Date: Tue, 28 Nov 2000 02:37:18
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Brewster Boys Play Cupid" (t/t, t/b, t/m, m/m, f/f incest)

Caution: This is a gay story involving preteens, young teens and adults in
sexual situations posted for adult entertainment only.  If you don't
believe young boys should have sex, or in Cupid, don't read this.
Permission is not given to copy electronically or in any other form for the
purpose of redistribution.  Valentines may be sent to J.O. Dickingson at
authorsix@hotmail.com

		       The Brewster Boys Play Cupid

     "Hot damn!" shouted Bobby as he heard the clatter of tin cans outside
the boys' bedroom window.  The nine-year-old, pajamas-clad youngster,
charged down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door, having
paused only to jump into his snow boots.  Racing up to the snare trap, he
suddenly stopped and stared at what he had caught.  "What the fucking
shit?"
     "Let me down from here!"
     "You're no rabbit."
     "Of course I'm no rabbit you little moron!" snapped the naked boy
hanging upside down from the willow branch by his right ankle.
     It was a bright night, the moonlight reflecting off the crisp snow and
the naked boy's pink backside.  The boy was swaying back and forth and his
face was turning red.  He couldn't have been more than thirty-five pounds,
and looked to be about two-and-a-half feet tall, about the size of a
four-year-old.  He was totally naked, which was most strange considering it
was February 14, a cold, wintery night in the northwest.  Despite his
angry, flashing eyes and the scowl on his face, he looked kind of sweet and
innocent.  As Bobby circled around him, he discovered much to his surprise
that the boy had small, white wings protruding from his back.  Laying on
the ground was a bow, a long red ribbon, and a quiver of arrows.
     "Hey, you're, you're fucking shit, you're real!"
     "Of course I'm real!  And I'm getting real angry, now cut me down from
here!"
     "Hot damn!"
     "You little squirt!  You deaf or what?"
     "What were you doing sneaking around in the back yard?"
     The cherub looked at the nine-year-old incredulously.  Standing there
in his wooly, white and blue striped pj's and snow boots and with his wide,
innocent hazel eyes and fresh pink face, he was the image of purity and
innocence, but the cherub had not been born yesterday.  "Com'on, now a days
even nine-year-old's know that."
     Bobby looked up at the flushed upside down boy and then about the yard
and finally up at the bedroom window of the neighbour's house.
     "You were going to shoot an arrow at Cheryl," he observed, referring
to the neighbour's sixteen-year-old daughter.
     "Duh, real genius."
     Bobby grinned.  He, his eleven-year-old brother Benny, and his twin
brothers, thirteen- year-olds Brett and Brent, had spent many nights
wanking on their little boy dicks while sharing their dad's binoculars to
watch Cheryl strip down for bed.
     "Cool bow," Bobby observed, stooping and picking it up out of the
snow.
     "Hey, put that down!"
     "So how does this work?" he asked, picking an arrow out of the quiver.
     "Careful!  Watch the point!"
     Bobby nocked the arrow and raising the bow, began to draw back on the
string.
     "Put that down before you hurt someone!"
     Bobby slowly turned so he was aiming at the upside down boy.  "So you
gonna tell me how these work?"
     "Yes, yes, anything, just put it down!" the cherub screeched, his
normally high boyish voice even higher with genuine fear.
     Bobby lowered the bow and eased the string forward.  "So?"
     "It's simple.  You make someone think of another person, and while
they are thinking of that person you stick them with one of those arrows
and they fall in love."
     "How you make them think of another person?"
     "Telepathy.  You just concentrate on the person you want them to think
about and the arrow will carry the thought to the person you're aiming at."
     "Cool.  Suppose you don't think of a person?"
     "Then the person falls in love with the first person he or she sees."
     "How come a few of these arrows got red tips?"
     The cherub pursed his lips. "I've already told you more than a mortal
is supposed to know."
     "Well, I guess I can find out just by trying one."
     Replacing the arrow he had with a red tipped one, he looked up at the
cherub with an impish grin as he began to draw back on the bow once more.
     "Don't!" the cherub shouted.
     "You gonna talk?"
     "All right."
     "So?"
