Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2017 15:41:32 +0000
From: Andy Brown <andybrown2000@outlook.com>
Subject: Tutoring Dylan - Chapter 19

Tutoring Dylan - chapter 19


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We writers can be insecure creatures.  Putting pen to paper (or fingers to
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Emails from my readers have dried up considerably recently, and this is
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***

From the end of chapter 18:

I went back outside a short time later, a bowl of ice cream in each hand.
I put one down in front of Dylan and poured us both another glass of wine.

"...yeah, okay mum... will do... yeah, love you too... bye."  Putting his
phone down on the patio table, Dylan picked up his bowl and began to wolf
it down.

"Good, eh?" I asked.  Dylan just nodded whilst he shovelled another large
spoonful into his mouth.

***


Soon, we'd both finished our ice cream, our empty bowls discarded on the
patio table.

"So," I said, taking a sip of wine, "I take it your mum's letting you go to
Zach's then?"

"Yeah.  It should be fun," he replied, a cheeky smile spreading across his
face.

"Mmmm.  I bet it will!"  I raised an eyebrow to show him I knew exactly
what the two of them were likely to be getting up to.

Dylan blushed slightly.  My goodness, I loved it when he did that.
Somehow, it made him seem more boyish.

"So what are we gonna do with all your stuff?" I asked him.

"What d'ya mean?"

"You know... your clothes and things.  Are you taking them to Zach's with
you?"

"Weeelllll," he replied, his drawn out word pretty much telling me the
answer before he gave it.  "Could you... perhaps... drop them off at home?"

"How did I know that was coming," I laughed.  "Sure I can kiddo."  I
stretched out and ruffled his hair.  Playfully, he pushed me away and ran
his fingers through it, trying to get his locks back to how they were
styled before.

For a few moments we sat in a contented silence, both of us taking
occasional sips from our wine glasses.

"Andy? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I replied.  "Ask me anything you like."

"Why did you stop teaching?"

I guess I should have been expecting this.  I suppose, when you're a kid,
you look at your teacher and expect that they'll be at your school forever.
And expect that they'll be a teacher forever.  As these thoughts crossed my
mind, I was rather surprised he hadn't asked me about this sooner.

"Well Dylan," I began.  "That's a rather complicated question, but I may as
well tell you the whole story."

Over the next twenty minutes or so I gave him pretty much a blow-by-blow
account of what had happened, and how I'd felt, over the twelve months
after Dylan had left the school.  How I'd missed him, the difficulties with
my new class, my head teacher's obsession with performance data and
observations, the Ofsted visit, breaking up with my boyfriend... the works.
Despite it being nearly two years since some of that stuff had happened,
the wounds opened back up, and I began to feel myself shaking as I told my
tale.

"Woah," Dylan responded, putting his arm around my waist and giving me a
squeeze.  "Sounds like a pretty shit year."

"It was," I agreed.

"And I didn't realise Mrs May was such a bitch!  She always seemed so nice
to us all."

"To you kids, maybe," I said.  "But to the staff... well, let's just say we
all lived in fear of her."

"In that case, I'm surprised you didn't leave earlier."

"What?  And risk missing you get to the end of year 6?" I joked.  "But
seriously, up until you left she was absolutely fine with me.  I mean, I'd
seen her pretty much destroy Mr Hunter, Miss Atkinson and Mrs Rush, but I
guess we all thought, well at least she's going after them and not us."

"Oh, so that's why they all left?"

I nodded.  "But then, as I say, the summer you moved - which was also the
summer Mrs Rush left - she turned her claws towards me.  By the end of that
year I'd had enough and I just had to get out."  By this stage I could feel
my eyes welling up.  Using a discarded napkin, I wiped away a tear.  Seeing
this, Dylan squeezed me tighter before leaning over and giving me a kiss on
the cheek.

Another break in the conversation followed.  I guessed Dylan was taking
everything in, whereas I just needed a few moments to recompose myself.

