Date: Wed, 05 May 1999 07:33:15 GMT
From: Jim Daniels <danielsjim@hotmail.com>
Subject: Simon's Seduction - Part 7 (Gay Male, High School)

______________________________________________________________________

This is the seventh part of a story about adolescent boys' sexual
experimentation in an Australian boarding school. To get the most from it
the reader should read Parts 1-6 first.

                              SYNOPSIS

The story so far concerns the first love of a sexually experienced 14 y.o.
boy, Huw, for a beautiful and talented 13 y.o. new boy, Simon who, unknown
to Huw, is also experienced, having had regular sex with his friend Jamie
since they were in the junior school, and with Rabbit, a sexual predator,
with whom he has a love-hate relationship, as well as being interfered with
by a junior school master. The young and talented Assistant Housemaster,
Donald Swan (The Duck) haunted by his infatuation with teenage boys, who has
already seduced one boy, Johno, has also noticed Simon. Huw has had his
first tantalising physical encounter with Simon on the bus coming home from
a cricket match. This has aroused the jealousy of others, and Donald Swan
has asked a prefect, Lindsay, who also violated Johno as a youngster, to
give Huw a friendly warning. Swan himself has become increasingly infatuated
with Simon, but is trying to resist temptation. Huw is confused and worried
but suggests to Simon that they cool their relationship. Simon continues his
activities in the junior dormitory; Huw and Johno get together. Simon then
gets entangled with Swan, or vice versa, first innocently, the for real in
Swan's study. Johno barges in on them and agonizes over who to tell.
Got it?

Now read on - unless you are under age, or prohibited by the law of your
country from reading such material. And don't take it too seriously,
especially the unsafe sex, as it is fiction which is set some years back,
and hopefully bears no relationship to actual persons.

If you would like to provide feedback, on this, the author's first work of
fiction it would be welcome.


                     Simon's Seduction - Part 7


Simon lay on the sofa in Mr Swan's study in a daze, the warm stickiness of
the sperm the thirteen year old boy had just ejaculated congealing in his
underpants. That of the Assistant House Master was growing cold and
resolving slowly into a clear viscous mass on his hand and face. Donald Swan
stood there like a frozen statue, all libido drained from him by the awful
realisation that he had been caught, in flagrante delicto by his other boy
lover in the boarding house, Johno.

The usual warm afterglow of sex had given way to the cold reality of his
situation. His infatuation with handsome teenagers, and lack of control over
his sexuality, had placed his career as a schoolmaster in jeopardy. True he
had resisted Simon's intentions when it was clear that the boy had
determined to take their intimacy beyond the bounds of a normal master-pupil
relationship. He had, he told himself, tried to explain to Simon the
incident where he had embraced him, and orgasmed, when trying to comfort him
in the school corridor, and how boys found love through their developing
sexuality. But this seemed to have only spurred Simon on, and in any event
who would ever believe him that this beautiful boy had seduced him, in his
own study!

He turned to Simon.

"Simon, you had better clean up and get back to study. I'm sorry for what
happened. I should never have allowed it. I love you Simon and I don't want
you to get hurt. I shall speak to Johno, and explain as best I can. He is a
good boy, and I'm sure he won't let on what he saw; at least I hope so. We
shall need to talk more about this when we have both had a chance to reflect
on what you did," Swan said, subtly shifting the onus onto Simon.

Simon cast his eyes down, confused and upset, but warmed by the knowledge
that this man, that he admired so much, loved him.

"I'm …I'm….I'm….sorry, Sir. It was my fault. You didn't want it to happen.
You said so. I just, sort of, got carried away by what you had said to me
about love."

He hesitated.

"I've done this sort of thing with some of the other boys," he confessed,
eyes still downcast.

Swan noticed his spunk still glistening on Simon's cheek.

"That's alright, Simon, we've all done that. But you must clean up. Here's
my handkerchief. Wipe your face and hands. You had better wash too. We can
talk about it later," Swan replied evenly, his heart racing at the thought
of Simon sharing his adolescent sexual adventures with him.

Simon did as he was told, and idly put the handkerchief in his pocket. He
turned and gazed into Mr Swan's face.

