choristers-house-8

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Subject: CHORISTERS HOUSE 8 (Adult/Youth) As always, this story is total fantasy -- these events never happened and it is merely a product of my perverted imagination -- and any similarities between real people and individual characters, and real venues and these fictitious ones, is purely coincidental! Nifty is a source of great entertainment, but also needs funds to survive. You can make a donation by following this link: https://donate./donate.html Here are other stories by the same fty//gay/adult-youth/seducing-sibelius/ It's always gratifying to receive feedback. The author may be contacted ail CHORISTERS HOUSE 8 (Adult/Youth) During the past few years the showers and changing rooms in the other two boarding houses of the Cathedral School had been modernised. Pandering to contemporary ideas of privacy they had been partitioned off into single cubicles with individual shower heads, and a curtain provided to preserve users' modesty. In practice, as boys will be boys, there was still a fair amount of nudity as they passed between the showers area and changing room. Choristers House had been due to follow suit the previous summer, but the contractors scheduled to do the work had gone bust, and a replacement had yet to be found. Although antiquated and draughty, the ancient communal facilities provided me with the highlight of my day -- namely the opportunity to allow my daily indulgence of perving over a dozen or so naked boys, most between the ages of 10 and 14. I was also of the honest opinion that the daily naked ritual encouraged and reinforced a certain level of camaraderie which I was keen to establish in the choir. In addition it gave the opportunity for younger boys to observe in their older colleagues the physical changes that they would experience in future years and be better prepared and less confused when their time came. Erections, for example, were not uncommon, and by observation seen to be perfectly natural -- I remember myself at about age 10 or 11 becoming extremely anxious that it must only happen to me, and that I might have something wrong! After lessons in the classrooms were over for the day Tawfiiq arrived at Choristers with his few personal possessions. Ant had already helped Toby move in with Micky (who feigned resignation at the move, but I think was secretly looking forward to having a 'cell mate' again!) Ant and Tawfiiq were clearly very excited at sharing, and I had to admonish them several time to try to keep the noise down, but seeing Tawfiiq happier than I'd ever seen him was such a joy that my heart wasn't really in it! Most of the day I had been speculating to myself on how he was going to react to our more relaxed attitude to nudity, and I knew that quite a few, if not all, the boys were curious about his 'equipment' -- after all, most had never seen a 'black' person naked before. And I couldn't really ask his previous Housemaster about the boy's attitude to nudity without arousing suspicion in my own keen interest! I'd been checking my watch regularly as 'Cloister Time' approached at snails pace. A few weeks before, as a joke to amuse the boys, I had purchased an old-fashioned squeeze-bulb bicycle hooter which emitted a two-tone 'honk honk' as you squeezed and released the bulb -- the lower tone was so fart-like that I knew it would provide amusement for weeks! I used it to announce certain regular activities, instead of bawling down the corridor, for example, "CLOISTER TIME!" The hooter was much more fun! I was watching Ant as I honked. He immediately grabbed Tawfiiq by the wrist and literally dragged him down the stairs to the changing room. By the time I'd checked that all the boys had made their way downstairs and descended myself, Ant was already stripped and standing unashamedly naked in front of Tawfiiq with his hands on his hips. Tawfiiq seemed less in a hurry but quite relaxed. Naked from the waist up, he stepped out of his uniform shorts leaving him in only his regulation Y-fronts, contrasting brightly against his almost ebony skin. I think he must have sensed that he was at that moment the centre of attention, and wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to be or not, now that the situation had reached the tipping point. His previously relaxed attitude had perceptibly given way to palpable tension -- his body trembled slightly and he turned to face the lockers, his back to his audience. He knew there was no ducking the inevitable, and I tried to imagine what was going on in his mind. Maybe he was turned on by the prospect of displaying himself so publicly, and perhaps he was praying that he wouldn't embarrass himself by getting an erection. Was he even now regretting his keenness to join Choristers and wishing he still had the relative privacy of his old surroundings? He glanced over his shoulder directly into my eyes, and I hoped I hadn't been