A few minutes later, Dylan spoke again.  "So, do you think you'll ever go
back to teaching?"

"I dunno.  Maybe I should come work at your school," I joked.  "Then I
could perv on you and your sexy mates all day."

Dylan punched my arm lightly.  "No, seriously.  Do you think you will?"

I shrugged.  "Probably not.  I mean, I enjoyed it for the most part, and
your class were particularly fun to be around.  But I'd never really
intended to become a teacher, to be honest.  I just sort of fell into it."

"Oh," Dylan said, looking a bit shocked.  "So what did you want to be?"

"Well, ever since I was little, I wanted to be a writer.  My parents had
always sort of tolerated the idea, but then, after I finished at uni, they
told me I needed to get a proper job.  And that's how I ended up as a
teacher."

"Maybe you should try it now."

"What?  Writing?"

Dylan nodded.

"It's a nice thought," I told him.  "But it doesn't pay very well."

"But isn't JK Rowling like a millionaire?"

"Well yes, I suppose she is.  But she's the exception rather than the rule.
Most writers make very little money."

"But shouldn't you at least try, since it's what you've always wanted to
do?"

I knew he had me at that.  "Maybe," I replied.  Perhaps, I thought to
myself, once I'd finished Dylan's 'tutoring' I could get back to my
writing.  Maybe see if I could cut back my hours at work to the point where
I could just survive financially.  Then use whatever spare time I had for
writing.  Finally get to work on a full-length novel.

Dylan could obviously see I was deep in thought, so he said nothing for a
few minutes.

My daydreaming was interrupted as I heard a faint buzzing sound.
Obviously, so did Dylan as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  As he
read the message he'd just received, he began to frown.

"Who is it?" I enquired.

"It's Oscar," Dylan muttered.  "He wants to know if I'm back home yet."

"Tell him you're still away and that it'll be a few days yet before you get
back."

"Okay," Dylan replied, as he started to type out his message.  Just as he
was about to put the phone back in his pocket, it buzzed again.

"Oscar again?" I asked.

As Dylan looked at his phone, he nodded his head.  "He says, 'OK but let me
know when you get back home.'"

"Hmmmm," I sighed.  "Well I'd try and hold him off for as long as you can,
if I were you."

Dylan typed a quick reply and then stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

"So what about you?" I asked.

"What about me?" he queried.

"What do you want to do when you grow up?"

"Well, I suppose it would be quite cool if I could become a professional
gymnast or diver.  But I know I'm probably not good enough for that to
happen."  He looked slightly sad as he said this.

"But you're really good!" I encouraged him.

"Really good, maybe.  But not out of this world.  And that's what you've
got to be if you're going to make it big."

"But I'm sure you could," I pushed.

"Thanks.  I know you think so.  But you might be just a teeny bit biased."
We both laughed.  "I mean, it's not like I'm not gonna try.  But I've gotta
be realistic.  Hopefully I'll get to the European Youth Games, or something
like that.  That'd be pretty cool.  And you never know, I could get to the
Olympics one day, but I'm not counting my chickens."

"So what else do you want to do?" I asked.  "You know, if you don't do
those professionally."

Dylan squirmed, obviously not really wanting to tell me.

"What is it?" I pressed.

"I can't," he blushed.  "You'll think it's silly."

"Of course I won't."

"You will.  I bet you'll laugh at me," he said, sheepishly.

"I promise I won't."  I put my hand on my chest.  "Hand on heart," I said.

"Okay," he said, cautiously.  "Here goes.  I'd quite like to be a performer
in the West End.  You know, like doing musicals."

"Oh."  His answer had rather shocked me.  Then I thought back to our
camping trip and the conversation we'd had about how school was going.
He'd told me how much he'd been enjoying his music and drama lessons.  And
he'd mentioned that he'd been in the production of 'Oliver' the school had
done before Easter.  I suppose his revelation shouldn't have come as too
much of a shock.

"You see, I knew you'd think it was stupid!"

