don't want you making a mess."

Simon shuffled awkwardly into the cubicle, his shorts and briefs still round his ankles. He sat down, allowing Jim's semen to run out of him. He cleaned up as best he could then pulled his up underpants around his thighs, placing the cotton wool inside before drawing them over his genitals. As soon as he'd finished dressing, he flushed the toilet and returned to the office.

"I'd better be going sir," he said, giving Jim a beautiful smile.

Jim unlocked the changing room door and sent him on his way.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The rugby team strode out onto the field. Their first two matches had been followed by a loss away to Queen Elizabeth's. They had performed heroically but had been repeatedly denied possession by a pack of forwards much bigger and stronger than theirs; there was no remedy for that.

Today they had a home match against Whitestone Hall, the fixture where everything had gone so disastrously wrong the year before. With Andrew Farnham refereeing the game, Jim had the luxury of being able to watch. From the first whistle it was clear there would be no repeat of the previous year's debacle; the Hartswood team was totally dominant. They had gelled superbly since the start of term, their teamwork well-drilled and ruthlessly efficient. Jim walked along the touchline, his shouts of praise and encouragement almost superfluous.

Simon and his friends were grouped together close to the halfway line, shouting enthusiastically. Jim strolled up behind them and listened. Since his get-together with Simon nine days earlier, there had been no repeat performance; the boy had not given the slightest indication that he wanted one. Jim was not unduly disappointed; it had been a delightful treat but he didn't want another long term commitment.

The first voice he heard was Lee's, shouting in support of Giles Madison. Jim already knew about that; Lee and Giles had been together since the summer. He soon discovered he'd been right about Patrick, who was keenly supporting inside centre Brian Harper. They were well-suited, Jim considered; they'd be good for each other.

Even Deon had someone to shout for, not his older brother, but Jonathan Moore, playing on the right wing. Jim chuckled quietly. Small for his age, rather plain and lacking any sporting talent, Deon had a cute little body and the largest penis of all the third year boys. Jim was pleased the lad wasn't being left out, but as both Deon and Jonathan were extremely shy, how they'd got together was a complete mystery.

Finally he heard Simon's voice. He was shouting for Pascal Donnelly, 'Paz', as the boys called him, playing on the left wing, the far side from where they were standing. Jim allowed himself a smile. Simon had done well; although only in Lower Fourth, Pascal was a star in the making. Simon had been a rock for Tim; he'd provide the same support for Pascal, very important as the boy settled into his new school.

The match ended with Hartswood having recorded a thumping victory. Afterwards, Jim chatted briefly to Andrew before heading for the changing room. He wondered if he ought to say something to make sure the lads kept their feet on the ground. He opened the door and went inside.

"Well done lads!" Jeremy was saying, his voice crackling with enthusiasm. "Fantastic performance today; we've worked hard and we're getting the results. But don't let's get carried away; we've got tougher matches to come so we need to stick at it. We'll see you all at training on Monday!"

Jim glowed with satisfaction, clapping and nodding his endorsement. There was nothing for him to add; Jeremy had said it all for him.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim's life continued serenely for several weeks. It was now early December. At around quarter past four he left the rugby team under the watchful eye of Andrew Farnham while he went back to school to help William with his high jump training. He found the boy sitting on the landing area looking completely dejected.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"I don't know sir," William said disconsolately, shaking his head. "I just feel so tired all the time. And now when I try to jump I've got a pain in my right heel."

Jim looked at the lad. He was growing rapidly, his tiredness the inevitable consequence.

"Take your shoe off," he said quietly.

He examined William's foot; there was no bruise. He pressed his thumb against the bottom of the boy's heel.

"Owwww!!" William protested.

Jim put his arm around the lad's shoulder.

"You're growing very quickly at the moment," he said gently. "All your energy is being diverted into that; that's why you feel tired. One of the things that happens at your age is that the bones in your heel join together. While that's going on everything's a bit sensitive; you've given it a bit too much work to do so it started to hurt. You're going to need to rest it. We finish for Christmas in two weeks. Knock it on the head till we get back; let's see how it is then. Meanwhile, just take things easy, okay? Don't worry, you'll be fine."

"Thanks sir," William said, smiling at Jim and snuggling closer.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Returning to school in January, William seemed much more like his old self. It was not to last. After barely two weeks the fatigue returned and a few days later the heel flared up. Once more, Jim curtailed the boy's activities, not only his training but games and gym as well. Two weeks passed. By then, all appeared to be well, with William champing at the bit, eager to get back to normal. Somewhat apprehensively, Jim agreed. His misgivings proved well-founded; within a matter of days the boy broke down again.

"Why sir?" William sobbed. "What's wrong with me?"

"Sssshhhh!!" Jim whispered. "You're growing up; that's all. These things happen; it's not uncommon."

"None of the other boys keeps getting injured," William countered, his frustration all too obvious.

"That's true enough," Jim admitted. "Some boys get these problems; most seem to get by pretty much unscathed. That's just the way it is. But one thing I can tell you is that you will get through this, and the talent will still be there. You'll just have to trust me, okay?"

"Thanks sir," William mumbled, pacified for a while at least.

The pattern was established, short periods of activity interspersed with longer ones of enforced rest. William became fretful, his frustration mounting, the self-belief draining out of him. Characteristically, he put on a brave face in front of his friends, who seemed blissfully unaware of the problems he was experiencing. Jim steeled himself. It was easy to coach a talented athlete when everything was going well; this was the real test. He'd started William on this journey; he was not going to abandon him when things were at their most difficult. He'd have to nurse him through it. It was not going to be easy; William was gentle and sensitive; he'd begun to doubt his own abilities. He was going to need all the love and understanding that Jim could give him.

Throughout this period, their clandestine meetings continued. On his good days, William was as keen to have sex as he'd ever been. On others he needed hugs and gentle reassurance, and that's exactly what Jim provided. On several Sunday mornings they lay on Jim's bed, cuddling and chatting with matters not progressing any further. Jim hardly noticed the reduced level of sexual contact. Helping William through his difficulties was the priority and nothing was going to deflect him from it.

As the boys dressed after rugby training, he called Jeremy to his office.

"You'll need to be very gentle with William at the moment," he said quietly. "He's having a rough time. If he doesn't feel like having sex, don't push it, okay? I'm doing my best to get him through it; I need you to help me. Chat to him, cuddle him, tell him how special he is."

"Yes sir, I understand," Jeremy said, smiling. "After all, he is special, isn't he?"

Jim sent the rugby captain on his way, allowing himself a smile; the ever-loyal Jeremy would do as he'd been asked.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After the Easter holiday, William returned to school refreshed and eager to begin the new athletics season. For more than a week all went well. He felt sharper and his right heel seemed to have finally settled down; in both high jump and hurdles he was getting back to the standards he'd achieved the year before.

It was lunchtime. Jim strolled out onto the field, heading for the high jump. He had given William permission to practise on his own when there were no younger boys there keeping the bar lower than he needed it. He found the boy sitting on the landing area, his face streaked with tears.

"What's the problem?" he asked gently. "Is your heel playing up again?"

"It's my legs, sir," William said, indicating his shins. "They're really sore; I can't push off properly."

Jim cursed inwardly. The problem with William's heel had been replaced by shin splints, another common injury; the boy wasn't having much luck. There was nothing for it; he'd have to rest again until it cleared up. It was a bitter disappointment. Jim accompanied the boy as he almost hobbled back to the changing room.

He began to feel suddenly uneasy. Was William going to be one of those lads that lurched from one problem to another, never staying free of injury for long enough to achieve their full potential? He mentally kicked himself, banishing the thought from his mind. William needed him to be strong; if he lost faith the cause was hopeless.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim sat down to lunch with John Halford and three other colleagues.

"How's William getting on?" John enquired. "I haven't seen much of him this term."

"He's struggling at the moment," Jim said. "He's been having injury problems since before Christmas; it's mainly because he's growing so fast. I'm hoping to have him out for Sports Day, but I don't expect him to do too much before that."

"You're too soft, man!" art master Alan Townsend barked. "Keep him going; he'll get through it!"

"My best friend at school was an outstanding rugby player," Jim said evenly, looking straight at the man, "far better than I ever was. When we were fifteen he got a hip injury. The school kept him going; he played match after match. By the end of the season he could hardly walk, let alone run. When he went home for the Easter holidays his parents took him to the hospital. He'd done serious, permanent damage. He never played again. Nothing like that is ever going to happen as long as I'm in charge."

There was an uneasy silence. Jim kept his eyes trained on the art master, mid-fifties, stockily built and with a reputation as a strict disciplinarian; definitely one of the old school. The older man's eyes darted left and right, as if seeking support. He didn't get any.

"Hmphhh!" he snorted. "Must be going!"

He stood up and stomped away, returning his tray to the servery.

"You certainly put him in his place," Mike Thompson commented, grinning at Jim. "It's exactly the same with the runners; you have to be so careful."

"Alan is a good artist and an excellent teacher," John Halford said quietly. "He is also a decorated war hero. Unfortunately, he thinks he's still fighting it."

John stifled a chuckle. Not for the first time, the deputy head's eloquence had summed things up perfectly.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

William's enforced inactivity allowed Jim to spend more time working with the other high jumpers. While they were all reasonably proficient, the only one who showed anything like the talent that William had was the youngest member of the squad, second year Gavin McIntyre.

Physically, Gavin was like a smaller version of William, tall for his age and pencil slim. The resemblance ended there. While William was a model student, Gavin was the naughtiest boy in the entire school. The short but unruly sand-coloured hair and sharp features covered in a rash of freckles summed him up him perfectly; the lad had mischief written all over him. Although he never caused a problem in games or gym, he was constantly in trouble in other classes, mainly because he couldn't sit still for more than two minutes. He was a bundle of pent-up energy that was constantly looking for somewhere to unleash itself.

He was sexually precocious too, being one of only two second year boys to have acquired an older friend, Max Hartley-Taylor, the biggest boy in the school, who apart from playing alongside Jeremy in the rugby team, spent his time listening to rock music and doing as little work as he could get away with. According to 'the rules', Upper Fourth were not meant to go with second years, but John Halford took the view that splitting them up would probably make things worse, and as, by all accounts, it had been Gavin's idea, the relationship had been allowed to continue.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

William was not there; he hated watching when he wasn't able to take part. Gavin ran up, attempting a height that most of the older boys could barely manage. Although they were not allowed to wear underpants for most activities, high jump was an exception. All the other high jumpers were wearing them; typically, Gavin wasn't. He sailed gracefully over the bar. Being so slim, his marble sized balls and circumcised penis were completely exposed. He swaggered back across the run up area, a mischievous smile on his face. Jim caught his breath. For a ten year old, the lad was incredibly sexy.

"Okay, everybody!" Jim said, smiling broadly. "Well done today. Gavin, you stay behind; the rest of you, off you go, get showered and changed. I'll see you all on Thursday."

As the older lads wandered back to the pavilion Jim raised the bar so that it was almost level with the top of Gavin's head.

"Okay, young man!" he said briskly. "Let's see what you can do."

Gavin ran in, a look of steely determination on his face. He drove upwards. His body cleared the bar quite comfortably only for him to graze it off with his calves. He punched the landing bed in frustration.

"One more try!" Jim called.

Gavin trotted back to his starting position. He stared at the bar, rocking gently backwards and forwards, focussing on what he needed to do. Finally he ran in; it was another narrow failure. He gave Jim a wry grin.

"Okay, that's enough for today," Jim said, smiling. "You'll get that soon."

They covered up the landing area then returned the equipment to the store, Jim carrying the bar and one upright while Gavin eagerly carried the other. The task completed, they headed back to the changing room.

Jim resisted the temptation to put his arm round Gavin's shoulder. He had a very soft spot for him. His impetuous, unruly behaviour had seen him repeatedly excluded from the state primary school he'd attended, driving his parents to their wits end. Although by no means rich, they had scraped together the money to send him to boarding school. But even at Hartswood with its small classes, several of Jim's colleagues found the lad difficult to control. The strange thing was that Gavin was as likeable a boy as you could ever meet; there was not an ounce of malice in him. He had talent too. Given the right support and encouragement, Jim reasoned, he might learn to control his behaviour. That was, after all, what his parents were paying for.

They stepped inside just as the other boys were preparing to leave.

"May I have a shower, sir?" Gavin asked.

"Yes, but make it quick," Jim said, "you don't have long."

Within seconds Gavin was out of his sports kit and trotting into the showers. Telling him to make it quick was hardly necessary, Jim reflected; it was what he always did. Less than two minutes later he was back, his three inch penis as hard as a rock. He posed provocatively, a mischievous grin on his face. Jim took a deep breath. The temptation was too great to resist.

"Well now," he said quietly. "It seems like you've got a little problem."

Gavin reached down, stroking his genitals.

"Unfortunately we don't have time to sort it out right now," Jim continued. "You've got to go to prep."

"Do I have to, sir?" Gavin asked imploringly. "Couldn't we say I was helping you or something?"

"Sorry," Jim said, smiling, realising only too well how difficult Gavin found it to sit still for a whole hour, "but prep it is. Tomorrow morning, get up a bit early. As soon as you're washed and dressed come to my office. Make sure you're there between seven and ten past, okay?"

"Yes sir," Gavin said, still grinning.

"And no saying anything, not even to that little friend of yours." Jim concluded.

"I won't sir," Gavin assured him.

Gavin threw on his school clothes and hurried out of the pavilion.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

There was always a special frisson of excitement, waiting for a boy like this; first Jerome, then Simon, now it was Gavin's turn. Jim tried to pass the time reading the morning paper, but found concentration impossible. Finally there was a knock on the door, the knock he'd been waiting for.

"Come in!" he called.

Gavin entered, his sandy hair looking even more unruly than usual. Jim strolled past him, locking the changing room before returning to the office. He closed the door and sat down, the lad standing in front of him. The boy's erection was making a very obvious bulge in his shorts.

"Hmmm!" Jim said quietly, stroking Gavin's long slim legs. "It seems you've still got that little problem. We'll have to see what we can do about it."

He reached up, opening the boy's grey school shorts. They fell around his ankles, revealing a pair of white nylon gym shorts.

"What are you wearing these for?" Jim asked, somewhat taken aback.

"So you can fuck me in them," Gavin said nonchalantly.

"Really?" Jim said, raising and eyebrow. "Is that what Max does?"

"He does sometimes," Gavin confirmed.

"And you like that?" Jim probed, becoming more aroused by the second.

"Yeah!" Gavin breathed.

Jim pushed up the leg of Gavin's gym shorts, exposing his erect penis. He leaned forwards, taking it into his mouth. He sucked it hungrily, savouring the taste of hard, pre-pubescent boy. It was the most delicious taste in the whole world; there was nothing that could compare with it. He pushed his hand between Gavin's legs, inserting a well-lubed finger into the boy's anus. There was no resistance. He pushed in a second finger, the fact that the lad was used to having Max's well developed penis inside him perfectly obvious.

He let the boy go, allowing his shorts to fall back into place. He stood up, placing the pillow on the desk. Gavin got into position without even waiting to be asked. Jim stood behind him. With Gavin being so slim, he reasoned, this wouldn't be difficult at all. He pushed a finger up inside the boy's shorts, easing them down a little to give him more room. He got out his penis, quickly smearing it with KY. He pushed it up the leg of Gavin's shorts, guiding it carefully onto the boy's sphincter. He wasn't going to be gentle; he was sure Max wasn't. The lad wanted it hard and that's what he was going to get. He held him around the thighs, forcing his manhood right in with a single powerful thrust.

"Oooohhh!" Gavin gasped, his anus stretched almost to breaking point.

"I'm a bit bigger down there than Max, aren't I?" Jim queried in a low growl.

"Yes sir," the boy whimpered, still shocked by the size of the intrusion.

Jim set to work, thrusting his penis remorselessly into the lad's rectum. Gavin moaned and whimpered, the mixture of pain and pleasure driving him almost insane, his boyhood rubbing continuously against his coarse nylon gym shorts. He couldn't last. After barely two minutes he shuddered, his sphincter clamping tight around the games master's penis. A moment later his boyhood came to life, jerking and swelling in the confines of his shorts. He went suddenly limp, submitting totally to the man's lust.

Jim ploughed into the lad with even greater ferocity; sexy little Gavin was as hot and tight as he'd expected and he was going to give him what he'd come for. Another two minutes passed. Almost without warning Jim's orgasm was upon him. Instinctively he thrust his whole length into the boy, holding on tight as his semen exploded into the lad's rectum.

Finally he withdrew. Gavin farted noisily, Jim's semen making a large stain in the crotch of his gym shorts. To Jim's considerable surprise, Gavin simply pulled his grey school shorts back up again.

"Aren't you going to use the toilet?" Jim questioned.

"No, I love having the spunk inside me," Gavin said, grinning. "I'm going to breakfast now; I'll use the toilet afterwards, before I change into my underpants."

"Are you okay?" Jim asked.

"Yeah!" Gavin confirmed. "Thanks, sir; that was fantastic!"

"We must do it again some time," Jim quipped, unlocking the changing room door.

"Yeah, whenever you like," Gavin responded, his mischievous grin broader than ever.

He sauntered off, the man's semen seeping into his gym shorts.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

William did turn out for sports day. He won the high jump, labouring over the height he'd cleared the year before. He won the hurdles too, though in a slower time. He looked rusty and out of sorts, the rhythm and fluency simply not there. It was a major disappointment. As far as William was concerned it would be good to get the school year finished, Jim reflected, hoping that the new school year would bring the lad better fortune.

Before term ended, Jim managed three more clandestine meetings with Gavin. The routine was the same each time. Gavin always wanted Jim to fuck him in his gym shorts, and the games master was happy to oblige. Still three months short of his eleventh birthday, Gavin was as sexy as any boy Jim had ever encountered. He was brave too; although small and tight, at each subsequent penetration he made not a murmur of protest. Jim was very hopeful that their early morning encounters would resume after the summer holiday; with Gavin's older friend Max leaving the school, he felt sure they would.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After working so hard to help William through his problems, a period of relaxation in the Far East seemed a far more attractive proposition than it had the year before. It was an enjoyable experience but strangely unsatisfying. The boys were cute enough and very willing, but the reality was that they did it to earn money, and although they did an excellent job, Jim found he couldn't connect with them in the way that he did with the Hartswood boys, always aware that they'd perform with equal enthusiasm for the next tourist they met. He flew back to England pleased to have gone but in no hurry to return.

Back at home, Jim's thoughts turned to preparations for the new school term. He needed to purchase a new tracksuit, a pair of slacks and a few other items. Although the small market town where he lived provided well for his regular shopping needs, for more substantial items he needed to travel further afield. He set off for the much larger town ten miles away where there was a large modern shopping centre with extensive car parking.

After buying the tracksuit and a couple of smaller items, he made his way to a pub where he relaxed over lunch. Leaving the pub, he headed back to the shopping centre where he purchased the new slacks and the other things he needed. It was time to go home. On his way to the car park he went into the men's room, more as a precaution than anything else. Standing at the urinal, he became aware of a boy positioned a few feet to his left. Checking first that there was no-one else around, he looked across.

The boy, whom he guessed to be about twelve, had straight dark hair which, though not quite collar length, completely covered his ears. He was dressed in a red and white striped tee-shirt with very short sleeves, blue denim shorts that finished a few inches below his crotch, long, brightly patterned socks and well-worn training shoes. He was certainly cute, in a slightly rough, street-boy way; more to the point he was stroking his penis, uncut, erect and showing definite signs of development.

Jim immediately became aroused, his heart pounding in his chest. Never once had he picked up a boy in this manner. Although he had endured a long barren spell after his school days ended, he'd never had the time to frequent men's rooms looking for boys. In any case, he'd always considered the practice to be somewhat distasteful and extremely risky.

The boy looked towards him, grinning nervously.

"Got somewhere to go?" he mouthed.

"Yeah," Jim responded, jerking his head in the direction of the exit.

Jim zipped up, picked up his shopping bags and made his way out. Once safely clear of the place, he glanced over his shoulder, spotting the dark haired boy about ten yards behind. Uncertain what to do next, he stopped in front of a shop window, pretending to look at the display. The boy strolled up alongside him.

"You wanna take me somewhere?" he asked.

He was roughly spoken with a strong south London accent, very different from the Hartswood boys, his voice right in the middle of breaking.

"Yeah," Jim confirmed.

"Where are we goin'?" the lad continued.

"My flat," Jim told him. "It's okay; it's not far. Follow me to the car park."

The boy nodded. Jim made his way back to the car, the boy keeping a discreet distance behind. As he walked, Jim looked around suspiciously, checking to see if anyone was following them; all appeared to be well. Reaching the car, he put the bags in the back then got into the driver's seat. He made a final check. The boy was approaching the car; there was nobody else close. He unlocked the front passenger door, allowing the boy to get in next to him.

He endured one more nervous moment as he paid for the car park before driving through the exit barrier; in the event, the attendant took no interest. Finally they were on the road and he could relax a little.

"That's better," Jim said, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Ryan," the boy responded.

"Hi Ryan, I'm Brad," Jim said quietly, deliberately giving the lad his second name rather than the first. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen," Ryan told him.

It sounded about right, Jim thought. The lad wasn't that big, but his penis was thicker than most twelve year olds; his voice suggested thirteen too.

"You'll bring me back after?" Ryan demanded.

"Sure," Jim reassured him. "Have you done this before?"

"Nah," Ryan said, "just messed about with a couple of mates. I've tried a couple of times, but I got these fat old geezers wantin' to go with me; I didn't wanna do it with them!"

"Oh, I see," Jim said absently, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Yeah, a few months ago I saw this guy at the swimming pool," Ryan continued, "really fit lookin', great body. I was hopin' he'd pick me up but he wasn't interested."

"So you like older guys then?" Jim suggested.

"Yeah, as long as . . . , you know." Ryan said.

For a few seconds the car descended into silence, neither of them able to think of anything to say.

"Sorry if I seemed a bit nervous back there," Jim ventured. "I don't usually pick boys up like that."

"Well, you gotta be careful; the coppers might be watchin'" Ryan said casually. "So where d'you usually meet 'em?"

"I go abroad," Jim said, deliberately keeping it vague. "It's different there."

"There are rent boys here if you know where to look," Ryan said dismissively.

For a moment, Jim was shocked. He quickly realised he shouldn't be; Ryan inhabited a very different world from the one he was used to.

"So what d'you want to do?" he asked gently.

"Dunno," Ryan said, looking uncomfortable, "whatever you want."

There was another uneasy silence, Jim wondering whether the boy knew what he might be letting himself in for. To his surprise, Ryan came to his rescue.

"D'you wanna fuck me?" he asked pointedly.

"Yeah, if you're okay with it," Jim said casually. "Have you taken it before?"

"Nah," Ryan said, shaking his head. "Just know about it."

"Oh? How's that then?" Jim probed.

"There's this kid at school, right?" Ryan said quietly. "He was tellin' us about his cousin, goes out on the rent scene; went with this geezer who fucked him up the arse. Kid says his cousin wanted him to go rentin' too, but he says he didn't."

"Oh, right," Jim said, still somewhat taken aback.

"Well you can do it if you want," Ryan said nonchalantly.

They arrived at the flat. Jim unlocked the door, ushering the boy inside.

"Nice place," Ryan commented, looking around. "What job d'you do?"

"I work at a college," Jim said, unwilling to say what he actually did. "Sports coaching, that sort of thing."

"Oh, I knew you were into sport," Ryan remarked, nodding towards the bag containing the new tracksuit.

They made their way through to Jim's bedroom.

"Okay," take you shoes and socks off, Jim said quietly.

"Do I have to?" Ryan asked, pulling a face.

Jim looked at the boy quizzically.

"It's my feet . . . , you know," Ryan admitted, looking embarrassed.

"You can have a bath if you want," Jim suggested.

"Nah," Ryan said. "I'll only have to put this stuff back on afterwards."

"Just a minute then," Jim said, quickly retrieving an old bedspread from the cupboard.

He spread it over the bed, taking out a towel as well, and dumping it on the bedside cabinet. He turned towards Ryan, lifting the bottom of the boy's tee-shirt. The lad squirmed away.

"No, man" he said. "I wanna keep this on. Just take my shorts and pants off; we can do it like that."

Jim wasn't going to argue; in most of his assignations with the boys at school he didn't have them naked. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching up to open Ryan's shorts. They fell around his ankles revealing a pair of brightly patterned briefs. It appeared that they weren't too clean either. Jim quickly skinned them down the boy's legs. The lad was fully erect, his uncut penis about four inches long and medium thick, some sparse back hair beginning to sprout around the base, a pair of large, hairless balls hanging beneath.

"Beautiful cock," Jim commented. "Can you cum?"

"Yeah, man," Ryan said, "shoots all over when my mate wanks it for me."

Jim leaned forwards, taking it into his mouth. Ryan's personal hygiene left a lot to be desired but he wasn't complaining. He sucked eagerly, the musky smell of pubescent boy turning him on even more. He ran his hands over the lad's thighs, slim without being skinny and delightfully smooth. Ryan was breathing quite audibly, placing his hand on Jim's head. Not wishing the boy to ejaculate too soon, Jim pulled away.

"Very nice!" he breathed, licking his lips. "Did you like that?"

"Yeah," Ryan whispered. "Felt much better than just getting wanked."

Jim kicked off his shoes and socks, quickly stripping down to his jockey shorts.

"Let's get on the bed," he suggested.

Ryan climbed onto the bed, flopping down next to him. Jim put his arm around the boy's shoulder, intending to kiss him. Ryan tensed up; it was not the direction he wanted to go.

"Suck my dick again," he demanded.

Jim scooted down, resting his head on Ryan's tummy. He flicked out his tongue, wiping it over the head which was still covered by the lad's foreskin. He opened his mouth, pushing right down on it, savouring the warmth and hardness. He sucked it steadily, the head jamming itself repeatedly against the roof of his mouth, the boy's musky aroma spurring him on.

"Oh yeah, man!" Ryan groaned, pressing gently down on Jim's head. "Oooohh!"

Jim slipped his hand between Ryan's legs, quickly locating the boy's anus. He tickled it, gradually increasing the pressure.

"Uh! Uh! Uh!!" Ryan moaned.

Jim quickly pulled away; that had been close.

"Man! I was nearly cumming!" Ryan gasped, confirming what Jim already knew.

Ryan reached down, running his long slim fingers over Jim's penis, still trapped in his briefs.

"Feels big," the boy commented.

"Why don't you find out?" Jim suggested.

He lifted his hips off the bed, allowing the lad to pull his jockey shorts down around his thighs.

"It is big, isn't it?" Ryan remarked, raising an eyebrow. He stroked it gently, the touch of his fingers driving Jim almost insane.

Jim pushed his briefs down to his ankles and kicked them off.

"Will you suck it for me?" he asked.

Ryan held it around the base, eyeing it nervously.

"You won't cum in my mouth, will you?" he demanded.

"No, not if you don't want me to," Jim reassured him. "I'll tell you if I'm getting close."

"I don't mind you spunking up my arse but I don't want it in my mouth," Ryan insisted.

"Yeah, that's cool," Jim said gently. "Just mind your teeth, okay?"

Ryan leaned forwards, eyeing Jim's penis as though it were about to explode. Following Jim's example, he flicked out his tongue, licking the large bulbous head.

"Oh yeah!" Jim whispered.

Ryan moved in, closing his lips over it. He pushed slowly down until he was about to gag.

"Good boy!" Jim breathed. "Don't try to take too much; that's wonderful."

Very nervously Ryan began to suck, the boy's obvious lack of experience increasing Jim's arousal even further. He reached down the lad's back, a well-lubed finger homing in on the boy's sphincter. He pushed insistently, slowly ratcheting up the pressure. Ryan was extremely tight; it was several seconds before he entered him.

"Oooh, you'd better stop," Jim instructed, feeling his balls begin to tighten.

Ryan pulled away, Jim's finger slipping out of his anus.

"Have you ever tried sticking things up your bum?" he enquired.

"Yeah, sometimes," Ryan admitted.

"What?" Jim asked.

"I've got this big pencil my auntie gave me," Ryan said. "It's sort of rounded at the bottom so I use that."

"And?" Jim persisted.

"It hurts a bit when it goes in, but if I keep pushing it touches this hard spot up my arse, makes my dick feel all funny, like I'm bein' wanked off from inside. That's way out, man!"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it feels like," Jim confirmed, deciding not to elaborate. "D'you use any lube, Vaseline or anything?"

"Nah," Ryan said. "Should I?"

"Yes," Jim said, "makes it feel much better; doesn't hurt as much."

"Thanks," Ryan said, smiling.

Jim was familiar with the pencils Ryan was talking about; several of the boys at school had them. With a diameter of around three quarters of an inch they were only a fraction of what he was going to give him. Under different circumstances he wouldn't have even considered fucking the boy right then; he'd have preferred to make sure he was properly prepared. But this was a one-off, in all probability the only opportunity he'd ever have. He was not going to turn it down.

"Time to get you ready," he said with a note of quiet authority.

Jim applied more KY to his fingers. Scooting down again, he took Ryan's penis into his mouth, simply holding it there while he put his hand between the boy's legs. He touched Ryan's anus, pushing his index finger in as far as the first knuckle. He paused for a moment then pushed in deeper. He encountered the boy's prostate, Ryan's boyhood twitching in his mouth. He pulled back then thrust the finger in again. The result was the same.

Jim allowed the finger to slide most of the way out. Very carefully, he placed his middle finger behind it, pushing that one in as well. Ryan winced, attempting involuntarily to repel the intruders. Jim paused, waiting for the boy to relax. Eventually he was able to push both fingers in, hitting the lad's prostate again. Very carefully, he twisted his fingers around, forcing them apart to open the boy up as much as he could. That was it; Ryan was as well prepared as he was going to be. He slowly withdrew his fingers. He placed a pillow in the middle of the bed, took the towel from Ryan and spread it on top.

"On your tummy," he said quietly.

Ryan complied without a murmur, the pillow under his hips. Jim spread the boy's legs, kneeling between them while he smeared KY over his penis. He bent forwards, pulling Ryan's cheeks apart. Unused to such intrusions, the boy's sphincter had closed right up. Deep down, Jim knew he should abandon the attempt right there. It was not to be. Opportunities to take a boy's virginity were rare; he simply couldn't pass it up.

He'd been in his final year at school the last time he'd deflowered a boy, cute thirteen year old Bobby Taylor; he could remember it perfectly. It was the way things happened back then; when you took a younger boy you fucked him straight away; it was what was expected. Bobby had cried when he'd penetrated him. It didn't matter; most of them did the first time. Bobby had soon come back looking for more.

Jim made sure Ryan's underpants were readily to hand, reckoning he'd almost certainly need them. He lowered himself into position, using his left hand to hold the boy's cheeks apart, his right to guide his manhood onto its target. He pushed hard, forcing the head right through Ryan's sphincter.

