Date: Sun, 29 Mar 2015 19:15:46 -1000
From: Jeff Albertson <albertson194@gmail.com>
Subject: the new batch

The new batch

a story by plantagenet

Disclaimer: This story is fictional, populated with fictional characters
who inhabit a fictional universe (or a small part of it, anyway). It
contains unrealistic plot devices and ludicrous dialogue, and a lot of
needlessly big words. And some intergenerational sex (as well as the other
kind). It should only be enjoyed by consenting adults in legally permitted
jurisdictions.

Author's note: This story is an homage to the author Van T Z Boi, in
admiration of his many fine stories, in particular the splendid (but sadly
incomplete) series 'Fagging for Guy', in the hope that it may inspire him,
if he is still writing, to provide the Archive with further chapters. I
wrote this piece in the style of a narration/monologue, just for fun. If
you enjoy reading the stories in the Nifty Archive (and I'm sure you do, as
do I) why not consider making a small donation to ensure its continued
operation.

The New Batch

Near the end of each academic year, the headmaster confers on me (mainly as
I am the only volunteer for the job) the most delightful responsibility:
training next year's fags. Ours is a traditional, if minor, public school,
where many of the old practices still hold sway. As such, all of our
students are boys, all boarders, many being the sons or nephews or
grandsons of past students, with a smattering of minor nobility. Members of
staff are frequently alumni of the school. The boys wear grey serge suits,
sleep in dormitories divided by age, and the Gothic-style school buildings
sit in the midst of extensive sporting fields.

The younger grades do not take annual exams - that ordeal is reserved to
the senior forms. As a result, the last two weeks of term are a relatively
carefree time for grades 5 through 10. Some of the students take part in
project work, or school beautification, perhaps traineeships for the grade
10s, and so on. However, it is with the eighth-graders that my important
work is undertaken. The first step is to sort out the wheat from the chaff.

"Thank you gentlemen, that will be enough chatter, thank you. Jenkinson,
that includes you. Carswell, put that away. Now, as you may already be
aware, I've called this meeting of the whole of Grade 8 to discuss a very
important matter with you. I want you to cast your minds forward to next
year, when you will be in Grade 9. Some of you will be heavily invested in
taking part in organized sport - playing in the school's intercollegiate
competitions, of which there are many. A few of you, our scholarship
students, will have your noses deep in your textbooks, so that you may
bring glory upon our school through your academic achievements. The school
is grateful for your service. But not all of us are athletically or
academically gifted. Today I want the rest of you to consider devoting your
9th Grade to becoming part of a select group: the school fags."

"Some of your fathers and older brothers before you may have been fags. You
may have heard stories from them about how enjoyable it is. But being a fag
is not for all - many aspire to it but there are limited vacancies, just as
not everyone can be a quarterback, or a star pitcher, or a neurosurgeon.
Importantly, I should add at this point that fags are excused from all
school sporting obligations for the whole of grade 9 - including gym. So if
you had your heart set on taking part in games next year, being a fag is
not for you. But if you are, shall we say, less athletically able, then you
should consider becoming a fag. I will give you a few moments- Hounslow, is
that chewing gum? Get rid of it, boy! Now, where was I? Ah, yes, I will
give you a few moments to think it over, although I'm sure you've already
given the matter a lot of thought, then we shall move from here to the
Fags' Common Room, which as you may know is next to the Senior Dormitory.
Those boys who know they will not be suitable fag material should excuse
themselves along the way and return to class, so that by the time we arrive
at the Common Room, there should only be boys who want to take on this
enjoyable yet demanding duty. Gentlemen, please rise and move out."

The boys jostle each other as they (naturally) all try to get through the
doorway at the same time. "I'm watching you, Smythe-Wilkins, don't think
I'm not," I chastise one unruly boy. "Abbotsleigh, leave Forsyte's hair
alone, if you please. Yes, I am quite aware of its length, we all are.
Dinsmore, this is positively the last time I will ask you to stop that."
Honestly! Boys!

By the time we reach the Fags' Common Room, our numbers have diminished, as
I expected, but there are still quite a lot of boys, too many for my
purposes. This is the part of the job I enjoy the least - weeding out those
boys who think they are fags, but whose hearts are simply not in it.

I quieten the unruly horde before continuing my lecture. "I see we have
twenty-three boys here. I applaud your dedication, gentlemen, but as I
explained earlier, I can only take twenty boys into the fag program. There
is a simple and quite prosaic reason for that: the fag dorm only has twenty
beds. Of course, exceptions can always be made - if necessary, for
outstanding candidates who are supernumerary - that means 'over the limit',
Whitworth, look it up next time - I can possibly set up some additional
bunks in my own rooms"

"Now, to begin. Let us imagine, boys, that you have successfully passed
this program and are now fags. Your sixth-former, be he a prefect, a
house-captain or one of our high-achieving sports leaders, has just
returned to his room after a tiring day at his studies, or on the
sportsfield, or wherever he may have been. You are already there, awaiting
his arrival. What would you, as his fag, do for him the moment he walks in
through his doorway?"

"Well, Flannery, yes, I suppose you might offer to brew him a fresh cup of
tea. But that may take a few minutes - are there any more immediate
suggestions?"

"Take his boots and socks off, Varley? Quite a good idea. Others? Come on,
boys, put yourselves in his position - what would you like a fag to do for
you?"

"Give him a hug, Bristow? What if his clothing is all muddy from the rugby
pitch?"

"No, no, no, Shaftesbury Minor, we do not ask him what he wants, it is our
job to anticipate his needs. I mean, think of it - your sixth-former has
returned to his rooms after a long day, all shagged out, in need of
revitalisation and succour: he does not at that moment have any interest in
answering questions from some dozy fag about what he requires. A good fag
always knows instinctively what his sixth-former needs. And sets about
meeting that need, without any superfluous conversation. Clearly, we need
some hands-on practice."

"Line up along that wall, you boys there - you shall take first turn at
being fags. The rest of us will act the part of sixth-formers. Now, fags,
we sixth-formers have just returned to our digs after an exhausting day. I
want you lot to think about how you can help us relax and unwind. Maudsley,
as there is an odd number, you will take me as your sixth-former.
Gentlemen, begin! Some of you might help your sixth-former out of his muddy
training clothes, that's very good Hounslow; you too, Anstey. Those of you
with strong hands can massage your sixth-former's shoulders, good thinking
Waddington, that's the spirit. How about those boots and socks, well done
you three, already proceeding down that path, I see."

