Date: Tue, 12 Oct 2010 13:16:35 +0200
From: Michael West <michaeljwest@gmx.com>
Subject: Learning Curve part 3

All of the usual disclaimers apply to this story. This is a work of
fiction, it portrays consensual sexual acts between a man, a teenage boy
and a preteen boy. If this is not to your taste or illegal for you to read,
please stop here. Feel free to send me an email with your comments!
michaeljwest@gmx.com

==========================

LEARNING CURVE: Chapter 3

The bell rang out signalling the end of the school day, and boys began to
surge towards the doors. Sighing deeply, I trudged off towards the science
block. Normally, I'd be heading towards rugby practice, but this afternoon
I was in detention. It was so fucking unfair, I thought, scuffing my shoes
at imaginary stones. A beautiful dry, crisp autumn afternoon like this and
I wasn't going to spend the next couple of hours enjoying it outside. No
sir, I was going to spend two fucking hours in detention with my science
teacher. I sighed again.

My science teacher, who only yesterday had given me the best gob job ever,
I remembered. My science teacher, who only yesterday had fucked a twelve
year old's face in front of me. My dick twitched a little in my
underpants. I smiled slightly and quickened my step.

Mr Dixon was already in the classroom, sat at the big wooden desk at the
front, waiting for me. Mickey was also there, sat in the front row,
grinning his trademark silly grin.

"Hi Gav," he said cheerily. Mr Dixon glared at him severely, and then
turned his ferocious gaze on me.

"Lock the door, Jones, and sit down," he said. "You might well think that
you have been placed in detention in order that you might gratify your
perverted sexual desires for two hours," he said as I sat next to
Mickey. "I want you to get that silly idea out of your heads right
now. What I found you two doing yesterday was entirely unacceptable, and
you must be punished for it. There is a time and a place, gentlemen, and
that is not on school grounds at lunchtime." He bent and took something
from the drawer of the desk, and stood up. I saw Mickey licking his lips
slightly, staring intently at the slightly overweight teacher's crotch. I
was more concerned by the cane he held in his hands. "Given the nature of
the offence, however, I have elected not to inform the headmaster and to
instead take your punishment into my own hands." He paused and swished the
cane through the air. I gulped. "Jones, as the elder and the, ahem,
instigator, you will take your punishment first. You know what to do."

Swallowing again, I stood and shrugged off my school blazer and moved to
the front of the class. I bent and braced myself against the desk,
squeezing my eyes tight shut and waiting for the first cut to land. I
wished that I'd thought to put two pairs of underpants on that
morning. Crack! I grunted slightly and jerked involuntarily. The first
cut. Fuck, that stung.

"As you were, boy," Mr Dixon warned me. Crack! Another grunt, but this time
I managed to hold myself in position. I glanced over at Mickey. His eyes
were on stalks, goggling at me with his mouth slightly open. I noticed that
one of his hands was out of sight below the desk, rubbing at his
crotch. First-formers never got caned: they just got the slipper. Crack!
The third cut took me by surprise, and the breath hissed from between my
teeth.

"Very well Jones," he said. "Strip."

"Sir?" I asked, puzzled. This was a state grammar school- you never got
caned on your bare arse. It was against the law or something. Then again,
it was probably against the law to feed your prick down your twelve year
old pupil's throat, and that hadn't stopped him.

"You heard me, boy!" he barked. I quickly tugged off my tie and slipped my
feet out of my shoes, standing on the heel of one to get it off. I
unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged out of it, dropping it on the
desk. Reluctantly, I undid my grey trousers and stepped out of them. I
dropped them on the desk as well and tuned to face Mr Dixon. My face burned
red as I stood before him just wearing my vest and y-fronts. I was fighting
the urge to rub my sore buttocks, even as I felt my prick beginning to
stiffen in my underpants. He scowled at me.

"Do you think your mother works here, Jones?"

"No sir!"

"Then fold up your uniform properly." I carefully folded my trousers and
hung my shirt from the back of the chair. Playing for time, I even took off
my socks and pushed them neatly into my shoes. The parquet floor was cold
and a bit gritty under my bare feet. Unable to delay any longer, I resumed
the position braced over the desk. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Mr
Dixon was smirking at me, his eyes on my cotton-covered buttocks. The front
of his trousers was beginning to tent out. He reached out and pulled the
back of my y-fronts down to just below my buttocks.

