Date: Mon, 1 Feb 2010 10:54:33 +0000
From: Josh Cock <joshcock@hotmail.com>
Subject: Gareth 1

As usual, the standard disclaimers apply; if for any reason, you should not
be reading this story, then you have been warned. This is a work of
fiction, intended for those who enjoy being entertained by reading material
of this nature.

For those who are so entertained, `Gareth' is a love story divided into two
parts for the convenience of those who may not have the time to read it all
in one sitting.



Gareth



Gareth took his time in the shower, enjoying the feel of the not too hot
spray on his naked body. Gareth liked showers, enjoyed the way he could
alter the nature of the spray, from soft and gentle to a more forceful and
concentrated jet, and when he had it like that, he was in the habit of
bending forwards so the warm, concentrated, jet of water played on his
opened crack, and if he could position himself just right, it would be
directed right onto his arsehole. Gareth loved that! When he had the shower
like that, it usually finished with him wanking, smothering his front,
chest, legs and groin, with soapy lather, so his hands slipped over his
skin and his cock felt really special as his soapy hands brought it to
orgasm, and his spunk mixed with the soap foam and made it seem as though
he'd squirted loads instead of the meagre amount he normally produced.

Not that Gareth couldn't squirt loads; his kit was in full working order,
it was simply that Gareth preferred to have six or seven meagre squirts in
a day, rather than just one big one. Gareth loved orgasms, he was addicted
to orgasms. He loved the way the feeling of spunking started sort of at the
back of his balls, spread into his groin and lower stomach, made the
muscles in his legs go really tense and tight, spread all the way through
his body until he was stiff all over, and finally flowed up his cock as his
sperm made its way out. That wasn't the sort of feeling Gareth wanted once
a day when he could experience it a lot, lot more often!

Not today, though, today was different. No wanking in the shower, no
wanking when he woke up this morning, indeed, no wanking since yesterday
afternoon; Gareth's balls were well full; full, he smirked to himself, of a
big, thick, creamy load.

Carefully he checked his well washed, lithe, slender body and reached for
his Gillette Fusion, battery powered, razor. A few weeks ago he'd
discovered that the tiny, fine hairs on his thighs were no longer so tiny
and fine on the backs of his legs; they had to go! Gareth hated hair on his
body, nasty, unsightly stuff, so he bought the razor and removed the
unwanted hair. He only needed to shave about once a week or so, and really
it was only the back of his thighs that needed doing, but Gareth did the
fronts as well and found that he really liked the totally smooth, silky
feel of his legs after he'd shaved them; it added something extra to his
wanking.

He'd thought about it for around twenty seconds or so after he'd had his
first, freshly leg shaved wank, and decided that his cock and balls would
feel better without hair as well, so he'd given himself a rule: no hair
below the root of his cock, no hair in the bits between groin and legs, no
hair more than an inch above cock base, nothing under his arms and, most
important of all, absolutely nothing in his arse crack.

He shaved his thighs with care, doing each leg three times to ensure not
one single hint of anything remained, and then, with even greater care did
his balls and cock, trimmed his pubes to perfection and removed anything
that spoiled the total smoothness of his arse. Under the arms had to wait
until he was out of the shower and in front of the mirror, partly because
he didn't want to miss anything, and partly because he wanted to remove
hair, not skin.

His toilette completed, Gareth admired himself in the full length bathroom
mirror.

"Fuckin' hot!" he thought as he stared at his reflection. Nice, long and
perfectly shaped, slender thighs leading the eye up to his long foreskinned
cock hanging limply over his unusually full balls.

It wasn't an exceptional cock, just under five inches when hard, which it
was for a lot of the time, and not over thick; nothing exceptional, but
Gareth liked it and it fitted his hand perfectly!

Slender hips, seriously narrow waist, slender, but well developed, chest
with two, tempting, brown nipple nubs, just a shade more pink than the
brown setting they protruded from, shoulders that had just enough flesh on
them not to be bony, and a delicate, slender neck. Nothing really special
about his face, but his dark eyes were, he thought, interesting, and his
lips were thick enough and red enough to hint of uses they could be put
to. `Good, snoggin' lips' were how Gareth described them to himself.

His hair was a mass of dark, natural, tight curls that all he ever had to
do with it was wash, dry and brush it, no need for tons of gel or fancy,
expensive cuts.

"Well fuckin' hot," Gareth thought again, gave his balls a quick grope, and
then concentrated on getting dressed.

Gareth was fifteen, fifteen and six weeks, to be precise. At the age of ten
and three quarters it had been made very clear to Gareth that playing with
himself was something he should not do. He had been on summer holiday,
staying with friends of an uncle in deepest, darkest, Suffolk. The friends
had a son, six months younger than Gareth, and the son had two friends who
lived next door, one eleven and one twelve. Those three boys had explained,
very carefully, to Gareth, both in theory and in practice, that one should
not play with one's own cock when there were others around to play with it
instead.

