There were several reasons the new school year started out a let-down sex wise. I’d always been attracted to older pupils, but now I was one of the ‘old’ ones in my final year. And my experience with ‘Beach Boy Dave’ on the beach in the summer filled my fantasies with older, more mature experienced men. And of course it was a heavy year for school work with important exams in the spring. But even so in November after I stumbled over two guys sucking cock and what followed from that I was back to my usual permanent state of lust that set me up for later in the year.
It was a cross-country race between our school and two others, and this time around we were acting hosts. After an incident a couple of years back where a boy turned his ankle and it was several hours before anyone thought to look for him, we had a system where a senior runner of the host school, this time around me, followed along after the race at a slow pace to watch out of any strays.
So I was jogging along through familiar woods when I spotted a side path that I hadn’t noticed before, and as I stopped to glance along it I heard what sounded like a cry or a shout. I went a short distance down the path, and turning a corner spotted two boys from one of the visiting schools. I’ll call them Tree Boy for the one leaning back against a tree, his shorts round his ankles and a glazed expression on his face, and Blond Boy the one on his knees sucking Tree Boy’s cock. I stopped where I was and tried to figure out what I was supposed to do next, when Tree Boy gave a cry and was obviously cumming down Blond Boy’s throat.
And no sooner had Tree Boy stopped convulsing, he pulled up his shorts and set off back to the race leaving Blond Boy to gather his wits and follow. They both ran straight past me without noticing a thing, so I shrugged, and returned to the path and my follow-the-race job.
When I got back to school it was no surprise to see Tree Boy and Blond Boy had come in last, and were only just headed for the gym to shower while most of the rest of the runners were already gathered round the food table, which was the highlight of the day really. I checked in with our young (and hot) Athletics teacher Mr Peters that everyone was accounted for and the race timings, and went with him to his office off the locker room to write up the results.
When I’d been in his office last year, with Mike, my mind was firmly between my legs, and I didn’t really see much of the office itself, though I had noticed a window between the office and the locker room covered by a closed blind. This time I casually glanced at the window from the outside, and saw not a window but a mirror. Odd I thought, and then when Mr Peters and I were inside, I noticed the blind this time was open, and I was startled to see a clear view of the locker room. A one-way mirror!
‘Whoops’ said Mr Peters, ‘not supposed to let anyone see that. Oh well!’ He glanced out of the window, and paused ‘Uh Oh’, he added, ‘what do we have here’?
I looked up and there were Tree Boy and Blond Boy in the now empty locker room, sharing a hot-looking kiss, with Tree Boy nude and Blond Boy wearing only a tight-looking jockstrap that did good things for his ass, which was being heavily groped by his friend as we watched. I didn’t know where to look, here was I with a teacher, witnessing about fifteen broken rules in one moment.
‘Present company excepted’, Mr Peters said, apparently out of nowhere, ‘I prefer this sort of thing when it’s guys from the visiting school so I don’t feel obliged to even think about doing anything about it.’
In the heavily pregnant silence this remark caused, while my brain confronted the ‘present company excepted’ bit, we watched the two now nude boys head into the shower.
Before I could figure out what to say or do next, Mr Peters suggested briskly that I probably didn’t want to disturb them in the shower, so why don’t I use his own shower just off the office, and he’d catch me later. And he left, firmly closing the door behind him.
By the time I had come to my senses, found his very nice private shower together with a supply of towels, and spent ten minutes under the hottest water I could squeeze out of the plumbing Tree Boy and Blond Boy were long gone. I wrapped a towel round my waist and went back into the locker room for my clothes headed back to the boarding house to eat, and spent the next several hours pondering what had just happened here and what it might mean.
That was the last event of the cross-country season, so I didn’t expect to cross paths with Mr Peters again until the field athletics program started up in the spring, so our strange conversation in his office slid to the back of my mind, until I wasn’t really sure I’d heard what I thought I heard at all. Then just before Christmas break a notice went up posted by Mr Peters offering senior year boys a winter weight / strength training program starting mid-January for six weeks. This was something I thought I’d enjoy, and any kind of gym activity with Mr Peters was too good to miss, so I signed up.
Come the evening of a Monday in January I found myself together with six other boys at the gym when Mr Peters came in. He’d told us before Christmas the outfit for the course was sweat pants and a plain T shirt, so that’s how we were all dressed, as he was also. He welcomed us, and surprised us with a little intro talk:
‘You guys will all be leaving school in a few months’ he said. ‘If you’re not eighteen now you will be soon, so we going to do things differently. For a start, while in this room for this class, you can call me Chris, just like the grown-ups we are. And I’ll use your Christian names too, unless that causes you any problem?’
