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THE HUNTING SEASON
By Pink Panther
Hi everybody! After a five-year absence, I”m finally back with a new story. I hope you like it.
This story is a work of erotic fiction. If it is illegal for you to read such material, you are strongly advised not to do so. Neither I nor Nifty can be held responsible for any unfortunate consequence arising from your decision to read this story.
The story involves sexual activity among underage, mainly preteen boys and adult males. If this is not the type of story you wish to read, you have made a serious navigational error. Please leave this page immediately.
Feedback will be more than welcome. Please send your comments ail and I”ll reply as soon as I can.
The boy flopped down on the sofa in the lounge. His already skimpy khaki shorts rode even further up his long, smooth, well-proportioned thighs. He did nothing to rearrange them to show less leg. He liked his uncle admiring them.
“Looking good, as always,” the man simpered.
Michael smiled. Secretly he was beginning to find Uncle Jack”s over-enthusiasm just slightly embarrassing. But he still liked what they did together.
“Starting Grammar School next week, then?” Jack said unnecessarily, aware that he had been staring too long and too salaciously. Thank goodness his nephew understood him so well. “Looking forward to it?”
“Yeah. Hundreds of boys. Maybe there”ll be some like me.”
“Don”t try to rush things,” Jack admonished. “Not many of them will have had the experiences you”ve had.”
“I bet some would like to,” Michael replied dismissively. “You said that yourself.”
“I know I did. I also said that the problem lies in finding them without anyone realizing what you”re up to.”
Michael nodded his understanding. “I”ll be careful.”
Jack was staring again, admiring his nephew”s thighs exposed almost all the way to his crotch. Two weeks short of his twelfth birthday, Michael was tall for his age and slim without being skinny. With his regular features, bright blue eyes and smooth fair hair, he was a good looking boy, and very sexy, as Jack well knew.
He had seduced Michael, then aged ten, the previous summer. It hadn”t been difficult. Michael had been a more than willing participant right from the outset. It had begun with some semi-accidental mutual touching. It might have stopped there, but Michael had wanted more and things had escalated rapidly. Michael had been eager for each new experience, and within a few weeks he had allowed his uncle to go all the way.
Over the past year, Michael had visited the flat frequently, at weekends and during school holidays. Jack was his mother”s much admired younger brother, so his parents never questioned it. At twenty-six Jack was a fully qualified accountant and already earning a salary sufficient for him to be buying a flat in one of the better parts of town.
He”d also had a string of girlfriends. Nothing had ever lasted, but he told people he hadn”t found the right girl to settle down with. The reality, as Michael knew, was rather different. For Jack, female company was no more than second best. His real interest was in boys, especially ones like Michael who were on the cusp of puberty.
Of course, Michael wasn”t going to say anything. He”d always liked his Uncle Jack, who played with him, encouraged him, explained things to him and always took an interest in what he was doing.
Jack licked his lips. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“I”m always ready,” Michael smirked.
Jack reached across, running his fingers over the hard bulge at the front of Michael”s shorts.
“Yeah, there is that,” he agreed. “Come on then.”
In the bedroom the curtains were already closed. Michael yanked off his shoes and socks and stood in front of his uncle. Jack helped him remove his shirt and vest and ran his hands over the boy”s firm, silk-smooth back. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he unhooked the clip at the top of Michael”s shorts and undid a few buttons. The shorts fell to the floor and were kicked off, leaving the boy dressed only in his white underpants. Jack ran his hand up the boy”s thigh and over the soft material covering his penis.
“I think it”s time these came off,” he whispered.
Hooking his thumbs into the waistband, he carefully lowered Michael”s pants. The boy”s slim, uncut cock came into view, a little over four inches long. A pair of nicely formed balls dangled beneath.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
“No different from two days ago,” Michael replied, smirking again.
Jack pulled the boy”s pants right down his legs and over his feet. He leaned forwards, closing his lips over Michael”s cock. Very slowly, he worked his way down the steel-hard shaft, his head twisting this way and that. Finally, he”d got it all. His lips encountered some tiny blond hairs that as yet were hardly visible to the eye. He began to suck, sliding his hand between Michael”s thighs and stroking his perineum.
“That”s nice,” said Michael. He put a hand on Jack”s head to help his uncle maintain the timing he had come to like.
After a couple of minutes, Jack let him go. He stood up.
“Okay,” he said, “Your turn now.”
Michael sat down where Jack had been. He opened the man”s trousers and extracted his medium-thick, six inch cock. He licked his lips and took it into his mouth.
