Pink Panther

HARTSWOOD PRIORY

Toby's Story 31 - 39

31

So, here I am, back at school.

I'm getting over that business with Sean. The chat with Liz really helped. That was weird; we've never talked like that before, not once. She growing up, I guess, the same as I am. She still creeps round dad, of course, but I see that a bit differently now.

She does it 'cause it gets her what she wants. She's playing the system, much like as I do here. I know it sounds bad, but now I'm back at school, there's so much going on I don't really have time to think about Sean.

We're playing the final of the Sussex and Hampshire Prep Schools' Cup; cricket that is. We've won three matches to get here; now this is the big one. We're playing Farndale, which is somewhere near Winchester. They're not on our regular fixture list, so we don't really know what to expect. What we do know is that they beat our biggest rivals, Whitestone Hall, in the quarter finals, so they're obviously not bad.

The final's always played at Lanehurst Cricket Club. We usually travel by minibus to our away fixtures, but this is a final, probably the biggest match the school's been in for several years. They've hired a coach so that we can take supporters with us. That includes all the budding cricketers, three teachers as well as Mr. Halford, and all of our 'younger friends'; Ian, Peter and all the rest of them.

We're the first to arrive. We look around.

It's the first time I've played at a club ground. The boundaries are longer than at any of the school grounds I've been to, and they've got proper sight screens; it's even got seating in front of the pavilion. I can hardly wait to get started.

"The pitch here is excellent," Mr. Halford tells us, but it's a bit faster than you're used to, so make sure you get the pace of it before playing too many shots. There'll be a bit more bounce as well, so anything back of a length will get up a bit more. It's not dangerous; you just need to be aware of it."

Giles grins; the pitch being faster means that the ball will come onto the bat more, ideal for playing those front-foot drives he's so good at. The other team arrive and we start to prepare. Giles wins the toss and chooses to bat first, no surprise there. As we make our final preparations there's a subtle change in the weather. It's been bright and sunny all morning, ideal cricket weather, but now there are some clouds coming over and there's a sticky feel in the air. There might be a thunder storm later.

Farndale take the field; Brian and Jonathan stride out into the middle. It's obvious from the first ball that batting's not going to be as easy as it was looking an hour ago. Their opening bowler's good, fairly quick and the heavy atmosphere's helping him to swing the ball. Brian edges the second ball wide of gully for a single. Jonathan nudges the next one off his hip and they run through for another single.

The fourth ball's wide of off-stump. Brian fishes for it but doesn't get a touch. This is not looking good. The next ball's just about perfect, a good length just outside off-stump. Brian pushes forwards, but the ball moves away, catching the edge of the bat; first slip takes a neat catch. This is going to be a struggle.

Giles doesn't last too long either, perishing much the same way that Brian did; these aren't the conditions for playing expansive drives. That brings Hugh to the crease. Hugh and Jon are battlers; and right now that's just what we need. It's not pretty to watch but they're sticking in there, pushing the ball for ones and twos whenever they get the chance.

I'm sitting with Paz, a little bit away from the rest of the lads. I bat at number seven; he comes in after me. As a cricketer he's almost my mirror image. I bowl right arm and bat left handed; he does the exact opposite. The only difference it that I bowl spin and he bowls medium pace. I've got to know him quite well the past few weeks. I like him a lot; he's got a bit of the rebel in him the same as I have. In between overs we survey the scene. The Eagle Dorm Sex Club are sitting together a few rows in front of us, a little to our right.

"So is Simon still keeping you happy?" I ask quietly.

"You bet he is," Paz responds, grinning at me. "He can't get enough of it. I can't imagine why none of the kids in Upper fourth wanted him; they must be stupid."

"You wouldn't fancy a foursome with me and Ian, would you?" I suggest.

"Don't know about a foursome," he says guardedly. "We could do a three though, you me and Simon. He's always on about wanting to go with two older kids at once."

"Seriously?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Completely," he says, giving me a big grin.

"Let's do it then," I say, grinning back. "Monday evening, meet me by the art room, half past seven."

"The art room?" he asks. "What's down there?"

"It's cool," I tell him. "You'll see!"

The other bowlers are competent but not really threatening. Hugh and Jon just keep battling away and with the score on 80 for 2 things are looking much healthier, even though we've only got seven overs left. Then their opening bowler comes back on and Jonathan is finally out for a very patient thirty eight. Julian is in next. He's a good stroke player but his defence isn't up to much. He plays a couple of shots then gets beaten all ends up by one that nips back at him, his middle stump cart-wheeling out of the ground.

Craig and Justin have been taking it in turns batting at number six. That's fair because Justin's improved a lot this year and there's not much to choose between them. Today it's Justin's turn. He survives the rest of the over, then he and Hugh each get a couple of singles from the lad bowling from the other end. Now he's got to face the quick boy again. First ball of the over he loses his middle stump just like Julian did.

I pull on my batting gloves and stride out to the middle. The first ball is straight and on a good length. I'm immediately on the back foot, getting right into line. It zips through at a comfortable height. I watch it all the way and push it back up the pitch. The next one pitches only inches shorter, but instead of coming through at a nice height, it rears up at me. I try to get the bat out of the way but it's on me before I know it.

It catches the shoulder of the bat and lobs up to gully. I'm out for a second-ball duck. I trudge back to the pavilion. It might sound odd, but I'm less disappointed than I am when I've got out playing a silly shot. I got an absolute snorter; there wasn't much I could have done about it.

Paz gets the luck that I didn't; repeatedly edging the ball wide of the fielders. Then he gets one that goes right through him and clears middle stump by a whisker. I guess you'd call it the luck of the Irish. But he survives. At the other end Hugh just keeps battling. The innings closes with him having made a superb fifty three not out, his highest score of the season. As he walks back to the pavilion, the opposition form a guard of honour and all our supporters stand, everyone applauding. He looks quite embarrassed.

In normal circumstances we wouldn't expect to win with a score of 107 for 6, but in these conditions, I reckon we've got a good chance. Ashton's every bit as good as their opening bowler and Rob's better than anyone else they had. My hopes are raised still further when Ashton takes a wicket with the third ball of the innings, with neither batsman having scored.

That brings their number three to the crease. He's about average height and slim, with a mop of blond curly hair and piercing blue eyes. He is stunning! I'm certainly looking forward to seeing him in the showers after the game. He takes guard left-handed, just like I do. Right, well he may be cute, let's see how he can bat.

I soon find out. It doesn't seem to matter that the ball's moving around and the light's not that good, over the next few overs he smashes the bowling to all parts of the ground. He breaks the rules too, playing with the bat well away from his body and still creaming it through the covers; I've never seen anything like it.

Giles tosses me the ball. He plays my first delivery defensively. The next one disappears into the pavilion.

Fuck! The kid's a batting genius! To make matters worse, he's farming the bowling, stealing singles off the fifth or sixth ball of every over in order to retain the strike.

When we do get a chance to bowl at whoever's batting with him, we're taking wickets all the time, but we can't get through them fast enough. He scores the winning runs with four overs to spare. Out of a score of 108 for 7, he's scored seventy nine not out. It's a huge disappointment.

We trudge back into the dressing room. Everybody seems down. We played as well as we could in the conditions, but the blond kid just took it away from us. Without him they wouldn't have stood a chance. Mr. Halford comes bustling in.

"Well played, everybody," he says. "Don't be too disappointed, that lad will play for England when he's older, or at least he ought to; he's as good as anyone I've ever seen. There was always a chance we might have got him early on, but once he'd settled it was all over, basically."

We get ready for the journey home. I'm still pretty gutted; I hate losing. The only compensation is that the kid looks just as stunning in the showers as I'd thought he would.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I meet Paz and Simon outside the art room, as arranged. I lead the way to the trunk store and let us in.

"This is pretty cool," Paz comments. "I'd no idea people came here."

"They don't," I tell him. "I do, well me and my friends; so no telling anyone about it, okay?"

"Sure," Paz responds.

"Understand, Simon?" I ask. "As far as your friends are concerned, you went behind the pavilion with Paz. This never happened."

"I understand," he says giving me a very cute smile. "I won't say anything. So are you both going to bum me?"

"What d'you think we brought you here for?" I ask.

Paz and I undress him down to his underpants. He's very cute and hard already by the looks of things. Paz leans forward and kisses him, Simon reaching up and wrapping his arms round Paz's neck. I kneel down, just off to the side. I pull the kid's briefs down.

His cock's a little over three inches long, fairly slim and as hard as iron. He's not circumcised, but the foreskin's come right back leaving the small shiny head fully exposed. I turn him towards me and take it into my mouth, sucking it right in. Sucking kids like him is something else I'll never get tired of doing.

I run my hand between his firm satin-smooth thighs, running my fingers over the sensitive area behind his balls. I touch his hole. There's no mistaking the fact that he's been fucked.

Eventually we let him go. Paz and I quickly strip off. Paz is a bit bigger than me; about an inch taller and bit more chunkily built. His cock's about the same length as mine, but thicker, with a few pubic hairs just starting to sprout.

We get onto the bed; it's going to be a Piggy in the Middle classic, with Simon as the pig. We start with Paz sucking him and fingering his bum while he sucks me. He's very good at it. You can tell he's had lots of practice; the sensations he's giving me are fantastic, keeping me right on the edge. I won't be in any hurry to stop him.

After a couple of minutes his cock jerks in Paz's mouth. Paz pulls off, grinning and licking his lips; it's time to swap over.

To start with, I just lick the kid's cock until he's fully hard again. Then I take him into my mouth, my lubed up middle finger pushing right into his bum. It's almost too easy; I push my index finger in as well, slowly twisting them round to get him ready.

It's time to do it. I get him onto all fours, his bum pushed well back behind his knees, his shoulders almost touching the mattress. I rub a smear of KY over my cock and get into position. One thrust and I'm right inside him, my tummy pressed tight against his bum.

He's not the tightest, but he'll do for me; within a few seconds I'm fucking him stupid while he slurps eagerly on Paz's dick.

"Bring him off if you want," Paz says casually. "Having a dry cum won't stop him; he'll be ready to go again by the time you've finished."

I reach down and fondle the kid's throbbing cock. He goes wild, almost like he's trying to swallow Paz's dick. A few seconds later he bucks like a wild animal, his cock jerking between my fingers. I bum him even harder, pounding his arse as hard as I can go. My balls start to churn. I slam right into him.

"Oh, fuck!" I gasp. "I'm gonna cum! Nnngg! Nnnngg! Aaarrrggghhh!"

I hang on for dear life as my cock rears up inside him, my spunk spurting over and over into his cute little bum. I take several deep breaths and slowly pull out. That was great!

Paz doesn't waste much time taking my place; he doesn't even lube himself up. Within a few seconds he's fucking the shit out of the kid.

It seems like Simon's used to being handled quite roughly; I guess he likes it that way.

I'm getting hard again just watching them. I reach across and fondle Simon's cock. I only stroke him a few times and he has his third dry-cum in not much more than five minutes.

As I let him go, Paz pushes him down onto the bed, pressing down on top of him and fucking him senseless.

"You love this, don't you?" Paz growls. "Well, now you're going to get it. Yes! Yes!! Ohhhhh!!!"

He collapses on top of the kid, totally spent. That was hot! I loved it! I'm not sure I'd want to do it all the time, but once in a while it certainly spices things up a bit!

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The summer term's coming to a close. We've done our end of year exams. I did the best I ever have; I was top in English, art and history, and wasn't too far away in everything else.

I even did well in maths and religious education which have always let me down before. That's down to the teachers we've had; it's as simple as that. Overall, Justin was top, with Craig and myself not far behind. That means I'll get put in for Public Schools' Scholarship, which is what I've been aiming for.

A couple of days ago it was sports day. Russell's dad came up with some colour film for me, which was pretty good of him. It seems Russell's doing really well at Millfield, so his dad's still more than happy to help us out.

Tomorrow morning, Mr. Chandler's taking me to London to edit it, just like we did last year, but today I've got something else to look forward to, our final cricket match, the annual fixture against Whitestone Hall. I'm not completely sure of the history, but the rivalry goes back years.

What I do know is that the matches are always keenly contested and are often very close.

There will be one big difference this year. Their coach retired last summer; there's a new guy there now. They've still had a very good season though; the only match they've lost was to Farndale in the Prep Schools' Cup, the same as us.

One reason for that is that they've had this West Indian kid, Devon Moseley, come to the school; it seems his dad's a big cheese at the Jamaican High Commission. He's a fast bowler. We haven't seen him, but from what we hear, he's very tall, very quick and has taken lots of wickets. Mind you, he didn't have too much joy against Farndale; from what we were told, Blondy smashed him all over the park.

This year the match is at their place. That puts them at something of an advantage, but we're still pretty confident. We'll need to be careful playing Moseley, but we all know what to do; we've spent enough time working on it.

The minibus journey takes a little over half an hour. There's a little quiet conversation; that's about it. We're all getting ourselves focused for the battle ahead; that's something else that Mr. Halford's taught us.

Finally we arrive and step out into the sunshine. It's a glorious day, absolutely perfect for cricket. We stroll out into the middle to look at the pitch. It's dry, dusty and absolutely bone-hard, with quite a few cracks in it. It looks terrible! I know it hasn't rained for the past two weeks, but even so, ours isn't like that; all you have to do is water it.

Mr. Halford doesn't say anything but I can tell he's not happy. I know what he looks like when he's angry, and right now he's seething; I can see it.

We head into our changing room to get ourselves ready.

"The pitch looks dreadful," Mr. Halford says calmly. "I've never seen it like that; I don't know the reason for it, but I intend to find out. It's going to be fast and bouncy, but unlike Lanehurst, the bounce won't be reliable, so you'll need to be very careful. It doesn't make for good cricket, but remember, it's the same for both sides; they'll have to bat on it too. Okay lads, stay calm, and the best of luck!"

We make our way outside. I spot Moseley straight away, not difficult as he's the only black kid on either team. At five foot seven Ashton's pretty tall for thirteen, but this kid towers over him; he must be five foot ten at least. It's bloody obvious why the pitch is in the state it's in; they must reckon that Moseley's going to be all but unplayable. Well, we'll see about that.

They win the toss and ask us to bat first.

Brian and Jonathan stride out into the middle. Moseley's opening the bowling, with Mr. Halford umpiring at the end he's bowling from.

We get some impression of how fast he is from the position of the wicketkeeper, at least fifteen yards behind the stumps. Brian takes guard and prepares to face the first ball. Moseley runs in. He sends down a good length ball, pitching on off-stump. Brian pushes forward at it, but it bounces alarmingly and nearly cuts him in half, the wicketkeeper taking it chest high.

Fuck! This kid is much faster than anyone else we've faced.

Brian is clearly shaken up. The next ball, instead of getting into line the way we've been taught, he backs away to the leg-side, then reaches for the ball with the bat well away from his body. It's wide of off-stump and he misses it completely. It's the road to disaster; if he keeps doing that, he'll either miss a straight one and get bowled, or he'll edge one to the keeper. The inevitable happens two balls later.

Moseley pitches it on off stump, with Brian backing away to leg again. Brian fishes for it, gets an edge and the keeper completes a routine catch. Shit!

Giles strides out to the middle.

Well, at least he won't do that; he's as brave as they come. His height helps too. If Moseley pitches it up he can get right forward and smother it. If it's back of a length, he can play it off the back foot, using his height to get right on top of it. Over the next couple of overs, that's exactly what he does.

Jonathan doesn't seem to be having too many problems either. He's a natural back-foot player, the same as I am; I guess that helps. Okay, all he's done is push a few singles, but he's not looked in any trouble.

Moseley might be quick, but he's not all that accurate. For sure he bowls some very good balls, but in between times he sends down quite a few loose ones, including two that Giles has put away for four. He runs in for the first ball of a new over, sending down a half volley, a foot outside the off-stump.

Giles steps across and plays the perfect cover drive, the ball racing to the boundary. I check Dominic's score book. Giles has got fifteen, Jon's got four, and there have been two extras; score 21 for 1.

After a shaky start we've righted the ship; we're going okay and Moseley's looking rattled. He runs in again, banging the ball in well short of a length. This time Giles' height works against him, together with the fact that he's not all that supple. As the ball flies up at him he simply can't get out of the way quick enough. It hits him on the left temple.

He stays on his feet for a couple of seconds then collapses in a heap. Fortunately, his dad's come to watch; he strides out onto the pitch to see how bad it is.

Giles struggles to his feet, but he's clearly in no state to continue. His dad has a brief conversation with Mr. Halford then Giles is helped from the field. His dad's going to take him to hospital to get checked out. Now I'm seething; if they'd prepared the pitch properly that would never have happened.

Hugh goes out to replace Giles. Moseley's tail's back up again. He sends down three balls in a row, all dead straight and all at the short end of a good length, pinning Hugh on the back foot. Hugh plays them okay but doesn't look at all comfortable.

The last ball of the over's straight as well, but a much fuller length. It's not a half volley, but definitely one you should play forward to. But Hugh doesn't get forward; he doesn't really go anywhere, leaving himself trapped in no-man's land. The ball raps him on the pads; Moseley and all the close fielders appeal loudly. Mr. Halford pauses for a second then puts up the finger. Hugh's out leg before wicket without troubling the scorers.

As Hugh trudges off, Julian makes his way towards the middle. Julian's a flat-pitch bully. He can look really good on an easy paced pitch against mediocre bowling. I don't give him a hope against someone like Moseley.

Off the next over, Jon scores two singles; Julian scores a single, a four and another single, putting him on strike for the start of Moseley's next over. The first ball is back of a length, just outside off-stump. He fences at it, presenting third slip with an easy catch.

Craig goes out to bat looking like the condemned man going to the gallows. He's not the man for this situation either, not least because he can't play off the back foot very well. He's out first ball. The score's gone from 21 for 1 to 29 for 4; effectively 29 for 5 with Giles in hospital. Bollocks!

I make my way out to the wicket. I'm angry and disappointed; angry about the state of the pitch and the way Moseley's bowled; disappointed by the way we've batted. Apart from Jon and Giles, the rest of us just haven't been good enough.

Well, if Moseley thinks he's going to bully me out like he has some of the others, he'd better have another think. For one thing, I'm not going to be rushed. I take guard then wander down the pitch for a quick word with Jon.

"Let's make a fight of this, okay?" I say quietly.

"Yeah," he agrees.

I stroll back to my crease and look round the field. Finally I get into my stance. The first ball's on a good length, pitching on middle and leg. I go back and across, getting right into line, short back-lift. I watch the ball right onto the bat, playing it right below my eyes. It drops down in front of me and rolls a couple of feet down the pitch.

Moseley's standing hands on hips, glaring at me. I ignore him. He pushes the next ball across me, a sure sign his arm's getting tired. It's short and wide outside the off-stump. I'm back and right across, picking the bat up high. It sits up invitingly. I crack it away, getting all my weight into the shot. It speeds to the deep cover boundary; four runs.

Moseley's glaring at me again. I stare right back. I don't care; if he wants a staring match he can have one. He turns and strides back to his mark.

His next ball is on a better line but it's over-pitched, a juicy half volley just outside off-stump. I shuffle across slightly to get into line, picking the bat up high. Foot out to the pitch of the ball, right knee bent; bring the bat through as straight as an arrow, leading with my right elbow, driving the ball between the bowler and mid-off. The fielder at mid-off gives chase but it's a lost cause; it was four from the moment I hit it.

Moseley's really glaring now. It hardly surprising; fast bowlers hate being driven down the ground. I just stare back at him, wandering a couple of yards down the pitch to give it a token prod. My eyelids don't even flicker. He stomps back to his mark again.

There are no prizes for guessing what he's going to do now. I'm about to get the treatment Giles got. I'm not worried; I'm smaller than Giles and a lot nimbler. I can duck out of the way, no problem. He comes charging in. He bangs the ball in less than halfway down the pitch. It balloons harmlessly over my head and through to the keeper who has to back-pedal to take it.

Mr. Halford spreads his arms to signal a wide, which adds one run to our total and means that he'll have to bowl it again. Their guy, who's umpiring at square leg, is motioning to him to calm down.

Moseley takes a couple of deep breaths and sets off back to his mark for another try. Sometimes, you can see in advance what's going to happen. He's going to try the same thing again, only this time he'll get it right. I can see exactly where it's going to pitch and how it'll come through.

Like I say, it's not a problem; I can duck out of the way easily enough. Only I'm not going to. I've never played the hook shot in a match; I've never had the chance to be honest. I've played it a couple of times in the nets, but that was just messing about. Well I'm going to play it now. This is war; ducking out of the way just isn't an option.

He comes running in. As he gets into the delivery stride I'm already onto the back foot, getting right across outside off-stump to bring me inside the line. The ball pitches right where I saw it, rearing up towards my face.

I pivot on my left heel, pulling the bat right across the line. I meet the ball just below chin-high, right in the middle of the blade, rolling my wrists to keep it down. It fizzes across the grass, crossing the square leg boundary before the fielders have even moved.

This time Moseley's not glaring; he's looking at me open-mouthed, his eyes almost falling out. I'm not sure even Blondy would have played that shot. He takes his sweater. After five very hostile overs, that's the last we'll see of him for a while.

Their other bowlers are pretty accurate, but not really threatening, although the uneven bounce means we still have to be careful; we've not much batting left and not that many runs on the board.

I've not batted with Jon before and wish I'd done it more often. He's great, pushing the ball for singles whenever he can, giving me as much of the strike as possible. We're both quick between the wickets too, which certainly helps.

After nine more overs we've pushed the score on to ninety one.

Seven overs left, and Moseley's back on; I'm guessing he'll bowl the last four over from that end. He's had a rest, he's refreshed and he means business. His second ball is bang on a length, certainly not short, but it catches a crack or something; instead of coming through at a normal height it explodes off the pitch, hitting Jon on the upper arm, just below his right shoulder.

Fuck! Even I couldn't have got out of the way of that one. Jon throws his bat down and pulls off his gloves, clearly in quite a bit of pain. Far from showing concern at Jon getting hit, the close fielders are shouting encouragement to Moseley.

Now I'm not just angry; I'm disgusted as well. Doing that when someone's got hurt isn't fucking right!

After a couple of minutes Jon's back ready to go. Moseley's next ball is the best yorker I've ever seen, pitching right in the block-hole. After the working over he just had, Jon doesn't get his bat down in time and gets his middle and off stumps flattened. He's out for twenty three.

Shit! Now it's me batting with the tail.

Paz comes out to join me. We meet in the middle of the pitch.

"Just do your best," I say. "Don't give it away."

I go back to the non-striker's end, fearing the worst. Paz calmly edges his first ball wide of gully, though he clearly didn't know much about it. We trot through for a single. He's had the luck of the Irish again.

I've got three balls to face. The first one is right on target. I push it back along the pitch. The next one's on my pads and drifting down leg-side. I glance it away. The wicketkeeper dives across but can't get there. It runs away to the fine leg boundary. That'll do.

The last ball of the over is on a length and straight, but I'm seeing it so well I clip it into the gap at midwicket and we run another single.

The over from the other end passes without incident for the addition of five runs, so I'm back on strike to face Moseley.

The bastard does it again! The very first ball pitches right on a length and takes off. I get my bat out of the way but I've nowhere to go. It hits me just by my right nipple. It stings like fuck. The close fielders are baying for blood again.

Morons! I don't even crack my face; I'm certainly not going to rub it, I don't want to give them the satisfaction. Bastard! But he's nothing if not predictable; I know what's coming next, and that yorker he bowled would have cleaned up far better players than me. So let's give him something else to think about.

I move forward about eighteen inches, so I'm batting outside my ground. It does the trick. What would have been a yorker becomes a low full-toss. I punch it away wide of mid-on and we scamper through for two.

In the next over disaster strikes; Paz gets over-ambitious and holes out at mid-on. That brings Jeremy in; only the second time he's batted all season. Actually, he's not bad, but his shot-selection's a joke.

"Just push the ball for a single and give me the strike," I say.

"Oh, I'll just play my own game," he replies airily.

The very first ball, he takes a huge swing. He connects all right, but the ball goes straight up in the air. If it'd gone any higher it'd have come down with snow on it. By the time it does, their wicketkeeper is right underneath it. Fuck! He could have read the morning paper and still got there! He makes no mistake; Jeremy trudges off. Idiot!

So now it's me and Rob, and he hasn't had to bat all season. Fortunately, Jeremy and I crossed before the catch was taken so I've got the strike. Two balls to go; I hit the first one for a couple and get a single off the last one.

The first two balls of Moseley's next over I have to defend, but he's clearly tiring again; the third one's short and wide outside the off-stump. I'll hit those all day; that's another square cut for four. I steer his next ball between third slip and gully. There's an easy single on offer. I decide to take it; I can't protect Rob all the time. He's got two balls to face.

I cannot believe it; Moseley gets one on that spot again. Rob tries to drop his hands but he's not quick enough; it raps him on the fingers of his left hand. He drops the bat and pulls his glove off, wringing his hand in pain. It's a good job it wasn't his right hand or he wouldn't have been able to bowl.

Mr. Halford comes to inspect the damage.

"I don't think you've broken anything," he says. But it'll be very sore for a while."

Their guy bustles across, telling us we need to get on with it. I resist the temptation to tell him to fuck off; I make sure we don't rush though. It's the last ball of the over. Moseley bowls it full and perfectly straight. Rob does his best but he can't grip the bat properly; all he can do is deflect it onto his stumps.

We're down to out last man, Ashton, and I can't tell you how useless he is. So I've got one over against their spin bowler to get what I can, and if I'm very lucky I'll get a single off the last ball so I'm on strike for the final over. The first three balls yield a two; the others go straight to fielders.

Then I get what I've been waiting for; he tosses one up a bit higher.

Up to this point I've not taken many chances; well now's the time. I advance down the pitch, swinging the bat right through the line. The ball sails over the bowler's head and lands on the pavilion roof. Six! I'll take that! For the next ball all the fielders are in saving a single.

Then the order goes out; if I get one through they're to let it go. That's it then.

With the outfield being so fast, anything that beats the fielders will go to the boundary; I can't get a single anywhere. I hit the next ball too close to a fielder and get nothing, but the last one's right in my area. I punch it back between the bowler and mid-off. They let it go, but I don't think they'd have caught up with it anyway. That's another four, making twelve off the over. The innings ends two balls later.

We make our way off. I'm applauded from the field, but after concentrating for so long I'm scarcely aware of it. The job's not finished yet in any case. I make my way into the dressing room, and sink down onto the bench. We've got a twenty minute refreshment break then we've got to go out and field; I'm knackered already.

Dominic sits down next to me, showing me the scorebook. Out of a score of one hundred and eighteen I scored sixty two not out, the highest anyone's made all season. It'll be small consolation if we lose.

Unusually, My Halford's not around. We wander out to get the cakes and orange squash they've laid on; by the time we get back he's re-appeared.

"Right boys," he says quietly. "I don't have to tell you how hard it was out there, but thanks to a couple of outstanding performances we've given ourselves a chance. The pitch is bad and it's getting worse. The ball will turn if you give it a tweak," he says, looking at me.

"And you seam bowlers, concentrate on line and length, and look to see if there's any movement there for you. Don't try to bowl too fast, and above all I don't want to see anyone banging it in short. For one thing, none of you are fast enough, but more importantly, we don't play the game like that. Okay, you know what to do. Best of luck."

We stride out onto the field. In Giles' absence, Ashton's captaining the team with Justin as our substitute fielder. He's not outstanding, but he's okay and he's got a very strong arm which makes him useful fielding in the deep.

Mr. Halford was dead right about the conditions. Both Ashton and Rob are bowling beautifully. Ashton takes a wicket with his fourth ball, Brian taking a neat catch at first slip. Rob has the other opener caught behind, then Ashton removes their number four. They are struggling.

