Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 18:04:42 +0000
From: pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk
Subject: 'A Warm April Saturday' Chapter 12
'All the usual disclaimers apply; if the law where you are prohibits you
from reading material like this, then I guess you'd better not, but if
you do, don't blame either me or Nifty if you read it and get caught,
okay? And if you don't like reading about sexual interactions involving
underage boys and adult men, you probably ought to leave this page right
now.
We now move into the next phase of the story; Chris starts at his new
school with all the challenges and opportunities that brings. How will he
deal with that? Will he meet any other gay boys? What will happen if he
does? Feedback is always welcome and I always reply to it. Send your
comments to pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk and I'll reply as soon as I can.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The past week has been as busy as I thought it would be, getting
everything ready for the new school term. I'm glad in a way; it's
kept me occupied, stopped me thinking about sex all the time. I'd
have loved to tell the other boys what an awesome time I had in
Spain, but that has to stay as my little secret. I've got back into
my twice weekly get-togethers with James. He's been brilliant, same
as always, really building my confidence. Without him, I'd be far
more nervous about starting high school than I actually am. I did get
to mess about with Michael last Tuesday, his idea, of course. It was
okay, a bit tame after all the stuff I'd been getting up to while I
was away, but nice all the same. Michael's been my best mate for so
long, I love to do stuff with him, even if it is only a bit of
messing about. The next day it was almost like he was avoiding me. I
almost wished we hadn't done it, you know, `cause it screws his head
up so much. Well, the day after he was fine, so that was okay; we
haven't done it again though.
It's Tuesday morning and we're finally here, just over two hundred of
us, sitting in Lower School Hall at Falconhurst High School, all in
our new school uniform. Even Tom looks smart for once. We're
listening to Mr. Birkett, head of year seven, welcoming us from the
school. There are nine of us here from Deans Park Primary; me,
Michael, Tom, Gareth and five others. The rest of the boys we were at
junior school with have gone to all sorts of different high schools.
A few of the poor kids are going to Broadstone. That's up near the
town centre and it's a dump. Mum says it's the school that gets all
the kids nobody else wants. I'm glad I don't have to go there. We
already know which tutor groups we'll be in; we found that out when
we came on our induction day at the end of last term. I'll be in the
same group as Michael; Tom and Gareth will be in another one; the
other five have been split three and two into two different groups.
We met our form tutors that day too. Mine's Mr. Sheridan; he's
standing over by the wall right now. He seemed okay; I've had women
teachers all through primary school, so having mainly men teachers
will be pretty different.
We split into our tutor groups. Mr Sheridan welcomes us too, tells us
a bit more about what's going to be happening and that. He smiles a
lot and has a twinkle in his eye. He explains things pretty well; I
think I'm going to like him. Being in the same tutor group as Michael
isn't going to mean a lot; we'll be together for our tutor group
periods at the beginning and end of each day and we'll have gym and
games classes together. Apart from that, we probably won't be
together at all.
I look around the room at my new classmates. Two black kids, three
Asian kids, one I sort of don't know what he is; all the rest of us
are white. The two black kids are, like, totally different. Andrew
Redfern's a fraction taller than me, and even under his school
uniform you can tell he's got a really nice body. I say black; he's
actually quite light-skinned, like Tiger Woods; he doesn't have his
hair as short as Tiger does though. He's a fit-looking kid. The other
one, Dalton Smith, is small, about Gareth's size, very dark, hair in
cornrows and spends most of his time scowling. When we have to write
something down, Mr. Sheridan has to help him. Hmmm! I've got a bad
feeling about him. It shouldn't be a problem; I'll just stay out of
his way. The other kid that catches my eye is Daryl Cartwright. He's
a bit smaller than me and definitely cute, with fair hair brushed
back off his face; I know James would like him. There's something odd
about him though; I just can't say what it is.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
For the next few days, at the start of each period we have to go back
to lower school hall to be split into groups for each of our classes.
Things soon begin to sort themselves out; I'm in the top group for
all my classes, just like Mrs. Wilkinson said. Tom is too. That's
awesome; it means there's somebody I know in every class I'm in. I
often used to sit with Tom in junior school, so it'll be just the
same here. The top group doesn't have exactly the same kids in it for
every class, but there are about twenty of us who are in the top
group all the time. One thing I find out pretty quick is that eight
of those twenty came from St. Bartholomew's; including Andrew and
Daryl. St. Bart's is the Church of England primary school and it's in
a really posh area; all the kids' parents are doctors and solicitors
and stuff. Apart from Daryl, they all seem okay. Daryl's a pain in
the arse. He talks really posh, creeps round all the teachers and
when he does get a chance to say anything all he does is talk about
himself, like he's someone special; I don't like kids like that.
That's not what's odd about him though; I still haven't sussed out
what that is.