"Well, Jones, you can at least be thankful that all that hair on your
backside will cushion the blows," he said. He took a step back. Holding my
breath again, I tensed and waited for the next cut. The cane sang through
the air. Crack! I yelped a little and jumped. I couldn't help it- I'd never
been caned on my bare arse before, and two layers of cloth make a hell of a
difference.

"Stay still, boy! You only have eight to go, now stop being such a little
girl about it." Crack! The next cut landed and my buttocks were already on
fire. He tapped my buttocks lightly with the cane, getting a feel for his
aim, and swung again. Crack! I grunted. Crack! Crack! I'll give him his
due: Mr Dixon knew what he was doing. The cane never landed in the same
place twice. I could feel the stripes beginning to rise up, neatly lined up
one next to the other from the crease of my thighs to the top of my
crack. I looked over at Mickey again, his eyes were glued to my buttocks
and he had his hand down the front of his trousers, eagerly fisting his
little prick. My own prick was soft in my underppants, trying to shrink
back into my body. Crack! The last cut landed.

"Right Jones. Pull your pants back up," Mr Dixon's breath came in ragged,
heavy bursts. I eased the cotton back over my burning buttocks and turned
to him. He was flushed, with sweat dampening his greying moustache. At the
front of his trousers was a pronounced bulge. Absently, he dropped his hand
to his crotch and squeezed himself while surveying me.

"Well, boy? Have you learnt your lesson?" he asked.

"Yes sir," I replied, casting my eyes down and reflecting that he hadn't
told me what the lesson to be learned actually was.

"Good man. Now, go and stand by the board. Barrington!" Mickey positively
jumped out of his seat and rushed over, his little prick tenting out the
front of his trousers.

"Yes sir!" the little redhead piped eagerly. I looked at the boy darkly. He
wouldn't be so keen to get a caning if he actually knew what it felt like,
I thought.

"You saw Jones. You know what to do."

"Yes sir!" With that, he yanked his tie off and started unbuttoning his
shirt, going so fast that I thought he would tear it. He kicked off his
shoes and dropped his trousers, stepping delicately out of them. I felt my
breath catch in my throat: the little slut wasn't wearing any
underpants. He stood to attention in front of Mr Dixon, wearing nothing but
his vest, with his hairless crotch exposed and his hard little prick
pointing straight towards the ceiling. The white cotton of his undershirt
was almost undistinguishable from his smooth, milky-white skin.

"Barrington," the teacher said meaningfully, eyeing the discarded clothing
scattered around the boy. He scurried to gather them and put them neatly on
the desk, next to my own. As he bent over to retrieve a shoe that had been
kicked under the desk, I noticed that he had a spray of freckles across his
pale buttocks. I started to giggle, turning it hastily into a cough as Mr
Dixon looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

Mimicking my own actions, Mickey finished folding his uniform and braced
himself against the desk. Mr Dixon squatted down behind him, the cane
resting against his shoulde. With his free hand, he lightly stroked the
boy's pale flesh. Suddenly, he looked accross at me, questioningly.

"Tell me, Jones, have you ever buggered young Barrington here?"

"Sir?!" For some reason, he had shocked me. I had never expected to hear a
teacher using crude language like that, not even one who'd had my prick in
his mouth.

"Have you buggered him, Jones?" he repeated impatiently. "Bummed him,
fucked him up the arsehole, given him a good rogering."

"N..no, sir!" Of course I hadn't! That would be queer, I thought. And then
I thought of Mickey's dad, and how the man's fat cock had almost choked me
last night in the toilets in the park. Who was I trying to fool? Besides, I
had to admit that Mickey had a very nice arse. The boy was skinny, like his
father, but he didn't have a flat, bony backside like his dad did. Mickey's
milky-white buttocks looked soft, inviting almost.

"Hmm. We shall have to remedy that, I feel. Nevertheless, the boy's
punishment is rather more urgent. Barrington, you realise that in this
school we do not cane boys in the first form. The slipper is normally used,
but I did not think to bring one with me." Mr Dixon moved to a chair and
sat down. "Over my knee, Barrington."