He sucked steadily.
“Good boy!” Jack encouraged. He ruffled the boy”s hair tenderly. He allowed Michael to continue for around a minute, but he was already getting close.
“You”d better stop,” he advised.
Michael released Jack”s cock and stretched out on the bed, watching as his uncle quickly pulled his clothes off. Moments later, Jack was on the bed too. He wrapped his arms around Michael”s back and drew the boy towards him. He leaned in and ran his tongue over Michael”s lips. Michael immediately opened his mouth to allow him inside. They kissed passionately, writhing around on the bed, their hard cocks grinding together.
Jack eased away. “You”re a very special boy,” he whispered.
Michael quickly snaked around. He plunged down on his uncle”s cock, sucking it eagerly. Jack pulled the boy over on top of him so his mouth could envelop Michael”s rampant penis. He ran his hands up the back of Michael”s thighs and pulled the cheeks apart to open the view of his hole. He fumbled for a gob of Vaseline from the jar beside the bed and gently pushed his greasy finger into Michael”s anus.
Jack began to finger-fuck. Michael always loved this part. He groaned quietly as the knuckles passed in and out over his anal ring.
“Are you ready?” Jack asked, a note of urgency in his voice.
escort izmit “Yeah,” Michael responded. “Been waiting two whole days.”
Jack smiled at the youngster. “Think you”ve got problems? It”s worse for me. You”d get it every few hours if you lived here.”
They disentangled. Michael spread Vaseline over his uncle”s cock. He urgently wanted it in him. He got onto all fours with his feet over the bottom of the bed and his head down on the mattress. Jack moved swiftly in behind him, guiding his cock into position against the small puckered hole.
These days they no longer needed the careful coaxing of the cock into the hole that Michael”s tightness had once required. He now knew how to relax and open up willingly. With one thrust Jack pushed his cockhead through Michael”s sphincter. Gripping Michael around the thighs, he pushed in hard until his pubic hair squished up against the boy”s bum.
“Oooh!” Michael groaned.
“Go on, you know you love it,” Jack growled.
“I do once it”s in,” Michael admitted. “That first bit”s still a shock.”
Jack began fucking the boy with long, slow, even strokes.
Michael always enjoyed this slow pleasuring. But, as always, before long he wanted something more.
“Can you do it faster now, please?” Michael asked. Even while being fucked, he was still respectful.
Jack increased the pace. Faster also meant harder, but he knew Michael was aware of that. So, let him have it. Soon he was fucking the lad with all the force he could muster, and Michael was gasping with each thrust.
This was the part they both liked the most. But all too soon Jack”s breathing became harsh and uneven, just as it always did. He tightened his grip on Michael”s thighs. His cock, buried deep in the boy”s arse, jerked violently three times. Volleys of cum spurted powerfully into his nephew”s rectum. He remained rigid and still, gasping for air, too light-headed to move. After several seconds, he began to regain his composure.
“Wow!” he breathed. “Wonderful!”
He carefully pulled out.
“Turn round!” he ordered.
Michael got up onto his knees, feeling Jack”s semen all messy inside him. He turned around. Jack was kneeling at the foot of the bed. He knew what was expected of him now, and he was happy to supply it. He shuffled forwards, pushing his throbbing cock between Jack”s lips. He held Jack”s head and set to work. In a matter of seconds it was over. Little jets of tangy boy-cum squirted onto his uncle”s tongue.
Jack swallowed it down and licked his lips.
“Delicious!” he said with a wicked grin. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Michael assured him. “That was super!”
“Bloody marvellous!” Jack agreed. “Thank you.”
Michael always felt a little guilty when Uncle Jack thanked him for the fuck. He wasn”t doing this just to please Uncle Jack. If he didn”t enjoy being fucked he wouldn”t have been here. This was more about him than it was about Jack.
He slipped off the bed and headed for the bathroom. He sat on the toilet and allowed Jack”s spunk to dribble into the bowl. He wiped his bum. He no longer had the burning sensations he”d experienced on the day Jack had taken his virginity, and the first few times after that. After more than a year of regular fuckings, he wasn”t even sore.
“All clean and dry? Let”s look.” Jack scrutinized the violated hole. “Looks fine. Good boy. Better get home.”
Michael grinned. He knew how important it was that no one started asking awkward questions. He wanted these meetings to go on forever. He trotted down the stairs from the flat. He loved the feeling he had when he”d been fucked. Surely there must be other boys who would like it too?