Rob bowls one at their number five. It's a fraction short, and wide of off stump, not a great ball to be honest. The lad slashes at it, but it gets up a bit higher than he expected and he doesn't keep it down. It flies a yard and half to my left, fielding at gully. I hurl myself across and throw out my hand. As any cricketer will tell you, catches like that either stick or they don't, and when they're to your weaker hand, they usually don't.

This one sticks. They're four down for twenty odd and in quite a bit of trouble.

Over the next few overs they start to rebuild, much like Jon and Giles did. Their captain, batting at number three is a damn good player, about on a par with Giles, I'd say.

Their number six is a big lad. He defends very solidly most of the time, but if you give him anything loose, he really crunches it.

Ashton and Rob have completed four overs each and been replaced by Paz and Jeremy. The batsmen are starting to look comfortable. They're taking the match away from us.

Paz bowls to their captain. I'm out of the gully by this time, back in my usual position patrolling the covers.

The ball is well pitched up, about a foot outside the off-stump. The lad drives it handsomely a few feet to my right, and sets off down the pitch. But I saw it coming and I was on the move before he hit it. I don't even think about the match situation; I just do what I've spent hours of practice on. I get across to the ball, fingers almost brushing the turf, pick it up, turn, aim and throw all in one movement.

The ball hits about three quarters of the way up middle stump at the non-strikers end with the batsman five yards short; he's not even close. He looks across at me and shakes his head as if to say "How did you do that?" Then it clicks.

As he trudges off I allow myself a little smirk; he thought I was left handed.

That brings Moseley to the wicket. His batting is unorthodox to say the least of it. Most of the time he defends, but occasionally he picks one to have a go at and smashes it. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason in which balls he chooses to hit or where he hits them; juicy half volleys will be treated with the utmost respect, perfectly good balls will be dispatched to the boundary. He's obviously got a very good eye though.

Jeremy bowls to him, a good, fullish length, just outside off-stump, the ball moving away slightly off the seam. It's probably the best ball he's bowled. Moseley plants his front foot on the line of off-stump, and pulls it away to deep mid-wicket, hitting right across the line.

Jeremy loses it; I've seen this before. Next ball he runs in faster and tries to bang one in short, exactly what Mr. Halford told him not to do. He's just not quick enough to do that; it ends up as a long-hop wide of off-stump. Even a rabbit can hit those; Moseley smashes it away to the extra cover boundary.

The last ball of Jeremy's over is pretty wild as well, but it gets up a bit and Moseley lets it go through. Ashton comes across and has a word with him. He's taken him off.

After another over from Paz, Ashton hands me the ball.

My first two deliveries are pretty standard, and right on the spot. The big number six defends solidly; he's clearly not going to give this away. I remember what Mr. Halford said about the ball turning. I toss the next one up higher and really work my fingers over it.

The big lad advances down the pitch, aiming for a big drive over the top, but the ball grips on the dusty surface and leaps up at him, turning back sharply. It hits him on the glove and loops up in the air.

I sprint down the pitch and dive full-length, just getting my hands under it before it hits the ground. Got him!

They're six down with only Moseley and the bowlers left.

I continue bowling the same way, but the batsmen just won't take me on, playing mainly with their pads. The ball's bouncing so high and turning so much I'll never get a leg-before decision in a month of Sundays.

Still, I'm stopping them scoring. But I'm not used to bowling like this, after a couple of overs my index finger's starting to get raw.

I go across to Ashton.

"It's okay," he says. "I was about due to come back on anyway. Well done; you've done a great job."

I go back to my position in the covers. Moseley continues what he's been doing. They're pushing the score along but he's running out of partners. It's getting very close. Their ninth wicket falls. Mr. Halford asks for the score to be checked. After a little consultation between Dominic and their scorer he gets his answer; 114 for 9. They need five runs; we need one wicket.

Rob starts a new over, bowling to Moseley. He hits a two. Their target's down to three. He defends the next two balls. Fourth ball of the over, good length outside off-stump;

Moseley steps across and swings it away to the leg-side, in the air.

I just stand and watch knowing we've lost.

Justin's sprinting towards it, but he can't possibly get there; he's got too much ground to make up. It'll go first bounce over the boundary between deep midwicket and square leg.

Then Justin takes off. I'll repeat that; he takes off, he's flying through the air, his arms stretched out in front of him. It all seems to happen very slowly. He grasps the ball with both hands, still airborne. Finally he lands and everything goes back to normal speed.

He's sliding across the turf, on his tummy, forearms up, hands still clutching the ball. It takes several seconds for it to sink in. We haven't lost; we've won. It's the most amazing catch I've ever seen.

The other lads are ecstatic; Justin gets mobbed. I'm not; my only feeling is one of relief. They played dirty to try and get the win; we stopped them. That's all there is to it.

We leave the field. Their captain comes across to shake my hand. He's a good player and seems like a decent kid.

"Well done," he says. "You deserved it."

"Thanks," I say quietly, accepting the handshake.

Moseley's by the changing rooms still in his pads; it seems like he wants to shake my hand too.

"Well done," he says in a very posh voice, like he's trying to sound more English than the English. "You played superbly."

I didn't like him before; I like him even less now. He's Jamaican, for fuck sake! Why doesn't he sound like one? I give him the eyeball.

"A bit less of the short stuff, if you don't mind!" I say sharply. He looks shocked.

"You hit me, you hit Jonathan, you nearly broke Rob's fingers and you put Giles in hospital," I say, spelling it out to him. "I hope you're happy with your afternoon's work!"

I stride past him and into our dressing room. I sit on the bench feeling totally drained. I've never, ever been as tired as I am now; all I want to do it go to bed and sleep.

Mr. Halford's disappeared again. This time I know exactly where he's gone; their guy's going to be getting some serious ear-ache. I go through the showers still in a daze then get dressed for the trip back to school. Mr Halford re-appears, closing the changing room door behind him.

"I've just been to see their cricket master, Mr. Parsons and made clear to him that there were certain things that happened today that just weren't acceptable. During the tea interval, I'd been to see the groundsman, Mick Crawford, whom I've known for years.

"Over the past week or so he told Mr. Parsons three times that the pitch needed watering, and on each occasion he was told he was not to do it. That's one thing. The behaviour of some of their players was even worse, especially when you lads got hit. I know the head here quite well; he'd be appalled if he knew.

"Mr. Parsons has apologised to me and asked me to convey those apologies to you, which I'm doing. I accepted his apologies on the understanding that nothing like this will ever happen again. Mick Crawford will be allowed to prepare the pitches as he sees fit and the players' on-field behaviour will be addressed.

"I have made it very clear that if he goes back on any of this, I will take matters further. He understands that were I to do that, he would be in serous trouble. So well done everyone; let's go home."

We troop out and head towards the minibus. He puts his arm round Justin's shoulder.

"That the best catch I've ever seen at this level," he says quietly. "Absolutely amazing."

"How did you do it, Tigger?" Jonathan asks, clearly still excited. "You were off the ground!"

"Dunno really," Justin says, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I just knew I had to catch it. I just threw myself at it."

"Pure adrenalin," Mr. Halford says, giving Justin's shoulder a squeeze.

We settle into the minibus and set off.

"I think Toby was very rude, speaking to Moseley like that," Brian says so everyone can hear.

"Not at all," Mr. Halford tells him. "There's no place for bowling like that in school cricket."

"But, sir," Brian insists, "bouncers are part of the game!"

"Not at this level they aren't," Mr. Halford says firmly. "They make the game far too dangerous. Parents won't allow their boys to play if they're going to get hit all the time. If Mr. Madison hadn't been there, I'd have had to telephone him to explain what had happened. Would you have wanted to do that?"

"No, sir," Brian concedes. "But Giles should have got out of the way."

"At least he didn't hang his bat out to dry like you did," I say acidly.

"I was trying to run it down to third man, but it got up a bit and I edged it," he counters.

"Brian," Mr. Halford says quietly, "when you're in a hole, stop digging. That was an awful shot and you know it."

Brian finally shuts up. He sits and sulks for the rest of the journey.

Half an hour later, we're back at school.

The reception committee's there to meet us, Ian, Peter, Will and the rest of them.

"How did you get on?" one of them asks.

"We won, just," someone says.

Patrick's there; he goes across to Brian, eyes sparkling. He is stunningly cute.

"How many did you get?" he asks.

"Zero, nought, a duck," Brian says disconsolately. "I played like an idiot. I let myself down and I let the team down."

Of all the things that have happened today this might be the most astounding of all. Brian's usually full of himself, like he was on the bus earlier on. I've never heard him talk like that, ever. Mr. Halford goes and stands right behind him, putting his hands on Brian's shoulders.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," he says gently. "You took a good slip catch, and fielded well all the way through. You got badly shaken up by that first ball and forgot what you've been taught. It happens. So what should you have done?"

"Got into line and remembered that when the conditions are tough you have to rely on your technique to keep you out of trouble."

"And you'll do that next time, won't you?"

"Sir," Brian responds.

I wander back towards the buildings with Ian tagging along beside me.

I'm so tired I can't even think straight, much less talk.

Then I get the hand round the shoulder treatment.

"I think that was the real Toby we saw out there today," Mr. Halford says, "the Toby that won't let people push him around, the Toby who produces his best when the conditions are at their hardest. I've seen glimpses of him before, on the rugby field mainly, but today was the first time I've had a really good look at him. That's the Toby I want to see a great deal more of, and I don't just mean playing cricket."

"Sir," I say.

After all the battles we've had it seems a strange thing for him to have said; I thought he liked good little boys who do as they're told, but I'm not arguing.

"Go and enjoy your evening," he says. "You've earned it."

I head back to the dorm. That was weird; Mr. Halford knows just about everything that goes on in this place. He must have known why those particular boys were there waiting for us, but he completely ignored it, just told me to enjoy my evening when Ian was there right next to me. I'm not sure what to make of that.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As it goes, the evening was very pleasant, not that we did a great deal. It was beautifully warm; Ian and I strolled out to one of the places in the woods. We lay there and cuddled for a bit. Ian wanted to know about the match, but I was too tired to say a lot. He asked if he could kiss my bruise better, but I told him I'd rather he didn't.

Finally he sucked me off; I just lay there stroking his hair and let him get on with it. It was nice; very nice in fact. Ian's a real star; in situations like that I couldn't find anyone better.

Getting up Sunday morning was a struggle, I was still half asleep when we got to London. I did perk up a bit once we'd got there; editing the film was a gas! It's better than last year's, much more polished. We showed it yesterday; the kids loved it. Lots of thanks to Mr. Chandler again, of course; he's helped me a lot. I'm not sure what he'd think if he knew how I've been using my camera skills recently; I try not to think about it.

Since 'the match', as everyone seems to call it, I've become a sort of school hero, especially among the younger kids. That's pretty weird; I just did what I could. Okay, I probably concentrated better than I usually do, but that was about it. I certainly don't feel any different. I guess it's something I'll have to get used to.

A group of first years saw me in the changing room just as I was getting dressed. They were very impressed by the bruise, which has started to turn yellow. One of them asked if he could touch it. I told him if he so much as laid a finger on it, I'd grind him to a pulp. We all laughed, but he got the message; just as well, it's still very sore.

Today's Tuesday; we'll be off home in two days time, or in my case I'll be off to Rob's house.

I'm looking forward to that. Upper Fourth are out of school today; they've gone to London on a sight-seeing trip, like they do every year. That means we're getting our first taste of being 'in charge', not that is makes any difference to most of us. Rob's responsible for a group of six lads doing prefect duties; I managed to avoid being one of them. I'll have to do some next term, but I'll worry about that when it happens.

I stroll into the bottom corridor boys' room for a piss. Half a minute later I've got Gavin McAllister, Ian's mate, standing a couple of feet to my left, giving me a cheeky grin and flashing his dick at me.

Fuck! The skinny little tyke wants sex, as if getting bummed by big Max isn't enough for him! Well, Max isn't around, of course; he's away with the rest of Upper Fourth, and even if I did get caught by one of the substitute prefects, nobody's going to say anything. I jerk my head in the direction of the furthest stall, follow him in and bolt the door.

We get each other's shorts and pants down. He's so slim; his legs are like pencils! We fondle each other's dicks. He's circumcised, like Sean and Ian, and about the same size as Sean, which isn't bad for a ten year old.

"Are you going to bum me?" he whispers.

"Sure!" I tell him.

He doesn't waste any time, positioning himself over the toilet. It looks like Max has been fucking him senseless. I smear some KY over my dick and move in behind him. I line myself up and push it in. He gives a little gasp. He may be well used to it, but he's still pretty tight. I guess that's cause he's so small, you know, skinny. I set to work, gradually building it up till I'm fucking him into the middle of next week.

He's pretty quiet, but he's still gasping a bit. He loves it! I play with his cock; it's rock hard. I'm getting close, my balls beginning to churn. I ratchet it up one final time. Suddenly everything goes mental. I'm spunking, he's dry cumming, it's all happening! I hang on tight as I unload over and over into his hot little bum. Wow! I take a couple of deep breaths and carefully pull out.

"Was I good?" he asks.

"Excellent!" I tell him.

"Better than Ian?"

"Don't be cheeky!" I say, grinning at him. "Not better, different."

We quickly get dressed and I send him on his way.

What a nice little end of term bonus that was!

32

Rob's dad collects us from school and drives us back to their place. It's quite an old house in a village somewhere between Guildford and Aldershot. It's pretty big but not posh at all; it's got a nice, homely feel to it. Rob's room's on its own right at the top of the house. It's huge, with twin beds and lots of storage space.

"Nice room, man!" I say, grinning at him. "You could have loads of fun in here."

"Yeah," he says, smiling back. "I often hang out here with friends from the village, especially when it's wet and we can't play outside."

We start sorting our stuff out. As I knew I'd be coming here, I crammed all my playing out clothes into my case when I went back to school after half term so I wouldn't have to go home to get them. By the time we've finished, lunch is ready. We eat at a large pine table in the kitchen-breakfast room. Rob says it's what they always do when his parents are there. It's not a problem; that's how we eat dinner at home. Rob's dad is quite chatty.

"Robert told me about your last cricket match," he says. "Wonderful effort; I'd have you in my regiment any time. You'd have to get your hair cut though."

"Thanks," I say, grinning at him. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but Rob tells me you want him to go into the army. He wants to be a doctor. It's his life; don't you think he should be able to do what he wants? He said it's because you want him to keep up the family tradition."

"Oh, did he now," he replies. "Well, that certainly comes into it, but I don't think you've got the whole story."

Rob's looking embarrassed.

"Now tell me," his dad asks, "where did you finish in the end of term exams?"

"Second," I reply.

"And where were you?" he asks, turning to Rob.

"Ninth," he says, answering through gritted teeth.

"Right," his dad says, turning back to me. "Does he work hard?"

"Yes," I say nodding.

"I know he does," his dad continues. "Grade A for effort all the way down his report. Now have you any idea how hard it is to get into medical school? I know the standards at Hartswood are pretty high, but I don't think that's going to be good enough, do you? Especially as you come from a family with no background in medicine, and that does count, you know."

Well, that seems like the end of the argument, but his dad hasn't finished.

"Now I believe that you want to be a film director," he says to me. "Is that right?"

"Yes," I confirm.

"Well that's pretty hard too," he says. "Now apart form the fact that you do very well in class, Rob tells me that you spend quite a bit of your spare time filming stuff, sports day, things like that, trying to learn how films are made. What else do you do?"

"Well, I go to the cinema a lot, and I read stuff, you know, about the top film directors, trying to understand how they work. I'm trying to understand some of the technical stuff too, like lighting and that. One of my uncles is a film critic; he knows quite a few film producers and directors; I've met a few of them. Mainly I just listen to what they talk about. Oh, and he's promised to take me to Pinewood Studios before we go back to school, so I can see what it's like."

"Very good," he says. "For twelve year old you're doing just about everything you could to understand what's involved in the job you want to do. Now Robert here hasn't done any of that. Of course, we meet doctors all the time, so we think we know what they do, but we don't, not really." He turns to Rob. "The truth is, you haven't got a clue what being a doctor's really like, have you?"

Rob doesn't answer; there's not much he could say.

"So let me explain why I want him to go into the army," his dad continues. "In the army we take in young men from very ordinary backgrounds and ask them to risk their lives in some pretty dangerous places. Now if we're going to do that, we need to make sure that they're properly led, and that means recruiting good officers. Now I'd like to imagine that you're a young soldier, fighting some rebels in the back of beyond somewhere.

"Now think of your classmates, the boys you know. Which one would you want as your company commander?"

Well, that's the easiest question of all. Rob's not just the obvious choice; he's the only choice. I don't say anything, just grin and point my finger at him.

"Exactly!" his dad says triumphantly. "I want him to do it because he'd be good at it, and the army desperately needs officers like him. You know," he continues, "one of the biggest problems in the army is bullying. Some of these young soldiers do well, so they get promoted; they become non-commissioned officers. In a few cases, the power goes to their heads, and the nasty side of their character comes out. They get away with it because their commanding officers are weak. D'you think Robert would let them get away with it?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. I know damn well he wouldn't; he hates bullies almost as much as I do.

"So there you have it," his dad says quietly.

Well the argument's definitely over now and I got my arse kicked. The next time I take on somebody like that, I'll make sure I know what I'm talking about.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

We spend the afternoon in the back garden with a rugby ball, practising our passing skills. The garden's massive; there's no way we could do that at our house. After dinner we watch some telly then go and hang out in Rob's bedroom.

"You think dad's right, don't you?" Rob says, "about me going into the army."

"I think he's got a point," I say guardedly.

"Well, I know he's right," he says, giving me a wry smile. "I was day-dreaming; I wouldn't get into medical school, I'm not clever enough. He was right about the other thing too; oh sure, I'd like to be a doctor, but I don't want to be a doctor like you want to be a film director."

"So you'll be going to Welbeck then?" I ask.

"Yeah, looks like it," he says.

It's finally time for bed. Tomorrow Rob will show me round the area a bit, introduce me to some of his friends; I'm looking forward to that. We start to strip off. I'm not quite sure what to expect. Over the last few months Rob's got into having sex like you wouldn't believe. Peter, Will, Martin, me; he must have been having it a dozen times a week. He's grown quite a bit down there too; it's not that much longer but it's got a lot thicker, and his pubic hair's really noticeable now.

He's not as big as Sam was, the kid I met at the holiday centre last summer, but he's well on the way. He's not a little boy any more; that's for certain.

"So are we going to... You know?" I ask.

"Not now," he says, "mum and dad are still up."

"When, then?" I query.

"You know the time," he says, grinning at me. "Only I'll come to you."

I know the time all right, half past five, the time I climb into his bed every Sunday morning.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I blink and shake myself awake. I'm aware of having someone in bed with me. I check my watch; its 5:32. Oh, right.

"Good morning," Rob whispers. "Sleep okay?"

"Like a log," I say, yawning and stretching.

"You ready then?" he asks, reaching down and fondling my cock through the soccer shorts I'm wearing.

"I need a piss first," I tell him.

"Off you go then!" he says, patting my bum. "I've already had one."

I wander along to the bathroom, suddenly aware of how noisy it is; the birds outside are going nuts! It's like that at school; at home in north London it's as silent as the grave at this time in the morning. I have to wait, like, forever for my dick to go down, but finally I'm able to pee. The job done, I wash my hands, splash some water over my face and make my way back to Rob's room. I slip back in under the covers.

"We can take our time this morning," he says quietly. "Nobody else will be awake for ages."

He gently eases my shorts down. He's wearing pyjama bottoms; they disappear just as quickly. We lie snuggled up together, fondling each other. I love the way Rob touches me, firm but gentle, just the way you'd expect him to be.

"I'm glad you came," he whispers. "You're the best mate I've got. I get on pretty well with the kids round here but because I'm away most of the time I'm not really mates with any of them, if you know what I mean."

I know exactly what he means; now Sean's gone I'm starting to feel like that about the gang back home. Of course, I don't know if he's doing stuff with any of the local kids; even if he is, I don't imagine it goes much past a bit of messing about.

"You're mine too," I say. "You're always there when I need you; that's what being mates is about."

There's no argument about it; my porn film wouldn't have got made if he hadn't agreed to do it. He didn't really want to, but he'd said he would, so he did it. And he didn't just go through the motions like a lot of people would have done; he did it brilliantly. I owe him big time for that; if he wants to fuck me three times a day for the next two weeks, I won't be complaining.

"Thanks," he says.

He leans forwards, resting his head on my tummy. He licks the end of my cock. Oh, yeah! That is nice! He gradually works his tongue right down my shaft and over my balls. Oooh! That's great! He takes my cock into his mouth, his lips sliding right down to the base. He begins to suck, but only slowly; he knows I'll cum if he overdoes it. He slips his hand between my legs, his fingers tickling the sensitive area behind my balls.

I pull my knees up to make it easier for him, resting my feet flat on the bed. He squeezes some KY onto his finger and touches my hole. Slowly but insistently he pushes it in. I stroke his hair, urging him to continue. Fuck! He can do this as much as he wants. A second finger joins the first, slowly twisting around to loosen my ring. Finally the fingers slide out.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yeah," I tell him. "How d'you want me?"

"The usual," he says.

I grab one of the pillows and put it in the middle of the bed. Rob takes an old towel out of his sports bag.

"Better put this here," he says, spreading it over the pillow, "I know what you're like!"

"Cheek!" I say, grinning.

"The other boys I do it with can't cum yet," he says by way of explanation. "I'm looking forward to this," he continues, "I gave Peter a right seeing-to the night before we left, but I never came at all yesterday."

I lie face down with the pillow under my hips. Rob gets between my legs, moving them wider apart. He lowers himself onto me, the head of his cock prodding at my hole. I reach back, pulling my bum-cheeks apart. He presses down. There's a slight stab of pain as his cock spears into me; it touches my prostate and the pain's forgotten. He settles on top of me, his firm, flat tummy pressed tight against my arse.

He draws back, leaving only the head of his cock inside me, pauses for a second, then plunges back down, his dick driving over my prostate on the way through. Oh, yes! He repeats the exercise, gradually building up the pace. He's a superb athlete, as good as anyone I know; he keeps right on building it up till he's fucking me senseless, pounding my arse as hard as he can. The intensity of it is unbelievable.

He's breathing hard now, his sexy boy-smell wafting up my nose, the force of his thrusts repeatedly driving my cock over the rough towel. Almost without warning, my whole body's wracked by convulsions, my legs flailing uncontrollably, my fingers clawing at the bed. My balls fire into action; a moment later my spunk squirts over and over onto the towel, making me all sticky. Rob's cock rears up deep inside me, his thick creamy spunk blasting into my bum.

Quite suddenly it's all over and everything's peaceful again, the only sound coming from the birds in the garden and the surrounding fields and woods. Man! That was as good a fuck as anyone's given me. Rob's still on top of me, totally spent, breathing like he's just run the four hundred metres or something. We're both covered in sweat.

Very slowly he lifts himself off, his cock making a slight pop as it comes out. I get off the bed and walk slowly towards the bathroom, taking my shorts with me. On my way, I let go a big fart, I just can't help it. Some of Rob's spunk splutters out and runs down my legs. Fuck! I am a mess! And I wouldn't have missed it for anything.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The morning's warm and sunny. We stroll into the centre of the village. Three boys are sitting on a bench looking out on the green.

We go over to them.

"Hi lads!" Rob says, "This is Toby, my mate from school. He's staying with us for a couple of weeks while his parents are in Egypt."

Rob introduces me to them and we shake hands. There's Neil, who's fifteen, quite a big lad with fair curly hair, David who's thirteen, and slim with short dark hair, and Jack who's nearly eleven. He's slim too, with collar length light brown hair and a cheeky smile; he's cute!

"Wanna play a bit of cricket?" Neil asks.

"Sure," I say, noting the bat and a proper cricket ball lying on the bench. "Where?"

"Out here," he says, "just on the edge of the square. As long as we stay off the pitch they've prepared for tomorrow's match, we'll be okay."

We wander out into the middle.

"Rob says you can bat a bit," Neil says.

"Yeah, I'm not bad," I say.

"Scored sixty two not out in our last match," Rob chimes in.

"Sixty two?" Neil says. "That's good whoever you're playing against."

"Yeah, but my highest score before that was fourteen," I say.

"You playing tomorrow?" Rob asks.

"Yeah," Neil replies, "Well, I'm making the numbers up. Bat down the order and probably won't get to bowl. That's okay; you've got to start somewhere. It's only the second time I've got to play with the big boys."

They produce a set of stumps and set them up right on the edge of the square.

"Okay," Neil says. "We're not using pads or anything so we only bowl gentle; we don't want anyone getting hurt. Wouldn't want to spoil your chances for later in life," he says, grinning and giving me a wink.

I can't help giggling; sod later in life; it's right now I'm worried about.

"You wanna bat first?" he asks me.

"Yeah, thanks."

Neil and Rob take it in turns bowling at me. They're only running in two or three strides, so they're very accurate but not at all threatening. I don't want to show off; I just keep punching the ball away, not trying to hit it too hard. I soon realise that against this sort of bowling I could bat all day if I wanted to.

Rob bowls to me again. Jack's fielding thirty odd yards away. I deliberately chip the ball high in the air, virtually straight to him; I want to see how he handles it. He steadies himself under it, watching it all the way. He takes it right in front of his eyes. As his hands ride with the ball he rolls onto his back, the ball clutched triumphantly to his chest. We all congratulate him; that was a very nice catch for a ten year old.

I wander away to do some fielding. I like Jack; he's not just cute, he's a good kid. If that catch had gone through his hands it could have broken his nose or knocked his teeth out. Mind you, he's obviously been taught properly; the way he took it was straight out of the text book.

We break for lunch around half past twelve and meet up again just before two. It's very warm; the sun's blazing down. We try a bit of catching practice. After half an hour it's even too hot for that. We settle ourselves under the biggest tree we can find and just chat about this and that.

After all the stuff we had on over the last few weeks at school, it feels great to just sit here and relax. It's certainly better than going to Egypt would have been. And I like these kids; they're okay, all three of them. I glance at Jack, trying not to make it too obvious, but he notices, although I don't think anyone else does. He gives me a knowing grin. I'm not sure what that means; nothing probably.

"Okay lads," Rob says eventually. "We're going to get off; we'll see you tomorrow.

Rob and I get to our feet and start heading back towards the house.

It's only just gone four; dinner won't be ready for a couple of hours yet. Still, I guess it'll be cooler indoors than out right at the moment. We've got about halfway back when Rob turns off along a track leading into the woods. Okay, so that was why we left early. I'm not complaining; I just hadn't seen it coming. I guess I should have done. He guides us into a small space that's completely surrounded by thick bushes.

"This remind you of somewhere you know?" he asks, grinning at me.

"Yeah," I say, "I guess that must be why we're here."

"Yeah, right!" he says, pulling me towards him and running his hands over my bum.

"Are you horny again already?" I ask mockingly.

"You bet I am!" he breathes. "It's been well over ten hours!"

"You brought some stuff?" I enquire.

"Of course," he says, his hard cock pressed against my tummy. "I've even brought some cotton wool for you."

Well that's a relief. I don't want his mum asking awkward questions about stains in my underpants; that would not be good.

"You can rest your hands on there," he tells me, indicating the remains of an old tree-stump right at the edge of our little hideaway.

I get into position. The stump's a little over a foot tall.

With my arms braced, my back's roughly parallel with the ground, just about ideal. Rob reaches round, undoing the button at the top of my shorts. He pulls down the zip and eases them over my hips. They fall to my feet. He makes short work of my briefs, skinning them down my legs until they're round my ankles.

"You can still see where I fucked you this morning," he observes, working some jelly into my hole. "It's just as well we haven't got anywhere to go skinny dipping round here; one of the other kids might notice."

In a way I wish he hadn't said that. I know he's right, but the idea of other boys being able to see that I've been bummed sets my teeth on edge; I'd rather not think about it.