Mickey scurried across and arranged himself over the teacher's lap. After
rearranging the position of the boy's legs more to his own satisfaction, Mr
Dixon slowly, ceremoniously, raised his hand.

"A lesson to be learned, young Barrington. Mark it well." And with that, he
bought his open palm down firmly on the boy's pale flesh. Mickey squaled
and kicked his legs about, even a bright red handprint began to emerge on
his buttock. With his free hand, Mr Dixon pressed down firmly on the small
of the boy's back to hold him in place and gave him another blow. He
squealed again and struggled against the teacher's restraint. The little
boy was beginning to cry now, tears running down his red cheeks.

"This won't do, this won't do at all," Mr Dixon said, shaking his
head. "Barrington, get up and stretch yourself over the desk. Jones, you
hold him there."

Reluctantly, Mickey got up went over to the desk, rubbing his sore
buttocks. His little dick was smaller than ever, a soft little worm trying
to crawl back inside his body. His little marble-sized balls were totally
invisible. Relishing the moment, I grabbed his shoulders and held him
down. I grinned evilly: wank himself off watching me get the cane, would
he? We'd soon see about that! Mr Dixon stepped up behind him. I could see
that the front of Mr Dixon's trousers were well tented out by his erect
prick, and I felt my own stiffen in my underpants, my bell-end was caught
uncomfortably in the fly, so I reached down and adjusted myself. Mr Dixon
shot me an angry look.

"Leave yourself alone, Jones. I don't want to have to punish you for
masturbating in class," he said sternly. Turning his attention back to
Mickey's backside, Mr Dixon gently stroked the boy's bum. From where I was
standing, my weight on his shoulders, I could see the goosebumps raise on
his pale skin. Swiftly and suddenly, the teacher drew back his hand and
landed one hell of a whack accross the boy's buttocks. Poor little Mickey
yelped struggled under my grasp, but before he could break free the next
slap landed on his quivering arse. And the next, then the next, then the
next. The twelve year old was sobbing by now, snot and tears running down
his red face, screwing his eyes up a little further as each slap landed. I
counted ten in total before Mr Dixon stopped. The teacher straightened,
breathing heavily.

"Very well, Barrington. That's all. You can stand up now," he said. I
released my grasp on Mickey's shoulders, and the boy stood, wiping the snot
away from his face with one hand, and rubbing his abused buttocks with the
other. He sniffed loudly.

"Sorry, sir, it won't happen again," he said. I glanced down at his crotch-
his little prick was still rock hard! Mickey saw where my eyes were and
grinned broadly at me, making my now-stiff prick twitch inside my pants. I
smiled back. Mr Dixon cleared his throat.

"I'm sure it won't, Barrington. Now, to the matter we discussed earlier,"
he said and shrugged off the tweed blazer he was wearing. He took off his
tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a white vest, damp with
perspiration, stretching accross his hairy chest. He pushed his braces off
his shoulders and shrugged the shirt off. As he turned to hang his shirt on
the back of a chair, he stared levelly at me. "Now, Jones, you claim to
have never buggered this pretty little arse of Barrington's. Is this true?"

"Y...yes sir," I said.

"Am I to assume that you have never fucked anyone at all, lad?" he asked,
slipping off his shoes.

"That's right, sir."

"Then I shall have to show you how it is done," he said, dropping his
trousers. His vest was tucked into a pair of boxer shorts, which reached
almost to his pale, bony knees. The front of his shorts bulged out
obscenely, a damp patch at the tip of his prick showing darker against the
light blue material. He reached down and fondled his prick through the
material, looking at me speculatively. My prick was at full hardness now,
pulling the waistband of my y-fronts away from my belly. The white cloth
was transparent around the tip of my cock, made dripping wet by my
pre-come.

"Besides, I think that it might be a good idea to loosen the poor child up
a little before you try sticking that monster of yours up him," he
added. He turned to the smirking boy in question. "Right, Barrington, I
want you to bend back over that desk and spread your legs wide. Ah, yes,
look at that my boy," he said, indicating Mickey's freckled arse. It was a
beautiful sight. His normally pale skin had been turned a raw red by the
vigorous spanking. I reached out and ran a finger along one buttock, making
the boy breathe in sharply. The plump flesh felt burning hot under my
fingertips.