Another kid who attracts my attention is Liam McKeefry. As he's about
5'6" it'd be pretty hard to miss him. Blue eyes, short fair hair and
a really nice body; he is well fit. Seems like he's pretty much on
his own; he went to St. Peter and Paul, the Catholic school, all his
mates have gone to St. Francis Xavier, but he only lives round the
corner and his mum and dad wanted him to come here. I guess they
think this is a better school; I know it gets better exam results. He
seems friendly enough, but he's very quiet, even quieter than Tom, if
that's possible.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Wednesday morning after break; it's our first gym class. It's the
first time me and Michael have had a class together. We all get
changed into our gym kit, black gym shorts, white tops, white ankle
socks and trainers, then troop into the gym. Mr. Maynard does a roll
call. There's a senior boy there too, standing over by the wall-bars;
looks about eighteen and definitely fit. I don't know what that's
about. Mr. Maynard gives us a safety briefing; you can tell he's not
a teacher that he kids can mess about with.
"Okay," he says finally. "Make your way out onto the field. You're
going to do a lap of the cross-country course. It's all marked out
and Craig's going to lead you round, so there's no excuse for anyone
getting lost."
We make our way outside. We line up with Craig twenty yards ahead of
us. Turns out he left in the summer; he'll be off to uni in a few
weeks time, he wants to be a games teacher. He's just come in to help
out for a couple of weeks. Mr. Maynard blows the whistle; we're off
and running. Some of the kids sprint off like lunatics. I just start
off steady; we never did cross-country at primary school, a mile and
a half sounds like a long way. Odd though, by the time we've reached
the far corner of the playing field I'm right up with the leaders; I
hadn't really expected that. We go through the gate and follow Craig
along the track through Falcon's Wood. Pretty soon there are just
three of us left at the front, me, Alwyn Davies and Andrew; seems
like Andrew's good at everything. Michael's dropped way behind.
I'm still running quite easily, but I've no idea how far we've got to
go, so I just stay with the other two. We get to the end of the
track. Craig's waiting by the gate.
"Well done boys!" he calls. "Three hundred yards left!"
We turn back onto the field; we can see Mr.Maynard waiting in the
distance. Alwyn picks up the pace; I go with him. We drop Andrew
immediately. Hmmm! So he's good but not that good! Just over a
hundred yards left. Shit! I might actually win this! I make a sprint
for the line. Alwyn tries to respond but I'm quicker than he is. I
win by three seconds
"Nine minutes, thirty two seconds!" Mr Maynard tells me. "Not bad for
a first attempt; you'll run faster than that."
I know it makes me sound like I'm a bit up myself, but it wasn't
really that hard. I definitely could have run faster. I shake hands
with Alwyn and Andrew; we sit on the grass and watch the rest of the
kids come in. Michael's about halfway down the field, just over a
minute behind me. Finally, the weaker kids struggle back; Daryl,
Dalton and two really fat kids. Craig trots across from the gate.
It's time to go and get changed.
"Is there a cross-country team here?" I ask him.
"Used to be," he says, smiling at me. "Teacher who ran it left three
years ago. It was just about finished anyway; none of the other
schools round here do it so there was no-one to race against."
"Oh," I say, feeling disappointed. It's the one sport I might have
done some good at they don't have a team.
"You'll have to wait till the summer," Craig tells me. "You should do
okay on the track, fifteen hundred and that. That was a nice finish
you put in there."
Back in the changing room we towel off and get dressed. In case
you're wondering, we don't have to have showers the way kids used to.
We can if we want, but the only time we have to have a shower is if
we've got ourselves all muddy. I wouldn't mind having one, but nobody
else is going to and I don't want to stand out. I just rub myself
down and get changed the same as everyone else.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Turns our Mr. Sheridan isn't just my form tutor; I'll be having him
for maths as well.
"Did you do cross-country in your gym class?" I ask Tom as Mr.
Sheridan leads us to his classroom.
"Yeah, I won it," he says quietly.
"Me too! What time did you get?"
"Nine minutes eighteen."
"Nine thirty two. How much did you win by?"
"Dunno; next kid was about twenty seconds behind, I think."
Right! So I will have to run faster! I guess it's not really a
surprise that we're both good at it; we can run, like, forever when
we're out playing; Michael and Gareth can't. Shame that we don't have
a team though.
Turns out Mr. Sheridan is an awesome teacher; right away I know I'm
going to do really well in this class. He knows how to make it fun
too; this is one of the classes I'm really going to look forward to.
As an added bonus there's a totally fit mixed-race kid in the class;
his name's Jerome Williams. He's not been in any of my other classes
but he sure will brighten this one up!
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Twenty past four, I'm sitting on the sofa snuggled up to James; he
wants to know how my first two days at Falconhurst have gone. I tell
him all about it.
"So you're going to be a runner, then?" he asks, gently stroking my
hair.
"Dunno; they don't have a team at school. Tom did well too."
"Have I met Tom."
"Don't think so; he lives the other side of Deans Park."
"So what's he like?"
I describe him, right down to how small his privates are.
"Sounds cute!" James comments. "So what would my favourite boy like
now?"
"I want sex with you, of course!" I say, grinning up at him.