His fingers slide out. Right, well now I'm going to get it again. He moves in close, his cock nuzzling against my ring. As he pushes forwards I relax; it slides right in. He holds me round the thighs and sets to work, building it up just like he did this morning. I'm definitely not complaining; I've got my best mate, who's very good looking and a superb athlete, and right now he's fucking me into the middle of next week. I can't tell you how good it feels; my dick's tingling like crazy.

"Play with my cock!" I moan.

He reaches down and takes it between his fingers. That's all in takes; within a few seconds I'm tingling all over, my muscles convulsing wildly. My cock swells and jerks, my spunk squirting onto the top of the tree stump. Rob slams into me, gripping my round the thighs.

"Oh, fuck!" he gasps. "Nnng!! Nnnng!! Aaaarrrggghhh!!!"

His spunk spurts over and over, filling me up. Man! That was intense!

He slowly pulls out.

"That was good, man!" he whispers. "I love to fuck!"

He hasn't told me anything I didn't know, but I don't care. I owe him one, and now's his time to collect. I squat down and let his spunk run out. He's cum loads, again! He passes me the cotton wool; I slip it into my briefs before pulling them up.

"Let's stay here for a bit," he says. "We've got ages yet and I want to ask you something."

We sit down on the ground, next to each other. Apart from having sex, it's a great place to be on a hot day like this, sheltered from the sun.

"Do you like Jack?" he asks.

"Yeah, sure," I say, not quite sure where this is going. "He's a good kid."

"I thought I saw you eyeing him up," he continues. "Are you interested?"

"Depends," I say. "What's the score?"

"He's away at boarding school like us. The Websters own the biggest place round here; they've been farming here for generations. Jack's dad's always moaning about how hard it is to make a living off the farm, but it's all bollocks; they're well loaded. Anyway, Jack likes it, you know. I said I'd ask you if it was okay for him to join us."

"Oh, I saw you chatting to him," I say, grinning. "I wondered what you were talking about. Yeah, sure, if he wants to come along, great; he's cute! So you've been with him before then?"

"Yeah, when I was home at half term," he says. "It was his idea!"

"Well, I don't imagine you took much persuading," I say, giggling. "So what about the other two?"

"Dunno," he says. "They just go to the local comprehensive school; well, it's about five miles away. Neil's dad's the farm manager, works for the Websters; David's mum and dad run the pub."

"Oh, right," I say absently. "So when are we going to do it?"

"Tomorrow, when the cricket match is on," he says. "Neil's playing, so he won't be around. David's dad will be playing too; he's opening bat, so between the innings David will have to help his mum serve tea and clear away afterwards. Nobody will notice if we disappear for a bit."

"Sounds good to me!" I say, smiling at him.

We get to out feet and stroll back towards the house. Things are getting better all the time; now I'm really glad I didn't go to Egypt. Having some fun with a cute kid like Jack, what a bonus that's going to be!

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It seems like the entire village is involved in the cricket match it some way. Those that aren't actually playing are here supporting, or selling refreshments, or, they're just, you know, here. There's a sort of party atmosphere. Living in London, I've never been to anything like this before; it's fun.

The opposition come from a village about three miles away and the local rivalry is taken very seriously on the field and in a very light hearted way off it. And the weather couldn't be better, sunny and very warm, but not quite as hot as it was yesterday. A large group has gathered outside the pub; they seem to be having a high old time.

We settle down to watch, sitting on the grass right at the edge of the green. The home team are batting first. The two openers stride out to the middle. The crowd outside the pub cheer uproariously.

"That's David's dad," Rob says quietly, indicating the guy who's gone to the end closest to where we're sitting.

He's big; not just tall but quite heavily built, nothing like David. A moment later the match is under way. The first thing that strikes me is that although this is only village cricket, the standard's not bad at all. Their opening bowler's a big guy too, mid twenties or maybe a bit older. He makes Devon Moseley look slow! Now I understand what Neil meant about 'playing with the big boys'.

The match ebbs and flows. A couple of wickets go down, then the home team get back into it and start to get on top. Then they lose another wicket; that's how it goes on. David's dad can certainly bat. He's not that good to watch, rather awkward-looking, but when he gets hold of one, he's very powerful. But he's out eventually, the fourth to go. A boy a few years older than us strides out to take his place, tall, blond and very good looking.

"That's Jack's brother," Rob says quietly.

"So how old is he?" I enquire.

"Gideon's sixteen," Jack informs me.

I settle down to watch. He bats left handed, the same as I do, and he looks very good; plays some beautiful shots. He's getting some enthusiastic support from the crowd too, especially the guys outside the pub. Then the big opening bowler comes back on. At first Gideon seems to play him okay, but then the guy digs one in a bit, not really short, just back of a length. Gideon tries to play a normal back-foot defensive shot, but the ball climbs on him and he edges it to third slip. He trudges off.

Neil appears shortly afterwards, at the fall of the next wicket. He doesn't last too long; he plays one or two nice shots then the big guy accounts for him as well.

The innings ends around ten minutes later. David scurries off to help his mum, leaving Rob, Jack and myself to our own devices. We're all set; there's no need to say anything; we just slip away. A few minutes later we're manoeuvring ourselves into our hideaway out in the woods.

"Rob says you like doing sex stuff," Jack says, eyeing me up.

"Yeah," I say. "What about you?"

"Oh, I like it!" he says, grinning.

"So d'you do it at school?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says.

"So how long have you been doing it?"

"Since last September; when we got back to school after the summer holiday, I'd suddenly got all these older boys after me. It was quite cool in a way, but it was a bit scary; they were all so much bigger than me. Anyway, after a week or so I picked one and we've been doing stuff together ever since.

"Oh, right!" I say, smiling at him. "So old is he?"

"Barrington's thirteen," he says. "He just left. I had to pick one of the biggest boys, otherwise there could have been a fight over it. It was okay though; he's really nice."

"It's not really like that at our school," I say quietly.

"I know," he says, "Rob's been telling me, you know about having rules on who they can go with and all that stuff. I wish our place was more like that; it was like being in a cattle market."

"So what d'you like doing?"

"Everything!" he says, his eyes sparkling. "Rob says you do too."

"Pretty much," I concede. "Come on then, let's get these clothes off!"

We help each other strip off while Rob watches. Finally Jack pulls my underpants down.

"Nice dick!" he breathes.

He reaches out and fondles it. I don't know why, but there's something about the way younger kids do it that makes me tingle all over; it feels fantastic. He drops onto his knees and takes it into his mouth, the head touching the back of his throat. He sucks on it with long even strokes, running his tongue all over it. Oh, fuck!

I'll cum before I want to if he keeps this up. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Rob, who's stripped completely naked, playing with his hard cock while he watches us. Jack lets me go and licks his lips.

"I guess you want some now," he says cheekily, turning to Rob.

I move to one side, allowing Rob to take my place. Man! This kid can suck! Rob's quite a bit bigger down there than I am, but he's sucking it right down to the root. He's taking it down his throat; he has to be. It's one of the hottest things I've ever seen. After a couple of minutes he pulls away and gets to his feet. After what we've just been doing I'm surprised to find he's still got his briefs on. I slip them down his legs.

His cock's still soft, slim and uncut with a nozzle of foreskin sticking out. It suits him perfectly.

"So who's going to get me hard?" he asks, grinning at us.

I'm on the job before Rob has chance to move, kneeling in front of the kid and sucking him right into my mouth. He tastes as good as he looks, and in little more than five seconds he's as hard as a rock. He holds my head, urging me to keep going. As I continue to suck, I run my hand between his legs until I touch his hole. Rob passes me the KY. I smear some onto my finger and stuff it into the kid's cute little bum.

"Are you going to bum me?" he asks. "Rob said you would. I love being bummed!"

"Sure, if that's what you want," I say, releasing his cock and grinning up at him.

"I want you both to do it!" he says excitedly.

He gets into position bent over the tree-stump, just like I was yesterday. He's got the cutest, most perfect bum ever; I can't wait to fuck him. Rob and I don't say anything; there's no need. I'll go first because I'm smaller. Rob hands me the KY again. I squeeze some onto my fingers, quickly working some more into Jack's bum and smearing the rest over my dick. I move in close and stuff it right up him.

"Oooh!" he groans. "That's great!"

I hold him round the hips and slowly pull back until only the head's left inside him, pause for a moment then quickly stuff it right in again, savouring the tightness of the hot little sheath that's gripping my cock. This is first fuck I've had since I got here, for it to be a kid as cute as Jack is a real gas. I keep pulling back, pausing and stuffing it in, gradually building it up, the withdrawals getting quicker, the pauses shorter. Within a couple of minutes I'm pounding his cute little arse as hard as I can go.

"Oh, Oh yeah!" he moans. "Do it Toby! Bum me harder!"

I would if I could, but I'm already giving it all I've got. It doesn't matter anyway; my balls are starting to churn.

I thrust right in, holding his bum tight against my tummy. My cock explodes, depositing four or five jets of spunk deep inside him. Man! That was something else! I slowly pull out, my cock glistening with a mixture of lube and spunk.

Rob quickly replaces me. Now he really can fuck; he makes me look like a pussycat. He gets straight to it, bumming him stupid, his cock stretching the kid's bum-hole like you wouldn't believe.

"Oh! Oh, that's fantastic! Jack gasps. "Come on, Rob! Give me your spunk too!"

I reach out and play with Jack's cock. It twitches between my fingers. A moment later his whole body bucks violently, his dick swelling and jerking until it finally subsides. I let it go; I know how sensitive it must be. He's taken Rob right over the edge.

He slams right into the kid and gives him what he wants. After a few seconds later he eases his way out, his cock emerging with a quite audible pop.

We start to get dressed, Jack making no attempt to clean up.

"Aren't you going to... you know?" I ask.

"Nah!" he says, grinning at me. "I love having my bum full of spunk!"

Rob hands him some cotton wool. He slips it inside his underpants. A minute later we're strolling back to the village. We watch the rest of the cricket match like nothing's happened. Fuck! I can hardly wait to do that again!

33

Well, we did get together with Jack again, several times in fact. Not as often as we'd have liked, but there was the problem of making sure Neil and David didn't start asking awkward questions. From what Jack told us, it seems there could have been a lot of trouble if they'd found out what we were up to. Actually, that was quite good, in a way; the fact that we couldn't do it all the time made it seem extra special when we did do it. I love kids like Jack, so cute and sexy!

In between times, Rob fucked my brains out. We chatted about it one evening. He was quite emphatic that he didn't want anyone to fuck him, and said that he was sure that when he's older he'll get married and have kids of his own. He asked about me; I said I didn't know, which isn't a lie exactly, but I can't see me ever doing that.

Then it was off for three weeks at the holiday centre. I was in the big dorm again, and the first person I saw when I walked in was Ben. He knew I was coming and had saved me the bed next to his. We greeted each other like long lost brothers, and pretty much picked things up where we left them last year.

He's still small and slim, and loves having sex as much as ever. Jake's too old now, and there was no sign of either Sam or Eliot. We'd got a new canoe instructor too, so there was nothing doing on that front. And there were no idiots like Roderick about either.

So it was just me and Ben. It may sound strange, but it suited me perfectly. I did my canoeing in the mornings, I played some table tennis which I'm getting pretty good at, and I read, of course; I have to do that. I read 'A Kestrel for a Knave', the book on which the film 'Kes' is based.

I loved it, it's even better than the film. And I read 'Tortilla Flat' by John Steinbeck. That was hard; I'm not sure I really understood it. In between times, Ben and I were inseparable. When we weren't having sex, we just hung out together. Just being with him felt so good, so relaxed; I didn't even look at anyone else. Steve, the centre manager, said I seemed much calmer and more grown-up. He was right, of course, but a lot of it was down to having Ben there.

And finally I went to stay with Uncle Andrew. He'd just got back from the States. Man! You should see the stuff he's brought back! The latest clothes, original art works that he got in San Francisco and albums by people whose stuff hasn't been released over here yet.

There was one album by a group called The Pointer Sisters. I didn't think I'd like it when he showed me the sleeve; four girls singing together, it sounded like the Supremes or something, but when he played it to me it was like, wow!! Man! They are something else!

The trip to Pinewood was amazing. We were allowed to go onto the set of one of the new films that's being made there 'cause Uncle Andrew knows the director; we even had lunch with the crew. I was spellbound. I've known for ages that I wanted to be a film director, but it's different now. Being a film director is what I have to do; there just isn't anything else. And nothing's going to stop me, you can be sure of that.

So I'm back at school pottering about in the dorm getting ready for the start of the new term. This is it, my final year here, Common Entrance, Public Schools Scholarship, rugby, cricket, making more films and having sex. It's going to be a busy time, but I'm ready for it. Spending those three weeks with Ben has helped a lot; I feel relaxed and ready to go. I've just finished sorting my stuff out when Justin appears.

"Tigger!" I say, slapping hands with him. "How's it going, man? Had a good holiday?"

"Yeah!" he answers, giving me a big grin. "Great thanks! You?"

"Yeah, man! Pretty good!"

One thing we managed to fix up at the end of last term, when Mr. Halford was in a better mood than he often is, was for Justin to move into our dorm with John Rudman moving the across to Cavendish. So now we've got our little gang in here altogether, me, Rob, Will and Justin. Justin seems to have grown a lot over the holidays; he looks like six inches taller. I'm sure he's not; it's just that I'd never really noticed before. He's a great kid, very bright and a real good laugh; you'd never guess his dad was one step away from being made a bishop.

Finally everybody's back and it's time to go down to supper. We've got two new boys in Upper Fourth, Marcus Northam and Teddy Larsen, both in Rutherford dorm. That's nothing unusual; kids come and go every year.

Marcus is quite big, looks like he could be a useful addition to the rugby team. Teddy's about the same height as me, slim and blond. He's not cute exactly, but not bad looking either; it's hard to describe. He looks awkward and out of place. Mr. Halford introduces them and asks us to make them welcome and help them settle in.

I'll make sure I do that; partly 'cause I want to find out about them, and partly to make sure they understand the way things work in this place.

After supper we sit around in the dorm catching up, chatting about what we did during the holidays, all the usual stuff. Apart from staying with Uncle Andrew and my trip to Pinewood I keep pretty quiet about what I got up to, but that's okay. Almost before we know it, it's bedtime.

We make our way along for our evening shower. As Justin didn't used to be in our dorm, I haven't seen him naked since the end of the rugby season back before Easter. I do a double-take; I know the rest of him's grown quite a bit, but down there he's grown out of all recognition! His dick and balls are almost as big as Rob's and there's some sandy coloured hair growing above them, not that much, but it's a hell of a lot more than I've got. And he is a lot taller than he was. I wonder what he's going to do when it comes to the rugby trials; he won't be able to play hooker any more; he's too tall.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As Rob, Paz and myself were the only ones going with younger boys last year, it's down to us to decide who's going to be in charge this year. Paz doesn't want to do it and I don't have the time.

That leaves Mr. Robert Shearsby as the only candidate. That's cool; there isn't actually a rule about it, but the job always seems to go to either the rugby captain or the cricket captain. Rob's going to be rugby captain; I've no idea who the cricket captain's going to be; I hope Mr. Halford doesn't ask me to do it. So having Rob in charge of 'unofficial activities' is probably what the other boys will expect.

It should work well in any case; Rob's firm and fair and all the other lads respect him for it. He's got two main responsibilities.

First is to make sure that there's no free-for-all and no arguments and that everything is kept as quiet and discreet as possible. But everyone knows that things have to be like that, so it's not that difficult as long as you keep on top of it. The day-to-day responsibility is to make sure that we don't have people turning up at the same place at the same time. Now that is important; all hell could break loose if he got it wrong.

We sit in the dorm together, drawing up a weekly planning grid, with the various locations set out across the top and days and times down the left hand side. All he'll have to do then is to fill in the names as the various slots get booked. We're not making any secret of it; there's no need to. Even the boys like Paul who aren't involved know what goes on; they probably also know that Rob's in charge. But it's nothing to do with them, so they mind their own business and say nothing; that's how things work here.

"Toby," Rob says quietly. "D'you mind if I ask you something?"

"Course not," I say, "Ask away."

"You've been going with two younger boys, haven't you?" he continues. "How are you going to manage now that you won't be able to use the science block toilets after breakfast?"

"Dunno exactly," I say, screwing my face up. "It should be okay for the first couple of weeks, but once things get going it'll be pretty tight. If you can give me four slots each week, that'll be two for Ian and two for Alex, then I'll have one session a week you know where; I guess they'll have to take it in turns. It's less than I'd like, but it's all I'm going to get, isn't it? I can't ask you for any more slots; it wouldn't be fair.

"Why are you asking, anyway?"

"I've got a bit of a problem," he says. "It's Peter. Oh he's great sex and that, and he always turns up, but it's like we really don't have anything in common. He turns up to watch me play rugby and cricket but he's not really interested, not like Ian; he seems really keen. Anyway, there's someone else I really want to go with."

"So who's the lucky boy?" I ask.

"Darren Proctor," he says sheepishly. "I wanted to go with him most of last year but I couldn't because he was with Julian, but now Julian's left, well... and I know he's pretty keen on the idea; I've asked him."

"You'll need to keep it very quiet," I tell him. "You're in charge so you have to set the standard."

"And I wouldn't give myself extra slots," he says. "That definitely wouldn't be right. D'you think I should tell Peter?"

"That's up to you," I say, trying to sound non-committal. "But things might get even more awkward if you don't."

"I'll think about it," he says, looking uncomfortable.

We stash the planning grid in his locker. That was a bit of a surprise, but it was on the cards, to be honest. Rob's right about Peter; apart from having sex he doesn't show much interest in anything. And I can't fault Rob's taste in boys. Darren's one of the best looking kids in the school and stands a good chance of making both rugby and cricket teams; I'd go with him any time!

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The rugby trials have gone very smoothly. The pack sorted itself out in no time. Adam Hayward will play loose-head prop, the same as last year, with Grant at tight-head. Between the two prop-forwards is the hooker. I wasn't at all sure who that was going to be. To play as hooker you need to be fairly short, stockily built but not too heavy, and as brave as a lion. Being a bit mad probably helps too; it's the most dangerous position on the pitch. Lee Sheldon fits the bill perfectly. That makes up an impressive front-row, much better than we had last year.

Marcus, the new kid, has slotted into the second row, where Max used to play. He's not as big as Max, but he pushes much harder. He's partnered by Tom Goddard, another kid who's grown a lot over the past year. Justin's taken over Rob's old position as open-side flanker, with Chris Barnett from Lower Fourth as blind-side flanker and Rob playing between them at number eight.

This is looking good; it's a far stronger pack than we had last year. I'd be surprised if any team pushes us off the ball this season. Darren Proctor was the obvious choice to replace Julian at fly half; I knew he'd get that slot. He's good, too; I'm really looking forward to working with him.

The one area where we aren't as strong as last year is in the three-quarter line. Alex has got in at outside-centre and he deserves his place, but he's still got a year's growing to do; he's not as strong as Brian or Ashton were. The same goes for Evan Williamson on the right wing. He's good, but he doesn't have quite the turn of speed that Jonathan had. Paz is still at left wing though, and he's looking better than ever.

Two more boys from Upper Fourth complete the line-up: James Corless at inside-centre and Tony Stevenson at full-back. It's pretty good; we'll have to see how we go.

The showers after the trials are interesting; I don't usually check the other boys out that much, but right now there are quite a few I haven't seen for a while. Most of them are a bit bigger than they were, which is what you'd expect, I guess. Marcus is pretty big down there, much as I'd expected; he's got some hair too. The one real shock is Adam. He's built like a brick outhouse but he's only the same height as me. Man! He's got a monster! I've never seen anything like it on a kid our age.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Rob and I stroll out across the field with Marcus in tow. Now he's made it into the rugby team we need to get to know him; at the moment he's a bit of a mystery. Just about everyone else here lives within forty or fifty miles; living in north London, my journey is one of the longest. Marcus is from somewhere near Birmingham, well over a hundred miles away.

He's not the slightest bit posh either; he's got a Birmingham accent you could cut lumps off. There's nobody else here like him. He's in the top group for maths and science, but struggling to cope, and in the bottom group for everything else. So why's he here? I'd like to find out, if he's willing to tell us. We settle ourselves on the grass.

"So how are you settling in?" Rob asks.

"Not bad," he says. "Great rugby team; I can't wait to get playing. The work's hard though; I'm not a brain-box like you two."

"So what brought you here?" I ask.

"That's a long story," he says defensively.

"We've got time," I say. "And don't worry; we're not going to spread it all over the school, whatever it is; we're not like that."

"Well, it goes back a couple of years," he says. "I've always been big for my age; I guess I've always been a bit wild too. It was okay when dad was alive, he kept me in check. He was a precision engineer, ran his own business; did pretty well too. Anyway he wasn't the sort of dad you wanted to get in trouble with, you know? But then he got killed. He'd been out drinking and tried to drive home. Driving too fast, smashed into a tree, that's what the coppers said.

"Well mum went to pieces and I just ran riot; I was in trouble all the time, getting into fights, all sorts. So it was decided it'd be better I went to boarding school. Well, money wasn't a problem 'cause we'd got dad's life insurance, so that's what happened. I loved it! I'd never played rugby before; I took to it like a duck to water. I was doing okay in class too; the work we got wasn't half as hard as it is here."

"So what happened?" I ask.

"Got thrown out," he says, looking embarrassed.

"Really?" I say. "What for?"

"Doing what you guys seem to do," he replies cryptically.

Rob and I look at each other, not at all sure what he's on about.

"Uh?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Got caught having sex with one of the younger kids," he says, giving us a wry grin.

"Fuck, man!" I say. "That's tough."

"Yeah, well I had just screwed the kid, so I guess they didn't have too much choice." He pauses for a moment.

"I mean, I wasn't the only one doing it," he continues, "but it wasn't anything like it seems to be here. Well, after I got kicked out none of the other schools round our way would have me. Then someone suggested this place. They don't seem to worry about it here like they did at my old school."

"They don't as long as you keep it quiet," I tell him. "Your mistake wasn't having sex; it was getting caught. Remember the eleventh commandment: thou shalt not be found out. Just stick to the rules and you'll be fine."

"Yeah, well I guess that's fair enough," he says grinning. "I just wish I could find a boy here to do it with, but it's not easy, being new. I don't know them and they don't know me. I mean, I can't just go and ask one, can I? He might freak out."

"I might be able to help you out there," I say, looking him right in the eye.

"Really?" he says, eyeing me up like he doesn't actually believe it.

"As long as you don't mind hand-me-downs from boys who left in the summer," I say coolly.

"Doesn't bother me," he says. "As long as they're nice looking and like doing it, I couldn't care less. The kid I got caught with had been with at least two other boys before I did him."

"Great," I say. "You don't mind them being really skinny do you?"

"Man, they're the best!" he says, grinning at me. "Nice tight arses! So why hasn't somebody grabbed them?"

"Oh, it's an odd tradition we have here," I say. "When one of us is looking for a younger boy, we're supposed to pick one who's never done it before. The ones who've had older friends before are regarded as 'soiled goods', you know, second best. I think it's stupid."

"It's mad," he says in his strongest Birmingham accent. "I think it's better if they know what they're doing."

"Well, leave it with me," I say. "I'll let you know."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I meet Ian after supper as arranged. He follows me to the attic, keeping a discreet distance behind me, and checking to make sure nobody's paying us any attention. So far, I've managed to have sex every day since we got back, alternating between Alex and Ian.

That's been possible because there are only a few boys on the list at the moment and in any case the weather's been good so we've been able to use the places outside. I need to make the most of it; once the weather starts getting cold and there are more boys on the list, four slots a week is all I can expect to get, just like I discussed with Rob.

We gently undress each other then sit there cuddling and fondling. Just being with Ian or Alex makes me feel so good; strong, relaxed, in control. I can't really explain why; that's just how it is. At other times I believe that I can do anything I want if I put my mind to it; when I'm with them I know I can.

"I never did anything all through the summer holidays!" Ian says, grinning and looking me right in the eye. "Not once!"

"Well, we'd better make up for it then," I say quietly, stroking his hair.

Our lips meet, quite gently at first, but after a few seconds he's all over me, one hand playing with my cock, the other massaging my back, his tongue pushed deep into my mouth. Man! He is so sexy!

We pull apart slightly. His eyes are sparkling. I flick my tongue out and lick his cute little nose. In an instant his head's in my lap, his tongue working overtime on my cock before pushing down to work it's way over my balls. Finally he takes me into his mouth, gradually working his way down till he's sucking it right to the root. It feels fantastic, all the tiredness from a day in class and a hard training session just melting away.

He gives me one last lick then looks up, giving me the most beautiful smile I'll ever see.

"You're unbelievable," I whisper. "Right, my turn now!"

I get myself into position, opening my mouth wide.

I plunge down on his little package, sucking his cock and balls at the same time, working my tongue all over them. I run my fingers along the inside of his thighs. His skin feels like silk, so soft and smooth. I slip my hand between his legs, my lubed-up finger quickly finding his hole. After a couple of seconds I push inside. He thrusts his hips forwards, stuffing his hard little bullet deeper into my mouth. I push a second finger in; he thrusts harder. I let him go; it's time to do it.

"Get on all fours," I tell him.

He gets into position. I quickly smear KY over my dick and crawl in close. One hard push and I'm inside him.

"Oooh, Toby!" he gasps. "I love having your dick up my bum!"

A moment later we're fucking. I build it up until I'm pounding his arse to a pulp; he's moaning, gasping, begging for more. I play with his cock. He shudders, his bum tightening round my dick, his hard little weapon jerking between my fingers.

"Ohhh!" I gasp. "Nnng!! Nnnng!! Ooooooohhhh!!!"

My dick jumps up with a life of its own, my spunk unloading inside him in four or five sticky jets. For a few seconds I stay where I am, trying to get my breathing back under control. Wow! That was fantastic, exactly what I needed. I don't care how often I do it; I'll always be back for more. I gently pull out.

We flop down next to each other, my arm round his shoulder.

"Was that good?" he asks quietly.

"Amazing," I tell him. "You're something else."

"Thanks," he says grinning.

"Has Gavin found another older boy yet?" I ask.

"No," Ian says. "He asked Adam Hayward, but he said he'd already got somebody."

I knew about that; it seems Lee Sheldon beat him to it. Lee and Gavin are mad; Adam's not just built like a tank, he looks like one. And even I'd think twice about taking a dick that size up my bum.

"Have you seen the new boy that's in the rugby team?" I ask.

"Quite big, dirty fair hair and freckles," Ian says, describing Marcus exactly.

"He'd like to meet Gavin," I say.

"Cool!" Ian says, smiling at me. "Has he got a big one?"

"Big enough," I say, grinning back. "As big as Max was anyway. Tell Gavin to meet us after classes tomorrow, about quarter to four, where I just met you."

"Okay," Ian says, "I'll tell him."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Rob and I study the list. With Marcus added to it there are seven of us, all members of the rugby team. One odd thing that's happened this year is that out of the six Lower Fourth boys who've made it onto the team, three are still going with older boys; Alex with me, Darren with Rob, both unofficially of course, and Lee with Adam.

The only one who's asked to be added to the list is Chris Barnett, who's fixed himself up with a third year boy. That's no surprise; Chris is big for his age, much like Rob was, and a good looking boy.

I can't place the kid he's going with; I don't know the younger boys that well. Tom Goddard from Upper Fourth has bagged a third year boy too, another kid I don't know. That's not a surprise either. He wasn't going with anyone last year, but it seems that two years ago he was the younger friend of one of Russell's mates. Paz is still with Simon Whitney and that makes up the seven.

So right now there are plenty of slots; Rob and I could still have sex every day even if it was pissing down with rain.

It will change though; a few of the lads just haven't sorted themselves out yet. Last year it was ten. I'm hoping it won't be any more than that or things will get very tight.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Marcus and I wait outside the main building, by the side entrance that takes you directly up to the dorm corridor. I'm a bit nervous; all I know about Gavin is that he's pretty wild, he gets into trouble even more than I used to. I'm not sure how good he is at turning up when he's supposed to. A minute later he appears, walking towards us.

