by Rafael Henry

Chapter 7

The interlude with David was not only a surprise but a very pleasant experience for both of us. I'd noticed him around the place and we'd even spoken on occasions but that's as far as anything went. I guess it was one of those opportunistic moments that worked out. There had never been any 'chemistry' as far as I was concerned, and he's never given me any hint that he was interested. Anyway, he's got a jolly clean bottom out of the deal. It's always a huge pleasure to have one's finger gripped in that familiar rhythmic way as a boy bears his orgasmic fruit, or no fruit in David's case. I do like those dark and sultry looks of his. I wouldn't mind betting that there was some Mediterranean blood in him somewhere. That reminds me of something Gerald showed me in a book he had. At the beginning was a Turkish proverb…….'A woman is for duty, but a boy is for pleasure'. I don't know about the first bit, but I certainly agree with the second bit.

Bryn rang again about four thirty.

'So did they catch you at it then?'

'No they didn't as a matter of fact, but they did notice that I was in a certain condition which was all your fault.'

'Really? What did they do, run a mile?'

'No….well one left fairly promptly, but the other one didn't.'

'Oh. Don't tell me you had your wicked way with him?'

'He was a very muddy boy and needed a shower, and we're supposed to be saving water these days aren't we?'

'Indeed we are. So did he enjoy it then?'

'He seemed to.'

'How do you know he did?'

'Oh, just a feeling, that's all.'

'Ha ha…..very amusing.'

'A bit one sided if you must know.'

'Oh ok…..why was that then?'

'Just didn't seem right at the time I suppose. Not after your phone call.'

'No, of course not! Is he a big boy or a little boy?'

'A little boy. Big boys are very hard to find these days. The best ones are the ones that phone you up and make you feel nice.'

'Ones like me then?'

'Ones like you then.'

Chuckle chuckle.

'By the way, I've got a bit of news for you.'

'Oh have you? What?'

'You know we all apply for jobs this term? Well, I've sent off for details of jobs in four schools so far, and guess where one of them is?'

'Not here I hope.'

My heart missed beat when he said that.

'Oh yes it is…. exactly where you are now.'

'Bloody hell. Does that mean you'll be teaching me English next year?'

'Maybe, if I get an interview and beat off the opposition and get offered the job. You never know, I might. Pigs might fly……..and I'm not sure I approve of you picking up innocent boys in changing rooms.'

'It wasn't me Bryn, it was him actually.'

'Yeah, I believe you.Thousands wouldn't.'

'Seriously, it was him….more or less. Do you want to hear the details?'

'You're a bad boy. Go on then.'

I gave Bryn a full description of my coming together with David, or rather not coming together. I made it last about five minutes which should have given him enough time. I told him not to say anything until I had finished.

'Bryn…are you still there?'

After a few seconds gap……

'Yes, I'm still here Jon. Phew! Do you get good marks for your essays Jon?'

'Yes I do, it's my best subject. The Doc says my work is good, and borders on the bizarre as a matter of fact. I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not. Is it?'

'Not necessarily, but it does indicate a good creative ability so that's good.'

'Oh, right.'

'On that subject, I've been in touch with the gentleman who wrote about the 'boy on a plate'. Remember?'

'Really. How?'

'I emailed him, and he has graciously replied.'

'Oh wow! Did he sound nice?'

'Yes he did. He asked me if I wrote anything and I said I did, but not about such interesting stuff as he did! Then he said it was a free country, at least at the moment, and there was nothing to stop me if I wanted to. So I said I would have a go.'


'And I have. It comes in nine chapters and it's called ' Berrington Hall '. It's about a student teacher who does his teaching practice in a school down here in Devon. He befriends a couple of the boys and it goes on from there. One of the boys is keen on cricket like our student teacher, and they go off to Sidmouth for a week in a hotel while the boy attends a cricket course and our hero helps to run it. I've sent it to him by email but I haven't heard back yet. I hope I do.'

'Sounds fascinating. Is there any sex in it?'

'Yes, there is some, but hopefully dealt with in an interesting way, and not crudely or insensitively.'

'It has to be bit rude doesn't it….to be interesting?'

'Yes, up to a point. I've based the boy character on you Jon. I hope you don't mind.'

'No, as long as I'm allowed to read it.'

'Can I email it to you?'

'No don't. Someone might see it. Have you used your real name?'

'No….and I invented another email address.'

'Ok then….can you post me a hard copy?'