Suddenly he flung his arms around Swan's waist and cried: "I love you too."

"You must go now, Simon," Swan said gently, easing the boy away, and opening
the study door.

Simon turned and looked once more into Swan's eyes before heading down the
passage to the study room.

Swan turned back to his desk. The responsible schoolmaster in him was
appalled at what had just happened. At a deeper level in his psyche Swan's
lust remained unquenched. His knowledge of Simon's naked body remained
confined to glimpses in the shower. He wanted to run his hands over his
smooth, naked skin; to feel those exquisite nipples; kiss that beautiful
mouth, with their tongues meeting in a passionate embrace; see Simon's
perfectly proportioned cock thicken, grow and stand, the head emerge from
the foreskin as it slid back; taste the musk of an adolescent boys crotch,
the drop of precum milked from the head. It had been satisfying to penetrate
the defences of this adolescent boy and witness the emergence of his latent
sexuality, but there was more territory to conquer. The image of Simon's
smooth round arse that he had seen in the showers floated through his head.

Fantasies of their next encounter slowly replaced the image of Simon's bum.
He would place his massive cock between Simon's silky legs, as his lips
gently kissed those unshaven cheeks, he ran his tongue across Simon's
eyelids, down the perfectly formed nose, to meet his lips and embrace his
sweet young tongue. He would shove his engorged penis back and forth,
Simon's thighs lubricated by the precum flowing from it. He would feel
Simon's legs tighten around him, and he would whisper in Simon's ear that
this was how a man fucked a woman, a fact that he knew only from books.

He would work his tongue down Simon's neck, to his nipples and gently suck
them one by one, as his fucking became more urgent. He would feel Simon's
erection pressing against his belly; five inches of boy-flesh, ready to
lubricate their writhing bodies with his boy-spunk. He felt his body tense
again as he thought of the moment when, overcome with lust, he would
disgorge spurt after spurt of spunk against the smooth crack of Simon's arse
as an overwhelming orgasm wracked his body and Simon's at the same time.

Then reality interrupted his reverie: "What would he say to Johno? What if
he blabbed." Just as well it had been Johno, he would understand. Besides no
other boy would have taken the liberty of walking in uninvited: only Johno
because he had been welcomed into that same room many times since their
first encounter at the scout camp.

At least once a week Swan would find Johno on his doorstep, trousers
bulging, waiting for Swan's mouth to envelop his adolescent cock once more
in his warm mouth, and fondle his soft balls in his large hand. Johno was,
too, fascinated by the manly dimensions of Swan's cock, would admire the
well-shaped head and curving shaft as he ran his small hand up and down its
length and watch fascinated as spurt after spurt of spunk curved up in great
arcs and then diminished to a dribble over his hands as Johno bought the
master to a shaking climax.

Johno's needs were purely physical, animal, the urgent need of a teenage boy
to empty his swelling balls. Swan sensed that the relationship with Simon
would be different. Simon was his intellectual equal, and clearly had
emotional needs that had driven him into Swan's arms that night. Besides
Johno was growing up. He no longer had the sweet bloom of the pubescent boy,
but was rapidly turning into another just good looking youth who did not
arouse Swan's lust in the same way.

Oh, God, what had he done, Swan thought? Another boy! How could he survive
the mess that his lust, now seemingly out of control, had created? He may as
well have fucked this boy at midday in the middle of the main sports oval,
he thought, for all the chance he had, in this place, of keeping secret what
had happened. On the optimistic side, it was one thing for the news to
spread among the boys, and the rumours among the masters, so long as they
did not breach the high threshold of tolerance which surrounded such
activity, but quite another for it to reach the ears of the Headmaster
officially. Simon, and Johno, he calculated would be complicit in his deed.
After all he had not raped the boy: he hadn't even fucked him - yet.

And so his mind ran on constructing his defences against the day or
reckoning, if and when it came. At the same time, as he lay in his bed that
night, the eight inches of cock that had led him into this situation, firmly
in hand, responding to his stroking, Donald Swan thought back over his time
in the boarding house, and thoughts which had stimulated his masturbatory
fantasies since those days floated once more through his mind.

