Hartswood Priory - Toby's Story
by Pink Panther
Chapter 2
Up till the end of last week, the summer holidays were pretty boring. To start with, we spent two weeks in Greece trudging around old ruins. Dad says that's 'proper culture'. What he means is that it's 'not like the stuff that Uncle Andrew calls culture'. Bollocks! When I'm older, maybe I'll really enjoy going to places like that, but at the moment I just find them boring.
Then I got packed off to a kids holiday centre for a month. I thought I might find some boys there to mess about with like I do with Callum at school, but I didn't. I might have done if I'd been able to hang around with some of the older boys, but they wouldn't let me do that; I got stuck with all the other nine and ten year olds, and they were even more useless than the kids at school. Some of the sports activities were okay, except I kept getting told off for being too aggressive. In the end I spent quite a lot of the time reading. Uncle Andrew gave me some of books to take with me. Dad didn't know, of course. One of them was 'On the Road' by Jack Kerouac. That was really far out! The guy who ran the centre said I was much too young to be reading that sort of thing, but that just made me want to read it even more.
But right now I'm spending a week at Uncle Andrew's flat in Barons Court. I've been here lots of times but it's the first time I've actually stayed here. I like it; it makes me feel really grown up. We spent yesterday at the Tate Gallery and the British Museum. That was great. I guess you're wondering why I liked that but got bored in Greece. It was because Uncle Andrew was with me, encouraging me to ask questions and explaining stuff. He asked me questions too, to get me to think about the things we were looking at. In the evening, his girlfriend Natasha came round. We had a meal together and watched some television, then I went to bed 'cause I was really tired. A bit later they went to bed too. But I wasn't asleep, I'd been reading. I could hear them through the wall; they were shagging! It made my dick go really hard knowing what they were doing!
Today, we went to a restaurant in Soho for lunch with a guy called Tim who's a film producer. Mainly I just listened while Tim and Uncle Andrew talked. It was very interesting; I didn't understand it all, but I got quite a lot of it. After they'd finished, I got to ask Tim about making films and getting to be a film director. He was great; he explained it all really well. It seems like the hardest part of making a film is getting the money together; I'd never even thought of that. Afterwards Uncle Andrew showed me around the area; showed me the Marquee Club where all the top rock bands played when they were on the way up. He even pointed out some of the strip clubs and sex shops. That was way out!
We got back to the flat a couple of minutes ago. Natasha will be coming around again a bit later, so we're just sitting on the sofa taking it easy until it's time for him to get dinner ready.
"Uncle Andrew," I ask, "is it okay for boys to play with their dicks?"
"Yes, of course it is!" he says, grinning at me. "Just about all boys do that at some point. You're a bit younger than average to have started doing it, but that's hardly a surprise. No, carry on, no problem at all."
"What about boys playing with each other's dicks?"
"That depends," he says, eyeing me suspiciously. "It's okay only if that's what you both want."
"Oh, that's all right then," I say, smiling up at him.
"Would you like to tell me what prompted the question?" he asks.
I tell him the story. If it'd been anyone else I'd have been really embarrassed, but because it's him I'm not embarrassed at all; he's like that.
"And how old is Callum?" he asks gently.
"Oh, he's twelve," I say casually.
"He didn't make you do it, did he?" he says, looking a bit more serious.
"Oh no, I wanted to. He's nice!"
"So you like him, then?"
"Yeah, he's all right; sort of sexy looking."
"Well, that's okay then," he says, smiling and ruffling my hair. "Lots of boys to do that, especially at the sort of school where you are."
"Why? I mean why boys at schools like Hartswood?"
"Because you're all housed together the way you are, instead of being at home with your families; you have to depend on each other a lot."
"Oh, I see," I say, smiling at him. And I do see; I understand perfectly.
"And is that as far as it's gone?" he asks, looking at me intently.
"Sorry, I don't understand," I say, playing for time. I've a pretty good idea what he's asking but I'm going to let him spell it out before I say anything.
"Rubbing each other's dick; that's all you've done, is it?"
I hadn't meant to tell him about this, but it looks like I'll have to. I could lie, of course, but I hate telling lies. Lots of kids at school lie to get themselves out of trouble, especially the sneaky ones; I don't. And I've never lied to Uncle Andrew; I just wouldn't do it."
"We've sucked each other off and he's bummed me," I tell him.
"And you can promise me he didn't make you do that?" he asks, looking very serious.