     "Getting stuck by one of the gold arrows makes a person fall in love."
     "And the red tipped?"
     The cherub frowned.  The boy smiled and began to aim.
     "No!" he exclaimed.
     "Tell me."
     "You're too young."
     "Very well," the boy said with a smile as he sighted along the arrow.
     "All right!  Stop!  It makes a person super horny."
     "Horny?  Way cool!"  the boy said with a devilish grin.  "I didn't
know you did that too."
     "My other name is Eros.  Over the years people have sort of forgotten
there are three roles I play."
     "Three?  What's the third?"
     "I can also put an end to love with lead arrows."
     "I don't see any lead ones here."
     "Not much call for that anymore, and especially not on Valentine's
Day."
     "Valentine's Day sucks."
     "Well, there's not much I can do about you mortals having created the
day.  I had nothing to do with naming it.  Now put that stuff down and cut
me loose."
     Taking the long, red ribbon, Bobby quickly tied the cherub's plumb
little ankles together and then his wrists.  He then looped the ribbon
around his head and gagged him to stop his protesting.  Finally loosening
the snare and lowering him from the branch, Bobby picked the little boy up
and headed for the back door.  Being only fifty-eight pounds and four foot
two, it was a bit of a struggle, but among other things, Bobby was known
for his determination.  Besides, if he bumped the naked cherub's little ass
on the railing a few times as he struggled up the steps all the more fun.
     His mom and dad were watching the eleven p.m. news so there was no
danger in getting caught.  Carrying the cherub up to the room he shared
with his three brothers, all of whom were asleep, Bobby hung him up in the
closet and gave him a big smile. "Tomorrow is going to be way cool," he
observed.  Closing the door, he crawled into the bottom bunk and drifted
off with dreams that would have shocked his parents, and even those who
knew how devilish the youngest of the Brewster boys could be.
     He slept in the next morning, as usual, and had to be called half a
dozen times to get ready for school, also as usual.  Joining his three
brothers in the kitchen, he gulped down several mouthfuls of milk straight
from the bottle and grabbed several handfuls of cereal for breakfast.  On
the way to the bus stop he explained why he was carrying a tiny bow and a
quiver of arrows, and what had happened the previous night.  Never hanging
anything up and never putting anything away, the boys had not had a reason
to go into the closet.  Huge grins spread across each face as each boy
began thinking of what he could do with those magic arrows.
     Bobby's best friend, Aaron, was waiting at the bus stop.  "See your
mom wouldn't let you stay home either," he said as a greeting.  The day
before the two had plotted on ways to avoid this day.
     "Yeah, but it's going to be way cool."
     "Cool?  Yucch, we gotta open our Valentines boxes, and I know I'm
going to get some mushy ones from some girls, like Lisa."  The big event
was supposed to have been on Friday, but it had stormed and the school had
been closed.  The boys had three days to dread over what had become an
annual torture in their elementary school.
     "Yeah, but we all will with that dumb rule we gotta give every single
person a Valentine, not just those we like."
     "Yeah.  What a dumb shitty rule."
     "Yeah.  Like as if I'd care if I didn't get any fucking Valentines."
     "I know in language we're gonna have to write some dumb love stuff or
something, and probably read some dumb poems."
     "Well, maybe," Bobby said with a grin.  "We'll just see."
     "Hey, what's with the bow and arrows?" Aaron asked, just noticing
them.
     "They're what's going to make this day fucking special," Bobby smiled.
     "What do you mean?"
     "You'll see," he grinned.
     The bus arrived and the kids filed in.
     "Whoa, wait a minute," the driver said, holding up a beefy hand as he
shifted his two- hundred-and-seventy pound mass around to face the
prepubescent boy.
     "What?" asked Bobby.
     "What's with the bow and arrows?"
     "Well, duh, yesterday was Valentine's Day, you know," sassed Bobby.
He and Mr.  Blackburn never did get along.  Actually, Bobby didn't hesitate
to sass any of his teachers, or any other adult for that matter, including
his parents.  As far as he was concerned all adults were shitheads put on
earth to ruin his fun.