This was radical – we’d been referred to by surname from our earliest school days, and would never dream of calling any teacher anything other than sir. But it had an immediate effect of bringing us all together and breaking any ice there might have been.
Mr Peters explained the object of the course was to work on mainly upper body muscle groups with a combination of physical exercise and weight training, and after six weeks he expected to see significant strength and definition benefit. He didn’t promise us six-pack abs, but maybe we’d make four-pack! He would lead the classes on Monday evenings, and gym was booked out for us also Wednesday and Friday and he expected us to turn up three times a week if we wanted to benefit. Then he came up with another zinger. He turned to me and said:
‘John here will be in charge of the spare gym keys so you can get in and out if I’m not here. He’s done it before and he knows how the locks work.’ And this time there was no mistake, he turned to be and gave me a wink.
While we were absorbing this I and was the target of several curious looks, he moved us on:
‘OK guys, first off take off your shirts’ he said, and took his off as he spoke. And it was no hardship to follow along as he showed us the muscles of his shoulders, chest and back, what they were called, and what sort of exercise would benefit them, and had us identify the same muscles in each other, which caused much amusement and no small amount of teasing.
We all secretly, or not so secretly, admired how built he was, and the definite six-pack was just icing on the cake. I’ve said before Mr Peters – sorry, Chris – was a gay guys wet dream, and here we were invited to get half naked with him on a regular basis and work out together. I was so glad I’d signed up for the course.
After that every Monday Chris took us through an exercise focussed on one body part or another, we added those exercises to the growing routine on the Wednesday and Friday until after six weeks we were indeed both bulking up and slimming down in all the right places. By then we were on comfortable first-name terms with each other and Chris, and deeply impressed with his fitness and physique. At the end, Chris held a little ceremony and gave each of us a certificate, on the back he set down our ‘before’ and ‘after’ weight, chest, biceps and waist measurements as a token of what we’d achieved, which was surprisingly quite a lot. I know I was thrilled with how I felt and looked after six weeks of hard work, as well as by what seemed to be something close to a friendship with Chris. After the group dispersed for the last time I popped into Chris’ office to return the keys.
‘Sure you don’t need them any more?’ he asked, ‘I don’t see any special friend this year.’
Yet again he’d caught me on the back foot. What was I supposed to say to this? But this time he took pity on me, and carried on talking.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t tease you. It was pretty obvious last year that you and Mike were mainly interested in getting naked together, it seemed the safest thing to help you out with the keys. Of course I had to pretend to be oblivious, but the thing is, it sometimes takes one gay guy to recognise another. So don’t worry, no one’s going to hear anything they shouldn’t from me. It’s my ass on the line as much as yours!’
‘I, er, OK’ I stumbled. ‘No, it’s been a quiet year on the, er, boyfriend side. But it feels weird to be talking about it, especially to a teacher.’
‘I think we’ve established these last weeks that you can think of me as Chris, if it helps’ he offered with a smile. ‘And if we’ve established that these days we are a couple of gay guys in the middle of a supposedly straight world, I’ve two things to add before you’re out of here. One’s that if you need anyone to talk with about any part of being a gay teenager, I’ve been there not that long ago so you could try me out. The other is you’ve done really well in my class these last weeks, you’ve got a great look and a great ass, so you’d better be off before I do something I really shouldn’t.’
Yet again I was in a daze as I made my way back to eat. I felt a wonderful sense of acceptance from what he said, but beyond that, was Chris really flirting with me, or was that my fevered imagination off the rails?
The next few weeks went by in something of a blur, and then it was the Easter break. After that field athletics started up in preparation for the annual sports day in June. As before, I was one of the assistant coaches for the younger teams, which was a good way of relaxing among my academic labours, and I was often out on the field in the early evening setting out hurdles or timing heats for the various events. Of course this all meant working closely with Chris, and we soon dropped into a friendly relationship that seemed far from the previous formality of teacher and pupil.
One night after a long session with the under fifteen hurdles heats found the two of us putting equipment away in the hot stuffy ground keeper’s shed. In the close and dark confines of the shed I was very aware of how hot and sweaty we both were, his male aroma a distraction that made me freeze just as I realised he too was suddenly still. He reached out to my shoulder, turned me towards him, and kissed me. After a second of shock I was kissing him back, what seemed like years of pent-up frustration exploding into life. We feasted on each other for seconds only, when he pulled back, leaving us both panting.