"No, well the first time we did it we were rubbing each other's dicks. Then he sat on the toilet and started sucking me. It felt fantastic! After he'd finished, he asked if I'd do him, so I did; he never made me."
"And what about the other thing?" he continues.
I tell him about our bum fingering games. "Then one day he'd just finished sucking me off; I was about to change places with him but he told me to bend over the toilet. He didn't say what he was going to do, but I sort of knew anyway. I was a bit scared, but I wanted to see what it felt like, so I did it."
"I'm not happy about him just telling you to bend over the toilet without explaining what he was going to do," he says, looking a bit worried, "that's not right. "So what DID it feel like?"
"It hurt a bit when it went in, well, quite a lot actually, but once he started doing it, it was incredible!"
"So have you done it again?"
"Yes, quite a few times; I really like it." Suddenly a worrying thought crosses my mind. "Uncle Andrew, this doesn't mean I'm queer, does it?"
"Probably not," he says, smiling, "it's far too early to say. You've taken things much further than most boys do, but that does happen at some boarding schools. Most of the boys grow up, get married and have kids just like everyone else."
"Oh, I just wondered, that's all," I say. "You didn't go to boarding school, did you?"
"No, I just went to the local grammar school," he says.
"So did you ever do any of this stuff?" I ask.
"Myself and a friend wanked each other off a few times; we were about thirteen at the time. I never did any of the other stuff though. I got interested in girls shortly after that. All I got was a bit of groping around to start with; I didn't have sex with a girl till I was sixteen. I had a friend at university that had been at boarding school. He'd had the same sort of experiences as you."
"Callum told me he got bummed by an older boy when he was, well, a little bit older than me, I think." I tell him, not really knowing why I've said it.
"Toby, you've got to be very, very careful," he says, like he can read my mind. "If you're ever tempted to do anything like that with a younger boy you must make absolutely certain that he's happy about it, d'you understand?"
"Yes," I say, nodding my head.
"That's especially true if you're thinking of bumming him. Anal sex, to give it its proper title, is the ultimate sex act between two guys. It's like normal sex; you either want to be with someone like that or you don't. To get bummed by someone you don't want to do it, or when you're not ready for it, can be a very unpleasant experience, understand?"
"Yes."
"And no trying to talk them into it," he says sternly. "I know what you're like! D'you know what the word 'rape' means?"
"Yes, I think so." I say quietly.
"Bumming a boy who doesn't want you to do it is rape," he says looking me right in the eye, "and being raped is one of the most horrible experiences anyone can go through. Now are you sure you understand what I've told you?" he says, offering me his hand.
"Yes, thanks for explaining it all to me," I say, accepting his handshake.
"And the same applies to you; you're still very young. You mustn't let anyone do anything to you that you don't want them to, either. And one final thing: remember the eleventh commandment!"
The eleventh commandment? What the fuck's that? We get all the bollocks about the Ten Commandments at school; I've never heard of an eleventh one!
"Thou shalt not get found out!" he concludes, grinning.
"Oh, I'll remember that one all right!" I say, laughing.
Uncle Andrew is so switched on! I couldn't have talked to anyone else like that, I just couldn't! He's given me a lot to think about. And I do understand; every word of it. "Thou shalt not get found out!" I like that! And it's not just about sex, either. I mean, I do stuff at school, like the thing with the pea-shooter, and get found out all the time. It's not that I like getting hauled out of class and being caned; I hate it! I still want to do stuff I'm not supposed to, but doing some really naughty things and getting away with it; that'd be much better! There must be things I can do; I just need to think about it more instead of doing the first thing that comes into my head. I guess I'll have to be more patient and wait for the right opportunity, that's all. I like that idea!
I'm on my way back to school, thinking about 'not getting found out'. Up to now, everything I've done, I've done completely on my own. The other kids have a good laugh and I get the cane. I've got to stop that, that's stupid! Somehow, I need to get the other boys involved, well, some of them anyway. I've got one or two ideas of the sort of thing we might do; I'm going to talk to Rob about it, that's Robert Shearsby, he's been my best mate at school since the day we started.
Rob's a great kid, brilliant at Rugby, quick, very strong and VERY determined; he'll tackle anything! If it moves, he'll tackle it! He's not a genius but he does well in class 'cause he works hard, and he's a real good laugh. But the best thing about him is that EVERYBODY likes him. If I ask the other kids to do something they probably won't 'cause they know I'm always in trouble, but if he says, "we're going to do so-and-so," they'll do it.
When I get to the dorm he's already there.