     "The school board doesn't allow you to bring bows and arrows onto a
bus," the driver said as he stared down the nine-year-old.  He was a cute
looking boy with high cheek bones, dark brown hair with shaved sides and
permed top, and a fine nose and mouth, but the driver knew there was
nothing sweet about him.  He had plenty of run-ins with this particular
spoiled little brat.  At the moment he was staring down the forty-year-old
with an insolent smirk on his face.
     "Ok," Bobby suddenly said cheerfully as he turned around.  "You'll
tell Miss Ellis our drama teacher why I'm not there with the props for the
play."
     "Hold it!"
     Bobby stopped and smiled, his back still turned to the bus driver.  He
was so dumb.
     "Very well, for a play, I suppose it is all right."
     "Well, duh, thank you," Bobby responded as he stepped into the bus.
"Dumb fat asshole," he muttered as he took his seat, loud enough to be
heard but mumbled so as to leave doubt what he had said.
     The driver glared at him with his pig-like eyes, knowing there was
nothing he could do.  His double chins wobbled as he shook his head.  Some
day the arrogant little brat would get what was coming to him.
     As the bus continued on its route, the boys talked to their friends
about what they had done for the weekend and groused about having to go to
school.  Benny, Bobby's eleven-year-old brother, who was a slightly older
version of his younger brother both physically and in character, copied his
history assignment in return for a chocolate bar from one of the geeks in
his class.  Why waste your valuable time when you can use someone else's
was his motto.
     As the students began to file out the bus at the school, they could
hear Ol' Foghorn bellowing for the students to stop loitering and to go
right into the school.  Most bus monitors just stood there in the cold and
pretended to be supervising the bus unloading.  Ol' Foghorn made a miliary
exercise out of it, and every kid on the buses hated him for it.  A smile
crossed Bobby's face and he grabbed Aaron's arm and held him back as he
called to his brothers, Benny and the thirteen-year-old twins, Brent and
Brett.
     "Mr. Fog I mean Mister West," Bobby began, purposefully making the
slip to irritate the teacher.  "Mr. Blackburn would like to talk to you."
     "Oh?  Some misbehaviour on the bus I imagine.  Wouldn't be you Bobby?"
     "Who, me?  No way.  Today I'm going to be an angel."
     "Yeah, sure," Mister West said knowingly.
     As he stepped into the bus, Bobby quickly took out two of the red
tipped arrows.  Striking Mr. West in the back, he aimed between his legs to
strike Mr. Blackburn in the calf.  The arrows immediately dissolved, and
the two men felt a strange sensation flow through their bodies.
     "You wished to speak to me?" Mr. West asked.  The rotund
forty-year-old bus driver looked very soft and cuddlesome.  As he thought
about the fat driver's humongous backside, he began to get an erection.  He
shook his head.  This was crazy.  He was a happily married man who had
never thought sexually about another man for even a moment.
     "No," replied Mr. Blackburn.  He had never noticed how muscular the
man was until now.  His eyes dropped to the thirty-five-year-old teacher's
crotch.  Nor had he noticed how well hung he was.  The obese driver had
envied slim men all his life, and he had always been curious how he stacked
up compared to how other men were hung, especially muscular studs.  Today
for some strange reason he felt an ache deep inside his body that he
normally had for buxom young women, but at the moment it was for the hunky
teacher standing before him.
     "Oh," said Mr. West with disappointment.  Jesus, he had not felt this
horny since he was a virgin teenager trying to make out with any girl he
could.  He stepped into the bus as if his legs were controlled by someone
else.
     The two men looked at each other hungrily.  Unable to restrain
themselves, they embraced and kissed hotly.  As they separated,
Mr. Blackburn reached for the lever to close the bus doors and they kissed
again.  Neither man noticed Bobby had jammed his math book between the
doors, the only time he had ever used the book for anything.  After waiting
a minute, he slowly forced the doors open, and he, Aaron and his brothers
peeked inside.  The two men were not to be seen.  Quietly slipping onto the
bus and peeking around the front seat, the boys spotted the men several
seats down.