‘Fuck!’ he said, ‘that shouldn’t have happened – not that I’m sorry it did. We’d best get out of here and find a cold shower.’
We quickly locked up the shed and headed for the locker rooms, I don’t know about him, but my mind in a storm of triumph and terror, thrilled by his passion and urgent for more. When we got to the locker room there was still a gaggle of younger boys messing about, Chris said quickly to me:
‘Go have a shower in my room, I’ll sort this lot out.’
Ten minutes later I was in the shower trying to calm myself and tell myself ‘it was just a kiss, right?’ when the shower door opened and Chris came in, totally, wonderfully, gorgeously naked. He stood there, panting slowly, looking at me, and of course I looked and looked at him, my eyes drawn inevitably to his cock. I loved his cock and his perfectly shaved balls hanging free and tempting, his shaft half hard, smooth long with a neat cut head, it was just—beautiful.
‘You can touch it if you want’ the quiet voice offered.
And in one inevitable motion I was on my knees and the hot hard tip of his cock was in my mouth. I licked his length and his slit, sucked on his shaft and squeezed his balls, relishing every taste and smell and texture of his body while the warm water cascaded over us. He was panting for sure now, groaning with pleasure, his hips beginning to thrust into my face – then he pulled me to my feet, pushed my ass back against the shower wall his body pressed against mine and his mouth on mine again, more urgently than before. He reached a soapy hand down between us, holding our two stiff cocks together, and worked his fist up and down jerking us both to a fast hard orgasm, our mingled cum spraying upwards over his hand and our heaving bodies.
We stood there gasping for a minute of two, then he pulled himself together and spoke low and clear into my ear:
‘This can never happen again – I’ll get fired and you’ll get sent home is disgrace.’
I was drawing breath to protest the idea of letting go of whatever wonderful magic this was when he continued:
‘Listen, I’ll only say this once. In three weeks you’ll be 18. That means you can sign yourself out of school on a Sunday from after breakfast until supper. If you wanted to do that, and if you wanted to catch the bus into town, I’d meet that bus, and I’d take you to my place, and I’d fuck your hot little ass. So it’s up to you, catch the bus or don’t catch the bus, either way I’ll be there three weeks Sunday. Until then, what just happened never happened, and you’d best get moving.’
He kissed me again hard and brief, grabbed a towel and was gone. By the time I’d got myself dried and dressed there was no sign of him, and I realised however hard that he was right, we were still at school, the stakes were too high for both of us, but – three weeks? Not too long to wait.
It was a slow ride into town, the bus seeming to stop every minute as my nerves jangled and my anticipation soared. Did Chris really say what I thought I heard, would he be there to meet me, what a fool I’d feel if I ended up abandoned in the town centre with nothing to do but get a bus back to school. But I was sure I’d heard his whispered ‘suggestion’ in the shower those weeks back – and anyway I’d soon find out.
I looked anxiously around as I got off the bus, my eyes slipping past then snapping back to the hot-looking guy in snug jeans and even snugger T-shirt. Oh God, there he was, a big smile as he moved towards me. And what a dick I felt in my regulation school pants, the only concession to being out of school the missing tie. He obviously read my thoughts:
‘Maybe we should go buy you a pair of jeans’, he laughed, ‘though I don’t think you’re going to need to worry about clothes much today. Thanks for coming, I was almost sure you would. Let’s get out of here so I can give you a warmer greeting.’
A few minutes out of town he turned down a lane and parked by an isolated cottage.
‘Used to be the gatehouse of an estate, I’m lucky to rent it, I enjoy the privacy, not to mention working on my tan of a summer afternoon!’
As he spoke he led me round the back of the house, to what was indeed a very private garden. He held me then, smiling into my face, and we kissed. Hot, wet and increasingly urgent our hands were roaming over each other’s bodies, and I felt his cock pressing against my crotch through all that fabric. He broke the kiss, whispering again in that intimate way he’d spoken in the shower weeks ago;
‘I meant what I said, I want you naked, and I plan on fucking you, but I also want today to be a day you remember with pleasure all your life, so if I do anything that you're not comfortable with, go too fast, anything, just say and I’ll back off until you’re ready.’
I think my brain was passed processing what he said, beyond being wanted and getting fucked a fuse blew somewhere. So I didn’t say anything in return, I just jerked his T shift up over his chest and my mouth was on his left nipple, my right hand grabbing the tight curve of his ass.
He pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it on a table nearby, his hands were on my shirt, the buttons undone (or in one case just gone) it a moment and we were both bare to the waist pressed together in a kiss, our hands urgently clawing at each other's belts.