"Don't be reticent in applying the personal touch, boys, if your
sixth-former is not too mud-splattered. A fag is never afraid of intimacy.
Look here for a moment, while Maudsley demonstrates on me. Notice how he is
hugging me with both arms around my waist...his hands gently caress my
derriere...that's 'buttocks' to you, Whitworth... now he stands on tiptoes
and reaches his face upwards and kisses me on the jaw...no, Duttonley, he
does not have to stick his tongue in my ear, we're trying to be sensible
here."

"Now that you have seen it done well, thank you Maudsley, I want you all to
try it. No need to put your trousers back on, you boys whose fag has
already removed them. In fact, let's make that the starting point - all
fags who have not removed your sixth-former's trousers, please unbuckle
them and take them down now. They'll have to come off sooner or later,
might as well make it now. Thank you, Maudsley, you have very gentle
fingers."

"Very good, all of you fags have now removed the trousers of your
sixth-formers. And very neatly folded, Everton-Whyte, well done. Others,
take note - you're going to have to fold them eventually anyway. Seams
straight, cuffs together. You may as well do the shoes and socks before we
continue."

"Hands up those of you who did not see Maudsley's efforts at hugging and
kissing earlier - hmm, that many. I think the best thing to do at this
stage is to provide a demonstration. I will go along the line of those
acting as sixth-formers and offer each a sample. Whilst I do so, their
corresponding fags will observe. They will then try to duplicate my efforts
on their sixth-former. Any questions? Yes, what is it, Hockings? No, it
does not matter that your sixth-former is not wearing underclothes. You'll
find out why very shortly."

"You're first, Jenkinson; tilt your head back a little, there's a good
chap. Mmmm, very nice. Now you, Smythe-Wilkins. Mmmm, excellent use of
tongue, boy. Ask Matron to do something with that shirt collar, will you?
Whom do I have next?...aah, Hounslow, pucker up, boy. Mmm, good
lad. Obvious all that chewing gum has strengthened your tongue! Carswell, I
seem to recall your uncle was a fag, was he not? Mmmm, oh yes, breeding
will out, I always say. Now, whom do I have here? Why, it is young
Triscott, isn't it? Following in your father's footsteps, eh, boy? Jolly
good. But you'll have to improve on your kissing to meet his high
standard. Mmmm, not too bad, try sucking on my tongue a little more, that's
the boy. Forsyte, you may keep your long locks, but they must be neat and
tidy, understand? Some sixth-formers appreciate a long-haired fag, but not
if he kisses like a stone gargoyle. Mmmm, nicely done."

"Over the course of the next hour, I will reach all of you, but further
practice awaits. Fags, you are now the sixth-formers. Sixth-formers, you
are now fags. Each of you move two places down the line so that you have a
different partner; yes, Whitworth, that means you are now with Mellifont.
Fags, I want you to sit on the floor and take your sixth-former's feet into
your lap; no, no, Abbotsleigh, one at the time; and give a foot massage,
every inch of flesh, every toe, right up to the calf. Yes, I realise you
are wearing no underclothes, Fulcher-Lewis, that means you will have to be
very careful with Dinsmore's foot when it is in your lap, won't you."

"Sixth-formers, I want you resting back on your elbows while your feet are
being pampered. This is a service that fags may well expect to give their
sixth-former daily, so I expect all of you to become proficient at it. And
how do we tell if we are delivering a good foot-rub, Anstey? Well, yes, I
suppose a smile might be a good indicator, but I was thinking of something
a little more...definitive. What about you, Holloway, what would convince
you that you were giving a superlative foot-rub to your sixth-former?
Exactly, boy! An erection! Splendid, well done. Hands up the boys who can
see an erection in the lap of their sixth-former already?"

"I see hands from everyone on the fag side except for you, Norris- what is
it, boy, can't get a rise out of Varley? Try sucking on his toes, that
should do it. Yes of course they're clean, he had a bath last evening, I
should know, I supervised him. All right the rest of you, now that you have
caused this erection, it is become your responsibility to do something
about it. Do I have any suggestions as to what?"

"Quite so, Maudsley, we could give out sixth-former a nice relaxing wank,
that will certainly be in order. Now I am well aware that in the past I
have discouraged the practice of wanking whenever I have caught any of you
boys performing that action, either alone or in the company of another boy
or boys. There have even been those of you that I have had to punish with
the cane when caught flagrantly in the act, isn't that so, Fulcher-Lewis!
But now that you aspire to the exalted position of school fag, the act of
wanking off a sixth former, or if the need arises, each other, is no longer
a transgression to be punished but a generous duty to be performed
enthusiastically and gladly."

"Firstly, are there any of you who are acting as sixth-formers who can
produce seminal fluid? I already know about some of you: Hounslow, Matron
has told me about your bedsheets I don't know how many times; yes,
Flannery, you started just the other week; oh, and you too, Holloway? Good
chap, and a few more of you as well. Jolly good. Now please, boys, do not
get the impression that those of you who do not yet make this manly
emission will be any the less desired by your sixth-former - some seniors
prefer a fag who cannot squirt. The reason for my question is somewhat more
mundane: I don't want you to spill your ejaculate on your school shirts!
So, those of you who are acting as fags for any of those boys whom I named,
please unbutton their shirts for them. Good show. Yes, Abbotsleigh, good
thinking, take the shirt off completely."

"Secondly, for those of you who are not proficient in wanking- there's no
need to giggle, Dinsmore, this is serious - I will demonstrate, or rather,
Maudsley will demonstrate on me. I know from observation that Maudsley is
quite an accomplished wanker - he has shown his proficiency upon, oh, let's
see, Jenkinson, as I recall, and Shaftesbury Minor also, in the Art
Supplies room I believe, wasn't it? So all of you gather around while he
shows you his superlative technique."

"Notice how Maudsley grazes my nipples as he removes my shirt - it's little
touches such as this which will make you a sought-after fag. Now you can
see the best way to pull down a set of drawers: carefully, not like I saw
you doing in Whitworth's bed the other evening, Smythe-Wilkins. It's a
wonder you didn't do him some permanent damage. As you can all observe,
Maudsley first runs his fingers through my pubic hair, which all of your
sixth-formers will have in abundance, unless they are on the school
swimming team. This will usually induce an erection, as you can all plainly
see, if your sixth-former is not already randy."

"Now, after his careful preparation, you can see that Maudsley has grasped
my manhood and is sliding the skin up and down. This is much easier with
uncut members - who can tell me the name of the only circumcised
sixth-former? That is correct, Hockings, it is indeed Master Epstein. What
he lacks in foreskin he makes up for in...well, perhaps you will be
fortunate enough to find out. You may be lucky enough to be his fag, if you
perform well. Please observe that Maudsley has gradually accelerated his
pace - after all, your sixth-former may have other tasks to do; you should
not presume that he will be exclusively yours to wank all evening."