He learned very quickly, in about thirty seconds, that his little cock was
much happier when it was in someone else's hand, and that his own hand
found someone else's cock much nicer to hold than his own. A firm believer
in the rule of logic, that a single instance is not sufficient to form a
general rule, Gareth tested the validity of his discovery as often as he
could, with as many different cocks and hands as he could find.

The rule held true, though Gareth did discover that cocks with foreskins
were much nicer to hold than the ones without. Cocks with foreskins were
easy to wank, the skin sliding nicely up and down over the head;
circumcised cocks you had to hold lower down and you were more limited in
the things you could do with them.

That didn't stop Gareth from wanking with boys who were circumcised, cock
was hard enough to find without making life even more difficult!

It was a circumcised boy who had initiated the next step in Gareth's
education about cock and what to do with it. At the age of just fourteen,
Gareth had been wanking with a boy with no foreskin. It wasn't the first
time they'd wanked together, it was, actually, the third. The boy didn't
have a very big cock, he had quite a small cock, in fact, although he was
the same age as Gareth, and Gareth found wanking him quite hard -- he
couldn't use his whole hand because the cock was too small. Gareth hadn't
complained, though, or tried to find an alternative cock, because not only
was it their third wank, it was their third wank that week and it was only
Wednesday!

The boy had asked Gareth if he sucked, and Gareth was forced to say he had
never done that. He knew about it, of course -- after all, what is the
internet for?

The boy then demonstrated, to Gareth's complete satisfaction, that you
should never wank yourself, or let someone else wank you, when there's a
mouth around that's willing to go round your cock. Having found out that
mouth is better than hand as far as his cock was concerned, Gareth checked
if it was true the other way as well, and discovered that, nice as
someone's cock is when it's in your hand, it's even better in your mouth.

The next time he sucked his friend, the following day, Gareth decided he
might as well check things out properly and kept his friend's cock in his
mouth even though he'd been told spunk was on its way. He took his first
mouthful, swirled it around, let it trickle down his throat and decided
that was the best way to make cock spunk. It was quite handy as well,
because it didn't make much difference if the cock in your mouth had
foreskin or not; wanking circumcised boys might not be as good as wanking
foreskinned ones, sucking them was really no different.

Now Gareth selected his clothes with care; he was about to take another new
step in his sexual education, he was soon to be had for the first time by a
man, and not just do it with another boy.

There had been plenty of offers on the internet, of course, and Gareth had
presented his splendid nakedness to a fair number with the aid of his
webcam. He didn't care how many guys saw him naked, saw him wank, saw him
spunk, as long as it was on his webcam. Gareth was horny, not stupid. No
way was he going to meet some strange guy he'd only met electronically,
though he had wondered about one or two who'd actually used their own cams
and let Gareth see what they looked like.

Boys were different. Gareth had met several boys he'd first made contact
with in chat rooms. His msn contact list was full of boys who liked cock,
and some of them had been local enough to get to know better. The one who'd
showed him what his mouth was for was even in Gareth's own class at school!

Gareth smirked at his reflection as they both tried to work out which shirt
to wear. School was pretty shit mostly, but it did have one or two good
points!

Thinking that made the shirt decision easy, he'd wear a plain white school
shirt, and wear it hanging outside his black school trousers. Quite
appropriate, really; he grinned at his reflection and the reflection
grinned back; keep the tease going just a bit longer.

Gareth knew Jack, the man he was going to meet, knew him quite well. He
knew Jack fancied him about twenty seconds after they'd first set eyes on
each other. Jack had walked into the classroom, cast a cursory glance round
twenty three of the twenty four boys in front of him and a far from
cursory, twenty second stare at Gareth. He'd torn his eyes away from
Gareth, introduced himself and got on with the lesson, but every now and
again Gareth noticed those eyes returning, and Gareth knew his new maths
teacher was interested in him, and not as a pupil!

Gareth's response was to flirt. He was almost fifteen at the time, and
several of the boys he chatted with in chat rooms or on msn claimed to have
been with a man. Some even said they had a man as a regular `friend'. Even
allowing for the natural exaggeration that boys indulge in where sexual
matters are concerned, Gareth was sure that some of them were telling the
truth and that it was about time he tried a man as well. Exhibiting himself
to guys on cam was fine, but now Gareth had been presented with a real,
live man and he was well up for seeing how things might progress.

Of course, Gareth wasn't quite fifteen, so that made doing stuff
illegal. Jack was his teacher, so that made it illegal times about
ten. Illegal times ten is quite attractive to an almost fifteen year old
boy, so Gareth flirted.

He fluttered his long eyelashes, he raised an occasional eyebrow at
suggestive moments, he allowed the tip of his tongue to poke out now and
again. He used every bit of body language he could think of to say `I know
you're interested. What you gonna do about it?'

Nothing worked! Gareth was still the subject of lingering glances from his
maths teacher, but Gareth wanted something more substantial than lingering
glances! The men Gareth showed off to on cam didn't go in for lingering
glances; they wanted full frontals, hard and spunking, and that was
something Gareth understood. The way Jack looked at him with those
lingering glances told Gareth loud and clear, that full frontal, hard and
spunking was something that Jack would very much like to see, so why didn't
he do something about it?

