All the usual cautions, disclaimers and warnings apply. I want to make it clear that although I write about adult-youth sex, I do not approve of the abuse of power or authority. This is almost total fantasy. In this case, the story is completely true until the point where Brian has an erection. It is a memory from my teens but no sex took place. We did swim and do yoga after school and he did teach me to catch a ball with one hand - no massage, no sex, though he was gay. This is what I wanted to happen.
Mr. Wood on Wednesdays
Roger hated Wednesdays. He didn't like school much any more. Oh, the bullying had stopped. Well, at least on a physical abuse level. No one had actually hit him for the past three years since he was 13. Until then, he had quite liked school. He was very good at most subjects. No, until he was 13, school itself was OK. It was the break-times and the coming home from school that he hated then. That's when the bigger boys got him. Maybe, not even hated but feared. Now, he didn't like school much, full stop. It was OK on most days but not Wednesdays and Fridays. Though on Fridays it wasn't so bad 'cos weekend was coming.
Roger was slim now since his major growth spurt late in his 14th year. He was 5ft 10in and 10 stones in weight (140 pounds). His short hair was mid-brown and his hazel eyes were bright and observant. He was handsome but not very popular. He was a nerd. Most importantly, he didn't join in. His feelings about other boys were definitely mixed. As a group of individuals, he didn't like them much. They had always seemed to him as rough, crude, loud, too .. physical. He had never been good physically. His coordination was pretty poor. He couldn't ride a bike. Roger couldn't catch a ball. He was useless at football - any sports really. He disliked competition and couldn't grasp any sense of team sports, participating or observing. That had been the root of the excuses for bullying him. They thought him weedy, girly or wet and he was defiantly non-macho. Anything that boys were supposed to be into, Roger would dismiss as pointless, boring or puerile. They hit him for it. They teased him. They made snide remarks about his sexuality.
And there they had hit on the truth. Roger didn't think they really believed him to be gay but he wasn't sure. But he was sure that they were right. That was the other part of the mixed feelings. Some guys gave him fluttering sensations in his chest when he looked at them. He might feel a bit light-headed or faint. He would often feel a stirring in his pants. He thought about certain boys when he wanked each night in bed. He would imagine kissing them, holding their hand, hugging them and then as he neared orgasm the pictures were of them naked with jutting erections. Erections that he could stroke or suck. Sometimes he would imagine them fucking him or if he didn't like a boy who was crassly macho but he fancied him - maybe someone who had bullied him, then Roger would imagine fucking them, forcibly penetrating them and shafting them until they whimpered and sobbed in their humiliation at ejaculating with his big dick up their bum. They might not want to be fucked but by the end they would be begging for more.
So, what was a boy to do? No good at sports; hating sports and PE; and being scared of getting turned on in changing rooms or showers. Roger had tried going to games or PE lessons. He had thrilled to see all these guys stripping off; catching glimpses of their dicks; showering with them afterwards and desperately hoping not to get a hardon. Doing difficult mental arithmetic, thinking of dead animals squashed by cars in the road and anything else he could imagine which might put him off getting excited. But the exquisite torture of sexual frisson and fear of being discovered getting aroused or looking too long at someone's naked crotch did not compensate for the sheer horror or confusion about the activities expected of him in PE or sports.
He had first tried the excuse notes - both real and more often forged. He couldn't always turn up with a note so sometimes had to do sport or gym. About a year ago, he had decided just not to turn up. They had a new games master; it was the start of a new school year, if he was never there then how could he be made to do it. The teacher didn't know him from Adam so he wouldn't be challenged. All Roger had to do was keep out of the way until those school periods were over. And that was the nerve-wracking bit of the scheme. That was why Roger hated Wednesdays. Sport all afternoon. Fridays PE but it was then the end of the week so he could handle Fridays.