He remembered how, in his final year, as a prefect, he had had a bet with
George, with whom he shared a study, on who would first seduce Hudson, the
best looking new boy in the junior dorm that year. He had been jealous, but
stirred, when George had described in lurid detail, breathless and flushed
with excitement, how he had lured Hudson into the guest room, pulled down
the trousers of the 13 year old, taken his immature cock in his mouth and
sucked him to a climax, as George, his cock out, masturbating wildly, had
shot his load all over the polished floor. Young Donald had had a raging
erection by the time George finished recounting the details of Hudson's
response.

Donald remembered how he had run his hand up the leg of George's shorts.
George had had a long thin, uncut cock which Donald had only got to know
when they shared a study, despite having been in the same dorm throughout
their time in the boarding house. In those years he had resisted the
temptations that the other boys had succumbed to, realising, Donald had
concluded, that his religious upbringing had made him terrified of his
sexuality. Donald had gained George's confidence when they became
study-mates by revealing his own fantasies and conquests, and finally
getting a response one night by pulling out his cock and openly masturbating
as he had told George how many boys he had fucked in the four years he had
spent in the boarding house.

George had unburdened himself about his own fantasies, and Donald seeing the
bulge in his pants, had lent over, felt it, slowly unbuttoned George's fly
and brought out the bright red cock-head, foreskin drawn right back,
glistening with precum. Excited at finally taking a boy whose virginity had
lasted until he was 17 in that homosexual hothouse, Donald's cock had
erupted, the first jet of his spunk forming an arc that fell on George's
cock which spilt the contents of his balls simultaneously over Donald's
hand. They had finished in a warm embrace, cocks out of flies, cum all over
each other's hands, George humiliated with shame at what he had done as his
orgasm faded. But the threshold had been crossed and he and Swan thereafter
had sex almost every night in their study.

The next day Donald, assuming the role of the responsible prefect, had
called Hudson to his study to talk about his seduction. Hudson had shyly
made it clear that he knew all about his wager with George. Donald had been
perplexed - lecturing this boy was no longer an option. He had leant over
and kissed him gently on the forehead. Hudson had looked up at him with his
big, round brown eyes, and pressed himself against Donald Swan's
seventeen-year-old body, already that of a man. Donald had run his hand over
Hudson's smooth cheeks, and down inside the open collar of his shirt to feel
his smooth chest and nipples. His hand had wandered even further down the
small boy's body to the waist of the shorts he was wearing. As it snaked
down to Hudson's groin Donald had felt only smooth flesh before he reached
the object of his desire, the small bud of a circumcised penis that the
pre-adolescent boy possessed. He had run his finger around the head and felt
it swell slightly and stiffen. He knew the boy would be his.

The next thing he knew he was leading Hudson by the hand to the guest room,
Swan dribbling precum into his boxers at the thought of seducing this
handsome lad. As soon as they were in the room, with the door locked, Donald
had taken the thin rod, stretched to its full three inches, in his mouth
and, feeling his smooth, round balls with is left hand, sucked on it like a
baby at its mother's breast. He remembered Hudson's sighs as his mouth
worked the young cock to a climax, and the spasms as the boy's wet little
penis had its dry orgasm. Hudson gasped at the sight as Donald tore open his
fly and pulled out his raging eight-inch cock, the head slimy with precum

Hudson had dropped to his knees and had taken the head of his raging
erection in his mouth. The young Donald could hardly believe what was
happening as a spunk surged the length of his prick and filled the mouth of
the boy at his feet. He remembered how he had sagged at the knees and
collapsed on the floor, so intense was his orgasm. He had looked up at
Hudson, who still had his cock, stretched to its full three inches poking
out of his trousers, masturbating it furiously until his body shook with a
second dry orgasm, Donald's spunk dribbling out the corners of his mouth and
down the hairless chin of the young boy.

The relationship had lasted for the rest of the year, Donald having the
pleasure of seeing Hudson mature into a regular teenager during the year,
his cock expanding to a full five inches, his balls dropping and growing
into small olives and, after a few months, producing a steady flow of sperm
which Swan delighted in swallowing whenever Hudson gave him the opportunity.
Finally, after he had slobbered all over Hudson's cock one day in the
luggage room of the boarding house, Donald had persuaded young Hudson to
fuck him.

