Hartswood Priory - Toby's Story
by Pink Panther
Chapter 1
I'm walking along the bottom corridor, seething. Two days into the summer term and I've just been caned AGAIN! As usual it was Mr. Halford, the deputy headmaster. He's a sadist; he really enjoys it, hits us as hard as he can. I hate him! Well, maybe taking a pea-shooter into the chapel wasn't such a good idea, but chapel is so boring and I don't believe a word of it anyway. "This school upholds the Christian faith," Mr. Halford said before he whacked me. Bollocks! Chapel and religious education; those are the two worst things about this place. I wrote 'God is dead' on the cover of my R.E. exercise book. I got caned for that too.
I hate this school; I never wanted to come here. I'd have been happier staying at the primary school where I was before, but there was no way my dad was going to let that happen. At the age of eight, well nearly nine actually, I was packed off to this place. I've been here nearly two years and I hate it. Well, that's not quite true, actually; there are some parts of being here that I like a lot, like playing rugby and English classes with Mr. Atkinson. But I hate what this place stands for, the stuffiness of it, the old-fashioned attitudes, the way nobody questions anything. This is supposed to be one of the more 'progressive' prep schools; progressive my arse! We have to do everything the way it was done the year before, and the year before that, and so on; nobody ever asks why. 'Progressive' means that we aren't addressed by our surnames, we don't have to have short hair, although most of the boys still do, we don't have to wear blazers, and our shorts - even the boys in the Upper Fourth have to wear shorts - are actually really short rather than the dreadful knee-length things they used to wear. Apart from that you'd think we were still in the nineteen thirties. And that's another thing; we have first year, second year and third year. They should call the last two years fourth year and fifth year but they don't; they call them Lower Fourth and Upper Fourth, it's stupid.
So why did I get sent here? I mean, what sort of dad is it whose idea of giving his eight year old son a good education is to send him to boarding school in the middle of nowhere? Well, let me tell you. It's the sort of dad who's only interested in his 'career', like nothing else matters. I know I don't. His 'career' in this case means being Britain's top heart surgeon, or that's what he keeps telling everybody. You'd think I'd be proud of him, being Britain's top heart surgeon; well, if he ever took an interest in anything I do, I guess I probably would be, but he doesn't so I'm not. He wants to be the first surgeon in the country to perform a successful heart transplant. You might think I'd be proud of him for that as well, except that the reason he wants to do it is 'cause he thinks he'll get a knighthood for it. You can just hear it, can't you? "And now let me present Sir David and Lady Redman!" So he sends me here so he can say "Oh, we send Toby to Hartswood Priory; the education there is superb", when what he really means is "We send Toby to a school out in the sticks so he won't be under our feet and can't run around with those rough boys from the local primary school." It's all bollocks, the whole lot of it!
So at the age of ten years and six months I am officially the school's number one rebel and troublemaker. That just shows how useless most of the kids here are; for fuck sake, there are kids here three years older than me. But it's all "mummy says this" and "daddy says that" and "Mr. So-and-So says the other"; they never question anything. They don't think 'cause they haven't got anything to think with, they're pathetic! Not all the boys here are like that - I nearly said 'thank god' but I won't 'cause he doesn't exist - but even the more switched-on kids don't speak out the way that I do.
Apart from Mr. Atkinson, the only other adult to actually take the trouble to explain stuff to me and to listen to what I've got to say is Uncle Andrew. He's a writer; does stuff on radio and television too. He knows about everything: films, music, art, books; he's really switched-on. Dad doesn't approve; says he's filling my head full of nonsense, but he can't say too much because Uncle Andrew's mum's kid brother and mum dotes on him. I think he makes his living as a film critic, but he does other stuff as well. He lets me listen to all the latest music and that. It was him that turned me on to what I want to do when I'm older; I want to be a film director. We've watched films by lots of the great directors, people like John Huston, Orson Welles, Franco Zeffirelli, loads of them. I watch films in a different way now, like I'm trying to understand what they do. Last holiday he smuggled me into a private screening of the film 'If'. That was way out! I'd love to be part of something like that, setting fire to the school and shooting the headmaster. Man, that was something else! Those are the sort of films I wasn't to make!