Right at that moment, Jack was thinking much the same thing.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex Faulkner drove into the grounds of Woodchurch Boys” Grammar School. Having parked his Morris Minor Traveller, he made his way inside. A new chapter of his life was about to begin.
Woodchurch might not have been his first choice as the place to begin his teaching career. He had hoped to find a position at a boarding prep school like the cathedral choir school that he had attended, where sex involving both boys and masters was an everyday occurrence.
He might never have gone there, he reflected. His parents had met at university and married as soon as they”d got their degrees. He”d been born eighteen months later. His father, after a further three years of study, had gone on to be a college lecturer, while his mother taught at the local girls” grammar school. They couldn”t have afforded to send him to an independent school.
But his grandparents — his mother”s parents — had wished to encourage his talents and had paid for him. At the age of ten he”d developed a crush on their young, charismatic choir master, who had been happy to educate him in the ways of male on male sex.
Although he was an excellent chorister, his real talent was for mathematics, and at the age of thirteen he”d won a scholarship to public school. Once again his grandparents had stepped in to pay that part of the fees that the scholarship didn”t cover.
As a useful rugby player, he”d fitted in well, but he”d been appalled by the attitude of some of the boys who seemed to have no idea how fortunate they were, and acted as though they were better than everyone else. His parents had taught him that that was just wrong.
At age eighteen, he”d won yet another scholarship, this time to read mathematics at Cambridge University, where he”d obtained an upper second. His grandfather had suggested that he should join the firm of stockbrokers in which he”d been a partner, but Alex had wanted to teach. And grateful as he was for his grandparents” generosity, he was not going to allow them to choose his future career.
And so he”d studied for a further year for a teaching qualification in which he”d obtained a distinction. His grandparents had rewarded him for his success by buying him a car and giving him the deposit for a flat of his own.
Alex was deeply grateful for all the support his grandparents had given him. They”d given him opportunities that he might otherwise not have had. And even though he”d rejected his grandfather”s suggested career path, they”d still provided him with the means to get started.
“Right, young man!” his grandfather had said to him when he moved into his flat. “It”s up to you now. We”ve done our bit.”
Alex understood perfectly. It was now his responsibility to make a success of his chosen career. And he was determined to do so. When applying for teaching posts, he”d looked at a number of prep schools where there was a vacancy for a mathematics specialist, but found them to izmit escort be stuffy, puritanical places. They weren”t schools where he”d have wanted to teach.
By contrast, Woodchurch was a highly successful, forward looking school which took boys from a wide range of backgrounds. When he was called for interview, he”d been impressed by its quiet, purposeful atmosphere. The experience of teaching in a school like this would be invaluable. As far as sex was concerned, he knew that he would have to tread very carefully. But in a school of eight hundred boys, there had to be possibilities. He would just need to be patient.
The headmaster, Mr Cope, had been surprised to receive an application from a young man who”d had quite a privileged upbringing, but he didn”t question it. Mr Faulkner was enthusiastic, highly qualified, and possessed the force of personality that would quickly command the boys” respect. He had been delighted to appoint him.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Alex found his way to the staff room where he quickly located Mr Fleming, the Head of Mathematics, who introduced him to the other members of the department. A couple of them eyed him suspiciously, his extravagantly striped blazer an all too obvious sign of his privileged background.
They moved to the mathematics area for a meeting. Alex sat quietly, taking everything in, keenly aware that he was the new boy, though with his good degree and a distinction in his teaching qualification, he had every reason to feel confident.
But this school was so different from the ones he”d attended. He knew that making a success of his career here would be a major challenge. He couldn”t afford to be complacent. After forty minutes, the meeting broke up.
“Right, I”ll show you to your classroom,” Mr Fleming said brightly, handing him his timetable. “And when we”re not in front of the boys, call me Neil. You”re a member of staff now.”
“Thanks,” Alex said smiling.
They headed out onto the corridor.
“In case you”re wondering,” Neil said as they strolled along, “I didn”t give you a fifth year class because they”re coming up to their O-level exams. It”s the most difficult stage to take over, especially if you don”t know the boys. You”ve got a full timetable in any case, so you”d have had to miss out on one year group.”
Alex nodded his understanding, pleased that it wasn”t the first or second years he was missing. Having shown him the main maths store room and given him a key, Neil led the way into a vacant classroom, in which another store room was located.