Swan's memory dwelt on the face of the maturing thirteen year old as he
recalled Hudson slowly sliding his wet cock into Donald's waiting arse, as
he lay on a pile of old blankets stored there, legs in the air. Donald had
felt the intense moment of pain as the small penis entered him, replaced in
a moment by the warm satisfaction of the living thing inside him. Hudson had
confessed to Donald that he had played around before like this, but only in
the junior school, before he could come. He had never fucked a real man till
then. Donald had experienced the satisfaction of the older boy initiating
the younger into the darker corners of male sex.

As he had watched his cock disappear into the older boy, Hudson had lunged
forward to kiss Donald on the lips, his belly brushing against Donald's hard
penis. It had erupted at the same moment as Hudson had released his
boy-sperm deep inside Hudson's body, his face contorted with pleasure, and
love for the older boy who had led him to such pleasures. Hudson had
collapsed on Donald's chest covered with the spunk, which had shot from him,
as he felt the warm wetness of Hudson's sperm suffusing his bowels. Donald
had grasped the soft, smooth cheeks of Hudson's arse as he lay on him, and
determined to return the favour that he had just received.

And so he did, it being the first time, notwithstanding the many boy cocks
that he later admitted to Donald had fucked him in the junior school, that
Hudson had taken a man's cock and sperm inside him. He had protested at
first that he could not take Donald's great machine, but Donald had taken
him so gently that Hudson felt only the satisfaction his body possessed by a
man as Donald eased the full length of his eight inches into him and
delivered his stalwart injection deep in what seemed to be the centre of
gravity of his small body, the warmth of the spunk diffusing slowly through
his entire body. He was only thirteen and that experience defined his
sexuality for the rest of his life.

The memories of the youngest seduction he had made while at school had
reminded Swan of the vulnerability of boys in their early teens to the
hormones coursing through their bodies. His powerful intellect, coupled with
his experiences as a boy, had given him deep insights into adolescent
sexuality. It had encouraged him in pursuit of his lust, once he had emerged
from the state of denial, in the first couple of years at university, that
saw him trying desperately to date girls and sublimate his sexuality into
his sporting and academic achievements. But night after night, as he had
relieved the tensions of the day, the thoughts that threaded through his
mind were not the faces of the girls he took out but the memories of his
boyhood experiences, many centring on Hudson, until, in the end, he had come
to terms with his sexuality.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
As Swan thought about his past and what the future held for him, Simon
walked down the corridor to the bathroom and cleaned up. He arrived in the
study room, still feeling the clammy damp of his underpants against his
belly, his face red from the tears he had shed. He reported to Lindsay, the
prefect on duty.

"I've been with Mr Swan," he explained.

"O.K, if you need to have an extra half hour of study time I will fix it.
I'm the Junior Dorm prefect this week," Lindsay added helpfully, wondering
why Simon looked so distressed.

"Are you O.K Simon?" he asked.

Simon sat next to him, in the only free place, and opened his books. "Yes,
I'm alright," he whispered, "got into trouble in English today."

Lindsay watched this pretty boy as he pored over his books and began
writing. Suddenly Simon sneezed, and his hand went involuntarily to his
pocket to retrieve a handkerchief. As he wiped his face, Lindsay noticed the
initials "D.S" embroidered in one corner at the same time as the
unmistakable smell of sperm, like wet wattle blossom, wafted across. He
looked more closely and saw the damp spots on the white linen. Jesus, he
thought, what has this boy been up to? What has Swan been up to?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Johno had been aroused by what he had seen when he barged into Swan's study.
But he had also been disturbed. He was no longer The Duck's special boy. It
dawned on him that, as he had grown into his mid-teen and his body matured,
he was becoming less attractive to those who had pursued him as a youngster.
But, he told himself, his main concern was for Simon. Or was it? Here was a
competitor for the affection of the man who had taught him so much about
enjoying his sexuality, assuaging his guilt. But, above all, he did not want
to see Simon hurt, physically or emotionally. What would be his fate when he
too shed his boyhood? Would The Duck try to fuck him as he had Johno? Would
Simon be able to resist?

