Date: Wed, 13 Nov 2013 14:40:17 +0000 (GMT)
From: Hasan Khan <hasancutkhan1987@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Hurstpoint Preparatory  part 6

(some of my text went missing from Part 5. The continuation is here as Part
6)

The first strokes in and out of my chute were slow and deliberate as if he
were training my ass for greater things. A few inches back and forth before
pulling himself to the edge of his helmet. The strokes increased in speed
but at this stage he remained inside me, teasing my chute with the
thickness of his erection. I wanted to cry with pleasure as I felt the
column of flesh sculpt my tunnel upwards and downwards. Tim pulled me this
way and that as he rubbed his rock hard helmet against my delicate prostate
nut I could feel the juice rise up through my tubes and a drip form at the
lips of my tender piss slit.

I heard the "plop" of muscle and flesh the moment Tim pulled out of me. I
also felt the sudden searing pain when without warning he pushed himself
back into me, stretching my hole to its widest. Once inside, and with his
groin pressed hard against my buttocks, he whispered to me "Scream if you
want, its the real thing now."

With a ferocity that I could never have imagined Tim began to plough my
buttocks and chute like a man possessed. If he had tried to be careful and
gentle in the previous minutes, he was now teaching me how to be a man in
every sense of the word. His eight inches of steel hard flesh rammed in and
out of me: half way, a third of the way and then out of my body leaving it
defenceless against further invasion. I cried out for more whilst he filled
me with his rampant shaft.

When my body felt as if it could take no more Tim began to slow his
thrusts. Deliberately and with careful measure he ploughed me in and out to
the fullness of his length, letting my bowels caress his hot flesh. Taking
my five inches in his strong hand he began to wank my foreskin up and down
in time with his own thrusts. Attentive to our mutual need for release he
maintained a perfect rhythm: his circumcised cock glided in and out of my
chute, whilst my foreskin slid up and down my shaft. I wanted these moments
to last forever but all too soon I felt the throbbing of his shaft, deep
inside me. At the very moment that his hand was sprayed with my pent up
juices I felt the force of his ejaculation deep within me. Tim was
reluctant to withdraw from me and kept up his thrusting till the last drops
had flowed out of him and into the deep recesses of my body. All the time
he continued to pull me foreskin up and down, his hand drenched in my
cream. Only when our shafts began to soften did he begin to pull out of me
and let my shrinking penis drop from his hand.

We cleaned each other off under the shower, washing each other's cocks and
balls. Tim with great gentleness soaped and rinsed my aching backside. As
we dried off Tim Weaver shared with me his thoughts about the boys of
Hurstpoint Preparatory and soon had me getting stiff again as he recounted
his exploits with the boys who were now in my dormitory. It had not only
been Jason Smithers who had been skinned back by Tim Weaver but he had been
responsible for teaching Rupert Masterson about the pliability of the
foreskin and the necessity of skinning back to urinate. Of course his
favourites were the roundheads of the form and graphic detail he proudly
told me how he had demonstrated the use of perfumed handcream to Nigel
Feathers who had returned to school the previous year having been
circumcised during the long vacation at the insistence of his father,
following an incident when young Nigel had been discovered innocently
playing with himself and then getting his foreskin stuck behind his little
helmet.

Despite my incompetence on the badminton court we agreed that we should
have a knock about from time to time. The wink in Tim Weaver's eye
suggesting that shower time adventures would be repeated.

Bedtime stories are not a regular feature of life at Hurstpoint but that
night I lingered in the almost empty dormitory chatting to the boys.
Trsistan James was the one who pleaded with me. "Sir, tell us a story, one
of your history stories, Sir. It's too early to go to sleep. Tell us the
one about Spartacus and the slaves, and the gladiators in Rome." So it was
that I finished up sitting on Tristan's bed with the boy snuggled up to me
on one side, while Peter Obi positioned himself to my left. Two other boys
got behind us and Gerard Redmond made himself comfortable on the floor
leaning against my legs.

Perhaps it was the frequent mention of muscular oiled bodies glistening in
the Mediterranean sun, tight and skimpy loincloths covering manhoods and
naked slaves which caused the frisson to mount but soon enough Tristan
James had his hand gently moving across his pyjamas in the area of his
groin. Peter Obi had his arm tightening around my waist and I felt sure
that a little hard boy cocklet was pressing against my back. Soon enough
Tristan had to make himself more comfortable and it was at that moment that
his pyjama bottom came apart and his hard little uncircumcised penis sprang
into view. The pale creamy foreskin had slipped back a little to reveal the
tip of a purple moist glans. Unselfconsciously he made no effort effort to
cover himself up and I whispered into his ear "Leave it out." Next to burst
his confines was Peter Obi who while pretending to be attentive to my tales
of naked gladiators in the Roman Forum was staring across my groin towards

 Tristan's throbbing erection. In no time at all his ebony cock was jutting
out of his pyjamas and the smile on his face made it clear that he was the
proud owner of Hurstpoint's largest teenage cock. Gerard Redmond had by
this time nuzzled his head close to my groin and with his own beautifully
circumcised cocklet straining to escape the confines of his night clothes
was provoking a massive hard on in me.

Having dispatched gladiators to wolves and lions, to the sword and the
spear I was ready to call it a night and leave the boys to their
devices. "Let's play gladiators before we go to bed, Sir. You can be the
emperor and decide who gets killed. Come on Sir, it will be fun." Before I
could reply the boys began to strip off and take up position with imaginary
weapons in their hands. Five naked boys began to wrestle and stab at each
other, penises wobbling and shaking in the cool air of the dormitory.
Gladiatorial combat soon degenerated into gladiatorial wrestling and five
sets of hands reached for scrotums and penises. Boyish shrieks pierced the
air as testicles were squeezed and then groans and sighs took over as cocks
were stroked and pulled. Little Tristan was the first to spill his load
onto the tiled floor of the dormitory having been pleasured to the limit by
three sets of hands. Paul Sarto lay on his back for Damian Rothers to pull
his tight foreskin up and down, moaning each time the little red prepuce
edged its way across the crown. But soon enough he squirted his milky load
and obligingly brought his friend to a dry climax thorugh skilful
manipulation of the long, loose foreskin which the boy possessed.

Meanwhile, the two circumcised warriors of Cedar dormitory, Peter Obi and
Gerard Redmond were locked in combat, groin to groin, black against white,
naked glans rubbing against naked flesh. The rhythm of their gyration was
bound to bring them to climax before long. Peter's already four and half
inch black erection slipped out from moment to moment affording me a
glimpse of his perfectly sculpted penis, cut half way down the shaft in
infancy. Gerard's equally severe circumcision had left his cock skin
tightly stretched, the large mushroom glans flaring out beyond the two
toned shaft. Perhaps the old chesnut was true, circumcised boys and men
last longer. Peter and Gerard pushed and pulled at each other, manhandled
each other's cocks and squeezed their bodies together as if they were never
to be parted.

With my own cock having skinned itself back in full confined erection and
leaking watery fluids into my briefs I watched intently as black flesh
rubbed against white, the two bodies jerking in harmony. At length it was
Gerard who let out a long low moan, his juices running into the hairless
black groin of his partner. Peter Obi continued to rub himself against the
pale white flesh of his friend until he too began to spurt thick boy cream
between the legs of his now wilting friend. It was at that very moment, as
the circumcised black flesh dripped its load that my moment of release
came. Sitting on Trsistan's bed I felt the oozing of man juice spreading
across my hot groin.  A perfect end to a perfect day.

This story comes to you from one who never went to boarding school but who
would love to hear about your experiences of growing up in an all boys
institution. Jeremy.