Date: Mon, 4 Oct 2010 01:58:43 +0100
From: stuart slater <slaters@rock.com>
Subject: The End of 'No Touch' For Schools - Part One

The End of "No Touch" For Schools
Part One
By Stuart Slater (slaters@rock.com)

The last thing I wanted to do was get any closer to the kids I taught so the
end of the government's "no touch" policy meant nothing to me at first. But
then Dan who takes PE let slip he'd been fucking -- and enjoying -- the
benefits of the new system and I wondered what I was missing out on. As a
primary teacher I can honestly say I'd never given a single member of my
class a second glance sexually. God, no. But one tedious Wednesday
afternoon while they were all quiet I looked about wondering if I could.

The Conservatives' determination to put teachers back in charge had really
taken hold; I knew I was free now to treat them however the fuck I liked;
although thanks to sexual harassment laws it couldn't be with girls. I sat at
my desk and looked about at the 10 to 11 year olds in my class, all with their
heads down writing. Settling to my task I tried to avoid considering what I
knew of them as a teacher and to think of them only sexually. I imagined
what my moves might be in selecting a virgin boy and having full licence to
use him in any way I pleased. Within a few seconds as I looked from desk to
desk I felt my dick gain weight. Definitely, I could tolerate the thought of a
little tongue or infant hole for my own use. But which one?

It was just after 3pm and they still had half an hour till home time. But I
wasn't going to wait. I was ready to exploit the end of the "no touch" rule
and now pupils knew their rights were gone who was going to argue if I said
the day was over?

I made them stop working, told them to pack away and I dismissed the girls.
Once the noise of their departure had settled down, a random mix of 17
primary school boys were left before me, all at different stages of
wondering what was up.

"Everyone stand up."

Chairs scraped on the hard floor as each of them got to their feet. They
were a jumble of heights and although they were in uniform, a lot were by
no means smartly dressed. The tubby ones, the ugly ones and the ones who
weren't washed were going to be the first to go. I looked about and called
out ten surnames with impatience in my voice. Normally this would mean
the named children were the ones in trouble, but when I told those ten to
leave the puzzled looks on the children left increased. A few months before
some lippy little sod would have felt entitled to ask a question about what
was going on, but thanks to the new guidelines, kids no longer had the
liberty to seek an explanation. Adults were in charge again. My rigid cock
was all the justification I required.

Again I waited for the rejects to piss off and then I was left with 7 good
looking young boys. They were neatly turned out in the same white shirts,
ties and grey trousers, they were all healthy, all hitting their growth
milestones and I knew from parents' evenings they all came from good
homes. This was the pick of English boyhood. Which one of them did I want
to get with most? With my erection still pounding away it was too awkward
to stand up so I sat at my desk slowly looking from face to face. A couple
were class favourites but I didn't really want the kind of boy who'd treat my
time with him as extra lessons. Especially as I began to detect the idea
dawning  that rather than a telling off they were being chosen for some
special kind of responsibility. The two or three brightest were looking at me
with a kind of pleading to be picked out. Well, fuck that, this exercise
wasn't for the benefit of the swots, so those were the next three I sent
home. One of them even appeared to be on the brink of tears at being sent
away.

Down to four, and I was proud of what I had left. They were all healthy,
cheerful, confident boys; cheerful young year 6 primary pupils who'd attract
a second glance from whatever man had the opportunity to check them out.
Any one of them would do.

I had them come up to the front of the class to stand at my desk. I just
couldn't decide.

Now they were no longer concealed at by school furniture at mid-height I
had a chance to see them in their trousers. And they looked good. Though
prepubescent the shape of their genitals was detectable where the
charcoal or light grey fabric of their crotches had been bunched up around
their dicks during their day in school. Was that how I'd decide? Who looked
more sexually developed? Which boy's dick might be biggest? Of course
not. The last thing I cared about was which of them was growing up most.
Yes I was curious how their balls looked but I wasn't searching for the boy
nearest to having pubes. The opposite, if anything.

They were in a little group in front of me, I'd been looking them up and
down for a while and time was moving on. This one was a very angelic
blond, that one was smiling at me sexily. I shrugged: it made no difference
really. The end of "no touch" meant physically I could immediately do
anything I liked to any one of them... or all four of them. But I'd had in mind
for it to be just myself and one other so to break the deadlock I had them
turn around for me to see their butts. I was pleased to find -- assessing their
backsides for the first time since having them in my class -- that all of them
had a decent curve to the cheeks of their asses.

"Bend forward."

They each leaned away from me and advanced their tasty little bottoms in
my direction. They were fit boys, helped by gym class to grow into shapes
pleasing to a man. I saw very easily how delivering corporal punishment to
these tight little behinds could become a substitute for using them for sex.

One boy, Turner -- obsessed by football -- was showing his ass the most
enthusiastically, practically waggling it at me as if he was trying to turn me
on. I could be sure if I picked him he'd stretch himself because he'd proved
over and over he loved physical activity of any kind. But then I recalled that
at parents' night his dad had talked so glowingly about Turner's playing
skills I couldn't now be quite sure the father hadn't had that eager little
bum already. In fact as soon as I'd used the basis that another adult might
have enjoyed Turner before me it was easy to identify the one I wanted
most of all.

While the other boys were good in their way I could see now that once I'd
had them I'd soon get bored. It was a boy called Andy Smith I was ready to
properly explore. He was a dark blond. Not a perfect choirboy type, but
such a clean and smooth little boy he'd stand out in any class. He didn't look
like an angle but he was a noticeably good looking lad and right now his
backside was split into two chubby little spheres that I had a very strong
urge to split.

Yes, physically he was doing it for me, but he had other attractions too. He
was the only boy in my class to style his hair with what looked like gel, so he
clearly knew looking sharp mattered. His tie was always on, his work always
neat, his attempt at anything always committed. He cared about the
impression he made, but he hadn't lost his innocence. He didn't show off or
make a lot of noise. I guessed he made an effort because his dad or elder
brother did, not because he thought his female classmates liked it.

In some form, he was showing a readiness to be shaped and guided by what
an adult did, even if he didn't yet understand why. A man had not yet shown
him the secret places that a sexy look led to. But I would. I'd show him the
world that the males in his family hadn't yet shared.

And if he wasn't ready for it, thanks to the end of "no touch" I no longer had
any responsibility for that. The law had said his rights had gone so if he
didn't like it he no longer had a place to run. I told the boys they could stop
their show and told everyone but Smith to go.