“This will be yours,” he said. “One thing we insist on is that you make a seating plan for every class. Most of my colleagues have the boys sitting in alphabetical order, but there”s no rule about it. I allow the boys to sit where they want initially, but insist that stay in those places unless I tell them to move. That way I can move any trouble-makers to sit right under my nose where I can keep an eye on them.”
“I think that”s what I”ll do,” Alex said, nodding appreciatively.
“Right,” Neil said brightly. “You”ve got your timetable, class lists for years one to four, blank seating plans and I see you”ve picked up your register. I”ll give you your sixth form lists tomorrow. Okay, I”ll leave you to get sorted out. Make sure you know where your text books are. If there”s anything else you need, I”ll be in the staff room. If not, we”ll see you tomorrow morning, half past eight.”
As Neil disappeared, Alex checked out his new surroundings. As he stood facing the class, the door onto the corridor was to his left, the windows to his right. In front of him, thirty two desks were arranged in five lines.
The door to his store room was behind his desk. The room itself backed onto the main store that he”d been shown a few minutes earlier. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. It wasn”t a large room, but quite large enough. He”d have to acquire a chair to put in it, but that wouldn”t be a problem. If he couldn”t find one around the school, he”d buy one from a junk shop, ostensibly to help him to get to the upper shelves without over-reaching, though he did have other purposes in mind.
With everything in order, he made his way to the gymnasium area. He found Mr Needham, the Head of Physical Education sitting in his office, drinking tea and reading the paper.
“Good morning,” Alex said politely. “I”ve come to ask you about the football teams.”
“Oh yes,” Mr Needham replied, “Alex Faulkner, isn”t it? You”ll be taking the under-15s.”
Alex was disappointed, though he tried not to show it. He”d asked to coach the under-12s, the new first year boys, to give himself the opportunity to get to know boys that he didn”t teach. The fourth year boys who would make up the under-15 team would be of little interest to him. Worse still, many of them would have more experience of football than he did.
“Couldn”t give you the under-12s this year,” Mr Needham added brusquely. “John Laidlaw was already lined up for that. You can have the under-12s next year, if you”re still here.”
“Thanks,” Alex replied. “So when do the under fifteens have games?”
“Tuesday afternoons. As you”re coaching the team, you”ll be taking the top football group. You”ll have anybody who”s any good.”
That was another disappointment. The three periods of games he”d been given would be spent with fourteen and fifteen year olds. It was hardly what he”d hoped for.
“What are the team like?”
“They”re a good bunch,” Mr Needham said. “Etheridge is captain. He plays centre half. He”s a big lad and a good player. For the first two years, he did well academically too, but I heard last term that he wasn”t being as conscientious with his studies as he should have been. You”ll need to keep an eye open for that. The thing is that he lives on a council estate. His parents seem very supportive, but all his friends are at the secondary modern school round the corner from where they live. So they”re out playing while he should be doing homework.”
“Yeah,” Alex acknowledged. “At his age, that”s got to be difficult. What about the rest of the team?”
“Your best player is Archer,” Mr Needham told him. “He”s quick and skilful. Most defenders can”t get near him. He plays either on the left wing or as an inside left. He”s another bright lad. After that, you”ve got maybe four more good players. The others are, well, competent and reliable.”
“Thanks,” Alex said, smiling. “That”s been really helpful.”
He returned to his classroom. Coaching the under-15 football team was a challenge he hadn”t prepared for. During his school holidays he”d played casually with his cousins who attended the local grammar school. He”d izmit kendi evi olan escort played a little while at Cambridge too. And while working for his teaching qualification, he had undertaken an FA coaching course. That that was the limit of his experience.
It was a shame they didn”t play rugby at Woodchurch, he reflected. But he”d volunteered to take a football team, so he couldn”t get out of it now. He”d need to be firm and try to make sure he knew what he was talking about.
Having made sure he had located all the textbooks he”d be using, he turned his attention to writing up the attendance register for his form, and entering names into his mark book for each of his classes. As he was writing up the list for his fourth year class, he spotted the name Etheridge, Philip.
So as well as having the lad as his team captain, he”d be teaching him. From what Mr Needham had said, he knew that keeping the boy on track was not going to be easy. But having been forewarned, it was a challenge he was determined to take on. Finally, with all the lists completed, he was as prepared as he could be. It was time to go home.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Tuesday morning, and term had finally started. Alex parked his car and headed towards the main building, allowing himself a smile as he noticed that the playground was already filling up with boys. They were why he was here.