I stood up, pushed my chair back, and stepped towards him.  Reaching out, I
took both his hands in my own.  With a gentle tug, he got the message.
Soon, he too was on his feet.  Placing one hand on the back of his head,
and my other on his plump bottom, I pulled him towards me.  As our faces
got closer, we tilted our heads.  Our lips met, our tongues probed, and we
melted into each other.

After several seconds of glorious pleasure, I pulled back.

"Dylan," I said, almost breathlessly.  "There is nothing, absolutely
nothing, that you could tell me about yourself that I would think was
silly.  I love you.  I love you probably more than I've ever loved anybody
before."  Dylan smiled, his eyes swimming with emotion.  "I was just a bit
surprised with what you told me, that was all," I continued.  "But I
certainly don't think it's a silly idea.  In fact, I think it's really
cool."

"Thanks," he replied, seemingly at a loss for what else to say.

"It's starting to get a bit chilly out here.  What say we take our wine
inside and then plot how we're gonna get you to be a West End star," I
suggested.

"Yeah, okay," he laughed.

"Can you go put those bowls in the dishwasher," I instructed.  "And I'll
bring the wine and glasses in."

Soon the table was cleared, and we were both sat on the sofa, glass of wine
in hand, my arm around Dylan's shoulders.

"So when did you decide you wanted to be a musical theatre star?" I asked
him.

He thought for a moment.  "I suppose I've always liked being on stage," he
replied.  "Like, even when I was in Reception I was really happy that I got
to be Joseph in the nativity play.  And then each time we did a show at
school, I seemed to get one of the biggest parts."

"Like when you were Tarzan in Year 6?"

"Yeah, that was pretty epic," he said.  "Being the main part and getting to
take the final bow on my own at the end.  It was great getting to be the
star of the show.  I guess it just grew from there.  I was a bit nervous
about singing a solo though.  But everyone seemed to enjoy it, so I reckon
I must have done ok."

"Oh, you were really good," I confirmed.  "And you looked sexy as hell in
that outfit!"

He chuckled.  "And I really enjoyed being one of the ugly sisters when we
did 'Cinderella' in Year 5.  Especially when people laughed at my jokes.
That felt amazing!"

"Mmmm.  I seem to remember you looked pretty hot in that dress you wore."

"Stop it," he said, putting his glass down and pushing me in the ribs.
"I'm trying to be serious here!"

"Sorry.  Carry on."

"Then last year they were doing 'Cats' at my new school.  When I saw the
posters about the auditions, I thought about doing it, but then decided not
to.  But then Charlotte decided she was gonna audition, and she kind of
forced me, Sam and Jack to go to the audition as well.  Although Jack
bailed before the auditions started."

"Right, okay.  So what part did you play?"

"Oh, I was just in the chorus.  I was a bit gutted actually.  With always
having big parts at primary school, I suppose I just expected I'd get one
again, which was a bit silly really.  I mean, there's so many more kids at
high school.  And some of them are like, really talented.  But it was still
good fun."

"So did you dress up as a cat for it?"

"Yeah, we had proper face-paint and everything!  That was pretty cool.
Especially seeing some of the older guys in their costumes.  The outfits
were like, really tight, and you could pretty much see everything!"  He
grinned.

"And then didn't you do 'Oliver!' this year?" I asked, eager for him to
tell me more.

"Yeah.  I think I told you before that I was Charley Bates."  I nodded.
"So yeah, this year was even better.  I had seven lines to learn, plus some
solo lines in a couple of the songs."

"That's pretty impressive to get one of the main parts when you're only in
Year 8."

"I suppose," he said, obviously trying to be modest.  "But it wasn't that
big a part.  And all of the younger characters had to be played by kids in
year 7, 8 and 9 anyway."

"Yeah, but still."  I gave his shoulder a little squeeze, as if to show him
how proud I was of him.  "So do you know what they'll be doing next year?"

"No.  They've not announced it yet.  Though apparently it's gonna be
another fairly big show."