     They watched in wide-eyed amusement as the monitor excitedly pulled
down the fat driver's pants and boxers and turned him around, revealing his
fat, white ass.  It had to be at least two feet across and was spotted with
red pimples.  As Blackburn knelt on the floor and lay across the bus seat,
West dropped his pants and underwear, revealing a very hard seven-inch
cock.  The five boys glanced at each other with wide grins, and as they
turned their attention back to the two adults, they automatically slipped
their hands in their jeans pockets and squeezed the rapidly growing flesh
between their legs.
     Spitting in his hand and smearing the spittle over his cockhead, West
stepped up to the driver and placed the tip of his cock against his anus.
The two men grunted and strained but they were horny as hell and even
though this was their first time, they soon united.  As West sunk his cock
up the older man's ass with a sigh, the fat driver groaned with the
pleasure.  The five boys glanced at each other and grinned impishly.
     Neither man had ever felt this horny, and West pumped his hips to and
fro desperately, slapping his big, hairy balls against the driver's pimply
backside.  Blackburn was getting the shit fucked out of him by the teacher,
and loving every second of it.  Neither man had ever had sex with another
man before, and each was amazed at how hot they were and how good it felt.
It was not long before West was pumping his semen up the driver's hot hole
and Blackburn was spraying the leather bus seat with his.  Hearing the
warning bell, the boys slipped out the bus, and holding their backpacks in
front of them to hide the bulges in the crotches of their jeans, they ran
into the school.  This was going to be one hot day!
     The first two periods were language, and as Aaron had predicted, after
working on their journals and doing a few grammar worksheets, out came the
readers and Mrs.  Ferguson, the boys' grade four teacher, told them they
would be reading some sonnets from a group called the romantic poets.  The
girls of course all smiled and sat up with full attention, and the boys all
groaned and rolled their eyes.  Bobby asked to leave the room.
     "You know the rules, Bobby," Mrs. Ferguson reminded him, immediately
growing tense.  As far as she was concerned, he was spoiled rotten and she
was sure he was behind ninety percent of the mischief that occurred in the
classroom, from the frog in her desk to the dog crap that had been smeared
on her chair and which she had not noticed until too late.
     "Yeah, I know.  But this is a real emergency."
     "Bobby," she warned.
     "Okay, but I ain't wiping up the floor when it runs down my leg."
     "Oh, very well," she gave in, seeing the stifled smiles on the faces
of most of the boys and knowing that he would not let up until he got his
way.
     Bobby headed straight down to the principal's office.  Unfortunately
for him, Mr. Bayer was in a meeting.  Bobby thought quickly and asked for
the vice-principal, Miss Spillars.
     "Mrs. Ferguson needs to see you right away."
     "She does?  Why?"
     "She didn't say.  Just told me to come get someone from the office
right away."
     "Why didn't she just call on the intercom?"
     "It's broken."
     Miss Spillars followed Bobby back to the grade four classroom.  This
was most unusual.  Mrs. Ferguson was an excellent teacher, and rarely
called on the office for assistance.  Even more unusual was to send Bobby
Brewster.  Everyone in the school, including herself, was counting the
years before he'd be in junior high and out of their faces.  As she opened
the door and stepped into the room, Bobby aimed for her backside and let
loose with one of his arrows.  Still hidden by the door from the rest of
the class, he quickly took another arrow and shot it at Mrs. Ferguson.
     "You wanted to see me?"
     "Ah, no," Mrs. Ferguson replied, looking at the slim, flat-chested
vice-principal curiously as she felt a desire begin to well up in her loins
that she only felt on the hottest of romantic evenings with her husband.
     "Oh," said the spinster vice-principal, suddenly feeling an itch where
she had long ago stopped feeling itches.
     "What made you think so?" the teacher asked, feeling a strange
attraction as she stepped up to the other woman.
     "Bobby," she said, looking around the room.  The boy had not entered.
     "Hmm," said Agnes Ferguson as she thought.  "I suspect this is a ploy
of his to interrupt the lesson."  If she did not know it was impossible,
she'd also suspect him of having somehow caused the immense discomfort she
was feeling between her legs.  She was feeling even more aroused than she
had after her romantic Valentine's dinner with her husband last night.
     "Why would he do that?"
     "We are reading some of the romantic poets this morning.  Lord Byron."