Roger had hung around in the boys' toilets for 15 minutes until everyone had changed and gone out to play football. He emerged to find some other place to skulk undetected until afternoon closing registration and home-time. He walked slap bang into Mr. Wood. Roger had been looking behind himself as he scurried along the corridor. Mr. Wood's arms closed around Roger and then held him firmly at arms-length by the biceps.
"Look where you are going, boy."
"Er, sorry, sir."
"Where are you going? Shouldn't you be in class? Why are you wandering around the corridors like a thief?"
Cornered, Roger blushed and stammered. He had collided with the games master - his beloved enemy. Oh, yes! There was the other angle on Roger's feelings about games. Mr. Wood was only 22 and was, to Roger's point of view, drop dead gorgeous. Brian Wood was 6 foot tall and had the body of a gymnast. Nicely muscled but not too bulky. A smile played around his sensuous lips most of the time. He often wore tight shorts and tight T-shirts, which left very little to the imagination. Or, he would wear sweatpants and top. You could see the outline of his dick in them and the tip would move beneath the pants as he walked. In a co-ed school he would have had to dress more modestly. Here in an all-boys school, no one thought too much about seeing bulging crotches and genital outlines. Roger was pleased about that. This man was very exciting. Roger had felt as if he had died and gone to heaven for a brief moment as the man had held him close to his chest.
"I've been for a pee, sir."
"What year are you in? You look about 16. Shouldn't you be doing games with me this afternoon? Who are you?"
Roger's customary quick intellect failed him. He couldn't seem to manufacture a false name and a false year at the same time. Lust numbed the boy's cognitive processes.
"Er. um, sir. Aah. I . er. Sir. I am. "
"I don't know you. I should know all the boys by sight if not all by name after being here for almost a year. But, I've not seen you before. Mmmh. Can't be new to the school. Your uniform is not new enough. Well, Mr. Stutterer, Mr. Corridor Creeper, Mr. I think you're skipping games, you had better come with me."
Mr. Wood gently but firmly propelled Roger to the changing rooms. One hand resting on Roger's shoulder, the other swinging his whistle on the end of its string. He unlocked the master's changing room and he pushed Roger in.
"Sit." He pointed to the bench. "Now, let me make this clear before you speak. You've had a chance to think of whatever lies you have chosen to cover yourself. I would strongly, very strongly, advise you not to lie to me. I am expecting dissembling and mendacity so, unless you tell the truth or your lies are foolproof in their consistency and credibility, I will not believe a word you say."
Roger wondered how he could lie to someone he loved, a man he wanted, a man he needed. Perhaps he had read too much romantic poetry, but Roger was a romantic idealist. No, he couldn't lie to Mr. Wood, even if it meant he was in deep shit or got expelled.
"I hate games, sir. I'm no good at them. No one wants me on his team. I don't understand the rules of most games. I've always hated doing them. I get out of them whenever I can. When you came, you didn't know me so I thought it was best just to keep out of your way and not turn up for games." It all tumbled out of Roger. All the pain and fear, all the ridicule and humiliation, all the being bullied, all the not belonging, all the being on the outside looking in - it all came up as overwhelming feelings and even though he didn't speak of all of it, it was there in his guts and sounded in his voice.
"What's your name? Just your first name will do for now."
"Sir, Roger, sir."
"Roger, you've been very lucky not to get caught by anyone so far and most unlucky that today I've left your peers to get on with their games without supervision. I wanted some quiet time to myself. In a way, I've skived off, too, this afternoon. I want to talk with you so you just sit there. First, I have to get showered. I feel all sweaty."
Roger watched, trying not to stare or let his gaze be too obvious, as Mr. Wood, unfastened his trainers. He removed them and his socks. He pulled off his T-shirt to reveal his nicely toned upper torso, lightly wisped with hairs between his pecs and in his armpits. Roger began to tremble. He felt scared and excited. He couldn't avoid getting hard and discreetly prodded at his erection to put it in a more comfortable position. Any moment now, Brian Wood was going to take off those tight shorts. Indeed, he did. He stood in front of Roger in his tight white underpants and looked down on the youth. Roger's eyes were fixed on Brian's very full and bulging crotch. He didn't see the curious look that the teacher gave to the top of his head. Brian hesitated and then shrugged. He pulled down his pants and Roger found it difficult to breathe.