"Cool.  Well hopefully I'll be able to come and see you in it this time."

Dylan's face lit up.  "Yeah!  That's be awesome!"

I yawned.  "Well, I don't know about you," I said.  "But it's been a long
day.  I reckon it's time to head up to bed."

"Okay," he said, now yawning himself.  "But can we do some sex things
first?"

"Yeah, okay," I agreed.  "Though we can't stay up too late.  I've got to be
in work early in the morning."

"Okay," he said, before leaning over and giving me a kiss.  Then, quick as
you like, he hopped up off the sofa and dashed upstairs.

Rolling my eyes, I picked up our now empty glasses and the used wine bottle
and took them into the kitchen.  After rinsing out the bottle and putting
it in the recycling basket, I loaded the two glasses into the dishwasher,
put a tablet in, and switched it on.  Then, I made my way up to join Dylan
in our bedroom.


***


When I arrived up in the bedroom, Dylan was already on the bed, his naked
body splayed out in all its glory, his teenage dick hard as usual.

"You didn't waste any time, did you?" I chuckled.

"Well, you told me we couldn't take too long," he retorted.

"Touché!"

Quickly, I stripped myself, showing my own tool to be in the same state as
Dylan's.

"So what do you fancy doing?" I enquired.

"Can we play with the dildos again?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied, smiling to myself.  It appeared that I'd created a
monster!  Opening a drawer, I grabbed a tube of KY as well as the two
larger dildos.

"Right, legs up," I instructed.

Dylan leant forwards, grabbed his calves, and pulled his legs back towards
head.  As he did so a musky and rather unpleasant smell filled my nostrils.
I bent down to inspect his boy-hole.  The reason for the smell became
apparent.  He'd obviously not wiped himself properly after going to the
toilet earlier in the day.

"I'll be back in a moment," I told him.

I returned, less than a minute later, clutching a packet of baby wipes.  I
pulled a couple out of the pack and proceeded to give his bum-hole a
thorough cleaning.

"That's better," I informed him as I dried his hole off with a discarded
t-shirt.  "In future, make sure you clean yourself up properly after you've
been to the toilet.  The last thing your partner wants is a mouthful of
poo."

"Sorry," he replied, his cheeks having turned the colour of beetroot.

I spent the next few minutes feasting on his, now clean, arse.  The taste
was heavenly, a hint of muskiness remained, but the overriding flavour was
pure boy!

"Mmmmm.  Oh yeah!" Dylan purred beneath me.

Pulling away, I lubed up my fingers and began to loosen him up.  My fingers
were sliding in much easier than on our previous attempts, and it wasn't
long before I had the four 1/2 inch dildo up his chute.  He took it fairly
easily, groaning with pleasure as it slid inside him.

"Use the bigger one.  Please!" he urged.

Sliding the first tool out of him, I lubed up its larger cousin and placed
it at his backdoor.  Slowly, I applied a little pressure to it and the head
of the dildo started to penetrate his rear entrance.  Dylan gasped slightly
as it popped through his anal ring.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah.  Keep going," he instructed.

I continued to push the replica cock further inside of him.  He groaned
noisily as the next couple of inches slid in.

"How you doing, champ?" I queried.

"All right," he replied.  "It hurts a bit, but less than last time.  Just,
hold it there for a bit."

I nodded my head and continued to hold the dildo still for another thirty
seconds, making certain he was ok.  I guess this must have given him enough
time to adjust to the larger girth of this dildo, because he was soon
urging me to push it all the way in.

Slowly, I inched the toy farther inside of him, but at the same time I was
keeping an eye on his face, so I could monitor how he was doing.  This
time, the dildo seemed to slide in more easily.  Since he seemed to be
doing all right, I kept working it in until Dylan had taken it all.

"Ooohhh!  Wow!" he squealed.  I guess I'd grazed his prostate.  "That feels
so good.  Push it in and out now."