"Yeeeeeowww!!!" Ryan screamed, the pain searing through him as though he'd been split in two, his erection disappearing in an instant.

"Easy, kid!" Jim soothed. "You've done the hard part. Just relax!"

After a few seconds he pushed in deeper, his penis thrusting over the boy's prostate.

"Aaaaaggghhh!!" Ryan protested, still unable to believe how painful it was; now he felt full and bloated too.

Jim grabbed Ryan's soiled briefs, stuffing them into the boy's mouth.

"Keep quiet!" he said quietly, growling into Ryan's ear. "You said I could fuck you so just lie there and take it."

He set to his task. Ryan lay helplessly beneath him, pinned to the bed. He couldn't believe what was happening. The pain was still there, so was the bloated feeling, but somehow they were being overcome, masked by feelings of sheer pleasure, generated each time the man's penis hit that sensitive spot deep inside him. In less than a minute his boyhood was harder than ever, rubbing insistently against the towel. He was almost delirious. He wasn't, was he?

He was. He shuddered violently, legs flailing, fingers clawing at the bed, his sphincter clamping even tighter around the man's invading penis. A moment later his boyhood swelled and jerked. Three jets of boy-cum squirted forth, making him all sticky.

"Good boy!" Jim growled. "I knew that was what you wanted!"

He ploughed on, fucking the boy as hard as he knew how. Ryan lay limply beneath him, his boyhood rapidly returning to full hardness. The man's orgasm was not long delayed. Ryan felt him tense up, hot breath swirling around his face.

"Here it comes!" Jim gasped, his breathing harsh and ragged. "Take my spunk! Yes! Yes! Yes! Nnnnnggg!!!"

Ryan lay there submissively, the man's penis jerking into action, volley after volley of thick creamy fluid flooding into his rectum. Suddenly it was over, the man lying motionless on top of him, his heart thumping against Ryan's back.

Eventually Jim eased his way out, his penis making its exit with an audible pop. He reached forwards, gently removing the soiled briefs from Ryan's mouth. Ryan felt suddenly empty. He pushed up onto his knees, some of the man's semen spluttering out and trickling down his legs. He couldn't believe how sore he was; his anus felt like it was on fire.

"I need the toilet," he said.

"It's over there," Jim said, "straight opposite."

Ryan got to his feet, walking awkwardly in the direction of the bathroom. After closing the door he sat on the toilet, Jim's semen rushing out of him like the worst diarrhoea he'd ever had. He was almost in a trance; he'd told Jim he could fuck him, but nothing could have prepared him for what it was actually like. He cleaned up as well as he could, but his anus was so sore he couldn't bear to touch it. He flushed the toilet and walked awkwardly back to the bedroom. Jim was already dressed.

"Are you okay?" the man asked.

Ryan nodded.

"Sorry I was a bit rough," Jim said. "I don't think there's anyone at home downstairs but I didn't want to take any chances."

"It's okay," Ryan said, giving him a wan smile. "It was just such a shock."

"It's always like that the first time," Jim assured him. "You did fantastic! That was amazing!"

Ryan pulled on his underpants. Jim handed him some cotton wool.

"Keep some of this in there for a couple of hours," he said gently, "save you making a mess."

Ryan did as Jim suggested, placing the cotton wool in the crotch of his briefs before pulling them into position. A minute later they were in the car, driving back the way they'd come. There was little conversation; neither of them had much to say.

Jim dropped the boy off on a council estate about a mile from the town centre. He turned the car round and headed for home. His head was spinning. The sex had been fantastic. Deflowering a cute boy like Ryan was the ultimate, the pinnacle, the sense of triumph at taking a kid's virginity quite incomparable.

But that was all it had been, just sex, and that's all it ever could have been; the bonds that made the relationships with 'his boys' at Hartswood so fulfilling were totally absent. There had been no talk of a second meeting; neither he nor Ryan had even mentioned it. In reality, it was a relief; as a one-off experience it had been the best ever, but Jim knew that as a relationship it could not have worked.

Jim wondered how long it would be before Ryan did that again. A few days for the soreness to wear off, he reckoned, and the boy would be back at the toilets, looking for another man to fuck him.

Part Seven

"Good morning, Richard!" Jim said brightly, greeting the music master's appearance a couple of days before the start of term. "How was the holiday?"

"Uneventful," Richard said. "I went abroad for a few weeks; a very pleasant way to spend the time but nothing more, it never is."

"About the same here," Jim responded. "All very pleasant but I've no urge to go rushing back. So I take it you haven't fixed up a successor for Leo."

"Not quite," Richard said, "I'm hoping to conclude that in the next few days, but we'll have to see."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The school year finally began. William was one of the group assigned to help the new boys find their way around. The task finally completed, he slipped away from his friends and made his way to Jim's office.

"Great to see you," Jim said, locking the changing room from the inside.

"You too, sir," William said. "I've really missed you the past few weeks."

Jim strolled back into the office and closed the door. He sat down, William standing in front of him.

"So how are you feeling now?" Jim enquired, looking lovingly at the boy.

"Great, thanks sir!" William said, giving Jim a beautiful smile. "I can't wait to get started."

Jim took in the sight before him, gently stroking William's thighs. The boy had changed over the holiday; he looked more beautiful than ever. The changes weren't anything major; his features a little more strongly defined, a noticeable huskiness in his voice, and at just over five foot six he was a fraction taller. Jim reached up, undoing the lad's new school shorts and pushing them down over his hips. William's was fully erect, his white briefs appearing fuller than they had previously. He pulled them down and smiled. The boy's testicles had almost doubled in size during the holiday; puberty had finally started.

William's above average height had not been an indication that he was an early bloomer. His parents were both tall; his father six foot three, his mother five foot ten; William simply took after them. Were the boy to grow to his father's height, Jim noted, his long-term potential as a high jumper and hurdler would be considerably enhanced. He hoped that the changes he'd observed would signal an end to William's injury problems, but it was too early to be sure of that.

"You're growing up," Jim said quietly, taking William's testicles in his hand and gently weighing them. "But we mustn't rush things. It's been a while since you were able to train properly, so we'll need to take things slowly to begin with. We've got the whole winter to get you right, so there's no hurry."

"Thanks, sir," William said, still smiling.

Jim leaned forwards, taking the boy's hard four inch penis fully into his mouth. He sucked it eagerly, easing back the foreskin and running his tongue over the small, shiny head.

"Oooh, sir!" William gasped, running his fingers through Jim's hair. "Ohhhhh!"

Jim slipped his hand between William's legs, a greasy finger pushing into the boy's anus.

"Uhhhh!" William groaned, the sensations in his penis quite overwhelming.

Jim pulled away, licking his lips.

"Beautiful!" he cooed.

"Are you going to fuck me, sir?" William enquired.

"Is that what you want?" Jim asked.

"Yes sir!" William confirmed. "I love having your big cock inside me. I haven't done anything all through the holiday; I never had chance."

Jim stood up, placing the pillow on the desk. William bent down, positioning himself over it. Jim took his time, gently working KY into William's bottom. After seven weeks the boy was wonderfully tight; maybe even tighter than Ryan had been; he didn't want to hurt him more than necessary. But unlike Ryan, William knew what to expect. He wouldn't scream, even if it was quite painful. Jim carefully inserted a second finger, working both fingers around to open the boy up. Finally, he pulled out; it was time to do it. He smeared KY over his penis and moved in close, guiding it onto William's sphincter. He pushed hard. With one well-practised movement William relaxed and allowed him inside.

"Ohhhh!" he gasped, the sudden stab of pain quickly subsiding.

"Good boy!" Jim breathed, continuing to press forward.

He thrust over the lad's prostate.

"Uhhhhh!" William moaned, a bolt of electricity arcing through his boyhood.

Instinctively Jim began to move, fucking the boy relentlessly, savouring the velvety warmth of the lad's tight little bottom. William groaned and whimpered, the heady combination of pain and pleasure transporting him to a level hadn't reached for months. Jim reached down, wrapping his hand around the boy's throbbing prong.

"Ohhh, sir!" William gasped, shuddering uncontrollably, his sphincter clamping tight around the man's thrusting penis.

A moment later William's boyhood jerked into action swelling and pulsing between Jim's fingers. Just a couple more thrusts and Jim's orgasm followed. His balls rose in their sac; a moment later his penis reared up inside William's bottom, several volleys of semen spurting deep into the boy's rectum. Finally he withdrew. William turned to face him, his eyes sparkling.

"Thanks, sir!" he breathed, throwing his arms round Jim's neck.

Jim drew him into a delicious, passionate kiss.

Ten minutes later, Jim unlocked the changing room door, sending William on his way. He was as high as he'd ever been; being joined to William again had fulfilled his every need. One-off sex with a boy like Ryan couldn't come close.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim headed to the music rooms to spend his morning break with Richard.

"So have your plans come to fruition?" he enquired.

"Unfortunately not," Richard responded. "I invited Patrick Naylor to accompany me to a concert in London, you know, my usual routine. He turned me down flat; very politely, of course, but he turned me down just the same. So I'm back to square one."

"I guess he'd have known what going to a concert with you was all about," Jim commented.

"Oh yes," Richard confirmed. "Leo talked to him about it for one thing."

"Oh, I see," Jim said absently, noting that the music master's modus operandi seemed quite different from his own.

"It's not a complete surprise," Richard continued. "I suspected since last term that it might not work out as I'd hoped."

"Oh, why's that?" Jim enquired.

"His father attended the summer concert," Richard explained. "He came to talk to me afterwards; had his arm around Patrick's shoulder. It appears that since his mother's death, Patrick and his father have become very close. That's never a good sign."

"No, I guess not," Jim said. "It always seems to be the waifs and strays that we end up with, the boys whose parents don't care a lot."

"Precisely!" Richard agreed. "We fulfil a need that their parents don't."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It was two weeks into the autumn term. All Jim's classes were working well, though after six years at the school it was no less than he expected. In addition, the rugby team was looking exceptionally promising. With the unexpected addition of new boy Marcus Northam, who had been sent down from his previous prep school for fucking one of the younger lads, and Grant Shipway, whose transformation from fat slob to muscular powerhouse had been nothing short of remarkable, for once they had a pack that would be a match for any of their opponents. Feeding from them, the half back pairing of Toby Redman and Darren Proctor was working beautifully, and although the three-quarter line was a little lightweight, in left-wing Pascal Donnelly they had a player of real flair and quality, someone who could turn a match on his own.

To complete the picture, William was looking better than ever, showing no signs of tiredness or injury, and several times each week he and Jim had had wonderful, uninhibited sex. Things could hardly have been going better. Jim should have been more than satisfied, but he wasn't. Despite everything, he hankered after the sort of clandestine encounter he'd had with Gavin the previous term. He was at a loss to explain it. He loved William; he'd never want to do anything to hurt him. He didn't even mind that the boy was sharing his bed not only with Toby, but with new rugby captain Robert Shearsby. It was the lure of forbidden fruit. Having one boy whom you looked after was within 'the rules', acceptable, though not officially, of course. Having one-off sex with other boys wasn't, and that made it an all too enticing proposition.

Jim had expected Gavin to come looking for him, to resume their liaison of the preceding summer term, but it hadn't happened. On the contrary, the boy seemed to be avoiding him. Gavin trained with the third year rugby squad, but Andrew Farnham looked after them, and so apart from games and gym classes, he and Jim had no contact. It was all very frustrating.

Third year gym class concluded. As the boys headed back to the changing room to shower and dress, Jim put some things away in his office. He emerged a couple of minutes later to find Gavin prancing naked around the changing room. The boy was striking the most overtly sexual poses, to the amusement of some of his fellows and the embarrassment of others.

"Gavin!" Jim barked. "See me afterwards! I want a word with you"

As the other boys filed out to morning break, Gavin waited behind, sitting obediently on the bench. Jim didn't bother to lock the door; he wasn't about to do anything.

"That was quite a show you were putting on there," he commented acidly.

"Yes sir," Gavin said.

"Being naked is fine," Jim said gently, "and if you get an erection you get an erection, but that got out of hand; some of the boys found it very embarrassing."

"Sorry sir," Gavin said. "I just got a bit carried away."

"I haven't seen much of you this term," Jim continued. "I thought you might want to continue . . , you know, especially now Max isn't here."

"Oh, I do sir," Gavin said, grinning, "but I want to find an older friend first. If I was doing it with you and then I found an older friend, they'd know, wouldn't they?"

Jim couldn't fault the boy's reasoning; in all probability they would know. Then awkward questions might be asked. It might even get back to William; he didn't want that.

"Fair enough," he said, smiling.

"Of course, once they've done me a few times, they won't be able to tell," Gavin said, smirking.

"Well, I'd better wish you luck then," Jim said, sending the lad on his way.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Lower fourth gym class trotted back to the changing room. The soon-to-be-twelve year olds were growing up just the way Jim liked them. He watched as they stripped out of their shorts and trotted through to the showers, taking particular note of fly half Darren Proctor, who looked more stunning than ever. The boy reappeared a couple of minutes later, picking up his towel and quickly drying himself; Jim couldn't take his eyes off him. As Darren bent down to dry his feet, Jim saw it; the boy's anus wasn't just visible, it was noticeably dilated.

Jim became aroused in an instant. Darren hadn't had an 'older friend' since Julian Lees' departure at the end of the summer term. As virtually all the 'older friends' were members of the rugby team, Jim kept himself fully informed of these attachments, quite unlike music master Burman, who kept himself aloof from such matters. Jim wracked his brain. The only person he could think of was Marcus, but that seemed unlikely; having been thrown out of his previous school, Marcus was treading very warily. But someone was fucking the boy; there was no doubt about it.

Jim made a snap decision. He'd find out who was responsible then seduce the lad afterwards. It would be a risky enterprise with no guarantee of success, but he was determined to try it. The risks, he calculated, were manageable. Darren was quiet, and although he got on well with just about everybody, he didn't have any really close friends that he associated with. As he returned to his place and began to get dressed, Jim came up behind him.

"Wait behind when the bell goes," he said quietly. "I need to speak to you."

He moved away from the boy, chastising the time-wasters and urging them to hurry up. He got his wish; by the time that the lunch bell rang everyone was ready to leave.

"Okay boys!" Jim announced. "You may leave quietly!"

They filed out, leaving Darren sitting on his own.

"You wanted to see me sir?" he said.

"Yes," Jim said, locking the changing room door.

He returned to his office, ushering Darren inside. He sat down, the boy standing in front of him.

"I understand that you haven't found yourself an older friend this term," he said quietly.

"N-no sir," Darren said nervously.

"Well, from what I saw just now," Jim continued, smiling, "you've been getting very friendly with somebody."

Darren looked agitated, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"Don't worry," Jim said soothingly, "you're not in any trouble. But I do keep an eye on these things; I just need to know who it is."

Darren didn't respond, looking even more distressed.

"I can't hear you, Darren," Jim said, reaching forward to stroke the boy's creamy white thighs. "I need to know."

"It's Robert, sir," Darren admitted, looking at the floor.

"Is it now?" Jim said, trying to suppress a note of triumph. "I thought he was with Peter Cranham."

"He is, sir,"

"So how did your little relationship come about?"

"Well, the thing is, sir, Peter turns up to the rugby matches and that, but he doesn't take any interest, not really. He never tells Rob how well he's played or anything like that; all he wants is sex."

"Oh, I see," Jim said, smiling. "So I guess that's where you come in."

"Yes sir," Darren said, grinning sheepishly. "Rob and I really help each other."

"Well, I can understand that," Jim said, looking the boy right in the eye. "Isn't Rob in charge of things this year?"

"Yes sir," Darren confirmed.

"Hmmm! He's not setting a very good example, is he?" Jim observed. "It's to be hoped that nobody finds out. Does Peter know what's going on?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Darren said apprehensively.

"Of course," Jim said, running his hand up to the bottom of Darren's shorts, "you could have me as a friend too; I'd like that."

"You want me, sir?" Darren asked, his eyes widening. "But what about William?"

"William doesn't have to know, does he?" Jim said quietly, "like nobody has to know about you and Robert."

"Oh, I see, sir," Darren said nervously. "Well, if you want, sir."

"Then next year, when Robert and William have left, you'd be my boy." Jim continued. "Would you like that?"

"Yes sir," Darren admitted.

"So meanwhile there's no harm in us getting to know each other, is there?" Jim persisted.

"No sir," Darren conceded.

"And nobody's going to find out, are they?" Jim said.

"No sir," Darren confirmed, "nobody."

Jim reached up, undoing Darren's shorts and easing them down. The boy's underpants quickly followed. Jim examined them. There was a tell-tale stain.

"Robert fucked you last night?" Jim enquired.

"Yes sir," Darren said, "Straight after supper; we went in the toilets by the science lab"

"Has he got a big cock?" Jim asked.

"Yes sir," Darren agreed. "He's much bigger than Julian was."

There was no arguing with that; Jim had seen Robert naked several times that term; he was very well-endowed for a lad still a few days short of his thirteenth birthday, his penis second in size only to that of prop-forward Adam Hayward.

Jim wrapped his fingers around Darren's erect penis, three and a half inches, slim and uncut, a little nozzle of foreskin sticking out past the tip. He licked his lips and leaned forwards, taking it fully into his mouth. He sucked it eagerly, working his tongue all over it, savouring its hardness. He squeezed KY onto his fingers, sliding his hand between Darren's legs and locating his pucker. He pushed inside.

"Ooooh, sir!" Darren groaned, holding Jim's head.

Instinctively, Darren began to pump his hips, fucking his boyhood into Jim's mouth, the man's finger still probing his anus. In just a few seconds he was there. He shuddered from head to toe, tightening his grip on Jim's head to stop himself falling over. His penis swelled and jiggled, desperately trying to pump out the semen his balls had yet to make.

Realising how sensitive the boy would be, Jim let him go. He was surprised how quickly he'd brought the lad to orgasm, but it was of no concern. Darren would be ready for more in no time; boys like him always were.

"Did you like that?" Jim enquired,

"Yes sir," Darren gasped, still struggling for breath.

"Excellent," Jim declared, standing up. "Now I'm going to fuck you."

He placed the pillow on his desk.

"Bend over," he instructed, positioning the boy over it.

He stood back to survey his prize, the evidence of Robert's recent penetration very much to the fore. He applied a little KY to his penis, moving in close to guide it onto the boy's sphincter. With one well-practised thrust he penetrated him, pressing steadily forwards until his pubic hair was pressed tight against the lad's bottom. He paused, marvelling at the boy's velvety tightness.

"Oh sir!" Darren moaned. "You're so big!"

"Yes," Jim said, in a low growl. "And now you're going to find out what a real fucking feels like."

He set to work, driving his penis remorselessly into the lad's rectum. Darren squeaked and whimpered, the mixture of pain and pleasure transporting him to heights he'd never believed possible, the intensity driving him almost insane. Once more, the man's fingers wrapped themselves around his throbbing boyhood. He bucked wildly, his body wracked by the most powerful spasms he'd ever experienced. His anus snapped shut, clamping Jim's penis like a vice, his stiff prong jerking and pulsing in the man's hand. It was his second orgasm in less than five minutes; he slumped limply over the desk, totally drained.

"Good boy!" Jim whispered, his breathing raspy and irregular. "Now find out what I've got for you! Here it comes! Yes! Yes! Aaaarrrggghhh!!!!"

His penis jerked violently, sending volley after volley of thick creamy semen deep into the boy's bottom. Finally he withdrew. For several seconds Darren remained exactly where he was. His anus twitched sharply, sending a trickle of semen dribbling down his legs. Very gingerly he stood up.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked gently.

"Yes sir, I think so," Darren responded. "Nobody ever fucked me like that before."

"You'd better use the toilet," Jim instructed, handing the boy some cotton wool. "You know what this is for?"

"Yes sir," Darren assured him. "I've got to put it in my pants so I don't make a mess."

He waddled awkwardly into the cubicle, his shorts and briefs still around his ankles. A few minutes later he re-appeared, fully dressed and smiling.

"That looks better!" Jim said, wrapping his arms around the boy's shoulder. He leaned forwards. Darren looked up at him, his mouth open, his tongue extended, their lips locking together in a passionate post-fuck kiss. After a minute they broke apart.

"That was great sir!" Darren said, his eyes sparkling. "Rob doesn't like kissing."

"Tomorrow morning, get up as soon as the bell goes," Jim said quietly, repeating his usual mantra, "a little earlier if you can. As soon as you're showered and dressed, come down here; make sure you're here by ten past seven, okay? That's going to be our regular time; I'll want you here at that time every Thursday morning, understand?"

"Yes sir," Darren replied, smiling. "I'll be here!"

Jim unlocked the changing room door, watching with quiet satisfaction as Darren headed towards the refectory. Unlike the other Hartswood boys he'd been with, Darren hadn't been presented to him on a plate; he'd had seduce the lad, which was not without its risks. But he'd pulled it off, and that was the sweetest feeling of all.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After the next third year gym class, Gavin's behaviour was far more restrained. He was lively, as always, but did nothing to cause embarrassment. Jim watched him carefully, taking particular note of the back view. He smiled to himself; there were definite signs that the boy might have succeeded in his objective. As his classmates made there way out to break, Gavin hung back, pretending he needed to repack his bag. As soon as the changing room was empty he swaggered across to Jim.

"I've got an older friend now sir," he said, smirking.

"Yes, I thought you might have," Jim said knowingly. "So who's the lucky boy?"

"Marcus," Gavin said, a broad grin on his face.

"Oh, so Marcus has finally taken the plunge, has he?" Jim queried.

"Not exactly, sir," Gavin said, frowning. "It was weird; Toby sort of introduced us."

"Oh, did he now?" Jim responded, stifling a chuckle.

It was just the sort of thing Toby would do, Jim reflected. Since his arrival, Marcus had attached himself to Robert and Toby; Toby had decided to help the big lad out. Toby wasn't actually in charge of anything; he wasn't even universally popular, but his influence was enormous. If one of Toby's friends needed something fixed, Toby would deal with it.

"Yes," Gavin confirmed. "I've been with Marcus twice now and I'm seeing him again after supper, so I can start coming down here again if you want."

"Very good!" Jim commented. "Tomorrow morning then; you know the time."

"Yes sir!" Gavin said eagerly. "I'll see you then!"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The pattern was established; Gavin on Tuesday mornings and Darren on Thursdays, neither of them knowing about the other. It was the perfect arrangement, completely satisfying Jim's craving for danger, excitement and variety. While the unruly Gavin performed with almost animalistic enthusiasm, Darren was the most delightful paradox. Outwardly, he was boyish and confident, even somewhat aggressive, especially on the rugby pitch; sexually he was submissive and affectionate. The contrast between the boys could hardly have been more clearly defined.

In between times, sex with William got better with each passing week, Sunday mornings at the flat being the highlight. Jim fucked the boy in every position he could think of, with William always eagerly coming back for more. But their sexual activities were only part of it. Not only was William training well, his confidence was back, even stronger than before. That extended to his studies, where he was making excellent progress, as all Jim's colleagues had noted. While not an outstanding student, William was on course to do very well in the Common Entrance examinations, a matter which had been in some doubt a few months earlier.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The half term break had come and gone. On the first day back, Jim entered the music room to find Richard Burman sitting at his desk, looking unusually pleased with life.

"Hello," Jim said brightly. "You're looking better; would I be right in thinking you've finally found a boy?"

"Yes, I have," Richard said, beaming, "and not somebody I'd have ever dreamed of."

"So who's that?" Jim enquired.

"Peter Cranham," Richard confided in hushed tones. "It was all most irregular. He approached me, asking if he could start a music appreciation society; he also suggested he could help me, you know, with stuff like sending out tickets for school concerts, that sort of thing. Of course, I told him he'd have to pull his socks up; I couldn't allow him to do that if he was wasting his time in all his classes. He agreed quite readily, so I accepted his offer; and to be fair he's knuckled down very well. Anyway, to cut a long story short, that wasn't all he was looking for."

"Really?" Jim said. "I thought he was Robert Shearsby's younger friend."

"Was being the operative word," Richard said. "It appears that Peter would rather be with me, while Robert . . ."

"Would rather be with Darren Proctor," Jim interrupted.

"Oh, you knew about that?" Richard queried.

"Oh, I have my sources too, you know," Jim said, grinning.

"Peter's family live near Clapham Common," Richard continued. "During half term he visited me at my flat in Belgravia. It was quite remarkable. It's not often that boys tire me out, but he certainly did."

"Sounds amazing," Jim commented. "No wonder you're looking so pleased with yourself."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Several weeks passed; Jim was busier than ever. Sitting in his office during a rare non-teaching period, there was a knock on the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to find Richard Burman standing there.

"Come in," he said brightly. "What brings you here?"

"Something untoward has occurred," the music master said, in hushed tones, closing the door. "It appears that Mr. Thompson has got into a relationship with Martin Greenhall, of all people. Yesterday morning he went back to Mr. Thompson's apartment in the gatehouse, after cross-country training I believe, only on this occasion he took Patrick Naylor with him. Ostensibly they were watching some races on the television, but when Patrick looked across, Martin had his shorts and pants down and Mr. Thompson was playing with him. All of which resulted in Patrick leaving the apartment in something of a hurry. I also understand that Mr. Thompson may have had other boys there, though I'm not certain about that."

"Oh dear!" Jim said. "I had no idea. How did you find out?"

"Confidential sources," Richard said airily. "I can't say any more than that. Actually, I did have an idea; Gordon briefed me when Mr. Thompson first arrived. I had a casual chat with him, but he told me he was engaged to be married, and from what the boys were telling me, he was a wonderful teacher and that was it, so I rather took my eye off the ball."

"Oh," Jim said inconsequentially. "I'm not totally surprised about Martin; I know Mike thinks a lot of him."

"Well, it seems there's not too much damage done," Richard continued. "Patrick's not making a fuss. However, I've arranged to go and see Mr. Thompson in his apartment this afternoon, your old apartment in fact, just to let him know how we do things. I think it would be useful if you came along; you probably know him better than I do. I've arranged to see him just after five."

"Yeah, that's fine," Jim said. "I'll be there."

As Richard left the office, Jim sat in his chair, rather annoyed that he hadn't spotted the young maths master's proclivities.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim attended the meeting with Richard and Mike Thompson, but his presence was of little consequence. Mike had made a mistake, believing that Patrick was fully aware of why Martin visited the apartment so frequently, which was not the case. But as Patrick hadn't complained, no damage had been done. Jim and Richard filled in their younger colleague on the Hartswood way of doing such things and left it at that.

Christmas was approaching rapidly. The rugby team had gone through the term unbeaten, an unprecedented achievement, highlighted by a convincing win against an admittedly rather ordinary Queen Elizabeth's side, a team they'd never previously beaten. More remarkably, in wet conditions that had made running rugby almost impossible, they'd squeaked a narrow victory against a very good Martlington team, though only because the Martlington place-kicker missed several attempts at goal that Pascal would have landed with his eyes shut.

Back at school after the Christmas holidays, things continued in much the same way. The home fixture against Queen Elizabeth's came up in early February. Queen Elizabeth's began brightly, as though eager to reassert their authority, but in front of their own supporters, the Hartswood boys repelled the challenge with ease, recording an even more emphatic victory than they had the previous term.

After the match, the team's reception was tumultuous. Jim was congratulated by all and sundry, including both John Halford and Gordon Chambers. Luck had played its part; Jim knew that they would rarely have a pack as powerful as their current one. Even so, victories like this were the product of seven years hard, dedicated work; Jim took great pride in knowing that he'd made such achievements possible.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The Common Entrance Examinations took place shortly after the half term break. At Jim's instigation, William had put in an application to Marlborough College. Apart from Millfield School, sports scholarships were something of a rarity. Although the obvious choice for the outgoing Russell Pearson, Jim considered Millfield, co-educational and very large, not to be an environment in which William would thrive. As far as athletics was concerned, Marlborough was the only other option. The fees, of course, were exorbitant. If William did not obtain a scholarship it was most unlikely that he would be able to go there.

At Jim's request, John Halford made the necessary enquiries. They were told that William would first need to win a place based on his performance in Common Entrance. If he did that, the college would advise them as to what athletic standards the boy would need to reach in order to be awarded a scholarship.

The examinations at an end, William seemed happy that he'd done himself justice. Jim just hoped he was right. The die was cast; all they could do was wait.

With the athletics season approaching, it was time for William's training to move into its next phase. There was a problem, however. William hadn't hurdled in almost a year, and although the weather was becoming warmer, the grass was still far too damp for him to hurdle at school. Instead, on Tuesday afternoons when the rugby team didn't train, Jim took him to the athletics track ten miles away. Within a couple of sessions, William was displaying all his earlier promise. Although these trips compounded Jim's already busy schedule, they did offer one important compensation. After each session ended, there was always time for them to visit Jim's flat before returning to school, allowing for some far more uninhibited love-making than was possible in the confines of the games master's office.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Term was coming to close. Going into their final match, the rugby team remained unbeaten, played seventeen, won seventeen, just one win away from a perfect season. Their final fixture was away at Martlington County Grammar School. Unlike the wet conditions they'd endured when the teams met before Christmas, the pitch was excellent and the weather sunny and moderately warm, with very little breeze. It suited Martlington perfectly. In the earlier match the muddy pitch and greasy ball had negated the speed and skill of their three-quarter line; on this occasion they simply ran riot, the Hartswood boys having the hurl themselves this way and that to try to contain them. Although Pascal's kicking kept the scores close, it was not enough; Martlington were simply too good, in Jim's estimation one of the best teams he had ever encountered.

In a way it was a relief. Completing a perfect season would have been a burden for all the teams that would follow; anything less might have been thought of as failure. Their loss in this final match left open at least the possibility of some future team going one better.

Early the following morning Jim and William were together at the man's flat, much as they were every Sunday. They were fucking, William lying on his back, his legs up, his feet resting on Jim's shoulders, Jim kneeling in front of him, his penis thrusting relentlessly into William's bottom. Jim resisted the temptation to push down between William's legs in order to kiss him; by remaining upright he could fuck the boy much harder, something they both enjoyed.

William's breathing shortened. He began to tremble, his fingers clawing at the bed, his eyes shut tight. A moment later, his penis jerked into action, three little jets of watery fluid spraying out over his chest and tummy.

"Oh, sir, sir!" William gasped. "I've done it! I've cum!"

Jim was elated; it was William's first ejaculation, one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. With his birthday at the end of April, William was not quite thirteen and so it had not arrived unduly late. And it was an important milestone, marking the lad's passage from boyhood to adolescence.

Jim increased his thrusting. Within seconds his orgasm was upon him. He fully impaled the boy, depositing yet another creamy load deep inside the lad's rectum. Slowly and carefully he withdrew, laying William's legs gently down on the towel that he'd placed beneath him. He immediately lay down, eagerly licking the little drops of fluid from William's body. Moments later they kissed.