'Ha ha……yes, but keep it secure. Oh, and he's written another story called 'Myles'. You'll like that one. Myles is an interesting boy, believe me.'

'Oh. Should I model myself on him then?'

'Well, there's an idea, but I think you'd better read it first. You might not like or approve of what he does.'

'Why, what does he do?'

'You'll have to read it sunshine.'

I don't go back to Sussex for half terms. Most people do, but I hang out here mostly, and usually go to Uncle's place for two or three days. I didn't hear from Bryn for about a week. He phoned a couple of days ago to tell me that he had been invited for an interview here. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. Apparently, one of the English staff is leaving. I think I know who that might be. I think it could be the Doc…..he's my English teacher and the guy who owns the sailing cruiser that we went on last summer term for a couple of weekends. He's into boys bigtime. We knew he was and played up to him somewhat, but he never touched us……well not me anyway. I could tell he fancied me. Boys usually can tell if an adult likes the look of them…….likes the cut of their jib if you'll forgive the sailing analogy….and we gave the Doc plenty of 'jib' to like too. At times on that trip it must have been like a Henry Tuke painting, poor man. I could write an interesting story about that. He mentioned a couple of times how he never intended to be in teaching for long. He just wanted to know what it was like….sort of research for a book he was intending to write. He's an interesting bloke and a very good teacher. We all know he likes the boys but that doesn't bother us at all. Why shouldn't he? He'd never do us any harm. If he wanted to have a fiddle with me, he's welcome. He's seen me nude and with a stiff dick while we were on his boat. You should have seen his face! I sincerely hope he enjoyed it. There's so much fuss these days made by some stupid do-gooder adults who think they know how some of us think and feel, and by people coming out of the woodwork after thirty years telling lies about people. That's one part of the story of course……there's another which does not bear thinking about. I shudder when I think about what might have happened that day on the Downs. I might well not be here now.

David is a beautiful boy in lots of ways, not just physically. He likes me I think and wanted something nice from me, so I gave it to him. I didn't demand anything in return, and that was that… harm done…… least I sincerely hope not.

I didn't really feel that I had much to go home for so I stayed up here at school, and arranged to go to Uncle's for the Wednesday and Thursday. Everyone disappears on the Saturday afternoon after games, some of the more local boys get collected whilst the others get trains home. I had hoped that Arlo might have stayed but he didn't, and neither did his new best mate Robert. Oh well, it will be a peaceful week by the look of things. About half five, just before tea, Bryn phoned about the interview he was coming up for the following Monday after half term.

'I'm coming up the night before. The interview is at ten the next morning so I have to. I'm staying just over the road at the nice hotel on the corner. It's a bit expensive but at least it's close .'

He'll be there on the Sunday night. We all troop off to S. Peter's on a Sunday evening at seven, so there's no way I can get out and see him without going seriously 'awol', unless I can sneak out somehow. Still, I've got over a week to think of a plan.

The school have to provide breakfast, lunch and tea for those kids not going home at half terms. There were about a dozen of us left at tea, with the youngest boarders moved into our House from their smaller House nearby, which allows the Housemaster there, and his wife, to get away for a few days. Those boys get put together with us in one of the dorms that have empty beds. Boarding is on the decline these days, especially for those schools who tend not to attract the overseas pupils, and in our case we have, apparently, become so good academically that with increasing numbers there is huge pressure on teaching space with the result that parts of our House have been taken over as classrooms. My guess is that in a few years, boarding will cease to exist here altogether which will be a great shame.

One good thing about being stuck here is the uninterrupted access to the internet. We have a room dedicated to IT just for the use of the boarders which is vital these days. We can't do much academically without access to computers in the evenings as well as the daytime, so logging on to iomfats isn't going to be a problem. Bryn introduced me to it and rather whet my appetite I have to say. My plan is to work my way through all the stories written by the author of 'Boy on a plate'. Bryn says he has done precisely that, which inspired him to write 'Berrington Hall'. I can't wait to read it, and see what he gets me to do! I wonder if it's what he'd like to do with me? Maybe.

There was no one in the IT room on the Saturday evening. I sat at the far end of the row of computers, and the farthest from the door. I had two programs open so I could easily shut the one with iomfats on the screen. I found the name of the author of the stories that Bryn told me about, clicked on his name, and up came about a dozen titles. I clicked on the one called 'Myles'. I'd got about three quarters of the way through it when I heard the door open. I had no idea that David was still here.