I did what he wanted and he was soon moaning loudly, his head whipping from
side to side.  I was pretty sure that if he hadn't still been holding his
legs up, then his hands would have been tugging at the duvet.  The louder
he groaned, the quicker I worked the tool, plunging it in and out of his
arse with gusto.

"Ahhhh!  Ahhhh!" he cried out.  "Ohhhh, I'm gonna..."

I looked down just in time to see Dylan's cock swell as he gave out a
strangled moan.  Without either of us having touched his erection, his
pee-hole opened and he shot his creamy load all over his belly and chest.

Amazed at what had just happened, I stopped moving the dildo and let him
calm down.  Once he recuperated and had caught his breath, Dylan looked up
at me, a huge, shit-eating grin on his face.

"That was fucking unbelievable!" he practically screamed as he lowered his
legs.  "Fucking hell.  That was unreal!  Why did I shoot?  No one touched
my dick.  You didn't and I didn't, so how did it happen?"

"Whoah!" I said, trying to settle him down and stop him firing questions at
me.  "I'm glad you enjoyed that.  You see, sometimes when your prostate
gets massaged, and that's what the dildo was doing, then that can be enough
to get you to ejaculate, so obviously that's what happened to you just
then."

Dylan smiled.  "Cool."  He paused for a second.  "Andy?"

"Yes Dylan," I replied.

"You know now I'm able to take this one fairly easily," he said, as he
pulled the silicon tool out.  "Does that mean you'll put this up me soon?"
As he asked this, he reached over and stroked my aching boner.

"All in good time," I reassured him.  Leaning down, I kissed him softly on
his lips.  "Now let's get you cleaned up and then you can take care of
this," I said, placing my hand over Dylan's and forcing him to give my cock
a couple more pumps.

"Okay," he sighed, doing little to hide the fact that he was somewhat
disappointed with my previous answer.

Picking up Dylan's discarded underwear, I first wiped both dildos clean,
putting them back in the drawer with the tube of lubricant.  I then
proceeded to rub Dylan's drying cum off his belly and chest.  Finally, I
gave the end of his once-again erect boy-rod a clean.

"So what are you gonna do about this?" I asked him jokily, as I waved my
hard prong at him.

"Come here, and you'll find out," he replied.  Reaching out, he took my
hand in his own, pulling me down towards the bed.  I readily let him,
gently allowing myself to fall on top of him, our hard-ons grinding
together as our lips met once more.

Eventually, Dylan pulled back slightly and broke the kiss.  Without further
ado, the thirteen-year-old shuffled across the bed and downwards, sucking
hungrily on the head of my rigid cock.

"Wait," I said. "Shift over."  I gestured to Dylan where he should position
himself.

Dylan moved so that he was kneeling either side of my shoulders.  My field
of view was now filled with Dylan's gloriously smooth crotch.  I lifted my
head up slightly, allowing me to reach his delightful cock.  I brushed my
lips against it, Dylan purring as I did so.

Dylan bent his head down to take my helmet inside his warm, velvety mouth
again.  After a few moments he stopped and pulled off.

"Is this a sixty-nine?" Dylan asked.

"Yep," I confirmed.  It suddenly occurred to me that despite the numerous
blow-jobs we had now traded over the past few weeks, this was the first
time we'd sucked each other at the same time.

"I thought so," said Dylan happily, before lowering his head once more to
his task.  He moved simply at first, applying gentle pressure with his lips
as he bobbed up and down on my rigid shaft.

"Bend down a bit," I said, struggling to properly reach the prize above my
head.

"Mmmhpmh," apologised Dylan through a mouthful of my dick.  He shifted his
knees, letting his rear end drop slightly.

"That's better," I tried to say, though my words too were slightly stifled
by the faceful of teen boy crotch I'd just been presented with.  Giving up
on trying to talk, I opened my mouth to let Dylan's teen prong in.

I swirled my tongue around, bathing Dylan's penis and enjoying its hard,
springy resistance.  Dylan's balls were pressed right up against my nose.
Breathing in their heady scent, I closed my eyes blissfully.