"You've still got it in your mouth, sir!" William said, eyes sparkling. "I can taste it!"

"It tastes of you," Jim whispered, "the most wonderful taste in the whole world. You're a very special boy, William, the most special I ever met."

Once more, their lips met in a sensuous, passionate kiss.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Back at school after the Easter holiday, the athletics season began in earnest. Jim found himself facing a new challenge. The age groups for athletics dictated that in all important competitions William would have to compete against boys a year older. If he was to do that successfully, he would need to prepare, and that would involve going to other meetings where he could gain some experience. The couple of matches against other prep schools that they regularly took part in would not be adequate. In previous years, the summer term had provided Jim with rather more free time. This year it wouldn't; it was as simple as that.

They also maintained their weekly training sessions at the athletics track, moving them from the afternoon to the early evening, which enabled Jim to work with the other boys before they left. They still found time to visit Jim's flat before returning to school, opportunities of which they took full advantage.

Jim planned out William's programme of competitions, aiming everything towards the Sussex Schools' Championships, to be held in Brighton on the second weekend in June. Almost every week William was competing somewhere, South London, Brighton, or even further afield. It soon became apparent that when it came to the Sussex Schools, William would not win the hurdles. Ezra Campbell, a member of the Brighton club, was just as proficient over the hurdles as William, but being a year older he was stronger and faster. Unless the lad had a very bad race, the best William could hope for was second.

High jump was a different matter. William won all his competitions, including the Sussex AAA Boys' Championship where he set a new school record of 1.75 metres, (five feet nine). Jim knew that William could jump higher, but the breezy, showery weather they had endured had prevented it. How much higher the lad could go was impossible to say.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim was sitting in John Halford's office, the letter from Marlborough College having finally arrived. William had done well enough in Common Entrance for them to offer him a place. In order to be awarded a half-fee athletics scholarship he would have to run a time of 12.2 seconds for the eighty metres hurdles or clear 1.83 metres in the high jump, no later than the weekend of the county schools' championships.

The hurdles standard was unachievable. William's fastest time was thirteen seconds flat; to improve by almost a second was out of the question. The high jump standard, a fraction over six feet, though certainly tough was an altogether more realistic prospect.

"You'll obviously give William the letter telling him he's got a place," Jim said. "I'd rather we didn't give him the other one; it just creates unnecessary pressure."

"Fair enough," John replied. "I'll give that one to you for safe keeping. If he asks about the scholarship, tell him we're working on that, just keep it vague."

A few days later, they received the timetable for the Sussex Schools' Championships. The junior boys' hurdles and junior boys' high jump would both take place on the Sunday; the hurdles in the morning, the high jump in mid afternoon.

Jim was surprised the following morning when Toby came to see him.

"Sir, you know Will's competing down in Brighton a week on Sunday?" Toby asked, getting straight to the point. "Would I be able to come and watch?"

"Yes, if you want," Jim responded.

William and Toby had been friends since the day they'd started; he simply couldn't think of any reason to refuse.

"Should I take my camera, sir?" Toby continued.

"You can if you want," Jim said casually, "but you won't be able to get in close like you do when you're filming sports day."

"I'll leave it then" Toby said. "I still want to come and watch though"

"That's fine," Jim told him.

Toby sauntered off. Even though he'd known the boy for nearly five years, Jim still found it difficult to comprehend how he handled himself with such confidence. He'd breezed in, asked for what he wanted and got it. It was what he did.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Needing to reach Brighton by ten o'clock, they set off shortly after breakfast. Everyone was very quiet. That was the way Jim wanted it; it allowed William to stay focussed on what he needed to do. They arrived right on schedule. The conditions were perfect, warm and sunny with hardly a breath of wind. If William failed to reach the required standard there would be no excuses.

The junior boys' hurdles was the second track event, so William had to begin his warm-up almost immediately. Jim and Toby sat in the stand, waiting for the event to begin. Toby asked a few questions, but apart from that there was no conversation at all. Jim could sense an atmosphere, a tension in the air, a sense that Toby didn't understand his relationship with William, maybe didn't even approve of it. He brushed it off; he had more important things to concentrate on.

There were two heats for the junior boys' hurdles. William quite comfortably won the first one; Ezra Campbell won the second in a much faster time. They'd meet in the final an hour later. It all went off exactly as Jim had predicted, with Ezra Campbell winning the race and William finishing second, and although William ran a personal best, his time of 12.7 seconds was well outside the standard that Marlborough had asked for.

After the presentation William returned to the stand. Toby congratulated him enthusiastically then retreated into his shell, the uneasy atmosphere still evident. After an hour, William went to warm up for the high jump, Jim and Toby moving to sit on the grass opposite the high jump area in order to get a better view. The competition was intense and the standard very high. With the bar at 1.80 metres, there were still four boys left in, William and three others. William cleared it first time, as did one of the other boys. Another boy cleared on his second attempt; the remaining boy had three failures.

The bar was raised to 1.83 metres; there were three boys left. Jim's heart was racing; this was it, the crucial height. All three boys failed their first attempt. The first boy to jump failed his second attempt too. Then it was William's turn. After what seemed like ages, he ran up and cleared it.

"Yes!" Jim exploded, clenching his fist.

He could scarcely contain his emotions. Everything that he and William had been through together, all the work they'd put in, had finally come to fruition; there was no better feeling in the world. For William, his boy, to have achieved such a feat was all he'd ever wanted.

The other boys failed their remaining attempts, leaving William as the winner. After a word with the judge he asked for the bar to be raised to 1.85 metres. At his second attempt he cleared that too. It was the icing on the cake.

After the presentation he trotted across to Jim and Toby, his medal around his neck. He flopped down next to Jim, a big smile on his face.

"Well done," Jim said quietly, "You've just won a scholarship to Marlborough College."

He handed William the letter.

"I didn't tell you about this before," Jim explained. "I didn't want to put you under pressure."

William read the letter excitedly. He threw his arms round Jim.

"Thanks sir! Thanks!" he gasped, tears of joy running down his face. "This is fantastic!"

He jumped up, bouncing across to Toby and hugging him too. It was a scene of sheer happiness.

"Well done, sir" Toby said when they'd finally recovered themselves. He was smiling warmly, his hand extended. "I didn't get it before, you know," he continued candidly. "I understand now."

"Thanks Toby," Jim said quietly, accepting Toby's handshake and ruffling his hair.

In a strange way, Toby's approbation was important. Toby was highly intelligent, a thinker, a boy who made up his own mind. Following his experience with Mr. Atkinson, Toby had found it hard to accept his relationship with William. He'd finally understood what it was all about.

It was time to return to school. Had Toby not been with them they would almost certainly have stopped off at Jim's flat, but it didn't matter. It had been a long, tiring day. Back to school it was.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At eight o'clock the following morning, Jim strode into John Halford's office, William's medals in his hand.

"He's got his scholarship," he said curtly.

"Excellent," John said enthusiastically. "How high did he jump?"

"One metre eighty five," Jim told him. "That's six feet one."

"And how tall is he?" John queried.

"Five feet eight," Jim told him.

"So he jumped five inches above his own head?"

"Yeah."

"That's remarkable," John said, shaking his head. "It makes me giddy just thinking about it."

In assembly an hour later, William's medals were re-presented in front of the whole school, the announcement of the scholarship being made at the same time. As ever, John Halford was keen to draw out the significance of the boy's achievement

"What many of you probably don't know," he said in his usual quiet, authoritative tone, "is that last year William spent several months injured, hardly able to do anything. The important thing is he didn't give up. He stuck in there and this year he got back into his training and now he's reaped the reward."

William wiped away a tear. If Jim hadn't been there for him he would have given up; that was the really important thing.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The rest of the term passed almost in a blur. Quiet, unassuming William found his newly acquired status as one of the school's stars a rather surreal experience; He just couldn't think of himself like that. He was only glad that it was a burden he wouldn't have to carry for long. Sports Day was a triumph, with a string of excellent performances, and Toby's film of it the best he'd ever made.

Finally it was over. William's parents attended the leavers' reception. Nice people, Jim thought, even if they had stayed somewhat aloof from their son's upbringing; William seemed genuinely fond of them. His mother spoke to Jim at length, thanking him effusively for all the help he'd given. Jim wondered how effusive her thanks would have been had she knows just how close his relationship with William had been, but it was of no concern; she didn't know, and at that stage she wasn't going to find out.

As the gathering broke up, Jim's feelings were very confused. He was enormously proud of what William had achieved; it had been his pleasure and privilege to contribute to the boy's success. But he watched sadly as William left Hartswood Priory for the last time, his parents' car disappearing through the gate. When, he wondered, would he meet another boy to match him?

Part Eight

Jim didn't bother with the Far East. After being parted from William he simply couldn't face it. He'd never been so closely involved with a boy as he had with William, but it had finally come to an end and he had to move on; associating with paid companions would only remind him of what he'd lost. So he kept himself busy as he had two years previously, working out at the gym, attending concerts, visiting historical sites and going to the theatre.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

At the interval, Jim strolled out of the auditorium and made his way to the bar. He was standing alone drinking a pint when a man strode across to him. The man appeared to be roughly his own age but looked a little out of shape. Jim didn't recognise him at all.

"Jim Cooper, isn't it?" the man said heartily, putting his hand out.

He spoke with a pronounced upper-class accent. The voice was very familiar; Jim just couldn't place who it belonged to.

"Tris Kirby," the man announced.

"Tristan!" Jim said, taking the man's proffered hand. "Well, this is a surprise!"

"It's been a long time!" Tristan said. "You're still keeping yourself in good nick, I see!"

Jim allowed himself a wry smile. Fifteen years previously, as stars of the school rugby team, they'd both been in excellent shape. Jim had maintained it, more or less; Tristan quite obviously hadn't."

"So what are you doing with yourself?" Jim enquired.

"What I always said I was going to do," Tristan replied cryptically.

Jim knew well enough what that meant. Back in their school days Tristan's attraction to younger boys had been every bit as strong as his own; in their final year they had competed with each other in penetrating as many cute new boys as possible. But Tristan had never harboured any illusions of giving it up when he left. He'd gone on to physical education college with the express aim of finding a post at a prep school where he could fuck little boys to his heart's content.

"The old man got me shunted off to a nice quiet backwater where I wouldn't cause any embarrassment," Tristan added quietly, by way of explanation.

"Oh, I see," Jim said, nodding sagely.

The bell sounded to signal the resumption of the performance.

"What are you doing afterwards?" Tristan demanded. "Let's meet here," he continued without waiting for an answer. "We'll go to my flat; we can talk there."

After the performance, they took a cab to Wigmore Street. Tristan led the way to his flat, ushering Jim inside. For Jim, it was like stepping into a different world. His parents were prosperous; they'd never been short of money. Tristan's family was in a different league entirely. They were 'old money', landed gentry, Tristan's father the eleventh Earl of Northampton. They strolled through to the lounge, Jim sitting on the sofa, Tristan on the armchair opposite.

"Nice place," Jim said quietly, knowing full well that buying a flat in this part of London must have cost a fortune.

"Well, I've got accommodation at school," Tristan said airily, "so I decided to buy a flat in town. Well, as I was saying, I'm teaching rugby and cricket out in the wilds of Suffolk, pleasant little school. I'll never get rich, of course, but I'm able to indulge my vices without anyone getting wind of it. It's fortunate I'm not heir to the title. I just have to hope older brother doesn't pop his clogs before the old man does; that would cause a problem. So what are you doing?"

"Much the same," Jim said, "only athletics rather than cricket. We're down in Sussex."

"Really?" Tristan said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you went to uni to read history?"

"I did," Jim confirmed. "I got an upper second."

"But you're not using it," Tristan commented.

"Not at the moment," Jim admitted.

"May I take it that your 'interests' didn't change in the way you thought they would?" Tristan enquired.

"Pretty much," Jim said. "I did try; During my first term at Newcastle I even screwed a couple of girls, but it just wasn't working; you know how it is."

"Well, well, well!" Tristan commented. "So I suppose you're fucking cute little boys like it was going out of style."

"Well, not exactly," Jim said.

"Good, god!" Tristan exclaimed. "Don't tell me you've finished up at one of these anti-sex establishments!"

"No," Jim said. "My first school was like that. This place is fine, but everything has to be done very discreetly. As far as we're concerned, the name of the game is serial monogamy, in theory anyway."

"Only one boy at a time?" Tristan queried. "Sounds terribly boring."

"Well, it's not the old-fashioned free-for-all, but it suits me pretty well," Jim said, smiling. "I've had some amazing relationships over, what is it, seven years now. And I can have a little bit on the side; I just have to make sure it's kept very quiet."

"Oh, I see," Tristan said. "Well, chacun à son gout. And I suppose your rugby team's the best in the area?"

"Among the prep schools it usually is," Jim said quietly. "We struggle against the two grammar schools we play, but they have one hundred and twenty boys a year to our thirty."

"You always were a worker!" Tristan commented. "I do what's necessary; the teams are all right, nothing special. Everybody seems happy enough. D'you play any sevens?"

"We haven't," Jim said, "Why?"

"Oh, I run a sevens tournament at our place every year, first Saturday in March. You could come along if you want."

"Sounds interesting," Jim said. "Let me see what we've got on."

He took a fixture list from his inside pocket.

"We're supposed to be away at Whitestone Hall that day," he said, "but I could probably re-arrange that. They're only four miles away; we could even play them after school. Suffolk's a long way though; I'm not sure about the travelling. How many schools are involved?"

"Eight, usually." Tristan said, "split into two pools of four, so each team gets three matches, seven minutes each way. The top two in each pool go through to the semi-finals."

"That sounds like a very long day for the teams that get through," Jim commented, "and the driving would be a killer. I'm not sure I could cope with it."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," Tristan said, smiling. "You can stop over. One of the good things about our place is that it's huge. We've got far more accommodation than we need; two big dorms and a guest bedroom to be precise. And guess who's in charge of it all?"

"Really?" Jim said, grinning back.

"Have been for the past five years," Tristan said, giving a satisfied smirk. "My wing has the dorms where Upper Fourth sleep, when that's what they do, plus the two empty ones."

"Oh, I see," Jim said. "I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all," Tristan said dismissively. "We do it quite often, especially during the cricket season." He lowered his voice. "I take it your boys wouldn't be averse to going home nursing a few social interaction abrasions?

Jim swallowed hard. He'd never heard of 'social interaction abrasions' before, but the meaning was clear enough.

"Well, it's not the sort of thing that our lads usually get up to," he said guardedly.

"My lot usually smuggle in a couple of younger kids on a Saturday night," Tristan said blandly, "but having a whole visiting team to entertain is a lot more interesting."

"So are all your boys . . . ?" Jim queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh god, yes!" Tristan guffawed. "They're all at it, pretty much. Well, we do have a few non-combatants, but you wouldn't touch any of them with a barge pole."

"Hmmm!" Jim said thoughtfully. "It's not quite like that at our place. Oh, there's plenty going on, but the boys who have a younger friend are expected to stick with them. That's not strictly enforced, of course; I'm sure some of them do have a bit on the side now and then, but that's about it."

"You should bring them along!" Tristan said, smirking. "It'd open their eyes! And you don't have to worry about the driving. You're held in pretty high regard at your place, right?"

"Yes, I think so," Jim said.

"And the school's not exactly strapped for cash, is it?" Tristan continued.

"It doesn't seem to be," Jim conceded.

"Well then," Tristan said. "Ask them for the money to hire a coach. I'll fix it up for you. There's a little firm we always use. They've got a couple of twenty five seaters, plenty big enough for the lads to stretch out after a hard night. This chap who teaches English at a school about five miles away supplements his income by driving for them. He knows the score so there are never any embarrassing questions."

"Well, it certainly sounds like fun," Jim admitted.

"Look," Tristan said. "One of the schools that we have in this sevens tournament is a pain in the arse. They never turned up at all this year, so one of the teams from their group had to go home after only two matches. If you're prepared to take their place, I won't even invite them. Anyway, it would be good to bring in a team from further afield, and it is a bloody good day, never mind the nocturnal activities."

"Fair enough," Jim said, smiling. "So how do you, er . . . , operate?"

"I have my own rooms," Tristan said. "I do have 'a boy'; cute little thing, you'd like him. He's just finished third year; sleeps with me most nights. Not even supposed to be in my wing, by rights, but he's not complaining so nobody takes a blind bit of notice. And there's no problem with me indulging myself with one of the others when I feel like it."

"Sounds like you've got it made," Jim commented. "So what happens when you have a visiting team stop over?"

"Well, their master uses the guest bedroom," Tristan said casually. "He invariably has a boy with him, so we swap; I sleep with his, he sleeps with mine. I invariably indulge myself with some of the other visiting boys too, and their chap usually samples some more of our lads; after all, what's sauce for the goose and all that."

Jim could hardly believe what he was hearing; by the sound of things it was even more of a free-for-all than he'd experienced in his own school days.

"Don't they mind?" he enquired

"Not at all!" Tristan assured him. "Most of the visiting schools have been doing it for years; they know what to expect. Our lads look forward to it; there's always speculation about who the visiting master will pick. That'll be even stronger with you being a completely unknown quantity."

"I'll have to brief our boys very carefully," Jim said, "they're not really used to this sort of thing."

"You won't bring any non-combatants, will you?" Tristan asked. "That would be terribly boring."

"I'm sure I can manage that," Jim assured him.

"It doesn't matter if your team captain is top only," Tristan explained. "That's expected, you know, perks of the job. For the others, well, it's open season, but I'm sure your lads will give as good as they get."

Jim nodded; Darren was pretty much bottom only, but the other boys would more than make up for that. He checked his watch; it was ten past eleven.

"I must be going," he said, or I'll end up sleeping on the station."

"You can stop here if you like," Tristan offered. "There's a spare bedroom."

"No thanks," Jim said politely. "I've got things I need to do in the morning."

He made his way out, taking a cab to Victoria. He sat quietly in the back, mulling over the events of the evening. Meeting Tristan after so long had come right out of the blue. Somehow he'd allowed the man to talk him into taking a group of Hartswood boys to what would amount to an all night orgy; he could hardly believe he'd agreed to it. Of course, he could always back out, make some excuse or other, but that wasn't his style. He'd told Tristan that they'd go to the sevens tournament, and go they would.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

On the day that they returned to school, an hour before supper, Darren made his way to Jim's office, just as William had done the year before.

"Am I your boy now sir?" he enquired. "You said I would be."

"Of course," Jim confirmed. "It was what I said, and it was what I meant."

He drew him into a delicious, passionate kiss, running his hands over the boy's crotch and onto his cute little bottom, the lad's erection pressing against his thigh. After a couple of minutes he pulled away. He sat down, reaching up to undo Darren's shorts. He quickly eased them down, the boy's skimpy white briefs following immediately. He noted that Darren's penis was longer than it had been, thicker too, completely filling his foreskin.

Jim leaned forwards, licking his lips. He took it into his mouth, pushing slowly down on it until he had it all. He sucked it gently, slowly easing back the foreskin and working his tongue over the small, shiny head. Darren began to buck, thrusting eagerly into Jim's mouth. Jim slipped his hand between Darren's legs, a well-lubed finger homing in on the boy's anus. He pushed inside.

"Oooh, sir!" Darren groaned, holding onto Jim's head. "Uh! Uh! Nnnnggg!!!"

His penis jerked violently, pulsing repeatedly as it jammed itself against the roof of Jim's mouth. Finally he subsided, slowly easing himself away from Jim's lips. He hadn't ejaculated, but Jim sensed that it wouldn't be long before he did.

"You're very tight," Jim commented. "Not managed to do anything during the holidays?"

"No sir," Darren said. "I had mum and dad and my two sisters around the whole time. So are you going to fuck me sir?"

"Yes, of course," Jim said.

"Is it going to hurt, sir?" Darren asked. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yes, it probably will," Jim said gently. "But you still want it, don't you?"

"Yes sir!" Darren breathed.

They moved into position. Jim worked some more KY into the boy's anus. He was very tight, maybe even tighter than William had been the year before. Jim quickly knelt down, pulling off the boy's shoes and slipping his shorts and underpants over his feet. He stood up again, leaving Darren's briefs where he could easily reach them. He moved in close, guiding his penis onto the boy's sphincter. He pushed hard. There was no movement. He increased the pressure. Suddenly, the ring of muscle gave way and he slipped inside.

"Aaaaggghhhh!!" Darren cried, stifling a scream.

"Quiet! Jim breathed, picking up the lad's underpants and stuffing them into his mouth. "You've done the hard part. Bite on those while I give you what you came here for. Now relax and enjoy it!"

Darren sank his teeth into the soft cotton as the games master's penis advanced steadily into him. The pain was excruciating, his sphincter stretched almost to breaking point. He was covered in perspiration, eyes clamped shut, his erection completely gone. Within a few seconds he had it all, the man's thick pubic hair scrunched up against his bottom. Very slowly, the invading weapon slid back, leaving only the head inside, the pain easing as it went. Moments later it thrust right in again.

The fucking continued; long, powerful strokes, driving repeatedly over that hard, sensitive spot deep within him. Slowly, inexorably the pain ebbed away, subsumed by sensations of sheer pleasure, the pleasure he'd craved since Julian had taken his virginity almost two years previously. His erection returned, his throbbing penis begging for release. The man's fingers wrapped themselves around it, heightening his pleasure still further. He began to shake, his legs barely able to support him, his penis swelling and jiggling in the man's hand.

"Oh, yes!!" Jim whispered. "That was what you wanted, wasn't it?"

The question was unnecessary; it was exactly what the boy wanted, what he always wanted.

Jim continued his assault, pounding the lad's bottom even harder.

"Now take what I've got for you!" he announced. "Yes! Yes! Ohhhhhhh!!!"

His penis reared up, copious amounts of semen flooding into Darren's rectum. Slowly and carefully he withdrew, gently removing the briefs from the boy's mouth. The lad's anus was stretched wide, the man's ejaculate trickling out and dribbling down his legs.

"Are you all right?" Jim enquired. "It seems you were waiting for that."

"Oh yes sir," Darren gasped, still struggling for breath. "So now I'm really your boy, aren't I sir?"

"Very nearly," Jim said. "By next Sunday morning you will be."

"What happens then sir?" Darren asked.

"You have to get up really early," Jim told him, about quarter past six. As soon as you're washed and dressed come and meet me on the car park; I'll take you to my flat."

"So did you used to take William there, sir?" Darren queried, his eyes widening.

"Oh yes," Jim replied casually, "and Tim before that."

"Wow!" Darren exhaled. "I had no idea!"

"Of course, you mustn't breathe a word," Jim said gently, wrapping his arm around Darren's shoulder. "Taking you off the premises could get me in a lot of trouble."

"I won't sir, I promise," Darren assured him.

A few minutes later the boy was cleaned up, dressed and on his way to supper.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The first rugby trial confirmed what Jim already knew. The new team would be a shadow of the previous season's record breakers. They didn't have as many big lads, so pack would be much weaker. They still had Grant Shipway at tight-head prop looking more powerful than ever, but there was nobody anywhere like as strong to play at loose-head, which would make the scrum unbalanced. With Alex Pienaar switching from centre to scrum half, the backs looked competent, but no more; they certainly didn't have anyone of Pascal's quality.

The season was going to be a struggle. The boys were bound to measure their performance against what their predecessors had achieved, so even maintaining team spirit wouldn't be easy. As they left the field, Jim and assistant coach Andrew met up with John Halford.

"It's looking very thin compared with last year," Jim commented. I've not even settled on a captain yet. Any of the boys who played last year could do it, but none of them is the obvious choice."

"I'd narrow it down to two," John said, "Grant and Alex; they deserve it more than the others. I'll let you choose."

"I know about Grant," Andrew commented. "What's the story with Alex?"

"Oh, he had a miserable time when he first came here," John said. "He was in a strange country thousands of miles from home; he had kids picking on him because of the way he spoke, which I only found out about some time later. Anyway, Toby took him under his wing and the progress he's made since has been outstanding. As far as I'm concerned, that's what this school's about."

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

He strode away towards the staff room, leaving Jim and John alone.

"So I take it you knew about Toby and Alex," Jim queried.

"Oh, yes," John confirmed. "It was because of Toby that I found out about Alex getting picked on, but you know what he was like; he'd largely sorted it out by then. It was an awkward situation; he already had a younger friend. To his credit, he didn't dump Ian so he could be with Alex; he kept both of them, and Ian obviously knew what was going on. He was Toby's younger friend; Alex was Toby's protégé. They kept it all very quiet so I wasn't going to say anything when it was to everyone's benefit to let it carry on."

"You really care about the boys, don't you?" Jim queried.

"Boarding school can be hard, especially for someone in Alex's situation," John said quietly. "He needed Toby, especially after that business with Atkinson. Yes, I do care about the boys. I care about helping them to get the best out of themselves; that's what their parents pay us for. And that, at the end of the day, is what will determine whether or not this school continues to prosper."

"Well, that makes sense," Jim agreed.

"And it seems Alex has now taken on the mantle of being Ian's older friend," John continued. "I've noticed them together a couple of times already."

Jim smiled to himself; the deputy head's knowledge of what went on was quite remarkable. Fortunately, it didn't extend to some of his clandestine activities, or at least he hoped it didn't.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim sat in the car and waited. He'd been with Darren on two further occasions. Although not as painful as it had been on their first meeting, penetration had remained difficult. Darren had taken it willingly enough, but it seemed that the interval between their couplings was too long to allow the boy to become accustomed to it. Seeing the lad more often was the obvious solution, but he was unwilling to compromise his early morning assignations with Gavin. Although performing more frequently would not be a problem, he reflected, it would take the edge off things. He didn't want that; he valued the special feeling of having sex when he was really hungry for it.

He checked his watch; it was six thirty three. Darren was late, later than Tim or William had ever been. He looked around; there was no sign of him. He clenched his teeth in frustration. After a day and a half's abstinence he was as hungry for sex as he'd ever been, but the boy was nowhere in sight. Then, thirty seconds later, he appeared as if from nowhere, trotting towards the car.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," he said breathlessly, getting in next to the man. "I got up a bit late."

Jim started the car and they headed out of the gate. Five minutes later they were back at the flat.

"Wow, sir! This place is really cool!" Darren said enthusiastically.

"And this is where I'm really going to make you my boy," Jim responded, nuzzling Darren's hair.

He ushered the boy into the bedroom. Very sensuously they undressed each other until they were both down to their underpants. Jim sat on the bed, gently pulling down Darren's white briefs. He licked his lips and leaned forwards, sucking eagerly on the boy's erection. He slipped his hand between Darren's legs, his index finger homing in on the lad's pucker. The tickled it but didn't push inside; there was plenty of time for that. After less than a minute he pulled away.

He stood up. Without any prompting, Darren knelt down in front of him, skinning his jockey shorts right down his legs. He kicked them off, stroking Darren's hair as the lad sucked his penis. It wasn't something Darren was especially good at, willing though he was; he simply couldn't take as much as most of the other boys he'd been with. It was very enjoyable, but Darren's jaw soon began to ache.

"Leave it for now," Jim said quietly, gently easing himself away.

They climbed onto the bed, Jim drawing the boy into a wild, passionate kiss. Darren had been very affectionate from the very first time they'd had sex. Lying on a large comfortable bed, totally relaxed he was simply outstanding, their lips locked together, his tongue wrestling with Jim's as though trying to push down the man's throat, the aroma of hot, sexy boy driving the man crazy. He rolled onto his back, pulling Darren over on top of him. He ran his hands down the boy's back and over his beautiful bottom. He held the lad's cheeks apart, his index finger once more locating Darren's anus.

"Oh! Sir! Sir!" Darren gasped. "Oh! This is the best! I want you to fuck me, sir; fuck me hard! Come on sir, make me your boy!"

"I will, I will," Jim said, stroking Darren's hair. "But there's plenty of time; I want something else first. Kneel across my chest."

Darren moved into position. Jim pushed himself up onto his elbows, opening his mouth and pushing out his tongue.

"Come on!" he urged.

Darren crawled forwards, pushing his erect penis into Jim's waiting mouth. As Darren began to pump his hips, Jim placed his hands under the boy's bottom, holding him steady. In less than a minute, Darren's breathing began to shorten.

"Uh! Uhh!" he moaned, grabbing Jim's head. "Nnnngg!!!"

His penis jerked into action. Jim sensed the warm tangy fluid squirting onto his tongue; it was only a few drops but the boy's first ejaculation had happened even sooner than he'd expected. Very carefully, Darren eased himself out, his penis so sensitive he couldn't bear to touch it. He sank back on his haunches, still breathing heavily, his eyes glazed.

"I've cum!" he said finally. "I spunked in your mouth!"

"Mmmm!" Jim acknowledged, smiling and licking his lips. "Delicious! I'll have more of that any time!"

Darren flopped down next to Jim.

"Thanks for bringing me here," he said, his eyes sparkling again. "This is really special, so much better than doing it at school."

Moments later they resumed their kissing, but this time it was gentler, more sensuous. Darren had only produced a small amount of semen; he'd soon be ready for more action. Even so, Jim wasn't going to rush things. He wanted Darren to be all but begging for it before they moved to the final act. Very carefully, he massaged the lad's back, stroked his hair, caressed his bottom.

Darren snuggled closer, his erection prodding Jim's stomach. Jim lubricated his fingers, cocking Darren's left leg to give better access. Steadily and insistently he pushed his index finger into the boy's anus. There was no protest. Jim carefully pushed his middle finger in too. There was a momentary tightening then the boy relaxed again. Jim finger fucked the lad, working his fingers deeper and deeper until he struck the boy's knobbly prostate.

"Ohhh!" Darren gasped, his penis twitching uncontrollably.

"So what d'you want now?" Jim asked.

"I want you to fuck me," Darren responded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Come on sir!"

Jim twisted his fingers around, pushing them apart to loosen Darren's sphincter. The job completed, he carefully withdrew. He placed a pillow in the middle of the bed.

"On your tummy," he said quietly.

Darren complied without a murmur, lying face down, the pillow under his hips, his legs spread apart. Jim knelt between them, smearing KY over his penis. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, the moment when Darren would truly become his boy. All his boys had been fucked in this position at least once; it was their act of perfect submission, what made him know that they were really his.

He lowered himself into position, using his left hand to hold the boy's cheeks apart. He remembered Ryan, the council estate kid he'd met in the toilets, lying exactly where Darren was, about to have his virginity taken. Was it really over a year since he'd done that, he queried; it seemed like only yesterday. He wondered what the boy had been doing since. Getting his arse fucked on a regular basis, he felt sure of that.

He guided his penis onto Darren's sphincter. He thrust hard, the boy whimpering quietly as he penetrated him. He continued to push, his penis sinking deeper and deeper into Darren's rectum.

"Oh, sir!" Darren moaned, the man's invading weapon driving over his sex-gland.