Still fondling his prick through his shorts, Mr Dixon crouched down behind
Mickey, his face level with the boy's arse. He reached up and grabbed a
handful of my vest, tugging me down beside him.

"Now, Jones," he said, staring straight at Mickey's plump arse-cheeks. "I
want you to watch what I do very carefully." He reached up and grabbed a
buttock in each hand and slowly pulled them apart, exposing the twitching
little arsehole. The teacher bent his head towards Mickey's backside and
swiped his tongue along the boy's crack, from his hairless little balls to
the boy's arsehole.

"Oooh, sir, your moustache tickles!" Mickey said giggling. Mr Dixon stuck
out his tongue as far as he could and aimed straight for the boy's
arsehole, driving the tip inside the boy. Mickey squirmed a bit and cooed
with pleasure. My eyes fixed on Mr Dixon's face, buried between Mickey's
buttocks, I reached down and started fondling my erect prick through the
cotton of my y-fronts, flicking my thumb back and forth over the damp
fabric covering my blunt bell-end. Mickey started grinding his arse back
onto the teacher's face. The only sounds in the classroom were my breath,
Mickey's soft moaning and the squelchy sound of Mr Dixon eating the boy's
arsehole. The teacher pulled back, his moustache glistening with his own
saliva. He held out his thumb in fornt of my face.

"Suck on this, Jones," he told me. "Get it good and wet." Without
hesitation, I leaned forward and took his thumb into my mouth, covering it
with my spit. He looked at me, amused. "You're surprisingly good at that,
boy. Been sucking off the first fifteen, have we?" I flushed and let his
thumb fall from my mouth. That had hit a little too close for comfort.

Mr Dixon took his wet thumb and played it accross Mickey's exposed anus,
teasing back and forth and making the boy moan. Slowly, he pressed down,
forcing his thumb up Mickey's arse. Soon, it was all the way in, and the
teacher started pushing his thumb in and out of the writhing boy's
backside. Mr Dixon pulled his thumb out and wet his two forefingers, which
quickly replaced his thumb in the warmth of Mickey's arsehole. The man
thrust his fingers in and out slowly, twisting them, opening the twelve
year old up ready to receive his cock. Suddenly, the teacher pulled his
fingers away and stood. He reached inside his boxers and pulled his stiff
prick out of the fly, followed by the pendulous, hairy balls that had so
mesmerised me the day before. He gave it a few quick strokes and turned his
body to where I was still crouching next to Mickey's backside.

"You did a good job on my thumb, boy, so how about getting this wet as
well?" he suggested, grasping his prick by the root and waving it in front
of my face. I kept my mouth tightly closed and shook my head firmly. Mr
Dixon gave his prick another stroke, and eased the foreskin back to reveal
his glistening bell-end. The shaft of his prick was pretty thin, but he had
a fat, flared helmet, and only managed to get his foreskin over it with
some difficulty.

"No? Gone shy all of a sudden have we? It wasn't a request, boy. Open your
mouth," he said sternly. I shrugged. What the hell? Mr Dixon's prick was
nowehere near as thick or as long as Mr Barrington's, so why not? I leaned
forward and swiped my tongue along his stiff six inches, catching and
tasting the string of pre-come dangling from the slit on his exposed
helmet. Grasping his thigh for support with one hand, with the other I
cupped his fat, hairy balls and took his thin prick into my mouth. I bobbed
up and down a few times, swirling my tongue around his head and trying to
get his prick as wet as I could. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see
his fingers back at work on Mickey's anus, probing and
thrusting. Eventually, he grunted, clearly satisfied with his
preparations. He pulled his prick out of my mouth and turned back to
Mickey. Bending his knees a little, Mr Dixon lined his stiff prick up with
Mickey's twitching arsehole.

"I'm not going to lie to you, boy. This is going to hurt considerably, but
I assure you that you will eventually like it," he said. "Your sort always
do," he sniffed and turned his attention to me. "Jones, go and stick that
big dick of yours in the boy's mouth. It should muffle any screaming. If he
tries to bite down on you, just thump him."