"This is him," I say quietly. "Okay?"

"He'll do for me!" Marcus confirms, grinning back at me.

"Okay, you're up in the attic, where I showed you. He'll know where it is; I'll leave you to it. When you've finished, if I'm not in the recreation room I'll be in the dorm. Come and see me, okay?"

"Yeah, cool," he says.

I leave him to get to know his new friend.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I'm lying on my bed reading 'Brighton Rock'. There's a tap on the door and Marcus walks in. He strolls across and parks himself on Rob's bed. He's grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"So how did it go?" I enquire.

"Fantastic!" he whispers, although there's no-one else in the room. "He is so sexy! Beautiful little body! He hadn't had anything all over the summer so he was really tight; I had to use loads of lube on him. But once I got going he couldn't get enough of it. Thanks, man! I really owe you for that!"

"Yeah, well maybe you can pay me back later," I say. "But just remember what we told you. He's yours now, so you stick with him. You don't go with any other younger kids unless Rob says you can. And no turning up in places you're not supposed to be. Rob will ban you if you do that, okay?"

"That's fine with me," he says, grinning. "Having a kid like him all to myself is a lot more than I thought I'd get."

"And just one more thing," I say. "Gavin's in trouble just about all the time. You need to look after him; help him to stay out of trouble rather than letting him get you into it."

"Yeah, I'll remember that," he says, nodding.

He goes on his way. I will ask him to pay me back later; I'm not ready right now.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Justin comes and sits on my bed. He's looking nervous.

"What's the problem, Tigger?" I ask.

He checks to make sure there's no-one else in the room.

"This morning I woke up early," he says quietly. "Was I hallucinating or was Rob in bed with Will?"

"You were hallucinating," I say, grinning. "No, actually you weren't; they do that quite often."

"Really?" he says breathily, his eyes widening. "It looked like Rob was, you know..."

"Yeah, he probably was," I say casually. "It's okay; Will loves it. I do it with him sometimes, only I don't spend the night there. I move around too much; I'd fall out."

I glance down; Justin's got a very obvious hard-on.

"You could join in if you wanted to," I continue. "Will loves being bummed."

"I don't know," he says, screwing his face up. "We've been mates for so long; I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it with him."

"Martin's the other possibility," I say. "He wouldn't kick you out either."

"Wow!" he says. "I'd no idea he liked doing that! So have you done him then?"

"Yeah, so has Rob," I say. "I haven't had him this term though; I've been too busy. I'm not sure if Rob has. Ask him; he won't say no, I promise."

"I will," he says, looking embarrassed. "Thanks."

He lowers his voice. "Of course what I'd really like is to find a younger boy to do it with."

"Well," I say, grinning. "If you want one who's never been with an older boy before, you're on your own."

"Dunno," he says, looking puzzled. "I know that's what we're supposed to do, Tom told me. But it doesn't matter really, does it?"

"Then I might be able to help you," I say. "In fact, you could end up with one of the cutest kids in the school."

"Come on, Toby," he says, giggling. "Stop fooling about; I'm not going to get anyone like that!"

"You'd be surprised," I tell him.

"So who then?" he demands, still giggling.

"Patrick Naylor," I tell him.

"Patrick?!" he says, his eyes in serious danger of falling out. "He's beautiful!"

"Yeah, well last year he was going with Brian Harper. Right now he seems to be at something of a loose end."

"I still can't believe he'd want to go with me," he says.

"It's not all about looks," I say, "especially not with someone like him. You're not bad looking in any case. I'm nothing special and I've not had a problem."

"I'm too shy," he protests. "I'd love to go and ask him but I'd get too embarrassed."

"Okay, leave it to me," I say grinning. "I'll see what I can fix up."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I stroll along towards the art room. I reach the door; there's no sign of anybody. Shit! I hate having to wait; it makes me paranoid. Half a minute later Patrick appears, bang on time, I like that. And Justin's right; he is stunning.

"You said you wanted to see me," he says nervously.

"Yeah, somewhere private," I say. "I need to ask you something."

I let us into the trunk store, closing the door behind us.

"I've never been here before," he says, looking round. "I didn't know we could."

"Well, officially, we can't," I say, smiling at him. "I'm not going to tell you the details, but I managed to get hold of a key. You are now one of a very small number that knows about it. So as far as anyone else is concerned, you haven't been here, okay? We talked out there on the corridor."

"Yeah, cool," he says, giving me a beautiful smile.

We park ourselves sitting side by side on the trunk.

"So how are things going this year?" I ask.

"Okay, thanks," he says.

"Have you found yourself a new friend yet?"

"No," he says, looking a bit embarrassed. "The older lads all want a boy who hasn't been with anyone before."

"Well, some of them do," I concede. "But a very good friend of mine would love to meet you. He's never been with a boy before and unfortunately, he's very shy. So I said I'd ask you. His name's Justin; he plays in the rugby team."

"Justin?" he says. "Is that Tigger, the boy who took that amazing catch in the cricket match?"

"Yes, that's him," he says, slightly surprised that he knows about it.

"Everyone says he's really nice."

"Yeah, he is," I confirm. "He'll really look after you."

"Isn't his dad a bishop or something?"

"Close; he's Dean of Salisbury Cathedral."

"That's funny!" he says, grinning at me. "You know!" he pauses for a moment.

"I need someone like that," he continues, sounding serious again. "Brian was great. People said he was arrogant and full of himself, but he was never like that when he was with me."

"I think you must have been good for him," I say, smiling at him.

"Thanks!" he says.

"You know," he says, "When I first came here I really wanted to go with you. Lee took me to watch the first rugby match. You were the smallest kid on the pitch, but you didn't seem to care; you went tackling boys who were much bigger than you were. I thought you were very brave; I couldn't have done that. I told Lee that I fancied you, but he said you'd already got somebody else."

"Yeah, I guess I had by then," I confirm, rather taken aback by the direction the conversation's heading."If I hadn't, I'd have gone with you like a shot. But that's how it goes; we can't have everything. Anyway, it seems it all worked out okay."

"Yeah," he says quietly, sounding a bit disappointed.

"So are you okay about meeting Justin?" I ask.

"Yeah," he confirms.

"Okay," I say. "Tomorrow lunchtime, as soon as he bell goes, we'll be by the main door out onto the playground. It looks like it's going to be warm again, so follow Justin round behind the pavilion. Have you been there before?"

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "Brian and I went there a few times."

"Cool," I say. "We'll see you then."

He makes no attempt to move. I glance down; he's as hard as a chocolate frog. I take a deep breath; if I follow this through, I'm going to break every rule there is. But I'm only going to do it once, so fingers crossed, I'll get away with it. I swallow hard.

"Is there something else you want?" I ask, putting my hand on his thigh.

He nods, reaching across to help me off with my sweater.

"Patrick," I say quietly, looking right into his eyes. "If we do this, you mustn't say a word to anybody. It never happened, okay?"

"Yes, I know," he says, smiling. "This is just between us, you and me."

We gently undress each other until we're down to our underpants. He's one of the most beautiful boys I've ever seen; I can hardly believe we're doing it. He runs his slim fingers over my chest. Oh, fuck!

"I've waited a whole year for this," he says, almost killing me with his beautiful smile.

We pull each other's briefs down, leaving us naked apart from our socks. His cock's still quite small, around three inches, slim and uncut; it looks perfect on him. I'd like to have him on the bed but there's no time for that now. I pull him towards me, our mouths meeting in a wonderful, sensuous kiss, his fingers running down my back and over my bum, his sexy boy-smell making me feel giddy.

"You're amazing!" I breathe. "Gorgeous! Justin's a very lucky boy."

"Are you going to bum me?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Is that what you want?" I ask.

"Yes," he says. "Please, Toby."

I retrieve the pillow from its hiding place behind the bed and place it on the old desk. Patrick gets into position without me even having to ask him. His bum is as beautiful as the rest of him, absolutely perfect. It's as well that I always carry some lube with me, even if the tube I've got at the moment is almost empty. I take it from the pocket of my shorts and carefully work some into him.

I squeeze the tube again, managing to extract a little more. I smear it over my dick. I take another deep breath. I've been dreaming about this for months. That must seem wrong when I've got Ian and Alex, but I can't help it; that's how it is. I guide my dick onto its target and push hard. It spears into him.

"Oh, Toby!" he gasps, "I can feel you inside me!"

I hold him around the tops of his thighs and slowly pull him onto me until my tummy's pressed tight against his bum. I pause for a moment to settle myself then set to work, bumming him quite gently at first. Gradually I build it up, fucking him harder, fucking him deeper, fucking him longer, the intensity increasing with every thrust. I've wanked myself stupid dreaming of this more times than I could count; right now I'm out on another planet, still scarcely able to believe I'm finally doing it.

Patrick's moaning quietly, a sure sign of how much he's enjoying the prostate massage my dick's giving him. I wrap my fingers round his cock; it's hard and throbbing.

I thrust even harder. He whimpers; a moment later he shudders violently as the muscle spasms sweep over him. Our orgasms are just about simultaneous, his cock jumping around in my hand as my spunk blasts over and over into his bum. The best fuck ever? I'm not sure, but it's definitely right up there; nothing could beat the way that felt, it just isn't possible.

I help him to clean up then we quickly climb back in our clothes.

After one final kiss, we go our separate ways.

34

With Justin added to the list, there are now eight of us. Even so, the weather's still good, so I can have sex pretty well whenever I want, which is every day with either Ian or Alex, three nights a week with Will and Sunday mornings with Rob. I wasn't sure if he'd want to carry on doing that. He does, and that's fine with me.

I'd love to be able to tell the other lads about my encounter with Patrick down in the trunk store. I can't, of course. Patrick hasn't breathed a word and I'm not going to either; that's how it has to be. There was something odd about that, and it's been bugging me ever since. When I bummed him, although he was still very tight, it wasn't like he hadn't taken it recently.

Well, he hadn't been with anyone in Upper Fourth or I'd have known about it. That suggests some night-time get togethers with one of his friends from Priestley, the dorm they've moved to now they're in Lower Fourth. It's unlikely to be Lee, who is still very small in the dick department, and from what Paz has told me I don't think it'd be Simon.

That leaves Deon Hayes. Now Deon looks like a smaller version of his brother, much smaller; he can't be more than 4'9". Mind you, the family resemblance ends there; although he always came to support Jonathan, Deon's not into sport at all.

He's reckoned to be one of the cleverest kids the school's ever had; he wants to be a nuclear physicist. It's all he seems to be interested in; we call him the Mad Scientist. But anyway, he's quite a bit smaller than Patrick, so you wouldn't expect him to have that much down there, but Ashton did, so maybe he does too. It's an interesting thought.

Of course Justin's like a dog with two tails. He absolutely dotes on Patrick, which is hardly surprising. He's been spending a few nights with Martin too. He hasn't said anything about it, but I've noticed them a couple of times when I've woken early.

Some of these religious nutters tell you, "Oh, you shouldn't be having sex at your age, it'll distract you from your studies." What a load of bollocks! Justin's working harder than he ever has, so am I for that matter. Tigger's under a lot of pressure this year; he's going in for Public School Scholarship and his mum and dad expect him to get one.

I've had another letter from Denmark asking about the next film. The truth is I haven't done anything about it yet. I've virtually promised Peter he can be in it, but I've got to find another boy to do it with him. Gavin would do it without even thinking about it, but I'm planning on using him and Marcus, probably for the next one. Lee would have done it too, but now he's with Adam I can forget that idea; Adam definitely wouldn't like it.

Let's just say that Adam and I have a lot of respect for each other; we're mates on the rugby field and I want it to stay that way. He wouldn't pick a fight with me and I'm not going to pick one with him. So that leaves Ian and Alex. I really don't want to ask Alex; I can't explain why, I just don't. So it'll have to be Ian. I can't say I'm too keen on that idea either, but it's the only choice I've got.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I open the door to the trunk store and let us in. I'm very nervous about this; it could go horribly wrong. Ian notices the projector immediately.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It's a film projector," I tell him. "I want to show you something."

I motion for him to sit on the trunk, start the film and plop down next to him, wrapping my arm round his shoulder. The title credits 'Carsten & Franz' appear then we're into the action. Ian sits there, his mouth hanging open, not saying a word. I let it run for several minutes, until both boys are naked.

"So what d'you think?" I ask.

"Did you make this?" he says.

"Yeah."

"Wow!" He pauses for a moment. "It's very naughty, isn't it?" he says, stifling a giggle.

"Yes, very," I agree.

I let the film run on. On the screen, Peter's sucking Rob's dick. He's making a great job of it; you can see Rob getting closer and closer. Finally he cums in Peter's mouth. Ian's eyes are out on stalks. I swallow hard.

"I was wondering if you'd like to be in a film like that," I say casually.

"Me?!" he says, turning towards me, like he doesn't believe what I just said.

"Yeah, it'd be you and Peter," I say, trying to make it sound like it's no big deal.

I pull out my bank book.

"That's what I got for making this one," I say, pointing to the entry. "Rob and Peter both got the same."

"That's a lot of money," he says.

"It'll be more next time," I tell him. "I'm going to ask for two hundred and fifty each. You've got a savings account, have you?"

"Yes," he says.

"Do your mum and dad check your bank book?"

"No, they just leave me to look after it."

"Well, that's easy then. They'll send us three cheques, one for each of us. You just pay yours into your savings account, easy."

"Cool!" he says. "I'll do it if you want me to."

"Thanks!" I say, smiling at him and kissing his forehead.

That's a huge relief; he went for it and I didn't even have to pressure him.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

We're all set; we're going to film it in two parts, like we did for the first one. I've briefed the boys and they know what to do, but Peter's such a natural, I could more or less leave him to get on with it and film what he does.

The big problem has been to make this film different from the first one. As we're using the same space, that's been quite difficult. The bonus is that Peter can cum now, not that much, but enough that you can see it.

We start with the undressing scene. Instead of the rather 'cool' way that I did it in the first film, this time they're romping around on the bed, kissing, feeling each other up and pulling each other's clothes off. It's hot as hell, but all the movement involved does make it much harder to film; I can't let my concentration wander for a moment. Peter's a star; he comes up trumps again, making sure that they stay where I can see them and don't go jumping out of shot.

"Cut!" I call.

"How was that?" Peter asks as I turn the lights off.

"Looked great to me," I tell him. "I wish I could use you all the time; you get in front of the camera and just seem to know what to do."

"I guess I like showing off," he says, grinning.

They towel down and swig some water; we quickly run through scene two then we're ready to go. We start off with them doing a sixty-nine, Peter lying on his back with Ian on top of him. I get some great shots of that, long shots and close-ups, including a really nice one of Ian's bum. We cut from that straight to Peter kneeling on the bed, knees apart and sitting back on his heels, with Ian kneeling in front of him sucking him off. I'm filming from Peter's left, so he uses his right hand to stroke Ian's hair.

"I'm gonna cum!" Peter announces.

I move in close as Peter pulls his cock out and squirts in Ian's face.

"Cut!" I say finally.

I'm pleased with that; it went well. I just hope I didn't get in too close at the end there; they'll want the shot of Peter cumming to be nice and clear. I think it should be okay. I quickly hide everything away as the boys towel off and get dressed. I'm surprised at how relaxed Ian was. I guess he hasn't really thought about who watches films like this; it's probably as well.

"How did it go?" Rob asks quietly when I get back to the dorm.

"Pretty good, I think," I say, grinning at him. "Peter did really well again."

"So when are you doing the second part?"

"Next Tuesday." I tell him.

"Mind if I come to watch?"

"Of course not," I say. "You're welcome anytime."

I'll have to let Ian know; I'm guessing Rob might want a little fun with him once the filming's finished.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Finding a variation for scene three has defeated me. Peter has to suck Ian's dick while working some lube into his bum; there isn't much you can do with that.

"I could always lick his bum before I start fingering him," Peter suggests.

"Yeukkk!" Rob protests. "That's gross!"

"No it's not," Peter says defiantly. "You've had a shower, haven't you Ian?"

Ian nods his agreement. I'm caught a bit off-guard; we were just about to shoot the scene pretty much the same way as we did it last time. But Peter licking Ian's bum would make it different; fuck knows where he got the idea from. Part of me wants to say "stick with the script;" it's safe; I know all the camera positions and how long it takes. Well, fuck safe. Peter's been a star up to now; I'm going to run with it.

"When I flip Ian onto his back, you call 'Cut'," Peter says. "That way we'll be in position for the start of the last scene."

"Okay," I say. "Let's do it."

Ian gets in position down on all fours.

"Action!" I call.

Peter moves in behind him and starts licking, pushing his tongue right into Ian's hole. Man! That is so hot! The guys that buy this stuff will go nuts over it. Better than that, it's a piece of cake to film; I hardly have to move, in a bit, back a bit, that's all there is to it. After a couple of minutes Peter's tongue is replaced by his fingers, first one, then two, carefully loosening Ian's ring. Finally he flips him over, so he's on his back with his legs in the air.

"Cut!" I call.

I kill the lights.

"Four minutes, eighteen seconds," Rob tells me, reading off the stop-watch.

That's just about perfect, and they probably won't have to cut a second of it.

We take our time. We've just got the final scene to do; I don't want to rush it. There's one big unknown here, how long it'll take for Peter to cum. If he's too quick, the scene won't be long enough. If he takes too long, I'll run out of film before he's finished.

"I need between four and five minutes, I tell him. "Think you can do it?"

"Just tell me about a minute before you want me to cum," he says casually.

"Rob," I say quietly. "After three minutes on the watch, give him a 'one minute' call, okay?"

We're ready to go. I switch on the lights as they get back into position. I start the camera.

"Action!" I call.

Peter stuffs his near four inch cock into Ian's bum and begins a nice steady fuck, pulling well back each time so I get a good view of the action. I switch the camera onto Ian's face. He's smiling and licking his lips. Oh, yeah! That is perfect!

"One minute!" Rob announces.

Peter speeds up considerably, fucking Ian as hard as he can. After barely thirty seconds, Ian's legs start flailing uncontrollably. Wow! I was hoping he's have a dry-cum, but I wasn't sure if he would; that's a real bonus. A few seconds later Peter unloads right up Ian's bum. As his orgasm subsides, he sinks down between Ian's legs, their mouths meeting in a passionate kiss.

"Cut!" I call.

"Four minutes thirty-two," Rob announces as I turn the lights off.

That's spot-on, and it all went perfectly. Man! I am well pleased!

Peter slips off the bed and starts to towel off. He sniffs his right armpit.

"I stink!" he complains.

Ian's back on all fours. Rob and I open the front of our shorts. He positions himself in front; I get behind. It was Ian's idea; he said he didn't want Rob's dick up his bum; I'm not surprised after the last time, so he suggested that he'd suck Rob off while I fucked him, sexy little sod. Well, I wasn't going to say no, now was I?

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

We sit on the grass, enjoying the September sunshine, me, Rob and Peter. I wish the weather could be like this all the time. Now that Rob and I are among the top guys in the school, we can have a younger boy with us if we want; nobody will say anything.

"Is Will still... you know? Rob asks quietly.

"As far as I know," I say. "I think he'd have said something if he wasn't."

There's a pause.

"I wonder what Mr. Burman's doing to amuse himself now that Leo's left?" I ask.

"He's been trying to get Patrick to go to concerts with him and stay over at his flat," Peter informs us, "but Patrick said no."

"I bet he found that very frustrating!" I say, grinning.

"I'd go with him," Peter says, like out of nowhere.

Rob looks shocked; I'm pretty surprised myself. Even so, an idea's starting to form in my brain.

"So why don't you?" I ask.

"I'm not a musician," he says. "All the kids he fusses over either sing or play an instrument; I don't do either, I'm useless."

"But if he's not getting anywhere he might have to have a re-think," I suggest.

"It wouldn't work," he says firmly. "He just ignores me most of the time and I can't very well approach him in front of the other kids, now can I?"

"You don't smoke, do you?" I enquire.

"No," Peter says. "It's disgusting."

"You could pretend though," I say. "When does he do patrol duty?"

"Tuesdays," Rob says. "Morning break one week, lunchtime the next. He was wandering around at morning break this week, so next week it'll be lunchtime."

"Right," I say. "We'll need some cigarettes."

"Marcus smokes," Rob informs me. "He keeps pretty quiet about it but he does. You could get some off him. He might wonder what you want them for though; he knows you don't smoke."

"I'll tell him I'm conducting a little experiment," I say, grinning.

"So what's the plan?" Rob asks. "Peter gets caught pretending to smoke, then what?"

"Mr. Burman will send him to the music room. A little while later, Mr. Burman will return to the music room and give him three strokes of the cane. Oh don't worry," I say, turning to Peter. "He'll hardly touch you. Then when Peter stands up, what will he see?"

"That I've got a hard-on!" Peter says, giggling.

"I think that should do the trick!" I say, grinning at them.

"He won't go for that!" Rob says dismissively, "Even if he was bumming Leo Johnston, and you don't know that for certain."

"I've got a pound that says he will," I say, still grinning.

"You're on!" Rob says, grinning back. "But what's the point, anyway?"

"I'm working on that," I tell him.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The rugby fixture list is the same as it was last year, except that the home and away fixtures are reversed. So we began with an away fixture at St. George's followed by a home match against Alverley, both of which we won easily. We had so much possession, it was almost a formality, but my partnership with Darren is starting to work well and to be fair, the three quarters did a good job.

Alex may not be the strongest centre we've ever had, but he makes up for it in sheer guts and determination. Evan's done well too. He doesn't have Jonathan's pace, but he's very smart and tricky, sucking defenders in then slipping the ball back inside, leaving them stranded. Tom's strong and solid, just like Brian was, and Paz is sheer class. He's bigger, stronger and faster than he was last season; once he gets going he's very hard to stop.

So today we've got a home match against Queen Elizabeth's; this will be tough, it always is. We've got a score to settle too; they beat us home and away last season. We make our way out of the changing room and stride purposefully towards the pitch. The weather's just about ideal, sunny but not too warm; I love playing rugby when it's like this.

I glance across at the opposition. Last year their forwards looked a lot bigger than ours; this year they don't, if anything, we've got the edge. Mr. Halford's got a good crowd out for us. He always does for the big games; it definitely gives us a lift. We get into our last minute huddle; Rob gives us his ten-second pep talk then we're ready to go.

The first half is brutal. We do have the edge upfront and we're winning lots of ball, but they defend superbly. We score a try from the only real attack we're able to mount, Darren kicks the conversion and Paz lands a penalty. They score two penalties. The half ends with the score at 9-6. After a five minute break we're back out for the second half. It begins in much the same way, but gradually we wear them down. They start to make mistakes, miss tackles. During the final ten minutes we run them ragged, the final score a very convincing 29-13.

We leave the pitch to a great round of applause and almost get mobbed on our way back to the changing room. I'm desperately tired and completely elated; it's the best performance I've ever been involved in. Nobody who hasn't done it can possibly understand what it feels like to win a match like that.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"So how the other new kid in your dorm settling in?" I ask. "Teddy, is it?"

"Man, he's weird!" Marcus comments, shaking his head. "Spends all his time reading and not kids' books either. You'd think he must be really clever, but he's not; he's in most of my classes and he's hopeless, worse than me. Oh, and the other thing he's into is computers; he's always on about them."

"Well I know he's useless at games; he seems to really hate it. Has he made any friends yet?"

"Nah; nobody has much to do with him," Marcus says. "He seems to hate everything."

"He's not getting picked on, is he?"

"Don't think so," Marcus responds. "The other kids just leave him alone. I have noticed one thing though; he's definitely been checking the other kids out in the showers."

"Well, we've all done a bit of that," I say, trying to stop myself giggling.

"Yeah, me included," Marcus agrees. "He's got a nice dick on him for a skinny kid, nice arse too."

"You interested in a bit of night-time company then?" I enquire. "I'm sure you'd like more than the three or four sessions a week you're getting with Gavin."

"Well, I wouldn't mind," Marcus says thoughtfully, "but I've no idea how to go about it; I've hardly spoken to the kid."

"I think it's time I had a chat to him, find out what the score is" I say, smiling.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Right, so you've got it all worked out?" Rob asks.

"I think so," I say, smiling at him. "If I've got it right, and he realises that Peter's willing to have sex with him, he'll jump at it, right there probably; there won't be anyone else around. But afterwards he'll have a problem. If what we've been told is right, then he's going to want to see Peter again. But Peter's not a musician. What excuse would he have for hanging round the music rooms at all sorts of odd times?

"But Peter has an answer; he offers to take him somewhere that we use. That's the trunk store, but Peter won't tell him that, just to meet him outside the art room like we usually do. And when they meet I'll already be hidden inside. So they come in and do the deed and I'll film the whole thing. Afterwards I'll offer to sell him the film for two hundred quid; that should give him a bit of a shock."

"Toby! You're mad!" Rob protests. "He'll never fall for that, surely? He'll hear the camera running for one thing."

"Well, possibly, but I think he might. Last year, from what I've heard, he was fucking Leo stupid. Since the start of this term he's had nothing. So I think there's a chance; I don't think he'll even ask himself where the noise is coming from; he'll probably just think it's a fan or something."

"So will you show him the film?" he asks.

"Won't be able to, will I?" I say casually. "I won't have had it developed. It'll be total crap anyway because I won't be able to light it properly or get the camera into the right positions, but he's not going to know that."

"So how will he know you're not bluffing?"

"I'll show him the one of you and Peter," I say calmly.

"Toby!!" he exclaims, obviously concerned about the consequences.

"You've no need to worry," I say calmly. "If things get that far he'll have already bummed Peter twice. It doesn't matter what he finds out after that; he can't say anything, can he?"

"And you're going to ask him for two hundred quid?" he continues. "Isn't that rather a lot?"

"Not for him it isn't," I say firmly. "You've seen the car he drives, then there's the house near Midhurst, plus the flat in Belgravia where Leo used to stay when they went to concerts; fuck knows how much that's worth. He's loaded; two hundred quid's peanuts."

"It sounds like you're really trying to get one over on him," he says.

"Yeah, well I probably am." I agree.

"Why?"

"Because he treats me like shit," I say. "In first and second year I was a pain in the arse; I was angry with dad for sending me here, so I used to get into trouble on purpose, but I've changed a lot; you know that. Over the past couple of years I've not been in trouble once in his lessons, but he still treats me like I shouldn't be here and he shouldn't have to teach me."

"Well, I still don't think it's going to work," he says.

"Then I'll owe you a quid, won't I?" I say, grinning at him. "We'll soon know; I've got some ciggies from Marcus, so we're all set for next Tuesday."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Hi!" I say brightly. "It's Teddy, isn't it? I'm Toby. Sorry I haven't introduced myself before; things have been a bit busy. Mind if we have a chat?"

He shrugs. We wander out onto the field and park ourselves down on the grass.

"So how are you settling in?" I ask.

"All right," he says, shrugging again.

"I hear you read a lot," I say, smiling at him.

"Yeah," he says. "We've always had lots of books at home; I just pick them up and read them."

"So what sort of stuff do you like?" I ask.

"All sorts of stuff," he says. "I read a lot of science fiction. Have you heard of Arthur C. Clarke?"

"Heard of him," I say. "Haven't read any of his stuff though."

"You should," he says, looking at me intently. "It's not really science fiction; it's more like predicting the future. A lot of the stuff in his books is actually going to happen."

"So what else have you read?" I ask.

"I've been reading '1984' and 'Animal Farm'," he says.

"Great!" I say. "I read '1984' last term; that's a classic, man! I haven't got round to 'Animal Farm' yet. I've just finished 'The Big Sleep' by Raymond Chandler. I read it 'cause they made a major film of it back in the 1940's. Actually, the story's not that good but the writing's amazing; he makes you feel like you're right there where it's happening. I'll lend it to you if you like."

"Thanks!" he says, smiling for the first time. "So you're the kid that does the filming? I thought it was you but I wasn't sure."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I want to be a film director when I'm older."