Within seconds, the boy was lying helplessly pinned to the bed, fully impaled on the games master's penis. Jim began to fuck with long, powerful thrusts, spurred on by Darren's quiet moans and whimpers. He settled himself lower, nuzzling the boy's neck, licking his ear, taking in lungfuls of the lad's magical aroma.

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

"Yes sir! Yes sir!" Darren confirmed breathlessly.

Jim fucked him harder, deeper, faster, the intensity increasing with every thrust. The boy's moans became steadily louder, his breathing short and uneven. He shook uncontrollably; a moment later little drops of watery boy-cum squirted onto the pillow. A few more frenzied thrusts and Jim's orgasm swept over him like a tidal wave. He held Darren's upper arms, lying perfectly still. His penis reared up, depositing several volleys of semen deep inside the lad's bottom.

It was over; the task accomplished. Jim lay there, listening to the birds twittering outside the window. He took one final deep breath and carefully withdrew.

"I'm really your boy now, aren't I sir?" Darren asked, still lying face down on the bed.

"Yes," Jim assured him. "And nothing will alter that, right until the day you leave."

He turned Darren over, dropping the soiled pillow onto the floor, their lips meeting in a perfect post-fuck kiss.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After giving it some thought, Jim decided to appoint Grant Shipway as rugby captain. His reasoning was convoluted. Grant would not be part of the team for the sevens tournament, and so he could decide later who would captain the side on that occasion.

In their early matches, the team performed much as expected. An opening loss to a better than usual St. Georges' team was followed by a narrow victory at home to Alveley. They suffered a crushing defeat at home to Queen Elizabeth's, but bounced back with a comfortable win against Whitestone Hall. After four games played, they'd won two and lost two, amassing a points' difference of minus thirty eight. Given the meagre resources at their disposal, it was as good as he could have hoped for.

Jim's one disappointment was that he'd had to drop Gavin after the first match. Gavin was quick, agile and completely fearless. His ball-handling was good too, but his indiscipline made him a liability. Through sheer over-exuberance he committed a series of minor infringements, conceding a penalty on each occasion. Jim decided that he'd be in the squad for the sevens tournament where the wide open spaces would suit his style, but until he could learn to control his enthusiasm, he would not be selected for the fifteen a side team.

Things continued much in the same way for the remainder of the term; with half the season completed their record stood at nine matches played, with five wins and four losses, the points' difference having improved a little to minus twenty six. It was a far cry from the success they'd enjoyed the previous season, but there was much to be proud of. Grant had risen admirably to the challenge of captaincy, the team spirit had been excellent and the work rate outstanding. In Gavin's absence, the team's organisation and discipline had been first rate and had played a major part in them winning two matches they might otherwise have lost.

Jim had left the sevens tournament completely to one side; he hadn't even told the boys about it. He would deal with that directly after the Christmas holiday, he decided. Then he would have to select a squad to take part. The nocturnal activities that were to take place after the tournament would make that a challenge in itself.

Part Nine

The rugby squad assembled in the main pavilion changing room for the first training session of the new term.

"Right lads," Jim announced, "There's been a change to the fixture list. On the first Saturday in March, instead of playing away at Whitestone Hall, we'll be going to a sevens tournament. Now we've never played sevens before. Although it's still rugby, it's a very different game. A team consists of three forwards, that's a hooker and two props, and four backs; a scrum half and three others. But it's played on a full-size pitch, so everybody has to do a lot of . . . ?"

He looked around. There were several hands raised.

"Well, Evan?" he asked.

"Running, sir," Evan responded.

"Exactly," Jim said. "So the props won't be our usual props; sorry Grant and Haydon, but you won't be needed on this occasion. Of course, all that running is very tiring, so the games are very short; seven minutes each way. We'll have matches against three other schools in a sort of mini-league, with the top two teams in each mini-league going into the semi-finals. We don't have to play the same team in every match, so we'll be taking a squad of ten. As far as team selection's concerned, all I can say at this stage is that Lee at hooker and Alex at scrum half are pretty certain of their places; once we start doing some sevens training, which we will in a few weeks time, the rest will be up to you. And there could be places for one or two boys who aren't in the regular fifteen a side team."

He paused; the boys were giving him their full attention.

"One final thing," he said. "The tournament's at Fraylsham Park School in Suffolk. It will be a long day, so we've been invited to stop over. Okay, let's get to work!"

As they headed onto the field, there was a very positive buzz among the boys. They had certainly taken to the idea; it seemed that spending a night at another school was a very exciting prospect for them.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

There was a knock on the office door. Jim opened it to find Gavin standing there, just as arranged. He locked the changing room, and ushered the boy into the office. There were never too many preliminaries on these occasions. Gavin came to get fucked; it was as simple as that. Over the previous term he'd turned into a promiscuous little slut. Despite warnings to the contrary, he made up for the fact that he no longer had an older friend by regularly frequenting the science lab toilets, making himself available to any of the boys in Upper Fourth who wanted a quick fuck.

Jim sat down, reaching out to open the boy's shorts. They slid off his skinny hips, falling down around his ankles. As usual Gavin was wearing gym shorts. Jim pulled up the left leg, exposing the boy's erect penis. He leaned forward, sucking it eagerly. He slipped a hand between Gavin's legs, his index finger quickly locating the lad's anus. He pushed inside, quickly becoming aware that the boy was already quite well lubricated; his shorts were slightly damp too. It must have happened in the dorm, he concluded; not only was Gavin having sex with several older boys, he was being fucked by one of his contemporaries. He released Gavin's penis and sat up.

"Well, well, well!" he commented. "It seems like someone's been there before me."

"Yes, sir," Gavin admitted, giving him a cheeky smile.

"And who might that be?" Jim enquired.

"Francis, sir," Gavin told him. "He does it quite often; he does Ian sometime too. He says that when I can cum, I can do it to him."

Jim smiled. Though of only average height and not in the least bit athletic, Francis Copeland was prodigiously developed for a boy just a few months past his twelfth birthday, with a large, uncut penis and a more than respectable crop of pubic hair. The previous year he'd been the younger friend of Tom Goddard, one of the forwards in the record-breaking rugby team, so obviously had plenty of experience.

"I bet you liked having his cock up your bum, didn't you?" Jim queried.

"Yes sir," Gavin conceded. "It's not as good as yours though, sir; you're the best!"

"Come on then!" Jim ordered, standing up and dropping the pillow onto his desk.

Gavin quickly got into position. Jim moved in behind. There would be no further lubrication; there was no need. He eased Gavin's shorts down a little, manoeuvring his penis up the leg, settling it on the boy's anus. With a single thrust he rammed it right in.

"Ooooh, sir!!" Gavin groaned, shocked by the suddenness of the penetration.

"You're a naughty boy, Gavin!" Jim growled. "Can't get enough of it, can you?"

"Oh no sir!" Gavin whimpered.

The boy stood there, bent over the desk, his chest resting on the pillow, the games master's penis fucking him remorselessly. Two minutes passed, the intensity building, his hard spike rubbing as always against his hard nylon shorts. He could hardly breathe, the tingling feeling reaching unprecedented levels. He shuddered violently. A moment later his penis jerked into action, little jets of fluid spurting into his shorts. He collapsed limply over the desk, gasping for breath, Jim's warm, creamy semen flooding into his rectum. It had been the best fuck ever.

Jim slowly withdrew. Gavin farted noisily, a large stain appearing in his shorts.

"I've done it sir," Gavin gasped. "I've cum!"

"Well, you'll have to make sure Francis keeps his side of the bargain, won't you?" Jim said with a chuckle.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

They began sevens training at the end of January, every Wednesday afternoon. Deciding which forwards to take was easy. The regular back row of Chris Barnett, Mark Burgess and Clifford Rowe were all good athletes and took to their new role as makeshift props with ease.

The backs were more of a problem. With Alex at scrum half, there were seven boys for the remaining five places; the six regulars plus Gavin. For sevens, Gavin was an obvious choice; he was certainly one of the quickest, and in the wide open spaces he had no problem with staying onside. Darren, who was also the goal-kicker, and right wing Evan Williamson were obvious picks too. There were two places left.

As far as Jim knew, Alan Protheroe was, to use Tristan's expression, a non-combatant. That ruled him out; it was fortunate that he was not an obvious selection. Full back Paul Whitehead tired far too easily. That left Daniel Palmer and Kingsley Brown. Jim had no worries about Daniel; he was Chris's younger friend and as tough as old boots. He did have misgivings about taking Kingsley. Kingsley was Mark's younger friend, so he wasn't a complete innocent, but he was still only eleven, very cute and a really sweet kid. He'd be a prime target for the Fraylsham Park boys; it was inevitable. On the other hand, he was very brave, a wonderful scamperer and his enthusiasm was infectious. It would be difficult to leave him out.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim stepped into the deputy head's office.

"You get on pretty well with Gavin McIntyre, don't you?" John Halford asked.

"Yeah; I've never had a problem with him," Jim said casually.

"I'm afraid he's got himself in serious trouble," John said.

Jim wondered what sort of trouble. Had he finally been caught in flagrente delecto in the science lab toilets? That seemed unlikely; wild as he was, Gavin had at least enough sense to restrict his visits to times when John Halford was safely off the premises. Chris Barnett, who was in charge of 'unofficial activities', had warned him not to be there, but as several of his friends took advantage of Gavin's generosity, in practice he turned a blind eye.

"He caused an explosion in the science lab," John explained.

"Hmmm! That is serious," Jim commented.

"Fortunately, there were no injuries," John continued, "so it could have been much worse. Paul Chandler's very upset about it; blames himself for letting it happen. I told him not to worry about it. He was helping some other boys at the time. It can be pretty tough with the bottom groups; some of the boys need that sort of help or they never get anything done. Meanwhile Gavin's mixed two chemicals in a flask and put it on the Bunsen burner 'just to see what would happen'."

"So where do things stand now?" Jim asked.

"Well, as you might guess, there have been several calls for him to be sent down," John said with an air of resignation. "I keep hearing the words 'menace' and 'unteachable'. But I'm not going to do that. Gavin's not naughty on purpose; he's not trying to make trouble. If he was I'd have got rid of him ages ago. He just does things without thinking. In my view if we can't manage a lad like him, it's a pretty poor show. He was in tears afterwards; apologised to me, apologised to Mr. Chandler; I still had to punish him though. I've excluded him from science classes until half term and I gave him a thrashing. I really didn't want to, but I didn't have much choice; the other boys wouldn't have understood if I hadn't. He's a tough little bugger; never even flinched."

"That sounds like Gavin," Jim commented.

"I'd like you to take him under your wing," John said. "Spend some time with him, talk to him, try to get him to understand that he needs to think first and act second."

"It's not that I don't want to," Jim responded, "but it could be a bit awkward."

"I realise you have another attachment at the moment," John said quietly. "In normal circumstances, I wouldn't even suggest that you should take on a second one, but these aren't normal circumstances. Darren's a good kid. Explain it to him; he'll understand."

"As long as you're happy for me to do that," Jim said.

"I think it's the best way," John said. "Gavin needs a guiding hand, someone he looks up to. Anyway, how are preparations going for this sevens tournament?"

"Pretty well," Jim said, grinning. "I've pretty much got the squad sorted out. Of course, we've never played sevens before, so we're stepping into the unknown. I've no idea what the standard will be like."

"I'm sure the lads will give a good account of themselves," John said, smiling.

Jim made no comment. He certainly hoped the boys would give a good account of themselves, off the field as well as on it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim was not looking forward to briefing the boys about the nocturnal activities that would follow the sevens tournament. It wasn't something he could announce in front of the whole team; he'd have to speak to them all individually. Even then, it was hard to know how much he should tell them. After their next training session, he asked Chris to stay behind.

"I just want a quick word with you about the sevens tournament," he said quietly. "And let me emphasise that what I'm going to tell you is not to be repeated; I don't even want you discussing it with the other boys in the team. D'you understand?"

"Yes sir," Chris acknowledged.

"As you know, we're going to be stopping over," Jim said. "However, we won't have a dorm to ourselves. From what I understand from Mr. Kirby, our team will share a couple of dorms with boys from their team. During the night, things do go on, a sort of extension of the rivalry, you know? Of course, it's up to us to give as good as we get. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with that. I didn't think it was fair for you to find out when you got there."

"So you mean they do stuff with us and we can do stuff with them?" Chris asked.

"Pretty much," Jim said.

Chris grimaced. "Well, it's okay, I guess, but the thing is I've never actually . . . , you know."

"No, I realise that," Jim said. "You're the only one that hasn't at one stage or another. But you needn't worry; team captains aren't expected to; it's the perks of the job. As Grant won't be with us, I'm proposing to make you captain. Fair enough?"

"Yes sir," Chris responded. "But what about Mark and Cliff?"

"Both Mark and Clifford had older friends a year or two back," Jim said calmly. "Anyway, they're big lads; they can look after themselves!"

"Okay sir," Chris said. "Will you be speaking to all the boys?"

"Yes," I'll see everyone individually." Jim confirmed. "And remember, no discussing it, okay?"

"Yes sir," Chris said.

Jim sent him on his way. It had gone better than he'd thought.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim ushered Darren into his bedroom. Once they were both naked, they snuggled up on the bed.

"I need to talk to you," Jim said quietly, rubbing his nose against Darren's, "about a couple of things, actually."

Darren smiled.

"Mr. Halford's asked me to spend some time with Gavin," Jim said. "I guess you know how much trouble he's been in."

"Gavin's mad!" Darren responded. "He just doesn't think; he could have killed somebody. But he's all right, really."

That's what I think too," Jim said. "So I've told Mr. Halford I would, but that doesn't mean I'll be spending any less time with you. I would have been working with him quite a bit during the summer in any case; he's good at athletics, and I'd more or less decided that he was going to be my boy next year, but I don't want you thinking that you're getting pushed out. That is not going to happen."

"That's okay, sir," Darren said beaming. "I understand. Gavin needs someone like you to stop him doing something really stupid."

"You're a good boy," Jim whispered. "And thanks; I appreciate it."

"So what's the other thing, sir?" Darren asked.

"The sevens tournament," Jim told him.

He briefly outlined the situation much as he had with Chris, Darren not appearing at all bothered by what was being suggested.

"But you're in a different position from everyone else," Jim continued. "I'll be sleeping in the guest bedroom close to the dormitories that the teams will use. Their rugby master, Mr. Kirby, has an apartment in the same area. He has a boy just like I do. It seems that it's the tradition on these occasions for Mr. Kirby to sleep with the visiting master's boy, while the visiting master sleeps with his."

Darren's face broke out into a broad grin.

"Wow, sir!" he responded, stifling a giggle. "That's wild! As long as you don't mind me sleeping with him sir."

"No, of course not," Jim said, nuzzling the boy's ear. "I just wanted to make sure you were happy with it. I also understand that Mr. Kirby usually indulges himself with some of the other visiting boys. If he does, he'll probably take you to the dorm before taking another boy back to his apartment, so you may end up having sex with some of their lads too."

"It's going to be great!" Darren enthused. "We never get to do stuff like that at Hartswood, do we sir?"

"No," Jim agreed. "Hartswood's a wonderful school; I wouldn't change it in any way, but for one night it will be good to go somewhere that's allows a little more freedom than our place does."

"So are you going to be doing that too, sir?" Darren enquired. "You know, going with some more of their boys?"

"Probably," Jim said. "After all, it's up to us to give as good as we get."

"Wow! I hadn't thought of it like that sir," Darren admitted. "I know Chris will, and Mark; they'll love it!"

"Now it's very important that you don't mention this to anybody," Jim said firmly. "I don't even want you discussing it with the other boys in the team. Understood!"

"Yes sir," Darren confirmed. "I won't breathe a word. "I don't think Mr. Halford would approve, would he, sir?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Jim said gently.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Over the following week, Jim continued speaking to the boys in the sevens' squad. There were a few questions, but after everything was explained, they were all for it. Kingsley was positively enthusiastic. Jim wondered if the boy realised that he'd be fucked by several of the Fraylsham Park boys and probably by their games master as well, but felt he couldn't spell it out to him.

He spoke to Alex Pienaar in his office after Upper Fourth gym class. Unlike any of the others, the boy became very obviously aroused, his erection making a prominent bulge in his shorts; he was positively salivating at the prospect. Jim was somewhat taken aback; he'd always thought Alex to be rather quiet.

"You seem to be getting quite excited," Jim commented.

"Yes sir," Alex admitted.

"D'you want some help with that?" Jim asked.

"Yes please sir," Alex responded.

Jim sat down and opened Alex's grey school shorts, pushing them down over his hips. They fell to the floor. He ran his hand over the front of the boy's briefs, gently fondling the lad's throbbing erection. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, and pulled them down. Alex's penis was a real beauty, uncut, around four and half inches long and a little under an inch in diameter, the foreskin completely covering the head, a pair of well-formed balls hanging loosely beneath. Above it, close inspection revealed a few tiny blond hairs beginning to make an appearance. He was perfection.

Jim leaned forwards, closing his lips around the boy's hard spike, pushing slowly down until it touched the back of his throat. He sucked it slowly, working his tongue all over it, his hand sliding between Alex's legs.

"Are you going to fuck me sir?" Alex asked.

Jim pulled away and looked up.

"Is that what you want?" he asked.

"Yes sir," Alex said.

"That is a surprise," Jim said. "After your unfortunate experience with Mr. Atkinson I wouldn't have thought you'd want that."

"But Mr. Atkinson wasn't very nice, sir," Alex explained. "You're different."

"I thought you'd moved on to being Ian's older friend now Toby's left," Jim queried.

"I have sir," Alex confirmed, but Peter Cranham and I sleep together most nights. He loves bumming me. It's good, sir, but he's not much bigger than I am. I'd love to have a real big one up me."

"I guess you won't have had that since the time with Mr. Atkinson," Jim commented.

"I did once sir," Alex told him. "Me and Toby had a foursome with Robert and Darren. Toby and Robert swapped over, so I got Robert's big one up my bum. It was great!"

"I see," Jim said, becoming more aroused by the second.

He was beginning to realise that there was far more to the quiet South African boy than he'd ever dreamed of. He reached into his bag and retrieved the KY. The squeezed some onto his fingers. He resumed sucking Alex's penis, slipping his hand between the boy's legs again and pushing his index finger deep into Alex's anus. There was not a murmur of protest. He inserted his middle finger as well, pushing in as far as he could. He touched Alex's prostate, the boy's penis twitching delightfully in his mouth. He twisted his fingers around, carefully loosening the lad's sphincter. After a couple of minutes he allowed both fingers to slide out. He stood up.

"D'you want to find out what I've got for you?" he asked.

Alex quickly undid Jim's shorts and extracted his penis.

"That's a beauty, sir!" he breathed, running his fingers all over it.

He knelt on the floor and took it into his mouth. He sucked right down on it, burying his nose in Jim's pubic hair. After a minute or so he pulled away, smiling and licking his lips.

"Good boy," Jim cooed. "That was wonderful."

He placed the pillow on his desk. Alex stood up and moved into position without a word if instruction. Jim smeared KY over his penis, surveying his latest and most unexpected prize. He could hardly believe his good fortune. The boy was a total delight, his legs and bottom in perfect proportion. His anus was clearly visible; it was evident that he was being penetrated, though equally evident that the person responsible was not especially large, Peter Cranham, indeed, Richard Burman's boy. So Richard was fucking Peter and Alex was fucking Ian, but when Alex and Peter they got together they swapped roles. It seemed a nicely symmetrical arrangement.

He moved in close, guiding his penis onto the lad's sphincter. He thrust hard and penetrated him.

"Ooooh, sir!!" Alex gasped, his anus struggling to accommodate the unusually large intrusion.

"Is that what you want?" Jim asked gently.

"Oh yes sir!" Alex confirmed.

Jim waited until the lad began to relax. Very slowly he edged forwards, sinking his penis deeper and deeper into Alex's bottom. He thrust over the boy's prostate.

"Ohhhhh!" Alex moaned, a bolt of electricity shooting through his prong.

Moments later, the boy was fully impaled, the man's pubic hair pressed tight against his bottom. Jim inhaled sharply; Alex was gloriously tight, just as Darren had been on his return after the summer holiday.

Without even thinking about it, Jim began to fuck, gradually building it up until he was giving the boy everything he had. Alex moaned and whimpered, the heady mixture of pain and pleasure the most intense he'd ever experienced. The games master's fingers wrapped themselves around his throbbing penis, sending him into sensory overload. He bucked and squirmed, his anus clamping tight around the man's invading weapon. A moment later his penis jerked violently, his semen spurting through the man's fingers and onto the front of the desk. Within seconds the games master climaxed too, warm, creamy semen filling his rectum. It had been even better than he'd expected; nobody had ever fucked him like that!

Very carefully Jim withdrew, the boy's anus bearing all the marks of what had just occurred.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked quietly.

"Yes sir!" Alex responded, still struggling for breath. "It was fantastic!"

"It was for me too," Jim said warmly. "I'm afraid I won't be able to see you very often, but if you'd like to come here on Monday morning before breakfast, that would be superb."

"Yes sir," Alex agreed.

"You'll need to be here by ten past seven," Jim told him, "so you'll have to get up the moment the bell goes."

"I will sir," Alex said, grinning.

A few minutes later, Alex was dressed and on his way. Jim slumped into his chair, marvelling at his latest piece of good fortune. He smiled to himself; having both Darren and Gavin needing his attention was wonderful; adding Alex to the list was the icing on the cake.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The half term break came and went; two weeks later the day of the tournament arrived. After an early breakfast Jim and the squad made their way out onto the car park to find the coach already waiting for them. Jim stood with the driver as the boys quickly stowed their bags and hurried on board, making their way right to the back.

"Hi," the driver said, extending a hand as the last boy disappeared inside. "I'm Tony Milner; I teach English at a school about five miles from Fraylsham Park. I guess Tristan will have told you."

"Yes," Jim confirmed.

"You've not been there before, have you?" Tony asked.

"No," Jim said. "Tristan and I were at school together. One of their regular teams let them down so he invited us."

"Your boys know what to expect?" Tony enquired.

"Pretty much," Jim said, unwilling to give too much away.

"Things can get pretty wild, from what I understand," Tony commented.

"So do you, you know . . . indulge?" Jim asked, wishing to turn the conversation around.

"In a quiet way," Tony said blandly. "Nothing like what goes on there."

They made their way onto the coach and a minute later they were out of the gate and on their way. Jim found it a pleasant change not to be driving, especially over such a distance, along roads with which he was not familiar.

They arrived at twenty past ten. As they made their way along the drive Jim surveyed the sight which presented iteslf. The buildings large and imposing and the grounds very extensive. By comparison, Hartswood Priory looked quite ordinary. As the coach came to a halt, Tristan hurried across to greet them.

"Jim!" he said enthusiastically as his old friend got off the coach. "Great to see you! Good journey?"

"Not bad at all, thanks," Jim said.

"Excellent!" Tristan said. "I knew Tony would look after you."

He turned to a boy of around thirteen, an athletically built lad with collar-length fair hair, who was standing to his left and slightly behind him.

"This is Mr. Cooper of Hartswood Priory School down in Sussex," he said.

The boy stepped forward, extending a hand in Jim's direction.

"Pelham Lewis-Marshall," the boy said in an impossibly upper-class accent, a condescending smile on his face. "I'm rugby captain. Pleased to meet you. I'll show you to the changing rooms. We're looking forward to having you and your team stay with us tonight."

Jim accepted the handshake, but there was something about the boy's manner to which he took an instant dislike. As the boys got changed he studied the draw. Fraylsham Park were in Pool One, along with defending champions Aldenham College Junior School. Hartswood Priory were in Pool Two; their first match, against Lakeston Hall, was due to begin at 11.45.

The three matches that preceded theirs were uneventful. Aldenham looked impressive, crushing Fairlington by twenty nine points to seven; the other teams seemed to be much of a muchness. It was time to go. Jim began with what he considered to be his strongest line up; Chris, Lee and Mark up front with a back line of Alex, Darren, Evan and Gavin. They made a couple of mistakes and fluffed one golden opportunity. Nonetheless they scored three tries and won by nineteen points to seven; one down, two to go.

Their second match was the crucial one, both they and their opponents Eastwood Grange having won their opening games. Jim toyed with the idea of sending out the same line-up again, but decided to stick to his original plan, with Clifford replacing Mark up front and Kingsley coming in for Gavin at left wing. It was a competitive, exciting game; close all the way through, but Hartswood were always doing just enough, always looking the more likely to score. In the end they prevailed by thirteen points to nine, and with Lakeston having also won their second match, their place in the semi-finals was assured.

For their final pool match Mark came back in for Chris, with Daniel replacing Evan on the right wing. Though not their strongest line-up, they were too good for Wellstead, beating them by twenty points to six. Half an hour later, Lakeston beat Eastwood to go through as runners-up. The semi-final line-up was now complete; Aldenham would play Lakeston in the first match, Hartswood would play Fraylsham Park in the second.

There was a break of almost an hour, a light lunch being served before the semi-finals began. Jim took the opportunity to wander round, finding out more about the place. It was almost a different world. The boys at Hartswood came, in the main, from the professional classes, the sons of lawyers, doctors, senior civil servants and so on. Others, like Mark, had parents who were successful in commerce or industry. By contrast, most of the boys at Fraylsham Park were from well-established families, just like Tristan was, titled nobility, landed gentry and their ilk. Snobbery and privilege were everywhere; the place positively reeked of it. During his own school days, boys like Tristan had been a small, though influential minority; at Fraylsham Park their presence and influence pervaded everything.

In the first semi-final, Aldenham disposed of Lakeston with consummate ease, winning by twenty five points to eight; they were looking unstoppable. At a little after quarter past three, the Hartswood boys trotted onto the pitch to take on their hosts. They had reverted to their strongest team, the same line-up that had played in the opening match. It was, Jim reflected, the first time that he and Tristan had faced each other in any sort of contest.

Fraylsham Park certainly had the edge on them for size and mounted some good attacks, but they defended poorly and their teamwork was sadly lacking, Lewis-Marshall captaining the side by ordering his team-mates around rather than exhorting and encouraging them. They didn't have much support either. If Hartswood had hosted an event like this, almost every boy in the school would have been out there shouting them on; at Fraylsham Park they didn't seem to care. The Hartswood team was a total contrast, their commitment, endeavour and excellent teamwork bringing them through by twenty three points to fourteen. Afterwards, they received rather perfunctory congratulations from Tristan and the Fraylsham Park boys; it was almost as if they didn't care that they'd lost.

At four o'clock, Aldenham and Hartswood took to the field for the final, to be played over ten minutes each way. Hartswood were clearly the underdogs and so it proved. They played as well as they could and kept going right to the final whistle, but the final scoreline of thirty two points to seventeen hardly did justice to Aldenham's dominance. Jim was not unduly disappointed. It was their first sevens tournament. They'd made the final and lost to a much better team. There was little anyone could have done about that.

After the match, Chris led the team in congratulating their opponents properly, a discipline that Jim drilled into all his teams. Jim, meanwhile, sought out their rugby master, keen to explore the possibility of arranging regular annual fixtures. The presentations at an end, the tournament was over. It was time for the evening activities to begin.

Part Ten

'Social Interaction Abrasions'

The boys headed back to the changing room to get showered and dressed. The level of excitement at the prospect of the activities that would follow later that evening was all too obvious.

"As soon as you're ready, just sit on the bench," Jim instructed.

Eventually, everyone was seated. Jim looked round; they fell silent.

"I just wanted to say well done for today. It's our first sevens tournament and every one of you performed superbly. You reached the final where you came up against a very good team; I could not have asked for more. Right, let's go and get the sleeping arrangements sorted out, then there'll be time to relax before supper at six."

They made their way out. Tristan was waiting for them.

"Right, let's take you across to my little empire," he said smiling.

They walked the short distance to the school buildings and went inside. Tristan took them to a common room where the Fraylsham Park boys were. Lewis-Marshall came across to them.

"Take our guests up to the dormitories, there's a good chap," Tristan said, "and show them where the showers and toilets are."

Lewis-Marshall led the way upstairs and along a corridor. He opened a door.

"You can all leave your bags in this one for now," he said in a very superior tone. "We can sort out who's where later."

Jim looked around. Although the buildings themselves were imposing, the dormitory was austere and unwelcoming, nothing like the ones at Hartswood; it reminded him of his own prep school days. Lewis-Marshall showed them the showers and toilets in equally perfunctory fashion before showing Jim to the guest bedroom. Jim was becoming increasingly irritated. The boy was not making the slightest attempt to be friendly; in fact he was off-hand to the point of being rude.

They returned to the common room where Tristan was flitting about.

"You can sit over there," Lewis-Marshall said with a wave of the arm, indicating an area in the far corner before going back to join his friends.

A moment later, he went over to the Hartswood boys, wrote down everyone's name then went back again. Jim stood and observed. All the Fraylsham Park boys addressed each other by surname, just as they had when he was at school; it seemed terribly old-fashioned. Tristan came to join him.

"Your captain is not the most engaging young man I've ever met," Jim commented.

"I think the word you're looking for is obnoxious," Tristan responded.

"So why did you make him captain?" Jim enquired. "He didn't even seem to do that particularly well."

"You are talking about the Honorable Pelham George Frederick Lewis-Marshall, heir to the Marquis of Bedford," Tristan told him. "That does count for rather a lot round here."

"Hmmm, I guess it would," Jim said, beginning to feel rather uneasy.

A short while later, they headed off for supper. Lewis-Marshall was sitting with the same group of boys that he'd been with in the common room. One of them caught Jim's attention, tall and slim, with his hair so short it was hard to see it.

"Who is that?" Jim enquired.

"Andreas Fenner-Kreisburg," Tristan said, "although we don't usually bother with the Kreisburg bit. His father is senior partner at Fenner Kresiburg the London stockbrokers, founded back in the seventeen nineties I believe. The Kreisburgs were bankers from Hanover; one of the family came here with George I back in 1714. Originally there were the two families involved in the business, the Fenners and the Kreisburgs, until Andreas' grandfather hit on the bright idea of joining them together in holy matrimony. The results you see before you, even more obnoxious than Lewis-Marshall, if that's possible. They're filthy rich, of course; make our family look like paupers."

"So what makes him particularly obnoxious?" Jim enquired.

"Oh, he has political views that a liberal like you would find quite unacceptable," Tristan explained. "Supports the white regimes in Rhodesia and South Africa, believes the assassination of Martin Luther-King was justified, has ambitions to take over the National Front, and 'succeed where Oswald Mosley failed'."

"Sounds charming," Jim commented. "I guess that explains the skinhead haircut."

"Oh, probably," Tristan conceded.

"You'll need to make sure that he's not in the same dorm as Alex Pienaar," Jim said. "Alex's family had to leave South Africa for speaking out against the apartheid regime."

"Oh, Fenner would have field day with that," Tristan said, "regard him as a traitor to the cause of white supremacy. Leave it with me; I'll deal with it." He leaned forwards."Those four are our 'untouchables'," he said quietly. "They can do more or less what they like, within limits of course."