"No, MacLeish, you are not required to use two hands - you may prefer to
use one on his member and the other on his bollocks. That way you can
alternate so it is less tiring for you. Some sixth-formers can last up to
ten minutes, which means you need to practice this skill and build up your
arm strength. Notice how Maudsley has produced a kerchief to catch my
emission, aaaahh, yes, boy, well done. If you are not observant, your
sixth-former may explode suddenly, which will mean a clean-up job for you."

"Very well, boys, you've seen how it's done, now pair up with a friend and
try it out. Take turns at playing the role of sixth-former, and I will
scrutinise each pair in action. We have only another thirty minutes left
today, but we meet again tomorrow after lunch. Good work, Dinsmore. Steady
as she goes, Anstey, you don't want to break it off! Try using your other
hand, Varley. No need for that cloth, Holloway, I don't think Carswell can-
oh, really, Carswell? Since last vacation? Jolly good show old chap, I
would never have guessed!"

I permitted the boys to practice their wanking skills on each other for a
further half hour, allowing them a few interchanges of role between fag and
sixth-former. Some of the boys, as I have alluded to, have already had
surreptitious wanking experience with each other, but there were still a
few innocents in the group - Anstey, for example, handled Jenkinson's tool
as if it were a bicycle pump. As I recall, he is an only child, clearly in
need of some further guidance.

"Thank you gentlemen, please dress yourselves and depart in an orderly
fashion. Oh, Anstey, please come to my rooms before prep. And, er,
Maudsley, I'll see you after prep, if you would be so kind."

Afternoon showers proved to be a more convivial experience than the usual
chaos - just as one would expect when the latent sexual energies of the
boys are directed towards a socially productive goal. As I made my rounds
of the open shower cubicles I made sure to compliment several of the boys
on their efforts from earlier in the afternoon. A few, in particular that
harlot Smythe-Wilkins, brazenly grinned as he wanked in front of me, while
even the previously demure Anstey smiled as he washed his bottom, facing
me. His usual stance until now was to face towards the taps, hiding his
front. I was delighted to sense an awakening in the boy, which I hoped to
encourage and develop after supper.

During our evening meal, the boys who selected themselves for the fag group
gravitated together at table, an initiative I had been secretly hoping
for. They were beginning to bond as a group, to prefer each other as
companions, and to talk about the duties that would soon become their lot
for a year. I relaxed my strict rule against table chatter before dessert,
and several boys whispered among themselves their enthusiasm for the
opportunity to join the fags. I was quietly delighted.

The period of time between supper and prep is usually a chance for the boys
to watch the evening news on television, or write to their families, or
tidy their wardrobes. Some boys change into their pyjamas and brush their
teeth, to avoid the rush before bedtime. I was pleased that Anstey knocked
on my door, it would have been disappointing to have to send for him. He
wore summer pyjamas, the shirt modestly tucked into the shorts. I rose from
my desk and sat in my easy chair, beckoning him to me.

"Anstey, good lad", I encouraged him as I invited him into the room. If he
was surprised to see me naked, he covered it well. "Let's get these clothes
off you, shall we", I urged, unbuttoning his shirt and lowering his
shorts. "That's better, isn't it, my boy. Now, sit here on my lap and we
shall review today's lessons." I caressed and cuddled the naked boy with
abandon, kissing him deeply and handling his tiny weapon, which I was glad
to see rose to full mast as soon as I removed his pyjama bottoms.

Some boys are brave when in the company of their age-mates, readily playing
their boyish games of sexual exploration and titillation, but become shy
when alone with a lecherous adult. Happily, Anstey was not one of these;
rather, he was quite the opposite. He quickly placed his hand on my rigid
tool, and fondled it in a very lustful manner. Shy in the company of other
boys, he readily opened up to me. He explained that his uncle was a fag
when a student at the School some twenty years ago, and had urged young
Anstey to carry on the tradition. The boy even implied that his uncle would
help him with fag training over the summer break if the lad wished, so that
on his return into Grade 9 the boy would be a complete fag, capable of
efficiently servicing any sixth-former (or indeed teacher). Between kisses
Anstey described his joy at being able to join the fags, and that today had
been the happiest and most exciting day of his schooling thus far.

I was sorely tempted to anticipate tomorrow's fag lessons and push the
boy's mouth onto my tool, but I showed restraint. Instead, I let him
manipulate me to a most satisfying climax, after which I used my juices to
lubricate his small erection to a succession of dry orgasms which made him
gasp for breath. Ah, the recuperative powers of youth!

I helped a smiling Anstey back into his pyjamas, promising him he could
always come to me during his fag year for advice and comfort, and
reassuring him that I was certain there would be many sixth-formers who
preferred fags with immature penises, so there was no need to worry about
his tardy puberty. The prep bell rang, demanding my presence. For those
unfamiliar with boarding school parlance, "prep" means "homework", and all
the boys (except the seniors, who had private study rooms) were expected to
return to their classrooms for at least an hour to prepare for the next
day's lessons. I slipped my own pyjamas on and covered them with a light
robe, joining my boys as they trudged back to the classroom.

The final bell of the day marked the end of prep, which meant I would
shortly be seeing young Maudsley in my rooms, a most pleasant
assignation. When I arrived to unlock my door, the boy was already there,
waiting for me, wearing only a small bathtowel around his waist. "Ah, good
lad" I exclaimed, ruffling his hair. He draped the towel on a chair as soon
as we entered, wordlessly helping me out of my pyjamas.

"Maudsley, my lad", I sighed as we frigged each other's stiff tools while
sitting in the chair I had recently occupied with young Anstey, "I am
giving serious consideration to the idea of making you Head Boy of the fag
dorm" The boy's elfin face lit up with gratitude, and in an excess of
enthusiasm I would normally have frowned upon, he slid off my lap to kneel
on the floor and engulfed my prong with his gleeful mouth. I decided to
excuse this lapse in decorum, allowing the boy to coax another orgasm from
me, my second for the evening. After swallowing the fruits of my climax, he
resumed his place on my lap and engaged me in another bout of
tongue-duelling, during which time I wanked him off. A single clear droplet
was the reward for my efforts. It was Maudsley's first emission, modest
though it was, and he was justifiably proud (and grateful).