"I'm going to work with computers," he says. "Computers won't always be big things that take up whole rooms; twenty years from now we'll all have our own computer on our desk at work. People will even have computers at home, and in the future computers will be able to talk to each other using telephone lines."

"I heard you were very interested in computers," I say. "I don't know much about them, to be honest."

"You will," he says firmly. "You'll have to; they'll be part of our lives."

I move a little closer.

"So why did you come here?" I ask quietly.

"I hate school!" He says defiantly. "When I started at primary school, if I didn't understand something the teacher never tried to explain it to me; she just ignored me so I fell behind. And the other kids used to pick on me, calling me names and that.

When I was a bit older, because they knew I read a lot, when I got stuck on something the teachers said oh, you can do it if you want to, and never helped me at all, but I couldn't, so I got even further behind. Then when I started at secondary school the bullying got really bad; some of the older kids wouldn't leave me alone.

"The teachers never did anything about it so I started running away from school. That's when mum and dad decided to send me here. Dad moaned about having to spend the money, but he moans about everything."

"And is this better?"

"Yeah, it's better; I'm not getting picked on and the teachers help me much more than they did where I was before, especially Mr. Thompson. I'm still a long way behind though."

"One other thing I've heard is that you like checking out the other boys when you're in the showers."

He looks alarmed.

"Don't worry about it," I say reassuringly. "At boarding school we see each other naked quite a lot; the ones that notice you looking are probably doing it themselves."

"Oh," he says defensively. "I wasn't trying to... you know."

"So d'you like boys, then?" I ask.

"Yeah, sort of," he admits.

"It's okay," I say casually. "I do too; quite a few of us do. Ever done anything with another boy?"

"Yeah," he whispers.

"I wondered if you had," I say, smiling at him. "Older or younger? I started going with an older boy a couple of years ago, but I've got a younger boy that I do it with now."

"Cool," he says. "I wish I could find someone to do stuff with. The boys I've been with were older than me."

"So what did you do? I ask.

"You know... Everything."

"Did they bum you?"

"Yeah."

"And d'you like that?"

"Yeah."

"Marcus likes bumming; he likes you too," I tell him.

"Marcus?" he says, looking at me like I've gone mad. "He never even speaks to me!"

"Well he's new as well," I say, smiling at him. "He was scared of getting it wrong. Don't say anything, but he got thrown out of his last prep school for bumming one of the younger boys."

"Oh," he says, "I had no idea."

"So would it be okay if he got in bed with you?" I ask.

"Yeah, if he wants," he says. "Got to be better than doing it for myself."

"I'll tell him," I say. "He'll have a word with you to fix up a time."

"Toby," he says, "You know you said about doing stuff with one of the younger boys; would I be able to do that, too?"

"If you can find a younger boy that wants to go with you," I say, "and that won't be easy. The younger kids who are looking for an older friend usually go for the boys in the rugby team; that's just how it works, and you being new doesn't help. But it's a possibility. Leave it with me; I'll see if I can think of anyone."

"Thanks," he says.

The bell sounds for the start of afternoon classes.

"We'd better go," I tell him.

We make our way back inside. I'm pleased I did that; Teddy's okay, I like him. He might struggle in class but he explained why. I do know one thing; he's definitely not stupid.

35

It's Tuesday lunchtime. Peter's positioned right on Mr. Burman's patrol route. Rob and I are watching from a distance. As Mr. Burman approaches, Peter drops the cigarette he's been holding, just like I told him to. Mr. Burman has words with him; a few seconds later Peter heads off in the direction of the music rooms. So far, so good.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I check my watch; it's nearly five to one; the bell will go soon. Suddenly Peter appears, looking very pleased with himself.

"Well?" I demand.

"He did it," he says.

"He bummed you right there in the music room?" Rob questions.

"Yeah; he caned me first, then when he saw I'd got a hard-on, he told me to bend over the music stand again. Then he pulled my shorts and underpants down and bummed me. He's got a big one and he cums loads."

"We need to check," Rob insists.

We troop up to the boys' room by the science lab. The place is empty. Peter goes into one of the stalls, drops his shorts and bends over. I feel the back of his underpants; they're damp and sticky. Rob feels him too then pulls Peter's briefs down a little so we can see his bum. Well, there's no doubt at all now; he's been bummed all right.

"That's a pound you owe me," I say, smirking. I turn to Peter, who's fully dressed again. "So have you fixed up to see him again?"

"Yeah, tomorrow, half past seven, like you told me."

"I can't believe he went for that," Rob says, shaking his head. "He must be stupid!"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I'm hidden inside the trunk store. I have one fear; that Burman won't turn up, and Peter will forget and leave me locked in here. Then the shit would be in the fan. He shouldn't forget; I've told him enough times, but it's the one way this could go badly wrong, so the worry's still gnawing at me. I flick on my safety light and check my watch. It's almost half past seven; I shouldn't have much longer to wait.

There are voices outside; one of them sounds like Peter, but it's a bit muffled so I can't be sure. As soon as the key hits the lock I turn the camera on. That's important; if I didn't turn it on until they were in here Mr. Burman probably would notice it. The door opens and Peter turns the light on. I turn my light on at exactly the same moment, hoping that he won't notice that either.

I can hardly believe it; everything goes exactly to plan. From the way Mr. Burman's behaving he doesn't suspect a thing.

First of all they both get naked. I have to admit that Burman's in better shape than I thought he'd be. I knew he wasn't fat, but he actually looks better naked than he does when he's dressed. I guess that's because of the old fashioned clothes he wears. His dick's nearly as big as Mr. Atkinson's was; it'll be interesting to see how well Peter copes with it. They get on the bed with Burman giving Peter a blow-job. Man! He's obviously done that before!

Finally Peter gets on all fours exactly where I told him to; Mr. Burman gets behind him and sticks his big cock right up Peter's arse. He starts to fuck him, holding him round the thighs and pulling his dick almost the whole way out before slamming it back in again. Man! It's one of the hottest things I've ever seen!

I'm almost cumming just watching them. Well, if he calls my bluff and I have to sell this film, it won't be that bad; you'll certainly be able to see who it is and what they're doing. And I needn't have worried about Peter; the way he's moaning, he loves having that big cock up his bum.

Mr. Burman reaches down and plays with Peter's dick. I can't see it too well from my position hidden behind the trunks, but it's obvious what he's doing. Peter goes wild, gasping, clawing at the bed and banging his head against the mattress; a moment later he spunks in Mr. Burman's hand.

Mr. Burman grabs the pillow and puts it under Peter's tummy. He pushes Peter down on top of it and fucks the shit out of him. Wow! That was unbelievable! After a few seconds Mr. Burman pulls his dick out. Peter gets up on all fours again, turning his back to me so I can see his bum with the spunk dribbling down his legs. I get a good shot of it then switch off the camera; it's time to make myself known.

When I emerge from behind the trunks Mr. Burman nearly shits himself! He's none too pleased when I put my little business proposition to him, but he calms down a bit when he realises that I won't be back for more. Like I reckoned, two hundred quid's nothing for him.

He calms down a whole lot more when I tell him that if he and Peter want to keep going together, there won't be a problem with that either; I even suggest when they could meet without people getting suspicious. By the end he's okay about it, like he appreciates all the planning I've done.

He actually seems more friendly than he ever has in class. Now all he's got to do is pay up, but he will. I've got him by the balls if he doesn't.

I'm not sure how Rob's going to react to Peter going with Mr. Burman but I can have a pretty good guess; he won't like it one little bit. But that's probably for the best too. Rob's been doing stuff with Darren, but he's had to keep it very quiet; I don't think he's even told Peter about it. But if he and Peter split up because Peter's going with someone else, he and Darren will be able to do what they like. Rob won't have thought of that; he's too honest, it's not the way his mind works.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I'm lying in Will's bed; it's just coming up to six o'clock and I've just fucked him stupid like I usually do this time on a Friday morning.

"So are you still going with Mr. Cooper?" I whisper.

"Yes, of course," he says, smiling.

"So you really like going with him then?"

"Yes; he's great," he says quietly. "I don't know what I'd have done without him. Last year I went through a really bad time. I was tired all the time and my legs kept getting sore; I was struggling to jump as high as I had the year before, and when I tried hurdling it just felt so awkward.

"I thought there must be something wrong with me, but he said it was because I was growing so fast. So he cut down my training and really helped me through it; just told me to keep believing in myself and it'd sort itself out when my growth spurt finished. Well, I'm feeling much better now and getting back into it again. If he hadn't been there helping me I think I'd have given up."

"That's cool," I say absently, smiling and licking his nose.

We lie snuggled up together not saying anything. He's given me plenty to think about. I hadn't realised how much help Mr. Cooper had given him, but that's typical Will; left to himself he'd never talk about something like that. Of course, Mr. Cooper could just help him without fucking his arse, like Mr. Chandler helps me, but maybe Will needs that too.

So is that the difference between Will and me? I don't need anyone to tell me to believe in myself; I never have. Deep down I've always known I could do pretty much what I wanted; I didn't need anyone to tell me. But Will does; maybe Leo Johnston did too. Is that why I wouldn't want a relationship like that, but they do? I think there may be more to it, but I'm sure that has something to do with it.

In a funny way, it ties in with something else. I'm just starting to understand how good Mr. Cooper is. Most of the schools we play against at rugby are prep schools and have about the same number of boys as we do. But we beat them all last season, most of them quite easily, and look like doing the same again.

Yeah, I know we're lucky this year having some very strong lads playing up front, but last year our pack was quite ordinary, so that's not the real story. Rugby's all about teamwork, and we're just that much better drilled and better organised than most of the schools we play against.

That's down to Mr. Cooper. He's taught me the game since I was eight years old. As soon as I got selected to play scrum half for the school I knew what to do. A lot of the training we do isn't that physical; it's about making sure we're working together, playing as a unit. Mr. Cooper spends hours with us. I'm sure he wouldn't spend that long if he had a wife and kids to go home to, but he hasn't; he's got Will instead. I know I wouldn't want it to be me, but Will seems more than happy, so who am I to argue?

I guess Mr. Burman must be much the same; he certainly puts the hours in. I'm not a musician but I listen a lot. I always go to the concerts he puts on; they do some really good stuff considering how few boys there are here. One thing's bothering me though; if Peter does keep going with him, what's he going to get out of it?

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

As well as Public Schools Scholarship, I'm going to have one more exam to do. Mr. Thompson has decided to enter the four of us who are doing the PSS exam, that's me, Justin, Craig and Dominic, for 'O' level maths next summer. If it had been anyone else I'm not sure I'd have wanted to do it, but Mr. Thompson's the best teacher ever; I was never any good at maths till he came here. And anyway, 'passed 'O' level maths at thirteen' will be another thing to add to my list of achievements.

He's giving us some extra lessons to get us through the stuff we're going to have to know. We're starting this afternoon after normal classes have finished. I don't mind; Rob's fixed it so that Justin and I have our slots after supper, so I wouldn't be doing anything important. We're just getting settled into Mr. Thompson's classroom when someone else arrives.

It's Deon Hayes; I should have known he'd be here. We settle down to work. I knew Deon was clever; I just didn't know how clever. The kid's a fucking genius! He runs rings round the rest of us! Now some kids might resent getting shown up by a younger boy, but I think that's stupid. Deon's showing us what we need to aim for; I've just got to get my head down and get on with it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Since we started going together my relationship with Ian hasn't changed at all. He's my younger friend, my most loyal supporter, always there when I need him, supporting me, encouraging me, helping me to relax when I'm under a lot of pressure.

To be honest, I don't know what I'd do without him. But if you asked me what he's got out of our relationship, I'm not sure I could tell you. He does well in class and seems to get on with everybody, but is that because of me? I really don't know. I think he's benefited; I certainly hope he has, but I couldn't tell you exactly how.

With Alex it's completely different. Our relationship has changed a lot since I first had sex with him. It's like he's followed in my footsteps, and now that he's playing alongside me in the rugby team it feels to me like we're equals, although I'm not sure that he'd say that. I'm really proud of what he's achieved, especially after all the shit he had to go through when he first came here. Now it's his achievement, there's no mistake about that, but it's like Mr. Chandler said about helping me with the filming, I feel proud because I helped; I made a difference.

I let us into the trunk store. We step inside and I lock the door behind us. I wrap my arms round him, pulling him into a passionate, sensuous kiss. There's an intensity about having sex with Alex that I just don't get with anyone else.

We start to undress each other. He's grown quite a bit over the past few months, and the more he's grown, the more beautiful he's become, well, he has to me anyway. He's not 'cute' or 'pretty' like Jack or Dominic; he's got a different kind of beauty, I don't know what you'd call it, 'boyishness' maybe. All I know is that he turns me on like no-one else.

I open his shorts and push them down over his hips. Underneath he's wearing a pair of white nylon gym shorts.

"What are you wearing those for?" I ask.

"Because I want you to bum me in them!" he whispers.

Man! He's full of surprises!

"Well, that's for later," I say grinning and rubbing noses with him. "Right now I want to suck your cock!"

I pull down his gym shorts, allowing his dick to spring free. That's grown quite a bit too; it's well over four inches long but still quite slim. It looks perfect on him and tastes even better. And he can cum; he spunked in my mouth a couple of weeks ago and hasn't looked back since.

I quickly slip off the rest of my clothes. We get onto the bed, snuggled up together, wrapped in each other's arms. I roll him onto his back, our lips meeting in another wonderful, mind-blowing kiss, my nostrils full of his sexy boy-smell. Our cocks grind together; being close to him like this is just the most perfect feeling possible. We roll onto our sides, still kissing passionately.

He seems to enjoy this as much as I do. Eventually we pull back. He's smiling. Man! He is so beautiful when he smiles!

"Next year, after you've left," he whispers, "I'd like to be Ian's special friend. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"No, of course not," I say, running my fingers through is springy fair hair. "I couldn't think of anyone better. But it'll be up to Ian to decide if that's what he wants."

I reach down and fondle his cock. It's amazingly hard and throbbing in time with his heart beat. I snake around, resting my head on his tummy, and take it into my mouth. I suck it right down to the base, licking it all over. For me it's the perfect size, and it smells and tastes wonderful; I could suck it like this for hours and still want more. I let him go and smile up at him, reflecting on how lucky I am to have found someone like him, let alone having Ian as well.

"Can I do you now?" he asks.

"Come on then!" I say, rolling onto my back.

He settles to his task, holding the base of my cock between thumb and index finger; lifting it away from my body while he works his lips and tongue all over it. I lie there totally relaxed, basking in the sensations he's giving me; out of this world, just like they always are when he sucks me.

I squeeze some KY onto my fingers, sliding my hand down his back and over his bum. I locate his hole and gently push inside. He alters position slightly, cocking his leg up to make it easier. I push in deeper, touching his prostate. His cock twitches against my thigh. I push in a second finger, slowly twisting both fingers round inside him. I let my fingers slide out. He looks up at me.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Yeah!" he breathes. "Is it okay if we do it like I said?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want," I say, relishing the idea. "We'll have to do it standing up though."

I grab the pillow and place it on the desk. Alex slips his gym shorts back on and bends over it, his chest resting on the pillow. I coat my dick with KY and move in behind him. I lower his shorts an inch or so to give me more room then guide my dick up the leg, working it around till I find his pucker. One firm thrust and I'm inside him.

"Oooh, Toby!!" he moans. "Oh, do it! Please!"

I hold his legs just below his shorts, slowly pulling him onto me. I push over his prostate.

"Ohh!!" he gasps, his cock twitching wildly against his shorts.

I keep pulling him back until he's got the whole thing, my tummy pressed tight against his bum. I take a deep breath and get to work, starting off nice and slow, just like Mr. Burman did with Peter, but I guess I don't have his control; I try to keep it steady but within a couple of minutes I'm pounding his bum as hard as I can go.

"Oh! Oh yeah," he groans, his breathing short and uneven. "Oh! Nnng!! Aarrgghhh!!!"

He shudders violently, his bum clamping my dick like a vice. A moment later his cock rears up and he spunks in his shorts. I lose it completely, fucking him senseless.

"Ohh!! Oh fuck!!" I gasp. "Ohh!! Ohh!! Nnnnnnggg!!!"

Spunk barrels through my dick, blasting into his bum in several big wads. I'm so dizzy I can hardly stand up. I sink down over his back. Man! That was something else! Very, very slowly I let my dick slide out of him. It's so sensitive I can't bear to touch it. A wet patch spreads across the back of his shorts. I've cum loads; I knew I had. He turns to face me, his eyes sparkling.

"Toby!" he breathes. "That was the best, man!"

I hold him to me, our chests pounding together. He looks up.

"You don't think I'm dirty, do you?" he asks.

"No," I say, smiling down at him. "I got bummed like that once. It was the canoe instructor at the kids' holiday centre last summer. He was twenty and really hot. He gave me these shorts to put on then bummed me in them. He kept the shorts as a souvenir."

"So you do like going with older guys then?" he asks.

"Yeah, sometimes," I say. "If they're nice and don't try to push me into it."

"Oh," he says, pulling his grey school shorts back on "I love having your spunk inside me. I'm going to keep it there until it's almost shower time."

I smile to myself. He is something else, and I love him to bits.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Our second extra maths lesson is just coming to and end. Another of my mad ideas suddenly hits me.

"Deon," I ask. "You know you're really into science and that. D'you read science fiction?"

"Yeah!" he says enthusiastically. "Lots of it!"

"Arthur C. Clarke?"

"Yeah man!" he says, grinning from ear to ear. "He's the best!"

"There's this new kid in Upper Fourth," I say quietly. "His name's Teddy. He's into all that sort of thing. Well, as you know yourself, he can't find anyone else to talk to about it. I wondered if you might like to meet him."

"Yeah!" he says, hardly able to contain himself. "It'd be great to find someone I can actually talk to for a change."

He pauses for a moment.

"Sorry, that came out wrong!" He grins.

"One thing I have to tell you," I say. "Teddy had a pretty bad time at the schools he's been to before, so he's way behind where he should be. But he reads all the time, and he's well into science and computers; he's definitely not stupid. Are you into computers?"

"Yeah, just starting to learn about them," he says. "They're going to be the future. And maybe I could help him on things he gets stuck on."

"Yeah, that'd be great." I say smiling. I lower my voice to a whisper. "There is one other thing. I think he likes... you know, like Jonathan."

"Oh!" he whispers back. "Is he nice looking?"

"Not bad," I say, "but that's up to you to decide; meet first and see how you get on. Wait outside the refectory after supper and I'll introduce you."

"Thanks!" he says. "I'll be there!"

As I leave the classroom, Justin's waiting for me.

"Toby!" he says, giggling. "You ought to start a dating agency!"

"You're not complaining, are you?" I ask.

"No, I think it's great! I wouldn't have found Patrick if it hadn't been for you."

"That's okay then!" I say, grinning at him.

It could come at a price though. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to need a favour off Justin, but I very well might.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Our morning meeting with Mr. Halford is just about to end.

"Right, gentlemen," he says. "You're doing a good job; vigilant but not heavy-handed, so well done and keep up the good work. Any questions?"

There's an uneasy pause; nobody puts their hand up.

"Okay," he says. "Off you go. Toby, will you come to my office at break please. Don't worry; you're not in trouble."

I've no idea what he wants to see me about, but as long as I'm not in trouble, I don't really care.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I knock on the door of Mr. Halford's office, pause for a second and walk in. He's sitting behind his desk.

"You asked to see me sir," I say.

"Yes," he says brightly. "Take a seat."

Well that's different; I've never been asked to sit down in here before.

"It's about your Public Schools' Scholarship application," he says. "I notice that you've put down Winchester as your first choice."

"Yes sir," I confirm.

"You know that's the hardest school of all to get into, don't you?" he says, looking me right in the eye. "And even harder to get a scholarship for. I don't think we've ever had anyone get one."

"Yes sir," I say. "That's why I want to go there."

"I thought it might be," he says, smiling, "but you'll find it very stuffy and old fashioned after this place. Are you really sure that's what you want?"

"Sir," I say, "I want to make films, films that get people talking, change the way they think. If I'm going to do that, I'm not just going to have to be good; I'm going to have to be the best. Nobody in our family works in film or television; my uncle Andrew knows a few film producers and directors; that's about it.

"I put down Winchester as my first choice because a lot of really clever boys go there. That will give me the chance to compete against the best. That's what I need, and if that means I have to put up with some stuffy, old-fashioned attitudes, I'll just have to get on with it."

"Well, I can't fault you for that," he says, smiling, "even though I'm not sure it's really what you need. As far as film and TV goes, you do have one other contact; James Pearson, Russell's father. He's been very impressed by the stuff you've done and the dedication you've shown, so make sure you keep in touch with him. He's in quite a senior position within BBC Drama and ideally placed to help you get started. He'll be here again on Sports Day so make sure you get his contact details."

"Thanks sir," I say.

He looks at me, still smiling.

"You're so like your dad," he says. "It's no wonder you two don't get on very well."

I stare at him with my eyes popping out; he just said I'm like my dad!

"Oh, you probably think you're nothing like your dad," he continues. "You certainly have very different ideas. But your dad's a very strong personality, just like you are. He may or may not be the best heart surgeon in the country. What he is, is the one who doesn't suffer fools, doesn't take 'no' for an answer, gets thing done, makes things happen, and that's just the way you are. You were bound to clash; it's like they say in the Westerns, 'This house isn't big enough for the both of us'."

I have to stop myself giggling; that was a classic movie line he just quoted. He's right too; I'd just never thought about it like that.

"Well," he says. "I don't have to ask you if you're fully committed; that goes without saying. So give it your very best shot; if there's any help you need, my door's always open; just come and ask."

I sit there almost overwhelmed; it's a lot to take in. He's been so different from the Mr. Halford I thought I knew.

"Sir," I say. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but after Mr. Atkinson left and you were teaching us English, you were really brilliant. Why didn't you keep doing that rather than doing, you know, what you do now?"

"Well," he says, smiling at me. "I originally came here as Head of English and in charge of cricket. I'd been here four years when the previous Deputy left. I had a wife and two hungry boys to look after; I needed to do the best for them. The Deputy's job is a lot more responsibility, but it pays a lot more money, so I applied for it and got it."

"Sorry, sir," I say, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I didn't know you had kids."

"Yes, Greg's just started at Bristol University, reading English; Tom's in the sixth form at Charterhouse. He went there on a scholarship; we couldn't have afforded it otherwise."

I'm even more impressed; he could have just told me to mind my own business.

"Sir," I say, still trying to work it out, "you know when I used to get in trouble a lot, you used to cane me and sometimes you'd hit me really hard, like you enjoyed doing it."

"It's part of the job," he says. "D'you remember the day you took a pea-shooter into the chapel?"

"Sir," I respond.

"I gave you a good thrashing that day. Now I want you to think for a moment; suppose I'd let you get away with it. What d'you think might have happened the next time we went to chapel?"

"There'd have been more boys with pea-shooters."

"Exactly!" he says. "And then I'd have had a real problem. So I sent out a very clear message, and it worked. You also used to get into arguments with Mr. Perkins. Now suppose I'd let you get away with that. What d'you think might have happened then?"

"Other boys would have started arguing with him."

"And before anyone knew what was happening, his lessons would have turned into riots. Your parents pay a considerable amount of money to send you here. D'you think they'd pay that sort of money to send you to a school where that sort of thing was allowed to happen?"

"No, sir."

"So I had to make sure it didn't, and I'm pleased to say it never did. It really wasn't about punishing you. Have you seen 'The Godfather' yet?"

"Yes," I say, somewhat startled by the sudden change of subject. "Uncle Andrew took me to see it just before we came back to school. It was brilliant!"

"Wonderful film," he says, nodding. "Brando was fantastic; he has to get an Oscar for that performance. Well, there's a line in that film that just about sums it up."

"What's that, sir?" I ask, still rather confused.

"Nothing personal, strictly business," he says, looking at me intently.

Right; I get it now.

"Sir," I say quietly, finally starting to understand why he treated me like he did.

"Go on, Toby," he says smiling. "You've missed your break!"

"Thanks sir," I say, smiling back.

I leave his office, heading for my next class. It's hard to describe how I feel, relieved, elated, like I just crossed an important bridge. I guess I did; he pretty much treated me like an adult in there. After all this time thinking how horrible he was, I've finally worked out that he was just doing what he had to do; he's not horrible at all.

36

It's the week before the half term break. As I come out of the refectory after supper, Teddy's waiting for me.

"Toby," he says quietly, "you know I asked you about, you know, doing stuff with one of the younger boys? Well, me and Deon want to do it, but he says I've got to sort it out with you first."

I pretty well knew this was coming from a couple of things Deon's said when we've been in our extra maths classes.

"That's right," I say, "but it's not actually me. You'll need to speak to Rob, you know, Rob Shearsby the rugby captain; he's in charge. But let me have a word with him first so he knows the score, okay? I'll speak to him this evening then you can ask him tomorrow."

"It's a bit weird, isn't it," he says, "having it all organised like that?"

"That's what I used to think," I tell him. "But we do it because it works. It makes sure there are no fights, no arguments and everything's kept quiet. Otherwise it could get out of hand."

"Oh," he says. "I'll see you after breakfast tomorrow then."

"Yeah, okay," I say, "but you'll still have to ask Rob yourself; I can't do that for you."

It's funny; when Rob and I got put on the list this time last year, Will asked Jeremy for us. Rob won't allow that; he insists on anyone who wants to be put on the list asking him personally, so he can spell the rules out to them. I guess that's his army background coming out. But it works; he makes sure everyone knows what's expected. There's no loose talk going on this year.

I head off back to the prep room; I've still got work to finish before bedtime. I wouldn't have believed I'd ever have to work as hard as I am at the moment, but if I'm going to get that scholarship I don't have a choice. Just after eight o'clock I stroll back to the dorm. Rob's lying on his bed reading.

"Teddy Larsen, the new kid, has been asking me about getting put on the list," I say quietly. "He's teamed up with Deon Hayes; they're spending most of their free time together."

"Yeah, I heard about that," he says, "another of your match-making stunts. I'm not sure about putting him on the list though. James asked me last week and I said yes so that's nine of us now and that makes it pretty tight; I didn't really want any more."

"Putting Teddy on won't make any difference," I say.

"What?" he asks.

"Monday, Tuesday and Thursday before prep, what are we doing?" I ask.

"Rugby training," he says. Then the penny drops. "Oh, sorry, I'm being thick," he says, grinning. "Teddy and Deon aren't rugby players."

"You could give them those three slots every week," I suggest. "Nobody else uses them."

"Yeah, okay," he says. "Tell Teddy to see me tomorrow."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The half term break has come and gone. I did spent some time with the old gang, but I just can't feel part of it any more. Since that business with Sean, everything's changed.

I used to think I'd always be one of them, but I'm not.

They've gone one way; I've gone another. I saw Luke a few times, which was fun; now I've got to know him I like him a lot, but I don't have the sort of feelings for him that I have for Ian and Alex. So we had sex, full stop; that's all there was to it. I actually spent most of my time on my own. I had so much work to do, maths especially, that I spent hours and hours up in my room just getting on with it. Liz and Kate were very surprised; I guess I've never done anything like that before. I don't think they knew what to make of it.

We've been back at school for three days. I walk into the dorm after prep. Rob's lying on his bed. He's looking miserable, which is not like him at all. I squat down next to him.

"What's the problem?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing," he says, trying to brush it off.

"Come on, Rob," I say, smiling down at him. "I've known you too long to let you get away with that."

"It's Peter," he admits. "I don't like him going with Mr. Burman. He bloody loves it! He actually told me that during half term he went to Mr. Burman's flat near Victoria to have sex with him. It was like he was trying to rub my nose in it."

Well, it makes sense. Peter lives near Clapham Common; it's easy to get to Victoria from there. So Mr. Burman makes a trip up to town and gets a nice little bonus for his trouble.

"Well, I don't know what you're so miserable about," I say calmly. "He's given you the perfect excuse."

"Toby!" he protests. "What are you talking about? Excuse for what?"

