Date: Wed, 23 Oct 2002 19:37:11 EDT
From: Alex Carbine
Subject: Memoirs of a Housemaster 4

This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this
type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material
is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters,locations and
incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental, but if you think you are in here,
then "hi!".


CHAPTER FOUR

    One thing I have noticed with the boys at school is their almost total
fascination with jock straps. Even the youngest boys soon seem to feel that
they cannot play any games without wearing a jock. No matter how small
their equipment it all has to be in that pouch. And then as they grow
older, and bigger, it seems that personal pride takes over and they keep
that small first-time pouch, as their equipment grows bigger, so that it
looks, and feels even bigger as it all strives to break out of the
smaller-than-necessary confine. Strange but true. Eventually they have to
buy another jock - usually at the beginning of the summer term - in order
to facilitate a cricket box, the plastic protector insert that prevents
groin injury. I remember one time a lad came to me with a query but just
could not seem to ask whatever it was he wanted to know because he was
embarrassed.

I was the instructor in charge of the colts cricket team and it was the
beginning of the summer term. With the evenings still sunlit, I was able to
get young hopefuls into the practice nets for try-outs - to see if they had
any talent for cricket. It is all very well to want to, but a player must
have the talent as well. A junior, Reeves, staggered into the nets for a
trial, and I could not believe the amount of kit he was wearing, with leg
pads, elbow pads, chest protector, gloves and head helmet he looked like a
living version of Tweedle Dee about to go into battle with Tweedle Dum -
see the illustration in Alice Through the Looking Glass. I got him to take
most of the padding off, save leg pads and gloves, but I noticed he had
this annoying habit of scratching his crutch before receiving a ball
delivery. In the end I walked down to his wicket and asked him if he had a
problem.

That was when this young lad could not come out with his problem. I had no
idea what it was, and it was about time to pack up so I told the others in
the other nets to put everything away and steered Reeves, with his handfuls
of kit, back to School House and into my study. There I had him sit down
and I asked him as kindly as I could muster what his problem was, and if I
could help. Getting information out of him was like pulling teeth without
anesthetic. Finally I gathered it was to do with his underwear.

Slowly I gained his confidence and eventually he blurted out that he had
gone with his Mum to a sports outfitter who had kitted him out and supplied
him with everything including a box. What the outfitter did not supply was
a jock with a slip-in pouch for the box. The poor lad had tried to tuck it
down his boxer shorts, and it kept slipping out and traveling down his long
white cricket trousers. No wonder he was scratching at his crutch!!  So, it
was Housemaster to the rescue. I asked him what his waist measurement was
and, leaving him in my study, I went to the Laundry room. There are always
collections of various garments on the shelves there, which have no name
markings. I was able to find a clean jock with the right waist size, and I
returned with it. Closing my study door I gave the jock to Reeves and told
him to put it on to see that it was the right size.

Very self- consciously he stood up and dropped his trousers. Sure enough he
was wearing his boxer shorts. I told him he would have to take his trousers
off in order to get his jock on. He sat down again and untied his cricket
shoes, removed his trousers and then stood up again, and there he remained
looking very, very self-conscious, with his hands crossed in front of
himself. I sat down in my chair beside my desk and looked up at his face.

I must break here to say that Reeves was one of the dayboys at the School
and that I had never seen him in the showers or baths during the day or
before bed. In fact I had never seen him naked. He had only stayed late
that night for the cricket try-out and would be cycling home when I let him
go.

"Come on Reeves," I said with a smile, "We've got to see if it fits
OK. Don't want any more problems do we?" He turned so his back was to me
and slowly pulled his boxers down. However as he stepped out of them he
lost his balance and slipped to one side, steadying himself on the edge of
my desk. As he straightened up I could see that physically he was well
ahead of his age, with a fair sized cock and balls, and a few hairs as
well. He had left the jock on my desk and I picked it up and held it out so
he could step into it. He turned round to face me and I encouraged him to
me by shaking the waist of the jock, spread by the fingers of both my
hands. He stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself
as he put first his left foot into the webbing and then his right. I pulled
the waistband up until his cock, which must have been about three inches
long and drooping toward the floor, was hanging over the front of
it. "There we go, pull it up," I told him. Tentatively he got hold of the
waistband and pulled up, helping himself into the pouch. "Have you never
had one of these before?" I asked, as he seemed to be so hesitant.

"No Sir," he replied, "I just wear my boxers." "Well I had better make sure
it fits then, hadn't I? Stand up straight and let me see you." He stood up
and I ran my finger round inside the waistband. Then I ran a finger from
each hand down inside the edge of the pouch, ending up touching his
balls. I asked him to turn around and ran my fingers down under the strap
at the back, round each cheek on his bottom. I asked him to stand with his
feet apart and felt underneath where the straps meet the pouch, running one
of my fingers back up over and past his little puckered anus. Then I asked
him to turn round again, and with my right hand cupped I kind of weighed
his balls in the pouch. "Plenty of space everywhere," I said to him and
looked up at his eyes. I noticed that his cheeks were flushed, and he
licked his lips nervously. "Does it feel alright? Nothing pinching or
anything?" With the back of my fingers I brushed up and down the lump made
by his penis. I could feel it was slightly hard. He shook his head
little. "No, Sir.