The next morning saw an appreciable improvement in the boys' efforts at
their morning ablutions. Usually, such chores as teethbrushing and hair
combing are paid only cursory attention, but today the spaces in front of
the bathroom mirrors became prized locations as boys jostled to inspect
their grooming. A few well-chosen words from me had them scamper off to the
refectory for breakfast, with only two laggards - Maudsley wanted to give
me a morning kiss, and Forsyte desired my opinion on his new
hairstyle. Normally I frown on hair gel for young boys, but I softened my
reply by telling him it looked 'fabulous!'. His grin lit up the bathroom,
and his hug nearly squeezed the breath out of me.

At morning recess I received a visit from Smythe-Wilkins. He told me that
he had spent part of the night in bed with Whitworth, and was beginning to
have emotional feelings for him, and was worried that if he became a fag he
would not have sufficient time to devote to his budding relationship with
said Whitworth. I hugged him closely while explaining that there existed
the option for some sixth-formers to take two fags at once, which would
mean the two boys would need to be very close friends
indeed. Smythe-Wilkins was delighted at this solution, and kissed me
fervently. I was certainly looking forward to the additional training that
those two would need.

The period between lunch and the end of lessons was the neophyte fags'
designated training time, and we met in the fags' common room as before. I
suggested to the boys that we begin by separating into two groups again,
lining up opposite each other. "As I alluded to yesterday, one of a fag's
duties is to undress his sixth-former, especially after sports
training. Boys in this line will be fags first - please undress your
sixth-former. Everton-Whyte, you are with me for the time being."

What a change had come over these eight-graders! Only a few days earlier
their lusts for each other had been kept hidden, or at best hastily acted
upon in shameful secrecy. Today, both groups of boys, the undressers and
those being undressed, took to their tasks with joyful abandon! In short
order, a line of boys stood naked, preening in front of each other, basking
in their natural glory, most of them proudly erect. Everton-Whyte certainly
enjoyed being stripped by my eager fingers.

"Very well done, boys. Now, change roles, please - those who have been
undressed may now undress their partners." Everton-Whyte didn't need any
further invitation; he had my clothes off within a minute, neatly folded
and placed in a pile on the floor. The whole group now stood naked and
expectant. "Let's review our first lesson: a welcoming hug and a kiss."

It was a sheer delight to me to see such a massive improvement in the boys
from their first efforts at kissing. Where previously there were only
tentative pecks on the cheek and coquettish pokes with the tongue, now
there was full oral contact, with tongues exploring deeply, lips locked yet
fluidly in constant motion.

"Just because your lips are busy does not mean your hands should be idle,
Dinsmore!" I urged. "Place them on Varley's bottom, if you would be so
kind, and caress him. Varley, what have I told you about pinching? Dinsmore
is not some tavern wench!"

I permitted the boys a further ten minutes to kiss and cuddle and fondle,
pointing out errors in technique where I was able, before calling them to
order for the next lesson, the next step on their road towards becoming
fully trained fags. "Gentlemen, break apart please. Leave Whitworth's tool
alone, Smythe-Wilkins, you will have plenty of time for that after lights
out. Hounslow, cease that infernal giggling, show some decorum, boy."

"Now, boys, we are come to a turning point in your instruction. Some of you
may feel that naked kissing and cuddling is all very well and good, but
wish to go no further. But to be thoroughly trained fags, you will indeed
have to go further, to expand your horizons. Therefore, if any boys feel,
after today's lesson, that fagging is not for them, you may be excused from
future participation with no ill will on anyone's part. As I told you all
at the outset, fagging is not for everyone."

"This is where we separate the true fags from those boys who merely wish to
avoid gym class. It is, if you will, the bread-and-butter of fagging,
namely, taking your sixth-former's masculine member in your mouth. All
sixth-formers will expect this service done to them at one time or another,
usually more than one time, so we must all be well-prepared for it. I see
that everyone is in a suitable state of arousal, very good, so now I shall
ask: who among you has already taken a penis into his mouth? No need for
false modesty, and I do not care one whit whether it is a classmate, or a
friend, an older brother, uncle, father, clergyman, choirmaster, or one of
the teachers at this very school - hands up!"

"Yes, put it straight up in the air, Carswell, your arm isn't broken. Hmm,
about half of you, I see. Excellent. Can those boys who raised their hands
form a line here and kneel down. Yes, Triscott, what is it? Of course you
may rest upon your heels. Now, the remainder of you, line up opposite these
kneeling boys, one each. Everton-Whyte, you're still with me. Now, kindly
introduce your erection into the waiting open mouth of the boy opposite
you. No, Forsyte, he's not going to bite, look here and observe how I do it
to Everton-Whyte."

"See how I move my feet apart to lower the level of my loins, thus making
my manhood exactly the same altitude as Everton-Whyte's mouth. Notice how I
push my hips forward slowly, aaah, as my glans makes contact with his
cherry-red lips, ohhh, my boy, mmmm. Now regard the way Everton-Whyte opens
those same lips, not gaping, but just enough to admit my member, which of
course is quite aroused by this stage. Carefully observe how Everton-Whyte
allows my phallus to push his lips over his teeth - it would not do to
scratch your sixth-former's erection, after all, an infection may set in,
as mouths are notoriously unsanitary."

"Uhhh, when my member reaches the limit of its ingress, which I can feel by
the change in texture of Everton-Whyte's throat, I begin to withdraw. Not
too far, mind! I don't want to leave the moist warmth of his mouth entirely
- just far enough to stimulate my organ. So, having established the optimal
depth of insertion, I begin my rhythm of insertion and withdrawal. Some
sixth-formers may take hold of your ears as they copulate with your mouth,
or perhaps your hair, take note Forsyte. Others will simply stand and
permit you, their fag, to make all the running, as it were."

"Now, as when you were wanking your sixth-former, it will not do to make
oral copulation a drawn-out affair - after all, your sixth-former may have
important matters to attend to, and cannot wait about for hours on end
being sucked off by his fag! Therefore you should use your tongue on the
end of his member at the moment when he pulls back furthest, so that you
bring him to climax in a timely fashion, aaahh, yess, my boy...er, where
was I? Oh, of course, ah, well done Everton-Whyte, you may use your
kerchief and spit, or you may swallow if you prefer. Oh, I see you are a
swallower, jolly good, some sixth-formers prefer a fag who consumes."

"Well now, boys, while I recover for a few moments, I would like you to
form back into your pairs and practice the art of fellation as I have
demonstrated for you. Everton-Whyte, you may accompany me as we observe
each pair. No, you do not need to take notes, all of our advice will be
given 'on-the-fly' as it were. Yes, Hockings, that was a joke."