Most of the teachers here, or 'masters' as they like to call themselves, are so old-fashioned it's not true. I don't think they've even heard of The Beatles, let alone Bob Dylan or Jimi Hendrix, and they'd probably think Frank Zappa was from another planet. Anyway they don't explain anything. It's all "Do this", "Do that", "Don't to the other"; I hate it!
I go into the boys' room for a piss. The bell will go for lunch at any moment; there's no point in going back to class now. I'm standing there peeing when the bell goes and someone else comes in. I glance up; it's Callum Shawcross. One good thing about going to a school like this is that I know just about everybody. Callum's in the Lower Fourth, that's two years ahead of me. He's pretty quiet, but he's okay from what I've seen of him; he's not a prick anyway.
He stands next to me and unzips his shorts. I'm just about to put mine away and zip up when I realise; he's looking at my willy! Without even thinking about it, I take a peek at his; it's not huge, bigger than mine though. What does catch my eye is that it's sticking straight up and he's playing with it. Now that IS interesting! Callum's tall with long legs, so his shorts look even shorter than they do on most of the other boys; they make him look really sexy. Before I know what's happened, my willy's sticking up too. He reaches across and puts his hand on it, stroking it with his fingers. Fuck! That feels fantastic! I never knew it could feel like that! A bit nervously I do the same to him. That feels pretty good too, hard and hot between my fingers, like it's alive.
Callum smiles at me, cocking his head towards the stalls. Now I know I shouldn't do this, but for me that's the best possible reason for doing it; I'm like that. If someone says to me, "You mustn't do this," I say "Why not?" and if they don't explain it to me, and I don't mean some soft excuse like "Because it's dirty," I'm going to go right ahead and do it. Now I know I shouldn't steal, and I understand that, so I don't. But I don't understand why we shouldn't play with each other's willies if we want to, so why not try it? Anyway, we zip up and I follow Callum into one of the stalls. He bolts the door. The next thing, we're standing there with our shorts and underpants round our ankles and our shirts pulled up; he's rubbing my thing and I'm rubbing his. I like this!
"You've got a nice willy!" I whisper.
"So have you!" he responds quietly. "Don't call it your willy though; that's little boys' talk. It's your dick or your cock."
Right, I'll remember that; I hate people treating me like a little boy. Quite suddenly Callum sits on the toilet. At first that's a bit of a disappointment; I can't reach his cock any more. So what's he going to do now? He leans forward, licking his lips. He isn't, is he? He fucking is!! A moment later he's got my willy, sorry, my dick, right in his mouth, sucking it like a lollipop! Fucking hell! That is way out, man! I never knew ANYTHING could feel like this does! He's not finished either; he opens his mouth really wide and gets my balls in there as well, licking them all over. Man, that is too much!
After a minute or two he goes back to sucking my dick. I love it; he can do this any time he wants, the feelings are incredible! He slips a hand between my legs, stroking up and down. I put one hand on his head, to steady myself as much as anything. He seems to like it, sucking me even harder; my dick's tingling like crazy. His hand moves upwards so his finger's tickling me right there, you know, where the shit comes out. That is far out!
Suddenly, my muscles start twitching; my tummy's in a knot and I can hardly breathe. My dick's tingling so much it almost hurts; it feels like I'm bursting for a piss but that's stupid 'cause I only just had one. I try to pull away, but he won't let me. A second later it sort of jiggles around in his mouth. Fucking hell! I'm gasping for breath like I just sprinted the length of the rugby pitch. My dick's so sensitive I can't bear him to touch it. I pull back. He lets me go and looks up, licking his lips and grinning.
"Did you like that?" he whispers.
"Yeah!"
"Will you do me now?" he asks.
I swallow hard. I'm very nervous about this, but I can't chicken out; I never do. I mean, he sucked mine so I've got to suck his; that's fair, isn't it? We swap places. I take it between my fingers, studying it closely; about four inches long and three quarters of an inch across, the small purple head sticking right out past where the skin ends. His balls are a lot bigger than mine and hang down quite a bit; I guess that must be one of the things that happens as you start to grow up. I moisten my lips and take it into my mouth. To my surprise it doesn't taste bad at all; it doesn't really taste of anything much. I suck up and down a couple of times. It feels good; I like it. I'm not going to be able to get his balls in my mouth at the same time, but he doesn't seem too worried, so maybe I can forget about that.