"Hi man! He says, greeting me long a long-lost brother, "How was the holiday?"
"Not bad, I guess," I say, giving him a wry grin, "well, some of it anyway. How about yours?"
"Yeah, okay," he says.
"Rob, I need to ask you something," I say quietly.
"Yeah, what is it?"
We sit on the bed in the corner furthest from the door, to make sure nobody overhears us. "You know I'm always doing stuff and getting in trouble for it?" I say. "Well, I don't want to stop doing stuff, but I do want to stop getting caught all the time. If I come up with a plan to do something, you know, will you help me?"
"Depends what it is?" he says, eyeing me suspiciously. "It's no good if we end up both getting caned for it."
"No that's the whole point!" I tell him. "Nobody gets caned 'cause they've no idea who did it!"
"So what've you got in mind?" he asks.
I outline the plan; it's something I saw in an old comedy film. Basically, before one of our R.E. classes, one of us it going to 'borrow' the chalk from Perky's classroom, that's old Mr. Perkins, who's been teaching here since the year dot. Everybody hates him; he's so boring, always going on about 'you kids don't know you're born' and all this sort of shit. Anyway, once we've taken the chalk, we'll divide it up so several of us have got a piece. When we go in for our class, at some point he's going to want to write something on the board, even if it's only the date, and of course, there'll be no chalk for him to write with. He'll ask us if we know where the chalk is and we'll bombard him with it.
"It'll all have to happen really fast," I conclude, "so he can't see where it's coming from."
"That should be easy enough," Rob says thoughtfully. "We need a signal; I'll cough or something. And we can't give any to the kids who sit near the front; he'd see them. But they're all babies; we wouldn't want them involved anyway."
"So what d'you think?" I ask.
He thinks about it for a moment. "If you can get hold of the chalk, you're on," he says, grinning.
"And you'll get the other lads to do it?"
"Oh, they'll do it," he tells me.
We've been back almost two days before I'm able to get together with Callum. Fuck! I've waited so long for this; my dick's so hard I don't know where to put myself. We lock ourselves in our favourite stall and start to undress each other.
"How was your holiday?" he whispers
"Not bad," I say, shrugging. "Got sent to a kids' holiday centre for a month."
"Really? Did you, you know ---?"
"Nah! I got stuck with all the nine and ten year olds; never had chance to do anything! What about you?"
"I went to one too, only for a fortnight though. Down in Hampshire; I go there every year. I went back to being a bottom. There was this German boy there, nearly fourteen, blond, really nice looking, beautiful cock! He bummed me every day, out in the woods!"
"Did you like that?" I ask, my dick getting even harder just imagining it.
"Yeah, it was great!" he says smiling. "I'd rather be with you though!"
We're ready; shirts pulled up, shorts and briefs round our ankles. Callum sits on the toilet and swallows my dick. Fuck! That is fantastic! It's been so long I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. I stroke his smooth, silky hair. Even that feels good! He gets my balls in his mouth as well, rolling them round like he's weighing them on his tongue. Fucking hell!
He goes back to just sucking me. A greasy finger touches my bum-hole and pushes inside. There's a little stab of pain; I guess that's cause we haven't done it for seven weeks. I relax and the pain goes away. He touches my prostate - Uncle Andrew told me what it's called - my dick twitches so much it jerks my whole body. A second finger pushes in behind the first. There's another slight stab of pain, but nowhere like as bad as the first time he did that. A few seconds later the pain's forgotten, his fingers sliding smoothly in and out. He sucks me harder. The tingling builds and builds till I hardly know where I am. Suddenly I'm shaking like a jelly, holding onto his head, my bum clamping tight round his fingers. My dick jerks violently in his mouth, two, three, four times. Then it's over. Fuck! I'm so dizzy, for a moment I can't even see properly, gasping and blowing harder than I ever remember. Very gently he lets me go. I'm so exhausted I can hardly stand up. Wow!
Very slowly we move into position. I'm still breathing pretty hard but I'm okay. Callum moves in behind me, the head of his cock nuzzling against my bum-hole. One quick thrust, a sudden sharp pain and he's in there. He waits for the pain to go away then gently pulls me onto him, his tummy pressing hard against my arse. He pauses for a couple of seconds, steadying himself, shuffling his feet a little closer. He starts bumming me, the head of his cock hitting my prostate every time he stuffs it in. Oh, fuck! My dick's not just rock-hard, it's throbbing too. He reaches down, fondling it with the tips of his fingers. I almost explode. My back arches, pushing my bum backwards as it tightens round his cock. My dick jumps around for the second time in less than five minutes. It's so sensitive I have to push his hand away. He grips me tight around the thighs, his cock swelling and jerking deep inside me, his spunk spurting into my bum.