     "Oh, I love his poetry."
     "Yes, he is special," said the now flushed teacher with a smile.  God
she needed some satisfaction soon, and for some strange reason she had
visions of her long time colleague providing that satisfaction.
     "Are you all right?"
     "Actually, no.  I wonder if you could look after the class for a few
minutes."
     "Of course, but let me help you to the infirmary first."
     As the spinster wrapped her arm about the short, stocky woman to help
her, she felt a rush pass through her loins.  Why was she feeling this way?
Even more mysterious, why was she feeling this way toward another woman?
Motioning for Aaron to join him, Bobby and his buddy followed the two
teachers to the infirmary.
     "What seems to be the matter?" asked the vice principal as they sat on
the bed.
     "I really don't know, May.  I've just had a hot flash."
     "Menopause?"
     "Possibly.  I have this itch, well, you know where, that is about to
drive me insane if I don't do something about it."
     "I have the same problem."
     The two women looked at each other, and immediately lunged for each
other.  Practically ripping off May Spillars' jacket and blouse, Agnes
Ferguson quickly undid her bra and began to fondle and caress her small,
round tits.  She sighed with the pleasure, up until that moment having had
to pleasure herself that way.  The vice principal meanwhile had unbuttoned
Agnes' dress and she had stepped out of it.  Soon her bra was on the floor
too and May began to caress and squeeze her ample flesh, causing her
nipples to become firm.
     They were far too occupied to notice the door slowly open and the two
prepubescent boys slip into the room.  Soon the two women were pushing down
each other's slips and panties.  Although both were in their late forties,
they were not bad looking, and both boys noticed Agnes Ferguson had great
tits.  Bobby and Aaron watched intently as the women began to rub each
other's hairy pussies, and as they slowly inserted their fingers and began
to masturbate each other.  The two women were groaning now with the
pleasure, and they pressed their heaving chests against each other as their
fingers worked in and out of their hot, grasping holes.  Bobby nudged Aaron
and winked.  This was turning out to be even better than his plan to have
the principal fucking her.  Pulling out their stiff little dinks and
beginning to stroke them, the boys settled back to watch, knowing that
poetry was now out of the question.
     When the recess bell rang, the two women were cuddled up on the
infirmary bed and kissing as their sticky fingers fondled each other's
breasts.  Their hot swollen cunts glistened with cunt juice and they were
still breathing heavily from the hot time they had just had.  The boys
slipped out for recess.
     Meeting up with Benny, Bobby agreed to let him have the arrows for a
while and they talked about whom they might use them on.  Noticing
Blackburn's bus still parked in front of the school, Bobby, Benny and Aaron
slipped in to see what was going on.  The bus driver, his pants and shorts
about his ankles, was laying on the floor with his back to them.  His fat,
wide hips touched the seats on either side of them as they slowly rose and
fell.  At first the three boys could not see Mr. West until Benny spotted
his legs between Blackburn's.  The teacher's ass was getting a good
pounding from the horny bus driver.  The heated bus was filled with the
odour of spilt semen, and the boys wondered how many times the two
sex-crazed men had come so far.
     The odour and the sight of the two humping men made Benny's young boy
dick spring to attention and he was tempted to pull it out and stick it up
the fat driver's rump.  In fact he decided he'd slip around to the back of
the school for a quick smoke and give that consideration.  Crouching down
behind the dumpster where he would not be seen, he pulled the crushed
cigarette out of his sock where he had hidden it that morning and lit up.
Inhaling deeply and blowing out the smoke, he felt a quiver run down his
spine.  Shit, that felt good.
     "Ah ha!"
     Benny almost crapped his pants as he leaped up.  There glaring at him
was the school janitor, Sven Bjornson, his bushy black eyebrows bristling
and his big black moustache quivering.
     "Wanna drag?" Benny asked as he handed the sixty-year-old caretaker
the cigarette.
     Sven Bjornson was not amused.  Grabbing Benny by the collar of his
coat, he half carried and half dragged the eleven-year-old into the school
and down to the principal's office.  As Bjornson began explaining to Mr
Bayer what he'd caught the young "whipper snapper" doing, Benny carefully
slipped an arrow out of the quiver and stuck the blabbering janitor with
it.  As he recited the list of other offenses he had caught this particular
youngster committing, including writing obscenities in the boy's bathroom
in permanent ink and plugging the toilets with paper towelling, urges that
he suppressed when at school slowly began to surface.
