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Copyright GayStoryContent
Short story posted at WhackBlog.com
I sat alone in my study that night trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. There were so many of them. I reviewed the events of the past 24 hours as I sipped on a large glass of whisky and listened to the wind rattling around the courtyard outside.
So what exactly had happened? Yesterday I’d run into Stuart, Alex and Dean, three pupils from fifteen years ago. Except that yesterday was actually fifteen years into the future. Somehow I’d slipped back in time and found myself back here, but changed. I decided not to think about how or why this had happened but to just stick to the facts, bizarre though they were.
Fact one. I now knew that a great deal of sex went on in the older boy’s studies at night time. Sex between pupils. That’s a fact of boarding school life and as all the boys involved were old enough to consent there was nothing I could do about it.
Fact two. Dean, Stuart and Alex would get themselves involved in some three-way relationship. Alex had just arrived at the school this day, transferred from another place for his final year. Although 18, like the others, he seemed younger, was nervous and this showed in the way he defied me and acted cocky and rude. The other lads would soon knock that out of him.
Fact three. At some point during this term one of my students was going to kill himself. I knew this from the future, what I don't know at that time was why and who. Who would kill himself and why would he do it?
Fact four. Sometime this term there would be a fire during which the headmaster would die.
Fact five. I had the power to change this. I could prevent the death if I worked out the who and why.
Fact six. The diary. Someone had left me an account (presumably real as I knew the master involved) of a relationship between a master and a pupil. Again the student was of consensual age and, from his writing, the relationship was exactly what he wants, or wanted. So I ruled out the idea of suicide due to abuse or bullying, and even ruled out the writer of this diary as being involved in my mystery. But why did he leave the diary for me to read?
Fact seven. My wife had left me and I was now on my own.
Fact eight. I had no idea where to go or what to do next.
As the evening wore on I became aware that the sounds of the house settling for the night were dying around me. I checked my watch and saw that I was late for my evening inspection. Each night it was my job as housemaster to patrol the house, ensuring that the prefects had turned out the lights, the boys were settled and that no one was up to mischief. I put on my shoes and set off to check the upstairs corridors.
Upstairs the long, rambling hallways were quiet enough. The younger boys were asleep and there was no one standing out in the passage awaiting my attention. The prefects stand pupils out if that pupil has been talking after lights out or has been out of bed. I give them a telling off, make them stand and get cold for a while and then return later to send them back to bed. That night the lower corridor was empty. I progressed up to the next floor.
Here the dorms contain the lower sixth boys, all seventeen years old. This floor, as is usual, was quiet and there was no one in trouble. The lower sixth are either all creeps or very good at not getting caught as I have never had any trouble from this floor.
Above them, the upper sixth, the eighteen year olds, are housed and I never expect trouble from these boys either. From these young men I should say, as they are preparing themselves for university and adulthood. It is vary rare to find one of the upper sixth misbehaving. Occasionally I will find them studying late into the night and I allow this, as long as they don't stay up too late and overdo it.
This night the corridor was quiet. No lights shone under the doors and everyone seemed to be sleeping. The only sound I heard was a shower running in the communal shower room at the far end of the corridor. I checked my watch. It was very late; too late for one of the lads to be showering. I headed down that way to investigate.
There was but one light on in the shower room, at the far end, where steam was misting the windows and billowing across the cold ceiling. I could hear the heavy splash of water as the person in the shower washed. I moved into the room and was about to call out, to see who it was, when I stopped. Something had caught my attention. From the corner of my eye, in the mirror, I could see that there was someone else in the shower room, hiding in one of the toilet cubicles.
I slid to one side, back to the left hand wall. From there I could see, reflected in a mirror that was not yet steamed up, who was in the shower and who was in the toilet. I recognised Darren first, one of my older lads; angelic face, dark hair and a cocky attitude. He stood in the cubicle. His pyjama bottoms were down to his knees and he held his penis in one hand. He was looking through the crack at the back of the cubicle wall and directly at the figure in the shower.