Not being completely stupid, Gareth worked out that, since it was times ten
illegal for Jack to take a now just fifteen year old pupil to bed, perhaps
he ought to make that times twelve since he was a boy, not a girl, Gareth
decided that Jack was just being careful. He was still interested, Gareth
had no doubt about that. The lingering glances had become a little more
lingering, and Gareth convinced himself that those glances, more like
stares now, involved his maths teacher trying to calculate exactly what was
underneath Gareth's school uniform.

Gareth had the occasional wank, not that often, usually not more than two
or three of his daily six or seven, thinking about what Jack would do when
he eventually discovered how accurate or inaccurate his calculations had
been.

To be fair to Gareth, he hadn't been hunting for a man; he was quite happy
with boys, and with his mate, Damien, in particular. Damien, it had been,
who had introduced Gareth to sucking, and the boys worked on perfecting
their technique with each other on a very regular, like daily,
basis. Gareth was convinced that Damien had been introduced to this very
enjoyable way of creating orgasms by a man. Two or three times he'd tried
to find out where Damien had discovered the art, but the answers were
always evasive or just plain lies.

"Loads a porn on the net," was a typical answer.

Yeh, Gareth had seen all that stuff as well, and knew that cocks got sucked
long before Damien had suggested they do it, but knowing about it and
suggesting to another boy that they give it a go were very different
things.

No, it had to be a man; if it had been a boy, Damien would have named
names. That's what you did; if you found another kid who was up for giving
his cock some real fun, you let your wank mates know; it was only
fair. Gareth knew a couple of boys Damian had the occasional session with,
and Damien knew about the ones Gareth had found; that way you increased the
chances of having something to play with in the evenings or at weekends.

You wouldn't share a man, though, Gareth reasoned. You were talking well
illegal and big trouble for the guy if things got found out about. Names in
papers, everyone at school knowing and all that stuff, let alone the hassle
you'd get from parents. No, if you were doing it with a man, you had to
keep it well quiet. That meant it stood to reason that the man had to be
completely certain that the boy he fancied was going to be totally safe
before he made a move, and that, Gareth concluded, was why Gareth's maths
teacher was doing no more than mentally undress his favourite pupil.

No, Gareth had not been hunting for a man; Gareth just wanted cock
exercise. He'd tried a girl when he was fourteen; gone out with her for a
couple of months, looking forward to finding out what tit and fanny were
like, and what it was gonna be like to have a girl play with his cock.

Big letdown! She'd expected Gareth to pay for stuff, like going to the
cinema and drinks and things. He'd got hold of her tits, but she never let
him anywhere near her fanny, and when she finally agreed to play with his
cock she had no idea what to do with it! She either hardly touched it,
finger tip stuff, or she tried to pull it out from its roots. If you want
your cock dealt with properly, stick with boys, Gareth thought, they know
what they're doing.

Then this maths teacher happened along and showed obvious signs of
interest. If boys know what to do with cock, Gareth thought, it stands to
reason a man will know even more; he'll have had years more experience, so
going with a man might be quite a bit of fun.

Naturally, Gareth did his research on the net; he'd already done a couple
of years on this particular research project, but now he concentrated on
the man/boy side of things. He read, he looked at pictures and he watched
what videos he could get hold of and he learned some interesting things.

Up until now, Gareth hadn't bothered much with porn. Since his first
lesson, just before he was eleven, Gareth had been much more occupied with
the practical nature of things and he'd never been really short of someone
to assist in his practical sessions, even if that someone was frequently
conducting the session remotely, but then, that's what web cams were for,
wasn't it? He'd cam viewed a lot of cocks, and presented his to more
viewers than he could count. Now porn demonstrated to him just why a lot of
his viewers were interested in his arse just as much, if not even more,
than his cock.

That was fine by Gareth; if what they called `rimming' and fingering and
even fucking him up the arse was half as much fun as having his cock wanked
and sucked, then that was fine by Gareth. Now there was a man whom Gareth
was sure wanted to do all those things with him and to him, and so far he
hadn't done anything more than stare and explain, much more nicely than he
explained to the other boys, that he was going about solving a mathematical
problem the wrong way.

Being a logical person, Gareth reasoned that he was going about this
particular problem the wrong way. Fluttering his long eyelashes, smiling
and raising a suggestive eyebrow now and again was obviously not going to
get very far or get there very quickly. Gareth would have to find an
alternative to passive flirting.

Gareth decided that walking up to his maths teacher and saying,

"Look, I know you fancy me, and I got no objections, so are you gonna shag
me or not?" was probably not the best way to go about things. It might be
blunt, direct and get straight to the point, but something somewhere in
Gareth's mind said that this was doing things the wrong way round. He
should not be propositioning Jack; it was the man's job to chase the
boy. Gareth wanted to be chased; he'd allow himself to be caught,
naturally, but he wasn't just going to give himself up.