"Getting rid of him, of course!" I say, smiling at him. "If I've got this right, you'd much rather be with Darren. So you give Peter the heave-ho; he goes swanning off with Mr. Burman and you'll be able to fuck young Darren to your heart's content."

"I don't know," he says, looking very uneasy. "I'd have to tell him I don't want to go with him any more."

Rob's impossible sometimes; he's so obsessed with doing things 'the right way'.

"D'you want me to sort it out for you," I ask.

"I ought to do it myself," he says, squirming around like there are fleas biting his arse.

"Fuck it, Rob!" I say, grinning. "Leave it to me; it won't be a problem."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Peter, Can I have a word?" I ask.

"Sure," he says, shrugging.

We wander out to the far side of the playground and park ourselves on one of the benches where we won't be overheard.

"It seems you're getting on very well with Mr. Burman," I suggest.

"Yeah, thanks," he says casually, "Mr. Burman's great."

"Unfortunately, Rob's not too happy about it," I say quietly. "When he said he'd be your special friend, sharing you wasn't part of the deal."

"Well, he's no room to talk," Peter says, sounding irritated. "He's been doing stuff with Darren Proctor. He hasn't told me about it but I know he has. I think it's because Darren's mad on rugby and I'm not. I tried, but I just couldn't get interested in it."

"Well that's fair enough," I say. "It'd probably make it easier for you to see Mr. Burman if you're not going with Rob as well."

"That's okay," he says. "I knew it was going to happen sooner or later."

"So you really like Mr. Burman then?" I ask.

"Oh yes," he says. "I'm not a musician but I do like music; I always have. I suggested to Mr. Burman that I could start a music appreciation society, you know getting together to listen to records."

"And what did he say?"

"He thought it was a great idea. We're going to have three sessions a week, one for the first and second years, you know, stuff like 'Carnival of the Animals', one for the older boys and one where boys come and present some music that they like, and that can be anything, except that you can't just come and play pop records; there has to be a theme to it and you have to present it properly."

"Like the music of Jimi Hendrix," I suggest. "I'd do that for you."

"Yeah!" he says. "That's the idea."

I'm a bit taken aback; I've never known Peter get enthusiastic about anything.

"And the other thing I'll be doing," he continues. "You know, when he puts a concert on, I'll be helping with sending the tickets out, doing the seating plan, all that sort of thing."

"Great!" I say. "That should keep you busy."

"Yes," he agrees, "and it means I can be round the music rooms whenever I want."

"So you're really into having sex with him then?"

"Yeah!" he says giving me a big grin.

"Why?" I ask. "He must be nearly forty and he's not exactly hot."

"But he likes me," Peter responds.

There's a long pause, or at least it seems like one. For once, I don't know what to say next.

"I was an accident," he says baldly, making me sit up. "When I was born my sister was twelve, my brother was fifteen, my parents were both forty something and daddy was well on his way to becoming an ambassador. They weren't going to let something like having another child get in the way."

I'm very rarely embarrassed but I am now, the hurt and bitterness in Peter's voice quite unmistakeable.

Knowing your parents never wanted you; that's horrible!

"I'm sorry, Peter," I mumble. "You should have told me to mind my own business."

"It's okay, he says casually. "I'm used to it. I haven't seen my parents since Easter; they weren't around at all during the summer. I can stay at home if my sister's there to look after me, but she was away quite a bit during the summer, so I got moved about all over the place."

"And when you're at home, I guess you're sister must be at work most of the time," I suggest.

"Yeah," he confirms. "She's a civil servant, works in Whitehall."

"Giving you plenty of time to visit Mr. Burman's flat without anyone knowing about it." I continue.

"Yeah," he agrees, smiling. "I like him because he cares. He's already told me I need to work harder. I never used to work because my parents didn't care whether I did or not, but he does, and he's offered to help me if I need it."

Well," I say smiling back at him. "It sounds like you've got it all worked out. So there'll be no hard feelings between you and Rob?"

"No, of course not," he says. "Rob's cool; I guess it just didn't work out."

We stroll back towards the buildings without saying another word. I can hardly believe how much Peter's changed, and it's all down to Mr. Burman. I'll have to re-think my ideas about older guys having sex with boys. Peter doesn't just like having sex with him, it actually seems to be helping him, just like Will with Mr. Cooper. I had a bad experience with Mr. Atkinson, 'cause he didn't give a shit about me; he pretended he did, but all he really wanted was to fuck my arse.

But from what Will and Peter have told me, Mr. Cooper and Mr. Burman aren't like that at all; they really do care. These things just aren't as black and white as people want us to believe.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"So how are things going with Gavin? I ask.

"Great, man!" Marcus replies, giving me a big grin. "He's so fuckin' sexy! Can't get enough of it! Man, I really owe you for fixing that up for me!"

"That's cool," I say, grinning back. "What about Teddy?"

"He's great too," he says. "Beautiful tight arse!"

"I go with him the days I haven't seen Gav," he continues quietly. "He always lets me fuck him. He likes it; cums while I'm doing it. Mind you, these days he spends most of his time with that younger kid, you know Super-Brain. He's settled in much better since they started hanging out together; he actually seems to like being here now."

"Wow! That's good then!" I say. "Look, I've got this little project going you might be able to help me with. Meet me down by the art room, half past seven, and I'll show you, okay?"

"Yeah cool, man!" he confirms.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I let us into the trunk store, locking the door behind us.

"Wow, man! How d'you get the key to this place?" he asks, looking around. "Nice set-up; you've kept that very quiet!"

"Yeah, well that's the idea," I say. "There's only a handful of kids know about it, so I'm trusting you not to say anything, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he says confidently. "I'm safe, man!"

"Cool!" I say, motioning towards the trunk in the middle of the floor. "Take a seat, I want to show you something."

He sits down. I set the projector running and plop down next to him.

The opening credits roll and 'Carsten and Franz' get down to business. It's not long before he realises who he's watching and what's about to happen.

"Shit, man!" he gasps, his eyes glued to the far wall. "Did you make this? Fuck! That's hot, man!"

I don't say anything, just let him keep watching. Peter's giving Rob a blow-job. He can't take his eyes off it; he's getting more sexed-up by the second. Rob spunks in Peter's mouth; he nearly cums without even touching himself.

"Fuck!" he breathes. "I never saw nothing like that!"

The film continues. Pretty soon Peter's on all fours with Rob fucking him senseless. Marcus looks like his eyes are going to fall out. We reach the final shot, the spunk leaking out of Peter's bum. The film fades to black.

"So what d'you think?" I ask casually.

"I knew you were supposed to be good," he says, like he didn't believe what he just saw. "Man, you're a fuckin' genius!"

I pull out my bank book, indicating one of the entries.

"That's what we got for making it,"

I tell him. "That's two-two-five, each."

"Fuck!" he says, looking at me like I just told him I robbed the local post office.

I point to a later entry.

"I made another one a few weeks back; with Peter again and Ian, the kid I go with. We got two-fifty each for that one."

"Really?" he says. "Jesus! I'd no idea that sort of thing went on here!"

"It doesn't usually," I say calmly. "They've asked me to do a third one, but with different boys. Would you fancy being in it?"

"Are you serious?" he asks, looking at me intently.

I nod.

"How much?" he asks.

"Two-fifty each, same as last time; you and Gavin."

"Okay," he says, shrugging. "I get bugger all pocket money while I'm here; I could use a bit extra. Count us in; I know Gavin will do it; he'd do anything, sexy little bastard!"

"Can we trust him to keep his mouth shut?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah!" he says. "He's pretty wild but he'd never grass us up."

"Okay, that's settled then!" I say, grinning and offering him my hand.

He accepts the handshake; that's another deal I just made.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It's midday Sunday; I'm lying on my bed relaxing. Sure, I'm still working my socks off, but other than that life could hardly be better. After chapel I had a very nice session with Alex up in the attic, early tomorrow morning I'll be in bed with Will and tomorrow evening I'll be seeing Ian. I can hardly complain, now can I?

Justin appears. I'm about to say something when I notice he's looking worried, which just isn't like him. Tigger's pretty pale most of the time; right now his cheeks are almost grey. He jerks his head towards the door; I follow him out. He leads the way downstairs, across the courtyard and into the main building.

"Something's happened," he says quietly. "I need to speak to you in private. Follow me up to the attic. It's okay; I just came from there."

He heads up the stairs. I wait to give him time.

Now I'm worried too; if he's just come from the attic that means he's just been with Patrick, so whatever's happened must have something to do with him. I haven't a clue what, but it must be serious; Justin's not the type to panic over nothing. I follow him up to the main dorm corridor, check that there's nobody about and trot up the attic stairs. Justin's sitting on the floor waiting for me.

"So what's the problem?" I ask quietly.

"This morning," he says, almost in a whisper, "Patrick was getting changed after cross-country training when Martin told him he was going over to Mr. Thompson's flat for half an hour to watch a film of some big cross-country races. He asked Patrick if he'd like to go with him. Well, Patrick said yes so off they went.

"They were sitting on the sofa watching these races, Martin in the middle, Patrick at one end, Mr. Thompson at the other. Well they'd been watching for a bit when Martin put his hand on Patrick's leg and started opening the top of his shorts. When Patrick looked across, Martin had his shorts and pants down round his knees, and Mr. Thompson was playing with his dick. Mr. Thompson had his dick out too; Patrick says it was huge.

"Anyway, Patrick nearly freaked! He told Martin to stop. Mr. Thompson put his cock away and told Martin to pull his shorts up. Then they just sat and watched the races like nothing had happened. I know it's a bit silly, but Patrick's quite upset about it. And I know it's genuine; he's not the type to make stuff up."

"I'm not surprised he's upset," I say, feeling very uneasy. "Are you quite sure he had no idea what was going to happen when he went there?"

"I asked him that," Justin says. "He says he hadn't got a clue. Did you know Mr. Thompson was like that?"

Well the answer to that is no I didn't; I'm shocked to be honest.

"Has Patrick said anything to anyone else?" I ask.

"No," Justin tells me. "He met me as soon as he got back from the gatehouse. I could see he was upset. When I asked him what was wrong he tried to brush it off at first but then he told me. I asked him not to say anything and told him we'd get it sorted out. What are we going to do?"

"We'll have to talk to Martin for a start," I say. "Rob'll kill him!"

We head back to the dorm. As soon as we get there I go into a huddle with Rob; the other boys know better than to disturb us when we do that. Rob's not pleased. He's done everything he possibly could to keep things in order; then bird-brain Martin does something as stupid as that.

"I'll see him straight after lunch," Rob says firmly. "I want you to sit in on it. Ask Justin to guard the door to make sure we aren't disturbed."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

We're all set. Rob's sitting on the edge of my bed, which is the one furthest from the door, with me sat behind and to one side, propping myself up against the wall. The door opens. Martin walks in. Justin closes the door behind him. Martin walks over to us.

"D'you know why I've asked to see you?" Rob asks.

"Sort of," Martin says, looking uncomfortable.

"I want you to explain what you thought you were doing this morning, taking Patrick Naylor to Mr. Thompson's flat." Rob says evenly. "As I understand it, you didn't tell Patrick what was going to happen or make sure he was okay with it. Is that correct?"

"Well, I knew he was going with Justin," Martin says, "So I thought it'd be okay."

"You're a bloody idiot!" Rob snaps. "You can't make assumptions like that. As a result of your stupidity we've had a situation that could have caused serious problems. As a result of Justin's good sense, I think we may have kept a lid on it, but if Patrick had told anyone else, Mr. Thompson might have had to leave.

"Can I point out that he's the only proper maths teacher we've got? If he suddenly disappeared, the boys working for Common Entrance and Public School Scholarship wouldn't have anyone to teach them. I don't think they'd be too pleased, do you?"

There's an uneasy silence.

"So how did you start doing things with Mr. Thompson in the first place?" Rob demands.

Again Martin doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," Rob says calmly, his eyes boring right into Martin's skull, "I didn't hear your answer."

"I seduced him if you must know," Martin says.

Rob and I look at each other, eyes wide. I don't know what we expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Go on!" Rob says.

"I knew he wanted to," Martin starts explaining,

"I'd seen him looking at us in the showers, at Patrick especially, but he never did anything. Well, after Ashton left, I was getting fed up with being Justin's bit on the side, so one Wednesday afternoon, when we have maths last period, at the end of the class I asked him if he'd help me with something I was stuck on. We were sitting together at his desk, so I put my leg right against his.

"He got a hard-on; I could see it, so I put my hand on his leg and started stroking it. He asked me what I was doing, so I told him. At first he made all sorts of excuses; it was against the law, he hadn't touched a boy since he left school eight years ago, he was about to get married, all sorts of stuff. But he'd still got a hard-on, so eventually he said okay. We went in the maths store room and he bummed me."

It's one of the craziest things I've ever heard, but that's why I believe it; if he was making it up he wouldn't have come up with something as weird as that.

"So when was that?" Rob enquires.

"Beginning of October," Martin says. "Don't remember exactly."

"And presumably you've been having sex with him ever since?" Rob continues.

"Yes." Martin confirms.

"Well that's a matter for you," Rob tells him. "It's nothing to do with me. However, taking Patrick Naylor with you certainly is."

"I'm not the only one who goes there," Martin says defensively.

"Really?" Rob says. "So who else is involved?"

"Not sure," Martin says. "Mr. Thompson said something about having a couple of boys over for some extra maths classes, but I don't think maths was all they were doing."

Rob looks at me.

"I'll find out," I say casually.

There aren't too many people it could have been; I've got a pretty good idea already. Rob turns back to Martin.

"So when was that?" he asks.

"One Saturday morning when you were away playing rugby."

That fits in too, except for one thing.

"I thought you went to races on Saturday mornings," I say.

"We do," Martin confirms, "but not every week."

"Right," Rob says evenly, "As I told you, if you choose to continue visiting Mr. Thompson's flat, that's up to you. However, under no circumstances are you to take anyone else with you, is that clear?"

"Yes," Martin says, a note of resignation in his voice.

"And you won't be getting any night time visits from Justin or anyone else for the time being," Rob continues. "I'm putting you off-limits to everyone at least until this thing blows over. Okay; that'll be all."

As Martin leaves the room I allow myself a little smirk. Rob did that just the way his dad would have done. I almost expected him to say "About turn, quick march!" at the end there. I'm not criticising; he handled it superbly, much better than I would, it's just funny, that's all. Now I've got to confirm my suspicions about who's been having the extra maths classes.

"Well that's Martin dealt with," Rob says, "but what are we going to do about Mr. Thompson?"

"I'll have a word with Mr. Burman," I say.

"Why Mr. Burman?" he asks.

"Because, after out little encounter in the trunk store, I know he'll take me seriously. And anyway, he likes things kept very quiet. He'll make sure Mr. Thompson gets the message."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It has to be Craig and Dominic. Craig's captain of the cross-country team and doing really well. He's been in the top three in every race they've been to, and won a few of them. So he's got pretty close to Mr. Thompson. I wander along to Brindley dorm; he's not there. One of the other boys says he's working; that means the library or the prep room. I try the prep room first. He's sitting at one of the desks working quietly. That's what I need to be doing as soon as I've got this sorted out.

"Craig," I say quietly. "Can I have a quick word outside?"

He follows me onto the corridor. I take a quick check; the place is deserted.

"Did you and Dom go to Mr. Thompson's flat one Saturday morning for an extra maths class?" I ask.

"Yeah, why?" he says, eyeing me suspiciously.

"This morning two other boys went there. Let's just say that one of them wasn't too happy with what happened, so Rob's got involved. It's been suggested that one Saturday while we were away playing rugby, two boys went there for an extra maths class, but that maths wasn't all they were doing. I need to find out if that's correct. So when you went there, did anything happen?"

"Like what?" he asks, sounding very defensive.

"You know," I say pointedly. "Look, you haven't done anything wrong, but something happened this morning and we just need to know how far things have gone. Don't worry, we're not going to say anything about you."

"Yeah, well it did actually," he admits. "I'm not even sure how it started, but we ended up having a threesome on his bed."

"Thanks," I say. "Now you can forget about it, but I'd suggest going there again is probably not a good idea."

"I don't think we'd have done that anyway," he says. "It was okay; he didn't force us or anything, but I know I don't want to do it again; I don't think Dom does either."

"Cool," I say. "I'll let you get on with your work; I'll be joining you in a few minutes."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It's Monday morning break before I get to see Mr. Burman.

"What are you doing here, Toby?" he says, eyeing me suspiciously, like he thinks I'm going to try to screw some more money out of him.

I briefly tell him what's happened.

"Oh, we can't have that," he says, sounding a little alarmed. "It could make things very awkward. Thanks for coming to see me; that was exactly the right thing to do. I'll speak to Mr. Thompson; make sure he knows what's expected."

I head back to the dorm to collect my books for my next two classes. I'm hoping that will be the last we hear about it. I'm still shocked about Mr. Thompson; I just wouldn't have believed he'd be like that, but that's what I said about Mr. Atkinson. Mind you, if Martin hadn't gone after him like he did, he probably still wouldn't have done anything.

That's weird!

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I've sorted out the script, briefed Marcus and Gavin and got everything set up. I let us into the trunk room.

I'm not really looking forward to this. The truth is I'm bored with it; having to do them all in the same place is so limiting. Then there's the problem that they always want me to use different boys, which means more boys finding out about what I'm up to, and finding out about the trunk store for that matter, which increases the risk that something will go wrong. It's making me paranoid.

On the other hand, Gavin is very enthusiastic; he can hardly wait to get started. As usual we begin with an undressing scene. As the weather's pretty cold now they're both in full school uniform, so they've got quite a bit to take off, which works well for what I want. We finish up with clothes scattered all over the floor and Gavin down on his knees sucking Marcus's cock.

"Cut!" I call.

I turn off the lights while they take a break, towelling off and taking large swigs of water. It's time to go again. For the second scene Marcus is lying on his back with Gavin kneeling over him, sucking him off, his bum right above Marcus's face. Actually, this is great to film because of the different camera angles I can get, long shots and close-ups from side-on, and close-ups looking right into Gavin's face. I stay on that for half a minute or so, making sure the viewer will be able to see what a great job Gav's doing and how much he's enjoying it.

"Gonna cum!" Marcus warns.

I quickly move to the side, staying in quite close. Gavin takes Marcus's first shot in his mouth then pulls off, taking the second one right in the face before plunging back down to finish him off. After a few seconds he lets Marcus go, smiling at the camera, showing his mouth full of spunk. Then he licks his lips and swallows it. Man! That was the best yet!

"Cut!" I call again, killing the lights and turning off the camera.

For all my misgivings beforehand, I really enjoyed that. Gavin's a little star; he doesn't have Peter's imagination, but he's so sexy it really doesn't matter. I can hardly wait to get back here and shoot the rest of it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Well, this is it; we're back and ready to go. My first film was 'Carsten & Franz' then I did 'Franz & Bruno'; this one will be 'Andreas & Dieter'. For the third scene Marcus is not at all keen on licking Gavin's arse, so I've pretty much reverted to what we did in the first film; Marcus sucking Gavin's cock and working lube into his bum. The one difference is that Gavin squirms around a lot, which looks really sexy. He pulls his knees up too so you can see Marcus's fingers pushing right inside him. The stopwatch rolls just past four minutes.

"Cut!" I order.

It's our final break. We all take several swigs of water; the boys towel off. It's time to do it.

For the final scene I've got the old desk out into the middle of the room with the pillow on top of it. Gavin's standing bent over the desk, his chest resting on the pillow. Marcus moves in behind and sticks his hard cock right up Gavin's bum.

I get some amazing shots! I take some from the side, some looking diagonally over Gavin's back and some looking up from between Marcus' feet. But the real bonus is that all the way through Gavin reacts like Marcus is sticking a red-hot poker up him! He's so used to it I doubt if it's hurting him at all, but with the way he's moaning and grimacing, he's certainly making it look like it is. Man! They're going to love that!

"Cumming!" Marcus announces.

I hold my position as he slams in one final time, unloading his spunk up Gavin's bum. After a few seconds he slowly pulls out, moving to one side so that I can get in position.

I'm just in time to film the spunk spluttering out of Gavin's bum and running down his legs. They were disappointed that they didn't get that shot in the last film, but Peter doesn't cum enough and I didn't want to fake it. Well, they've got it this time!

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The film's on its way to Denmark and I'm feeling uneasy again. I'm not worried about there being any problems, and I'm certainly not worried that they won't pay us. No, they're going to love the film and within a couple of weeks we'll have our money. But I'll also have a letter asking me to do another one, and they'll want different boys in it. They may ask for something different altogether; the three I've done have all been pretty similar. I'm just not sure I want to do it, but now I've started, it seems hard to give it up.

37

I let us into the trunk store, locking the door behind us. I hand Marcus his cheque.

"There you are," I say, giving him a big grin. "Don't spend it all at once!"

"Thanks, man!" he says, tucking it away.

"I asked you to come here because I wanted to show you the letter," I say, passing it to him. "They want me to film a threesome with Gavin and two different older boys, you know, ones I've haven't used before."

He scans through it.

"So are you going to do it?" he asks.

"That depends a bit on you," I say. "Gavin's your boy; if you're not happy with the idea, they can forget it."

"Well, I'm pretty sure Gav will want to do it; you know what he's like," he says, smiling. "It's up to him; after all, he's only my boy 'cause you set it up for me. So who would the two older boys be?"

"Dunno," I say, shrugging. "That's part of the problem. Fuck! I'm not even sure I want to do it. I was thinking about maybe asking Teddy for one and maybe Justin for the other; I'm not sure if they'd do it though."

"I think Teddy would," he says quietly. "Seems he's well into fucking that Deon kid. But I'll tell you one thing; you've got important exams next term, right?"

"Yeah," I agree.

"Well, you should get them out of the way first," he says firmly. "Fuck, man! I've seen how hard you work. You don't want to miss out on getting that scholarship you're after 'cause you're worrying about making some porn film. So when d'you finish your exams?"

"Common Entrance is the first week in March," I tell him. "The scholarship papers are the week after. It wouldn't leave much time before the end of term."

"So leave it till after Easter," he says. "You'll have loads of time then. Just forget it for the moment."

"Thanks, man," I say, grinning at him. "I'll do that."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

So I have, more or less. I had to tell Gavin about it, of course; sexy little sod wanted to do it next week. He was a bit disappointed when I told him we wouldn't be able to do it until I'd got my exams finished. He was okay about it, though.

I've written to Denmark telling them I'll do it at the start of the summer term. I told them something else too; I said we wanted three hundred each. They wrote back and said that was fine, so all I've got to do now is talk to the older boys I want to be in it, but I'll leave that until I'm ready to shoot.

The Christmas holiday passed off more or less as usual. I spent quite a bit of time working; we had lots to do, maths especially. Mum was most impressed. Dad wasn't, of course, but he never is; it was like well, you're not going to get a scholarship so I don't know why you're bothering. Mum had a go at him about it; I've never heard her do that before. Afterwards he sulked like a spoilt brat. Well, I guess that wasn't a surprise.

The one strange thing was I hung out with the old gang more than I usually do at Christmas, but we've grown apart and there's not much I can do about it. Jason and I hung out together at his house a few times. We chatted about this and that, but there wasn't a hint of anything happening like it had before, not a sniff. I was disappointed in a way; after being at home for a week and a half I was so sexed-up I hardly knew where to put myself. But I think it was probably for the best; Jason got a bit weird when we did stuff before, like he wanted to do it but regretted it afterwards.

So I'm back at school and working harder than ever. Some of the lads are getting worried about the exams. I'm not; I've been working at it since September, I'm as well prepared as I could be. School life goes on just the same though; exams or not; we played rugby this morning the same as we do every Saturday, scoring another easy win. It's good to do that sort of thing anyway; it takes your mind off 'the exams' for a while, helps you to relax.

After spending a couple of hours working in the prep room, I stroll back into the dorm. It's four o'clock.

"Where's Martin?" I ask, realising that I haven't seen him since breakfast time.

"Gone to the county cross-country championships," Paul says, looking up from his book. "He said there are lots of races for all different age-groups so they'd probably be out all day."

I stretch out on my bed to relax for a while; apart from seeing Ian after supper, I've done everything I'm going to do today.

"Good win this morning," Rob comments from his position on the next bed.

"Yeah," I agree absently.

"Must make sure we don't get over-confident though," he says. "We've got the away fixtures against Queen Elizabeth's and Martlington; they'll be really tough, and we could easily slip up against one of the lesser teams if we get sloppy."

"You know, you captain the side just the same as Jeremy used to," I say, the thought having just come to me.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Rob comments. "He did it bloody well; even you thought he did a good job."

"I just thought, you know..." I respond, squirming around trying to sort out just what I do think.

"It's like the Americans say," Rob observes. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"You didn't talk to Mr. Cooper about it then?"

"No need," Rob says. "I just thought about what Jeremy did. He did it just the way Mr. Cooper told him to, same as he did everything else."

Well there's no answer to that; he's got it spot on. We fall back into silence. It's half an hour later when Martin appears, dressed in tracksuit and trainers.

"How did you get on?" Paul asks.

He doesn't answer, just pulls two medals from his pocket. I wander across to have a look. They're both gold. That doesn't seem right, and why two of them anyway?

"I won it," he says quietly.

Now that definitely isn't right!

Craig's our best runner; if anyone was going to win, it'd be him.

"You beat Craig?" I query.

"Yeah," he says, grinning. "You should have seen the course, man! It was really hilly and parts of it were like a mud-bath; Craig's not so good when it's like that. We got filthy! You should see my kit; matron's going to go nuts!"

Well, I guess that does make some sort of sense. Craig always looks immaculate; getting plastered in mud wouldn't be his scene at all.

"So what's the other medal for?" I ask.

"Oh, we won the team race as well," he says casually. "I won, Craig was third and Patrick was seventh."

I'm surprised and impressed. I knew Martin was in the cross-country team but I'd no idea that he was any good; I'm pretty sure he wasn't when they first started.

But he is now, good enough to win the county championships. It's hard to understand. Martin started here the same day that I did. He spent four years just drifting along not really doing anything. So why the sudden change? I'm not sure I want to admit it, but deep down I know the answer; it's to do with him being with Mr. Thompson.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"So what's this about Martin beating you?" I ask when we're sitting together at supper.

"Yeah," Craig admits, grinning sheepishly. "He ran great."

"He says the course was pretty tough," I say.

"Yeah, it was horrible," Craig says, "but that sounds like I'm making excuses. He just ran better than I did; that's all. It's been coming for a while, to be honest; he's always right up with me in training. Well, he went out running three or four times a week over the holidays; I only went out twice. So today when he started pushing the pace on I couldn't keep up with him; that's all there is to it."

Well, that explains it, I guess. Martin kept up his training right through the Christmas holiday; Craig didn't.

And there are no prizes for guessing why Martin did that; he did it because Mr. Thompson told him to, which just confirms what I was thinking earlier.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Whenever someone does something out of the ordinary, Mr. Halford always makes sure to tell everyone about it. He did it back in the summer after the end of year concert. Instead of Mr. Burman accompanying Leo's solo pieces himself, he got Patrick to do it. Patrick did it beautifully. I know; I was there. So in assembly the following Monday, Mr. Halford told us about it. Leo and Patrick played a jazz piece too, with Ashton Hayes playing bass.

Mr. Halford told us about that as well, talking about them "venturing into unfamiliar territory."

He did it again last term, when Peter set up the Music Appreciation Society, saying how good it was to have boys adding new things to the life of the school. And to be fair, he's always mentioned my sports day films, and encouraged the boys to come and watch them; he's very good like that; I'd just never really appreciated it before. It's not that he overlooks the regular stuff; he always announces the rugby results, and quite often highlights outstanding performances, but that's so routine he doesn't make a big thing out of it. But when something unusual's happened, he really goes to town.