It feels great, Sir." "OK," I said, "let's try the box in it. There's a
special opening at the top of the pouch by the waistband. Here it is." And
as I said that I put two of my fingers in and wobbled them a little. "See,
it goes in here." Again I wobbled my fingers and felt them either side of
the base of his stiffening cock. His cock head - he must be circumcised -
was showing in outline through the material. Leaving my fingers in the
front pouch I reached over to my desk and picked up the pink plastic box. I
pulled the front of the pouch open and tried to slip the box in, but met
resistance from his hardening dick. "Strange," I said, "It ought to go in."
I got hold of the waistband and pulled it down to his knees. I could see
that his cock was thicker than before and half hard. I pretended to ignore
his growing problem and slipped the box into the pouch. "There we are. I
knew it would go in," I said and with that pulled the waistband up and over
his cock forcing it to point upwards.

"That's it," I said when the whole thing was in position, "now you can take
anything that comes your way, can't you?" and I took hold of the box
through the fabric and shook it from side to side, noting that his cock was
almost hard. "And you can see it does not rub at all," putting the edge of
my hand between his legs and rubbing the space between the back of his
balls and his ring. Then Reeves took me completely by surprise and said,
"Are you sure, Sir?" and put his right foot on my chair. I looked up at him
and he shrugged, smiled and said quite slowly, "Are you quite sure, Sir?"

Now I was at a loss. "Why, does it rub somewhere," I asked and rubbed again
between his legs. "No, Sir, what you did before that. It rubs there." I
took hold of the box and moved it from side to side again. "There Sir, It's
rubbing." I looked up at him to see if he was serious. He was not. He was
enjoying what I was doing. I smiled at him and said, "There seems to be
something in the way. I had better see what it is." He put his foot back on
the ground and placed a hand on each of my shoulders. I ran my fingers into
the waistband and pulled the jock down, having to bend forward as I did
so. I let the jock drop from his knees to the floor and he stepped out of
it. His cock was hard and pointing at me and he was neatly circumcised. He
took his right hand off my shoulder and wrapped it round his length, and
started a slow wank. I cupped his balls with my left hand and scrunched
them gently a bit. He held the base of his cock with his right hand and I
got hold of it with my right hand and wanked it a bit. A bead of wetness
formed in his piss slit. I leaned forward and licked it off with the tip of
my tongue. He now stood with the thumbs of both hands hooked over the top
of the base of his cock, making it point directly at me, his fingers gently
tickling his balls. I looked up and his eyes were closed, a soft smile
playing across his face. I took the head of his cock into my mouth and
immediately tasted his slight saltiness. I slid my lips down to his hands
and felt his cockhead flare bigger a couple of times at the back of my
throat. I moved back off his prong, but he followed me with his hips, not
wanting his cock to come out of my mouth. I made myself more comfortable
and he started thrusting into my mouth. I put my hands on his cheeks and
pull him in deep each time. His thrusting becomes more urgent. I hear him
say "Oh Shit," under his breath.

He begins to grunt slightly with his thrusts, which are becoming more like
quick jabs. I squeeze his balls and stroke behind their sac. His breathing
is very quick as are his jabs at my mouth. He goes up on tiptoes and I
sense he is near cumming. I make my right hand middle finger wet and stroke
it over his ring. He moves his knees apart a bit and I am able to gently
work my finger in past his circular muscle, a little at a time as he
thrusts. He hisses "Oh Yes," and he is very close. He is bucking into my
mouth now, and I have to hold his straining cock with my left hand to stop
him doing me damage. I feel my right middle finger touch a pea-sized lump
in his bowel. He reacts with a sharp cry of "Aaahg," and then he is cumming
in my mouth. I continue to massage his prostate gland and milk him of all
his boy juice and more. He cannot stop cumming, and continues to buck in my
mouth even though he has gone dry. I push him away with my left hand. I
watch as his cock continues to pulse with each following dry ejaculation.
Then it is over for him. He puts a hand out for the chair behind him and
sinks into it. I swallow his cum, savoring its taste. He looks up at me,
his whole frame heaving as he draws deep breath after breath. I smile at
him and he smiles and nods at me. "First time?" I ask him. "Yeah," he
answers.

"Last time?" I ask. "Fuck no!" he answers. "Best phone your folks and tell
them we ran late. I'll run you and your bike home in the school bus," I
said. "Let me get my breath back first. Shit that was great. Do I make the
cricket team?" he asks. "I can see you have a talent that we can work on,"
I answer, "but we keep it to ourselves, huh?"  "Yeah, OK. Do I get to keep
the jockstrap as well?" "Why not? You have earned it!!"

More to follow

Alex Carbine