Johno was still somewhat traumatised by the memory of the first time he had
been fucked, or more accurately, raped, by Lindsay in the luggage room. But
having had that experience, and being a year older than Simon when The Duck
had seduced him, Johno had been able to resist. Johno knew Swan's cock. He
imagined how it could devastate a young boy like Simon, especially if he
were a virgin. What should he do?

As he lay fingering his cock in bed that night, his concerns outweighed his
youthful libido. He could not stop his thoughts dwelling on what he had
witnessed. He had to talk with someone. Johno had never told another soul
about these clandestine meetings with Swan, observing the unwritten code of
honour, which bound the sexual congress of the boys in the school: one never
mentioned the name of another with whom one had sex. Little did Johno know
that the code had been breached in his case when Lindsay, had told Huw how
he had fucked him in the luggage room, and gotten into so much trouble. Had
he known it may have made his conscience easier when he determined to
confide in Huw what he had seen in Swan's study that night, realising that
he would have to confess his own relationship with Swan in so doing. He
simply had to do something, tell someone.

He knew that Huw was in love with Simon. He should know what was going on,
Johno told himself. Huw had made friends with Simon. Perhaps more; Johno was
not sure. In any case Huw was best placed to warn Simon of the dangers he
faced, get him away from The Duck. The weekend was coming up and he would
find an opportunity to take Huw into his confidence. Drained by the emotions
stirred in him by what he had witnessed, and the thought of getting together
with Huw over the weekend, Johno forewent his nightly wank.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Saturday was a perfect autumn day.

"Hey, Huw," Johno called over breakfast, "like to take a ride to the Rock
today."

It was the end of the season and there was no cricket that weekend, as the
Easter break loomed and the school turned it attention to the coming
football season. The Rock, or more accurately Hanging Rock, was a favourite
outing for the boys of the boarding house. It was at the bottom of a deep
ravine carved out of the flat country around the school, hanging over a deep
pool of clear water, surrounded by dense remnant rainforest formed by the
microclimate of the gorge. It was cool in summer and sheltered from the cold
winds that surged across the plain in winter. It was about five miles from
the school, an hour's ride, followed by a half-hour walk through the bush.

"Great," replied Huw. "We'll have to get an ex-per," the boys' term for the
excursion permit required to be away from the school. "But that won't be a
problem, as there's no sport. Let's grab some bread and stuff from the
kitchen, and head off on our bikes straight after breakfast."

The filtered sunlight of late summer dappled the gorge as the boys flung
their packs on the massive rock overhanging the pool. They were hot from the
ride and hike through the bush.

"Let's go for a swim," Johno urged, starting to undress.
He and Huw were soon standing naked, their adolescent bodies glistening with
sweat in the bright sunlight. Huw glanced at Johno's regular cock, nestled
in a bush of fair hair. His balls were tight from the exertion of the walk,
and his penis lay on top sticking out almost horizontally. As Huw drew his
boxers down his legs he suffered his usual embarrassment at displaying his
small flaccid tool. He tried to will it into a semi-erection, but it did not
respond. He ran to the end of the rock and jumped into the dark waters of
the deep pool below, followed by Johno. The water felt cool and delicious as
their bodies met for an instant. Huw felt the electricity from Johno's firm,
athletic body, and, despite the cold water, felt his penis engorge slightly.
They horsed around for a few minutes until they had cooled off, then hauled
their naked bodies onto the rocks beside the pool.

The boys climbed the slope behind the hanging rock and emerged at the top.
They flung their towels down on the warm rock and lay on their bellies in
the sun. Huw admired Johno's taught body as the rays off the sun, filtered
through the foliage overhead, played on his firm round bum, highlighting the
downy covering of hair, which was as fair as that hanging over Johno's face.
Why, Huw wondered to himself, has it taken so long for me to get close to
Johno, and found no answer.