And then I recognised the new boy Alex Gould; eighteen, slim, youthful and petulant. He had soaped himself up and was now washing the suds from his lithe body.
Something made me stay still, keep quiet. Something compelled me to watch. And so I watched.
I watched as Darren continued to play with himself, his eye pressed to the crack in the wall. I watched as Alex ran his hands down his wet body and found his own genitals. And then I realised that Alex knew he was being watched. Not by me but by his fellow student.
And then I saw something that I had never seen before. Alex turned off the shower and knelt down, facing the cubicle wall. Darren, on the other side, stopped what he was doing and lifted off the toilet roll holder revealing a hole in the wall. He placed the holder on the toilet and then moved to the hole. From what I could see he poked his not inconsiderable penis through the hole and pressed his body up against the wall. His buttocks tightened as he lifted himself slightly and pushed forward.
On the other side I saw Alex take the offered penis in one hand and masturbate it a few times. As he crouched down, bending his knees, I saw his testicles swing between his smooth legs. His backside was nearly touching the floor and its curves glistened with the water.
And then he opened his mouth and lent forward. The other boy’s penis slipped straight into his mouth and I saw Darren’s face as he turned his cheek to the wall. His eyes were closed and he was smiling. Alex’s head slid back and forth as the other boy’s penis slid in and out of his mouth. His actions were smooth, slow, unhurried and he looked as if he had done this many times before. As he held and sucked his free hand reached behind him and his fingers sought out his backside. I gasped when I saw his fingers find his sphincter and he started massaging it.
As Darren’s penis slid into his mouth he slid one finger into his anus, mirroring his own actions. Still he was slow and deliberate. Eventually he stopped and flicked his tongue around the end of Darren’s penis and when he did this the other lad’s fingers curled and scraped slightly on the toilet wall. This was giving him the most pleasure. Alex could somehow sense this and the tongue tickling increased. Darren’s buttocks tightened and I heard him grunt.
And then I saw Darren ejaculate. Alex opened his mouth further and the semen squirted straight in. He continued to flick his tongue at the now red raw end of Darren’s penis as more ejaculated and filled his mouth. And at the same time he pushed two fingers into his own anus and opened his eyes. He was smiling as he swallowed.
I stared at the sight not knowing how to react. Darren’s penis was still firm in his hand and the other boy was still pressed against the wall. Alex, too, was smiling. Sperm trickled from his mouth and down his chin as his eyes grew wide and he winked.
At me!
Slowly he stood up. I was rooted to the spot, burning with embarrassment I felt like I had been caught doing something wrong. I stared back, my mouth fell open. Darren moved away from the wall but I did not notice until he too turned to look into the mirror.
And then there were the two of them, two teenagers, one dark, one blonde, both with erections, staring at me. And both were smiling, defiantly.
I found the will to move, stepped out of my hiding place and walked up to them determined to discipline them. But no words came. I saw only the angelic looks on both of their faces, their smiles, the trickles of sperm on Alex’s chin and on the end of Darren’s penis. I saw their hard, smooth chests, their legs, their genitals and I could think of nothing to say. I just shook my head very slowly.
Alex looked down my body and Darren did the same. I followed their gaze and realised with horror that in the front of my trousers my own penis was pushing out a huge, solid bulge.
When I looked back up at them, hotter and more ashamed now, I saw each one wink at me in turn. Darren pulled up his pyjama trousers and slipped passed me.
‘Goodnight sir,’ he said with another wink, and then he was gone.
And I was alone in the silent shower room. Alone with Alex. Both of us were silent. Both of us were aroused.
He took a step towards me, stepping out from the shower into the stillness of the room, his body dripping and his penis pointing directly at me. He stood before me, his eyes fixed on mine.
And then he slowly dropped to his knees in front of me.
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