"So who are the other two?" Jim enquired,

"The smaller one with the freckles and messy hair is Jeffrey Thornton, son of Sir Peter Thornton; they farm about two and half thousand acres up near Saffron Walden. Dull as ditchwater; only survives in that company because he does whatever Lewis-Marshall tells him to do. The other one's Greville Stark; his mother's the younger daughter of Viscount Amersham. They've got a place out near Colchester. Not a bad lad, fairly bright and a talented artist. He might make something of himself; I don't hold out much hope for the other three."

"Won't Fenner be expected to go into the business?" Jim enquired.

"Oh yes," Tristan said, "but he won't actually have to do anything; they have people to do all that for them, the sort of people that send their sons to your place. The extent of the family's involvement is making sure that nobody's got their fingers in the till." He sat back and smiled. "I hope you don't think too badly of us," he said quietly. "Most of the boys here are very pleasant. We just have a few whose status allows them to rather dominate things; that's just the way it is."

Supper over, they returned to the common room. Tristan went to speak to the 'untouchables'. Words were exchanged. Lewis-Marshall didn't look at all happy. More words were said. Eventually Tristan strolled back across to Jim. Lewis-Marshall, list in hand, went over to the Hartswood boys, had a word with Lee then went back again.

"Well that's sorted out," Tristan said quietly, beaming at Jim. "They weren't too happy at having to alter their arrangements, even less happy that I wouldn't give them a reason for it, but they bowed to the inevitable." He paused. "Ridiculous as it may sound," he continued, "my word does carry a lot of weight here simply because of who I am, or to be more exact, who my father is. So anyway, Pienaar is to be swapped with, er . . , Sheldon is it?"

Jim nodded. "So you let them decide on the sleeping arrangements?" he queried.

"Perks of the job, dear boy," Tristan said, shrugging.

Jim's worst fears had been confirmed. He'd managed to extricate Alex, but Kingsley would still be there. It felt like he was throwing the boy to the wolves, but without causing a scene there was nothing he could do.

The evening meandered on. Not one of the Fraylsham Park boys made any attempt to chat to the Hartswood team, not even those who weren't part of Lewis-Marshall's little clique. The two schools were so different, Jim reflected. The parents of the boys at Hartswood were, without exception, people who had worked hard and done well for themselves. Overwhelmingly, they expected their boys to do the same. Hartswood fostered a culture of achievement and excellence to meet those expectations. There was none of that at Fraylsham Park. In the main, the parents of these boys hadn't had to work for their wealth and privileged lifestyle; they'd been born into it. The parents didn't have to work and the boys weren't expected to either.

Tristan checked his watch. "Right gentlemen!" he announced. "It's nine o'clock. Rugby squads remain here; the rest of you upstairs to bed. I'll be there shortly, so I don't want to find any fooling around going on."

Boys trooped out, leaving the two rugby teams behind. Jim surveyed the remaining Fraylsham Park contingent. There were a few very cute ones, most especially a slim, long-legged boy with smooth blond hair. He'd certainly be aiming to get to know that young man before the night was out.

"I see you've got your eyes on Barr," Tristan whispered. "Very sweet; he's only been here since Christmas. Lewis-Marshall has pretty much kept him to himself up to now, but tonight, well, he couldn't have the cake and halfpenny, now could he?

Jim grinned but didn't say anything.

"The one next to him is Stallard," Tristan continued, referring to a smallish boy with brown hair down over his ears. "School slut, been taking it since he was nine. I hate to think of the number of boys he's been with."

"What about the long haired boy?" Jim enquired.

"McKenzie," Tristan told him. "Nice lad, big cock; well bigger than you'd think."

"So which one's your boy?" Jim asked.

"Fielding, the other blond one," Tristan told him.

Jim quickly identified him. He was certainly cute but looked rather soft.

"I don't remember him from the tournament," he commented.

"You wouldn't," Tristan said. "He does his playing elsewhere."

"Proctor is my boy," Jim said, "the tall blond one; very nice. You'll also find McIntyre and Pienaar very receptive," he continued, nodding towards Gavin and Alex. "I only found out about Pienaar a few weeks ago when I briefed the lads about coming here. That was a real surprise; I'd always thought he was rather quiet."

"Thanks for the advice," Tristan whispered. "I may get round to them later, but Brown's the one I've got my eyes on; very cute!"

Jim sighed; poor Kingsley was going to have a hard night.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Lewis-Marshall led the way to the dorm where the Hartswood team had left their bags.

"Brown, McIntyre, Palmer and Sheldon will be in here," he declared, "the rest of you in the one next door."

The remaining boys picked up their bags. Chris led the way to the adjacent dormitory. The other Fraylsham Park boys were already there, starting to get ready for bed. As they trooped out to brush their teeth, Chris called the Hartswood lads together.

"They've stitched us up," he said quietly. "Their four biggest lads are next door with our four smallest; it's obvious what's going to be going on. Well we can play that game. As soon as their guy turns the lights out and disappears, we move on them, okay? I've brought a torch, give us enough light to see what we're doing. If we want to even up the score we've got to do this right. I'll take their biggest lad, Armitage; Mark, I want you to go with the long haired kid, McKenzie I think his name is. Cliff, you go with Sherwood, the non-descript looking one; Evan, you take Stallard, the small one and Alex you go with Barr, the skinny blond kid. And don't take no for an answer. That's their dorm; this one's ours, we're in charge in here. We've got to make sure they know that. What happens afterwards happens."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The boys were all lying in their beds when Mr. Kirby turned out the lights. Blake Armitage settled down in bed. There was no rush. The Hartswood boys were completely new to this; they wouldn't be going anywhere. He'd wait until the man was safely ensconced in his apartment then move in on Pienaar, the cute South African boy. It was a serious miscalculation; after barely twenty seconds a torch was turned on; the Hartswood lads were on the move. Before he had time to react, he had someone in bed with him.

"I thought I'd come a get to know you a bit better," a voice growled.

It was Barnett, there was nobody else with a voice deep enough. That was the last thing he'd expected. He'd thought that the Hartswood captain would make straight for Barr or possibly Stallard; that was what Lewis-Marshall would have done. The boy was tugging at his underpants, pulling them down around his thighs.

"Nice cock!" Barnett commented, before scooting down and taking it into his mouth.

That was an even bigger surprise; Lewis-Marshall definitely wouldn't have done that! It felt wonderful. He stroked Barnett's hair, urging him to continue. A hand was pushed between his legs; moments later a greasy finger was inserted into his anus. He didn't know what Barnett was using; it wasn't Vaseline, something better, more slippery. A second finger pushed in behind it. It was clear what was going to happen; Barnett was going to fuck him. He didn't get fucked very often. Thornton fucked him occasionally when they were in their regular dorm, more to remind him of the pecking order than anything else; Thornton was part of Lewis-Marshall's inner circle; he wasn't.

Since beginning Upper Fourth he'd usually been a top. He didn't have a regular boy, but he could usually find a younger lad when he wanted one. Just a few days previously he'd met third year boy Langton-Smith by the swimming pool, waiting for a lesson. He'd taken him into one of the adjacent toilet stalls, pulled down the boy's skimpy little swimming trunks and fucked him senseless. Langton-Smith had co-operated willingly enough, bending over the toilet bowl without even being asked, not that it had made much difference; he'd have fucked the kid anyway.

And when all else failed, there was always Fairhurst, another of his dorm mates. Fairhurst suffered for being small for his age; at four feet ten and very slim, with a cute little boy's penis, he looked more like eleven rather than just turned thirteen. So whenever one of the bigger boys in the dorm needed a fuck, they would make their way to Fairhurst's bed. Whether he welcomed these nocturnal visits wasn't clear; he simply accepted them as an occupational necessity. Then again, he didn't have much choice.

Armitage reached out, wrapping his fingers around the Hartswood captain's penis. It was a little longer than Thornton's and much thicker. Resistance was futile; he knew that. Barnett was too big and far too strong. They'd planned this; he realised. Barnett was with him because the Hartswood captain was the only one big enough to be certain of fucking him. From where he was he couldn't see much, but he suspected that all the Hartswood boys had done the same thing.

His underpants were pulled right off. The pillow was placed in the middle of the bed. Barnett rolled him over so that he was lying on his tummy, the pillow under his hips. His legs were pulled apart. The Hartswood captain got down on top of him, the big lad's penis probing his ring. It thrust inside. He gasped in pain. Slowly and insistently it advanced into him, stretching him almost to breaking point. All he could do was try to relax and make it as easy as possible. Within half a minute it was all the way in, Barnett's pubic hair scrunched up against his bottom.

Barnett began to fuck. Very gradually the pain ebbed away, masked by the feelings of pleasure produced by the big lad's penis thrusting repeatedly over his sex-button. To his surprise he found he was getting close, the tingling in his penis increasing by the second. He shuddered, his fingers clawing at the bed. In the next instant his penis sprang into action, his watery boy-cum squirting onto the pillow. Barnett was still going, thrusting into him relentlessly, the boy's warm breath flooding his nostrils. He heard him grunt. A moment later the big lad's semen flooded into his rectum.

After several seconds, Barnett carefully withdrew.

"I think you liked that," he growled. "I know I did."

He moved away. Armitage eased himself off the bed. He was sore; it had been ages since he'd taken one as big as that. He farted involuntarily, some of Barnett's semen escaping and trickling down his legs. He was annoyed that he'd ejaculated; it would keep him out of action for half an hour at least.

He looked around. The half light of the torch confirmed his suspicions. Barr was lying face down with Pienaar on top of him, fucking him energetically. Stallard was on all fours, where he always liked to be when he got fucked. Williamson was kneeling behind him, his penis pounding the little slut's arse. On the other side of the room, Sherwood and McKenzie were lying on their tummies being fucked by Rowe and Burgess. They'd just conceded a five-nil deficit; Lewis-Marshall would not be pleased. He slipped on his underpants, grabbed a towel and headed for the toilets.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mr. Kirby wished them good night, turned out the lights and closed the door. Kingsley waited in eager anticipation to see what would happen. Almost immediately a torch was turned on; a couple of seconds later somebody was getting into bed with him. It was Lewis-Marshall; he knew it would be.

"I've been waiting for this," the older boy hissed, tugging at Kingsley's underpants.

Kingsley raised his hips, allowing the older boy to pull them right off. He was expecting them to play around for a while and probably suck each other before any penetration took place; that's what he and Mark always did. But to his alarm, Lewis-Marshall simply dragged the pillow into the middle of the bed and flipped him over on top of it.

"Right, you little slut," Lewis-Marshall growled. "I'm going to give you what you came here for."

Some sticky goo was applied to his anus, Vaseline he later discovered, not the slippery KY that the Hartswood boys used. Fingers were inserted and quickly withdrawn. Before he had chance to protest, Lewis-Marshall was down on top of him, the older boy's stiff penis being forced through his sphincter. He squealed in pain, only for Lewis-Marshall to pick up his discarded underpants and stuff them into his mouth.

"Shut up!" the older boy barked. "You're our little bum-boy and you'll do as we say!"

Lewis-Marshall fucked him hard, pressing his full weight right on top of him. Even though his penis was no bigger than Mark's it was very painful.

"Here it comes!" the older boy gasped, his breathing harsh and uneven. "Take it, slut!!"

Kingsley was aware of the lad's penis jerking inside him, a few little jets of teen-cum being deposited in his rectum. A few seconds later it was quickly pulled out.

"I hope you like having it up your bum," Lewis-Marshall growled in his ear. "You're going to be getting a lot more of that before we've finished with you!"

Kingsley was frightened and confused. He'd been perfectly willing to have sex with them. They wouldn't have had to force him to do it, so why was he being treated like this? Mark was as tough as anybody, but he was always really gentle when they had sex, always made sure he had a good time. The older boys at Hartswood all treated their younger friends well. He'd expected these boys to do the same; instead he was being treated like he didn't matter. It was as though Lewis-Marshall wanted to hurt him, to humiliate him; it didn't make sense.

It had all gone badly wrong. Sex with Mark was wonderful; he enjoyed every second of it. Having sex with Lewis-Marshall was horrible, and he knew deep down that the older boy's friends would be no different. But he was a fighter; that's why he was in the rugby team. He wasn't going to cry; he'd get through it somehow. If things got too bad he'd escape; go next door and fetch Mark; he'd sort it out.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Darren followed Mr. Kirby to his apartment. It was nothing special, he noted, the furnishing surprisingly basic. He was nervous. Mr. Cooper was the only adult he'd been with, really the only one he'd wanted to go with. Mr. Kirby seemed okay, just like Mr. Cooper had said, but he was still unsure; the man wasn't as good looking as Mr. Cooper, not in as good shape either.

"Well, Proctor," Mr. Kirby intoned, "so you're Mr. Cooper's boy, are you?"

"Yes sir," Darren confirmed.

The man spoke in a very posh voice, like Mr. Burnham, the music master at Hartswood. Mr Burnham liked boys. Darren wondered if all men who spoke in that sort of voice liked boys. Mr Kirby started to undress him. He wasn't rough, but he wasn't gentle and sensuous like Mr. Cooper. In less than a minute he was stark naked.

"You did very well today," the man commented, beginning to remove his own clothes. "Played in every match, didn't you?"

"Yes sir," Darren confirmed. "Alex and I work together all the time."

"Alex?" Mr. Kirby queried. "That's Pienaar, isn't it?"

"Yes sir," Darren agreed.

He thought it odd that the boys were addressed by surnames only, but that was just how they did things at this school. In short order Mr Kirby was naked too, his penis fully erect. It was almost exactly the same size as Mr. Cooper's, Darren noted. Although not bad looking, the man definitely didn't have as good a body as his games master.

"So Mr. Cooper puts his dick up your bum, does he?" Mr. Kirby asked.

"Yes sir," Darren admitted.

"And do you like that?" Mr Kirby persisted.

"Yes sir," Darren repeated.

"Come on then!" the man said briskly, pulling a pillow into the middle of the bed and turning him over on top of it.

A well-lubed finger was pushed into Darren's bottom. The boy was disappointed. He really enjoyed the foreplay that he and Mr. Cooper engaged in, especially when they went to the flat on Sunday mornings, but it appeared that the man was going to fuck him straight off. His fears were confirmed when a second finger joined the first. It wasn't that he didn't like being fucked; it was just that the build up made it so much more enjoyable.

After a minute or so the fingers slid out, and sure enough the man lowered himself onto him. He thrust hard, penetrating the lad, pushing relentlessly until his penis was completely buried in the boy's bottom.

"You've got a beautiful little bum," Mr Kirby commented, "lovely and tight!"

Darren didn't respond, unable to think of anything to say. Mr. Kirby began to fuck. Darren couldn't work it out. The man was doing a good job, fucking him almost as well as Mr. Cooper did; he just couldn't understand why he was in such a hurry. A short time later he unloaded up Darren's bum. Less than ten minutes after they'd arrived at the apartment it was all over.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As soon as the torch came on, Fenner made directly for McIntyre's bed. He'd got a score to settle; during the rugby match the kid had made him look like an idiot, selling him a dummy then stepping smartly the other way, leaving him tackling thin air. Worse still, the kid had run on and scored under the posts. It was time to get his revenge. He grabbed the skinny boy's legs flipping him onto his tummy. He was surprised to find the lad was wearing gym shorts. He pulled them off. He coated his index finger with Vaseline then shoved it into the kid's anus.

"Ooooh!" McIntyre gasped.

He pulled it out. Gavin responded by getting onto all fours, his bottom pushed right back, his head and shoulders down on the bed. Fenner slammed his penis right into him.

"Oh, yeah!" Gavin groaned; "Do it man!"

Fenner complied without hesitation, fucking the kid like it was going out of fashion.

"Ohhh! Gavin sighed. "Oh yeah!"

Fenner was confused and annoyed. He was fucking the kid as hard as he knew how; McIntyre was simply lapping it up. He forced the boy down onto his tummy, slamming into him even harder. Within seconds, Gavin's body was wracked by wild convulsions. His penis swelled and jerked, little jets of watery fluid squirting onto the bed. It took Fenner right over the top, his semen spurting into McIntyre's bottom.

"Ohhh!! That was good, man!" Gavin breathed.

Fenner quickly pulled out, alleviating his frustration by smacking the kid sharply across the buttocks.

"Oh, fuck!" Gavin exploded.

Fenner was seething. He'd been as rough as he knew how, but the rougher he was, the more the kid liked it. He'd picked the wrong one! McIntyre was an even bigger slut than Stallard!

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim ushered Fielding into the guest bedroom.

"I understand you've done this sort of thing before," he said.

"Yes sir; we always do it when a visiting team stops over."

"Right, first things first," Jim said briskly. "What's your first name?"

"Matthew, sir," the boy said.

"That's better!" Jim said brightly, putting his arm around the lad's shoulder. "We call all the boys by their first names at our school. You don't mind me calling you Matthew, do you?"

"No, of course not, sir," Matthew said, smiling up at him.

Jim carefully removed Matthew's school tie, then helped him off with his sweater. He slowly unbuttoned the boy's shirt, easing it out of his shorts and slipping it off his arms. He ran his hands over Matthew's back then sat on the bed, reaching out to stroke the boy's silky-smooth thighs. Matthew was not quite as slim as the boys he usually went with, but he was very cute for all that. He ran his hand over the front of Matthew's shorts, pausing briefly to fondle the boy's throbbing erection.

He continued upwards, opening the top of Matthew's shorts and pulling down the zip. He smiled to himself. Gavin's shorts would have fallen down immediately; Matthew's stayed right where they were. He put his fingers inside the waistband, running them around to the back and over the boy's well-rounded bottom, easing the shorts down over the lad's hips. They fell to the floor. The boy's underpants were bright red, an anomaly Jim considered; one concession to modernity that the Fraylsham Park boys were allowed that the Hartswood boys weren't.

He ran his fingers over Matthew's hard little spike, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband and gently pulled them down. And there it was, the boy's most prized asset, a slim, uncut four inches, the tip just barely poking out of the foreskin, a pair of well-rounded balls beneath. There was not a trace of hair on him.

"Very nice!" he breathed. "Can you cum yet?"

"No sir," Matthew informed him.

He leaned forwards, taking it into his mouth, sucking it steadily, easing back the boy's foreskin and working his tongue all over the small, shiny head. The taste and texture were sheer perfection. He placed his hand just below Matthew's balls, reaching back to stroke the lad's perineum.

"Oooh, Oooh!!" Matthew gurgled. "Ohhh!!"

After thirty seconds Jim pulled away.

"Did you like that?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh yes sir!" Matthew responded eagerly. "Mr Kirby never does that!"

That was no surprise; Tristan had never been one for preliminaries.

"I guess he just fucks you," Jim suggested.

"Yes sir," Matthew agreed. "Are you going to fuck me, sir?"

"In time," Jim said languidly. "There's no rush. Is that what the other visiting masters do?"

"Yes sir," Matthew said.

That was no surprise either, given the circles that Tristan moved in, but he was going to do better.

"Get on the bed," he said quietly.

He lay on his side, drawing Matthew towards him. The boy seemed nervous, wooden.

"Just relax," he whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Very gently he pulled the boy closer, pushing his lips onto Matthew's. The lad was still very tense. He pulled away.

"Open your mouth when I kiss you," he said softly.

Their lips met for a second time. For a moment it was just as before, but suddenly Matthew melted into his arms, the boy's tongue pushing forwards into his mouth, becoming intertwined with his own. Matthew snuggled even closer, kissing passionately. Jim's ran his hands down Matthew's back and over his bottom, the boy's erection thrusting against his stomach. After several minutes, he eased himself away.

"So how was that?" he enquired.

"Fantastic!" Matthew breathed, his eyes sparkling. "I love you sir! You're the best!"

Jim grinned, remembering Duncan saying that to him more than seven years previously; he could hardly have been happier.

"Hmmm!" he said playfully, fondling the boy's penis. "Well right now I want some more of that!

He scooted down, resting his head on Matthew's tummy. He slid his lips over the boy's penis, pushing right down to the base, his tongue flicking out to slash at the lad's balls. Mathew stroked his hair, urging him on. He pulled the boy's knees apart to give him better access. He squeezed some KY onto his fingers, locating the boy's anus and pushing inside. There was no resistance, not that he'd expected any, Matthew gurgling quietly as he floated away to planet ecstasy.

Jim pushed in a second finger, driving both fingers in as deep as he could. He touched the boy's prostate.

"Ohhh!" Matthew moaned, his penis twitching delightfully.

Jim pulled away licking his lips. They snuggled up again.

"Would you like to suck mine?" he asked quietly, licking Matthew's nose.

"If you want, sir!" Matthew responded.

"Have you done it before?" Jim enquired.

"Once or twice, sir," Matthew told him.

"Well, just watch your teeth, okay?" Jim instructed. "And don't try to get down too far; just do what you're comfortable with."

Matthew twisted around, settling his head on Jim's tummy. He held the man's penis around the base, nervously moving his mouth towards it. He stuck out his tongue, licking the large purple head.

"Mmmmm!" Jim cooed.

Matthew placed his lips over Jim's penis, pushing slowly down until he had around two and half inches in his mouth. He took a deep breath and began to suck.

"Good boy!" Jim breathed, stroking Matthew's smooth blond hair.

In a strange way the boy's lack of experience made it even better; the sensations were indescribable. Jim felt himself getting close.

"You'd better stop now," he said quietly.

Matthew knelt up, grinning and licking his lips.

"Was that okay, sir?" he asked.

"That was excellent," Jim assured him.

He drew the boy into another passionate kiss, cocking Matthew's left leg over his own and working more KY into the boy's anus. The job completed, he let the fingers slide out.

"Are you going to fuck me now?" Matthew enquired.

"Yes, if you're ready," Jim said gently.

"Yes sir," Matthew confirmed. "How d'you want me?"

"How d'you like it best?" Jim asked.

"I don't mind, sir," Matthew said.

"Okay," Jim said, pulling a pillow into the middle of the bed. "Get on your tummy."

Matthew rolled over, the pillow under his hips, his legs spread apart. He was used to this; he'd been fucked in this position more times than he could count. Jim knelt between the lad's knees, smearing KY over his penis as he admired the boy's muscular thighs and well-rounded bottom. He carefully lowered himself into position, guiding it right onto the boy's sphincter. With one determined thrust he was inside. He paused for a moment then resumed pushing, slowly driving his penis deeper into Matthew's rectum until the boy was completely impaled. He settled himself, resting on his forearms.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes sir," Matthew responded.

He began to thrust, gradually building up the pace, fucking the boy relentlessly. Beneath him, Matthew moaned and whimpered. Mr. Cooper wasn't fucking him any different from the way Mr. Kirby did it, but all the playing around they'd done beforehand had got him so hot, it felt better, much better, the sensations of pleasure transporting him to places he'd never even dreamed of, the tingling in his penis driving him almost insane. His chest tightened, his breathing becoming short and uneven, his head swimming. The muscle spasms swept over him, his sphincter grabbing at the man's thrusting pole. A moment later his penis came to life, swelling and jerking against the pillow.

Jim was still going, but not for long. With one final thrust he completely impaled the boy, his semen spurting over and over into the lad's cute little bottom. Slowly and carefully he withdrew, rolling off onto his back. He lifted Matthew up, bringing the boy over on top of him, their lips meeting in a delicious, sensuous kiss.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Chris lay on his bed, watching intently, his eyes trained on Barr and Alex. In other circumstances, Barr's bed would have been his first port of call. After what seemed like an eternity, his team-mate twitched violently, caught in the throes of a powerful orgasm. There was another pause. Eventually, Alex lifted himself clear, giving the blond boy a peck on the cheek before clambering into his own bed a few feet away.

Chris was about to make a move, but almost immediately Barr sat up, slipped on his underpants and headed out of the dorm; going to the toilet, Chris assumed. He waited patiently. A few minutes later Barr reappeared, climbing straight back into bed. It was time to go. Chris picked up his tube of KY then walked noiselessly across the dorm, sliding in next to the slender blond boy.

"Hi, I'm Chris," he said gently. "What's your name?"

"Jocelyn," the boy told him. "You've just been with Armitage, haven't you?"

"Duty called, I'm afraid," he said quietly. "Had to make sure you boys knew whose dorm this was."

"You mean your boys have all just bummed one of ours?" Jocelyn enquired, stifling a giggle.

"Pretty much," Chris admitted. "We needed to even things up with what's going on next door."

"That's funny!" Jocelyn said. "You're right though; Lewis-Marshall's horrible. You know the really cute kid from your team, Brown is it? They were going to give him a really hard time; I heard them talking about it. I know what that means; they've done it to me."

"Bastard!" Chris whispered vehemently. "If Mark finds out he'll kill him."

"Which one's Mark?" Jocelyn asked.

"Burgess, short fair hair," Chris explained. "He's Kingsley's older friend; that's Kingsley Brown."

"Well I hope he does find out," Jocelyn said.

"You're a good kid," Chris told him.

Jocelyn reached out wrapping his fingers around Chris's penis. It stiffened rapidly, becoming fully hard in an instant.

"Wow!" Jocelyn breathed. "You've got a big one haven't you? I'm glad none of that lot has got one as big as yours!"

Chris snuggled closer, running his hand over Jocelyn's back, so smooth, so delicate so perfect, like a piece of the finest porcelain. He ran his fingers through Jocelyn's silky smooth hair, taking in lungfuls of the boy's aroma. He was completely captivated. In the weeks preceding the tournament he'd fantasised several times about what might happen; he'd never dared to dream he'd meet someone like Jocelyn. He reached down, tugging gently at the lad's underpants, Jocelyn raising his hips to assist in the task of removing them. Chris ran his hand over the boy's penis, small and wonderfully hard; perfect, just like the rest of him. Very gently, he moved his lips towards Jocelyn's. The blond boy responded instantly, their mouths meeting in a delicate, sensuous kiss.

"You do that beautifully," Chris breathed as their lips eventually parted.

"Alex showed me," Jocelyn said brightly. "I'd never done it before."

"You're incredible!" Chris whispered.

He rolled onto his back, pulling Jocelyn over on top of him, the blond boy's penis grinding against his stomach. He ran his hands down Jocelyn's back and onto his bottom, sliding his index finger down the boy's crack. He located Jocelyn's anus. It was extremely tight.

"Are you going to bum me?" Jocelyn asked.

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid I might hurt you," Chris responded a little sadly, words he'd never thought he'd say.

It was true though. When he'd become Daniel's older friend some eighteen months previously he'd been much smaller. As he'd grown, Daniel had adjusted quite naturally to accommodate him. Now he was faced with penetrating the pencil-slim Jocelyn; not hurting him would be all but impossible.

"You can do it if you want," Jocelyn insisted.

"We'll try it," Chris said soothingly. "If it's hurting too much, I'll stop, okay?"

"Yeah," Jocelyn agreed.

"But right now there's something else I want," Chris announced.

He slid down the bed, taking Jocelyn's penis into his mouth. He sucked it eagerly, savouring its throbbing hardness. It was small, even smaller than Daniel's had been when they'd first begun going together. He opened his mouth wide, sucking in Jocelyn's marble-sized balls, weighing them on his tongue, the boy's genitals filling his mouth. Jocelyn moaned and squirmed, hardly knowing where he was, overwhelmed by the wonderful new sensations that the Hartswood captain was giving him.

Chris squeezed some KY onto his fingers. He slipped his hand between Jocelyn's legs, quickly homing in on the boy's puckered entrance. Very gently he pushed inside. Jocelyn's sphincter gripped his finger like a vice; he didn't remember Daniel ever being as tight as that. It merely confirmed what he already knew; fucking the boy without hurting him was not within the realms of possibility.

He continued nonetheless; he had to be able to say he'd tried his best. Very slowly, Jocelyn relaxed. Chris pushed in further, his finger touching the lad's prostate, Jocelyn's penis twitching sharply. For the next minute he slowly finger-fucked the boy, wondering how Jocelyn could possibly accommodate anything much larger. He inserted a second finger. Jocelyn winced, his anus trying to repel the new invader. Eventually he relaxed, allowing Chris to make further progress. He touched Jocelyn's prostate again, the boy's penis reacting much as it had before. Very carefully he twisted his fingers around, gently opening Jocelyn's sphincter. There was nothing more he could do. He took his mouth from the boy's genitals and allowed his fingers to slide slowly out.

Jocelyn grabbed the pillow and placed it in the middle of the bed, rolling onto his tummy without even being asked. Chris lubed up his penis then lowered himself into position. He was harder than he'd ever been, but it still wasn't going to work; Jocelyn would scream the place down when it went into him. He pushed firmly. There was no movement at all. He tried again, pushing a little harder. Suddenly Jocelyn's sphincter gave way and he was inside. Jocelyn winced sharply but emitted barely a squeak.

"Shall I take it out?" Chris whispered.

"No!" Jocelyn hissed, his voice betraying how much pain he was in. "Just stay where you are! Don't put any more in till I tell you."

Chris complied, remaining completely still, supporting his weight on the palms of his hands. At last Jocelyn began to relax.

"You can push some more in now," the boy whispered, his breathing still short and shallow.

Very gently Chris pushed down, his penis sinking slowly into Jocelyn's rectum. Finally he came to a halt, his tummy pressed tight against the blond lad's bottom. He could hardly believe he'd managed it.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah!" Jocelyn confirmed.

Chris took a deep breath and began to fuck. At first he kept it slow, the strokes fairly short. Gradually he built it up, his thrusts becoming longer, more powerful, fucking the boy harder, deeper, faster. Beneath him Jocelyn moaned and whimpered, the thrusts of the older boy's penis over his prostate taking him to heights of pleasure he'd never even dreamed of. Suddenly he gasped, his body gripped by a shuddering climax, his hard little prong swelling and jiggling against the pillow. Chris had gone right over the edge.

"Oh fuck!" he groaned. "I'm gonna cum!!"

He held on tight, his semen flooding into Jocelyn's rectum as though it was never going to stop. Finally it was over. He sank right down, his heart pounding against Jocelyn's back, his head swimming. It had been a mind-blowing experience. He loved Daniel to bits, but sex with Daniel had never once been as intense as that. Eventually his breathing began to slow. Very carefully he eased himself clear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still breathing hard. "Fuck! That was unbelievable!"

"Mmmmm!!" Jocelyn confirmed, rolling onto his side, his eyes sparkling. "That was amazing! You made my thing jump about; it's never done that before!" He paused for a moment. "Sorry, I need the toilet," he concluded.

He got off the bed and headed out of the dorm, walking a little awkwardly. A few minutes later he returned, getting back into bed and snuggling right up again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Chris enquired.

"Well, my bum's a bit sore," Jocelyn conceded, "but that won't kill me, will it?" he added brightly, giving Chris the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen.