Johno glanced sideways at Huw. They had always been good enough friends, but
there had been no intimacy in their relationship. Although in many ways they
were alike, Johno was nine months older and that made a difference at that
age. Johno had always liked older boys, and now men. He had thought of Huw
as a good all-rounder, not as athletic as he was, but a trier, and equally
bright. He had seen boys at Huw's bed and knew he had a bit of a reputation,
but despite being neighbours in the junior dorm, they had never got together
until this term, when Johno had sensed the depth of Huw's sexual drive from
his obvious pursuit of Simon. He felt an odd sort of bond being forged
between them, as he himself had been pursued by older boys when in junior
dorm. And Johno's growing physical needs, as his youthful body ripened into
that of a man, and older boys and men took less interest in him,
increasingly drove him to find new partners, irrespective of age.
He reached over and stroked Huw's smooth back. He felt his cock, pressed
against the rock, swelling beneath him. A shaft of sunlight suddenly burst
through the canopy overhead and seemingly thrust itself, like some rapacious
deity, between the cheeks of Johno's bum. The effect had a curious impact on
Huw, remembering how this boy had been raped as a youngster. He ran his hand
along the inside of Johno's thighs, pushing his hand down until it brushed
lightly against his balls, covered with soft fur, as if to comfort him.

Johno opened his legs slightly, delicious memories floating through is mind
of Donald Swan's large cock thrusting through them, drawing back and rubbing
up the crack of his arse, then plunging back between his thighs, the tip
brushing against his balls, at the same time as he felt Swan's own balls
crushed against the back of his legs. Then the final urgent thrust,
accompanied by cries of pleasure, as the master spewed his sperm over
Johno's youthful nuts. Johno fantasised that Donald Swan would one day fuck
him. He had felt a tingling in his spine as Swan's cock brushed over his
anus, but memories of the rape of his virginity by Lindsay, two years
earlier when he was only thirteen, threw a dark veil over his libido when he
contemplated that ultimate act of intimacy. He was not ready for that just
yet.

As these thoughts swirled through Johno's mind, Huw closed the gap between
them and kissed him lightly on the cheek. His thoughts dwelt on their first
sex together, only that week, and how he had filled Johno's welcoming mouth
with his spunk. Johno moved his head slightly and their lips met. Huw had
never really kissed anyone before, but now felt Johno's tongue slipping
inside his mouth. It was something Johno had learnt from Donald Swan: the
boy had been well educated by the man.

As they came up for air Huw exclaimed "Wow, that was fantastic. Johno, where
did you learn that?"

"You know you don't ask such questions," Johno retorted, smiling, "but I'll
let you guess, and give you a hint: I had a good master."

Huw stared into Johno's face, the lines of which were gradually hardening
from the boyish good looks of adolescence into the handsome features of a
youth, with the down visible on his cheeks. He thought of all the boys he
had seen at Johno's bed over the past couple of years. Ben, Dicky, Robby,
Josh, Jimmy, Dave, Rupert, Fish, Jacko, Whitey and a few others. He couldn't
remember seeing any kissing going on, only the movement under the bed
clothes. Kissing was decidedly off, in the sub-culture of the boarding
school. Who could have Johno done it with? God, was it Lindsay he wondered.
No, theirs had been a one off thing, more plain lust than tender embraces.
Huw was mystified.

"Give up," he said. "I thought of Ben, Dicky and Rupert," he added, naming
some of the more likely characters he had seen Johno entertaining, "but I
don't reckon any of them or the others are into that."

"Well, I guess I've seen a few blokes visiting your bed too," Johno replied,
acknowledging Huw's observation of his nocturnal activities over the years.

"No, none of them," he added.

Huw's hand continued to massage the inside of Johno's thighs as they talked.
His own cock was had grown to full stretch and he shifted his body to
accommodate the pressure. He turned on his side, proudly revealing its full
glory. Johno too turned to face Huw, the sunlight glistening on the moist
tip of his young cock. The boys took in the sight of each other's manhood.

"Impressive," said Johno. "I've never seen one grow so much from small
beginnings to that size," he remarked, admiring the seven inches of
circumcised flesh that Huw sported when fully erect.

"Yours is nice too," Huw answered, admiring the well shaped and well
proportioned, but lesser member that Johno showed.