I draped a hand across Everton-Whyte's bare shoulders as we strolled among
the orally copulating pairs of boys. Boyish grunts, groans and moans filled
the room as the apprentice fags took to their studies with alacrity and a
certain vehemence. I hope that my own example of pleasure inspired them to
deliver a satisfactory performance, although there were a few instances
between some pairs that suggested more practice was indicated.

"Good show, Abbotsleigh, fondling Dinsmore's bollocks is quite acceptable,
even laudable. Just be careful with them, there's a good chap. Yes,
Whitworth, you may place your hands on Smythe-Wilkins' buttocks to moderate
the depth of his thrusts, quite proper. Norris, stop showing off!
Mellifont's member is not your personal plaything! Well done, MacLeish, I
am sure Triscott appreciates your efforts."

I permitted the boys to continue on in a similar vein for another thirty
minutes, and was secretly delighted to hear their moans of disappointment
when the bell rang to announce the end of lessons. "Well done, lads, please
dress quickly and move back to your dormitory. Whitworth and
Smythe-Wilkins, I will see you in my rooms before prep, and...Maudsley,
before lights out if you would, please."

Since Whitworth and Smythe-Wilkins had confided their emotional attachment
for each other to me, I felt it only proper to take charge of managing
their carnal relations, to ensure they have the benefit of my mature
guidance. Young boys fall in and out of lust so easily, and it would be a
pity if this budding romance were to crash and burn due to some avoidable
clumsiness (always a possibility where Whitworth is concerned!)

"Ah, come in, boys" I welcomed W and S-W into my room after supper. "We
have around forty-five minutes before Prep, so let's get down to business,
shall we? Whitworth, help Smythe-Wilkins out of his pyjamas, there's a good
fellow. Now, I want both of you to lay down on my bed - turn the covers
down first Smythe-Wilkins, that's a good lad. No, Whitworth, you obviously
don't need any practice at sixty-nining, what you do need to practice is
both working on a sixth-former at the same time. To provide such practice,
you may exercise your passions on me."

I lay between the two boys and unselfishly permitted them to kiss and
caress every inch of my body. Ah, the sacrifices I make for these boys,
this school! And do I ever receive any thanks for it? The two boys took
turns slobbering over my manhood while I lay back with my hands behind my
head, offering any small gem of advice that I could as they proceeded to
lavish attention on my loins.

"Smythe-Wilkins, try using those lips on my nipples while Whitworth works
on my member. Ahh, yes, that's the way. Whitworth, spend a little time on
my bollocks, they're going dry from lack of attention."

The two boys practice their nascent skills on me for another fifteen
minutes, occasionally kissing each other as the paths of their lips cross
near my member. I would have enjoyed allowing them the taste of my
emission, but I had other plans for it.

"Thank you boys, that is sufficient training for now" I advise the
pair. "You may continue your explorations of each other's body in
Whitworth's bed this evening. Please make sure you have returned to your
own bed before dawn, Smythe-Wilkins. Such behaviour in an eight-grader is a
little premature. When you are fags next year, there will be many
opportunities to spend a night with each other"

The boys thanked me and dressed themselves before departing just as the
prep bell sounded. Tonight's prep was uncommonly quiet, save for the
occasional sigh, as most of the boys had one hand inside their pyjama
trousers as they wrote our their lessons. A few of the bolder ones,
MacLeish and Abbotsleigh among them, had unbuttoned their pyjama trousers
and exposed their modestly-sized erections to the evening air, giving their
members a passing flick now and then. I tolerated such behaviour from the
fag group, knowing how much they needed to stimulate themselves, but
rigorously punished it in the others. As an example, I forced Trebbins, a
non-fag, to bend over his desk and receive four slaps on the bare bottom
for doing what he was not entitled to do. This punishment did not go
unobserved by two fags in the seats behind him, as evidenced by their gasps
of pleasure. I decided to include a talk to the fags about the erotic
aspects of pain in a future training session.

The bell for end of prep rang loudly, and I dismissed the boys, who
returned to the dormitory. Maudsley lagged behind as the rest filed out of
the classroom so that he could enquire of me whether I still wanted to see
him later that evening. I confirmed that I still wanted him (in the worst
way) and that I hoped he was eager for our meeting. The cheeky boy grinned
and insinuated a hand under my robe to search for my manhood, finding it
rigid as a side effect of my earlier chastisement of Trebbins. I bent down
to kiss the boy's mouth (the other boys had already gone on ahead and were
lost to view) and whispered to Maudsley that tonight was the night that he
would become intimately acquainted with the organ which he was holding. The
little coquette giggled and released it, skipping ahead to catch up to his
fellows.

The last hour before lights out stretched into an endless montage of
fussing boys, infantile pranks, pyjama malfunctions, phantom tummy aches
and idle questions about minor skin blemishes. I knew it was only the
anticipation of enjoying young Maudsley's charms that made those sixty
minutes turn into an eternity. Finally, I gave the five-minute warning
flick of the light switch, pausing between flashes to gaze longingly on
Maudsley's lithe young body as it sashayed between the bunks towards my
door. The little angel was dressed in nothing but a small bathtowel which
hung low on his hips, cinched at the side and defying gravity only by the
swell of his buttocks. I was experiencing a swelling of my own as I gave
the light switch its final flick, holding the door of my study open for the
nubile darling.

As soon as I closed the door behind us, Maudsley shimmied his hips, shaking
the towel off. He sank to his knees in front of me and felt under my robe
for my member, which was fully engorged. But I had no wish for the quick
gratification of a mere two minutes of oral copulation - I had more
substantial desires. I permitted young Maudsley to remove my robe and
pyjamas, then led him to my easy chair. A flash of confusion swept over the
boy - I suspect he thought I was leading him to my bed. "My dear boy, I can
see you are puzzled. Climb up onto my easy chair, no, face first, that's
the boy. Put your knees alongside the armrests, that's the way. Your hands
go on the top of the chairback, that's the ticket. Rest your elbows there,
that's the boy. Now edge back a little, that's it. Now you are in
position. Your bottom is elevated at a convenient height and your knees are
spread well apart. You see, the typical sixth-former has no time for
courtship, or lengthy foreplay. He may wish to take you standing up, or
leaning against the wall, or draped over the back of another fag. He does
not desire romance, only the expression of his own manliness. If you are
fortunate, he may caress your flanks, like so, before applying a little
saliva to your orifice."