He puts a hand on my head, urging me to continue, so I do. I stroke up and down between his legs just like he did, slim and silky-smooth; that feels good too. I even tickle his bum. Suddenly he tenses right up, tightening his grip on my head. His dick swells up in my mouth, something salty and slightly bitter-tasting splashing onto my tongue.Fuck! I never expected that! Just as quickly it's all over. As soon as he pulls his dick out, I get up and spit whatever it is into the toilet.
"You peed in my mouth!" I whisper accusingly.
"That's not pee, it's spunk," he tells me.
Oh, right, well, I sort of know about that. Nobody's told me, of course. Just let's say it's surprising what you can find in the public library sometimes. We dress ourselves and make our way out.
"Can I see you again?" he asks.
"Yeah, right on." I tell him.
"Tomorrow, after prep," he says. "Meet me by the science lab about six o'clock. We'll use the boys' room up there; it's quieter than this one."
I nod my agreement and we go our separate ways. I'll be there; I'm not going to miss that.
When I arrive, Callum's already there. As soon as he sees me, he heads off to the boys' room. I check to make sure there's nobody about and follow him in. We go straight to one of the stalls and bolt the door. We get straight down to it; we can't stay here too long, so a couple of minutes later Callum's sitting on the toilet sucking my dick. He strokes between my legs like he did yesterday. I'm thinking he's just about to tickle my bum, but he doesn't. He gets a little tube out of the pocket of his shorts, squeezes some stuff onto his finger and puts the tube away again. The next thing his hand's back between my legs. This time he does touch my bum-hole, his finger all cold and greasy. He doesn't just tickle it though, after a few seconds he pushes the tip of the finger right in. Fuck! I didn't expect that either!
I flinch a bit at first, like I'm trying to pull away. Then I realise, in a funny sort of way it feels really good. After a couple of seconds he pushes it in a bit deeper. That hurts a bit to begin with, but as soon as I get used to it, it feels even better. He waits for a few seconds then pushes it right in. He touches something inside me. It makes my cock twitch so it hits the roof of his mouth. What the fuck was that?! I'm gasping for breath; it tingled like I'd just had an electric shock through it. Man, that was something else!
Callum sucks my cock, working his finger in and out of my bum. Fuck! This is the best yet! My dick's tingling so much I hardly know where I am; I have to keep hold of his head to stop myself falling over. Suddenly I'm shaking like a leaf and gasping like an old steam engine, my bum tightening sharply round his finger. My dick jumps up with a life of its own, jerking around in his mouth even harder than it did yesterday. After a few seconds he gently eases back, letting my dick slide out of his mouth. A moment later his finger slips gently out of my bum. Wow! That was really far out!
We change places. It doesn't take me more than a moment to work out how he knows about the finger up the bum trick. Somebody's done it to him, an older boy probably, that's how he knows how good it feels.
"Give me the stuff!" I whisper, grinning up at him.
He passes me the tube; I squeeze some onto my finger and give it back. I lean forward, get his cock in my mouth and start sucking. As soon as I've got going I slip my hand between his legs, feeling around till I find his bum-hole. I put my greased-up finger on it and push. It slides right into him, no problem at all. His cock twitches in my mouth. Well, that answers both my questions: he's well used to having this done to him, and he likes it. I suck him harder, working my finger in and out the whole time. Suddenly he grabs my head. His cock jerks violently, the salty stuff squirting into my mouth in three or four little jets. Right, well I know what it is now: semen, mainly protein and certainly not poisonous, and actually, it tastes okay. I take a deep breath and gulp it down.
So that's it; I've done it, I've swallowed his spunk. Mummy and daddy definitely wouldn't like me doing that! Well, that's hard luck; they shouldn't have sent me here. I'm guessing that me and Callum are going to be doing a lot more of this.
