Pauls Pants

Pauls Pants 7a? The incident in the library.

This is a late addition to the PP series, originally I left it out because I didn't feel that it contributed much to the journey we both undertook, but on reflection I realise that maybe I was being too precious about it. So here it is, another episode in our sexual odyssey; You get a bigger slice of school life too. Feel free to send me your comments/brickbats, as ever, whilst I retain the intellectual ownership of this work, it is freely available to be reproduced. (spasm2[at]mailandnews.com).

It was the autumn term, one of those typical English autumns when the weather suddenly turns glorious after that rather sulky time at the end of the school holidays. As a member of the sixth form, and consequently a prefect I had occasional duties, mostly to do with crowd control. On this occasion I was tasked with playground duty during the mid-morning break, all I had to do was wander about, break up any fights or squabbles, and generally keep an eye on things. Not a very demanding task I think you'll agree, but not unpleasant in the sunshine, and watching a few hundred boys of all shapes and sizes running about and playing together had its moments too. The playground was a long l-shaped piece of tarmacced ground, bounded on one side by the sixth form block and the gym, on the other by the main bulk of the school and the library, and at the bottom by metal workshops and the science block.

I was ambling about by the workshops when a flash of light caught my eye, Ouch I thought, someone has opened a window and scanned sunlight across the playground, mentally I shrugged my shoulders and continued on my way. A moment or two later, it happened again. Once more I thought little of it, and carried on. When it happened again, and two flashes this time, I suddenly realised that I was being flashed with a mirror or something. My prefectorial hackles rose, some little bugger was taking the piss, and if I caught him it would mean a detention. As I looked around to see where it was coming from, whoever it was realised that he had got my attention, and flashed me again, there, it was coming from one of the windows in the library, I could see the half open window and a hand holding a mirror. Once the flasher saw that he had been spotted, the hand withdrew, and a moment later was replaced by a smooth white arse, the little swine was mooning at me, and from the library, which was out of bounds during break, except to sixth formers. Even from the playground, fifty feet away, I could tell that it wasn't a sixth form arse, although subconsciously it was strangely familiar to me.

With a mixture of indignation and anticipation, I stormed up the stone staircase to the library, the door was locked, no matter, I was a keyholder. I unlocked the door, and stepped inside, locking it behind me, after all I didn't want the miscreant to get away. Looking around all seemed to be as usual; the library consisted of a series of bays with pale yellow oak bookcases surrounding a large table and chairs. Although each bay had a big window and no curtains, it was only partially overlooked by the sixth form block, or a fairly distant office building, useless unless you had a powerful telescope. For this reason, the room was used whenever there were medicals, and would be filled with giggling and embarrassed naked boys. There was also a tiny cluttered office on one side, notable for two things, firstly that it had a tiny window into the room with that strange stripy half mirror/half plain glass in it, and that inside, nothing much had changed since the 1940's, the windows were still taped with crosses to guard against flying glass in the event of a bomb burst. Most importantly, there was no longer a librarian, and trusty people (such as myself apparently) were allowed a key.

On this occasion, however, there were no naked boys, only Paul, seated at the far end of the room in a big carved oak chair, at the head of the long refectory style table that ran down the centre of the room. He didn't look up, when I came in, concentrating instead on the magazine in his lap, this was Paris Match, his understanding of French probably didn't go beyond 'voulez-vous couchez avec moi?', but the rather more liberal French culture, meant that the occasional nipple made it into the picture section, making it a must read for any developing schoolboy. He was dressed in the rather louche and scruffy version of school uniform that a rebellious boy would favour; his blazer was hooked over the back of the chair, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and not tucked into black school trousers, sleeves rolled up, a tie with tiny knot cut off short and worn loosely round the neck. These things were calculated to infuriate a schoolmaster, but were not in themselves total infringements of the school dress code (apart from the shirt not being tucked in of course).

I looked at this picture of innocence, seated demurely in his chair, feigning indifference, one leg thrown nonchalantly over the arm of the chair, his focus onto his lap and the magazine.

'I thought that I recognised that arse,' I said, 'what are you playing at, do you want to get expelled?'