Chris wrapped his arms around Jocelyn's back, marvelling at his good fortune. Jocelyn was without doubt the most beautiful, amazing, sexy kid ever, and he hadn't just met him; he'd fucked him senseless. Things couldn't get much better than that.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After a short rest, Tristan took Darren to the dorm where Lewis-Marshall was. He looked around. Lewis-Marshall was lying on top of Palmer, fucking him remorselessly. Sheldon was on his back, his legs over Fenner's shoulders, the skinhead boy's penis pounding into his bottom. McIntyre was down on all fours, being fucked by Stark, with Thornton was urging his friend on, obviously keen to take his place.

It seemed that they'd already finished with Brown, for the time being at least. They'd have taken turns on him; it was what they always did. Lewis-Marshall would have gone first, of course, while Stark and Thornton waited their turn. Fenner, on the other hand, would have fucked one of the other boys while he was waiting. Tristan knelt down by Brown's bed.

"I want you to come to my apartment," he said firmly.

Kingsley shrugged and got out of bed. It wasn't that he wanted to go with the man, but it couldn't be worse than staying with these savages. Leaving Darren to his fate, Tristan strode purposefully along the corridor, Kingsley walking silently alongside. Reaching the apartment he ushered the boy inside, directing him straight to his bedroom.

Finally he was able to get a proper look at the boy. He was very cute, certainly, but the eager smile he'd noticed earlier was gone. Brown looked apprehensive, resentful, as though there under protest.

"Well, Brown," Tristan intoned. "Are you all right?"

"Sir," Kingsley returned curtly, not even looking at the man.

"Would I be right in thinking that Lewis-Marshall and his associates treated you rather more roughly than you're used to?"

"Sir, Tristan admitted, shrugging slightly. "It wasn't that I didn't want to have sex with them; I did," he continued, "But they were horrible."

"How were they horrible?" Tristan probed.

"I've only ever been with Mark before," Kingsley explained.

"Mark?" Tristan interjected.

"Burgess, sir," Kingsley said. "He's always really nice to me, you know, very gentle when he puts his dick up me. They weren't. They called me a slut and said I had to do whatever they said. And they weren't gentle at all; it was almost like they wanted to hurt me."

Tristan sighed. They were only doing what boys at the top of the school had always done, but Lewis-Marshall and Fenner invested the business with an element of venom, seemingly intent on making the younger boy's experience as unpleasant as possible. All such gangs ruled by fear to some extent; there was nothing new in that, but Lewis-Marshall was exceptionally and quite unnecessarily vicious. On the other hand, it appeared that Brown had been allowed a very cosseted existence. Having only experienced a single and very considerate sex-partner, being plunged into the maelstrom of a far more traditional prep school was bound to be a shock.

"I need to take a look at it," Tristan cooed. "Bend over there for me."

Kingsley complied with an air of resignation, resting his hands on the bedside cabinet. Tristan knelt down behind, easing down the boy's soiled underpants before pulling them off over his feet. Naked, Brown was every bit as desirable as he'd imagined. He ran his hands up the back of the boy's thighs and onto his shapely bottom, using his thumbs to prise the lad's cheeks apart. Brown's anus was bruised, the area to either side severely chafed, a little semen still seeping out. The boy was right, he concluded. He wasn't a virgin and neither Lewis-Marshall not any of this associates was exceptionally large; there should have been no need to get him into that state. At Lewis-Marshall's instigation, they'd hurt him on purpose.

Tristan leaned forwards his tongue extended. He lapped at the chafed area before homing in on Brown's sphincter. He licked it insistently, building the pressure. All at once it relaxed, allowing him inside. Kingsley moaned, hardly able to believe the wonderful new sensations the man was giving him, his penis becoming harder by the second. Tristan reached around, sliding his fingers over the boy's pre-pubescent prong. It was throbbing delightfully.

He pulled back. He picked up the tube of KY, squeezing some onto his fingers. The boys always used Vaseline, one of the more pointless traditions that they insisted on maintaining. He inserted his index finger into Brown's anus, pushing it steadily inwards until he touched the boy's prostate.

"Ohhhh!!" Kingsley gasped.

Tristan carefully inserted his middle finger too, moving both fingers around in a scissoring motion to loosen Brown's sphincter. His task completed, he allowed his fingers to be pushed out. He got to his feet. Dropping his shorts, he smeared a little more KY over his rampant penis. He moved in close, guiding it onto its target. He held the boy around the thighs, penetrating him with a single, powerful thrust.

"Aaaarrrggghhh!!!" Kingsley wailed, his sphincter being stretched to unprecedented dimensions, the searing, stabbing pain so severe he almost blacked out.

For the second time that night, his underpants were stuffed into his mouth.

"Just be quiet, there's a good chap," Tristan said calmly. "You knew this was going to happen when you came here, so relax and enjoy it. If I'm not mistaken, right about now Mr. Cooper will be doing exactly the same to young Barr, the slim, blond boy out of my team. He'll be getting his bottom stretched just like you are."

Tristan began to fuck, savouring the tightness of Brown's cute little bottom. He'd been waiting for this moment from the moment he set eyes on the boy and it had finally arrived. Better still, it wasn't just meeting his expectations; it was exceeding them. Brown was the best fuck he'd had in a long time. Kingsley moaned and whimpered, fighting back the tears, the pain still excruciating. Strangely though, it began to ease, overtaken by the feelings of pleasure as the man's penis stimulated his sex-button. He knew all about those feelings from all the times that Mark had fucked him, but their intensity far outstripped anything that Mark had been able to give him. Almost in spite of himself, his penis became harder than ever. The man's fingers wrapped themselves around it.

"Uhhhh!" Kingsley groaned, bucking violently, his legs almost giving way beneath him.

"Good boy!" Tristan cooed, his breathing becoming harsh and ragged. "Oh yes! Yes!!!"

He tightened his grip on Brown's thighs, depositing rope after rope of warm, creamy semen in the lad's bottom. For almost half a minute he remained where he was, his breathing gradually returning to normal. Eventually he withdrew.

"Good boy!" he repeated. "Just run along to the bog; we don't want you making a mess, first door on the right."

Kingsley straightened up, making his way awkwardly out of the room. Running was out of the question; his bottom felt as though he'd had a red-hot poker up there. He returned several minutes later. Although he was still sore, it was becoming easier. Tristan was already in bed. He motioned for the boy to join him. Kingsley shrugged and complied, slipping on his underpants before getting into bed. It was, he decided, better than being returned to Lewis-Marshall and his cronies. Tristan set the alarm for four o'clock, turned out the bedside light, and fell asleep, his arm around Kingsley's shoulder.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Armitage sat on the toilet, Barnett's semen running out of him. The boy had cum loads, far more than Thornton ever did; he'd soiled his briefs just walking the short distance from the dorm. He cleaned up as best he could and made his way to the showers. He had plenty of time; after shooting off on the pillow it would be a while before his balls were ready for further action. He spent ten minutes relaxing under the soothing warm water. Feeling better, he turned off the shower and strolled back into the drying area. Having towelled himself off, he picked up his underpants; they were still damp. He shrugged and pulled them on.

Very quietly, he made his way back into the dorm. The torch was still on. He checked around. Barnett was snuggled up with Barr, although they didn't seem to be doing much. There were various other couplings in progress, but crucially the South African boy was back in his own bed and not involved. He slipped in next to him. The boy didn't raise any objection. He tried to turn him onto his tummy, but the lad pulled away from him.

"Hey!" Alex hissed. "Don't be in so much of a hurry! We've got all night!"

Armitage relented; there seemed little point in getting into a fight over it, and in any case the boy was stronger than he looked. To his surprise, the lad snuggled right up to him, the kid's hard penis pressing against his groin. Alex had noticed Armitage the moment they entered the dorm; with his jet black hair and olive skin, the lad reminded him of some of the mixed-race boys that he'd known in South Africa. There was nobody like that at Hartswood.

"What's your name?" Alex whispered.

"Armitage."

"No, your first name."

"Blake."

"Hi, I'm Alex."

"Cool! Did you just fuck Barr?"

"D'you mean Jocelyn?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah! Cute little arse!"

"I've not been there yet; Lewis-Marshall's been keeping him to himself."

"He's a bastard, isn't he?" Alex ventured. "That's what Jocelyn said."

"Pretty much," Blake conceded, "but he's rugby team captain so he can do as he likes."

"Chris fucked you just now, didn't he?" Alex said, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Blake admitted. "Did he plan that? I thought he'd jump straight in with, er . . , Jocelyn."

"Yeah," Alex whispered. "He said that the one next door was your dorm; we'd got the make sure this one was ours."

"Well, you did that all right," Blake told him. "We'll never catch that up. He's got a big cock, man; my arse feels like it's on fire."

"Yeah, I know!" Alex whispered, stifling a giggle.

"So has he fucked you then?" Blake asked.

"No," Alex said. "Daniel's his boy; Palmer, next door with that lot."

"Oh, right," Blake said absently, the idea of the rugby captain having 'a boy', rather than fucking any kid that took his fancy being a completely alien concept.

Alex snuggled even closer, his face millimetres from Blake's.

"Boys don't kiss," Blake said.

"We do!" Alex responded, placing his lips firmly on top of Blake's.

Blake opened his mouth to protest, only for Alex's tongue to push right inside, the South African boy's aroma filling his nostrils like some magical sex drug. He was more aroused than he could ever remember, kissing passionately, his tongue wrestling with Alex's, his hands running all over the smaller boy's back and down onto his perfect bottom. Finally, their lips parted.

"See!! I told you!" Alex whispered, grinning. "What do you like doing?"

"Fucking mainly," Blake said. "What about you?"

"I like it both ways," Alex told him. "D'you suck?"

"I do sometimes," Blake conceded, grimacing at the memory of the occasions when he'd had to take Thornton's penis in his mouth before the lad fucked him.

"I do," Alex said, "I love that too."

He reached down, wrapping his fingers around Blake's uncircumcised five inch penis.

"Nice cock!" he breathed.

He scooted round, placing his head on Blake's tummy. He licked his lips then took the bigger lad's penis into his mouth, sucking it right down to the base. Blake was in ecstasy. He'd never bothered asking the younger boys he went with to suck him; he'd never realised how good it could feel. Alex snaked around so that his hard prong was inches from Blake's mouth. Blake hesitated for a second. He didn't want to do this. But he did want to do it. He took a deep breath and plunged down on it, sucking it hungrily, savouring it, hard and hot in his mouth. Alex sensed that Blake was starting to get close and pulled away.

"D'you want to fuck me now?" he asked.

"Yeah," Blake confirmed.

"You'll need to use some of this first," Alex said, passing him the tube.

"What is it?" Blake queried. "We use Vaseline."

"KY; Vaseline's far too greasy," Alex said dismissively. "This stuff's much better."

Blake squeezed some onto his fingers and carefully worked it into Alex's bottom. The lad was ready; he let his fingers slide out. While Blake smeared some KY over his penis, Alex pulled the pillow into the middle of the bed, rolling over on top of it. Blake lowered himself into position, guiding his penis onto Alex's twitching sphincter. He thrust it in.

"Ohhh, yeah!" Alex moaned.

Blake continued to push, his penis disappearing into Alex's rectum until his tummy was pressed tight against the smaller boy's bottom. Instinctively he began to fuck. Alex moaned with pleasure. He loved being fucked. He loved it when Peter did it in the dorm at Hartswood, but Blake was bigger, stronger and better looking, pretty much his ideal. He was in ecstasy, Blake's penis thrusting remorselessly into him, the sensations the most perfect he'd ever experienced. His breathing began to shorten. He shuddered wildly; a moment later he ejaculated on the pillow.

For a short while Blake continued to pound into him. There was a sudden gasp. In the next instant Blake's warm, creamy semen was spurting into his rectum. After several seconds Blake withdrew. The two boys rolled onto their sides, facing each other, gently drawing each other into an affectionate hug, Alex's head resting on Blake's chest.

They lay there quietly, not saying a word. Blake was completely overwhelmed; he'd never had sex like it. In just a few short minutes he'd developed feelings for Alex that he would never have believed possible. Alex was incredible, perfect; he wished the young South African could stay with him forever. The build-up and the emotions had made everything so much better than any of his previous experiences. The icing on the cake was that Alex had enjoyed it every bit as much as he had.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim woke up with a start. For a moment he was disorientated, struggling to identify the unfamiliar surroundings. Then it came to him; he was in the guest bedroom and Fraylsham Park, the bedside light still on, a sleeping Matthew snuggled up next to him. He checked his watch. It was twenty to one. They must have been asleep for a couple of hours, he calculated; it had, after all, been a long and tiring day.

But he was awake now, and ready for further action. A repeat performance with Matthew would not have been unwelcome, but just along the corridor there were more enticing prospects. Of course, he might get to the dorm only to find Barr busily engaged with one of his boys, McKenzie too, quite possibly, but in that event he could always bring Matthew back again. He roused the boy.

"Just put your underpants on," he said quietly. "We're going for a little walk."

"Are you taking me to the dorm where your bigger boys are?" Matthew asked.

"Yes," Jim confirmed. "Don't worry; they're all quite civilised."

Jim slipped on a pair of shorts and a polo top. They made their way along the corridor. Jim resisted the temptation to look in on the dorm where Kingsley was, worried about what he might find. He opened the door to the other dorm, ushering Matthew inside. A torch was providing a little illumination. He checked around. There was one coupling in progress; Clifford was definitely fucking somebody although he couldn't make out who it was. The remaining boys seemed to be asleep, one couple snuggled up together, the others, including Barr, back in their own beds. He was in luck.

He gently roused the slim, blond boy.

"I'd like you to come to my bedroom," he said quietly.

Jocelyn shook himself awake, swinging himself out of bed. He'd been told about this. He stood up, dressed just in a pair of skimpy white briefs. Jim motioned for Matthew to take his place, ushering Jocelyn out of the room. The boy accompanied him without protest, seeming surprisingly composed. Moments later they were closeted in the privacy of the guest bedroom. Jim pulled off his top and sat on the bed, motioning for Jocelyn to sit next to him. He put his arm around the boy's shoulder.

"So who have you been with so far?" he enquired.

"Alex and Chris and Mark," Jocelyn said, not showing a trace of embarrassment.

"That's good; you're using their first names," Jim said appreciatively. "What's yours?"

"They told me to, sir," the boy responded. "I'm Jocelyn."

"Excellent," Jim said. "And how was it?"

"Good, sir," Jocelyn said. "They're all really nice, much nicer than . . ."

"Lewis-Marshall and his cronies?" Jim suggested.

"Yes sir," Jocelyn agreed.

"I understand Lewis-Marshall has been keeping you to himself," Jim said.

"He did until last Saturday, sir."

"So what happened last Saturday?"

"After we'd gone to bed, Lewis-Marshall and Fenner came to our dorm. They made me go with them. They took me to the dorm where they are now. The other two were there as well. They took my underpants off then they . . . ." His voice trailed away. "They took turns on me," he said, looking at the floor. "It was horrible. Afterwards they wouldn't even let me go to the toilet. Lewis-Marshall took me back to his dorm. I had to get in bed with him. I was lying on my side with him behind me; he stuck it up me again. When he'd finished he fell asleep with his thing still inside me. When we woke up in the morning he did me again. He got all the other boys in the dorm to watch him do it. Some of them were wanking themselves off while they watched; I could see them. When it was all over he just kicked me out. I had to walk back to my own dorm just in my underpants."

Jim was incensed. "That's appalling," he said firmly. "I hope none of my boys treated you like that."

"No sir," Jocelyn assured him. "They were all really nice; really gentle, especially Chris."

Jim smiled. Chris was a good lad, but he'd never thought of him as being particularly gentle; he certainly wasn't like that on the rugby pitch.

"Oh, really!" he commented. "I'm pleased to hear that."

"When he got in bed with me," Jocelyn continued. "I was really nervous because, well, he's got a big one, hasn't he? I hadn't taken one that big before."

Jim nodded; Chris could quite easily pass for fifteen and had the penis to go with it.

"Anyway he just snuggled up to me, stroking and cuddling; it felt great," Jocelyn went on. "He was whispering how cute I was; it was a bit embarrassing really. He'd been with Armitage before me, so I thought he was just taking his time."

"Armitage?" Jim queried. "Is that the dark-skinned boy?"

"Yeah! Fenner calls him a wog. He's not; his mother's Greek. Fenner's an idiot."

"Seems an odd choice," Jim commented. "I thought he'd have gone straight for you."

"Oh, he did that on purpose," Jocelyn said. "He wanted to make sure that when it started all your boys were, you know, on top."

Jim chuckled; Chris was even smarter than he'd thought. He quickly quietened down, listening intently as Jocelyn completed his story.

"Well, I'm pleased you had a good time," he whispered.

"I wish the older boys here were like that," Jocelyn commented. "All they want to do is bum us."

Jim reached across, gently stroking Jocelyn's slender thighs.

"I understand you've only been here since Christmas," he said quietly. "Where were you before that?"

"Denmark, sir," Jocelyn said. "Daddy was the ambassador there. I went to the English school in Copenhagen."

"Oh, I see," Jim said.

"Anyway, daddy got posted to Brazil," Jocelyn continued. "He had to go; it's a really important job. They've just built a new capital city, out in the middle of nowhere. Daddy said we couldn't live there. He said he wouldn't have taken us even if the capital was still in Rio; it's too dangerous. So mummy moved back to our house in London and I came here."

"Don't you mind the way the boys here have treated you?" Jim asked. "You seem to be taking it remarkably well."

"There's not much I can do, is there?" Jocelyn said, shrugging. "It's not just me; it's most of the younger kids. That's how it is here. I wish I was at your school; it seems much better."

"Why don't' you ask if you can move?" Jim suggested. "The son of our ambassador to Mexico is at our school; he's in Upper Fourth."

"What's his name?" Jocelyn enquired.

"Peter Cranham," Jim said.

"Oh, that must be Sir Hugh Cranham's son," Jocelyn remarked. "I've met Sir Hugh; daddy knows him quite well."

"Well, just say to your father that you aren't very happy here; some of the older boys are picking on you, but you met some boys from our school when we came to the sevens tournament and they were much nicer and much better behaved. They told you that we don't allow bullying at Hartswood. Mention that Peter goes there; see what he says. It can't hurt, can it?"

"I'll do that sir," Jocelyn said, smiling up at him.

Jim leaned forwards, placing his lips over Jocelyn's. The boy responded passionately, wrapping his skinny arms around Jim's neck, his tongue pushing into the games master's mouth. Jim eased the lad back onto the bed, running his hand down his silk-smooth chest and onto the boy's throbbing erection. He put his fingers into the waistband of Jocelyn's briefs, gently tugging at them, Jocelyn lifting his hips off the bed to enable the man to pull them off, exposing his uncut penis, very slim and barely three inches long.

Jim glanced down. Jocelyn was a total delight, absolute perfection, definitely one of the most beautiful boys he'd ever seen. More than that, he was intelligent and perceptive. He'd be a great asset to Hartswood if his father would agree to move him; he was wasted at a backwater like Fraylsham Park. Best of all, Jocelyn was positively eager to have sex with boys who treated him decently; with him as well, or so it seemed. He slid his hand over Jocelyn's penis, reaching down to tickle the boy's marble-sized balls. Jocelyn responded by kissing him more passionately than ever.

Jim quickly removed his jockey shorts and lay down on the bed, pulling Jocelyn over on top of him.

"Wow! You've got a big one, haven't you sir?" Jocelyn breathed excitedly, his eyes like saucers. "Are you going to bum me too?"

"I will if you want me to," Jim responded, knowing full well that he was going to get there.

"Will you do it like Chris and the other boys did?" Jocelyn asked.

"You mean on your tummy?" Jim enquired.

"Yes sir," Jocelyn confirmed.

"I'd like that very much," Jim whispered, licking the boy's ear.

He moved down the bed, leaning across to take Jocelyn's penis into his mouth, sucking it lovingly. He slipped his hand between Jocelyn's legs, quickly locating the boy's sphincter. He pushed inside. Unsurprisingly there was no resistance at all. Having taken Chris's penis and two others in the previous few hours, the boy was as ready as he was going to be. Jim withdrew his fingers.

"Come on then," he said gently, releasing the boy's penis.

He picked up one of the pillows, placing it in the middle of the bed. Jocelyn moved quickly into position, lying there submissively while Jim lubricated himself. Jim looked down. Before him was one of the most beautiful sights he could have dreamed of, Jocelyn's long, slender legs, and the most delightful bottom imaginable, the boy's anus and the area around it bearing the marks of earlier penetrations. He lowered himself into position, his penis nuzzling the lad's sphincter. With one determined thrust, he was inside.

"Yeowww!!" Jocelyn yelped.

Instinctively, Jim grabbed Jocelyn's underpants and stuffed them in the boy's mouth. There could be no turning back; there never was.

"Be quiet, there's a good boy," he cooed. "We don't want you frightening the horses. Relax; you've done the hard part. I'm going to make you feel really good, just like Chris did."

Jim pushed his penis slowly but insistently into the Jocelyn's rectum until the boy was completely impaled. After taking a moment to steady himself, he began to fuck, driving his penis relentlessly into the boy's anus with long, powerful thrusts. He was in total ecstasy. He had been dreaming of this since he first noticed the lad several hours earlier. His dreams had come to fulfilment, the sensations too wonderful to describe. Beneath him, Jocelyn lay totally submissive, underpants still in his mouth, Jim fucking him even harder. Suddenly Jocelyn began to shudder, his sphincter clamping tight around Jim's invading penis, his hard spike swelling and jerking against the pillow.

"Good boy!!" Jim breathed. "Oh yes!! Ohhhhh!"

Almost immediately Jim's orgasm was upon him, the whole room shaking as though hit by a major earthquake. He held Jocelyn's shoulders as his semen unloaded into the boy's bottom. After several seconds he carefully withdrew, leaning forward to remove the gag from Jocelyn's mouth.

"Well done, little one," he whispered. "You were amazing. Are you okay?"

Jocelyn rolled onto his side, Jim flopping down to face him, their noses almost touching.

"That was incredible!" he gasped. "It hurt like hell when it went up, but afterwards . . . , wow!!" He giggled. "I think my bum's going to be sore for a week!"

"You're a great kid!" Jim said, smiling and licking the boy's nose.

They snuggled up, Jocelyn resting his head on Jim's chest. In just a few seconds they were both asleep.

Part Eleven

'Social Interaction Abrasions'
- Conclusion

Chris lay in bed, half asleep, reflecting on what an incredible night he'd had. After starting off with Blake Armitage, which had been far more enjoyable than he'd expected, he'd moved on to the amazing Jocelyn Barr. It had been the experience of his life.

Half an hour after they'd finished fucking, he'd kissed Jocelyn good night and gone to find fresh fields to conquer. He'd selected Rhys Stallard. Though not as stunning as Jocelyn, he was small and cute, an obvious candidate, or so it appeared. He'd been disappointed; Stallard was very passive and far too accustomed to having a large penis inside him; it seemed that the boy was even more of a slut than Gavin McIntyre. With considerable effort, he'd managed to ejaculate, just about; it had hardly been what he'd expected.

He'd retired to his own bed to regain his strength and consider his next move. Going back to Jocelyn was one possibility, but he'd been somewhat reluctant to do that with most of the night still in front of him. Mark had taken his place there in any case. It would have to be McKenzie, he'd decided, the long-haired boy, quite a bit bigger than Rhys or Jocelyn but still very cute.

He'd watched and waited, giving his balls chance to recover. Mark finished with Jocelyn, returning to his own bed and falling asleep; the possibility had opened up again. It had been quickly snuffed out when Mr. Cooper appeared, taking Jocelyn away and leaving Matthew Fielding in his place. So he'd had a different decision to make, Fielding or McKenzie. It wasn't an easy choice, but Fielding was the smaller of the two, blond and clearly in need of company. He'd left McKenzie for later.

It had proved a good choice. Matthew was eager and affectionate, and although he was Mr. Kirby's boy and could accommodate him quite easily, he was definitely not a slut. After some quite delicious foreplay he'd given the lad a long, slow fuck. Matthew was not quite in Jocelyn's league, but it had been very satisfying nonetheless.

Once more he'd withdrawn to his own bed. Fucking four times in one night was three more than he was used to and two more than he'd ever previously managed; McKenzie would have to wait.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Chris drifted in and out of sleep, finally brought back to life when Mr. Cooper re-appeared, bringing Jocelyn with him. He watched as the games master looked around. It seemed that he was after McKenzie too, but the long haired boy was otherwise occupied, lying top to toe with Alex, the two of them sucking each other like it was going out of fashion. Very quietly, Mr. Cooper made his way across the room.

"Please don't go with Jocelyn again," the games master whispered in Chris's ear. "He's a great kid, but he's pretty sore now; he's had enough for one night, okay?"

"Yes sir," Chris acknowledged.

Mr. Cooper gave Jocelyn an affectionate peck on the cheek and left the dorm, leaving the door slightly ajar. A short while later, Chris heard voices from the corridor; Mr. Cooper's was one, the other sounded like Lewis-Marshall, although he couldn't be sure. As he listened, Alex and McKenzie concluded their sixty-nine. Seemingly oblivious to everything else, Alex rolled onto his tummy, the pillow beneath his hips. McKenzie, his circumcised penis considerably thicker than Chris had expected, quickly lubed him up then got down on top. Chris grinned; Alex was about to give a goal away. It wasn't a surprise. Chris knew that although Alex had a younger friend, he still loved taking it. Chris sighed, lay back and drifted off to sleep.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim stuck his head into the other dorm. Gavin was down on all fours, Thornton's penis in his mouth, Stark fucking him from behind. It was hardly unexpected. He checked around. Darren was there, fast asleep; Kingsley wasn't; he knew what that meant. Still, he reckoned Kingsley was probably safer with Tristan than he would have been with Lewis-Marshall and his hoodlums. The thought made him start. Where was Lewis-Marshall? Fenner too for that matter? Lee and Daniel were there, also asleep; that was it. Fenner and Lewis-Marshall were missing. He wandered back onto the corridor trying to work out what to do next. A couple of minutes later the two missing boys, wearing shorts and polo shirts, appeared at the far end of the corridor, heading towards him. They were accompanied by a younger boy dressed only in his underpants. The hair rose on the back of Jim's neck; these two were up to no good.

"Glad we've found you, sir," Lewis-Marshall said, a smirk on his face. "We've brought you a present. This is Beech."

The boy was no more than ten and appeared to be scared out of his wits.

"First name?" Jim enquired, looking right at him.

"L-l-l-laurence sir," the boy stuttered, almost too frightened to speak.

"Take him back," Jim said firmly.

"Sir, we'll go to your bedroom," Lewis-Marshall continued in a most condescending tone, "then we'll all have a little fun together."

For a moment Jim's penis stirred at the prospect, but it was only a moment. From what Jocelyn had told him, he knew what Lewis-Marshall's idea of fun was. Lewis-Marshall and Fenner would take turns on the boy then invite him to follow them. If Laurence had been willing he might just have gone along with it, but that was clearly not the case.

"I told you to take him back," he repeated, enunciating every syllable. "And make it quick; I want you back here in five minutes and I don't want to have to come looking for you. Fenner, you stay here."

Lewis-Marshall looked most put out, but he didn't argue. He slunk off down the corridor, taking the younger boy with him. Jim watched them go, Fenner standing next to him. They turned the corner and disappeared. Jim opened the door to the dormitory. Stark and Thornton had finished with Gavin, the three of them now in separate beds and all apparently asleep.

"Get in there," he ordered, turning back to Fenner.

Fenner complied; he certainly wasn't going to argue.

"Sit there and don't move!" Jim snapped, pointing to the nearest vacant bed.

Jim returned to the corridor to await Lewis-Marshall's return. A few minutes later the boy was back, his face a mask of resentment. Jim ushered him into the dorm, closing the door behind them.

"Stand up!" he growled at Fenner.

Fenner got to his feet. Jim sat in front of the two miscreants.

"So, do you two enjoy scaring little boys half to death?" he asked pointedly.

Lewis-Marshall shrugged, the two boys looking at each other. Neither of them spoke; dumb insolence, Jim considered. At Hartswood it would have earned them a caning; John Halford would have cut their backsides in half.

"I've been hearing about the way that you pair operate," Jim continued calmly, "and I can't say I like it. In any case, Laurence is a little young for my taste." He paused for a second. "You're not though," he added, nodding at Fenner. "Come with me!"

Fenner looked bewildered; this was clearly the last thing he'd expected to happen.

"Oh, I like tall slim boys," Jim added mockingly, "Didn't Mr. Kirby tell you? He must have forgotten."

"Sir! I don't," Fenner stammered, "I mean, I've never, er . . , you know . . ."

"Never taken it before?" Jim ventured. "Well, well well! You'll be nice and tight for me, won't you?"

Fenner looked panic-stricken, turning towards Lewis-Marshall for support. Lewis-Marshall shrugged. They were facing a hundred and ninety five pounds of solid muscle; neither of them was more than a hundred and fifteen wringing wet. It was hopeless; the man could have picked both of them up if he'd wanted to. Even if Stark and Thornton had woken up, it wouldn't have made much difference. Fenner's shoulders slumped. Jim stood up and shepherded him onto the corridor. He opened the door to the guest room.

"In you go," he said curtly.

He followed Fenner inside, locking the door behind them.

"Take your top off," he commanded.

Fenner did as he was told. Jim looked him over. With his top polo shirt removed, the skinhead boy was even nicer looking than he'd imagined, his pale skin completely flawless. He sat on the bed, reaching out to open Fenner's shorts, easing them over the boy's hips. They fell to the floor. The boy's pale blue briefs quickly followed. The boy wasn't erect; his nervousness had precluded it. He had a nice uncut penis though, Jim noted, about average size for a thirteen year old, a pair of large, well-formed balls hanging loosely beneath. There was not a trace of hair on him.

He held Fenner's flaccid penis in his fingers, leaning forward to take it into his mouth. He sucked it expertly. Once again, Fenner was taken completely by surprise; although he'd never been in that position, he knew it wasn't something Mr. Kirby would have done. His penis quickly became erect, expanding to a medium-thick five inches. He was totally overwhelmed by the sensations; the man was doing a far better job than any of the younger boys ever did, his orgasm getting closer by the second. He was so absorbed in the blow-job that Jim was giving him, he failed to notice the man's hand sliding between his legs, a greasy finger tickling his rear entrance.

Within seconds, Fenner's orgasm hit him, his legs shaking so badly he could barely stand up. His penis jerked wildly, warm, creamy boy-nectar spurting into Jim's mouth. In the same instant Jim forced his index finger into Fenner's anus, thrusting it in as far as possible. Fenner continued to ejaculate, Jim sucking, slurping and swallowing until he'd taken everything the boy had to give. Satisfied that he'd swallowed every delicious drop, Jim let him go, sitting up and licking his lips.

"That was the hors d'oeuvres," he commented. "Now for the main course."

He stood up, placing a pillow in the middle of the bed.