obviously leering at him! I tried for a casual expression, and what I hoped was an encouraging smile. He turned again to face the lockers, then seemed to come to a decision. Ignoring the scrutiny of his new house mates he turned and focused his attention on me and me alone and hitched his thumbs in the waistband of his Y-fronts. I became aware that I was holding my breath and forced myself to exhale slowly As he pushed the garment down to his ankles his gaze remained firmly fixed on my face, and I guess he was trying to pretend that I was the only one watching, rather than having an audience of a dozen or so. When he straightened up his arms hung limply at his sides, with a hip slightly cocked -- a classic homoerotic pose. He must have noticed, and was probably expecting, possibly even welcoming, that my eyes had travelled down his body to his cock And what a cock! Long and thin and dark. And of course circumcised as I'd suspected. When I say 'long' I mean longer than you would have thought for his overall height. Approaching 14cm I estimated (nearly 5.5 inches), but probably no more than 2cm (0.75 in) in diameter. The exposed knob was shaped like an arrowhead. At the base was a neat patch of tight little curls, and his scrotum was plump, each testicle ankara escort (http://www.bayanmap.com/k/ankara-escort) well-defined and separate. They didn't dangle, but I guessed they would become more pendant with the effects of hot water. And by how much would his cock lengthen at full erection? I imagined it hot and hard in my palm, or throbbing as I pressed it with my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I felt slightly faint and knew I had to act. "OK guys, get a move on before we run out of hot water." It was as if a spell had been broken and the boys shuffled off into the shower, although they may have seemed a little more subdued than usual. But before long the usual banter and mild horseplay resurfaced. At one point William sidled up to me and said, hopefully inaudibly to anyone else, "You're are SUCH a perv, Sir. Close your mouth or your gonna catch flies!" But to my relief it was said with no malice -- just William being William. As he was so possessive towards me I had considered the possibility that he might be a bit jealous of Tawfiiq, but he was being his usual sweet self -- even admonishing young Geraint for staring! There had to be a bit of a reshuffle of places at the supper table to accommodate our extra member, and I noticed that a few boys took the opportunity to change positions -- new alliances and allegiances, I wondered? William was in his usual place beside me. "It's beautiful isn't it, Sir." "It? IT!? He's got a name you know!" "His cock's got a name? Wow! I think I shall call mine ... um ... 'RAMROD'! Of course I knew that he was playing. "Wishful thinking,William." "He's circumscribed. Nobody's gonna do that to me. Unless you bite it off next time you give me a blowjob." "SHHH! Not so loud! If the rest know that I bite, none of them will let me give them a blowjob ever again! Anyway the word is 'circumcised', not 'circumscribed'. Where did you learn such a long word anyway?" "YOU, Sir. You said I could use it instead of 'surrounded' in one of my essays." "You're a clever little bugger aren't you William?" "Yes, Sir. I've got a good teacher. Do you think he might like to join our little group? Or do you think Ant wants to keep him all to himself?" "We shall have to wait and see." And I knew William wasn't going to cause any trouble! During 'Free Association' I watched Tawfiiq being interrogated by the other boys. Ant was acting as his 'minder', obviously feeling very protective! At one point, when one of the boys showed a bit of frustration at Tawfiiq's inability to understand what he was trying to say, Ant stepped in with "Oi! Don't take the piss, right? I notice that your Somalian isn't up to much either!" But it was all in fun, and I was gratified by the way 'my' boys were doing their best to make Tawfiiq feel at home. I had arranged an extra short language tuition session with Tawfiiq, just 45 minutes before official bed time. I had a dual purpose. Firstly , the more we worked at it, then the quicker his English skills would develop and he would feel less of an 'outsider'. But secondly it would allow me to seek out any problems he might have had, although I was confident that, had there been any, Micky and Ant would be capable of doing whatever was needed. I had about twenty minutes before the appointed time, so took the opportunity to pour myself a generous single malt and relax in my recliner -- and let the stress of seeing Tawfiiq's naked body bleed off! On the dot there was a knock at the door. "ENTER!" I bawled in my usual fashion. "Ah, Tawfiiq -- very prompt!" He was all smiles. "Yes, Sir. Ant he say you like pun ... pun ... Sorry, Sir, I forget word." "Well, if it begins with 'pun', and it's something that Ant thinks I like, it wouldn't be 'punishment