He lifted his head up, and met my gaze, 'oh dear, do you think it might have been that serious a crime?'

'Well,' I relented, 'not really, but you'd probably get the strap, and yet another letter sent home to your parents.'

'Hmm,' he said thoughtfully, 'I suppose might I have been a bit naughty, what do you think my punishment should be?'

'Well, I should really report you to your head of house, and leave her to deal with you, and we both know what she'll do to you.' He winced, and rubbed his bottom surreptitiously, he'd been there many times before. 'On the other hand,' I said slowly, 'I suppose I could come up with some alternative punishment.'

'Could you,' he said, with fake sincerity, his blue eyes meeting mine, 'it would mean a lot to me.'

'Well, I am a prefect after all, supposed to represent the authority of the school and all that.' I have to admit I was enjoying this game, and in a slow and sensual sort of way I was beginning to get turned on. Not in the usual 'wham bang thank you mam' style of instant horniness that had characterised our sexual encounters up to this point, but rather a pleasing mixture of anticipation and the first stirrings in my groin. As Paul shifted his position in the chair, it was clear that whilst he was not yet stiff, there were promising signs of life in his black school trousers. 'I know, how about library tag, and every time you touch the floor, you have to pay a forfeit.' Library tag was one of the main reasons why the library was out of bounds to all but the sixth form, an unsophisticated game, it consisted of trying to get all the way round the room from the entrance door and back again without setting foot on the floor, in some parts this was pretty easy, others depended on intrepidity, flexibility and luck. Paul was an experienced player, his lightness counting in his favour, lack of height and consequently reach, against him.

'Ok, that seems fair,' he smiled, 'what should the forfeit be?'

'I think you should take something off each time you fail,' I said bluntly.

'Thought you might say that,' was his response.

'Thought or hoped?'

'Both.' With that he got up from the chair and threw himself backwards onto the table, looking up the room at me. He ran his hands slowly over his body, pausing deliciously for a moment at his groin, all the time fixing his gaze on me.

'Pity I haven't got my camera here,' I mused aloud, 'there might have been a picture or two here.'

'Sod the camera,' he interrupted rudely, 'let's get on with my punishment.'

'Blimey, you are in a rush, still, I suppose there's not much of break left, and you'll have a lesson to go to.'

'So do you,' he retorted.

'Aha, that's where being a sixth former is a bit of a bonus, I've got two study periods next, so no-one will be looking for me.'

'Excellent,' he said happily, 'it's a double period of moral education for me, and he never takes the register, so I can bunk off with a clear conscience.'

'There's something deeply satisfying about the idea that you are skiving off M.E. to play games in the library,' I said sardonically.

'Come on then, let's do it.' With that, he jumped up from the table and headed towards the door, and the start position, shrugging into his blazer as he went.

'Ok,' I said, in my capacity of official in charge of punishment, 'there's no time limit, but any infringements or cheating will carry a forfeit, and a restart.'

Paul started off well, the first stage required him to traverse the bookshelf-lined wall, tricky in shoes and blazer, and frankly I was keen for him to start getting his kit off. The first slip came with a dodgy handhold among the encyclopaedias; he was overambitious and trying to gain height when a shelf tilted, depositing him on the floor among a shower of Children's Britannicas.

'That's the first forfeit,' I announced cheerfully. With little grace, Paul took off his blazer and threw it at me; he really was quite a competitive little soul when the mood took him. I folded his blazer and placed it neatly on a chair before restoring the books and the shelf. 'Off we go again.'

This time Paul was a little more cautious, his school shoes didn't really offer much of a grip, so he kept to the bottom shelf, crabbing his way along quite effectively. All this bending and stretching gave me an ideal opportunity to admire his bottom, and, as his shirt rode up, I might be able to get a sneak preview of what undies he had on. I was a little disappointed not to be able to see any waistband, just quite a lot of his white flesh. Although he had just mooned at me, I couldn't believe he wouldn't be wearing anything, he knew my tastes, and even though he didn't exactly share them, he did seem to get a big kick out of turning me on. I thought I'd say nothing and see what happened next. Paul managed to get all the way across the wall, and onto the first challenge, a tricky turn into the first bay with nothing but moulding and skirting to climb on. If he hadn't been wearing school shoes, he would have made it, as it was the soles were too slippy and his foot hit the floor.