     The janitor's heavy, Swedish accent was difficult to understand under
normal circumstances, and even more so when he became angry.  Today it was
even worse, and the principal noticed as he ranted and raved that his mind
seemed to be losing its concentration.  Bjornson was also looking at him
very strangely.  Finally the man paused and seemed to be debating something
in his mind.
     "You come now to the vurnace room."
     "Now?"
     "Yes.  Very important."
     "Well, after we deal with this matter."
     "No!" Bjornson insisted.  "Is important you come vight now."
     Shrugging, Mr Bayer told Benny to return to class and he'd deal with
him later.  Getting up out of his chair, he followed the caretaker to the
furnace room.  The moment they entered, Bjornson grabbed him and pushed him
up against the wall.
     "Bjornson, what is this?"
     "Shut your smart mouth up," the caretaker snapped, his voice husky and
his eyes having a lustful, crazed look like Bayer had seen on psychotics in
the movies.  Turning Bayer around and throwing him against the wall, he
spread out the principal's arms and tied his wrists to pegs on the wall.
Quickly undoing the man's belt and pulling down his fly, he yanked his
pants and underwear down and drew them off over his shoes.
     "Bjornson!" Bayer called out, frightened now as the older man spread
his legs and lashed his feet to pipes running along the floor.
     "Call out all you vant.  I vant you to call out.  No vone vill hear
you.  The valls of the furnace room are insulated."
     Sven Bjornson had imagined this scene many times.  Deep down he
resented Principal Bayer.  Now he did not mind people of authority if they
used their authority properly.  In fact, he admired such people.  Principal
Bayer was not one of those people.  He ordered everyone around as if they
were his personal servants, even if they were twenty years older than he
was, and when he ordered them around there was that look of smug
superiority always in the younger man's eyes, and a tone in his voice as if
he found it distasteful to be talking to you.
     He was also a wimp of a man.  Bjornson had brought him hundreds of
students who had vandalized his building, and what had the principal done?
Nothing.  He either did not think it important, or he did not have the
balls to do anything about it.
     Bjornson smiled.  Well, he did have balls.  The janitor reached over
and wrapped his fingers about them.  Of course Bayer struggled and
protested.  A quick squeeze stopped that.  Still holding his balls tightly,
Bjornson caressed the man's ass and ran a finger up along his ass crack.
The men were too occupied to notice the eleven-year-old boy slip into the
room.
     For years Bjornson had imagined how he would show the educated man
what a man did who was in charge, a man who was not afraid to take control
over others.  For years he imagined how he'd get even for the slights he
had endured.  He had planned this day over hours of delightful jerk off
sessions as he devised torture after torture during his lonely evenings.
Now the day had arrived.  What had happened to make him decide to change
his fantasies into realities he did not know.  He just suddenly looked at
the smug toad sitting there tolerating him and already deciding not punish
the insolent boy he had brought to him, and a lust and rage more powerful
than anything he had ever felt had filled his mind.
     Taking out a toilet plunger, he greased the handle and approached the
man with an evil grin.  Bayer tensed as he warned the man not to proceed,
and he cried out as he felt the wooden handle cruelly ram up his rectum.
Working it in and out furiously, the caretaker reached around and began to
fondle the captive man's cock and balls.  The pleasure in his groin
countered the pain he was feeling up his ass and the disgust he was feeling
in his heart.  His mind sorted the feelings and the pleasure won out.  He
slowly became erect despite the other feelings.
     Bjornson himself had gotten an erection, eight inches of heavily
veined cock, which he now pulled out his coveralls.  Withdrawing the
plunger, he greased up his pole and slammed it into the principal.  As he
began to fuck his ass, he reached around with his greasy fingers and slid
them up along the man's chest under his white shirt.  He began to pinch his
nipples, making them burn and grow hard with the pain.  This felt even
better than he had imagined, and he felt like he could fuck all day.