or 'punching'. Try again Tawfiiq." His face screwed up in concentration. "I think it something like 'punky'." "Close, very close," I encouraged. "P u n c t u a l i t y" I pronounced slowly. "Give it a try, Tawfiiq." He did, and it was a very creditable attempt. I moved to the settee, and indicated for him to sit beside me, but instead he climbed on my lap. "I smell booze," he said in perfect English, but then looked sad again. "They punish man for drinking booze. Tied to a post and forty times with cane until lots of blood and he fainted. We had to watch. Always we had to watch." I hugged him against me, and his arms twined round my neck. "You don't have to think about those things any more, Tawfiiq. They're all over." "Yes, Sir, I know. Can't stop remembering. And thank you, Sir." A long pause. Then a whisper. "You like it, Sir?" And I knew immediately what he meant. "Yes, Tawfiiq, I like it very much. It's beautiful. YOU'RE beautiful!" He kissed me on the cheek. "Want to see again, Sir? I like you to see. Want you to watch. Please, Sir?" He wriggled around so he could get his hand into the pocket of his shorts, and pulled out a USB stick. "I have music, Somali music, I dance for you, yes? I am good dancer. I was learnt ... um ... teached ... TAUGHT!" (The latter exclaimed with a look of triumph!) "to dance for people to watch." I had heard of the Bacha Bazi dancing boys of Afghanistan, where girls are not permitted to dance. Instead, boys are dressed as girls to perform traditional and erotic dances at private parties, but they often end up naked and engaged in sex with their rich owners and their guests. I didn't realise that the practice also existed in Somalia -- the difference, I suspected, being that the boys' owners were cruel warlords rather then rich merchants. "You make this work?" And he gave me the USB which I plugged into my laptop and connected to my hi-fi. It sounded like a guitar or mandolin, with soft drums and a sort of flute in the background. He stood, turned towards me and started to sway his hips while moving his hands in circles around his wrists with fingers spread. "I don't have girl dress," he told me as his body began to undulate in sinuous movement, "so we go straight to next part. Take off clothes. But I talk no more, just dance for you." It wasn't like the brashness of the western stripper in a seedy basement club. Each movement, ankara genç escort (http://www.bayanmap.com/k/ankara-escort/ankara-genc-escort) each button unbuttoned or garment loosened, was a study in eroticism. His eyes only left mine for brief moments as he turned to present his back to me. His lips remained slightly parted and the tip of his tongue darted across them occasionally, and his eyes half closed in what could have been a parody of desire. I guessed that it was the way he had been taught, but this was no parody. There was genuine lust in his expression and, as each item of clothing was flung carelessly aside, the proof of his arousal became obvious. As he slowly gyrated before me in just his underpants I refocused my gaze on the pronounced ridge at their front. The regulation Y-fronts were not like skimpy bikini briefs. They were high in the waist, but even so they could hardly contain his extraordinary length which threatened to escape from the waistband. As his hips continued to sway, with fingers spread he ran his hands down from his chest and over his flat tummy until his fingertips came to rest on the front of his upper thighs, either side of his bulging scrotum, with his thumbs pointing inwards and horizontal along the elasticated strip, framing the objects of my desire and the focus of his arousal. He paused for a brief moment, then those thumbs snagged the fabric and pulled it down an inch or so to reveal the swollen shiny head of his cock. Although hardly wider than the shaft, with a pronounced flare where they joined, it tapered to a narrower crown tipped by puffy little lips. They were parted slightly, revealing a hint of dark pink moistness. My mouth watered as I imagined closing my lips round the ridge and running my tongue up the cleft that divided the lobes, then flicking rapidly across the tip. He swayed closer and removed his hands to the sides, jutting his hips forwards in clear invitation. With trembling hands I reached for him. I was undecided whether to slowly peel down his briefs, or just yank them off! Instead I pulled the front outwards to avoid snagging his cock and allowed the elastic to gather under his scrotum. To describe his cock as merely erect was an understatement. It stood proudly perpendicular very nearly reaching his navel. It could have been carved from dark obsidian, its surface smooth with a slight sheen. It looked so unyielding that it would be impossible to bend it from the vertical. Then, still slowly gyrating in time with the haunting music, he turned and pulled down the back of his briefs. His bum was exquisite, each half a hard