'That's the second.'

He took a shoe off and passed it to me without a comment, he was beginning to get a bit sweaty, and his arms were already dusty from the bookshelves. It was a matter of moments before he slipped again and the other shoe was placed on the chair. Now that he had lost the shoes he made much better progress, and navigated round the first bay without incident, the second, identical bay proved to be no contest either, and he was full of confidence, the third, and central bay on that side of the library was not easy, however, as it had smooth walls with only a radiator in front of the window by way of a climbing point. To get onto this it was necessary to gain height and hanging from the moulded pelmet almost do the splits, if you started too low or too high you could end up in all sorts of trouble. Paul was too high, and ended up trapped, unable to push off from the bookcase, and unable to get back up, twisting his head round to me, he begged, 'can you rescue me, I'm stuck?'

'There'll be a forfeit.'

'Doesn't matter, just get me down.'

With fond memories of my first encounter with Paul's body running through my mind, I came up to him and put my arms round his waist, taking his weight so that he could put his feet down. I let his firm body slip through my arms, his warm butt pressing briefly and deliciously against my groin. Off came a sock, and he was off again, this time he managed to pitch it perfectly, and to applause from me, he posed on top of the radiator. His approach to mounting the other bookcase was messy and unorthodox; launch yourself at it, grab the top moulding and scrabble with the feet until a purchase is found. This technique, whilst it worked, left me with a large pile of books to pick up, and he was away and unsupervised while I was doing this. He easily traversed the next two bays, which mirrored the first two, and was attempting to get onto the low bookcase that featured at the far end of the library. To do this, it was necessary to hang from the picture rail and swing across, being careful not to damage the dodgy painting of some former benefactor as you did so. This had been the downfall of many an unwary boy, and caught Paul out just the same, he didn't hang straight armed from the rail, and consequently was unable to hang on for long enough to make the traverse. Picking himself up, he took his last sock off and handed it to me. Trying again, he repeated the same mistake, and fell off once more.

'Oh dear,' I said smugly, 'that'll be the shirt then.'

He was already taking it off, leaving his tie draped loosely round his neck. This time there was no mistake, he swung neatly across, the muscles in his boyish back moving smoothly, and he landed triumphantly on the bookcase. A stroll across the top of the bookcase, a strategic radiator, and he was launched into the return journey. As with the other side, there were two easy bays, these he traversed without incident, the middle bay proved to be awkward as before, and here he lost his tie.

'I hope you realise you've not much left to take off,' I asked, at my most helpful.

'Yes thanks,' he grunted, as, pink faced and sweaty he clung to a bookcase.

It was while I went down to the other end of the room to add the latest cast-offs to the clothing pile that I heard a crash, muttered swearing, and the sound of books cascading to the floor.

'You alright?' I asked, unable to see into the bay.

'Yeah, I'm fine, you'd better have these though,' and a pair of school trousers came flying through the air towards me. 'The shelves have collapsed, I'll have to come over the top.' Actions followed words, and his head and naked torso appeared over the top of the bookcase. He was very dusty and dishevelled now, but seemed quite cheerful.

'You still have to complete this last bay,' I said sternly, 'or you'll have to go all the way round again.'

'I know,' he said, beginning to haul himself up onto the top of the bookcase.

Once he had got his leg up, he was able to swing his body up after. My eyes nearly popped out (and not just my eyes), all he was wearing was a pair of low-cut girls pink panties, their thin semi-transparent material struggling to contain his manhood. Indeed, they left very little to the imagination, a dark line of his pubic hair peaking out above the waistband.

'Why on earth are you wearing those,' I spluttered.

'Don't you like them?' he pouted theatrically, and knelt forwards knees apart, thrusting his crotch forward to give me a better view. He ran his hand provocatively over the skimpy material, and his prick gave a little twitch as it began to swell. 'I pinched them as a memento from that slag of an ex-girlfriend of mine, sometimes I put them on when I'm feeling a bit horny and have to go out. Just knowing there's a bit of a risk of being discovered turns me on.'