I quickly moved around the desk. Mickey looked up at me and met my eyes,
grinning. He dropped his gaze to my crotch and he reached a hand out
towards the bulge in my y-fronts. Licking his lips, he grasped the shaft of
my throbbing prick through the cotton and squeezed. A droplet of my
pre-come oozed through the transparent material covering my bell-end. I
pushed my crotch closer to his face. His tongue came out of his little
mouth and lapped at the damp material, making my knees buckle a little. Mr
Dixon looked up at me sharply.

"Can we please get on?" he asked. I quickly tucked the waistband of my
y-fronts below my balls, skinned back my foreskin and offered Mickey my
prick. He gave my wet bell-end a quick lick and then took me into his warm
mouth. His eyes on mine, he swallowed my length down his throat until my
bollocks pushed against his chin. I gave his mouth a few gentle thrusts
before looking up at Mr Dixon and nodding.

The teacher pushed forwards slowly. I looked down and saw Mickey's eyes
bulging, and sucked a little more urgently on my prick. Leaning forward, I
could see Mr Dixon's prick slowly easing into the boy's arsehole. The blunt
tip of his bell-end was already inside the boy's tight little sphincter,
and the teacher continued to push forward until the flared head of his
prick was stuffed fully inside. He held himself there for a moment, his
helmet lost in the little lad's arse, the end of the shaft tightly held
between Mickey's soft buttocks.

He started to push the rest of his prick into the boy's arsehole. Now that
the man's broad head was already up Mickey's shitter, the rest of his prick
slid in easily, until the boys buttocks were pressed up against the
teacher's pale blue boxer shorts. A hand of each of the boy's bony hips, Mr
Dixon slowly slid his length almost all of the way out, so that just the
head of his prick was inside the boy. He caught my eye, winked at me and
brutally thrust his entire length back into Mickey's arse. His mouth
stretched wide open by my fat prick, the boy could do little more than
groan. Mr Dixon started to plunge his stiff prick in and out of Mickey's
backside, holding the boy firmly and grunting with each thrust. The older
man was starting to work up a real sweat- his vest stuck to his chest and
belly, the fabric almost transparent where it had soaked up the man's
sweat. In some places, you could even make out the mat of dark hair lying
underneath, and sweat was dripping from his armpits and onto the boy's
back. Mickey had given up trying to suck on my prick, his mouth was lolling
open, a trickle of drool at the corner. Mr Dixon was really ploughing into
the little redhead: the boy was flopping about like a rag doll, impaled on
the teacher's prick. His eyes glassy, and with every thrust he moaned a
little, his whimpers matching Mr Dixon's animal grunts.

My prick no longer needed as a gag, I walked back around the desk and
squatted by Mickey's arse to get a closer look at the action. Mickey's tiny
arsehole was stretched almost obscenely around the teacher's pounding cock
as it thrust back and forth, the shaft glistening with spit and mucus. The
crotch of Mr Dixon's shorts were sodden with his sweat and I could see it
dripping from his fat, hairy bollocks, flying off them as they slapped into
Mickey's own hairless little balls. Mickey's hand was a blur on his stiff
little dick, his moans becoming more and more urgent. Suddenly, the boy
froze and started convulsing, his prick jerking wildly of its own
accord. Mr Dixon froze as well and let out an almighty bellow as he came.

Gasping for breath, he held himself inside Mickey's arse. His big furry
bollocks were pulled tightly up against his body, almost back inside his
sweaty boxer shorts. Just the head of his prick was inside the little boy's
arsehole, and I could see the shaft pulsing slightly as it dumped a load of
thick come up the boy. With one last grunt, he pulled the head out of
Mickey's arse and a final dribble of thick white jism oozed from the slit.
Mickey groaned at the sudden emptiness. Still panting, Mr Dixon turned his
attention to me. My stiff prick was still hanging out the top of my
y-fronts, glistening with pre-come.

"Right, Jones. Show me what you've learnt," he said, nodding at Mickey's
arse. I followed his gaze. The little boy reached behind him and parted his
pale buttocks, exposing his abused arsehole. It was still gaping open, and
already a little of Mr Dixon's load was seeping out- a dribble of jism
slowly crept down the hairless skin of his perineum to drip from the boy's
tight little balls. I scooped up the sticky white fluid with a forefinger
and slowly began to push it back into Mickey's arse.

"Well, boy, what are you waiting for? Get inside that arse!"

==========================

NEXT TIME: Gavin loses his anal virginity...