Gareth had a nice body, he knew that. Christ, he even fancied himself when
he looked in the mirror, so it wasn't in the least bit surprising that Jack
had the hots for him, and Gareth was certain that Jack most definitely did
have the hots! Far too many of those `undressing' type looks for there to
be any doubt about that!

The first step in Gareth's plan was to be seen by Jack more often. So far
all contact had been in the classroom, so that had to change. Gareth
started `accidentally' meeting Jack in the corridor leading to the maths
rooms at the end of breaks. Not every break, just a few random appearances.

Now since Gareth would normally be nowhere near that part of the building
unless he had a maths lesson, he reasoned that it shouldn't take long for
anyone, even a teacher, to work out that there was something unusual about
his occasional appearances.

The first time they passed without a word, though Gareth could swear Jack
gave him an especially long look. It was the first time he'd seen Gareth
other than sitting at a desk, and Gareth knew he had pretty decent legs
-- enough men had told him that on cam -- so part of the plan was to
give Jack some better `undressing looks' opportunities.

Two days later, Gareth was there again, and this time he said,

"Hello, sir," with a decent eyelash flutter.

The third time Jack spoke first;

"Hello again, Gareth. You seem to be around here a lot lately."

"Do I, sir?" Gareth responded with all the innocence that a not so innocent
just fifteen year old can muster. "It's on my way to class, sir," he lied.

"Been sneaking out for a crafty break time fag, have you?" Jack smiled.

"Would I do a thing like that, sir?" Gareth almost simpered.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," Jack smiled. "Now get a move on or you'll be
late and someone might go smelling your breath."

"Yes, sir," Gareth grinned, his heart doing a little bounce. Contact had
been established and the maths teacher had behaved in a very unteacher like
way!

Gareth should have been severely reprimanded, warned of the dangers of
smoking and probably even been given a detention; that would have been the
proper way for a teacher to behave. Jack hadn't done that, though; he'd
smiled, been nice and told Gareth not to be late for his lesson in case he
was found out.

There had been no coded messages, no hints leading to instant understanding
and later bedroom, nothing like that. In many of the stories Gareth read
online, Jack's body language would have said,

"God, boy, I think you're hot!"

Gareth would have responded by a shrug that said loud and clear,

"I'm available if you're interested," and they'd have met after school,
gone to Jack's house and made frantic, passionate love.

That was in stories though, and real life moves at a much slower
pace. Contact that was something different from normal, in-school,
teacher-pupil contact, had been made, and Gareth was happy with that.

Gareth thought about it that night as he lay in bed, naked as usual,
playing slowly with his five inch erection. Normally it was a case of strip
his clothes off, jump into bed, probably hard before he got the covers over
himself, and then wank furiously, dreaming of some luscious boy, real or
imaginary, with the most amazingly suckable cock, until he squirted his
before sleep load over himself. Sometimes, these days, it was an imaginary
girl and not a boy that helped his spunk to flow, and Gareth didn't really
differentiate; wank fantasies come in all types.

It had never been a man, though; even though Gareth had exposed himself to
a healthy number of men on his web cam, he'd never actually thought
seriously about having sex with any of them, or any other man, any man at
all. He'd never done more than idly wonder what it would be like.

Obviously it wasn't innocence that had kept men out of Gareth's wank
fantasies; men had sex with boys, Gareth knew that well enough. He could go
online now, into one of the chat rooms he frequented, and get a dozen
offers of sex from men in as many minutes. It wasn't that the idea of sex
with a man turned him off, either; those offers would always get him hard
and he'd frequently spunk up one load before even getting into bed for his
proper night time wank, often doing that for the delectation of one of his
invisible, far distant, and, no doubt, equally hard and panting, admirers.

It was simply something he'd never thought seriously about actually
doing. The concept of actually, in real life, giving his body to a man, had
never even occurred to him. It was huge fun teasing those invisible,
distant, panting, boy-wanting, watchers, but that's all it had ever been in
Gareth's mind. Just teasing; like putting chewing gum in a girl's hair when
he was younger, or nicking a mate's pen at school; something you did for a
laugh.

Now there was a possibility that it might be something a little more than
that, something more real, and Gareth needed to think about that, get his
teenage head round the idea.

He lay on his back in the dark, eyes open, with his balls cupped
comfortably in his left hand while the thumb and fingers of his right hand
gently stroked his cock and fondled his foreskin. Gareth loved his
foreskin, a long and supple foreskin. Even when he was fully hard it never
peeled back to let his glans poke through; it peeled if he wanted it to, of
course, but most of the time he liked it in its natural state. He often
just played with the skin tip, twiddling it between thumb and two fingers;
he could even bring himself off like that, twiddling rapidly, his cock,
unable to expand fully lengthways because of his fingers, swelling in girth
instead. It made an enjoyable change from normal wanking, bringing himself
to spunk point just by playing with his foreskin. It took quite a bit
longer as well, and that made things even better!

Gareth wasn't in spunk producing mode now, he was in thinking mode. He
played with his foreskin when he was thinking, it helped him
concentrate. He frequently did his homework like that, door shut, cock out,
foreskin in fingers. Some people sucked pencils, some smoked fags, Gareth
played with his foreskin.