"That's my good boy, just relax while I rub my spittle all around. Ahh,
your skin is exquisitely soft and smooth, Maudsley," I complimented the boy
as I calmed him with my other hand. I knew from long experience that new
fags can be a mite skittish when taking an erection in their bottom the
first few times, and Maudsley appeared to be no exception. His body
trembled under my hand as I lined up my thickened member with his
pucker. "Now breathe slowly and evenly, there's a good lad. This may feel a
little strange at first, my boy, but I am sure you will make me proud. Your
dear mother wrote to me only the other day to say how happy she was that
you were training to be a fag, and more, that you were going to be under me
for the whole year as Head Boy of the fag dorm. And under me, you
shall...be!" With my last word I thrust myself between the boy's cheeks,
entering his hot, moist inner sanctum. He gave a little moan, then bravely
pushed his hips back! I was most impressed. I have not enjoyed such a
willing fag since, oh, it must be five years, since Shaftesbury Major's
time.

Maudsley groaned softly, a low rumbling in his throat as I carefully pushed
forward. With both hands on the boy's hips, I pressed home my advantage
until I was fully lodged within him. "I'm all the way in, Maudsley, you've
done quite well, my boy," I whispered to him, hearing his whimper in
reply. I reached one hand around his waist to find his member, and was
delighted to feel that it was already engorged. In my experience, a boy
appreciates being buggered all the more if his own member is pleasured at
the same time. I began rocking back and forth, Maudsley's gasps only
serving to increase my passion as I built up a steady rhythm.

"Aah, yes, my boy, you are doing very well for your first time. It is your
first buggering, is it not? I thought so. Try squeezing your anal sphincter
a little each time I withdraw, that should increase my pleasure. Oh, yes,
that's excellent, my lad. Now try to sway your derriere from side to side,
ahh, yes, exactly like that, you're a natural, Maudsley, I always suspected
it. Oohh, yes, lad, I foresee that you will be very popular among the
sixth-formers when you return for your fag year in September, aaahh, now
brace, uhh, yourself, uhh, well done, Maudsley, I am so looking forward to
your next visit." I withdrew from the panting boy's bottom and cleaned us
both up. The boy offered me his lips for a parting kiss after he found his
towel and draped it over his shoulder. I farewelled him fondly, and settled
down for a night of exhausted slumber.

My rest was short-lived: a light tap at the door of my study interrupted my
repose. Maudsley had left only moments before, and indeed I thought it was
that same boy returning to beg the privilege of spending the night with me
in my bed (you may smirk, but your incredulity would be unfounded). I rose
to greet young Shaftesbury Minor, who stood before me wearing a most
fetching set of short pyjamas. The poor little fellow's tears were still
damp on his adorable cheeks as he sniffled out his reason for disturbing my
snooze. I ushered the boy within as he began to pour out his heart. As near
as I could make out through his whimpering, some of the other boys, mostly
those in the fag training group, had been filling the boy's head with
gruesome stories about the horror and agony of being buggered, and the
naive little chap believed every word of it. He was now in an advanced
state of terror, and I realised it would take all of my skills to bring the
boy back to a calmer state (and get some sleep).

"Shaftesbury Minor, don't let the horrid things those other boys say upset
you! Come over to my bed and I'll give you the facts about buggery. It's
really quite enjoyable once you get used to it. And I'm sure you will,
before long. Well do I remember the night your older brother, Shaftesbury
Major, came to see me in similar distress. Come, lie alongside me. Let's
get those restrictive clothes off you first, that's the way. Drape your
shirt over that chair, good lad, now your shorts, that's it. Lie down here
next to me, that's the boy, just relax, and I will demonstrate that buggery
can be quite pleasurable for a fag. Yes, you can put your hand on it, just
as I saw you doing with Jenkinson in the storeroom that day. Yes, it does
become firm when you do that, my boy."

"Shaftesbury Minor, you're nearly twelve years old now, and you have
reached that time in a young boy's life when he gets to discover the thrill
of being buggered by an older male. You see, men have certain urges, and
they often find that expressing these urges with women is inconvenient or
unsatisfying in some way. A boy's bottom is frequently found to be a
suitable substitute. Here at our school, the sixth-formers are entitled to
express these urges on defenceless third-formers, and in this way they
don't feel the need to sneak off into the nearby village and get the local
girls knocked up. It's nature's way, my boy. My fondest dream is that one
day, in the future, when you are married and have fathered several sons,
(whom you will of course send to your old alma mater) that I will get the
opportunity to introduce them, each in their turn, to the delights of anal
intercourse."

"Now, I'm guessing that your older brother has not plundered your
virginity? No? That would explain a lot. I had planned to do this tomorrow,
during fag training, but I'm sure a preview would be appropriate, in the
circumstances. Just roll over onto this pillow, there's a good chap. No, a
bit further up, so that your lovely little bottom is nicely elevated,
that's the ticket. My, but your skin is smooth and soft, my lad. Now, don't
be alarmed, I'm just feeling along your crack with my finger, to find your
little anus. No, don't clench up, it's all part of the wonderful
process. That's is, just relax, let my finger soothe that tense little
rosebud of yours. I'll put some lotion on it, to make you feel better,
that's the boy."

"Now, let's get these legs a little wider apart, shall we? Just let your
toes slip over the side of the bed, good lad. Now I'm going to climb on top
of you, just let me know if I'm too heavy; I'll rest my upper body weight
on my elbows in any case, that's what a courteous buggerer will do. Mmm,
your hair smells nice, have you been using that shampoo your mother sent
you? Good lad. Now, I'll just line up my member with your little crack,
that's the ticket, can you feel it? Now, I'll gradually push into you, and
you'll never have to worry about being a virgin again. Relax a bit more,
that's the boy, oooh, you are tight, so very tight, yes, that's the boy,
just relax and let it happen...there! Did you feel that, my boy? That was
the knob of my weapon passing within your outer portal. Somewhat like a
carriage bearing a welcome visitor passing through the gates of your
country home. Oh yes, my boy, I have heard all about your fine estate from
your brother, Shaftesbury Major. Aaaahh, now the carriage travels up
the...uhhh...driveway and approaches the portico, mmm, yesss, the carriage
needs to do some reversing, to get into the optimal position, yesss,
reverse, forward, reverse, mmm, nearly to the front doors, uhhh, about to
disgorge its passengers, uhh, uhhh, ugghhh, oh, my boy, that was divine!"

"Now, Shaftesbury Minor, if those naughty boys tease you again about being
a virgin, and try to terrify you with stories about your first buggering,
you can jolly well tell them it's old news and that you are as experienced
as any of them. I can assure you that you are every bit the fag that your
older brother was. Just slip into my bathroom and clean yourself up,
there's a good chap. Don't forget your nightclothes, they're on that chair
over there. Sweet dreams, dear boy."