And that's it; it's over, all of it. He takes his time, pulling out nice and slow. Fuck! I don't even remember it being that good! Man, that was something else!
We have R.E. twice a week. The first time is last period on a Tuesday. That's no good 'cause there's another class in there immediately before us. The second time is Thursday morning, after break. Now that gives us a chance. It just depends whether Perky remembers to lock up before he waddles off to the staff room. It might not be this week, it might not even be next week, but he's so absent minded that one Thursday he'll forget to do it, and when he does, we'll be ready.
A few minutes after the bell for the start of morning break I make my way to his classroom, trying to look as casual as possible. Everything's fine. I'm not challenged; nobody even seems to notice me. As I approach the room itself I take a look around. It's a fine morning so everyone's outside where I should be; I've got the corridor to myself. I make on final check and try the door. I can't believe my luck; he's forgotten to lock it the very first week! That just shows how useless he is! I let myself in, go straight to the teacher's desk and open the lid. There it is: a small box of chalk. I stash it in my shorts and close the desk. There's another piece of chalk on the ledge in front of the blackboard. I snaffle that as well and make my way to the door. A quick check to make sure there's nobody about and I'm strolling along the corridor like I don't have a care in the world.
I don't have long though; break only lasts fifteen minutes and we've got to get this stuff given out. I duck into the nearest boys' room and lock myself into one of the stalls. It's time to see exactly what I've got. The box contains four full sticks; the piece I took from the blackboard is just under half a stick. I break each of the full sticks in half, giving me nine pieces altogether, enough to give to all the kids we can trust and more than enough to have chalk flying at him from all directions. I rip the box into small pieces and flush it away.
I meet Rob as arranged, well out of sight of anyone else.
"Any luck?" he asks.
"Yeah, it was wide open," I tell him.
"Really?" he says, eyes widening. "You'd have thought he'd remember the first week! So what've we got?"
I show him.
"That'll do nicely!" he says, grinning at me. "Right, let's get to work!"
He leaves me with the partly-used piece from the blackboard and sets off to distribute the rest. I let him get on with it; on a job like that he's better off on his own. Five minutes later he's back.
"We're all set," he says quietly. "As soon as he starts looking for the chalk, we get it out. When I cough, we let him have it."
The bell sounds for the end of break and we make our way inside. Mark Wyndham, class show-off and general spoilt brat is standing at the front of the line outside the door. Before he joins the line, Rob whispers something to him. I'm alarmed, Wyndham is definitely not a kid we'd want involved! He sits right at the front in any case.
"What we you saying to idiot-face?" I ask as Rob lines up behind me.
"Just taking out a little insurance policy," he replies cryptically.
Fuck! I hope he knows what he's doing! I wouldn't trust Mark Wyndham as far as I could throw him! A couple of minutes later Perky arrives; he opens the door and we troop inside. He witters on for a good ten minutes about something or other; my heart's beating so fast I haven't a clue WHAT he's saying.
"Right! Time to get some work done!" he says finally.
He goes to the blackboard; there's no chalk. He returns to his desk and looks inside. All around me boys are taking pieces of chalk from the pocket of their shorts. Perky closes the desk.
"The chalk is missing," he says, trying to sound strict. "Do any of you boys know what's happened to it?"
Rob gives a slight cough; in the next instant Perky's bombarded by a hail of chalk from right across the back of the room. Rob's got a really powerful arm; his piece hits Perky on the head and shatters into several bits, absolutely fantastic! Then everything goes totally silent. Perky's standing there like he can't believe what just happened. Nobody's laughing or giggling; nobody's even grinning. We're all just sitting there, staring back at him.
"One of you boys broke into my classroom and stole the chalk!" he shouts, quivering with rage. "I'm going to get Mr. Halford to deal with you!"
Mark Wyndham puts his hand up.
"What is it?" Perky snaps at him.
"The classroom wasn't locked, sir," he says evenly. "When you arrived, you just opened the door and we came straight in."
Perky pauses for what seems like ages. Rob is a genius! Perky doesn't want to admit that he forgot to lock the classroom before going for his break; Halford will chew his ears off! Instead, the stupid old fossil just picks up one of the pieces of chalk and carries on like nothing's happened! We've got away with it, the whole bloody lot of us! Now that is MUCH more like it!
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