     Benny crouched behind the furnaces watching in satisfied amusement as
he pulled down his fly and took out his stiff little pecker.  He had never
heard of sadism or masochism, but he knew the principal was in pain and the
janitor was enjoying inflicting it.  He also knew he was enjoying watching
it as his fist rapidly began pumping his three-inch boner.
  Listening to Principal Bayer screaming as Bjornson began to pluck at his
chest hairs, Benny took in every detail so he could tell his brothers
later.  Who knows where they might be able to use what he was learning?  As
ripples of pleasure passed over his little organ, he grinned with the
thought that this was the first thing of any value he'd learned in school
in the seven years he had been going.
     Meanwhile, Bobby was amusing himself by scratching his name and every
obscenity he knew into his wooden desk.  Mrs. Ferguson had not shown up for
the mathematics lesson, and Bobby and Aaron had a pretty good idea she was
not going to.  They, along with the rest of the class, enjoyed the two
period spare.  After lunch in the cafeteria, the two boys headed out to the
playground to look for Benny and find out what he had been up to.
     "Hey, shrimp, what's with the bow and arrow?"
     Benny rolled his eyes.  It was Wally, the school bully.  Wally was
fourteen and attended the junior high next door.
     "They're for drama class," he replied, remembering Bobby's lie.
     "Oh yeah.  Look sissy to me.  Let's see."
     "Hey, keep your hands off," Benny said, drawing away.  That was a
mistake.  You never talked to Wally that way.
     He dodged the bully for his first few attempts to grab him, but he
knew he was not going to be able to avoid him forever.  He had to think
fast.
     "All right, you can see them," he announced.  Taking out one of the
red tipped arrows, he concentrated on his idea and handed it to Wally.  He
had no idea if this was going to work, but he could hope.
     "Oh, fuck!" Wally cried out, jerking back as the tip of the arrow
scratched his hand.  "You stupid moron."
     "Oh, sorry," Benny apologized.  The arrow had disappeared the moment
it had pierced Wally's skin.
     Wally looked at him, and then got a strange look on his face.  He
stepped toward Benny, shook his head a couple times, squinted his eyes as
he thought, and then turned and headed into the junior high.  Although
elementary kids were not allowed into the building, Benny and Bobby slipped
in through the doors with their two older brothers and followed the boy.
He headed straight for the washroom.  While he talked to another boy at the
urinals, the four brothers slipped into the first stall before they were
noticed.  Wally and the other boy entered the adjacent cubicle.
     As the brothers concentrated, they heard a zipper being pulled down,
followed by the rustling of clothes and then very loud slurping and sucking
sounds.  One by one they peeked over the partition.  Wally was sitting on
the toilet and eagerly sucking the other boy.  Benny smiled.  Having just
thought about Wally hungry for cock without any particular boy in mind had
worked.  Soon the boy was grunting and gasping as he shot his load, and
Wally eagerly swallowed it.  As soon as he left, Benny went into the
cubicle, his little penis ready for another dry orgasm.
     "Hear you got this real urge for sucking cock," he said with a grin as
he stepped up to the bully.
     Wally did not even question how he knew or why he was there in the
junior high.  He just saw that delicious, three inch bone and had to have
it in his mouth.  Benny grinned up at his brothers looking over the
partition as the fourteen-year-old went down on him.  Wally had no idea why
he was doing this.  All he knew was that he had to have cock, and that it
tasted great.  As Benny was quivering and gasping with his orgasm, the
outer door to the bathroom opened and one of the grade seven boys came in.
As soon as Benny stepped out of the cubicle and gave the boy a knowing
smile, the other boy stepped in.
     "Hi."
     "Hi," replied Wally.
     "Sam said he just got a blow job from you."
     "You want one?"
     "Cool."
     Leaving the bow and arrow with their teenage brothers who were waiting
in line, Benny and Bobby slipped out of the can and managed to get back to
their school before the afternoon bell rang.  Mrs. Ferguson was back,
looking very refreshed, and social studies class and science classes went
by without an incident.
     Meanwhile, the twins were doing their share of matchmaking.  There was
William, the skinny honour student with thick glasses and Joe, the football
jock, paired up in one of the stalls in the north end boy's bathroom.