The boys embraced again, their mouths meeting in another passionate kiss,
their cocks pressing against each other, as the late summer sun warmed their
naked bodies, and the kookaburras seemed to laugh at their antics.

As their lips parted Huw slipped his hand down to feel Johno's rigid tool.
It was hard, like his body, moist at the tip, like his mouth, and pulsating
like his tongue as it darted around Huw's teeth. He brought up against his
own throbbing flesh, the tip extending just an inch or so short of Huw's
impressive length, their balls pressing against each other. The precum
leaking from each mingled and shone in the warm light. Huw gazed into
Johno's clear blue eyes, and Johno's met his with a steady stare.

As the warmth spread between their moist groins, Huw for the first time
realised what a handsome youth Johno had become, his body compact and
taught. Huw although the younger was taller, softer and his smooth round
cheeks lacked the definition of Johno's emerging manhood. But it was Huw's
eyes that caught Johno's attention. They were intense blue, like his own,
but wider, openly sensual, eyes that he knew he could trust. And he had to
trust someone.

Huw's hand worked their cocks to a state of near frenzy. Suddenly Johno
pulled back, close to the edge of orgasm, and rolled on his back. He wanted
to feel that lovely dick of Huw's between his legs.

"Fuck me, Huwy," he breathed, hastily adding "between my thighs."

Huw moved on top of Johno, placing the glistening tip at the end of his
seven inches between Johno's legs. He felt Johno's balls brushing against
the top as he forced it home. Johno's rigid cock pressed against his belly
as he lowered himself on to his chest, and their mouths met once more. Huw
moved gently as his climax approached, the tip of his prick moving against
the crack of Johno's arse as he pushed it as far as it would go. His tongue
moved in unison with the thrust of his cock. He felt the spunk from his
balls, squashed against Johno's legs, rising through the bulging vein at the
base of his cock.

"I'm coming," he cried as he pressed as far as he could into the boy beneath
him. As his spunk surged through the length of his cock to spatter against
Johno's crack and seep into the towel on which they lay, Huw felt Johno's
penis pulse against his belly, and the liquid warmth of his spunk diffuse
between their bodies.

The boys remained in a close embrace, their bodies glued together by Johno's
copious offering, as they rolled onto their sides. As post-orgasmic torpor,
enhanced by the sun's warm rays, overtook their naked bodies, Huw's thoughts
drifted back to their earlier conversation.

"Tell me who it was," Huw said, "who taught you to kiss like that? I'd like
to get together. You also said that you were going to tell me something
about Simon," he added, blushing slightly as he spoke the name of the boy he
loved.

"I'm not sure that you would," Johno teased. "He might tear you apart."

"So, he has a big cock," Huw said. "Must be Fish, he's got the biggest cock
in the House. I'd never have thought he was into kissing though."

"Wrong, again. I said I had a good master."

Huw's mouth dropped. "You didn't get off with The Duck," he said, disbelief
written all over his face.

Johno nodded.

"Shit, why are you telling me this Johno. I don't think I want to know." Huw
blurted out, his mind and body now fully alert.

"Huw, I have to tell someone. I know I can trust you. It also concerns
Simon. I know how you feel about Simon. That's why you have to know."

Huw felt numb. He understood that Johno, and probably many others, had
twigged his barely concealed love for Simon. What exploded in his mind was
the pang of jealousy he had felt when The Duck had pre-empted Simon's
company in the bus, on the way to the cricket match at Joey's. He froze at
what he knew instinctively Johno was about to tell him.

"You'd better tell me," he sighed, not really wanting to hear it spelled
out.

Johno, seeing his ashen features, broke it gently to Huw. He related first
how Mr Swan had seduced him when they shared a tent at the scout camp, and
how their relationship had developed into a regular sexual encounter in the
year since.

"I guess we had become pretty familiar," Johno said. "I would just knock on
his study door and go in. He would hug me, we would feel each other up, he
would take out my cock and suck it. I would mostly come in his mouth. I
would usually pull him off afterwards. A couple of times when he found me
working late he invited me to his bedroom, we would get undressed and do it
naked in bed. He liked to put his cock, which is pretty impressive, between
my legs and fuck me from behind, and come over my balls. He wanted to
bum-fuck me, but I wouldn't let him," he said matter-of-factly.