Settling into a rhythm, we both moved slowly and simultaneously.  The
sensation was simply incredible.  As I moved my lips down the hard boner in
my mouth, pulling gently at the skin, I felt Dylan's lips move in answer
down my own shaft.  It was difficult to work out where my body ended and
Dylan's began.  It was as if we were the same person.

With Dylan on top, I had to strain slightly upwards to take his dick all
the way into my mouth.  Instinctively, I reached my arms upwards and
embraced the boy's body, pulling it downward.  The length of Dylan's torso
pressed against my own.

Despite having shot my load three times earlier in the day, the
ministrations of Dylan's hot little mouth meant it wasn't taking long for
me to feel more than ready to release my latest build-up of spunk.

Unable to talk through my rigid mouthful of boy-cock, I had only one way to
communicate with Dylan.  Gently pulling my lover closer to me, I increased
the speed and pressure of my sucking motions.

Dylan responded immediately, sensing my need for release.  His head began
to move further and faster, retreating almost to the top of my seven-inch
dick, before taking it all back in with firm pressure.

The warm, wet embrace of Dylan's lips on my rock-hard helmet sent me
towards the cliff-face.  I could feel my body begin to stiffen.  Without
meaning to, I slowed my own attentions of Dylan almost to a stop as I felt
the paralyzing spark start to spread outward.  Dylan kept right on going,
only varying his speed in order to flick his tongue from time to time over
my semi-exposed cock head.

Devotedly, I tightened my arms around Dylan.  Even my mouth became
motionless.  My back arched slightly, lifting me from the bed and pressing
the weight of Dylan's teenage body on top of me.

"Mhhhn," I gasped, the noise stifled almost entirely by the taste of boy in
my mouth and nose.  My body convulsed, my arms instinctively tugging at the
boy on top of me as my boner began to release its pent-up energy.

Several small spurts of semen shot out into Dylan's waiting mouth.  My
lover stopped moving and started swallowing.

His task complete, Dylan rolled over and lay flat on his back next to me
with his arms behind his head.

As Dylan moved, I felt his still-rigid teenage cock slip out from my lips.
I watched it point straight upwards where he lay.  Immediately, I rolled
over on top of the younger boy, chasing my prize.  Now we were in the same
sixty-nine position as before, only upside-down.  In this orientation it
was much easier to move my head.  I dived with relish onto the teen-boy
shaft.

"That feels so good," Dylan whispered.

Not wanting to let the boy out of my mouth even for a moment, I responded
by finding Dylan's hand and taking it in my own as I longingly and
devotedly continued to suck his teen-rod.

"It feels really good," marvelled Dylan, as I put everything I had into
caressing the stiff boy-tool.  "I... I..."  He tried to form a sentence,
but as he spoke his frame began to tense.  The words were cut off by a
sharp intake of breath.  I never found out what my teenage stud was going
to say next.

"Ahhhhhhhhh," Dylan breathed heavily, his little hips bucking gently in my
mouth.

I still had Dylan's hand in my own, and I felt his teen orgasm travel like
a shockwave through my fingers.  I squeezed back in response as my mouth
filled with Dylan's creamy boy-spunk.  I swallowed it lazily, savouring the
taste as I rolled off Dylan so that we were laid side by side.

"Wow, that was amazing!" Dylan said, after taking a few moments to recover.

"Yeah, it was," I agreed.  "Now let's get some sleep."

Soon, we had both snuggled under the duvet, Dylan's naked back nestled
against my chest.

"Andy?" Dylan said, turning his head round.  "You didn't shoot much.  Is
everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about.  Probably just because you
gave me a BJ this morning, and then I had a wank at lunchtime."  I hoped
that would put his mind at ease.  Obviously, I felt guilty for lying to him
about the real reason, but at this stage I still felt it was best to keep
Lars a secret.


***

End of chapter 19.
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated - andybrown2000@outlook.com
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