dark globe of tender flesh, divided by a darker crevice and with a slight concavity towards each side. The cheeks curved out from the base of his spine and were small enough to fit into the palm of each of my hands. I stared in awe as he did something quite unexpected. He bent forward from the waist with a hand on each cheek and separated them. There in the cleft was a small pucker, hardly more than a wrinkle, with a slightly bluish tinge. I longed to bury my face between those cheeks and make him squeal. The music had stopped, and he twisted his head to look back at me over his shoulder. "You like me, Sir?" he asked quietly. I thought I was incapable of speech, and had to clear my throat before attempting an answer. What do you say to a boy, who you thought you could only dream about, who is clearly offering you his perfect body? In the end I considered that anything I might say would be entirely inadequate and banal, so I merely beckoned him to come to me. He straightened up and turned. His magnificent cock led the way as he approached and his briefs slid down to his ankles, threatening to trip him, so he stepped out of them. I sat forward on the edge of the settee, my face level with his steely hard rod. It quivered slightly in time with his beating heart but, instead of going directly for the prize, I tilted my head to the side, opened my mouth and closed it around his plump scrotum. Although probably disappointed I hadn't swallowed his cock, his reaction was nonetheless immediate and unrestrained. He cried out, sounding almost in agony, and I had to grab his hips to prevent his legs from giving way. I sucked on his balls and massaged them with my tongue and reached round to run the tip of my middle finger between the cheeks of his bum and softly stroke across his quivering anus. He cried out again and thrust his crotch urgently against my face. I released him and stood and reached down to curl my fingers around his hot shaft. He shivered violently, and for a moment I thought he might have cum as his cock jerked strongly in my gentle grip. I led him by that long stiff pole to the bed where he laid back and spread his naked body in complete surrender. I took a moment to gaze in wonder at the dark chocolate of his glossy body contrasted with the pale yellow of the duvet. His eyes were tightly closed and he trembled slightly in expectation of the delights he imagined were to come. I watched as his thighs fell apart. He was totally exposed and he seemed to relish the vulnerability it implied. His short life so far had been one of unremitting pain and mental anguish, of constant threat, where he dare not let down his guard even for a moment. But here and now, for the first time he could ever remember, there was no menace. He was not only safe, but felt loved -- cherished by someone dedicated to nothing else but to give him joy and pleasure. With fingertips I lightly stroked across the swollen ridge of his perineum and watched his cock jump and his anus flex violently, accompanied by a high-pitched wail, a mixture of ecstasy and frustration that I didn't do more. Continuing my maddening stroking between his legs I whispered, "I bet you want me to make you cum, don't you Tawfiiq?" He nodded desperately. "All in good time. I bet you'll love it when I suck your cock, Tawfiiq. Would you like that?" He groaned loudly. "And how about when I push you knees up so that my tongue can get to your lovely little hole to lick it, and probe inside you?" This time his whole body writhed, and antalya escort (http://www.bayanmap.com/k/antalya-escort) one of his hands urgently reached for his cock, but I grasped his wrist to prevent him. "O no you don't!" I said with mock severity. "You're all mine now Tawfiiq. This isn't going to be like a quick wank, or the clumsy fumblings of some old lecher. O no! I'm an expert, Rawfiiq, who's going to take you places beyond your wildest dreams, who's going to blow your mind as well as your cock! Just relax now, boy, and leave it all to me." Although his body continued to squirm in delicious anticipation there seemed to be a slight reduction in tension as his submission became total. I crawled up from between his legs to kiss the tip of his nose and each eyelid in turn. I curled the fingers of one hand around his rigid shaft and stroked his face with the other. My lips found an ear and I wormed my tongue around its delicate shape while breathing hot breath and closing my teeth ever so gently on the lobe. "O Sir!" he cried, and I noticed tears squeeze from his eyelids. But these were tears of joy rather than distress or misery. I kissed his neck and he turned his head to expose the smooth dark skin. I wondered if this was the first time he had shown such trust in another. My lips traced the shape of his collarbone, and lower to purse around a hard little nipple, tongue flicking. Across to the other while his cock twitched strongly in my slowly stroking fist. His back