Brian had a flaccid cock that hung down 4 inches, heavy and uncut.
Roger imagined having it in his mouth, feeling its rigidity and heat. His dick throbbed inside his pants and he felt as though he was going to cum any minute. Squashed dead cats, pools of vomit, turds floating in the toilet, blood pouring from an amputated limb. The imminence of ejaculation waned but the slight nausea that Roger felt increased many fold.
Brian stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain across. Roger sat nervously listening to the falling water, smelling the mix of sweat and perfumed soap.
Time moved in a weird way so that it seemed both an age and brief second before the water stopped and the curtain opened again.
"Hand me that towel, please, Roger. Thanks."
Brian rubbed himself dry.
"Don't be afraid to look, Roger. I am just another young man, like you. You can look at me, if you want."
What does he mean? Wondered Roger. Does that mean that he and I are just men and it just so happens that he is naked or does he mean he is gay like me? He thought that he might be reading too much into the remark.
Brian sat down on the bench, towel loosely draped over his lap but his crotch was uncovered. Roger wanted to look but didn't dare. He wanted to look into Brian's eyes but couldn't. He gazed straight ahead.
"I've always been good at physical things. I'm a natural athlete. I was a passably good gymnast but didn't quite make the British team but I was a junior national gymnast. I can't really understand why you don't like games. It was the thing about school that I really looked forward to. I think most boys see it as a welcome break from academic studies. Clearly, you are poorly coordinated but all the more reason to do PE and games. There are many boys who are hopeless at maths or can't get the hang of foreign languages. Should we let them skive off and not bother going to lessons, Roger? No, I don't think so. Similarly, shouldn't I encourage you to learn in my lessons?"
Roger began to weep. He couldn't help it. Mr. Wood was being so nice about it. He could see the point his teacher was trying to make. He was relieved that he wasn't in serious trouble. He was frightened and resentful that he would have to attend lessons from now on. He was sitting next to a fantastic love-god who was naked - his dick on open display just inches from him. Roger could feel the heat from Mr. Wood's body as it pressed against him. He just couldn't stop himself from crying.
Brain put his arm around the youth's shoulders and pulled him close. Roger could feel the man's breath hot on his scalp as the man pressed his mouth against the top of his head.
"I'm not an ogre, Roger. I don't like the idea of you hating me."
"I don't hate you, sir. I'm sorry. I'm trying not to cry." Roger snuggled into the warm strong arms.
"Just let all those horrible uncomfortable feelings out. I think I can appreciate that you feel all sorts of things right now. You mentioned being bullied in the past. You've said that you don't feel like other boys. You feel like an outsider - that you don't belong. I understand that. In many ways, I also felt the same. I spent all my spare time training in gymnastics. So what with that and homework I didn't have much time for friends. Other boys were mucking about but I didn't have the time. Other guys started dating girls but I wanted to get better and better at gymnastics. I didn't want a girlfriend. Oh, I see that you've stopped the tears. That's better."
He pulled away slightly and wiped the lingering tears from Roger's cheeks. "Can we be friends, do you think? Can you stop this resentment towards me? Perhaps, here in private, you can call me Brian."
"I don't resent you, . Brian. I love you." Oh my god!! I've said it. Oh, shit! What now? I've really screwed up, now.
Brian blushed and the pink flush went down from his face, reddening his throat, his chest, his belly and even his crotch. Roger was rigid with embarrassment at what he had revealed but he could still marvel at the spreading blush. His erection had subsided but seeing the pink blush infusing Brian's long penis had begun to stir him again.