"Lie down on your tummy," he ordered.

Fenner looked at him pleadingly, searching for a sign that the man might let him off. Jim's eyelids didn't even flicker. The boy did as he'd been asked, more or less resigned to his fate. Jim pulled Fenner's legs apart. He knelt between the boy's calves, squeezing more KY onto his fingers. He reached forwards, reinserting his index finger in Fenner's anus. He pushed it in deep, touching the boy's prostate. There was no reaction, hardly surprising as the lad had ejaculated less than a minute earlier. He pushed in a second finger. Fenner winced; he was very tight.

"If you're going to go around fucking little boys," Jim told him. "You ought to know how it feels to be on the receiving end.

Fenner didn't respond. Jim worked his fingers around, taking time to loosen the boy's sphincter; he wasn't going to hurt the lad more than necessary. It would hurt him though; being well into puberty, his sphincter was less easily stretched than a younger boy's would have been. Finally he was done. He withdrew his fingers then smeared a little KY over his penis. He lowered himself into position. Fenner squirmed away.

"Stop that!" Jim said sharply, smacking the boy firmly on the buttocks. "You'll only make it worse. Now lie still and relax."

He tried again. This time Fenner stayed where he was, allowing Jim's penis to home in on its target. He pushed hard, forcing it through Fenner's sphincter.

"Aaarrrggghhh!!!!" Fenner exploded.

Jim grabbed the lad's briefs and stuffed them into his mouth.

"A little trick I believe you're familiar with," he said quietly. "Not new of course; we were using it when I was at school. Now just relax; the more you fight it, the worse it is."

He continued to push, burying his penis deeper and deeper in Fenner's rectum until he was fully inside, his pubic hair pressed tight against Fenner's bottom. He began fucking the boy with long, powerful thrusts. Quite deliberately, he kept the pace slow. It wasn't something he often did, but he was determined not to let Fenner off lightly. This wouldn't be an 'all over in five minutes' fuck, which was usually the most that boys of Fenner's age could handle; at this pace he could keep going for half an hour if he wanted to.

Fenner lay pinned to the bed, sinking his teeth into the cotton underpants, trying somehow to blot out the searing, excruciating pain as the man's large penis thrust relentlessly into him. Several minutes passed; the man hadn't missed a beat. Suddenly he became aware that although he'd ejaculated just a short time earlier, his penis was stiffening again. Within a few seconds, it was as hard as a rock. He tried desperately to will his erection away; it didn't work. On the contrary, his penis was beginning to tingle. He knew what was going to happen; if the man kept this up, he was going to ejaculate. He hoped against hope that the man would finish so he could get away, wank off in the bogs where nobody could see him, but there was no sign of that happening.

He started to panic. It would be bad enough if the other boys found out he'd been fucked, as they almost inevitably would; if they found out he'd spunked while the man had his penis inside him, they'd make his life a misery. Boys who had orgasms while being fucked were queers, bum-boys; that's what he'd always said. Like Richardson in his dorm, a kid he fucked when he'd nothing better to do; he shot his load every time. But he wasn't like that; he couldn't be! But in spite of his protestations, the tingling sensations were becoming ever more intense. He bucked wildly, his body convulsed by violent muscle spasms, his balls churning into action. A moment later, semen surged through his penis, squirting powerfully onto the pillow.

"See!! Jim growled triumphantly, "It can't have been that bad! You've cum!"

He ploughed on, fucking the lad harder with every thrust. Fenner was wonderfully tight, just as he'd expected, almost as good a fuck as Jocelyn had been. Within a minute, Jim felt his orgasm begin.

"Oh yes!" he gasped. "you know what's going to happen now, don't you? I'm going to fill you with my spunk! Nnnnnggg!!!"

He gripped Fenner's upper arms as his semen spurted repeatedly into the boy. He took his time, lying right on top of the lad until his breathing began to ease. He pulled out rather less carefully than usual, causing Fenner to wince again. He leaned forwards, his mouth by Fenner's ear. The boy was sobbing, tears running down his face.

"Now maybe you understand what it's like for those little boys you fuck!" he growled.

He stood up.

"Get dressed!" he ordered.

Fenner moved gingerly off the bed, putting on his clothes without even looking at him. The lad was obviously very sore, though not as sore as Laurence Beech would have been if Jim had gone along with Lewis-Marshall's suggestion. Jim marched the boy onto the corridor.

"You know where the toilet is," he snapped, directing the boy inside.

Sitting on the toilet, Fenner was seething. It was all Lewis-Marshall's fault. If they'd brought Dornham across like Mr. Kirby had told them to, this would have never happened. The Hartswood master would never have turned him down; Dornham was a year older than Beech, taller, very nice looking and had a permanent hard-on; that always worked! But Lewis-Marshall had insisted that they should take Beech instead, only because the kid was a little wimp and cried like a baby when he'd fucked him. That was the thing with Lewis-Marshall; he liked hurting them.

He'd gone along with it to keep him happy, holding Beech still while he did it, even competed with him to show the younger kids how horrible he could be. Even the political stuff he'd gone in for was a big act, put on for the benefit of the younger kids. He didn't really believe it; he didn't even know any black people. Well he wasn't going to do it any more, any of it. He'd backed Lewis-Marshall all the way, but when he'd needed some support in return, he'd been left to fend for himself. Bastard! He didn't give a shit about anyone else! Well he could fuck off!!

Jim waited on the corridor. More than five minutes later Fenner emerged. Jim escorted him to the dorm; the boy hardly able to walk. He ushered him inside and looked around. All was quiet, everyone seemingly asleep, even Lewis-Marshall. But there was something odd, something not right; he could sense it, but didn't know what it was. He shook his head; it wasn't important. He turned back onto the corridor, closing the door behind him. Sounds of quiet conversation were coming from the other dorm. He thought briefly about going in to collect McKenzie, but it was too soon for that; he needed a rest and a shower first. He returned to the bedroom, flopping down in the armchair. Taking the copy of 'Catcher in the Rye' from his bag, he began to read.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Left alone in the dorm, Lewis-Marshall was at something of a loose end. He'd been totally surprised by the turn of events; he was sure that none of Mr. Kirby's usual friends would have turned Beech down. Still, he mused, it wouldn't do Fenner any harm to find out what it felt like to have a big cock up his arse; he'd always wangled his way out of it before. He'd hoped that Mr. Kirby would have brought Brown back by this point, but he hadn't. There wasn't much he could do about that; he'd just have to wait. None of the other Hartswood boys interested him that much. He'd fucked them all and they'd taken it without a problem, especially that slut McIntyre. He was even worse than Stallard; couldn't get enough of it!

With nothing much to keep him busy, tiredness suddenly overtook him. He stripped down to his underpants and climbed into bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Chris shook himself awake. He looked around. It seemed like everyone was asleep. In particular, McKenzie was back in his own bed and on his own. It was time to make a move. He slipped out of bed and moved silently across the dorm, sitting down next to the long-haired boy. He was about to rouse him when the door opened. It was Lee. The stockily built lad came straight to him.

"What do you want?" Chris asked, irritated by the interruption.

"I need to talk to you and Mark," Lee whispered.

"What about?" Chris questioned.

"What's being going on in there!" Lee hissed.

"You'd better wake him up then," Chris told him.

Lee wakened the sleeping Mark who came to join them.

"Last night, as soon as their bloke left us, Lewis-Marshall put a torch on, got out of bed and got in with Kingsley. Fenner went across to Gavin; the other two sort of stood guard. Anyway, Lewis-Marshall just flipped Kinglsey over, stuck a bit of Vaseline up his bum and started fucking him; no build up, nothing. He was really rough, man! Kingsley screamed when he stuck it in him. Lewis-Marshall stuffed his underpants in his mouth and told him to shut up, called him a slut, everything! It was bad, man! After he'd finished, the other three did him, one after the other; I think they really hurt him."

"So then what happened?" Chris asked.

"Well, they left him alone for a bit after that," Lee continued, "moved onto me and Daniel, but you don't have to worry about us; we've both taken bigger ones than they've got. Anyway, things quietened down for a while then Lewis-Marshall started talking about having some more fun with Kingsley, but just then their bloke came in, took Kingsley back to his apartment and left Darren with us.

"So where's Kingsley now?" Mark asked.

"Still there," Lee told him.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Mark demanded.

"I couldn't man!" Lee protested. "They work as a team; I wouldn't have stood a chance. The other three wouldn't have been much help; they're too small."

"I'm going to sort this out," Mark said, clearly very angry.

"Go and get Cliff," Chris said. "If we're going in there we'll need all the muscle we've got."

Moments later, Clifford was sitting on the floor by McKenzie's bed. Lee ran through it again.

"It's nothing unusual," Mckenzie said, stretching and yawning. "It's what they always do. Lewis-Marshall's an animal, always going on about how his great grandfather used to fuck the stable boys, like he's proud of it."

"Yeah?" Mark sneered. "Well I'm gonna beat the shit out of him!"

"I haven't finished yet!" Lee protested. "You haven't heard the best bit. About twenty minutes ago, I heard voices on the corridor. It was Jimmy and Lewis-Marshall. Lewis-Marshall was saying something about having brought him a present. Well it turned out it was a younger kid. Jimmy told Lewis-Marshall to take him back."

"Who's Jimmy? McKenzie enquired.

"Mr. Cooper, our rugby master," Chris said quietly. "It's what we call him when he's not around."

"Well, Lewis-Marshall said something about them all going to Jimmy's bedroom," Lee continued. "Jimmy just repeated what he'd said before. The next thing I know, he shoved Fenner into the dorm; told him to sit on the bed. He sounded really angry. Anyway, a few minutes later he came back in with Lewis-Marshall, sat down and gave them a right earful! Asked them if they liked scaring little boys, then he said that the kid they'd brought was too young, but Fenner wasn't, said something about liking tall, slim boys and told Fenner to go with him! Fenner nearly crapped himself! It was brilliant! He was twittering on about he'd never taken it before. Well, Jimmy wasn't having it and Lewis-Marshall never said a word, so Jimmy took Fenner away with him!"

"So Fenner's not there now?" Chris queried.

"No," Lee insisted. "That was only about five minutes ago. I bet Jimmy's giving him a right seeing-to!"

"How did Fenner manage to avoid, you know?" Chris asked, turning to McKenzie.

"Well, there aren't many second years that get done, only the really cute ones, and he wasn't. He would have got done when we were in third year, but his brother was rugby captain and told everybody they weren't to touch him. He might have got done last year when we had stop-overs like this, but he was already pretty big and the rugby captain was a family friend, so he managed to wangle his way into the top dorm. And he doesn't play cricket, so he wasn't involved in the summer."

"So what about Lewis-Marshall?" Chris asked.

"After Jimmy left, he just stripped off and got into bed," Lee said. "He's fast asleep; they all are. That's how I managed to get out."

"Let's go," Mark said, eager to get on with it.

They stood up.

"I've got a better idea," Chris said, running his hand over the front of his briefs.

"You mean . . . ?" Mark queried.

"Give him a taste of his own medicine," Clifford said.

"Yeah," Chris confirmed. "Okay?"

The other two nodded.

"You do him first," Chris said, addressing himself to Mark. "It's your fight; Cliff and I will follow you."

"You aren't supposed to fuck the opposition captain," McKenzie warned. "It's against the rules."

"Then he's going to get a surprise, isn't he?" Chris responded.

"Yeah," McKenzie agreed, grinning.

Lee led the way to the other dorm. He opened the door as quietly as he could, peering inside. Everything was as he'd left it. They silently trooped across to Lewis-Marshall's bed, Chris, Mark and Clifford setting themselves for the assault. Chris gave the signal. They ripped the covers off. Chris grabbed Lewis-Marshall's shoulders, forcing him over onto his chest and pressing him tight against the bed. Clifford grabbed the boy's ankles, turning him completely onto his tummy. Mark dragged his underpants down then held him behind the knees, allowing Clifford to complete the job of pulling them off. Mark forced Lewis-Marshall's legs apart, positioning himself between them. Clifford moved around, coating his index finger with KY then forcing it unceremoniously into Lewis-Marshall's anus.

Lewis-Marshall squirmed, trying to escape from his attackers, but before he could move, a hand was on the back of his neck.

"Don't struggle or we will hurt you!" Chris growled.

Lewis-Marshall submitted; there was no other choice. Mark lowered himself into position. A moment later his penis was spearing into Lewis-Marshall's anus. The boy gasped in pain. Clifford handed the lad's underpants to Chris, who stuffed them into Lewis-Marshall's mouth.

"See how you like it!" he snarled.

"This is for Kingsley," Mark hissed into Lewis-Marshall's ear, fucking him unmercifully. "Kingsley's my friend and you treated him like shit, you arsehole!"

Gavin started awake, disturbed by the commotion. He leapt out of bed, hurrying to join the others.

"Stand over by the door!" Clifford ordered. "Tell us if there's anyone coming."

Mark and Chris were well in control of things. Lee motioned to Clifford, indicating the bed where Thornton was apparently still sleeping. They moved across. Lee removed his underpants. Though only just over five feet tall, he was surprisingly well developed, his penis having grown in the space of a year from a slim two and a half inches to a fairly thick five inches plus.

Another set of bed covers was quickly snatched away. Lee jumped on the freckle-faced boy, grabbing his thighs and forcing him onto his tummy while Clifford held the lad's shoulder blades, the situation simplified by the fact that Thornton was already naked. Lee grinned. They'd left the KY by the other bed, not that it mattered; they didn't have a spare hand to apply it with. He got down into position, his penis probing Thornton's back entrance. Desperately, Thornton tried to struggle free, but it was an uneven contest, Lee's muscular physique more than a match for his far slimmer one, the fair haired boy's penis forcing its way into his rectum.

He cried out in pain, feeling as though his sphincter was being ripped in two. Stark sat up in alarm, blinking several times as he tried to make sense of what was happening on the adjacent bed. Clifford turned towards him his fist clenched, daring the boy to interfere. Stark could hardly believe what he was seeing. Sheldon, the opposition hooker who hadn't caused a moment's problem all night, was lying on top of his best friend, fucking him senseless! Tears were streaming down Thornton's cheeks. Worse still, on the far side of the room, Burgess, who should have been next door, was down on top of Lewis-Marshall, pounding relentlessly into their captain's anus.

Gavin ran across to join them. Clifford almost told him to get back by the door, but decided not to, reasoning that if the opposition rugby master showed up they'd be in trouble whether Gavin warned them or not. Gavin dropped his gym shorts, pushing his erect penis towards Stark's face.

"Suck it!!" he demanded.

Stark baulked; sucking a slut like McIntyre would be the ultimate indignity.

"He told you to suck it," Clifford said, raising his fist.

Stark complied; he was no fighter. Gavin grabbed Stark's head, forcing his penis aggressively into the boy's mouth. It didn't take long; it never did, Gavin's watery boy-cum spurting into Stark's mouth in three little jets.

"Swallow it!" Gavin said.

Stark didn't move. Gavin gave a final thrust; Stark gulped the watery fluid down. Gavin stepped back, pulling up his shorts. Stark looked around. Thornton was still being fucked by Sheldon, but Rowe and Burgess had swapped places, the fair haired boy who'd been fucking Lewis-Marshall now standing next to him. He checked again.

"Where's Fenner?" he asked.

"Entertaining our rugby master," Mark told him. "Mr. Cooper likes tall slim boys, doesn't he Gav?"

Gavin grinned and nodded.

"Fenner's a virgin," Stark told them, a note of alarm in his voice.

"Not any more he isn't," Mark said dismissively.

Stark was panic stricken.

"You've got off lightly," Mark told him. "Lee said you weren't as bad as the others or we'd have fucked you too. In case you're wondering, this is about Kingsley, Brown as you call him. Kingsley's my special friend. You arseholes treated him like shit!"

"Yeah!" Gavin snapped. "I'm a slut; I don't care what you do to me, but Kingsley isn't; you had no right to treat him like that!"

Gavin stepped to one side, leaving Stark to watch in horror as Sheldon reached his climax, shuddering from head to toe, his disproportionately large penis delivering his semen into Thornton's bottom. Stark sank back onto his bed and burst into tears.

On the far side of the room, Clifford was getting close. He made one last effort, fucking Lewis-Marshall even harder. Suddenly everything began to shake, the room dissolving in front of him in a cascade of colour. He held on tight as his cum spurted deep into the bully's rectum. The task completed, he sank down onto Lewis-Marshall's back, totally spent.

Chris pulled off his underpants, pushing his thick six and a half inch penis close to Lewis-Marshall's face, making sure the boy could see it. With Mark ensuring that Lewis-Marshall couldn't escape. Chris moved into Clifford's place, noticing that Lewis-Marshall's anus was already bruised and chafed. It was of no concern. He settled his penis onto the boy's sphincter. He was invariably gentle at this point, concerned to achieve penetration while inflicting the minimum of discomfort on his partner. Lewis-Marshall, however, was deserving of no such consideration. Chris pushed as hard as he could, his penis thrusting deep into Lewis-Marshall's bottom.

Lewis-Marshall's head jerked back. He emitted a stifled scream, his underpants still firmly in his mouth. His sphincter had been stretched to twice its previous size, the pain so severe he almost lost consciousness. Chris fucked him ferociously, but having already ejaculated three times that night, it was never going to be quick. Five minutes passed, then ten. He ploughed on relentlessly. Suddenly his breathing shortened, his body gripped by powerful muscle-spasms. He thrust in one final time, his jerking penis depositing a third load of semen in Lewis-Marshall's rectum. After several seconds he abruptly withdrew.

"We beat you on the pitch," he growled in Lewis-Marshall's ear. "Now we've beaten you off it."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Watching from the door, McKenzie allowed himself a smile. He'd been the unwilling recipient of Lewis-Marshall's attentions on more than one occasion; the bully had finally received his just deserts. He scurried back to the other dorm, not wanting the Hartswood boys to know he'd been spying on them. A couple of minutes later the four Hartswood lads re-appeared, accompanied by a fifth, the skinny, freckle-faced boy who'd made monkeys out of them during the previous day's tournament.

The three main protagonists seemed strangely subdued, each collapsing onto a different bed. McKenzie went and sat next to Chris was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "You did great. Sorry, but I was watching from outside the door."

"We shouldn't have done it," Chris said disconsolately. "We sank to his level; that's not right. We should have dragged him out of bed then let him and Mark fight it out, one on one."

"Don't think that," McKenzie said gently, getting onto the bed and snuggling up close. "He's raped me a couple of times; as far as I'm concerned, someone should have done that ages ago." He paused for a moment. "Lee seems okay with it."

"Yeah, well Thornton fucked me a couple of times, so I gave him one back," Lee commented from the next bed. "That's fair, isn't it?"

"Except you never used any lube," Clifford reminded him.

"Man! That's bad!" Olly Sherwood commented. "He's not going to be able to walk!"

A collective giggling fit swept across the room; even Chris joined in, snuggling closer to McKenzie.

"Serves him right for hanging out with that pair of arseholes," Blake said, in a very matter of fact tone. "Thornton's as thick as they come."

"Someone's coming!" Jocelyn hissed.

Gavin ran to the door, opening it slightly.

"It's Jimmy!" he breathed. "He's just sent Fenner into the bogs!"

"What was Fenner looking like?" McKenzie asked.

"Didn't seem to be walking too well," Gavin said.

"Not surprising if he's just had Jimmy's donger up his arse," Lee observed.

"Wouldn't bother me!" Gavin said, grinning.

"Yeah, but you're a slut!" Mark said, grinning.

"I thought I was the slut round here!" Stallard protested.

"Yeah, well you've got some competition tonight, hasn't he Gav?" Chris said jokingly. "How many times did that lot get it up your arse?"

"Dunno," Gavin admitted, "I wasn't counting."

He eased the door open again.

"Jimmy's just taken Fenner back to the dorm," he said quietly. "He looks rough, man!"

"So what's Jimmy doing?" Chris asked.

"Looks like he's going back to his bedroom," Gavin said. "Fenner must have worn him out!"

"He'll be back," Chris whispered to McKenzie. "He was looking for you earlier on, but you and Alex were in the middle of something."

"So does he go with all of you?" McKenzie asked.

"Oh no," Chris said. "He only goes with boys who are really, you know, looking for it. Darren's his boy at the moment. I think he's probably doing it with Gavin too, but Gav goes with anybody. That's it as far as I know. Sorry; I never asked you your name. "

"Robin," McKenzie told him, snuggling in as close as he could. "Mr. Kirby goes with Fielding mainly, but he's had almost all of us at one time or another."

"Hi Robin," Chris said, giving the boy a big smile.

He lay back, his head still in a whirl. One part of his brain was telling him to make a move on his new friend, who seemed more than willing, but he just couldn't do it. It wasn't just fatigue, although he was desperately tired; he was still very confused about what they'd done to Lewis-Marshall.

"Someone's coming again!" Jocelyn warned.

"Are you sure they're not just changing hands?" Lee quipped.

"Shut up, smart arse!" Mark told him.

Gavin hurried to the door, opening it a crack.

"It's Kirby!" he breathed. "He's bringing Kingsley back!"

Everything went quiet.

"He's gone into the other dorm!" Gavin breathed.

They waited, keeping completely silent.

"Heading this way!" Gavin announced, retreating smartly from the door and diving into the only vacant bed.

The man opened the door and looked around, finally settling on Gavin. With his skinny frame, unruly hair and a face smothered in freckles he certainly wasn't pretty, but with his sparkling blue eyes and infectious grin he had a cuteness all his own. He walked across to him.

"Would you like to come to my apartment?" he asked quietly.

Gavin got out of bed grinning from ear to ear; he was looking forward to this!

"See you, lads!" he said brightly as they headed onto the corridor.

For a few seconds, everything was quiet.

"Has he gone now?" Mark asked.

"I can't see him," Jocelyn said, opening the door slightly.

"Lee," Mark said. "Will you go next door and bring Kingsley in here please?"

"Why me?" Lee queried.

"Because you're supposed to be in there; I'm not," Mark told him.

"Oh, okay then," Lee agreed.

He swung himself off the bed and trotted out of the room. A couple of minutes later he was back, accompanied by a bewildered-looking Kingsley. Mark stood up, taking his younger friend into his arms, the two boys embracing in an affectionate hug.

"That's so sweet!" Robin whispered into Chris's ear. "They really love each other, don't they?"

"Mark thinks the world of Kingsley," Chris said quietly. "It's not just sex; Kingsley's always there for him, encouraging him, telling him how good he is. It does help; I know 'cause Daniel's the same with me. When I'm doing prep and I'm tired, I think about Daniel. It makes me try a little bit harder 'cause I don't want to let him down."

"That's cool," Robin said, grinning. "I wish it was like that here."

He looked up. Two beds across, Mark and Kingsley, both as naked as jaybirds, were kissing passionately. Robin smiled, running his hand over Chris's chest and smooth flat tummy. Quite spontaneously the other boys began to pair off, Alex with Blake, Clifford with Jocelyn, Evan with Oliver and Lee with Rhys. Robin looked across at Chris. The Hartswood captain was very good looking, fit and strong, and despite the way he'd treated Lewis-Marshall, he was as gentle as a lamb.

Robin pushed his fingers into the waistband of Chris's briefs, Chris lifting his hips to help him ease them down. He admired the taller boy's flaccid penis, circumcised like his own, but thicker and surmounted by a more than respectable crop of pubic hair. He wrapped his fingers around it, urging it into life. He leaned forwards and took it into his mouth. He sucked it eagerly, thrusting his nose into Chris's pubes, his long hair brushing over his new friend's tummy. Sliding his lips back to just behind the crown, he worked his tongue over the large purple head before plunging back down again, his long slim fingers caressing Chris's balls and tickling his perineum.

Once more fully erect, Chris stroked Robin's silky long hair, quite unable to remember when he'd been sucked as well as this. Suddenly Robin stopped, looking up at him.

"Do you want to fuck me?" he mouthed, pulling off his underpants.

"Nah," Chris said a little sadly, shaking his head. "Sorry, it's just . . . , you know."

Instinctively Robin did know; Chris was a decent kid, too decent maybe, still concerned about what they'd done to that animal Lewis-Marshall. He took Chris's penis back into his mouth, sucking it even more hungrily. Chris moaned quietly, transported to a planet of sensuous delights by Robin's sucking lips and the wonderful ministrations of the boy's tongue.

"Man!" he gasped. "I'm gonna cum!"

Robin continued to suck as Chris's penis swelled and jerked, warm, creamy semen spurting into his mouth. He swallowed it eagerly, working his tongue over the head of Chris's penis to make sure that he'd taken every drop. Finally he pulled away, smiling and licking his lips.

"You taste great!" he whispered.

"Man! That was amazing!" Chris said, still breathing quite heavily. "I'd forgotten how good that can be!" He paused for a moment. "I want yours now!" he added, giving Robin a big smile.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"Come on! Kneel across my chest!" he instructed.

Robin looked around nervously. None of the other boys was paying them any attention, all too absorbed in their own activities. He moved into position, crawling forwards until his penis was brushing Chris's lips. He pushed it in. Chris ran his hands up the back of Robin's thighs, holding the boy just below his bottom. Robin pumped his hips, fucking Chris's mouth. Chris licked and slurped, taking Robin's penis fully inside. Suddenly Robin's muscles went tight. He grabbed Chris's head, unloading his creamy boy-nectar onto the taller boy's tongue. Finally spent, he eased himself away, sitting back on the Hartswood captain's tummy.

"Beautiful!" Chris breathed, smiling broadly.

They snuggled up again, their hands firmly clasped. After the anger and aggression of the previous hour, Chris was at peace again. In a way he couldn't explain, he felt closer to Robin than he ever had to anyone. He was very close to Mark, who had been his best friend for nearly five years; they'd done everything together. He was close to Daniel too, who'd been his younger friend for the past eighteen months. But they, it seemed, were on the outside looking in. His connection with Robin was quite different, as though the boy was right there inside his head, thinking the same thoughts and experiencing the same feelings.

Chris's one regret was that in just a few short hours they'd say goodbye and probably never see each other again. Jocelyn was one of the most beautiful boys he'd ever seen, and sex with him had been out of this world, but when they drove away from Fraylsham Park, the boy who would remain longest in his memory would be Robin. He couldn't explain it; that was just how it was.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Tristan was bemused. On the two previous stop-overs, Lewis-Marshall and his cronies had spent the entire night fucking like rabbits. On this occasion they were all apparently asleep by four in the morning. Stranger still was that two of the visiting boys who were supposed to be in their dorm had wandered into the other one; that had never happened before. He opened the door to his apartment, directing Gavin into the bedroom. They sat down on the bed.

"Well, McIntyre," Tristan said imperiously. "How's your night been?"

"Okay, thanks," Gavin said, sounding non-committal.

"Lewis-Marshall and his friends weren't too rough with you?" Tristan queried.

"Nah," Gavin said, his blue eyes boring right into the man. "They were with Kingsley, but I like it like that."

"Really?" Tristan said, quickly becoming aroused.

"Yeah!" Gavin responded, giving him a cheeky grin. "I mean, they haven't got big ones, have they? Thornton's the biggest and he's not that big."

"So has your, er, older friend got a big one?" Tristan asked, his penis hardening rapidly.

"Haven't got an older friend this year," Gavin replied casually. "I did last year and the year before that; they both had big ones."

"They were both in the rugby team, I take it?" Tristan enquired.

"Yeah," Gavin confirmed, "big boys, played in the second row."

"So what d'you do this year?" Tristan probed, "now that you haven't got 'an older friend'?"

"Hang out in the toilets by the science lab," Gavin responded nonchalantly. "Chris has told me I'm not supposed to, but he doesn't mind really 'cause three of his mates who haven't got 'younger friends' like to . . . , you know."

"Why Chris?" Tristan asked. "That's Barnett, I assume?"

"Yeah," Gavin said. "He's sort of 'in charge', you know of who's going with who."

"Oh, I see," Tristan said, struggling to understand the way things operated at Hartswood. "I was surprised to find that you'd gone into the other dorm," he added, changing the subject."

"Yeah, well everyone else had gone to sleep," Gavin explained, "so Lee and I decided to go next door, see what was happening."

That was odd too, Tristan reflected; although most of the boys had been awake, there'd been virtually nothing going on in there either. McKenzie had been snuggled up with Barnett, the Hartswood captain; that was it. There was more to this than McIntyre was telling him, he decided. He was very curious, but McIntyre wasn't polite and respectful like the other Hartswood boys he'd met; he hadn't used the word 'sir' once. The lad had a certain insouciance about him; short of resorting to the use of rack and thumbscrews, he couldn't think of any way he was going to prise the story out of him. One of the others, he guessed, would be more forthcoming.

"I thought you played very well yesterday," Tristan said seductively. "You made my boys look like cart horses."

"I've never played sevens before," Gavin told him. "I love it! I don't even play in the regular team; Mr. Cooper dropped me after the first match."

"Really?" Tristan queried, wondering why Jim was leaving out a boy with such obvious talent. "Why was that?"

"Oh, I kept giving penalties away," Gavin told him. "The other team scored off most of them."

"Penalties?" Tristan demanded. "What for?"

"Oh, running offside, going into rucks on the wrong side, you know," Gavin explained. "The thing is; I get so excited I keep forgetting where I'm supposed to be. I'm always in trouble in class, you know, for getting out of my seat and that. I don't mean to; suddenly the teacher shouts at me and I'm halfway across the room and I don't even know how I got there."

"Hmmm!" Tristan said, reaching across to stroke Gavin's thighs. "So you're a naughty boy then?"

"That's what most of the masters say," Gavin said, shrugging.

"And you like big cocks?" Tristan asked, deciding it was time to move things on.

"Yeah!" Gavin said, grinning up at him.

"Do you usually wear gym shorts in bed?" Tristan probed.

"Sometimes," Gavin responded, shrugging again.

"So why tonight?" Tristan persisted.

"I thought they might fuck me in them," Gavin said casually.

"And did they?" Tristan enquired, somewhat taken aback.

"Nah, they wanted me naked," Gavin said, giving him a wry grin.

"So do the boys at school fuck you like that?" Tristan asked breathlessly.

"Some of them do," Gavin said. "There's this boy in my dorm, Francis. He's only about the same size as me, but he's got a big cock, about like Thornton's. He does me like that; we love it!"

"What about Mr. Cooper?" Tristan continued.

"Oh he does," Gavin said, giving Tristan the most mischievous grin he'd ever seen. "We do it in his office. He has me bent over the desk; gets his cock up the leg of my shorts and fucks me stupid!"

"And you like that don't you?" Tristan growled, his fingers inching up inside Gavin's shorts.

"Yeah!" Gavin said, his blue eyes looking brighter than ever.

"So why don't you find out what I've got for you?" Tristan suggested.

Gavin reached across, undoing Tristan's tennis shorts and extracting his penis.

"Nice!" he breathed, rubbing his fingers over it, "about like Mr. Cooper's."