arched with the extremity of his need and desire, and my own need to feel it in my mouth became overwhelming. The suddenness of my move to dive down and slide it between my lips and down into my throat caused him to cry out again, and again I was grateful for the thick walls and solid oak door to reduce the risk of the evidence of his rapture being overheard. His cock's slim length allowed me to easily take the entire knob into my rhythmically swallowing throat, and I doubt he was aware of his body's instinctive thrust upwards to increase the penetration. But he was most certainly aware of the pleasure that my massaging muscles were providing for his cock as evidenced by his now continuous moans and frantic writhing. Now was the time to apply suction. I drew my tight lips up the length, sucking strongly, until they closed around the ridge below his knob. I alternated between flicking my tongue over the 'V' shaped frenulum, and curling it around and around, and poking with the tip at the puffy little lips where I could detect the tart taste of his pre-orgasmic discharge. I had to be careful. His hips were shaking violently as his passion mounted, but I judged that a few sucking strokes from base to tip would not yet tip him over the edge, but maintain that blissful state just below the peak. I pulled off his rod with an audible 'plop' and grasped the backs of his knees to bend them towards his chest. I dove straight in and drove my tongue into him. His sphincter went wild! His cries of"O! O! O! O! SIR! SIR!" degenerated into incoherent grunts and sobs as my tongue fucked into him relentlessly. He threw his head from side to side and hammered his fists into the duvet. Now was the time I thought. This was it! My tongue withdrew and I allowed his knees to sink back and spread like frogs legs. I wormed a finger into his spit-slicked rectum which clasped and pulled it deeper as it searched for his prostate. My mouth devoured all around his balls and perineum, then engulfed his cock to the root as my finger pressed and firmly stroked across the swollen gland inside him. The effect was instantaneous and shocking. I swallowed on his glans and sucked my cheeks around the shaft. He arched his back and his trembling body went rigid. With my free hand I rubbed firmly along the swollen ridge of his perineum. His prostate was being stimulated from both the inside and out, and the pleasure that my mouth and throat generated must have been overwhelming. A low growl emanated from his own throat which increased in volume. His whole body convulsed in shattering orgasm, jerking violently against my bruised lips. His cock throbbed over and over, fiercely pumping glob after glob of pent up spunk into my throat. I tried to get it all but such were the convulsions of his jerking body, some escaped to dribble down my chin and drip onto where my finger penetrated his madly spasming sphincter. Gradually the extreme tension of his muscles began to subside, although still trembling and occasionally wracked by aftershocks which made him whimper. Carefully I released his cock from my mouth, and withdrew my finger, which elicited a mewing sound from the spent boy. I crawled up beside him and took him in my arms. I stroked the tight little curls of his hair and caressed his silken flanks, slightly clammy from the strain and stress of his exertions. He buried his tear-streaked face against my chest, and I felt fiercely protective towards this boy who had suffered so much and had witnessed such horrors that nobody should be subjected to, and I vowed that I would do anything and everything in my power to ensure that he never would again. I was confused. What exactly was the nature of my feelings for this boy? There was pity I suppose -- but that was too condescending a term, maybe compassion was more appropriate. I gently fondled his softening penis which so recently had been rampant with extreme urgency and desperation. So there was also awe -- wonder at the intensity of his orgasm. I glanced down at his sleek, dark body, pressed against me for comfort with his leg curled over my thigh. His face, that all to often I had seen in pain, confusion and fear, was now a picture of complete contentment, and I realised that he had, in fact, fallen asleep! I felt my eyes well up and was suddenly overcome with a tenderness that I'd never experienced before. My reverie was rudely interrupted by a familiar knock at the door. SHIT! I had lost all track of time, and Ant was keen to rescue his new cell mate from what he thought were the rigours of an English language lesson! Trying to sound nonchalant I called out "We'll be a few more minutes. We're right in the middle of an important exercise. I'll give you a shout!" Did I really hear him say "Yeah, I bet you are!" I hoped he wasn't upset -- after all I was very fond of Ant. But he was such an easy-going kid, and I was pretty confident all would be well. (To be continued ... maybe!)