Debbie, the big-boobed cheerleader was under the stairwell being humped by
Derek, the pimple-faced computer geek who never in his dreams thought he'd
lose his virginity, never mind to a gorgeous girl like her.  Erika and
Judy, who thought they were real hot stuff and who had snubbed the twins on
several occasions, suddenly found they had the hots for each other and were
sixty-nining in the girl's washroom.
     "Do you think if I told Harris I slipped on the snow and hurt my leg
he'd let me out of doing laps?" asked Brent as he changed into his gym
strip.
     "Doubt it," replied his twin brother Brett.  Their physical education
teacher began each class with four laps around the gym and then pushups,
something neither boy was fond of.
     "Yeah.  Shit, I hate laps."
     "Maybe we can find Harris something else to do this period."
     "Yeah?" asked Brent with a grin.
     Slipping into the storage room and closing the door so it was only
open a crack, Brett waited until everyone was in the gym.  Taking out his
first arrow, he concentrated and aimed at the young teacher, and then as
rapidly as he could, at each of his grade eight classmates, except his
brother of course.
     The twenty-four-year-old jock was first of all shocked at the thought
that entered his mind, and then at the feeling that was developing in his
groin.  It was a powerful temptation, and he began to sweat as he fought
it.  He was their teacher, and an adult besides.  What he was thinking was
wrong according to everything he had been told.  As he glanced about at the
lean, healthy young teens surrounding him, the ache became so bad he wanted
to scream.
     Each of the twenty thirteen and fourteen year olds were naturally
horny, and the arrows pushed them over the edge.  They had to get their
nuts off, and they did not care if it was a male or a female that got them
off, as long as it was now.  Several of them began to walk toward the
teacher.  He was young, he was hunky, and they were horny.  As Mike Harris
saw them approaching, and saw the look in their eyes and the tenting out of
their gym shorts, he could not resist any longer.
     Taking out one of the tumbling mats, Mr. Harris dropped his sweat
pants and his boxers and lay down on his stomach.  Billy Graham was the
first, pushing down his gym shorts and briefs and pulling out his stiff
fourteen-year-old cock.  Someone had thought to get the jar of Vaseline out
of the first aide chest and he eagerly greased up his hot, slender five
inches.  Nineteen boys crowded around, all with the same thought, all
clutching their crotches as they watched Billy slip his cock up their
teacher's ass and begin to fuck him.  The two thirteen-year-old brothers
high fived as they took out their four-inch erections and waited their
turn.
     Twenty boys and eighty minutes later, the physical education teacher's
lust finally began to subside.  With at least half of the boys having
fucked him twice, he had thirty loads of juicy teen cum up his ass and had
sprayed his stomach and the tumbling mat three times himself.  As the boys
headed for the showers, he could not figure out what had happened, but this
was going to be a day to remember.
     As the four brothers climbed into the bus at the end of the day, they
could not help but notice the wide grin on Blackburn's face.  This was a
day the bus driver was never going to forget either.  Actually, it was a
day that many were not going to forget.  Arriving at home, the boys went
straight to their room and opened the closet door.
     "Well, dude," Bobby said with a grin as he undid the gag.  "Had a
great day at school."
     "I can only imagine what damage you've done."
     "Damage?  Hey, we gave a bunch of people the best time in their life!"
     "I'm sure.  You going to let me go now?"
     "Sure, no prob," said Bobby.
     "At least you didn't break the bow or anything like that."
     "Hey, I looked after your stuff good," Bobby said defensively as he
reached in to untie the cherub.
     "Ow, damn," the little god cursed as one of the arrows pricked his
backside.  "Oh no," he groaned as he realized what had happened.  "Which
type was it, gold or red?"
     Cupid looked at the four mischievous boys looking back at him.  They
were fine-looking youngsters.  The two youngest had dark features, not
unlike Apollo.  The twins, with their fine, shoulder-long blond hair, blue
eyes, small bones and delicate features looked like cherubs themselves,
young horny cherubs.  His eyes glazed over and he leered at the boys
suggestively.  "Before you untie me," he began, and four pairs of hands
eagerly reached for him. . . .