"But it was good. I enjoyed it. And he kissed like an angel. That's where I
learnt it."

"The other night I had to see him during study time, about the final cricket
match of the season. I knocked on his door, and out of habit opened it and
stuck my head around. Simon was there, sitting on his sofa. He looked as if
he had been crying. His face was all wet. The Duck was standing in front of
him, looking flustered. I thought I noticed that he had a hard-on, inside
his trousers. It's the first place I look when I see him."

"I can't be sure," Johno said, breaking the news as gently as he could, "but
I think they had been up to something. I know from my own experience what
The Duck is like, and I didn't think it was only tears on Simon's face. I
thought I could smell spunk. I just mumbled 'sorry, didn't know you had
someone with you' and withdrew before I had time to take any more in.

"So, there you are. I don't know what to do. I had to tell someone. You know
why I'm telling you, Huwy."

Huw was silent. He had no idea what to say, or how to react. His brain had
turned to water, all feeling drained from his body. He had been shocked
enough to learn of Johno's relationship with The Duck, but Simon…… His mind
could barely cope with the thought of him being ravaged by Swan.

Johno put his arm around him. The two boys were still naked, and Huw began
to sob quietly as he felt the warmth of Johno's body and the feeling
conveyed by his embrace.

"Let's go for a swim and cool off," Johno said gently. "We can talk about
this later."

He took Huw by the hand and they leapt from the rock into the deep pool
below. Huw felt the soothing embrace of the cool water. He swam to Johno and
hugged him tightly in the water. He could not get Simon out of his mind.

"Thanks, Johno, for trusting me. I needed to know. Yes, I love Simon, but
we've never actually done anything, apart from a bit of a feel in the bus
coming home from Joey's," Huw confessed. "I don't know what we should do."

"I thought you might talk to him, as you're good friends, at least."

The tension in Huw's body drained away as they swam together. He told Johno
of the warning Lindsay had given him after the episode in the bus where he
and Simon had got so close as to be noticed, and how he had distanced
himself from Simon.

"Ah, trust Lindsay to notice," Johno replied. "I suppose he told you about
what happened to him - and me."

"Yes, he broke the code, to give me the message," Huw said, referring to the
unwritten rule among boys in the school that you never named your sexual
partners. "So, I had to take the warning seriously. And I understand why you
won't let The Duck fuck you," he added gently, intimating his knowledge of
what Lindsay had done to Johno in the luggage room of the House. There was
no point in concealing anything from each other now. They were embarking on
a totally honest relationship, going beyond schoolboy lust, enjoyable as
finding that in each other had been.

The boys emerged from the water, their youthful bodies glowing in the
afternoon sun, dried themselves, and ate their picnic lunch, the dappled
sunlight from the forest camouflaging their still naked bodies.

"I'll think of a way," Huw said. "What about Lindsay, should we bring him
in?" Huw asked.

"No," Johno replied. I think you have to get to Simon first. What about the
Easter break coming up. Can you invite him to spend it with you? You know
his folks have moved to Western Australia, so he can't go home."

"Yes, he told me," Huw replied, "but I hadn't thought of him having nowhere
to go for the hols. That's a great idea. And it's only next week."

The boys swam again, dressed and walked slowly through the bush to their
bikes at the top of the gorge. They peddled back to school in silence.

A palpable bond had been forged between them, on that late summer's day, on
the rock of thoughts honestly shared, jutting out into the forest of
adolescent desires, in the warm sunlight of their sexuality, and values
which found expression, irrespective of motives, in rescuing a younger boy
from the inviting, but deep, waters into which his burgeoning sexuality was
pulling him. They would be friends for life.
In later years, as they gathered together the shards of their life's
experiences, and sought to form them into some coherent shape, both would
remember that day at Hanging Rock as a defining moment in their lives.

But for now Huw had to work out how to get close enough to Simon to ensure
he could catch him, in the rye, before the boy that he loved more than
anyone else on earth, tumbled over the precipice.

End of Part 7.
Comments would be welcome. E-mail to danielsjim@hotmail.com