We stumbled inside, he knelt and tugged my pants down and off, leaving me in tight briefs with a large wet spot over the head of my cock. He stood and slowly wriggled out of his jeans, giving me a show as he did so. I wasn’t too surprised to see he was naked under the jeans. The sight of his wonderful smooth cock made my mouth water and in seconds I dropped to my knees as I sucked the heavy warmth into my mouth.
I sucked and licked his cock and balls, squeezing and massaging his thighs and ass, amazed at how hard and muscular his body was. I let his cock slip from my mouth and looked up at him, all the time running my hands over every inch of skin I could reach.
‘Chris…’ I said haltingly, ‘I think I need to get cleaned up before, you know...’
‘I’m sorry' he whispered, ‘I should have said, come on, let’s get to the bathroom and I’ll introduce you to some more fun…’
As a learning experience, the next ten minutes took some beating. Chris talked me through the enema bulb and gave me my first load, told me to hold it as long as I could, let it go, and rinse off in the shower. He’d be listening for the shower and would come back and see how I was doing. Of course I was embarrassed as heck but he was so matter-of-fact and friendly it all went OK. He helped me rinse a couple of times with a bulb full of warm soapy water, rubbed me down with a towel, kissed me thoroughly and led me to his bedroom, where there was a large bath towel spread over the sheet. I remember that made me think of another towel on a beach not so long ago.
He had me lay face down on the bed and started to massage my back, shoulders, thighs and finally, wonderfully, my ass. His oiled fingers slipped into my crack, making me moan and writhe with pleasure. Within moments my knees were bent underneath me, my ass raised, my back curved and legs spread as far as my hips would go. His hot wet tongue ran slowly from my balls to my anus, circling that incredibly sensitive flesh. He teased me for minutes, my desperation growing until he pushed the tip of his tongue into me.
‘Oh fuck, yes, please, fuck me, fuck my ass…’ I incoherently pleaded for more, I wanted to be stretched, I wanted it to hurt, I wanted his cock, I wanted to finally know how it felt to have a man’s cock inside my body.
I felt his knees between my thighs as his probing fingers replaced his tongue, fingers coated in smooth slick lube he worked inside my hole. Two fingers, then three, I could feel a burn, as well as deep pleasure from his probing fingers.
‘Are you ready baby?’ he softly asked me.
‘Yes.. please, now…’ I panted, and the next moment felt the impossibly hard yet soft blunt head of his cock pressed against my ass. He pushed, and backed off, and repeated, each time pushing a little harder, his hands spreading my cheeks while I struggled and sweated, pushing my ass back to meet his thrusts when, almost unexpectedly, there was a sharp pain like a ring of fire that faded before I could cry out, and his cock was inside me and I practically screamed with pleasure.
‘Ahhh, fuck, baby’ he gasped, ‘you’re so fucking tight and hot. I knew you would be – you’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this..’
My entire mind and body were focussed on the sensations raging through me. I could sense the heat of his blood in his cock, I could sense it’s weight and size stretching me in a way that felt powerful and pleasurable beyond description. As he finally buried his cock balls deep in me the feel of those balls against my butt cheeks, the incredible tremor that ran through me as he drove harder and harder, the slap of his thighs on my ass, drove me past any point of control and my cock exploded into orgasm, cum flooding the towel as I spasmed, close to oblivion.
We collapsed on the bed, Chris’ cock still fully inside me, and after a few moments, I was thrilled to feel him resume his rhythmic assault. With me flat on the bed he straddled my buttocks, driving his stiff cock even deeper, re-igniting my fire until I left his cock swell up, and pulse violently inside me, thrilling me again as he poured his cum into my bowels.
An hour later saw us in his garden, sharing some lunch that neither of us wanted, still nude together, we talked about how we’d been fantasising about each other all year, I told him about ‘Beach Boy Dave’ and how I’d enjoyed the nude beach. Maybe, we thought, the two of us could somehow find such a beach after I’d left school – after all my parents wouldn’t question a ‘camping trip with a friend from school’ would they?
Half an hour after that he’d found a clean towel and I was on my back, holding my legs up by the knees as he knelt between my thighs and slowly slid his cock into me again. And this time it was slow, and thrilling in an entirely different way, our eyes never losing contact even as his cock grew and convulsed, again, and again, and again, inside my willing hole, and he slowly jerked me off, his cock still fully inside me while I came.
And so my school days came to an end, with just three more bus trips to the end of term. I woke up on those Mondays with a sore ass and a fat grin on my face, and we did go ‘camping’ that hot summer, and it was glorious beyond the telling.