Brian took a deep breath. "Thank you. I'm flattered. I'm pleased. Like I was saying, we have more in common than you realise. I said before that I had sneaked off to be alone with my thoughts. The truth is that I am worried about being a teacher. I have reached 22 years old without having had sex with anyone. Oh yes, Roger, I'm a virgin. I thought that I could live without having a partner. I thought I could just wank my way to the grave. I didn't have to have someone else. I'm realising that I have to review that decision. I want and need to make love to someone. I work amongst young teenage men - some of whom are very attractive. I see naked teenagers every working day. I watch them skimpily clothed in the gym, on the playing fields. I can't always concentrate on watching the game because some young man has caught my eye. I think that I have to stop teaching. Maybe, if I had a boyfriend it would help. I might not then get so obsessed with students. But to have a boyfriend could lead to others, students, parents finding out and not liking the idea of a gay man spending all his working time in the company of naked and semi-naked boys. So, my dear Roger, we are alike."
Roger put his arms around the naked man and hugged.
"Roger, you're the first young man that I have held like this. I have had bear hugs from my coach or other guys when I have performed well in competition. But this feels different."
Roger watched with wide eyes as Brian's dick began to grow. It lengthened and thickened and stiffened until it was about 8 inches long. Roger hesitated for a moment then reached out to hold it. He gently and slowly pulled back the foreskin and began to rhythmically wank his teacher.
"This isn't a good idea, darling. I think you should stop." He bit his lip but didn't make any move to end Roger's pleasuring. "We really shouldn't but I want you to. I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, Brian. I've been in love with you since you arrived. I've dreamed of doing this so many times. And now that I can, I'm be damned if I'm going to stop."
Brian giggled. "Perhaps you should release your own erection. Your crotch is looking very strained. Stop a minute and stand up."
Roger stood and let Brian undress him. A couple of minutes later, he stood naked with Brian's hands resting lightly on his hips. His 6-inch dick jutted out twitching and bobbing in front of the man's face. Brian bent forward and enclosed the rod in the hot wetness of his mouth and sucked on Roger. Roger shuddered and came.
"Sorry. I came too quickly. I was too excited."
"That's OK. At your age, you can quickly recover and get hard again. Your cum tastes sweet, a bit sour, a tiny bit bitter but definitely sweet. Here, kiss me and taste your cum on my tongue."
They kissed deeply and longingly, tongues flicking in and out of each other's mouth.
"I'm going to suck you, now. Stand up and let me sit down."
Brian stood. "It's bigger than average. Maybe you should just take the head of it in your mouth and wank the rest."
Roger licked up the shaft from the balls to the tip and back down again. He sucked each ball into his mouth and then gently nibbled up the side of Brian's hard cock, stopping just before the glans and opening his mouth wide to take the purple head. A combination of sucking and stroking had his mouth filling with spurt after spurt of the teacher's cum within 2 or 3 minutes.
"Mmmh, nice. A bit like swimming pool water and snot. No, really. I like it. You taste sweet, too. Look, I'm ready again."
"Sorry, sweetheart, we can't. The games will be finishing soon and we both need to get dressed. We can make love another time. But not at school. I want you to learn to enjoy your body. All your body, not just your dick. I guess that it won't work to make you attend classes. I want you to work with me some evening each week or maybe at the weekend. I will teach you some yoga. I'll teach you how to catch a ball. We will go swimming together. We can massage each other. I can see by your face what you think that will mean. I'm serious, Roger, we will massage properly. And, yes, if I trust you to be very sensible and discreet about it, we can learn to make love together. This will be our secret. I will tell my colleagues and your parents about the yoga and swimming. I think I can make them understand why I think it better than forcing you to do it at school. As a games teacher, I'm expected to do extra-curricular activities with students; so, it might not be too much of a problem. Are we agreed? Good. Come on, now, quickly, get dressed."
Roger liked Wednesdays. They were the best day of the week. Wednesday evenings were when he saw his boyfriend, Brian. Wednesdays were when he did yoga, swimming, massage and played catch with the man he loved and who loved him. And they always ended up having sex before he went home.
Fraser Cameron June 2002
sykray@hotmail.com