So it's no surprise in Monday's assembly when he asks the cross-country team to go up to the front so he can re-present their medals and the trophy, and makes a point of telling anyone what a great achievement it was when we've only had a cross-country team for such a short time; it was the first time we'd even entered something like that, so I guess winning it was pretty amazing. There's a warm round of applause, just like always. Then he turns to Martin.

"I want you to take particular note of this," he says, looking around like his eyes are boring into each one of us. "I don't think Martin would mind me saying that he's never been one of the stars here. In fact he's never done anything special before. But he found something that he was reasonably good at, worked hard at it and now he's county champion. So my message to you is very simple; find something you're interested in; work hard at it and you can achieve that sort of success too."

I can't disagree with that; it's pretty much what I've always done, only I didn't need anyone to tell me.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The past couple of months have absolutely flown past; even half term week seemed to be over almost before it had started. February's almost over and our exams start next week. I'm pretty confident; I guess I always am. I've worked hard; I've prepared as well as I can. All I need to do now is to produce my best in the exams. I don't see that as a problem, at least it never has been before; I always seem to be able to turn it on when it matters, just like I do when I'm playing rugby.

It seems Martin beating Craig in the county cross-country championships wasn't a fluke; he's beaten him twice more since. But that's not the only thing that's changed as far as Martin's concerned. Over the past few weeks he's been working as hard as anybody; he's certainly never done that before.

And he's given up the kids' comics he used to read; he gets this athletics magazine instead and when he's relaxing in the dorm he reads that. But that's not the most important thing. There's a confidence about him now that he never had before. He used to be one of the kids who was here to make up the numbers and he more or less knew it. Well now he isn't, and good luck to him; he deserves it.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I let myself and Ian into the trunk store, locking the door behind us. I gently pull him into a hug, his head resting on my chest. He's been my special friend for eighteen months.

During that time he's always been there when I needed him, keeping me going, encouraging me, helping me to relax; somehow always knowing the right thing to say. To be honest I don't know what I'd have done without him.

"You know, you're the best younger friend I could have ever had," I whisper, stroking his hair. "Not just out of all the boys in this school, out of all the boys anywhere."

"D'you think so?" he asks, smiling up at me.

"I know so," I say, bending forwards to kiss his cute little nose. "You've no idea how much you've helped."

"Thanks!" he says.

"I want you to know how grateful I am, even if I don't get a scholarship," I say gently. "You couldn't have done any more."

"But you are going to get a scholarship," he says confidently. "There's no question about it."

Man! I love this kid! How did he know to say that?

Now I really will have to get one; letting him down just isn't an option. We start to undress each other. A couple of minutes later we're naked on the bed, but if you asked me exactly how we got there I don't think I could tell you. I'm lying on my back with Ian on top of me, his hard little dick grinding into my tummy. We're kissing passionately, my hands running down his back and over his bum. Just being with him like this would do for me.

He lifts his head up and smiles down at me. I can't imagine why I thought he wasn't all that cute; when he smiles like that he's gorgeous!

"So what d'you want now?" he asks.

"Whatever you like," I reply dreamily, more than happy to lie here and let him get on with it.

"Okay then!" he says, giving me an evil grin.

He shuffles back slightly then flops back down, his head now on my chest. He starts licking, first one nipple then the other. Fuck! It feels so amazing I hardly know what day it is. He works his way down my body, stopping off at my tummy-button. It tickles; I can't stop myself giggling.

Then he moves down again, licking all over my cock and my balls. Oh, yeah! Finally he gets my dick in his mouth, sucking me like he was born to it, his fingers gently fondling my balls and the sensitive area behind them. Man! You just can't do it better than this! I'm just thinking I'm going to cum in his mouth when he pulls off.

"So how was that?" he asks, licking his lips.

"Unbelievable!" I tell him. "I nearly spunked."

"I know!" he says, grinning at me.

He picks up my shorts and pulls out the tube of KY. He gets some on his fingers and smears it over my cock.

"Right!" he says. "I think this is what you need!"

He kneels astride my tummy, reaches back and holds my dick. He slowly lowers himself onto it, shuffling forward slightly to get into exactly the right position, my dick nuzzling against his hole. He pushes down, taking the whole thing. Man! What a gas! I've never fucked a boy like this; never really thought about it to be honest, but he obviously has. I reach out and fondle his hard little bullet. He grins at me and starts to move, pumping his hips, up, down, up, down; it's the best feeling in the entire universe and all I have to do is lie here and enjoy it.

He keeps right on pumping, never missing a beat. I'm getting close, very close. He's even closer. He shudders violently, his bum tightening round my dick, his cock twitching and jerking between my fingers. I'm there. I press down on his thighs, pushing him right onto me, my dick erupting deep inside him. Man! That was something else!

After a few seconds he slowly lifts himself up, allowing my cock to slide out. I wrap my arms round him as he flops down on top of me. We kiss like it's the only thing that matters. I can't tell you how good that is. I don't know if there would have been a better way for me to finish my exam preparation, but right now I can't think of one.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The Common Entrance papers are pretty straightforward, just like we've been told. I guess there wouldn't be much point in doing the Scholarship exam if you couldn't do this first lot pretty easily. I just need to be careful, don't rush and avoid making silly mistakes. I have a few butterflies going into the first couple, but once I get going, I'm fine.

I work through them steadily and still have time to check them through at the end. In a funny way it's quite enjoyable. We've been working for these exams for so long, it's great to actually get in there and get them done. Well, I was confident before I started; I'm even more confident now we've finished. I know I've done well even before we get the results.

So now we're into the Scholarship exam. As I go in to the first paper I remember what Ian said: I am going to get a scholarship. We start with maths, which is still probably my weakest subject. This is much harder, but I just have to do what Mr. Thompson said; don't spend time on a question I'm not sure about, leave it and get onto the questions that I can do.

That gives me fourteen questions out of twenty. I check my watch. We've got just over half an hour left. I go back to the questions I missed out. It's funny, now that I've got my brain going, when I look at them for a second time I remember how to do some of them.

That gives me another three, and I'm pretty sure I've got them right. There are still five minutes to go. I have a crack at another question. To be honest I'm still not sure what to do, but I'm not too worried at this stage. If that's going to be my worst paper, I've done okay, or at least I think I have.

The rest of the papers aren't as hard as I expected. I know the stuff; I just have to make sure that I read the questions and answer them properly. As we leave the final exam I'm quietly satisfied. It's gone better than I thought it would. There were no panics, nothing that threw me. I did everything I could have done; we'll just have to see whether that's good enough.

38

Even though I wasn't worried about the exams, having finally got them out of the way is still a big relief.

Of course, the four of us that did the scholarship papers have still got our 'O' level maths to do, but we won't do that until the beginning of June. The difference now is that we're having our extra lessons during normal class time, with Mr. Halford looking after three of Mr. Thompson's classes so that he can teach us.

I'm really enjoying maths now; I've improved so much since Mr. Thompson's been here. He's a great teacher, there's no doubt about it. I had my doubts about him when that stuff happened with Martin and Patrick back before Christmas, but that's all just about forgotten. As far as I know, he's still having sex with Martin, but that's it. There's been no hint of him doing it with anyone else. And Martin's changed so much you'd hardly know him; changed for the better too, so what can you say?

Even though we've finished our exams, we're still expected to keep working. Some of the kids don't want to, of course. Idiot Face has been in trouble three times already. Mr. Halford caned him today for arguing with Mr. Chandler and not doing as he was told. He's such a tosser; when I used to argue with Perky at least I was arguing about something, not just trying to get out of doing any work.

Anyway, it suits me; I'd get bored if we were just sitting around the whole time, and if we've got things we want to work on, we're allowed to do them, within reason. For me, that's anything to do with film making, of course. For English, I've got hold of this book about writing television scripts, so I'm taking some of the stories I've written and trying to turn them into screenplays.

It sounds easy, but it's not; it's going to take a lot of practice before I get it anywhere like right.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Justin walks into the dorm and sits on my bed. He's looking agitated.

"Can I ask you something?" he asks.

Apart from Paul with his nose buried in a book, there's nobody else here.

"Yeah, sure," I say.

"Patrick's asked me to go and spend a few days at their house over Easter," he whispers.

"So?" I ask, not really getting it.

"The thing is," he continues, "his dad knows he's, er... you know."

Now that has perked my attention up!

"Shit!" I say. "That makes things a bit awkward."

"Well, Patrick says he's all right with it," he says. "He realised before Patrick even came here."

"Sounds weird to me," I comment.

"That's what I thought," he agrees, "but Patrick reckons that last year, after his dad told him he knew, he asked him to invite Brian to go and stay with them, so he could meet him."

"Fuck! Now that is weird!" I say. "So did Brian go?"

"Yes; Patrick says they even slept in the same room," he confirms. "Well, he's asked me for our phone number so he can give it to his dad to call my mum and dad and ask them if it'd be all right for me to stay with them for a few days. D'you think I should give it to him? He says there won't be a problem, but Mum and dad would hit the roof if they knew, you know, what we were doing."

"Well, seems like Brian got away with it okay."

"Yeah," he concedes. "So you think I should give it to him then?"

"Well, I would," I tell him. "Your mum and dad won't go asking lots of questions, will they?"

"I wouldn't think so," he says. "They don't usually."

"Well, you might as well do it then," I say, grinning at him. "You never know, it could be fun!"

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

"Okay, lads!" Mr. Thompson says, as the bell goes to signal the end of second period. "Well done today; put your things away and make your way out to break."

As the other boys leave the room, Justin and I stay behind.

"Sir," I ask, once everyone else has left, "You know on Wednesday when you're taking the cross-country team to the Prep Schools Championships, would it be possible for me and Justin to come and watch?"

"Hmmm!" he says thoughtfully. "I am taking some of the younger boys so they can see what it's like, but there'll still be room in the minibus. I'll have to ask Mr. Halford, but it should be okay. If you're coming I'll want you to help. The start and finish are some distance apart.

"Before the start of the race, when the boys take their tracksuits and trainers off and get into their spikes, I'll want you two to gather all their stuff up. I'll give you a couple of plastic sacks to put it in then you can take it across to the finish area. It'll save me having to do everything myself. Okay?"

"Sir," I say, nodding.

"So how d'you think we're going to do, sir?" I ask.

"It's hard to say," he says, smiling at me; "We've never done it before. Top six would be a superb result, but at this stage it's all about experience."

"So how many schools will be there?" I continue.

"Sixty odd, usually," he says. "They won't all have full teams, but most of them will. There'll probably be about three hundred and fifty runners."

"So who's our team then, sir?"

"Craig and Martin," he says, "Patrick Naylor, who's starting to run really well, Alan Scott, John Mitchell and I've borrowed Evan Williamson from the rugby team. We should have had Jamie Barnett, but he's had a bad cold; matron won't let him run."

It's a shame about Jamie; that's Chris's brother. He's in third year and I know he's pretty good; sometimes he beats Patrick; sometimes Patrick beats him, but there's never much in it. Even so, our team doesn't sound too bad. I'm not sure about John and Alan, but I know Craig and Martin are doing well and it sounds like Patrick's improving too.

Evan's a superb runner; he can run all day. At the end of a rugby match when everyone else is completely knackered he's still running as fast as he was at the start. I guess it depends what they're up against. Sixty schools sounds like a lot and some of them will have been doing this for years. It should be an interesting day out.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It takes us over two hours to drive to the course.

Everyone's pretty quiet, just like we are when we're going to an important rugby match.Just before one o'clock we arrive at a big new sports centre right next to the course. Some of the other schools are already there.

Quite a few of the kids are dressed in their school uniform. We're all in tracksuits and the lads who are running are already wearing their kit underneath so they don't have to worry about getting changed till afterwards.

Before the start of the race, Justin and I gather up the kit and take it to the finishing area. The gun sounds just as we get there; three hundred plus runners surge up a long steady incline, trying to get a good position before they reach the first corner. We leave the sacks by the post with the number '51' pinned to it then trot across towards the far side of the course so that we'll be able to see the runners as they come back downhill.

I look over to my left. The leaders have made the first turn and are heading across the top of the course. They're still pretty bunched together; at this distance I can't make out whether any of our boys are there or not.

We get ourselves into position, just by a stream crossing. It's only ankle-deep, but it's still going to feel bloody cold at this time of year. After a couple of minutes they emerge from behind the trees. Martin's right up with the leaders, with Craig tucked in a couple of yards behind. Now that's good!

"Well done, Martin!" I shout, really starting to get into the atmosphere. "Come on Craig! You're running great!"

Justin's counting, or trying to; it's pretty difficult at the speed they're passing us.

"I reckon Evan was about thirtieth and Patrick about fortieth," he says.

Mr. Thompson comes flying past us, sprinting like a lunatic, trying to get to parts of the course that we're not quick enough to reach.

"They're running fantastic!" he calls before disappearing into the distance.

After crossing the stream, the course turns left-handed before heading up a second, steeper climb. We trot fifty yards along the stream, crossing it where it disappears into a culvert, and pick up the course right after the one really muddy section, at the bottom of the slope where they come back down again.

A minute later they're flying downhill towards us. Martin's still right up there; I can't see Craig. They plough through the mud and run past us. They are seriously dirty! A group of six has broken away at the front. Martin's still there; Craig's hanging on about five yards behind. We shout more encouragement.

Justin's counting again.

"Evan's lost a couple of places but Patrick's catching him," he tells me.

Now we've got to sprint. They've got to run back behind the start then turn right-handed to begin their second lap. If we get a move on we can cut the corner off and catch them as they head back up the hill. I set off with Justin following in my wake. We make it just in time, both of us totally out of breath; how these kids can run a couple of miles even faster than that I shall never know.

The position's much as it was; Martin's still in the leading group, Craig's about ten yards behind but still well inside the top ten; Evan's in the mid thirties with Patrick right behind him. It seems like we're doing okay, but I can understand why Mr. Thompson wanted Evan to run; there's been no sign of John or Alan. I just hope we can hang on.

It's time to go again, a steady trot across the course to the stream crossing. Even that seems hard. The leaders appear from behind the trees. The group's down to four and Martin's still there; I can hardly believe it. Craig's in eighth place a good thirty yards back. Less than a minute later Patrick goes past with Evan a couple of places behind him. Evan's obviously tiring, but he's very tough; I know he won't let us down.

We jog across the culvert to where we were before.

As they approach us down the hill, I can see that a tall, dark-haired boy has broken away. He flies through the mud and runs past us twenty yards clear; he looks superb. Behind him, a small sandy haired kid is in second place, with Martin a couple of yards adrift and battling to stay in touch. There's a gap of ten yards back to the boy in fourth. Craig comes past, still in eighth place, but with two other kids close behind him. Patrick's still more or less where he was; Evan's dropped a few places.

It's time for us to get to the finish. We stroll across; it's only about a hundred yards for us. We take up our position by where we left the kit. The winner is just emerging from the finishing funnel. A few seconds later the sandy haired kid follows him, with Martin close behind. He walks across to us.

"Was that third?" I ask.

"Yeah," he confirms, showing me his finishing disc. "I should have been second but that kid got a couple of yards on me and I couldn't get it back."

He puts on his tracksuit top and starts to unlace his spikes. A few moments later, Craig appears and flops down on the ground. He looks shattered!

"How did you do?" I ask, handing him his tracksuit top.

"Tenth," he gasps, still struggling for breath.

Mr. Thompson runs across to us.

"Fantastic!" he breathes. "You've done great!"

It seems like ages before Patrick emerges. He's finished thirty first.

"Amazing!" Mr. Thompson tells him, "That's the best you've ever run, by a long way! You'll be right up there next year."

Half a minute later Evan's back too; he was forty fourth. He all but collapses.

"Man!" he gasps. "I never dreamed it was going to be that hard! Patrick was unbelievable; eighteen months ago I could beat him without even trying!"

Pretty soon we've got them all. John was ninety eighth and Alan one hundred and thirty ninth. I think about it for a moment. There were over three hundred kids in that race, so all our runners were in the top half of the field. It seems we've done much better than a lot of the other schools, even without Jamie.

Mr. Thompson collects the finishing discs and fills out the results envelope.

"How did we do, sir?" I ask.

"Too early to say for sure," Mr. Thompson says. "We must be in the top six, but I've no idea where. We'll have to wait for the results."

It's time to make a move but Evan can hardly walk.

"I don't train for this," he complains. "My legs are so tight, it feels like they've got knots in them."

Alarm bells ring in my head. We've got our final rugby match on Saturday and we're going to need him for that.

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

"Have a shower now," Mr. Thompson tells him. "When we get back to school I'll take you to my flat so you can soak in a nice hot bath with plenty of bath salts. Then afterwards I'll give you a massage, okay? Don't worry, you'll be fine by Saturday."

After the incident with Patrick back before Christmas I'm wondering if a bath and a massage is all he's going to get, but I'm not worried about it. Mr. Thompson's okay; nothing will happen unless Evan wants it to.

As we leave the finishing area, Martin suddenly veers off, trotting across to a man he's spotted. A few seconds later the two of them are heading back towards us. From the look on Martin's face I'm guessing the man's his dad.

Martin hadn't said anything about his dad coming to watch so I guess he didn't know. Martin introduces him to Mr. Thompson; there are smiles and handshakes. Martin looks the happiest I've ever seen him. I'm wondering if his dad would be looking quite so happy if he knew what else had been going on, but he doesn't and there's no reason for him to find out, so it's not a problem.

I'm pleased for Martin; I know he's had a lot of help from Mr. Thompson, but he's still had to put the work in. It takes balls to do what he's done, and it's not so long ago that I didn't think he had any.

As I look up, Patrick's with a man too, quite definitely his dad; I can tell by the way they're looking at each other.

They're heading our way.

"Dad, this is Justin and that's Toby!" Patrick says excitedly. "They came along to help Mr. Thompson."

"Hi Justin, hi Toby," his dad says, smiling and shaking us both by the hand. "I'm pleased to meet you both; Patrick's told me a lot about you."

Justin and I look at each other, not knowing what to say.

"I understand you've both just done your scholarship exams," he says. "You must have been doing well to even get put in for them. I just hope you're going to get the results you want."

"Thanks!" we say, almost in unison.

"I think I did okay," I continue, "but Justin's the real clever clogs."

"I spoke to your mum last night," he says, turning to Justin, "explained that we'd invited you to spend a few days with us during the holiday. It's all fixed up; You'll go home as usual then we'll drive down to Salisbury to collect you on the Sunday afternoon, if that sounds all right."

"Yes, thanks," Justin says, like he wasn't expecting it.

"Well, I must let you go," he says, smiling warmly. "Great to have met you, Toby! Justin, I'll look forward to seeing you a week on Sunday."

We stroll back to the sports centre. Justin and I park ourselves in the sports hall, keeping an eye on the younger kids while Mr. Thompson and the team get changed. Jamie's sitting next to me; he was allowed to come and watch even though he couldn't run.

"Disappointed?" I ask gently.

"Yeah," he says. "A bit; but I've got next year and the year after, I guess."

"Yeah," I agree. "And by then you'll right up at the front."

I glance across at him; he's not really like Chris, who's big and strong. Jamie's almost as skinny as Gavin; he's cheeky like Gavin too, quite cute in his way.

"I'm going for a piss," he says, grinning up at me.

He stands up and heads towards the toilets. After walking a few yards, he turns and grins at me before carrying on. Is he thinking what I think he's thinking? Well, if he is, I'm not biting; I guess I'm not as mad as I used to be. There are several hundred people in this building; it's far too risky.

I'll have Ian waiting for me when we get back in any case. He returns a few minutes later and flops back down again, giving me a wry grin; another time, maybe.

Mr. Thompson and the team rejoin us just as the results sheets appear. I quickly take a ten pence piece from my pocket and buy a copy. We got third team; the winners scoring fifty seven with second on seventy one. We scored eighty eight, so all our team will get a medal. Mr. Thompson's delighted and the lads are over the moon.

"We did very well, sir," I comment to Mr. Thompson as we wait for the presentation. "Some of the schools didn't have anyone in the top hundred."

"You saw all those boys who arrived in their school uniform?" he asks, grinning. "Well, you could write most of them off before they even started. They won't have trained; they've probably just done an inter-house race at school before they came here. They stood no chance. Some of the more traditional prep schools have the attitude that taking part is what matters. We don't believe in that; we believe that if you're going to do something, you should do it as well as you can."

Well, I'll go along with that. A couple of years ago I wouldn't have believed that some schools are even more stuffy and old-fashioned than Hartswood, but it sounds like they must be. I'm glad I didn't get sent to a school like that!

"So what about the school that won?" I ask.

"Winsthorpe College Junior School are always tough," he says. "They've got sixty boys a year to our thirty, they've been doing cross-country for years and the school's up in the Pennines; a course like this must seem easy compared with where they train."

Considering we've never done it before, finishing third is fantastic. Fourth team got one hundred and six, so it was vital that Evan ran; we couldn't have done it without him. I just hope he's going to be all right for Saturday.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Mr. Cooper's been at Hartswood for almost seven years. Before he came to the school, the rugby team was barely average, but since he arrived it's got better and better. Last year was the school's best season ever, with us winning fifteen matches out of eighteen, including a win against Martlington County Grammar School in our final match.

Well this year, we've done even better. Not only have we beaten all the other prep schools we play against, we've beaten Queen Elizabeth's Grammar School home and away, something we've never managed before. We also squeaked a 25-22 home win against Martlington too, although we were very lucky; their fly half missed three kicks at goal that he should have got.

So we're coming into our final match with a perfect record, played seventeen, won seventeen. And now it's the big one, Martlington at their place. We're in the minibus with Mr. Cooper with a coach-load of supporters coming along behind.

There's no conversation at all; we all know how hard this is going to be. Martlington is the one team who've been able to match us up front and their three quarter line definitely had the edge, stronger and quicker; their ball-handling skills were good too.

If their fly-half had kicked as well as he should have done, they'd have won at our place. But we want this; it would complete a perfect season. They're going to want to stop us, of course. We've beaten them very narrowly the last two times we've played; they'll be desperate to put that right.

We pull into the car-park and head into the changing rooms. Evan's walking next to me.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, great thanks!" he says, smiling.

"So how was the massage?" I continue, lowering my voice.

"Fantastic!" he says, "made me feel really good."

He pauses for a second.

"Nothing happened, if that's what you're thinking," he whispers. "I was wondering if it would. I was lying on my tummy just in my underpants while he was working on me. It felt so good I got a right hard-on. Then he finished and said I could get up. He must have seen it; it was sticking right up. But he just told me to get dressed and said I could come back the next day if I wanted."

"Oh, right!" I say. "So did you?"

"Yeah! Same thing again."

So it seems Mr. Thompson's being a lot more cautious about who he does stuff with than he was back before Christmas. Maybe he saves himself just for Martin; I guess that would make sense.

We change into our rugby kit and troop out onto the field. Even I'm nervous. It's a big occasion in another way too, the last match that I or any of the other Upper Fourth lads will play for Hartswood; it's quite sad in a way. I guess that'll all be forgotten if we win. Mr. Cooper has a final word with us and we stride out onto the field. After the usual preliminaries, the whistle sounds and we're off.

They're on us right from the start. When we played them before Christmas it was drizzling, the pitch was muddy and the ball greasy; playing fast-flowing running rugby was almost impossible. Today the conditions are just about perfect and although we're matching them up front, we've got their backs all over us. Apart from Paz, they're bigger, stronger and quicker than we are, and their ball handling is superb; they're the best I've ever played against.

The only thing that's keeping us in it is the kicking. Paz is scoring with every kick he takes; their lad is making less than half of his. As the half time whistle sounds he's landed one conversion attempt out of two and one penalty out of three; Paz converted Alex's try and kicked two penalties, so they're leading 13-12. After the mauling we've just had, it's amazing that we're still in it; we're going to need a miracle to win.

The second half is more of the same. We score another try, Paz making a dazzling run down the left wing before running round to touch down between the posts. He kicks the conversion too. At the other end they score two more tries, converting one of them, and we're giving away penalties like it was going out of fashion. Yes, we're making mistakes, but we're being forced into them. Fortunately, they only score from two of the four we concede. They give away a couple of penalties too; Paz kicks them both. We're approaching full time with them leading 29-24.

A converted try would give us victory by a single point, the same as last year. But it's not to be; miracles do happen, but not today. They close the game down leaving us no way through. The final whistle sounds with no addition to the score. I'm gutted.

I leave the field feeling more tired than I can ever remember. I guess it's always worse when you lose. We brought fifty-odd supporters and didn't give them the win they'd come to see; I feel disappointed for them as much as anything. It wasn't that we played badly; the truth is that we just weren't good enough. At least the scoreline was respectable; that's down to Paz. If their place-kicker was as good as he is they'd have buried us.

We make our way into the changing room, strip off and head for the showers. Everybody's pretty subdued; there are no celebrations even though it's our final match. We return to the changing room and start to get dressed. Mr. Cooper comes in, carrying something in a paper bag. As soon as we've finished he asks us to sit down.

"I know that you're disappointed," he says quietly. "But the fact is you gave a great account of yourselves against one of the best teams I've ever seen at this level. They've been winning most of their matches by twenty or thirty points; we beat them at home and held them to five points here. Remember that they have four times as many boys to pick from as we do, so that was a magnificent effort.

"And despite today's defeat, it's still been a record-breaking season for us. We've won more matches than ever before, we've scored more points and conceded fewer. That's been the result of a superb team effort, and every one of you can feel proud of what you've achieved."

He pauses for a couple of seconds.

"I do have one special presentation to make though," he continues. "I've been keeping records since the present fixture list has been in place, which is five years now. So for setting a new record for the number of points scored in a season, with the incredible total of two hundred and thirty four, this special award goes to Pascal Donnelly."

He produces a trophy from the paper bag; Paz goes forward and collects it. We all applaud; that is pretty special; it works out at an average of thirteen points a game; incredible like the man said.

"There will be a further presentation at Monday's assembly," Mr. Cooper goes on. "In the course of today's match, Pascal broke the record that Russell Pearson set two years ago for the number of points scored for the school team. The record now stands at three hundred and twenty nine. Okay lads; well done! Let's go home"

It was what we needed to hear, I guess. He's put it all in perspective, reminded us that we've a great deal to be proud of, even though things didn't end the way we'd have liked them too. I'm not sure many teachers would have done that. I walk back to the minibus feeling much better.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It's Rob's idea, not that I'm complaining, but I'm going to have to ask Alex about it, and even after being with him for over a year I'm never sure how he'll react. He's still very quiet, and although he seems to get on pretty well with everyone, he doesn't have many what you'd call mates. He and Peter are pretty close, but that's about it.

"Alex," I say quietly. "Rob's suggested that next Tuesday we could have a little foursome down in the trunk store, you know, Rob, Darren, you and me. I said I'd ask, but it's up to you; if you don't want to do it I'll just tell him to forget it; it's not a problem."

"Yeah, let's do it!" he says, his eyes lighting up. "That'll be cool, man! Darren's hot; I'd love to bum him."

"Great," I say. "I'm sure that won't be a problem; Rob says he loves having it up the bum. Then afterwards we'd have a swap session, you know, me with Darren, you with Rob. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, as long as you don't mind," he says, smiling. "Rob's got a beauty!"

So that's got that sorted out. Watching Alex bumming Darren has got to be worth watching. If it wasn't such a pain in the arse with the lights and everything I'd take my camera.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I let us into the trunk store. Darren's not been here before; he looks round in amazement.

"Cool set-up, man!" he says. "How did you get the key?"

"Don't ask," I say, grinning at him. "And don't tell either. You're one of a handful of kids that knows about this place, so don't go saying anything. You've never been here, okay?"

"Yeah, cool," he says smirking at me.

"Great, let's do it," I say.

We all know what's on the agenda. Rob and I sit on the trunk watching Alex and Darren get on the bed. We get our cocks out and gently stroke each other as they pull each other's clothes off. Fuck! I wish I could have filmed this! They're all over each other, kissing like their lives depended on it.