The remainder of my night was undisturbed, thankfully - I doubt that I
would have had the strength left to bugger another boy, and I needed to
replenish my vigour for the coming afternoon's lesson with the
fags. Maudsley woke me with a nice hot cup of tea just as the first bell
sounded - it reassured me that I had made the right choice for head Boy of
the fag dorm. The boys were already busy about their morning ablutions when
I entered the common bathroom to check on their toothbrushing and
haircombing and so forth. Even Shaftesbury Minor gave me a shy smile and a
cheeky wink when I passed him at his washbasin. I patted his unclad bottom
for him, eliciting a small giggle. Boys! They bounce back so quickly!

The morning's lessons flew by, apart from a brief interruption from the
Headmaster, who wanted to look over the new batch of fags, no doubt
desirous of selecting the prettiest boy to be his own personal page-boy. I
advised him that the best time to examine the boys was during out afternoon
session, when the boys would be comfortably naked and undertaking their fag
lessons. A sensible man, he accepted my advice. Well, really, it just
doesn't do to disturb the boys at their academic studies merely to satisfy
one's own lusts, and that's all he was after. I am not a judgemental
person, by any means, but one must draw the line somewhere.

At lunch, the boys were a little skittish. They had every right to be; they
all knew the likely content of today's fag studies, namely, buggering. In
the course of this week, we had progressed through the various stages of
fag service: the removal of a sixth-former's clothes, wanking, oral
stimulation of the sixth-former's member; the Rubicon was yet to be
crossed. True, a few lucky boys (Maudsley and Shaftesbury Minor, at the
very least) had anticipated the lesson, but that was all to the good: they
could reassure the others that being rogered by a sixth-former was not
likely to be fatal. I gathered the boys together in the fag dorm common
room after lunch and addressed them.

"Boys, I am delighted with your progress thus far. You have now completed
almost all of the steps along the pathway to fagdom. One step
remains. Before I move to that subject, may I ask who among you are still
virgins? No, Jenkinson, fingers do not count. Hmm, so few? I suppose it is
for the best. Now, can anyone tell us what the ultimate step in being a fag
is? Yes, Abbotsleigh? You are correct, my boy, although I prefer you not to
use such a vulgar expression. We are gentlemen, after all. We do not need
to descend to the language of the gutter. The Head will be along directly
to inspect your progress, and perhaps select a fortunate one from among you
to be his valet next year. And I have further news for you, but before I
reveal it, please undress each other and we shall prepare for today's
lesson."

The boys were quietly exuberant as they removed each other's garments in
preparation for the day's session, several of them already in a state of
arousal. I smiled benignly on every boy as I revelled in the beauty of
their nakedness, giving a slight nod to those boys whose organs already
stood proud and straight (or in the case of Flannery, proud and
curved). Soon, all the new fags were ready, with clothes neatly folded and
placed along the wall. "Very good, boys. It pleases me to see how far you
have come in just a few days. But I am not the only person at the School
who is impressed by your obvious qualities. As you know, selection of next
year's School leaders has been taking place among the sixth formers for the
past week, and several of those who will be House Captains and Sports
Captains next year have already cast an eye over you. Yes, even you,
Jenkinson, have not gone unnoticed."

"As a result of these observations, many sixth formers have made known to
me their preferences, and I will elaborate on some of them as we move
through the afternoon's lesson. Now, you boys would know better than I, who
among you has the largest endowment? The reason I ask is that Master
Phillips, who will be captaining the First XI in cricket next year, has
expressed a desire to be on the receiving end of a regular buggering, and I
expect he wants to feel it. Hounslow, you say? Come here, Hounslow, and let
me have a look at you. Yes of course make it stiff, boy, what's the point
otherwise? Hmm, I see that the judgement of your fellow fags is sound, you
have quite the weapon there. I will expect you to practice with it tonight
until oh, let's say eleven o'clock, let me see, tonight you can bunk in
with, hmm, Duttonley, I think. Make sure you give him a good rogering, I
expect to hear from him tomorrow morning that you satisfied yourself at
least twice inside his bottom. Now, for practice, you may bugger Triscott
while I explain the finer points of sodomy to the group."

"Triscott, over here, if you please. Take hold of the back of that chair
and bend slightly forwards, that's the fellow. Feet apart! Now, come and
stand behind him, Hounslow, and place one hand on his lower back, yes, just
so. You will see, gentlemen- yes, those in front should kneel down to allow
those in back to see, good idea Anstey- as I was saying, you can see that
in this position, Hounslow cannot see Triscott's face; his most prominent
feature is his shapely bottom. You will find that many sixth-formers prefer
a fag to be in this position for that very reason: they like to imagine
they are copulating with their girlfriend, or a servant girl, or some
village wench, rather than a boy. Now, Hounslow, moisten your index finger
in your mouth, and bring it down to Triscott's crack, yes, exactly like
that, now rub around his anus to lubricate it. Some sixth-formers will use
Vaseline, but you cannot always rely on them to be considerate in this
way. A sixth-former, after all, is a very simple organism, gentlemen - it
eats, it sleeps, it studies, it plays sport, it copulates. That is about
the limit of its abilities. It has no spare brain power for such niceties
as foreplay or lubrication, so none of you should expect these
refinements."

"Now, Hounslow, I believe you have loosened Triscott's anus sufficiently,
you may introduce your glans to his pucker. Gently at first, boy, you don't
want to hurt him. Take a deep breath, Triscott, it may help. Oh, well done,
Hounslow, you got in on the first try! What's that? You've been practicing
with Fulcher-Lewis in the Art Supplies room? I really must speak to the Art
Master about that room! Oh well, it's all to the good, I am sure. Now,
Hounslow, push gently forward. Triscott, you push backwards. Slowly, lad!
Excellent, I see that your member is fully entrenched within Triscott's
nether regions. Now you may begin the buggering. Slowly at first, there's a
good chap. You other boys, notice how Hounslow has commenced a steady
rhythm- it will be up to you to educate your sixth-former in the optimal
method of buggery- Ah! Headmaster, exquisite timing, as usual! How good of
you to visit us! Keep going, Hounslow, the Head is going to observe our
little group for a few moments."

"You will observe, Headmaster, that the boys are paying close attention to
young Hounslow's efforts. Please move around the group and observe their
attentiveness. Do any of the lads take your fancy? That one's name is
Varley- step to the side please, Varley, the Head will be with you
shortly. This one is Hockings, yes, his father was Captain of the First XV
Rugger team back in seventy-one, before my time, I'm afraid. Hockings, go
and join Varley, if you would be so kind."