He follows me upstairs and waits at the bedroom door while I close
the curtains. I peel off my school uniform until I'm down to my white
briefs. I know they're James's favourite so I always try to wear them
when he's going to be here. He's down to his boxers; he sits on the
bed and skins my underpants down my legs. I wiggle a bit so they fall
to the floor and kick them off. He takes the whole of my cock into
his mouth, sucking it expertly as always. I rest one hand on his
head, stroking his short blond hair. A hand slips between my legs, a
well-lubed finger pushing into my bum. I love this! He touches my
prostate; my cock twitches wildly, hitting the roof of his mouth. Oh
yeah! He can do this as much as he wants. A second finger slides in
behind the first, the two fingers gently twisting around and opening
me up.
The fingers slide out. He lets me go, his tongue sliding right along
my shaft as he releases me. He looks up, smiling warmly.
"Your cock's coming on really well," he says quietly. "It won't be
long now! Are you ready then?"
I nod and smile back; I'm ready all right. He puts a pillow onto the
bedside cabinet. I bend down over it, feet about shoulder-width
apart. He moves in behind me, his cock probing at my bum-hole. I
relax and let him enter me. He holds me round the tops of my legs,
steadily pulling me onto him. In just a few seconds I'm completely
impaled on his cock. He starts to move, fucking me long and hard,
gradually building it up until he's fucking me stupid. Fuck! I don't
think I'll ever be able to get enough of his big cock pounding my
arse! He reaches down, his fingers fondling my dick; it just can't
get any better than this!
I'm getting very close; my cock's tingling like crazy. Everything
goes blurred. My legs shake; I buck violently, my bum clamping hard
round his cock. Behind me, James is holding me firm, keeping me in
position. My cock swells and jumps between his fingers, the feelings
as intense as they've ever been. Still nothing comes out; it might
happen soon, but not this time. James is very close too.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!!" he groans. "Oooooohhhhh!!!"
His cock jerks powerfully deep inside me, four maybe even five times,
wad after wad of his creamy man-spunk flooding into my bum. We hold
still for a few seconds the he slowly pulls out. That was awesome! As
James climbs back into his clothes I head for the bathroom. It's
clean-up time.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
I soon find out what the odd thing is with Daryl when the name-
calling starts. He's gay, or at least that's what the other kids
think. He's not like any of the kids I've done stuff with though.
It's not that he totally sucks at games and gym, not that he whines
all the time about having to do them, not even that he creeps to the
teachers the way he does. It's the little ways he has of doing things
that make him look like a girl. That was what I noticed but couldn't
really say what it was; I guess I've never met a kid like him before,
seems like some of the other boys have though.
The name calling's not that bad, I guess. The discipline's pretty
strict here, so it wouldn't happen in class. He's in top groups all
the time anyway. All the kids there are pretty decent; they just
leave him alone. It doesn't happen in tutor-group either; Mr.
Sheridan wouldn't stand for it. Most of the rest of the time he hangs
out with a couple of little posh friends. For readers of `Denis the
Menace' think Walter and the softies. They don't seem to notice how
girly he is. It's when he has to go across the playground or down the
corridor, from one class to another; that's when it happens. Well, it
might not be that bad but I'd hate it if it was happening to me.
I wonder if he's actually done anything. My gut feeling tells me he
hasn't. I can't see him having done anything with the nice little
boys he hangs out with. Mind you, after meeting Danny and Quentin, I
could be totally wrong about that; they might be fucking like rabbits
for all I know. I don't think so though; it doesn't seem to fit.
I was right about Dalton Smith. He's in the bottom groups for every
class and is completely useless at everything. He's the kid that the
phrase `waste of space' was invented for. Despite all that, and him
being so small, he's got a really aggressive manner and he's been in
trouble already. Outside class, he hangs out with two other black
kids. One's small like him, but the other one's big; not as tall as
Liam, maybe around 5'4", but he's built like a tank, he must weigh at
least a hundred and forty pounds. At break and lunchtime they swagger
round the playground together like they own the place, talking
Jamaican. That seems stupid to me; Dalton doesn't talk like that any
other time, I'd guess the other two don't either. They call
themselves `The Yardie Boys'; the yardies are sort of Jamaican
gangsters. Well, whatever.
It's no surprise that they're about the worst of the name-callers;
I've heard them shout at Daryl a few times. They call him `batty-
boy'; that's Jamaican slang, seems it's a real insult, like calling
someone a queer or a poof. I guess I should say something to Mr.
Sheridan about it, but it's not my fight; I really don't want to get
involved. In any case it doesn't sound like anyone else has said
anything.
I've not come across the big kid before, but several of the other
boys know who he is. His name's Courtney Fredericks and he's trouble.
Seems that all three of them live on Anscombe Leys; that's a big
public housing estate a bit over a mile from here, it's rough as
fuck. A lot of kids from there go to Broadstone, but some go to other
schools, including a few that come here. Not everyone that lives
there is like them, of course; that's where Alwyn lives and he's a
great kid. Anyway, as far as the Yardie Boys are concerned I'm going
to take the sensible option; keep my head down and stay out of their
way.