He walked over to where I was. I could feel his weight against the back of my chair as he stood beside me.

'What are you doing? Why is your screen blank?'

I'd switched off the monitor.

' Why have you turned it off Jon?'

David gave me one of those looks that tell you that they suspect something, after all, why do people turn off the monitor whilst in the middle of something? There's only one reason, and David knew it.

'What are you looking at Jon? Go on, tell.'

'Nothing really, just something I was reading, that's all. You wouldn't be interested.'

'Why not? I might be. What is it? Go on, show me……..please Jon. Is it rude?'

'It is a bit. You shouldn't read it.'

'Why not? I want to. Go on Jon…please.'

I hadn't rationalized my thoughts, but somehow I wanted him to read it.

He started at the beginning of the text, standing to my left. After about five minutes he put his arm around my shoulders, and I could feel his weight against my chair even more than before. As he read, I would scroll down a bit further……

'I'm going to stop now I think David.'

'No don't, I want to see what happens.'

His hand started to move around my shoulder. Up to this point it had been still. Rereading the story was having its effect on me, and David too, because he took his hand away from my shoulder and took my left hand that was resting on my thigh. He placed my hand on his back. I'm assuming this is an invitation.

I'm copying with the palm of my hand, his hand movements on my shoulder. It's a mild form of mutual stimulation, and it's working.

I let my hand slip downwards over David's bottom. It feels firm and resistant to the pressure I exert upon it with my palm, and I can feel the outline of his underwear…….the most delicious sensation. Talk about a boy on a plate ! If ever there was one, David is it, and by my estimation ready anytime I wish to partake of that particular dish. I'm sliding my hand down the backs of his thighs, past the grey material of his shorts which end unusually, quite few centimetres above his knees, and on down to the woollen socks that adorn his perfect calf muscles, and then back to the place that I want to know so much, until now just hinted at but not explored.

We finished reading 'Myles' and closed down the computer, having deleted my browsing history. Our internet content is strictly regulated as you might imagine, so I was very surprised that I successfully accessed that site. David turned to me, and as he did so I could see, just about, that he was an excited boy. So was I, but I can hide it quite well if I need to.

'Where are you going now Jon?'

'Where do you want to go David?'

'I don't mind…….somewhere on our own?'

It was all rather quick due to our mutually heightened desire, but to put it crudely, we both needed to come as soon as possible. Sometimes you've just got to, either on one's own or very preferably with someone else. It's just one of those randy boy things when we get all stirred up with hormones and the feelings are just too strong to resist. We are basically all 'on a plate' in this place. In theory it's very easy to have basic sex with another boy. You just have to get the nod, find somewhere private, and then do it with him. Simple.

We nipped down to changing rooms which had a familiar ring to it, so that was quite appropriate. We had a hand in each other's knickers in seconds and not much longer before our stiff cocks were on display. I hadn't prepared for my result and I got it, such as it was, all over David's hand which I think he quite relished. He came more or less at the same time with nothing to deal with. It's quite amusing how boys that can't get it are fascinated with the stuff. I know I was when I couldn't get it. Immediately after I'd come, I realised I wasn't prepared.

'I haven't got anything David…….have you?'

'Yes I think so.'

Fortunately he had some tissue in his pocket. I rather wished he hadn't. I'm wondering if he's aware of any other methods of disposing of the wondrous substance we boys produce, but I can't suggest that route can I?

All the other boys in my dorm had gone home for the week long holiday. I texted Bryn about eight this evening, rather bored, and lying on my bed. I'd looked for David earlier and found him in the games room playing snooker with a couple of the younger kids sent up to us from Dyers House, now emptied of its residents who annoyingly couldn't go home for some reason. I don't care for the man who runs Dyers. He's rather a supercilious historian in my opinion, although there's nothing wrong with historians of course……..usually. Anyway, David was otherwise engaged and although I watch their game for a while, I left them to it. David barely acknowledged my presence, which hurt me bit I have to say. I watched him manipulate the cue into the various awkward positions that he needed to get into in order to play the cue ball. By the way, I found out that his grandparents were Greek, which explains his interesting skin colouring. The more I look at him, the more beautiful he becomes. I think it's his eyes…….they draw you right into him somehow.

The House is oddly quiet as I stroll around its corridors and empty rooms. I'm in David's dormitory. I can see his pyjamas folded on top of his pillows, maroon and white stripes. Most of the older boys prefer the baggy old fashioned pyjamas that do up with a white piece of stringy stuff, over the more form hugging elastic waist type which tend to show everything, and are favoured by the younger boys at night, not that they need to worry too much at that age. All the other beds are neatly made, apart from two opposite David's which look like they will be occupied by the displaced Dyers boys judging by the temporary piles of clothes on top of them.