It would have been good to have someone he could talk things over with, but
he didn't. Damien was the nearest, but Damien was giving cock less and less
and sniffing around girls more and more, and, anyway, Gareth knew he
couldn't discuss the present situation with anyone. No way could he let
anyone know that he thought that there was a teacher interested in him; if
that got out it would be well bad news for everyone. That meant he'd just
have to work things out for himself.

Jack was interested, Gareth was sure of that.

"Wouldn't keep lookin' at me like that if he weren't interested, would he?"
Gareth asked himself.

"Don't look at none of the others like that." That, Gareth knew, was a
fact. He'd checked it out, watched Jack like a hawk when he was talking to
other boys to see if he was imagining things about the way Jack looked at
him. He wasn't, Gareth was sure he wasn't.

"Ok, so you're maths teacher fancies you; so what?"

That was not an easy question to answer, so Gareth just mentally shrugged
while the fingers of his right hand gently played with his foreskin.

"Bother you that he fancies you?"

Gareth shook his head. No, it didn't bother him.

"Course it don't. Wouldn't be chasin' after him if it did, would you." A
statement, not a question, but Gareth wanted to argue with it. He wasn't
chasing after him, that wasn't fair.

"What else you call it?" his mind sneered at him; "Makin' sure he could see
you in the corridor two or three times this week?"

"Don't know," Gareth told his mind, "Just wanted to sorta meet him, not in
class, sorta thing. See what he did."

"Yeh, and?" sneered his mind.

"An' he smiled an' he was nice."

"You got the hots for him?"

No, Gareth dismissed the idea after a few moments thinking about it,
thinking that involved a bit more finger attention to his foreskin; no, he
didn't have the hots for Jack, but he did rather like the idea that Jack
fancied him, it made him feel special, somehow.

"Look," said his mind, being useful at last, giving some advice; "You gonna
go to bed with him or what?"

"Not just like that," Gareth told his mind, "Can't just have a quickie with
me teacher, can I."

"So what if he only fancies you for a quickie?"

"Then he can fuck off," Gareth said, out loud this time, without
thinking. "Not goin' with a man just for a quickie." This was said inside
his head again, not out loud.

"What if it's not a quickie he's after? What if he fancies you proper?"

Gareth's mind had, of course, asked the question Gareth so much wanted an
answer to.

And the more Gareth pondered about it, the more he played with his
foreskin, the more he realised he knew what the answer was.

"Yeh," he whispered to his mind, "Yeh, I'd go to bed with him then."

"Right," Gareth and his mind said together, "Here's what you gotta do. You
need to find out if he fancies you proper or is just letchin' you. So you
do some more casual meetin'. Car park after school, get yourself on
detention when you know he's takin' it; praps he plays badminton." That was
the one sport Gareth did play, and he played it quite well.

"Then, when you're sure he's serious, play him along a bit, let him know
he's in with a chance but you ain't givin' it easy; tease him, sorta test
him, till you know the time's right."

That, Gareth decided, was good advice. That way, Gareth was letting Jack
know he was in with a chance, but if he was going to take that chance, then
he had to make the moves. Gareth was not just going to hop into bed with
him at the first opportunity. And he could have some fun as well, a bit of
a laugh, leading his maths teacher along, bit at a time, hint by hint, but
never letting anything actually happen until Gareth was ready for it to
happen.

"No way is he just gettin' me zip undone," Gareth told his cock, "It's
gonna be all or nothin'."

Satisfied that he'd got things sorted in his head, Gareth stopped playing
with his foreskin, gripped his cock properly, and had a good, fast, and
very satisfying, night time wank.

The next move did happen in the school car park, but it wasn't planned, not
by Gareth, at least. Normally, if the weather was decent, he walked home
from school, he only lived just about a mile away so it was no big deal.
Today he just couldn't be bothered to walk, so he was on his way to catch
the service bus -- he lived far too close to school to qualify for any of
the school buses, so if he used a bus it had to be a regular one, and he
had to pay, which was one of the reasons he usually walked.

He was slouching his way across the car park, bag slung over his shoulder
when he heard,

"Hello, Gareth, what are you up to?"

His first reaction was one of standard schoolboy innocence, he wasn't `up
to' anything!

He was just about to proclaim this in injured self-defence when he realised
it was Jack that was talking to him!

"Nothin', sir," Gareth still made the standard disclaimer; "Just on me way
home."

"Don't usually go this way, do you?" Jack asked, the look on his face
somewhere between amused, puzzled and, well, undressing.

"Nah," Gareth replied, forgetting the obligatory `sir', to be used at all
times when addressing any member of staff; "Usually walk, cut across the
field. Couldn't be arsed today so I'm gettin' the bus."

Gareth's choice of language had been accidental, he had forgotten he was
talking to a teacher, but even as he said it, Gareth realised what he had
done and waited for the inevitable disapproval.

There wasn't any!

"Where d'you live, then?" Jack asked instead of telling him off.

"Top of Gaydon Road, `bout a mile."

