Date: Sat, 18 Feb 2006 06:04:26 -0800
From: Bert <dutchb14@icqmail.com>
Subject: Hillhurst Prep School part 6

Disclaimer.

Of course the usual disclaimer is needed. This novel is a work of
fiction. School, boys and adults only exist in the mind of the
author. Sometimes sex, sexual acts and so on will be there. If it is
against the law of your country or it will shock your parents don't read
it. If you have an open mind and some knowledge about life, have fun! Of
course the story is under copyright 2006.

For them who like to email me: dutchb14@icqmail.com

Hillhurst Prep School, part 6.

When I open the door to my apartment Lars jumps up from the chair he is
sitting on. He runs in my direction and before I know what happens his legs
are around my waist and his arms around my neck. A fat and sloppy kiss
lands on my lips. I have to chuckle because of this unexpected situation
and to be honest to myself I don't know how to handle this either. His
angelic face is still very close to me and while looking into his bright
and glittering eyes I follow my instinct and kiss him back the same way he
kissed me one moment ago. "What would you like to drink?" I
whisper. "Coffee sir, much sugar and milk please", he whispers back.

"Why on earth are we whispering?" He grins very naughty. "Because you
started that", he whispers again. I grin back and force him to a soft
landing on the floor. I walk to the kitchen and Lars follows me like my
shadow. While waiting together till the water in the electric water kettle
starts boiling, the boy stands in front of me. My hands are caressing his
chest and I gently touch his hardening nipples through the fabric of his
nightshirt. A deep sigh escapes from his chest and he grabs my hands to
keep them on the same spot. "I like this sir", he says, "It feels so
nice". Kissing the top of his head my heart overflows. I never felt such a
deep love for a boy in my life. It's overwhelming and confusing me. I had
no idea about this side of me. What and who am I really? A boy lover? A
queer? I had sex with a girl more than once. Very satisfying sex even. Deep
inside it was me, already dreaming about a wife, a family and children. How
am I going to handle this? What's this boy expecting from me? Can I give
him what he needs? I take a deep breath and let the air slowly flow
out. Forcing myself I return to the reality of this moment. The coffee
water is boiling. I release myself from Lars and make to cups of
Nescafe. Sweet and with more milk than I normally add for the both of
us. "Come on stud", I say, "Let's sit down and drink our coffee before you
show me your artwork".

Together we go and sit down on the couch. Lars leans against me. His partly
bare leg touches my thigh transmitting his body warmth into my skin and
flesh. In complete silence we enjoy our coffee and empty our cups at the
same time. The atmosphere in my room is peaceful and yet full of healthy
tension. I feel like a small kid again. A schoolboy taking candy without
asking permission.

The bitter-sweet taste is in my mouth already. The sweetness of the candy
and the bitterness of feeling guilty.

Lars moves his slim body slowly. He stretches out on the couch. His head
and shoulders are in my lap; his eyes are closed. My hand moves to his
right thigh and he opens his legs slightly. With my fingertips I caress the
inside of his thighs very gently. "You know sir", he says dreamily, "You
can keep my sketchbook here and have a look in it later on if you
like. Oohh sir this really feels nice, don't stop please".

Slowly, very slowly, my fingertips move on along his inner thighs. Just
before I can touch his scrotum I move down to his knees again. Lars opens
his eyes and points at his crotch. "Look sir", he says, "You make me all
exited". Looking down I can see his nightshirt tenting out. He has a
stiffie, no doubt about that.

"My father says I am a goddamn sissy. Do you think I'm a sissy sir?" I
smile. "Well, sissy was the queen of Austria a long time ago. That means
she was a girl, let's see there is a girl on my couch or not". I move my
hand under his nightshirt and massage his nipples. "No", I say
thoughtfully," No I don't think I can feel tits. Ok the first test is
negative". Lars laughs without making any sound. "OK", I say, "Let's have
the next test now". Slowly I move my hand down again, cup his scrotum and
squeeze his boy balls. "Oh yes, this are two balls indeed", I say, "And no,
I never saw a girl with balls like that in my life". "Have I passed the
test sir?"

"Not yet, now we have to do the final part of the test".

I am over the edge now. His wooden dickie is in my hand. I pull his
foreskin firmly down. Far enough to stretch the membrane under the glans
for maximum pleasure but avoiding any painful sensation. Steadily I repeat
these motions using several seconds to move up and down. Lars moans once in
a while. Suddenly his arms are around my neck, our lips are touching and
his tongue opens my mouth. French kissing in the most passionate way. He
plants his heels deep into the cushion of the couch and lifts his hips at
the start of every stroke down. Finally the moment is there. Lars is
breathing faster and faster. The skin of his face shows an orgiastic dark
pink blush. His fingernails scratch the skin of my back through the fabric
of my shirt. His dickie even grows a little bit longer and thicker just
before finally the first sharp jet of almost clear boy fluid shoots out of
the penile opening. Two more jets are landing on his stomach, than it's
over. Lars moves his head to my shoulder and comforts himself against my
body. For several minutes he enjoys the afterglow of his intense
orgasm. His eyes are closed; his breathing slows down to normal again.