Bryn wanted to know what I was up to, imagining me to wandering around the House alone. I told him that I wasn't alone.

'Oh good. Who's there then?'

'Just a couple of kids up from Dyers, a few senior boys, and David.'


'Yes, David. By the way, I've read that guy's latest story……..the one called 'Myles'.'

'How did you access that? I thought it was all controlled?'

'It is usually. I just typed it in and up it came. David caught me reading it.'

'Oh, what happened?'

'We read it together.'


'And…….when we finished we……'

'We what , Jon?'

'Guess what?'

'Not the changing room again?'

'Yes. Both of us this time.'

'Right. It was just him last time wasn't it?'

'Yes, but it was both of us this time. He'd not seen it before.'

'Ok. How was he with that ?'

'Fine……perfectly fine……quite enthusiastic in fact.'

Bryn said he would bring his story 'Berrington Hall' with him on Sunday afternoon. It's on his laptop. That's the answer if he comes up in the afternoon, I can go over there to the hotel and see him. It was a Sunday afternoon when Gerald and I were seen on the School Field with such disastrous consequences. This is going to feel really weird if things go the way I want them to. I feel nervous just thinking about it now. When I was talking to Bryn just now I got hard. I need David badly tonight. I adore Bryn, but I need David too.

Tea was fish fingers and bread and butter, and then at six thirty it was off to St. Peters for evening service. It's a massive church and cold with it. The vicar guy is a really nice man and I think he feels a bit sorry for us getting dragged up there every Sunday night. Still, that's life I suppose. Most Sundays, we make up the majority of the congregation. Perhaps that's why we're there. Maybe it's us who should be feeling sorry for him.

All us junior kids were in bed by nine thirty. Church was an endurance test. There were eight of us all told, and Mr Meredith, our Housemaster, wasn't one of them. Three seniors took us. I walked back next to David. We all watched 'Call the Midwife' and then Thomkins told us all to 'sod off to bed' and 'stay there' until the bell goes tomorrow morning….or else! Fair enough. He's stuck here too and must be a bit pissed off himself. Actually I quite like Thomkins. He's given me 'the look' from time to time but never gone further than that. One or two of the seniors befriend younger boys to make them 'comfortable' from time to time, so the rumours go, and there's a big thing these days about pupil safety after all the scandals. There are little posters around the place telling us who to go to if we have a problem. Well, we often have 'problems'! I've got one right now, but I'm going to read until I fall asleep.

I think I'll text David. His room is miles away on the other side of the building. The vast common room sits right in the middle on the first floor, presumably where the Bishop watched telly. No, he'd have sat in there reading the ChurchTimes in all probability.

It's six forty five by my unreliable bedside clock. What day is it……only bloody Monday! David said to text him again when I go down for a shower.

U awake?

Am now. R u ready?

5 mins?

C u there

It's pyjamas off and dressing gown on before going down to shower, and always in slippers, never bare feet. I've had 'wood' for the last five minutes and I'm looking down at it now with pj's down around my ankles. I'm of the opinion that I'm a growing boy in lots of ways. I'm actually quite pleased the way things are going. Recently, if I've been like that for a while, I can squeeze it and I get a little bead of clear sticky stuff come out of it. I always taste it. It's nice. There it is now, and if I squeeze it from the far end up to the tip, I'll get a bit more. There……another clear drop of it.

I wonder if David will be there before me. If I'm first, I'll wait for him on the bench outside the shower area.

It's ten o'clock now, and I'm looking at the football report in the local paper from Saturday's match against Watford. City won 3-0. I'm feeling quite good as I read it, not only because of the result but also because I've got a warm glow inside me. David and I had the most beautiful cums this morning.

David wasn't there when I got down, so I sat myself on the bench outside the shower area and waited. I could hear a shower going, but I knew it wasn't him because his dressing gown wasn't one of the two hanging on the hooks. I sat and waited listening to the water making that familiar sound as it sploshes over bodies and splashes on to the floor. But there were other sounds too……not voices exactly….sort of odd groans and sighs. Then I realised what it was. It was quite quiet to start with, but the sounds got louder and louder. Presumably they didn't think anyone else would be around there. I went over to the opening in the wall through which you go into the showers and stood just round the corner so if they should suddenly come out, I wouldn't be seen. I couldn't have been more than a couple of metres from where they were.