He collected his attendance register from the rack and made his way to the Main Hall. Although he had not been given the first year football team, he would be form master to 1-Green. At 8.45, the bell sounded and the new first year boys trooped into the hall, while all the other years made their way to their form rooms.
He looked around. The boys looked so fresh, bright-eyed with anticipation. There were some really beautiful ones too, he noted, hoping to find that at least some of them would be in his form. When all the boys were in place, Mr Cope strode to the front of the hall.
He began by welcoming the boys, telling them how well they”d done to get to the grammar school. He told them that being at the grammar school would give them great opportunities, but emphasised that how well they did would depend on how hard they worked. He talked about the high standards that the school expected of them, the importance of good manners, good behaviour and being smartly dressed.
At last, he began to read out the form lists, beginning with 1-Blue. When he had finished, the boys allocated to that group stood up and left with their form master, Mr Ansell. Alex felt a pang of jealousy, seeing two of the most beautiful boys disappear. The list for 1-Green followed, Alex waiting nervously as it was read out.
“Will those boys stand up and go with Mr Faulkner,” Mr Cope announced.
Thirty two boys got to their feet and lined up by the door.
“Okay boys!” Alex instructed. “Follow me please!”
He led them to their form room. The boys lined up outside the door. There was a murmur of whispered conversations.
“Right!” Alex said, raising his voice a little. “Pay attention!”
The boys fell silent.
“When I give the word,” he said, casting an eye over them, “go in quietly. You may sit where you like. Right! In you go!”
They trooped into the room, quickly choosing their seats. In under a minute, they were settled.
“I now need your complete and undivided attention,” Alex said firmly. “My name is Mr Faulkner,” he went on, writing it on the blackboard, “and in addition to being your form master, I will be teaching you mathematics. The first thing I want to say is that when I am speaking to you, I will expect you to be as quiet as you are now. I hope that is clearly understood. I will not tolerate bad manners. Second, unless I tell you to move, every time you are in this room you are to occupy the seats that you are in now. So make sure you know where you”re sitting. My next job is to make a seating plan, so when I point to you, give me your name, first name and surname. We”ll begin with the line closest to the door, starting at the back.”
He pointed to the boy in the back left corner.
“Thomas Grainger, sir”
One by one, he entered the name onto the plan. As soon as he”d finished, he began his introductory talk, fleshing out much of what Mr Cope had said. As he spoke he looked round the room. There were at least ten nice looking boys in the group, not as many as he”d have liked, but not bad.
Two boys stood out. At the third desk in the second line from the windows was a boy with bright blue eyes, a mop of blond curly hair and an impish smile. He looked like a mischievous angel. He wasn”t very tall, but quite stockily built, his grey school shorts fitting snugly around his well-muscled thighs. Alex checked his seating plan: Barnes, Stuart.
Towards the other side of the room was a tall, slender boy, with dark, slightly wavy hair, brown eyes, elfin features and delightfully long, slim legs. Alex checked again: Newton, Christopher. He allowed himself a smile. In their different ways, Barnes and Newton were boy-perfection. He could hardly wait to get to know them.
The other boy that caught his attention sat directly across the aisle from Newton, in the line of desks by the door. He was the tallest boy in the class, with blue eyes, neatly combed fair hair and near-perfect features. Although quite slim, his thighs filled out his shorts rather better than Newton”s did. Another glance at the seating plan gave him the name Whitney, Michael.
Alex recalled filling in the boy”s details in the attendance register. With his birthday less than two weeks away, Whitney was the oldest boy in the form, and he looked even older, more like just turned thirteen than not quite twelve. That was a shame, Alex thought. Although the boy was very good looking, it seemed likely that within eighteen months Whitney would no longer interest him.
“As Mr Cope told you,” Alex said, moving towards his conclusion, “being at this school is a great opportunity for you. As your form teacher, it is my job to help you make the most of that opportunity. So if any of you has any problems, either here at school, or relating to school, I want you to come and tell me.”
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Michael was captivated. At primary school, most of the teachers had been women. He”d certainly never had a teacher like Mr Faulkner. Young and good looking, with his striped blazer under his teaching gown, he seemed quite posh, but not in a bad way. Instead, he radiated energy and enthusiasm. Around the room, boys were hanging onto his every word.
With his talk at an end, Alex issued the boys with timetables, plans of the school and homework diaries. First, they”d filled in their timetables. Then he gave them instructions on how to use their homework diaries. There was no uncertainty, Michael noted. Mr Faulkner made everything clear and simple. If he taught like that, maths classes were going to be super.
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