"I know," Tristan said conspiratorially. "Mr. Cooper and I were at school together."

"So where are you going to have me, sir?" Gavin asked, the first time he'd addressed Tristan as 'sir'.

"Here, on your tummy," Tristan informed him, pulling the bed covers back.

Without waiting for further instruction, Gavin lay face down on the bed.

"Spread your legs," Tristan ordered.

Gavin did as he was asked. Tristan worked his fingers inside the leg of Gavin's shorts, probing the boy's anus. He slipped inside.

"I can see you've been fucked a few times tonight!" he commented.

"Yeah," Gavin responded. "Stark was the last, about an hour ago. He fucked me up the bum while I sucked Thornton off."

"I'd love to have seen that!" Tristan breathed.

"Mr. Cooper did," Gavin said, showing not a trace of embarrassment. "He walked in on us."

Tristan moved into position, working his penis up the leg of Gavin's shorts. At first they seemed too tight, making it difficult for Tristan to locate his target. Gavin pushed his hands down onto his bottom and under the waistband then crawled a few inches up the bed, causing the shorts to sit lower on his hips. The problem was solved. Tristan's penis homed in on the boy's sphincter. With one determined thrust he pushed it right in.

"Ohhhh! Gavin moaned. "Oh yeah!"

Tristan began to fuck, spurred on by Gavin's moans and whimpers. It was just like Jim had always said; the great thing about skinny kids was that they were always beautifully tight, no matter how often they'd taken it. Gavin quickly joined in the action, pushing his hips up to meet each downward thrust.

"You're a little slut, aren't you McIntyre?" Tristan growled.

"Yes sir!" Gavin conceded.

"And you love having my cock up your bum, don't you?!" the man continued.

"Oh, yes sir!" the boy gurgled, hardly knowing where he was.

Suddenly Gavin shuddered, little jets of boy-juice squirting into his shorts. Tristan redoubled his efforts.

"Oh, you naughty boy!" he gasped. "That was what you wanted, wasn't it? Well now I'm going to give you what I want!"

He plunged his full length into Gavin's rectum, his thick, creamy semen unloading repeatedly into the boy's bottom. After several seconds he pulled out. To his surprise, Gavin immediately got up onto his knees and climbed off the bed.

"Thanks sir!" he said brightly. That was great! Is it okay if I get back now?"

Tristan let him out of the apartment, watching as the boy headed off along the corridor, a tell-tale stain growing in the back of his shorts. School slut he might be, but lively and so engaging, a far more appealing prospect than the totally passive Stallard; definitely a boy he would have liked to know better. He closed the door and wandered back to bed feeling completely spent. Maybe if they'd been going at it like that since quarter past ten the previous evening, he reasoned, it wasn't too surprising that Lewis-Marshall and his gang had all fallen asleep. Though it was a possibility, he knew deep down it wasn't the real reason.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As they lay snuggled up together, Clifford ran his hands over Jocelyn's back. He felt like the cat that had swallowed the cream, even though he knew that Mr. Cooper and three of his team-mates had been there before him. He'd never considered the possibility of going with a boy who was cuter than Tommy, his younger friend at Hartswood, but here he was, with the most stunning kid he'd ever seen. It was the greatest feeling in the whole world! He slid his finger along Jocelyn's crack, quickly locating the boy's pucker. Jocelyn squirmed, pulling away from him.

"Is it okay if we don't fuck?" he whispered. "I'm a bit sore."

"Yeah, that's cool," Clifford acknowledged.

Jocelyn snaked around, taking Clifford's penis into his mouth, sucking it eagerly. Clifford lay back, stroking Jocelyn's hair, savouring the wonderful sensations the boy was giving him. He felt his orgasm begin to build.

"Uhhh! Uhhh!" he warned, "I'm gonna cum!"

He expected Jocelyn to pull away; instead, the lad sucked him even harder, the boy's nose pushing right into his sparse pubic hair.

"Ohhhhh!" Clifford gasped, his boy-cream spurting powerfully into the younger boy's mouth.

Jocelyn sat up, licking his lips, having clearly swallowed every drop. The two boys snuggled up again, their mouths meeting in a sensuous kiss.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim put the book back into his bag, picked up a towel and strode onto the corridor, heading for the showers. To his surprise, there was a boy there that he hadn't seen before, dressed in a red tee-shirt and tight white gym shorts.

"Hello, sir!" the boy said, smiling. "Are you Mr. Cooper?"

"Yes," Jim replied. "And you are?"

"Dornham, sir," the boy told him.

"First name?" Jim queried.

"Andrew, sir."

"And how old are you, Andrew?"

"Eleven, sir."

"So what are you doing here at this time?" Jim enquired.

"Well sir," Andrew responded. "Lewis-Marshall was supposed to bring me here over an hour ago, but he never turned up, so I decided to see if I could find you myself."

"You've shown commendable initiative," Jim said, eyeing the lad up.

The boy was slim without being skinny, with collar length fair, wavy hair, hazel eyes and very full lips; pretty much on a par with Jocelyn in the cuteness stakes. He was very obviously keen too, his shorts covering a very obvious erection.

"You'd better come in," he said, deciding that the shower could wait. "Actually, Fenner and Lewis-Marshall brought me someone else, a boy called Laurence Beech."

Andrew's face fell. "So you went with Beech, sir?" he asked.

"No," Jim said, smiling. "I told Lewis-Marshall to take him back."

"Oh," Andrew said. "So I suppose you went and got one of the other rugby boys from the bottom dorm," he suggested.

"No, I didn't actually," Jim told him, sitting down on the bed. "I took Fenner instead. I do quite like tall, slim boys."

"Really, sir?" Andrew said, flopping down next to him, his eyes widening. "Everyone says that Fenner's never . . . , you know."

"Yes, that's what he told me," Jim said, putting his arm around the boy's shoulder, 'but as I said to him, if he wants to go around fucking little boys, he ought to know what it feels like to be on the receiving end. I can't say he seemed too keen on the idea."

"That's funny sir!" Andrew said, giggling. He turned around sharply. "Is this where you did it, sir?" he asked.

"Yes," Jim confirmed. "Sorry the place is a bit of a mess; I was just going to get a shower when you caught me."

"Sir! There's spunk on the pillow! Is that . . . , you know?"

"Yes," Jim told him. "It has to be; the other two boys who've been here tonight are Matthew Fielding and Jocelyn Barr and they can't cum yet."

"That's brilliant sir!" Andrew said, his eyes sparkling.

"Oh?" Jim questioned. "Why's that?"

"Fenner's horrible sir," Andrew continued excitedly. "He always says that boys who do that are queers, bum-boys. But when you bummed him he did it too! Wait till the other boys find out!"

"Oh," Jim said, allowing himself a smile at the thought that Fenner's problems were only just beginning. "Fenner and Lewis-Marshall were very rough with one of my boys, a nice kid, a lot like you actually, so I decided to even the score up a little."

He ran his hand under Andrew's tee-shirt, gently massaging the boy's perfectly smooth chest. He eased the lad back onto the bed, bringing his head down to kiss his wonderfully full lips. Andrew's reaction was immediate, putting his arms around Jim's neck and pushing his tongue into the visiting master's mouth. Jim was fired up with lust. While Jocelyn had been gauche and innocent, Andrew was a total contrast, so knowing and experienced for a boy of such tender years. The lad was, he judged, a seductive and sophisticated slut.

Andrew was almost ecstatic; Jim far exceeding his expectations. He had a superb body, with not an ounce of surplus fat to be seen, and with his thick ash blond hair, blue eyes and well-chiselled features he was much better looking than Mr. Kirby or any of his games master's previous visitors, even better looking than his twenty two year old uncle who had seduced him a little under two years earlier. To make things even better, the man was kissing him quite exquisitely. He tweaked Jim's large, prominent nipples, running his hand over the man's well-defined pectorals and onto his washboard stomach. He moved his hand lower still, onto the front of Jim's shorts, running his eager fingers over the man's penis. Eventually their lips parted.

"Wow, sir!" Andrew said, eyes sparkling. "You're very good looking; I've not been with anyone as good looking as you before."

"Thank you," Jim said quietly. "That's high praise, coming from a boy as beautiful as you."

"I love the way you kiss me, sir," Andrew continued, looking a little embarrassed. "That's how my uncle does it. Nobody here kisses like that."

Very gently, Jim helped the boy remove his tee-shirt. His shorts proved more of a problem, so snug that removing them without snagging the lad's throbbing penis required that they be eased down a little at a time. But eventually the task was completed, the boy exposed in all his naked beauty. He was, Jim considered, as perfect a specimen as he'd ever encountered, not as tall as Jocelyn but a little more muscular, his penis a little larger, a little nozzle of foreskin projecting beyond the tip, his flawless skin bearing a slight tan, his wonderfully sculpted bottom a total delight.

Jim dipped his head, taking Andrew's throbbing penis fully into his mouth. He sucked it carefully, flicking out his tongue to slash at the lad's balls. He coated his fingers in KY, slipping his hand between the boy's legs and locating his anus. He pushed inside. Andrew emitted a satisfied sigh. The boy was used to being penetrated; there was no doubt about it.

"Are you going to bum me sir" Andrew asked. "You are, aren't you?"

"Do you like that?" Jim enquired, already sure of the answer.

"Oh yes!" Andrew whispered. "During the holidays my uncle bums me all the time; it's great!"

"What about Lewis-Marshall and his friends?" Jim asked. "Do they bum you?"

"Yeah, but they haven't a clue how to do it," Andrew said scornfully. "They're useless. I just let them get on with it."

"Well, I'd better make sure I do it properly then, hadn't I?" Jim cooed.

"Great!" Andrew said. "Will you take off your shorts and sit in the armchair for me?"

Jim complied readily, wondering what delights the boy had in store. Andrew knelt in front of him, holding his penis around the base.

"Beautiful cock, sir!" he breathed. "Just about the same as Mr. Kirby's"

He leaned forward, placing his lips over the large purple head. He began to suck, twisting his head this way and that, using his tongue quite wonderfully. Gradually, he inched his way down until he was nuzzling Jim's pubic hair, the man's penis right down his throat. Jim sank back in the chair, savouring the feelings the boy was giving him. Being sucked by the novice Jocelyn had been a delight, but Andrew's ministrations were in a different league entirely. The boy's technique was nothing short of astonishing, the sensations quite indescribable.

Just as Jim felt his orgasm approach, Andrew released his penis, a big smile on his face. The lad got to his feet and turned around. Before Jim could move, Andrew gripped the arms of the chair, lowering himself towards him. Jim could scarcely believe what he was seeing. He'd fucked boys in every position he could think of; this had never been one of them, it simply hadn't occurred to him. But it was about to happen, and most remarkable of all, it was the boy who was taking the lead.

Jim held his penis around the base as Andrew manoeuvred himself into position. Slowly and carefully the boy pushed down, Jim's penis disappearing inside him, until he was sitting right in the man's lap. Andrew settled himself, Jim's heart pounding against his spine, pulling up his knees to rest his feet on the small table directly in front of him.

"So how does that feel, sir?" he asked.

"Wonderful!" Jim whispered. "I've never done it like this before. What about you?"

"Great!" Andrew cooed. "I've got your cock right inside me. You're going to bum me now, aren't you sir?"

Jim set to work, pushing his buttocks down into his seat before thrusting powerfully back up again. He nuzzled Andrew's neck and licked his ears, the aroma of hot, sexy boy flooding his nostrils. He wrapped his left arm across the lad's chest, gently tweaking his tiny nipples, his right hand in Andrew's lap, fondling the boy's genitals.

"Oh sir!" Andrew moaned. "Oh yes!"

Jim redoubled his efforts, fucking the boy as hard as he knew how. Andrew bucked sharply, the boy's sphincter clamping tight around his thrusting penis, his hard little prong swelling and jerking between his fingers. Jim's orgasm followed in an instant. Instinctively he dropped his hands onto Andrew's thighs, holding the boy in position. His penis jerked powerfully, several ropes of thick creamy semen spurting into the lad's rectum.

They sat where they were for some time, gradually recovering from their exertions. Finally Andrew lifted himself clear, Jim's penis making its exit with a quite audible pop.

"So how was that, sir?" Andrew enquired.

"Unbelievable!" Jim responded, his breathing still very short. "And was that okay for you?"

"Oh yes, sir!" the boy said enthusiastically. "That was great, especially when your spunk went up me!"

Jim remained in the chair, too drained to move, while Andrew quickly pulled on his tee-shirt before shoe-horning himself into his shorts.

"I'd better get back to my dorm now, sir," he said quietly.

Jim eased Andrew towards him, their lips meeting in one final kiss. He let the boy out, watching from the doorway as the lad walked a little awkwardly along the corridor, turned the corner and disappeared from view.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After a little over half an hour's rest, Tristan was ready for a further foray. He strode back to Lewis-Marshall's dorm. Nothing had changed, except that Brown was no longer there. He'd quite obviously gone next door too, he concluded. It was quit clear that something must have happened and having no idea what that might have been was most exasperating. A thought occurred to him. There were only two Hartswood boys left in the room; Proctor, with whom he'd begun the night, and Palmer. He hadn't planned on taking Palmer back to his apartment, but the boy was cute enough. So he'd take him, and try a rather different interrogation technique. He roused the lad.

"Come with me please!" he said curtly.

Daniel got out of bed, slipping on his soccer shorts before following the man out of the room.

"Sorry," he said, smiling. "I don't like walking down the corridor just in my undies."

Tristan was unconcerned, knowing full well that the boy would lose both shorts and underpants before long. He guided the boy into his living room, directing him to sit on one of the armchairs.

"Right!" he said firmly. "Before we get down to things, I need you to tell me what's been going on."

Daniel bit his lip, squirming uncomfortably.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't waste time!" Tristan snapped. "I need to know, so tell me and tell me now."

"Well, I didn't see how it started," Daniel said, shrugging, "but when I woke up, Lee was bumming Thornton and Gavin had his dick in Stark's mouth, making him suck him off. Clifford was standing there making sure he did it."

"Lee is Sheldon and Gavin is McIntyre," Tristan recounted. "And Clifford is?"

"Rowe, sir," Daniel told him.

"Carry on!" Tristan ordered.

"When I looked over the other side of the room, Mark, that's Burgess, was bumming Lewis-Marshall. Chris, our captain was sort of holding him down, making sure he couldn't get away. Then after a bit, Mark and Clifford swapped places and in the finish Chris bummed Lewis-Marshall as well; looked like he really hurt him. Chris has got a big one; I know 'cause we do it together all the time."

"So where was Fenner while all this was going on?" Tristan demanded.

"Mark said he was 'entertaining our rugby master'." Daniel told him.

"Good god!" Tristan expostulated. "No wonder they're all so quiet!"

"Mark was angry with them for being so rough with Kingsley," Daniel explained.

"And so your lads dispensed summary justice!" Tristan declared. "Well, it sounds like game, set and match to me! Not content with beating us on the rugby pitch, you've trounced us in the dormitories! I think I ought to put up the white flag before we suffer any more punishment!"

"Aren't you cross, sir?" Daniel asked nervously.

"Those who live by the sword will perish by the sword," Tristan declared, "and Fenner and Lewis-Marshall certainly do that; they'll get no sympathy from me!"

"Thanks, sir," Daniel said, giving the man a wry grin.

"And thank you for being so honest with me," Tristan said, smiling. "Now why d'you think I brought you here?"

"Because you want to bum me," Daniel responded.

"Precisely!" Tristan confirmed. "Come on then!"

He ushered Daniel into the bedroom.

"Sir," Daniel asked. "Could we do it standing up? That's how me and Chris do it. Lewis-Marshall and them did it with me on my tummy. I didn't like it much and you're a lot heavier than them."

"Oh, fair enough," Tristan conceded. "One good turn deserves another! Bend over there!" he continued, indicating the side of the bed.

Daniel did as he was asked, resting his hands on the mattress. Tristan pulled down the boy's shorts and underpants, pushing his tee-shirt up around his chest. He prised Daniel's cheeks apart, unsurprised to find that the lad's anus was quite messy and already slightly open, rendering further preparation quite unnecessary. He dropped his tennis shorts and moved into position, his penis nuzzling the boy's sphincter. He thrust it in. Daniel gasped then fell silent. Tristan set to work, fucking the boy steadily. Daniel held perfectly still, the tingling in his penis gradually building.

"Play with my dick, sir," he urged.

Tristan reached down, fondling the boy's stiff four-inch spike with a milking action, the tip touching the palm of his hand. Daniel shuddered violently, his balls churning into action. A moment later, his watery boy-cum squirted into Tristan's hand.

"Another naughty boy!" Tristan growled, gripping the lad around the thighs,

He fucked the boy even harder, giving it everything. Within seconds his climax overtook him. He held on tight as his penis reared up, depositing what semen was able to produce deep inside Daniel's bottom. Slowly and carefully he withdrew, his sex-organ so sensitive he didn't dare touch it.

"Are you okay?" he enquired.

"Yes sir!" Daniel confirmed. "Felt just like it does when Chris bums me."

It had been a pleasant and unexpected bonus, Tristan decided, returning Daniel to his dorm. Palmer had been much sexier than he'd expected. He strolled back to his apartment to take another short rest before embarking on a final excursion. Pienaar, the South African boy; he'd be the one.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

After resting for an hour, Jim finally made it to the showers. Suitably refreshed, he made his way to the far dorm. He looked around. Stallard, the boy Tristan had nominated as the school slut, was down on all fours with Lee kneeling behind, fucking him doggy-style. Next to them, Mark and Kingsley were lying on their sides, sucking each other off. Gavin was there too, on his own and apparently fast asleep. It all seemed very odd; Lee, Kingsley and Gavin should have all been in the room next door.

He continued his survey. McKenzie, the boy whom he had come to find, was lying side by side with Chris, their hands clasped together. He made his way across to them.

"Would you like to come to my bedroom?" he asked quietly.

The boy grinned and gave Chris a quick peck on the cheek.

"See you later," he whispered.

He followed the man onto the corridor.

"What's your first name?" Jim asked. "We always use first names at Hartswood."

"Robin, sir" the boy said brightly.

"You and Chris seemed to be getting on very well," Jim commented, shepherding the boy into his bedroom.

"Yeah, Chris is great," Robin acknowledged.

"How come Lee, Kingsley and Gavin were in there?" Jim asked. "I thought they were supposed to be in with Lewis-Marshall."

"Er, something happened," Robin said nervously.

Jim listened with mounting concern as Robin recounted the events of the previous two hours, not at all sure that what amounted to the gang rape of the heir to the Marquis of Bedford might not provoke something akin to a diplomatic incident.

"Chris was really upset afterwards," Robin concluded. "He said he'd let himself down, sunk to their level. I don't think that. Lewis-Marshall's an animal; he and his friends have raped me a couple of times. He deserved it."

"Well, I can understand how you feel," Jim said soothingly, putting his arm around Robin's shoulder, "but I agree with Chris. They really shouldn't have done that, no matter how well-justified it might seem. Anyway, what sort of a night have you had?"

"Great, thanks!" Robin said, grinning, the best ever!"

"So who've you been with?" Jim enquired.

"Well I went with Mark first," Robin said. "He was great; I can see why Kingsley likes him so much. We played around for ages, sucking each other and that. By the time he bummed me I was really hot for it. Then I went with Clifford; he bummed me too. I think I must have slept for a bit after that. When I woke up Alex was on his own, so I went across to him.

"Yeah," Jim interrupted. "I saw you when I came in the time before; you were sucking each other off."

"Well, we were, but we didn't finish. Alex asked if I wanted to bum him. I don't get to do that very often so I said yes. It was fantastic!"

"Excellent!" Jim said. "I'm pleased that they all treated you well. And you've been with Chris too?"

"Yeah," Robin said. "He didn't bum me though; said he didn't feel like it after, you know, so we just sucked each other off. Alex seems to have really hit it off with Armitage; did you see them?"

"Yes," Jim acknowledged. "It was good to see; that's what an occasion like this should be about."

"Yeah, that's what I think," Robin said, snuggling closer, his smiling face mere inches from Jim's.

"So what would you like now?" Jim asked, running his hand over Robin's chest.

"I guess you're going to bum me, aren't you sir?" Robin responded.

"I'd really like that," Jim whispered, tugging gently at the waistband of Robin's briefs, "when you're ready of course!"

He eased Robin's underpants down onto his thighs, the boy completing the task of pulling them off.

"Mr. Kirby said you had a big cock," Jim commented, admiring Robin's medium-thick five inch penis.

He drew Robin to him; within seconds they were stretched out on the bed, kissing passionately. Once more Jim was in ecstasy, the boy so eager, so responsive. Though not classically pretty, with his straight collar-length hair the lad was very cute, his body almost perfect.

"You do that beautifully!" he cooed in Robin's ear.

"Mark taught me," Robin informed him. "I'd never done it before.

Their kissing resumed, Jim's lust increasing by the second. He snaked around, closing his lips around Robin's circumcised penis, sucking it lovingly. He slipped his hand between Robin's legs, a well-lubed finger working its way into the boy's anus, the boy cocking his left leg to urge him on. It was time. He released Robin's penis, allowing his finger to slide out.

"Can we do it doggy style?" Robin asked. "I like that."

"Of course!" Jim whispered.

They moved into position. Jim entered the boy with one well-practised thrust, drawing him steadily back until he was completely impaled. He fucked the lad relentlessly; although Robin had taken his penis without a murmur of protest, he was wonderfully tight, clearly unused to such a large intrusion. Slowly but inexorably the intensity increased, both of them covered in a sheen of perspiration.

"Sir!" Robin groaned. "Play with my cock!"

"Just be patient!" Jim countered, "I've got plans for that!"

He increased his thrusting. Almost immediately his orgasm started to build. His fifth of the night, it was never going to be spectacular, but it was very satisfying for all that; another delightful boy had been well and truly fucked. He carefully withdrew, flipping Robin onto his back. He plunged down onto the boy's penis, sucking it for all he was worth. His reward was swift, the boy's creamy nectar spurting into his mouth. It was the perfect conclusion. He took Robin back to his dorm, sorry to leave him behind. Collecting Matthew Fielding, as custom required, he returned to the bedroom, treating the lad to some affectionate cuddling before breakfast time.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim made his way to the refectory to find Tristan already there.

"I've heard about the altercation between your boys and Lewis-Marshall et al," he said blandly as Jim sat down. "Palmer told me."

"I thought you might not be too pleased about that," Jim responded.

"Oh, I've seen it coming," Tristan said with an air of resignation. "I've told Lewis-Marshall repeatedly that his arrogance would get him into trouble. Well, it finally happened; he'll get no sympathy from me."

"Well that's something of a relief," Jim said. "I wouldn't have wanted us to cause a diplomatic incident."

"Oh, not at all," Tristan assured him. "Anyway, what sort of night did you have? Did my little present arrive?"

"Dornham?" Jim said grinning. "Yes, he did eventually. Very nice too!"

"What d'you mean 'eventually'?" Tristan enquired.

"Well apparently Lewis-Marshall was supposed to bring him to me at around three o'clock, but he never turned up, so Dornham showed quite commendable initiative in finding me himself. I was just going to get a shower and there he was."

"Oh, I see," Tristan said absently. "And did he perform his party trick?"

"He certainly did!" Jim said, smiling. "That took the wind right out of my sails!"

"For an eleven year old, the boy is quite extraordinary!" Tristan confided. "So what other delights did you sample?"

"Well, Fielding of course," Jim said, "followed by Barr and Fenner, then after Dornham I spent a little time with McKenzie. Fenner apart, they were all quite delightful."

"Well that's five-all!" Tristan declared, beaming. "Mine were Proctor, as you know, Brown, as you probably also know, than after a well-earned sleep, McIntyre, Palmer and Pienaar; all absolutely wonderful. But what on earth possessed you to go with Fenner?" he asked, dropping his voice almost to a whisper, "except for the prospect of relieving him of his virginity?"

"Well, for reasons best known to themselves," Jim whispered, leaning right across the table, "instead of bringing Dornham to see me, Fenner and Lewis-Marshall brought me another boy. The kid was scared out of his wits; he was too young for me in any case, so I made Lewis-Marshall take him back. I decided to teach them a lesson. Once I'd got them back together, I chewed their ears off, told Fenner I like tall slim boys, which I do, and told him to come with me. I only found out he was a virgin when he started wittering on about not having taken it before."

"I see!" Tristan said. "He'll get a hard time over that when the other boys find out."

"Especially," Jim said conspiratorially, "when they find out he ejaculated on route. And they will; Dornham saw his spunk on the pillow."

"Good God!" Tristan exclaimed. "He's given so many boys a bad time for doing that; he'll be a laughing stock!" He paused for a moment. "As for bringing you a different boy, I can't imagine what they were thinking about," he grumbled. "I don't know why they can't just follow instructions! Who was it, anyway?"

"A lad called Laurence Beech," Jim told him.

"What?!" Tristan snapped, sitting up sharply.

"The suggestion was that we should all go to my bedroom and 'have a little fun together'," Jim informed him.

"They were told to take Dornham to your bedroom and nothing else!" Tristan snarled, turning an alarming shade of puce. "There was never any suggestion of anything like that; there never has been!" He took a deep breath. "You need to know the background to this," he continued quietly. "When Lewis-Marshall started in second year, he became a prime target for the older boys. Not only was he very cute, his status worked against him, as did the fact that he was an obnoxious little shit; they regarded him as the star prize. It was getting out of hand, so I intervened. The ringleaders found out how strong my right arm is, and I put a stop to it. At the beginning of this year I reminded Lewis-Marshall about it, told him that I hoped he wouldn't be inflicting that sort of distress on any younger boys while he was in charge. Of course, he took not a blind bit of notice. Two weeks ago, I caught him and Fenner taking Beech to the spare dormitory. Beech is a frail little thing; he can hardly cope with being at boarding school at all without having those two after him, so I sent him on his way and gave them strict instructions that he was not to be touched. They have deliberately defied my orders and they will regret it! I don't care who their parents are or how much money they've got; by the time I've finished with them, they won't know which bit of their arse hurts more, the inside or the outside!"

Jim swallowed hard; he'd never seen Tristan so angry. Breakfast over, he collected his things then supervised the Hartswood boys as they headed out to the waiting coach.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"They're looking a little the worse for wear," the driver observed as the boys trooped onto the coach. "Hard night was it?"

"You could say that," Jim conceded. "They're nursing a few social interaction abrasions. Still, we gave as good as we got."

"Oh, it's nothing I haven't seen before," the driver commented, following Jim on board.

Jim sat close to the front, the boys draped across the seats further back. Once safely on the road, he wandered down the aisle.

"Lee, come and see me for a moment, please," he said quietly, encountering the stockily built lad.

Lee followed him towards the front of the coach flopping down next to him.

"You don't even have to say it," he said, giving Jim his characteristic cheeky grin. "Nobody's going to say anything, none of us, not a word. We all know how much trouble we'd be in if anyone found out what went on."

"Fair enough," Jim said. "I just wanted to make sure. Will you ask Chris to come and see me please?"

Lee made his way back, to be replaced by Chris a few moments later.

"Reflections on last night?" Jim probed.

"We shouldn't have done it," Chris said, looking shame-faced. "It was wrong. I know the kid's an arsehole and I know what he did to Kingsley, we still shouldn't have done it."

"So a lesson learned then?" Jim continued.

"Yes sir," Chris acknowledged.

"Well, we got away with it, so draw a line under it and move on; there's nothing to be gained by dwelling on it."

"Thanks, sir," Chris said, nodding.

Finally it was Mark's turn.

"So things didn't go quite as planned, did they?" Jim suggested.

"No sir," Mark accepted. "It was weird; those kids were really posh but they behaved like animals. I don't get it."

"Have you read 'Lord of the Flies'?" Jim asked.

"Yes sir," Mark said.

"Well that's how boys behave when they're allowed to get away with it," Jim told him. "But there's another aspect to it. What does your dad do?"

"Runs a construction company," Mark said.

"And does he work hard?" Jim queried.

"Yes," Mark said firmly, "too hard probably. Grandad set the business up, but it was still quite small when dad took it over. He's built it up to be one of the biggest construction companies in the South East."

"And you know that you're going to have to work if you want to enjoy the lifestyle you have now?" Jim persisted.

"Yes sir," Mark agreed.

"Well those boys are quite different. Their parents didn't have to work for the wealth; they were born into it. They've never had to work, and their boys aren't expected to either. It makes a big difference."

"Yes sir," Mark said. "I can see that."

The remainder of the journey was uneventful, bringing them back to Hartswood at ten to eleven. They all looked and felt shattered, Jim included. He watched the boys trudge wearily back into school before loading his bag into his car for the short journey home. Even that was a struggle, and once there, he headed straight for his bedroom, stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep the moment that his head hit the pillow.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Jim stepped into the deputy head's office.

"So how did the tournament go?" John Halford asked.

"Very well," Jim said. "We made the final where we were beaten by an excellent team. I don't think we could have done any better."

"Excellent," John continued. "However, we are concerned about the state that the boys were in when they got back."

The alarm must have shown in Jim's face.

"Of course, nobody's said anything," Mr. Halford went on. "In fact they've been extremely reticent, which is remarkable in itself, especially when you had someone like Lee Sheldon in the team; it does rather leave people to draw their own conclusions. And when they almost all go straight to bed the moment they get back, and several of them don't surface again till supper time, that's not exactly difficult."

"I see," Jim said quietly. "I did notice that some of them did seem to be nursing a few social interaction abrasions."

"Not an expression I've heard before," John commented, "but nicely put. The official version is that you were kept in ignorance of the sleeping arrangements and played no part in anything that went on, and as nobody's saying anything, that won't be contradicted. However, we feel it would be better if you did not plan on going there again next year."

"I'd already made that decision," Jim said. "I'd forgotten how barbaric some of these places can be. It's a shame; the tournament was excellent; Gavin was in his element; he played outstandingly well."

"Why don't you organise something here?" John asked.

"I've been thinking about that," Jim said. "We'd struggle to actually hold it here, our changing facilities wouldn't cope, but I'm going to chat to Keith Allison at Queen Elizabeth's, offer to do all the organisation if they'll host it."

"Well if you need any help, just ask," John said, smiling.

Jim strolled back to his office, slumping into his chair. He'd received a mild slap on the wrist, nothing more than that. He felt strangely at peace. He'd finally understood how valuable his life at Hartswood was, and how much it meant to him. He might easily have ended up at a school like Fraylsham Park, having sex with an endless succession of boys, just as Tristan was doing. But the relationships he'd enjoyed at Hartswood and the successes to which he'd contributed were far more fulfilling than anything a school like that had to offer. Hartswood had been his life for almost eight years, so long that he'd almost begin to take it for granted. But not any more; he felt renewed, more focussed on the task ahead than he'd been since William left. His life was everything he could have asked for; he was going to make sure that he treasured every moment of it.