Date: Wed, 26 May 1999 01:19:14 -0700
From: David Riley <studly99@nightmail.com>
Subject: The Tutor

I recently found the following manuscript in the stores of the Classics library
of King's College, London.  It claims to have been written in 1382 by the Abbot
of Newlin Monastery, Kent.  I present it here in modern English, though
largely without omission nor gloss.

Chapter 1.
---------

It is little known that I myself originated in the lowly mercer class.  My
father was a tradesman in wool who nevertheless struggled to lift up his
family into the gentility.  I was one of 9 children, but the only one surviving
beyond childhood.  My family was relatively poor, strict and unyielding.

I have been asked to give my authority, as Abbot, to the prevalent debate
concerning sin and so I will include it in this very book so that no mistake
may be made.  The Apostle tells us that our Lord Jesus Christ died to take away
the sins of whole world, and as such, it is impossible for us to now sin.  We
praise God for this mighty grace.  The Aposltle also tells us that for us who
are in Christ, "Everything is permissible..."
Accordingly, I do not see the reason for such intensity of debate as we have
been hearing of late.  So that everyone may have confidence to rest in the
grace of Our Lord, I will now relate some of my own experiences.

When I was 11 years old, my father engaged me a tutor, to teach me Latin and
History to prepare me for the monastery.  In our town there was an old monk
of wide repute, named Father Ethred who had tutored many young boys over the 
years, and my father had him take me for 3 hours each day.  I was a keen
student, wanting to do well and justify my fathers hopes.
Father Ethred was a man of around 50 years, was very thin, and wore a dark
brown cassock and a orthodox tonsured crown.  After a little Latin, he
began to teach me about the life cycle, about birth, puberty, adulthood and
age.  Having lived always in my fathers house, I was fascinated by all that
he taught me and I regarded him as a great sage and thought that he must be
a famous scholar.

In these lessons, we would compare our genitals.  This was entirely new to me,
never having seen a grown man's penis, and I would get very excited.  He
would lift up his cassok, revealing that he only ever wore his cassock and
sandals.  Sitting in his chair, his long penis pointed downwards, arching
over the cushioned seat.  He taught me to touch it and stroke it, which
fascinated me.  I would watch as my tiny hands rubbed his long, thin tool up
and down making it slowly grow rigid.  He taught me how to wrap both my hands
around it and to slowly roll the skin back and forth.

Then he would help me to examine my own penis, taking down my trousers and
pulling on my little piece of flesh.  Once, a few days after we'd begun this
study of anatomy, he was rubbing it and I felt a tremendous burning sensation
in my loins which turned into my first orgasm.  Now I understood why we were
doing these lessons!  From that time, I became more enthusiastic about our
study.  Whereas before I would get bored after a minute or two of rubbing
Father Ethred's genitals, now I would continue, anxious to give him an orgasm
and to see the white liquid dribble out of the end.

Over the span of the next few months, Father Ethred taught me a lot, for which
I am eternally grateful.  He was kind enough to use his mouth on my balls and
dick, which I thought must be heaven itself, and he delighted me with his
finger in my bottom.  By the end of the those first few months, our daily
lessons had a pleasant routine.  Father Ethred would arrive in the study,
with me already waiting.  Sitting, he would bid me good morning and lift up
his cassock.  I would kneel before him and lick his cock and balls to erection
and then using my hands, mouth and tongue, would cause the Father to spurt his
hot liquid inside my mouth, which I would greedily swallow.  After this, we
would begin the lesson in Latin or History as though nothing unusual had
happened.  And then, just before the lesson was over, Father Ethred would give
me my reward for working hard and do the same for me as I had earlier done
for him.

This continued for the next three years, until I was 14.  After I'd turned 12,
I began to grow pubic hairs and to be able to produce a small amount of semen,
Father Ethred began to teach me knew things.  One day he instructed me to
cover my fingers with saliva and insert them into my bottom like he did to me
sometimes.  This felt unbelievable!  I got two fingers in almost straight
away, and started to push them in, back and forth.  The Father produced from
his bag what was to be my homework assignment.  It was a large artificial
penis, made of light wood and highly polished.  My eyes went very wide because
it was bigger than even Father Ethred's.  I now know that it wasn't all that
big for an adult, but it seemed so to me.  I was told that each evening, or
as often as I liked, I was to loosen my bottom with my fingers and then try to
put this wooden penis inside my bottom, and that if I succeeded, it would open
up the possibility for new lessons.

All that week, Father Ethred would ask me how it was going and I'd tell him
that it was difficult and that it was easy to put it in too fast and cause
great pain, but after a week it was getting easier.  At that, I was told
to remove all of my clothes, and then to bend over the writing desk with my
legs apart, which I duly did, shivering with anticipation.  I can't describe
how much I wanted to feel a real penis inside me.  I was only 13 at this point
but I had been taught well.  Father Ethred moved his hands all over my bottom
and genitals, and then put some spit onto his penis and onto my hole.  Slowly,
he pushed against my hole, my heart was beating very fast as I gripped the far
end of the desk.  I could feel the Father's rough cassock on my back and his
hands on my hips.  Suddenly he stopped going slowly and pushed very quickly
forward, plunging his entire penis inside me.  I cried out!  but it was more
with shock than pain.  It felt only good!  The Father soon got into a rythm,
ploughing my hole with his manhood, his hips slapping against my bum cheeks.
After about 15 minutes of wonderful pleasure deep inside me, he became faster
and faster and then, with a few spasms, stopped.

This we continued all the next year, and I look back on that year with great
fondness.  When I became 14 however, my father insisted that I go to a
monastery to further my education.  Of course, he meant that I be educated
in Latin and History, but I had a suspicion that I'd be learning a lot of
more interesting things also.

Chapter 2 - The journey to the monastery....to come

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Please feel free to e-mail me with suggestions:  studly99@nightmail.com