'Blimey, you are a dark horse, but you're taking a bit of a chance wearing them to school didn't you?'

'Yeah, but it really turns me on, doesn't do the same for you?'

'Oh yes, but I just didn't think you were into pants the same way I am.'

'I'm not really,' he replied, 'they're quite comfortable and feel sexy to wear, but it's the danger that does it for me. Anyway, enough philosophy, shall we finish this, I'm getting cold up here.' With that he turned round and crawled backwards along the top of the bookcase, his pink clad butt towards me, as he moved his legs apart I could see flashes of his semi-erect cock and his balls trapped in the fine fabric, he really was putting on a display for me. I was getting very turned on, and eased my erect cock into a more comfortable position in my trousers as I continued to watch the show. He began to lower himself over the edge of the bookcase, legs slowly flailing as he sought a secure foothold, I couldn't resist putting my hand up and gently feeling his butt through the silky material. He froze, and I slowly moved my hand up between his legs, and ever so softly caressed his cock and balls. I could feel his cock begin to stiffen under my hand, distending the already straining fabric even more, he moaned gently, and wiggled his bottom in appreciation. I have to admit that as erotic experiences go, touching up a boy who was wearing girls pants was a new one to me, but definitely one that I would be happy to repeat. I was woken from my brief reverie by Paul's voice; 'Oi, are you going to stand there all day, or shall I finish this off? I'm not in the most comfortable position you know.'

'Sorry,' I replied, 'just seizing the moment.'

'That wasn't all you were seizing,' he added, and continued to lower himself over the edge. I stepped back and just watched him as he traversed the bookcases, his body was quite dusty and sweaty now, and his hair dishevelled. His prick was now well on the way to fully erect, and the skimpy material wasn't really equal to the task of containing it, tenting away from his body and offering tantalising glimpses of his balls and the shaft of his cock as he worked his way around the room. Finally he made it, and turned to face me, sweaty and triumphant, his now completely stiff cock rigid and hard in its pink prison. 'Tada,' he said happily, 'told you I could do it.'

'So you did, ' I replied, 'now let's get you cleaned up a bit, lucky I've got a handkerchief.' He sat obediently on the edge of the big library table, hands by his sides and his legs dangling in the air, I damped my handkerchief in the washbasin in the little office and did my best to dust him down. I purposely avoided touching his erection, although it was very tempting, but did brush my body against it occasionally, as if by accident, each time getting a faint moan of appreciation from him. I was determined to spin this out as long as possible, as I was still punishing him. 'Right, ' I said brusquely, once I had done the best I could, 'stand up and come over here.' I went over to one of the library chairs and sat down, motioning him to stand in front of me. Like a naughty schoolboy (which of course he was), he came and stood there, his hands clasped behind his back, and his glorious stiffness stretching the panties away from his body. 'Ok, bend over,' I commanded, and as he meekly obeyed, I pulled him into my lap, feeling his hard cock pressing into my crotch. I paused for a moment to enjoy the sensation, then, very, very slowly started to run my hand gently up the back of his leg, up his thigh, and finally onto the curve of his butt. Ever so slowly I stroked the smooth curve of his cheeks for a few moments, then, in a change of emphasis I used my fingernails to subtly scratch his skin, following a line from his shoulders down his backbone and ending up at the cute little dimple just above the waistband of his pants. He wriggled in appreciation, his rock hard dick rubbing pleasurably against mine, and I let my fingers carry on along the crack in his butt, and down between his legs. He obligingly spread his legs, and I was able carefully to tickle his balls.

'Mmm, that's nice,' he said throatily, 'you can do that all day if you like.'