While I was instructing the boys on the finer points of buggery, using
Hounslow's performance with Triscott as an example, I noticed out of the
corner of my eye that the Headmaster had ordered the two boys he had
selected to kneel in front of him and unzip his trousers. I only hope the
fellow does not undo all my good work with those two, I have high hopes for
them. But I need not have worried: the Head simply wanted some quick
afternoon relief, and he readily sent Varley and Hockings back to the
group, both of their faces liberally sprayed with his pearly essence. He
then zipped up, bade us a profitable afternoon and departed.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was advising some of you of your assignments
for next year. Forsyte, kindly do not allow your mother to trim those
luscious locks of yours; it appears that Master Walford-Jones, yes lad, the
captain of the School swimming team, has cast an eye in your direction and
found you not entirely unpleasant to look at. You will be his fag next
year, and he particularly requested you keep your hair long, goodness knows
why."

"Anstey, be a good little chap and come over here. Good lad. Now, bend at
the waist and place your hands on your knees. Feet apart a little, that's
the shot. You will observe, the rest of you, a position that you may be
required to take if there are no chairs, walls or tables nearby when your
sixth-former wishes to copulate with you. You will notice that it makes the
bottom stick out nicely, thank you, Anstey, now I shall insert my member in
your rectum, uhhh, umm, nggh, aaahhh, very nice, too. Should your
sixth-former wish to bugger you in a more salubrious location, such as his
rooms, you may be able to find a more comfortable pose. Anstey, dear boy, I
shall pull out, then I want you to crouch on all fours for me."

When the boy assumed the position I indicated, I knelt behind him and
reintroduced my engorged member to his anus. I felt his bottom twitch in a
most charming manner as I entered him. He gave a little squeak when my
bollocks brushed his ballbag as they swung back and forth as I commenced my
buggering of the brave little fellow. I believe it was his first. Certainly
his first with an audience. "Gentlemen, you will find that it is much more
comfortable to receive a rogering while kneeling on a bed. You should
encourage your sixth-former to enjoy your bottom in that location. Anstey,
next year's Deputy Captain, Master Ponsonby, has expressed a preference for
you as his fag. I assured him you would be prepared. Hounslow! Are you
still rogering Triscott? Good gracious, finish him off, man, we haven't all
afternoon! Poor Triscott must be exhausted! Oh, well done, Anstey, you have
brought me off in a most thrilling manner."

"Now, Master Farquhar, the captain of the soccer team, has indicated to me
that he finds you quite handsome, Mellifont, his eyesight must be in
desperate need of attention, so you will be his fag next year. I take it
you enjoy soccer? Not to worry, you will learn to feign interest. Think of
the benefits - the soccer team takes trips to other schools, and quite a
sumptuous high tea is provided after their game when they play at home, to
which you would be invited. Kindly do not allow any of the visiting players
to take liberties with your person- unless Farquhar requests it, of
course."

"Finally, as this is our last session before you leave tomorrow, I urge all
of you to pursue some fag practice with your older brothers, uncles,
domestic staff, cousins and what-have-you during your vacations. Oh, that
reminds me, I have received letters from some of your parents: Norris, your
mother and father have both rushed off to West Africa at the urgent request
of Medecins Sans Frontiere, so you will be remaining at school for the
vacation. You will be staying with me, in fact. Forsyte, your mother has
some urgent business at a rehabilitative spa in Austria, and has put you in
my care for the duration of the holiday. And, let me see, oh yes,
Abbotsleigh, your stepfather advised me that he is taking your mother on
their honeymoon to the Riviera - pity you had to miss the wedding, but it
fell squarely in the middle of the School's poetry week celebrations. So
you also will be joining me."

"So, in pairs now, following what you have learnt from Hounslow's very
thorough demonstration on Triscott, let us have some buggering
practice. Jenkinson, you are with me. Make sure you try several positions,
boys, use your imaginations. Bend over, Jenkinson, we don't have all
day. Good lad, uhhh, that's the ticket, squeeze those muscles. Well done,
Smythe-Wilkins, placing Whitworth on his back will allow you excellent
penetration; Whitworth, wrap your legs around Smythe-Wilkins' waist, yes,
just like that - you will find that you can lock your ankles- oh, you seem
to be familiar with this technique already, jolly good. Mmm, yes,
Jenkinson, you will make a fine fag; I believe I shall recommend to next
year's Captain of the debating team that you would be a suitable fag for
him."

After swapping partners, I permitted the boys another half hour of sodomy
practice before concluding our session. I myself practiced on
Fulcher-Lewis. It was abundantly clear that mine was not the first weapon
to be sheathed in his scabbard, but on the positive side it took but little
effort on my part to bring the boy to a satisfactory climax. The cheeky
blighter even thanked me for giving him a 'good ride'. Hmph! I must
remember to have a few words with the English master about the slovenly
speech of these boys!

The last day of term was finally upon us. My annual duty to the school was
complete, although I prefer to think of it as a labour of love more than a
duty. The boys undertook a half-day of lessons before their parents arrived
to collect them. As the result of a somewhat distressing telephone call, I
had to advise young Maudsley, privately of course, that his parents were in
the midst of a bitter divorce, and had requested of me that he stay at the
school for the vacation, lest he be unsettled by the events that had
overtaken the family. Naturally I agreed immediately. So now I had the care
of four young charges for eight weeks. Hmm, what to do, what to do...

I allowed the boys their freedom after lunch, and met them again at supper,
where the five of us shared a table. I explained that I would be moving
some bunks into my room for them to use, to save on heating. When we left
the dining room, there being no prep to attend to, I invited the boys to
join me in my rooms. "No need to bring your pyjamas, boys, we shall be
engaging in some further practice," I advised them. When we met up later at
my rooms, the four lads were deliciously naked, and thoroughly aroused. Now
I normally eschew the playing of favourites with the boys - they do not
appreciate it, and it only produces unwanted enmities - but school was
finished for the year, and Maudsley had the most coquettish cheeky grin on
his face as he stepped forward with his hand extended and led me to my own
bed. "You three boys make sure you take turns, now, and I expect to hear
all about it at breakfast," I cautioned, as I enveloped Maudsley in my
arms, rolling him onto his back. "Oh, Maudsley, my boy, your parents' loss
is my gain. Let us both forget ourselves for this night." It is not my
custom to lavish endearments on a boy, but dash it all, Maudsley is going
to be head boy of the fag dorm, after all.

end