"Ah," Jack said, "Fine, see you in the morning," and he got in his car and
drove off.

"Two things about that," Gareth told his foreskin that night; "One, he
didn't give me a bollockin' for swearin'; an' two, he knows where I live."

Neither Gareth nor his foreskin could decide which was the more important
of the two, so they settled on a wank instead; it seemed a reasonable
compromise.

Jack, on the other hand, was very sure which was the more important.

"Mmm," he thought as he drove home, "Top of Gaydon Road, far enough to make
it reasonable to offer a lift home sometime, and convenient, as I can
easily go that way myself."

Jack was a confirmed admirer of boys: he thought they looked good, smelt
sexy and tasted fantastic. Jack enjoyed tasting boys, especially the really
delicious bits that boys sometimes made it hard to get to, and made Jack
very hard if he got there! But Jack was also a teacher, and he'd made
himself a promise when he entered that profession on leaving university,
that he would not even think (well, perhaps think, but no more than think)
about tasting any of the boys in whatever school he was working in. It
wasn't a professional way to behave, and it was also far too bloody
dangerous!

For fifteen years the classes of boys who passed in front of him were no
more than window shopping. There'd naturally been quite a few he wouldn't
have minded trying out for size and fit, but he confined all his
`purchases' to his visits to other towns and to his holidays. That way he
kept his job, stayed out of prison and still managed a reasonable amount of
satisfaction. Everyone's a winner.

When he'd walked into his year ten class at the beginning of his first term
at this new school, his thinking had been no different. Years nine, ten and
eleven were his favourite. Below that, Jack did not regard them as being
fully human; sure, he'd set eyes on some who would very definitely become
human, real boys, given a year or three more to mature sufficiently, and,
now and again, there'd be something in the older ones, the `A' level
students, that was well worth looking at, but year ten were quite
definitely his favourite.

He'd walked into the room, given his practised, teacher's cursory glance
around the rows of seated boys; a glance designed to appear offhand but in
reality a glance that spotted potential trouble makers and potential
fantasy material. The glance revealed two smirking boys, marked down
instantly as potential trouble, one that Jack knew without even thinking
about it, that he'd be able to pick up, successfully, on any street in any
town but this one; and then the cursory glance reached Gareth.....and
stopped.

He`d spent as long looking at Gareth as he had looking at the entire rest
of the class. To Jack's way of thinking, the boy was simply beautiful. Not
beautiful in any effete, feminine sort of way; no, that boy was very
definitely one hundred per cent boy! Yes, he did have a mass of tightly
curled black hair, yes, he did have lovely, long eyelashes, and, oh, yes,
he had a set of lips just designed for snogging or wrapping round a cock,
but he was, most certainly, a real boy!

Jack had felt a definite stir in his underwear and a bead of sweat start to
form on his forehead. A moment longer and he might even have licked his
lips! Instead he tore his eyes away and started his lesson.

That boy had been the subject of a large number of long looks over the next
few weeks, and it wasn't long before Jack knew the boy had noticed
it. Instead of showing any sign of disapproval, instead of making some
comment to a classmate, the boy had looked back and then fluttered those
long eyelashes and sometimes lifted an eyebrow in a most suggestive and
quizzical way.

Without a doubt, that boy, Gareth, as Jack now knew him to be, was well
aware that the looks had absolutely nothing to do with mathematics and
everything to do with something entirely different! That he had become
convinced of when he met Gareth for the third time in the corridor near his
maths room. The first time may have been accidental, Gareth might just have
sneaked out for fag, as Jack had suggested, and sneaked out down this end
of the school rather than the more popular, and therefore more patrolled,
other end. The second time, two days later, Jack thought, was a bit of a
give away. No boy in his right mind would risk a second encounter with the
same teacher, in the same place, at the same time, if his purpose for being
in that place, at that time, was returning to his own end of the building
after an illicit cigarette. No boy would think that anyone, even a teacher,
would be so gullible as to believe it was accidental. The third, time, the
following day, confirmed it, and Jack felt he had to say something,
acknowledge the boy's presence, though he chickened out of anything
meaningful, and confined himself to just remarks about getting caught
smoking.

Gareth, Jack concluded, was there deliberately, and the only reason that
made any sense to Jack was that Gareth was there so he could `accidentally'
meet Jack outside of the classroom, and the only reason the boy would do
that, Jack deduced, was to indicate that he had a fair idea that Jack liked
him and he was not averse to being liked.

Jack's problem, like Gareth's, was `what to do about it'?

Nothing had developed further for the next few weeks, nothing except that
Gareth always seemed cheerful in class, and maths was certainly not his
best subject, cheerful and helpful, always being willing to lose a few
minutes of his break time helping put things away after a lesson if it was
needed. Nothing developed, nothing said that was not totally
`teacher/pupil', but Jack often had a few moments alone with the boy,
moments in which he could admire the slender, but well developed figure,
with legs that looked firm and delicious inside their all too concealing
school trousers. And Gareth had those same few moments alone with his
teacher in which he could flutter his eyelashes and smile.  Nothing until
the moment in the car park a few minutes ago that had given Jack an
opening, a chance to spend a few more minutes with the boy by offering him
the occasional lift home.

The question Jack had to answer was, would he take advantage of the opening
he'd been given? It went against all his instincts of self-preservation; it
meant thinking about playing in his own back yard, something he'd sworn
he'd never do. It didn't go against other instincts, though, the ones that
originated between his legs, and, as is the case with most men, cock over
rules brain.

It would stay just friendly and innocent, Jack convinced himself, just
innocent and friendly, no more than a teacher being a bit extra nice to a
pupil he liked and got on with. No more than that.....unless the pupil gave
very clear indications that he wanted things to be different, more friendly
and less innocent. Then it would be a different matter, but until then,
Jack was willing to bend his rule, just a bit.

Three thirty on a wet, windy, December afternoon; Jack was in his car,
ready to drive off home. School finished at three fifteen, but Jack always
sat in his car these days, having an after school cigarette before driving
off. He couldn't smoke in school, of course, and even smoking in his own
car was frowned upon, but nobody complained, and besides, the bus that
Gareth sometimes caught arrived outside the school at three thirty
five. Jack always waited until it had gone before he left; just in case.

Today was a `might be' day, it might be the day that Gareth chose dry bus
instead of wet, cold, windy walk, and if it was, Jack had no intention of
letting Gareth catch that bus!

He spotted the familiar, slender figure appear in the doorway, some fifty
yards away. Jack would recognise Gareth from about half a mile by now, the
boy's figure was imprinted on his brain.

Gareth pushed the door open, looked at the weather, heavy drizzle and a
nice east wind with it, muttered a distinct,

"Fuck!" pulled the hood of his coat over his head, hunched himself against
the rain, and started the hundred yard or so walk to the bus stop. He'd
probably have to wait in this fuckin' rain for ten minutes before the
bloody bus came, he thought, but he couldn't risk missing it.

He saw Jack's Audi;

"Nice motor, lucky bugger," he thought as he trudged across the wet tarmac,
eyes mostly fixed on the ground to keep the rain out of his eyes, and to
avoid stepping in any of the larger puddles.

He glanced up from under his hood as he got closer to the parked Audi, just
in case Jack was in it. Gareth saw he was indeed sitting in the car, so he
gave a little wave and a smile as he got closer.

Jack saw the wave and the smile and his heart gave a couple of extra loud
thumps. He answered the wave and smile by lowering his window and beckoning
the hunched up boy over towards him.

Gareth changed direction in answer to the gesture, heading towards the
Audi.

"Hi, sir," he called from under his hood; "Can't stop, mustn't miss me
bus."

Jack said something that sounded very much like,

"Sod the bus, hop in."

Gareth stopped dead. Had he heard right? Had his maths teacher just both
offered him a lift and sworn at the same time?

"Come on, it's pissing down out there!"

Gareth had heard right, and another swear word as well! Most unteacherly
behaviour, and just the sort of behaviour Gareth had almost given up hoping
for!

He dashed round to the passenger side, opened the door and was in the seat
before there was any possibility of Jack changing his mind.

"Oh, thanks, sir," Gareth gushed, "I'd have got soaked waiting for the
bloody thing." Gareth swore deliberately, just to see if it provoked any
reaction. It didn't.

"It's always at least ten minutes late."

"Why go out early for it, then?" Jack asked, without realising he had given
away that he knew the time the bus was supposed to arrive.

"Cos if I didn't, it'd be early," Gareth giggled.

"Good reason," Jack smiled; "And drop the `sir', I haven't received my
knighthood yet."

"But..........." Gareth started.

"Sir in school, Jack out of it," Jack risked.

"Cool," Gareth grinned, his heart fluttering in a most peculiar way; "But I
spose we're still sorta in school," Gareth pointed out, "We ain't out the
prison gates yet."

"Will be as soon as I finish my fag," Jack grinned broadly, amused by the
boy's reference to the school gates as `prison gates'.

He noticed the boy's barely concealed, envious glance at the cigarette he
was just finishing, and said, as nonchalantly as he could manage; and that
was difficult, because his heart was fluttering as well;

"As you said, still in school, so you have to wait until we've got through
those prison gates."

Gareth's jaw dropped.

"You mean I can have a fag?" he almost squeaked.

"Can't see why not, once we're away from here."

"Shit!" Gareth breathed, then recovered himself enough to say, "Sorry,
sir...Jack, I mean; I meant, well, thanks."

"You got any?" Jack asked as he started his engine.

"Got one left. Too ...wet to go out to smoke it at afternoon break." Gareth
had almost said "Too fuckin' wet," but stopped himself in time. That might
be going a bit too far.

"Yeh, fucking wet," Jack said for him, making Gareth grin delightedly
inside.

This was something he'd certainly have to talk over with his foreskin when
he got home!

"Fags in the lighter tray there," Jack said as they started to move; "And
no lighting up before we are outside and away from prying eyes."

Gareth nodded, found the packet and extracted a cigarette, ready for the
all clear.

"You got time to smoke it?" Jack asked as they eased into the traffic, "You
only live up the end of Gaydon Road."

That was a point! Nowhere near enough time to have a fag, and he couldn't
get out of his teacher's car, outside his house, still smoking it. Far too
many nosey neighbours!

"You could go the long way round," Gareth suggested, wickedly fluttering
his eyelashes. This was a grade A teasing opportunity and he wasn't going
to waste it on a two minute car ride.

"Long way round?" Jack asked. Still fairly new to the area he only knew the
one way to Gareth's road.

"Go right, not left at the fork," Gareth explained, feeling it safe now to
light up his fag.

"That'll take us out of town, up into the woods," Jack said, trying to work
out if there was a road across.

"Yeh," Gareth, grinned, "Give me plenty of time to have me fag."

"All sorts of things could happen to a boy alone in the dark woods," Jack
risked saying to the road ahead, knowing he was taking a huge gamble, doing
something he'd promised himself he never would do.

"Yeh," Gareth mused, "But I ain't alone, so they'd happen to you as well."

"Could still be risky," Jack pushed a little further, "For a boy alone in a
car with a strange man."

"You ain't strange," Gareth sniggered, "Bit weird, maybe, but not strange."

"You never know. Your mother must have warned you."

"Yeh," Gareth agreed, "But there ain't gonna be anythin' happen today."
Gareth was not going to give up his all for one measly cigarette! "I got
this feelin' nothin'll happen today. Too cold an' wet in the woods for
anythin' to happen today." He was willing, though, to hint that there just
might be other days.

Had Jack heard correctly?

Gareth watched the man from the corner of his eye, was he going to react?
He'd given a pretty clear hint, hadn't he?

"Probably right," Jack agreed when he'd slowed his heart down enough to
risk speaking.

Perhaps he should have said more, let the boy know he'd picked up the hint?
But that might have been pushing things too far, Gareth's words might not
have contained the meaning Jack so much wanted them to contain.

"Turn off up there," Gareth instructed, pointing to a track off to the
left.

"Up there? That's a cart track!"

"Nah, one of the forestry roads; cuts across to Gaydon."

"Ok," Jack did as instructed and they were deep in the woods, headlights on
in the deepening gloom.

"Definitely the sort of woods where things might happen," Jack tried
again. If nothing else he might find out if Gareth had meant what he seemed
to have meant.

"Yeh, spose they might," Gareth half agreed, "When it's warm an' dry I
spose things could happen."

The inside of the Audi was thick with Gareth's cigarette smoke and with
sexual innuendo, and if Jack interpreted Gareth's part of this word game
correctly, the boy was saying,

"I know what you want, you might get lucky, but not yet."

Jack very much hoped that was what Gareth was saying, Gareth knew that was
exactly what he was saying!

"Ok," Jack thought, "So I need to get to know you a little better, need to
spend some more time with you. Now how the hell do I contrive that?"

Gareth unwittingly provided the solution. His plans were similar,
almost. He wanted more time with Jack so he could continue the teasing, the
leading and refusing. This little car ride had been great fun; more was
needed.

"You play badminton?" Gareth asked, ending the innuendo word game.

Jack thought about saying something about `shuttling cocks' but decided
against it, enough innuendo for one day.

"Nah," he said instead. "Skittles is the only thing I play."

"Skittles?" Gareth chortled, "Why the fuck you play skittles?" He felt
secure enough now to use the F word without worry.

"Because you play it in pubs, and you get thirsty," was Jack's answer.

"Fair enough," Gareth grinned, "Sounds reasonable."

"And as it so happens," Jack seized the heaven sent, or at least, Gareth
sent, opportunity, "We got a match tomorrow night."

"Cool," Gareth responded, with no enthusiasm whatsoever, his own plans of
getting Jack to play badminton with him having been shot down.

"And we need a sticker up."

"What's one of them?" Gareth's question was out of politeness rather than
interest.

"Someone to put the skittles back up after we knock them down."

"Sounds well borin'," Gareth grunted.

"It is, but the sticker up gets paid a tenner, and free drink and fags."
Bait, complete with bribe, offered.

"Yeh, that might be worth gettin' bored for," Gareth acknowledged with a
little grin; both bait and bribe were worth following up.

"You up for it?" Jack asked, praying that the answer would be `yes'.

"Could be," Gareth conceded. A night in a pub, free drink, some fags and an
evening with Jack where he could continue his tease? Of course Gareth was
up for it!

"Let me know tomorrow," Jack said as they drew up outside Gareth's
house. "After school. Give you a lift home again, it's bound to be
raining."

"Yeh, cool," Gareth smiled, and couldn't resist another little tease; "An'
we can go through the woods again," he paused, "You never know," Gareth
paused again, letting tension build just a little, "You might let me have
another fag."

He smiled, got out of the car, gave another smile, a decent eyelash
flutter, a wave, and ran off up to his front door.

"No talkin' this over yet," he said silently to his trouser hidden
foreskin, "I need a fuckin' good wank!"