I guessed right; I've been going with Callum for three weeks now. We don't do it every day, just three or four days a week. We vary our routine too; different times, different places. Callum's brighter than I gave him credit for; he's taken me to some hiding places I didn't even know existed. We do the same things every time, more or less; sucking each other off with a finger up the other one's bum. I love it; it's fantastic! When I say more or less, about a week ago Callum was sucking me like he usually does. Then he pushed a second finger into my bum. Now that DID hurt! Well it did till I got used to it; it was okay after that. I'm not really sure why he does it though; it doesn't feel any better than when he does it with one, so why bother? I could ask, but I'm not going to. Like I said, I'm used to it now, so it doesn't really matter.
Today we're back in the boys' room by the science lab. It might not be as safe as some of the other places we've used, but it's a lot more comfortable. Callum's sitting in front of me sucking me off and working two fingers in and out of my bum. It feels fantastic; the sensations in my dick are unbelievable. Gradually, the tingling starts to build; I know I'm getting close. Even so, my orgasm hits me like a runaway train, I'm shaking and gasping, my bum clamping tight round Callum's fingers, my cock trying to pump out the spunk my balls aren't making yet. Fuck! It blows my mind every time it happens! Very gently he lets me go.
I'm about to swap over with him, but he stops me, shaking his head.
"Bend over the toilet!" he whispers.
Shit! Another runaway train just hit me! So that's why he's been using two fingers; he's going to bum me! Fuck! I think I'm the clever one; I should have worked that out the first time he did it! I've sort of known about bumming for a while, from overhearing some of the older boys, that sort of thing, but I never thought I'd be the one getting done. Now I don't have to do it. I mean, a suck for a suck is one thing. That's fair; this isn't, and Callum's not making me, so I can say no if I want to. But I don't want to. For one thing meeting Callum's been great; I love doing stuff with him. For another, there's this little voice inside me somewhere telling me to give it a try; I won't know whether I like it if I don't. But the most important reason is that I never chicken out of ANYTHING, unless it's so obviously dangerous and stupid that only a moron would do it.
I get into position, my hands resting on the seat, my feet about shoulder-width apart. Callum shuffles round behind me. I glance over my shoulder; he's smearing the greasy stuff over his dick. He moves in closer, guiding it onto my bum-hole. I take several deep breaths, trying to relax like I do when he uses his fingers. He pushes hard. For a moment nothing happens. Then there's a sharp, stabbing pain as it goes into me. FUCK!! I gasp for air, trying desperately to relax again. Callum holds still, letting me get used to him being there. Gradually the pain ebbs away, my breathing returning to normal. I'd guess he's got an inch or so up me, the head and a little bit more.
After around half a minute he holds me round the hips and slowly pulls me onto him. His cock hits the hard thing inside me, my cock twitching wildly without either of us even touching it. A few seconds later his tummy's pressed up tight against my bum. Funny, once he got it in, it seemed to go up a lot easier than fingers do. He pauses again.
"Relax, Toby!" he whispers. "You've got it all now!
Then he starts, pumping his cock in and out of my bum, hitting the hard thing over and over. In what seems like no time my cock's sticking right up and twitching like crazy. It's not difficult to work out how this is going to end; instead of his spunk squirting into my mouth, it's going to go up there. Suddenly his breathing becomes harsh and uneven. He holds me tight, slamming his cock right into me. It jerks powerfully a couple of times; a third, weaker pulse follows. I don't actually feel his stuff going into me, but I know it is. Then it's over. He takes several seconds to get his breath back then slowly withdraws, his cock coming out with a quiet, popping sound. I'm a bit sore and my bum feels a bit messy, but it's nothing to worry about. We dress quickly and make our way onto the corridor.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, man; that was something else!" I tell him.
"It was for me too; I've never bummed a boy before."
"So have you been bummed?" I counter.
"Yeah, lots," he says. "One of the older boys used to do it. He's left now."
So I was right; that IS how it works: older boys train younger ones. So in just over a year's time, when I get into the Lower Fourth, maybe I'll find a younger boy who'll let me do that to him. Well, I wouldn't say 'no'; it might even be worth sticking around for.
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