Lars opens his eyes and jumps from my lap. He grabs my hand. "Come sir", he
says, "Come". I rise from the couch and follow him to my bedroom. I can't
resist what's happening to me. It's like magic, like hypnosis. This boy
starts undressing me. I am fully aware of that but I am in his power. There
is nothing I can do against it; there is nothing I want to do against
it. My shirt is on the floor already. My shorts are gliding down to my
ankles followed by my y-front underpants. I step out of the clothes. While
sitting down on the edge of my bed Lars removes my knee socks. After his
nightshirt has landed besides my clothes on the floor, the both of us crawl
in bed. Our bodies make contact in the most intimate way. We start cuddling
and our hands are caressing each others backside. Our lips make
contact. Come together for a feather light kiss. My hands are moving to
Lars' lower backside. His hands follow the same route along my body. It's
going to be like that little boy's game – I do what you do – and I love
it. Two pairs of buttocks experience a stroking hand. Brains are sending
very strong signals that something very exciting is going on. Hormones are
rushing through arteries transported by bloodstreams. Two hearts start
pumping faster and finally two young mans' tools are as hard as rock. The
clear natural lube oozes out of the piss slits making the penis heads
slippery. I turn on my back and spread my legs wide apart. Lars moves on
top of me. Our male jewels clamp together; our tongues are playing
together, practicing the French way of kissing. Almost transferred into one
person we start moving up and down. I move up, Lars moves down. Up, down,
up down...all in a slow but steady rhythm. Small electrical shocks are
travelling along the shaft right to the glans again and again. This is
totally new to me. This is paradise. In the back of my head something
explodes. I can't hold it much longer. Here it is the most egoistic moment
in life. Completely selfish I concentrate on myself; my own lustful
satisfaction. My head moves from side to side on the bed pillow. I just lie
there, not moving anymore. Lars increases the pressure on my genitals and
there it is. That delightful pain, that burning itching. My balls jump up
against my body. My penis is even thicker and harder than ever
before. Yes...yeeesss. The muscles inside my body are tensed. Jet after jet
my semen shoots out of my penis. Vaguely I notice Lars enjoys his second
orgasm at the same time. Our boy fluids are mixing to one fruitful
pool. Enough, more than enough to double the population of Britain!

Slowly excitement fades away. There we lay together, two boys, two naughty
boys. Nevertheless there is an age difference; enough to accuse me of child
abuse. Enough to jail me for years. "Ooohhh Lars", I say, "Oh Lars what
have we done?"

"Ssshhh sir, please don't spoil it now. Don't worry, my lips are
sealed. Nobody will ever know. I love you sir, from the first moment I saw
you. Do you love me sir?"

"Yes Lars", I reply without any hesitation, "I love you".

Lars hugs me as tight as possible. He kisses me on both cheeks. Our
crotches stick together. The typical smell of fresh sperm reaches my
nose. I kiss my boy back. "Let's have a shower", I say.

The warm water calms me down further. With a washcloth and lots of liquid
soap we wash each other clean, cleaner, cleanest! I dry my boy with the
largest bath towel I can find and dry myself with the same one. Dressed in
our nightshirts we have a drink together in the living room. Lars' hand is
resting on my thigh; my arm is around his shoulders. A glimpse at my watch
tells me it's high time to send Lars to bed. One last kiss and he's off to
the dormitory.

Not sleepy at all I pour myself a scotch and light a cigarette. Lying down
on my couch I stroke my ball sac with the fingertips of my left hand while
smoking. I feel ok now and the soft strokes along the skin of my scrotum
even give me a peaceful feeling inside. I learned that from an ancient book
written by a Mexican Indian. Those Indians practice scrotum stroking on
crying baby boys to comfort them and make them stop crying. I am sure it
works!

When I rise from the couch to put out the cigarette end my eyes catch Lars'
sketchbook on the table. When I sit down I open the book. Christ, that
youngster is talented. Very talented indeed. His drawings are very similar
to the work of Johann Weinberger I've seen this morning. Its very fine art
almost as detailed as a photograph. These drawings are coloured with water
paint. Weinberger uses oil paint on linen. The total collection shows naked
boys, one after another. Half of them I don't know however on the last ten
pages all boys of my group are there. The drawing of Andrew leaning against
a big tree I like most. His flaming red hair is there, very natural
coloured. The blue colour of his eyes is real, it's like I am looking into
Andrews eyes at this moment. May be I can buy this one from Lars; otherwise
he may be willing to copy it for me. I allow myself another drop of scotch.
Coming back from the kitchen there is an envelope on my doormat.  Strange,
very strange. I am pretty sure it wasn't there the moment Lars went to the
dormitory. While I pick up the cover I notice the Hillhurst logo is printed
on it. After a zip of my scotch I open the envelope. There is a small piece
of paper in it with only three short lines: www.hillhurst.org/secret;
cp3la/an06; your69world. In my apartment I have a computer with a permanent
internet connection. I light another cigarette and switch the machine
on. After I have typed the Hillhurst web page address; my username and
entry code are asked. For several minutes I am shocked, totally shocked...