One of them had quite a deep sounding voice and the other was a younger voice. They were in the shower together doing stuff and the older one was pretty close by the sound of him. A few seconds later he made those sort of noises that told me that he had just come, and about half a minute later the other one probably inspired by the sight and feel of warm semen, gave his all, whatever that consisted of. I was as hard as a nail listening to them.

Oh my goodness, that was so unbelievably sexy!

I took off my dressing gown and hung it up on one of the hooks next to the others and stood against the wall with my hands behind my back and my cock sticking straight out like a little pole. You could have hung your coat on the thing, it was that stiff. The sound of water stopped and I heard the shower door swing open. Seconds later, the two boys saw me and stopped dead. To say they were surprised was something of an understatement. It was Thomkins and a kid from the Upper Fifth…….a boy called Spencer Ullman, an ugly little critter if we're being truthful. I can't imagine anyone would fancy sharing a shower with him, let alone touching his horrid fat little dribbling penis. Spencer needs to lose weight, but I'm pleased for him really. At least he's had some fun. Pity it had to Thomkins. He's not a very nice character in my view. Talking of bodies, I know I've got quite a decent one. Bryn says I definitely have.

Thomkins and Ullman just stood there. Both of them stared at my dick like it was the first one they'd ever seen. I thought it was quite amusing, but then several people have commented on my odd sense of humour, but I was careful to keep a very straight face. A smirk at that moment would not have been a good move. Then Thomkins rather abruptly asked…….

'What do you think you're staring at then, you cheeky bastard?'

'Nothing sir.'

I could have said…..'You're the one doing the staring mate!', but sensibly, I didn't.

Ullman's cock was about half mast. He's got a fair amount of wispy dark hair above it unlike my good self. I count about six fair ones in total. Ullman has one of those cocks that you can't imagine it getting completely stiff. It's like the rest of him…..not flabby exactly, but just not hard. Thomkins's was a superior article…..circumcised like me, and well-formed without being overly large. A nice object. I'd seen it before from a distance, and admired it.

'Who are you waiting for anyway?' Thomkins enquired, in a softer tone.

'David Edlin sir.'

'Oh. By the way, there's a meeting in Mr Meredith's study after breakfast. Make sure you're there……..and on time……..nine thirty ok….and tell Edlin while you're at it.'

David and I had the showers to ourselves. I put two on, feeling a little guilty about the water issue. If necessary, David or I, could nip into the shower stall next door to avoid being caught showering together. In the event we were not disturbed.

I'm a little taller than David, and I think a fair bit stronger too. By the time we got under the shower, we both had erections because we knew what we wanted to do, and we knew it was going to happen. Simple as that.

'Can I put my arms round you please? Can you lift me up?'

I knew what he wanted, and to some extent it worked. With a bit of adjustment I was hard up against David's bottom. I tried lowering him onto me and the sensation clearly excited him, but it was also obvious that we couldn't take our exciting little experiment any further. The important thing for me, and him, is the fact that we both want it. Another thing happened and it came about quite spontaneously. We kissed, gently. He had his arms round my neck and his legs wrapped around my middle, and my hands supported him under his bottom, finger tips gently prizing his buttocks apart in my vain attempt to penetrate his tight boy orifice. So near, yet so far. It's a fact that boys are very reticent to kiss another boy on the mouth. Most think it's a serious perversion, even if they are happy to be wanked off six times a day by six different boys. But kissing is seen to be crossing a boundary. The same boy won't want his cock sucked either, because he doesn't like the idea of doing that for another, and the attendant risk that his partner will fail in his general excitement to tell him he's about to deposit a teaspoonful, at least, of his warm semen in his mouth. So, if a boy will let you kiss him properly, then you know that there are probably no boundaries to what you can do together.

We hadn't planned it, but I think David must have thought about it beforehand. I had already made him come with my spread fingers, gently rubbing the firm little tube up and down, and my other hand usefully occupied elsewhere. When it was my turn, his slim fingers proved wonderfully effective, but suddenly as he sensed my imminent orgasm, they were gone, to be replaced by a hand on my hip and his mouth where fingers had been, his other hand slid between my legs, hard against me, pressure concentrated into my catharsis.

I have washed David now, carefully, respectfully, and thoroughly, and he has washed me too in our little act of purification and renewal.

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead