Date: Sun, 4 Jan 2015 16:48:02 +0000
From: dan freeman <puermalo@gmail.com>
Subject: spunkford preparatory school for boys part 8

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.  None of the locations, events and
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The story will contain explicit M/b and b/b sexual content.

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proves a success I shall continue to build on what I've submitted and think
about writing similar stories.  puermalo@gmail.com



Spunkford Preparatory School for Boys

A naughty story by puer malo

Part 8: Mr Davey gets Harry alone

	It was few days after the three senior boys had introduced Harry to
some of the joys of boysex.  My more observant readers may recall (in Part
one) that Mr Davey had a large, well-catalogued collection of boy porn on
his laptop and now here he was, safely locked inside his study, with his
trousers around his knees and his cock in his hand.  He was looking at a
selection of pictures – he thought they were probably Russian boys –
delighting in both their beauty and the raunchy activities they seemed to
be enjoying.  His masturbation was suddenly disturbed by a knock on the
door.

	"Damn!" he thought, then he called out, "Wait a moment, hold on."

	He frantically rearranged his clothing, forcing his big erection
into his trousers and zipping up.  He went and unlocked his door, checked
again that his bulge wasn't too obvious, and then opened it to find Harry
in his rugger kit.  Mr Davey couldn't believe how sexy the boy looked
standing there.  His hair was ruffled and his cheeks red from running
around on the sports field.  Mr Davey's eyes moved down past the boy's
striped rugger jersey and the navy blue shorts that finished just below the
groin.  Oh, those smooth legs so endearingly set off by the quintessential,
schoolboy muddy knees!

	"Sir, sorry to disturb you, sir," began Harry, "but I was playing
games and I got knocked on the head and Mr Jones said I should come in
early."

	"Oh, dear, poor fellow," said Mr Davey, "Are you feeling okay?"

	"Well, I have a bit of a headache and wondered if you might have
something I could take."

	"Did you go to matron and ask?"

	"She wasn't there, sir," continued Harry.

	"Well, you had better sit in here for a while until she's back,"
said Mr Davey, sympathetically, "after all, we don't want you fainting or
whatever."

	He invited Harry into his study and gestured for him to sit down.

	"I don't suppose it would be too bad for me to give you a
paracetemol," said Mr Davey, "I can't see matron complaining about that.
I'll just go and fetch one from the bathroom; I'm sure I have them
somewhere."

	Mr Davey went through to his other rooms, leaving Harry briefly
alone.  The little twelve-year-old looked around the study and noticed the
laptop on Mr Davey's desk.  It looked like a photo, he thought to himself,
and there surely wouldn't be any harm in having a quick look.

	He wasn't prepared for what he saw.  The picture showed two boys of
around 10 years.  One was kneeling over an armchair and the other was
standing behind him holding a pencil-thin three-inch erect penis up against
the other boy's bottom.  Harry gulped and then turned to see Mr Davey
standing there.

	"Mr Davey - - I - - I'm sorry, sir - - I - - ," he stuttered.

	"It's okay, Harry," said a rather flustered Mr Davey, "Um – you
weren't supposed to see those."

	Harry said nothing.  He was confused, not knowing whether to run
away, stand still, cry out or keep silent.  Mr Davey finally broke the
silence.

	"Sit down, Harry," he said, "and I'll explain."

	Harry sat on the couch.

	"You see," continued the teacher, "I like boys, I always have and I
can't help it.  I think boys are so perfect and so sexy."

	"But aren't you supposed to like ladies, sir?" asked Harry.

	"Most grown-up men do," explained Mr Davey, "but I prefer boys.  I
just love them and that's all there is to it.  Does that upset you, Harry?"

	"No, sir, it surprises me, I suppose, but I know that there are
some men who like to do rude stuff with boys, we were told about it at my
last school and – "

	"Don't say anymore, Harry, if it doesn't worry you then that's
fine.  I would never, ever hurt a boy so you needn't be scared."

	Harry relaxed a little and sat back on the couch.  He liked Mr
Davey and trusted him, so what his teacher had just explained put his mind
at rest.  He sat in thought for a moment and then looked up at Mr Davey.

	"Sir, a moment ago you said I shouldn't have seen those," he said,
emphasising the last word, "so does that mean you have other pictures on
your laptop like the one I just saw?"

	"Err, yes, I have," said Mr Davey, not sure where this was leading.

	"And are they all rude pictures of boys?"

	"Yes, Harry, they are all pictures of nice boys getting up to
mischief."

	"Can I see a few more then, please sir?"

	"You have to keep this a complete secret if I say yes," said Mr
Davey, "Do you understand?"

	"Yes, sir, I promise I won't tell anybody."

	"Very well then, come over here and I will show you a few more."

	Harry stood and joined Mr Davey at his desk.  A few keys typed and
there was another picture on view.  It was of the same two boys but this
time one was kneeling down sucking on his friend's little penis.  The next
few pictures continued the theme, showing the young Russians licking and
sucking one another.

	Of course, Mr Davey knew all about the other evening when Robin,
Callum and Shiv had been doing similar things with the boy who was right
beside him.  The combination of pictures and the company of young Harry was
more than a little arousing and his cock was swelling once more inside his
trousers.  As he clicked through more images he couldn't help notice that
Harry seemed to be getting more than a little interested, judging by the
way he was grabbing his own young crotch and squeezing it.

	"What do you think, Harry?"

	"There nice, sir," replied the boy, his eyes fixed on the
pornographic images.

	"Only nice?" persisted Mr Davey, "How do they make you feel?"

	"Um - - sexy, I suppose," Harry replied.

	The next picture showed one boy on his back with his legs up in the
air as the other boy had his face against the boy's bum, eagerly licking
the little exposed hole.

	Harry squeezed his own stiff cocklet.  He had experienced the
delights of cock-sucking just a few nights previously but this was new and
unfamiliar.

	"Sir," he whispered, almost in disbelief, "He's licking that boy's
bumhole!"

	"Yes, and by the look of him he loves having it licked, doesn't
he!"

	"But doesn't it taste nasty, sir?"

	"No, it tastes lovely, especially if it is a pretty little boy like
that!" Mr Davey exclaimed and then went on, "Or a pretty little boy like
you, I reckon."

	Harry looked at Mr Davey and blushed.

	"Do you think I'm a pretty boy, then?" he asked.

	"Oh, very much so, Harry," said the teacher, "In fact, I would love
to show you how lovely it is to have your bottom licked - - that is, if you
would like to see."

	"Oooh, yes," gushed Harry, "Please, sir, can we try?"

	Mr Davey stood up and, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, led him
into his bedroom.

	"Let's undress you first," he said, "lift your arms."

	Harry raised his arms and His teacher pulled the rugger jersey
upwards over the youngster's torso, revealing the undeveloped chest and the
tiny brown nips.  Then he crouched, took the waistband of the boy's shorts
and slowly pulled them down.  Harry stepped out of them, one arm resting on
Mr Davey for balance, then sat on the edge of the bed and quickly removed
hid socks.

	So there he was, completely naked, with two-and-a-half rigid inches
pointing up to the ceiling.

	"Lie down on the bed," Mr Davey instructed, and Harry did so
appreciatively.

	Mr Davey moved towards young Harry and held him by the ankles.
Then he lifted the boy's legs and made him bend his knees.  As the man's
face went down on the boy, Harry rested his feet on Mr Davey's shoulders.

	Mr Davey took a moment to savour the view of the hairless pink
rosebud he found there.  He could smell a faint odour of sweat from the
boy's games lesson exertions.  With his eyes, he traced the little brown
line that divided the perineum and led to the small, tight scrotum.  He
admired the boy's little cock once more and then his mouth made contact.
He flicked a pointed tongue at the tiny pink hole, teasing the boy.  Harry
stiffened slightly and Mr Davey sensed the bumhole contract.  He let his
tongue run circles around the edge of the hole, wetting it with his saliva
and tasting the smallest trace of shit.  He nuzzled his face deeper,
probing the boy's bum, then took long dog-like licks that followed the
whole length of the boy's crack.

	Mr Davey stopped briefly, to catch a breath of air as much as
anything.  The sight of the boy's wet crack and the glistening, spit-soaked
hole were his idea of paradise.  He unzipped his trousers and released his
hard man-cock.  After a few wanking strokes he returned to his licking, now
forcing his tongue as deep as it could reach within the boy.  He could
sense that Harry was wanking his own boycock as he used all the methods and
techniques he knew.  After a few minutes both he and the boy were on the
edge.

Harry was making tiny groaning sounds now and Mr Davey couldn't hold back
any longer.  He stood, again taking the boy by the ankles, but this time
with one hand as he was now wanking his own seven inches furiously.  He
raised the boy's legs up high, he almost dangled the boy – he certainly
had him in his total control.  The exposed wet boyhole, the vulnerability
of the youngster, the sight of Harry masturbating his tiny cock between
finger and thumb – it was overwhelming and Mr Davey tipped over into
orgasm.

A rope of thick, white man spunk shot from his cock, coating the
youngster's little balls and tricking down into the crack below.  Another
squirt hit the boy's belly and hand.  Mr Davey knelt down and smeared the
head of his cock, still pulsing from the final shudders of his orgasm,
against the boy's delightful hole

At that moment, Harry reached his peak.  A pearly drop of boy spunk
appeared at the tip of the little penis.  Another throb pushed it free and
it trickled down his cock, joining the thicker semen of his teacher.

. . . . .

	After they had cleaned up Harry put his rugger kit back on.

	"How's the headache?" asked Mr Davey, with a grin.

	"Oh, that's completely gone, sir," laughed Harry, "You've found a
magical cure, I think!"

	"Well, best go to matron, just in case."

	"Will do, sir," said Harry as he reached the door that took him
back to the dormitories.  Then he stopped, turned and said, "Sir, you know
those pictures?"

	"Yes, Harry, what about them?"

	"Do you think you might like to have some pictures of me, maybe?"

	"That would be lovely, Harry, really lovely!"

	"We would have to find some other boys to pose with me though,
wouldn't we?

	"Oh, I'm sure I know just the boys who would join in," said Mr
Davey

	"Me too!" said Harry, and with a mischievous wink he scuttled off
and was gone.

.	.	.	.	.