Within a couple of minutes they're both naked. They get into a sixty-nine. Wow! That is hot! Alex grabs the KY, squeezes some onto his fingers and starts to work it into Darren's bum. I'm amazed at how positive Alex is; he's in charge, there's no question about it. It's a total contrast to how he is with me. Darren doesn't seem to mind, from the way he's working on Alex's dick I'd say he's loving every second of it. Although he's a fraction taller than Alex, he's actually six months younger; he won't be twelve until the end of next month.

He's the only one of us that can't cum yet. Alex has been able to cum for months. He cums quite a bit now; it's creamy and almost white.

Alex lets his fingers slide out then gets Darren onto all fours. He kneels behind him, smearing KY over his dick. He crawls forward a few inches, guiding it right onto Darren's hole. He pushes forward and stuffs it right in. He grabs Darren round the hips and starts to bum him. Within a few seconds he's fucking him senseless. I know that it's not the first time he's done it; he and Peter bum each other regularly, but seeing him actually doing it is still a shock. Shit! I really should be filming this; you couldn't get anything much hotter. The Danish lot would pay a fortune for it.

As they build towards a climax, Darren moans and squeaks, begging for more; the intensity is unbelievable. I have to push Rob's hand off my cock or I'll cum before I want to. Alex slams his dick in one last time then collapses over Darren's back, gasping and growling as he unloads his spunk up the blond boy's bum. Man! That what a gas that was!

Alex gently eases his way out. Now it's our turn for some action. I bring Darren to sit on the trunk with me while Rob gets on the bed with Alex. I bury my head in Darren's lap, sucking eagerly on his slim three and a half inch dick, uncut like the rest of us, a little nozzle of foreskin sticking out past the head. He tastes perfect! After a minute I let him go, wrapping my arm round his shoulder. He turns to face me, our tongues dancing together. Fuck! He is so cute!

"Did you dry cum when Alex fucked you?" I whisper.

"Nah!" he says, grinning. "Nearly did though!"

"Well, I'll have to make sure I put that right won't I?" I say, licking his nose.

I pull him right onto me, our mouths meeting in a full-scale lip-lock. He kisses beautifully; I'm getting harder by the second. I pull away and stand up.

"Suck me!" I hiss.

He takes me into his mouth, sucking me as well as anyone ever has, his tongue working overtime on the most sensitive part just below the head; I'm tingling so much it's a struggle to stay upright. I glance across to the bed. Rob and Alex are kissing passionately, Rob's fingers working in and out of Alex's bum. I allow myself a little smile. Rob reckoned he wasn't into kissing; it seems like he's learning. They pull apart and Alex lies face down, his legs spread, the pillow under his hips. I have another little smile; that's Rob's favourite position.

It's time for us to do it too. I've positioned the desk so I can watch Rob and he can watch me. Darren bends over it, almost begging me to bum him. Alex is using the pillow so we have to manage without, but Darren doesn't seem to mind.

I stand back for a moment to admire my prize. Man, he's got a beautiful arse! His hole's already slightly open; he's been well fucked! I don't bother with lube; there's no need. I just step forward and stick it right up him. Well fucked or not, he's tight enough for me. I set right to it, bumming him harder with every thrust.

"Oooh Toby!" he moans. "Oh, yeah! Do it, man!"

Yeah, well I wasn't going to stop anyway. I look at the other two. Rob's down on top of Alex, fucking his big cock into the kid's arse with long, powerful thrusts. Alex grins up at me. Fuck! That is such a turn-on! I reach down and grab Darren's cock, giving him everything I've got, his moans and gurgles spurring me on. He bucks and shudders, his bum tightening round my dick, his stiff little spike jerking between my fingers. A few more thrusts and I'm there too, my spunk spurting over and over deep inside his arse. Man! That was off this planet! As a way of celebrating the end of the rugby season, you couldn't beat it.

We clean ourselves up and get dressed. Rob and Darren leave first, while Alex helps me put everything back where it should be.

"So was that okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, man!" he says, his eyes sparkling. "That was fantastic! When are we doing it again?"

"Next term, I promise," I say, grinning back at him.

We make our way onto the corridor and go our separate ways. We will do it again; you can be sure of that. Not all the time, but once I've got this final film made, maybe every couple of weeks or so. Now that will be something to look forward to!

39

The Easter holiday was great. I spent most of the time hanging out with Luke. He's cool, and really into his music. He's got some albums that even Uncle Andrew doesn't have, pretty amazing stuff too. So we didn't spend all our time having sex, just in case you were wondering. To be fair, we did plenty of that too.

Luke's fifteen now and he's got a beautiful cock. He fucked me stupid! It seems that his status as the school's top guitarist and the fact that he's a very good looking boy have enabled him to hook up with one of this year's new boys, a cute little thing by all accounts. Luke says he's fucking the kid; well good luck to him.

I did spend some time with the old gang, but we're just getting further and further apart. It's like I understand their life because I used to live it with them, but they haven't got a clue about mine. They can't understand why I wanted to go to a school like Winchester. Jason kept saying that I've changed; I guess I have. I haven't always enjoyed being at Hartswood; for the first couple of years I fucking hated it, but I have to admit that it's given me opportunities I wouldn't have had if I'd stayed at my old junior school. So I got that wrong? Well, yeah, I guess I did.

Mr. Thompson gave us a couple of past 'O' Level papers to work through. I think I did them okay. There were one or two bits that I got stuck on, but I could do most of the questions straight off. Looking back, it's hard to believe that I used to find maths so hard. Anyway, I handed them in as soon as we got back to school so I should know tomorrow how well I've done.

So right now I've got three things to work on: my maths 'O' level, playing cricket, and getting my final film made. For the first two I'm getting all the help I need, but making the film's down to me. The first thing I've had to do is to sort out the two older boys. Well, I asked Teddy, just like I said I would. When I took him down to the trunk store and showed him the film his eyes nearly fell out. When I told him how much money he'd get he went for it without a second thought; one down, one to go.

I was going to ask Justin, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It wasn't that he'd have said no; he'd have said yes even though he didn't really want to.

He's very sensitive about not letting his mum and dad down; I can understand why. Oh, he gets as sexed-up as anyone else, and from what he's told me he certainly enjoyed his stay at Patrick's house, but he does have to be careful. It'd put his dad in a very difficult position if anything ever did come out. So now I've got a problem; there isn't anyone else that I know I can rely on. I'll have to take a gamble.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

Tuesday afternoon and it's our first cricket practice. I'm not sure about anyone else, but I haven't picked up a bat since last year. I'll soon get into it; I always do. We set up in the nets; make that net; we've only got one. Craig bats first with Rob, Paz and Mr. Halford taking turns bowling to him. After sending down a couple of looseners, Rob bowls him a quick straight one, pitched just short of the length, the sort of delivery he always struggled to play last season.

To my amazement he gets straight onto the back foot, right up on his toes and brings the bat through perfectly straight, confidently punching the ball away. I've no idea where he learned to do that; I'm a natural back-foot player, but even I couldn't play the shot as well as he just did.

Pretty soon it's my turn to bat. My first ball's from Rob. It's full-length delivery, pitching on off-stump and angling across me. I shape to let it go through, but at the last moment it jags back towards the stumps. I manage to jam the bat down on it, just about. That was close! He's not just bowling faster than last year, if he can move the ball like that he's going to take lots of wickets. Paz is bowling much quicker than he did last year, almost as fast as Rob.

His first two balls are on a good length pitching on my off-stump. I meet them with solid forward defensive strokes. His third ball looks just the same. I go to play the same shot again, but the ball moves away off the seam. I edge it behind for what would have been an easy catch. Man! If these two bowl like this in matches they'll cause mayhem!

The practice continues. There's a different atmosphere this year. We've always worked pretty hard; Mr. Halford's seen to that, but we've never taken it that seriously. Well this year we are, all of us, with Craig, Paz and Rob leading the way. It seems that Craig's been practising at his local cricket club every chance he's had; that's why he's improved so much, and like I already said, Rob and Paz are bowling superbly.

The real revelation is Marcus. When he bowls he just trots up to the wicket, but his arm's so quick he's much faster than you'd expect, and when he's batting, well, if he hit the ball any harder he'd put it into orbit; he's going to be a big asset. If we keep working at it the way we've started, this could be a very good team. The practice concludes and Mr.

Halford calls us together.

"Right, gentlemen," he says, "the announcement you've been waiting for. I've asked Dominic Lees to captain the team and he has accepted. Okay, I'll see you all on Thursday."

That was a surprise; on the face of it it's an odd choice, but one thing I've learned over the past few months is that if Mr. Halford does something, you can bet there are very good reasons for it. If he says Dominic's captain, that's good enough for me.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I stand outside the art room, waiting;I'm a bit apprehensive about this. We play rugby and cricket together and get on great; he's in all my classes too, but I still don't know him that well. Partly it's because he's only been here a couple of years. He's never been part of the gang I hang out with outside of class; he hasn't attached himself to us the way Marcus has.

I picked him because he's very good looking, he loves to fuck and he's already been to the trunk store once, but how he'll react to the idea of starring in my next film is anybody's guess. There are footsteps heading along the corridor. A moment later he appears.

"Hi Paz," I say, trying not to sound as nervous as I'm feeling.

I let us into the trunk store and lock the door behind me.

"So what's this you want to show me?" he asks.

"This," I say, pointing to the projector. "Sit down while I get it going."

He takes his place on the trunk. I start the film and sit down next to him. He watches the opening credits, followed by images of Rob and Peter undressing each other.

"Shit!" he exclaims. "Is this who I think it is...? It fuckin' is too! Fuck!" He pauses for a moment.

"You made this, right?"

"Yeah," I say, nodding casually.

Well, he hasn't totally freaked, anyway. There's another short pause while he watches the film intently.

"I've seen your sports day films and that, so I knew you were good; I didn't know you were into making this stuff. This had to be professionally processed, yeah?"

I knew he wasn't stupid, and on stuff like that he's as sharp as a razor.

"That's right," I agree. "A company in Denmark does it. They pay me for the negative then they process it and sell copies mail order. They only sell them in Europe and America though, not in this country."

"You have got it worked out, haven't you?" he says emphatically, his eyes still glued to the far wall.

Rob's just cum in Peter's mouth. Paz looks like he's about to squirt in his briefs. The film runs on to the end without us saying another word.

"Man, you have been busy," he says as I stop the projector.

I sit back down again and pull out my bank book.

"Here's what we got for it," I say quietly pointing to the entry. "That's two hundred and twenty five, each."

He looks at me like I've just grown a second head.

"I've done two more since," I say casually. I point to another entry. "That one was with Peter and Ian, you know, the third year boy I go with." I move to the most recent entry.

"And that one was with Marcus and Gavin; I made that back before Christmas. The thing is," I continue, "they've given me a brief of what they want me to do next."

I pass him the letter. He reads through it.

"They want Gavin again, in a threesome with two older boys that I haven't used before. I wondered if you might like to be one of them. It'll be three hundred each this time. I told them that's what I'd want and they've agreed."

"Three hundred?" he queries.

"Correct." I say.

"And they won't be sold in this country?"

"No; we got them to agree to that before we let them have the first film. They just miss them off the catalogue they send to guys in this country. From what they've told me, they're selling plenty just in Europe and America, so they're quite happy."

"Who's the other one going to be?" he asks.

"Teddy Larsen," I say.

"Why him?"

"Because a little bird told me he'd be on for it, he's not bad looking and he's got a big cock."

"Fair enough," he says, grinning. "I'm in."

We shake hands on it, just like Marcus and I did.

The gamble's paid off.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

The other problem with this film is that it's going to be quite tricky to shoot; there just isn't enough space. I've briefed them all, but a single bed's going to be very crowded with three of them on it; they'll have to do exactly as I've said or you won't be able to see what's going on. Well, I'm about to find out. I let us into the trunk store ready to shoot the first two scenes. I haven't just got the lights and the camera set up, I've moved some of the trunks so that I can get a bit further back than I usually do.

I had a few misgivings about the script, so did Paz. Gavin didn't though, and he's the one that matters. Basically, I've told Paz and Teddy to pretend to be quite rough with him, and Gavin to act like he doesn't want to do it. He loved the idea!

We start with them all dressed in briefs, rugby shorts and tee-shirts. I run through the first scene one last time. I do have a spare reel of film if I need it, but I'm hoping we can do it all first time like we have with the others. I turn on the lights and position myself with the camera.

"Action!" I call.

Paz and Teddy drag Gavin across from by the door and dump him on the bed. They start pulling his clothes off. Gavin struggles and tries to stop them, but he's so skinny even Teddy's bigger than he is. Even so, it takes them nearly three minutes to get him naked. That's bang on schedule and no problems so far. Gavin puts his hand over his privates, but Paz pulls it away and sucks his cock. I guess the fact that he's already hard is a bit of a giveaway, but I can't help that. In any case, I don't think the guys that buy this stuff will mind.

Teddy grabs Gavin's other arm, pushing his cock right onto Gavin's lips. Gavin tries to turn away, but Teddy 'forces' his mouth open and 'makes' Gavin suck his dick as I move in for a close-up. It's the first time I've seen Teddy's cock, nearly five inches long, uncut and quite thick; on a skinny kid who's barely five feet tall it looks most impressive.

"Cut!" I say, turning off the camera and the lights.

I check the watch. Four minutes twenty two seconds, perfect. I know it's only the first scene, but I'm more than satisfied. I wasn't looking forward to this. It's the first film I've done where the boys have to act and I hadn't a clue how it would go, but they've been brilliant; they've done it far better than I thought they would. They towel themselves off and we all drink plenty of water.

"So how was that?" Paz asks, grinning.

"Fantastic!" I tell him. "You did great, all of you."

"It seemed a bit strange at first," he says, "but once we got started it was like, yeah, let's do it!"

I look down; I guess that's why he's got a hard-on.

For scene two Paz is sitting right at the top of the bed, leaning back against the wall. Gavin's on his knees in front of him, with Teddy pretending to push his head down onto Paz's dick. I'm a bit worried about this; they've got to make it look real, but they can't be too rough; we don't want Gavin puking up; that would not be good. But once again they've got the idea perfectly. It looks like Teddy's holding Gavin's head and making him suck Paz off; actually he's hardly touching him, just letting his hand ride with the way Gavin's head's moving.

"Uh, I'm cumming!" Paz groans.

I get a great close-up of his cock jerking in Gavin's mouth, with some of his spunk dribbling out of one corner. That is hot!!

Teddy takes his hand away, allowing Gavin to come up for air.

"Cut!" I call.

I turn off the lights and check the watch; two minutes forty seconds.

That's about what I was looking for; it's a bit shorter than usual because next time we'll have three scenes to do instead of two. I start to put everything away while the lads get dressed. I'm more than happy with how things went; those two scenes were probably the hardest to get right, but we've got through them without a problem. Despite Paz having a few reservations beforehand, once we got going he was well into it. I'll settle for that.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It's Tuesday and we're back in the trunk store to finish making the film, or try to. With three scenes to shoot it's going to be tight; we might have to put off the final scene till another time, but we've started five minutes earlier than usual, so I'm hoping we'll be able to squeeze it all in.

For scene three, I've had to compromise. I would have liked to show Gavin sucking Teddy while Paz sucked and fingered Gavin, but there just isn't enough room for that.

Instead, Teddy's kneeling on the bed, with Gavin down on all fours in front of him and Paz kneeling behind Gavin. I start with a long shot where you can see all three of them, then slowly move in for close up of Gavin slurping on Teddy's cock. After around thirty seconds I pull about halfway back then move back in again to show Paz working KY into Gavin's bum. Finally, I move back out to where I started.

"Cut!" I call, turning off the lights.

They hop off the bed, towelling themselves down and taking turns to swig some water. Man! This is hot work! That was three minutes twelve seconds, just about perfect. We've just got the fucking scenes left to shoot.

For scene four, we start off with the boys exactly where they were, with me filming from as far back as I can get. Paz and Teddy immediately change places. As Gavin starts working his tongue over Paz's dick, Teddy lubes himself up, moves in close and stuffs his cock up Gavin's bum. I move in slowly, getting an excellent close up of Teddy pounding Gavin's arse, before moving round next to Teddy, the camera aimed over Gavin's back as he licks and slurps on Paz's dick.

"I'm cumming!" Teddy gasps.

I move around and part way back as he shoots his spunk into Gavin's bum, holds still for a few seconds, then slowly withdraws, sinking back onto his heels looking totally spent.

"Cut!" I announce.

I'm not totally happy with it; if I'd been able to film them on a double bed I could have made it much hotter, but given the lack of space it's the best I can do. The timing was okay; at three minutes forty seconds it's a fraction longer than I would have wanted, but it's not a problem. I check the time. It's just gone quarter to eight. We need to be away before eight or Gavin might be missed. That could lead to some awkward questions, especially if they realise that it isn't Marcus he's with.

"Ready to do the last scene?" I ask. "We either need to do it now or leave it till next week."

"I'm ready," Paz says grinning. "Let's do it."

They get into position, with Gavin lying face down on the bed, legs apart, the pillow under his hips, and Paz kneeling behind him. I'm right back again, as far away as I can get.

"Action!" I call.

Paz lowers himself onto Gavin, guiding his cock onto Gavin's hole. As he sticks it in, Gavin pretends to scream. Teddy appears from out of shot, stuffing a pair of discarded briefs into Gavin's mouth before retreating again. Paz is totally into it, supporting himself on his forearms and fucking the kid as hard as he can go, with Gavin doing a very convincing job of pretending he's in agony. I move in close to get some close ups from the side then move round behind the bed, getting another great view from between their legs.

"Fuck!" Paz moans. "I'm gonna cum!"

I return to my side-on, halfway back position as he unloads into Gavin's bum then collapses on top of him. After a few seconds he pulls out. I move round behind the bed again as Gavin gets up on all fours. It's my bum shot, the best yet, Gavin's hole still partially open, the spunk leaking out and running down his legs. I hold the shot for around ten seconds till his bum finally clamps shut.

"Cut!" I call for the final time. "Well done boys, that's a wrap!"

"Are you okay?" I ask as I help Gavin get cleaned up.

"Yeah, course I am!" he says, giving me his cheekiest grin. "They didn't really hurt me; I was just pretending like you said. I've never taken two cocks one after the other like that; it was ace!"

They get dressed while I put everything back where it should be. By the end of the week the film will be on its way to Denmark and that will be it; my career as maker of porn films will have come to an end. I've done it and it's time to move on; like somebody said, always leave them asking for more.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

I stride along to Mr. Halford's office. My heart's thumping a bit. It's not that I'm in trouble; I'm about to find out whether I've got my scholarship or not. I knock on the door and walk in.

"Take a seat," Mr. Halford says, smiling. "I guess you're wondering how you've done."

"Sir," I respond.

"Well, you performed very well in both the common entrance and the scholarship exams. In addition to that, we've had to write a report on you, as we always do. Now when we do that, we have to paint the full picture. So we told them about how hard you work, your sporting achievements, your ambition to be a film maker and your wish to test yourself against the best brains around.

"But we also told them that you are very single minded, an atheist with some pretty radical ideas, and that you can be difficult and argumentative. I'm sorry Toby, but Winchester decided not to offer you a scholarship. I'm not surprised, to be honest. They regard themselves as educating the next generation of senior civil servants and Tory politicians; they're not very interested in boys like you.

"They've offered you a place, as they were bound to, based on your exam results, but no scholarship. However, you have been offered a scholarship at Charterhouse, who are very keen to have you, and for someone with your drive and creative talents, I think you'll do far better there than ever you would have done at Winchester.

"Film making is a collaborative exercise, as I'm sure you're aware. At Charterhouse you'll find plenty of other boys who are interested in the same things as you are; you'll spur each other on. And as far as the academic side goes, you'll get all the competition you'll need."

For a few moments I sit there without saying anything. I'm bitterly disappointed. Winchester was the scholarship I wanted and I haven't got it. And I haven't got it, not because I wasn't good enough, but because the school, well Mr. Halford actually, decided they needed 'to paint the full picture' in the report they wrote.

"Sir," I ask quietly, trying to hold myself in check. "Did you really have to tell them about, you know?"

"Yes Toby, we did," he replies emphatically. "It's important that the schools know that they can trust the reports that we write, otherwise boys from here would never be offered anything."

"So how did I get offered the scholarship at Charterhouse?" I snap. "I didn't even put them down. Did you fix that up, sir?"

"Well, with Tom being in the sixth form there, I do know a few of the senior staff quite well," he says quietly.

"And yes, I did have a word about you. When I told them you wanted to go to Winchester their immediate reaction was 'why on earth does he want to go there?' So I told them what you'd said. They told me that in terms of 'A' levels, university entrance, scholarships and that sort of thing, they're up with the best schools in the country.

"And I know that's true; we're hoping Tom will get a scholarship to Oxford next year, and if he can do that, I'm quite certain that you can."

I'm seething! I hate people trying to run my life! I'm just about to storm out, but somehow I manage to stop myself. Deep down inside I've got this little voice saying, 'he's right, you know'. My problem is that I always think I know best; I hate admitting I've got it wrong. I give myself a mental kick up the arse. I've got to stop behaving like a spoilt brat; that's what dad does when he can't have his own way.

Mr. Halford probably knows me as well as anyone; if he thinks Charterhouse is the best place for me, I guess that just this once I ought to trust him. And another thought hits me. With a scholarship at Charterhouse on offer, are mum and dad really going to fork out the money to send me to Winchester? Of course they're not. I take a deep breath.

"Thanks, sir." I whisper, not even looking up at him.

I stand up to leave. Mr Halford comes around his desk, putting his arm round my shoulder.

"Well done, Toby," he says gently.

"You've done superbly. I know you'd set your heart of going to Winchester so I can understand your disappointment, but you are making the right choice; you can trust me on that." He turns to face me, smiling warmly.

"I have to say that none of this looked at all likely during your first couple of years here, but you've turned it around and shown us what you're capable of. I think you becoming friends with Callum Shawcross was a big factor; you seemed to calm down a lot after that."

My head almost explodes; I'd always thought that he had no idea about me and Callum.

"I didn't think you knew about that, sir," I say, without even thinking.

"Oh," he says smiling, "There's not much that goes on here that I don't know about."

"I thought that if you found out I was friends with Callum you'd, you know, stop us hanging out together," I respond, still trying to come to terms with what he's just said.

"And why would I have wanted to do that?" he asks. "I'm pretty certain that you benefited from the friendship, and I know Callum did. He improved out of all recognition; I think some of your self-confidence must have rubbed off on him."

Wow! I can hardly believe it.

He's just told me that was long as everybody's happy and doing well, and we keep everything quiet, he's going to turn a blind eye to what we're actually doing. I wish I'd realised that at the time; I'd have told Pervy Atkinson to go fuck himself.

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

It's the week before half term. The cheques from Denmark arrived last week. They were ecstatic about the film; gave me all sorts of suggestions about what they'd like me to do next. Well they're going to be disappointed. After half term, when we've all got our money safely in the bank, I'll write and tell them.

It's Monday morning break; I'm on prefect duty on the ground floor of the main building. It's a beautiful spring day so almost everybody's outside, so it's boring more than anything. I stroll along the bottom corridor. Jamie Barnett walks past me, grins and disappears into the boys' room. If it hadn't been for what happened at the cross-country championships, I'd have probably ignored it. As it is, I've got a hard-on like you wouldn't believe. I think for a moment.

I'm on duty; I can't very well catch myself, now can I?

The only way anything could go wrong is if some trouble happened while I was 'otherwise engaged', and with virtually all the kids out on the playground, that doesn't look too likely. I turn round and follow him in.

He's standing at the urinal, pretending to have a piss. I stand a couple of feet to his right, open the top of my shorts and get my dick out. I glance across. He turns towards me slightly, grinning and showing me his cock. It's almost four inches long and uncut, pretty big considering he won't turn eleven till next month. It's still very slim though, a little nozzle of foreskin sticking out past his knob. I move my hand away and let him see mine.

"That's nice!" he breathes, his eyes fixed right on it. It looks like he's almost drooling.

I jerk my head in the direction of the stalls. We zip up and I follow him in. I sit on the toilet and quickly take his shorts and pants down. His cock's sticking straight up, pressed tight against his tummy, a real beauty for a kid his age; his balls are developing nicely too. I hold it round the base with thumb and index finger, carefully pulling at away from his body.

I lean forwards and take it into my mouth. I suck it eagerly; it tastes wonderful. He holds my head, pumping his hips. I slip my hand between his thighs, silk-smooth and creamy white. My hand slides slowly upwards till my finger finds his bum-hole. I tickle it for a second or two then push inside.

"Oooh!" he gasps.

He's getting close. I let him go and look up, grinning. We swap places. As soon as he's got my shorts and pants down he starts sucking my cock, doesn't even think about it. Man! He is good!

His tongue's going everywhere, working all over the head and flicking out to lick my balls; I hardly know which day of the week it is. It's obvious he's done it before, quite a few times by the looks of things. Now it's me that's getting close; I gently ease my cock out of his mouth.

"Are you going to bum me?" he whispers, grinning up at me.

I nod. He stands up and gets into position bent over the toilet, his hands resting on the seat. I look at his cute little bum. The area on each side of his hole is bright red. I was pretty much expecting that he'd been fucked before, but by the looks of things he's taken it within the last day or two. I've no idea who that would have been; right now it doesn't matter.

I retrieve the KY from the pocket of my shorts and quickly lube us up. This is it. I shuffle forwards slightly, guiding my cock right onto its target. With one well-practised thrust I'm inside him.

"Oh, Toby!" he moans.

He's very tight; I've only gone in a couple of inches.

I'm guessing whoever's been bumming him isn't all that big. I hold him round the thighs and slowly pull him onto me. He whimpers slightly as my dick goes in deeper. I touch his prostate.

"Ohhh!" he gasps, his cock twitching wildly.

Another inch and he's got it all. I settle myself, taking several deep breaths. Then I set to it, fucking him with long, even strokes. The sensation of the tight little sheath that's gripping my cock is indescribable, as good as anything I've ever experienced. I pick up the pace, bumming him harder with every thrust, his little moans and squeaks driving me to even greater efforts.

I reach down and play with his cock. Almost immediately he shudders like I just plugged him into the power socket, his bum gripping my dick even tighter. A moment later his cock swells and jerks between my fingers. He's taken me right over the edge.

"Nnng!" I gasp. "Oh! Ohh!! Aarrrgghhhh!!"

My balls fire into action, spunk racing up my dick and spurting into his bum in several big wads. Finally it's over. After a few seconds to get my breath back I slowly pull out.

Man! That was hot!

Jamie turns round and sits on the toilet.

"You cum a lot, don't you?" he whispers.

"So who's been bumming you, then?" I ask.

"Martin," he says, "Sunday mornings after training; we've been doing it for months."

He pauses for a moment to wipe his arse.

"Next term I'll be Mr. Thompson's boy," he continues proudly, "You know, after Martin's left."

Well it's worked for Martin, why not for him too?

"So doesn't Martin do stuff with you any other time?" I ask as we get dressed.

"Nah!" he says, screwing his face up. "Says he doesn't have anywhere to go."

"Leave it with me," I say quietly. "I'll see if I can sort it out for you."

0 o 0 o 0 o 0

When I walk into the dorm, Martin's lying on his bed with his nose buried in the latest issue of 'Athletics Weekly'. I squat down next to him.

"I hear you've been getting quite friendly with Jamie Barnett," I say quietly. "You know, Sunday mornings after training."

"Who told you that?" he demands.

"Never mind," I say grinning at him. "That's not important. But if you and Jamie want to do stuff together, why not ask Rob to put you on the list so you can see him more often?"

"I thought, you know, with what happened before Christmas, he'd say no," he mumbles.

"Man, that's ancient history!" I tell him. "And nothing came of it anyway. Well now you're a county cross-country champion, bronze medallist at the Prep Schools Championships and you've got a place at a really good senior school. You've got as much right to be on the list as anyone. Just ask, man; it won't be a problem."

"Thanks," he says smiling. "I'll do that."

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