'Much as I'd like to, there's a limit to how long we can stay here, there'll be kids in here at lunchtime for the chess club, and they might just notice something.' I carried on with my gentle stroking and scratching for a little longer as I found it very sexy too, my erection was bursting in my trousers and so far I had barely touched his cock. When I felt we should move on, I gently lifted him off me, to muted protest and manoeuvred him round so that he stood in front of me again, facing away this time. I nuzzled into his back and blew softly along the same route that I had followed earlier, at the same time I reached round with both hands, and ran one slowly down from his armpit over his erecting nipples and down over his stomach to the pubic line, my right hand moved slowly up from his ankle, around leg pausing to explore his inner thigh and then eventually and ever so softly to touch his prick as it strained in its fabric confinement. I ran my index finger carefully over the sensitive tip of his cock, and could feel his body quiver with the mixed sensation of pleasure and pain that this created. I could already feel a spreading damp patch as his penis leaked pre-cum, and I was well aware of the same sensation in my own pants. Carefully I moved my other hand down, and into the gap created by his tenting erection, I was able slowly to fondle his balls and then finally grasped his cock firmly. He gave an audible gasp of relief, and leaned back against me as I gave his dick a series of long firm strokes. I wasn't ready to give him too much relief yet, and I certainly didn't want him to come. So, letting go, reluctantly, I stood up, rubbing my aching crotch against his flesh as I did so. He reached round with his hand and grabbed firmly at my erection through my trousers, a little fumbling, and he unzipped my flies wiggling his hand into my pants.

'Hmm,' he said thoughtfully, 'there's a bit of you needs to get some air.' He twisted round, rubbing his cock across my body as he did so, and went for the trouser button; I kicked off my shoes to make it easier for him. He slowly pulled my trousers down kneeling as he did so, with them round my ankles and hampering my progress, he buried his face in my crotch, nuzzling hungrily at my cock which was doing a pretty good job of tenting out my plain white cotton slip. I hadn't anticipated a sexual encounter (how could I have?) and wasn't wearing undies that I found particularly sexy. I had, however, cut away what the manufacturers of pants call the modesty panel, as I liked the sensation that a single layer of fabric created. Paul was doing a pretty good job of soaking my pants, as he sucked at my stiffy through the cotton. It was time to take control back from him again. I stepped back, and kicked my trousers away, Paul got up from his knees and came towards me, his cock jiggling in those little pink pants. I allowed him to unbutton my shirt, and at the same time pulled my socks off, chucking them onto the pile where my other clothes had ended up. I took control again, leading him by the hand to the big library table that ran down the centre of the room. I instructed him to hop up on the table and lie back, he settled back, the pink fabric of his pants stretched near to breaking by his erect cock, the softly furred globes of his balls semi-revealed as the gusset strained. I put one hand up the leg hole, and caressed the silky pubes on his balls again, getting another moan of pleasure for my pains, with the other hand I lifted the waistband of his pants, and his cock finally sprang free. The overstrained elastic pinged back, fortunately onto the back of my other hand, otherwise he might have had a nasty surprise.

I grasped his dick firmly, and gave it a couple of welcoming strokes, although he had been leaking pre-cum for ages, the shaft was hot and dry in my hand.

'Oh dear,' I said, 'looks like you need some lubrication,' and that utterance, I took the tip of his cock in my mouth, enjoying the salty sweetness of him, and teasing at the foreskin with my tongue.

'Wait,' he croaked, 'I have an alternative.'

'What,' I replied indistinctly, 'better than this?'

'Not better,' he pleaded, 'just different, bear with me.' He sat up, and carefully lifted my face off his dick. Without bothering to tuck himself back in, he padded up the library, his bendy cock swinging from side to side as it poked over the waistband of those pink panties. When he got to the chair where I found him sitting earlier, he reached down, and picked up a plastic carrier bag (another sign of rebellion, using an old plastic bag as a school bag), after rootling inside for a moment he gave a squeak of triumph, and padded back to me, brandishing a small bottle. 'Here we go,' he said triumphantly and chucked it to me; it was a bottle of Johnson's baby oil.

'What on earth gave you this idea?' I asked, feeling even hornier, if it were possible.

'I saw it in a girly magazine; these two lezzers got all oiled up and got it on together. I tried a bit in the bath, and it felt good, but I reckoned it might be better if I tried it with you.'

I was flabbergasted, every time I tried to take control; Paul came back with another raising of the stakes. On the other hand, we did trust each other in a strange way, there was no love involved, but plenty of mutual respect and lust. So, although I'd been outmanoeuvred yet again, I couldn't see a problem.

'Ok,' I said, 'but let's do this properly. Put your cock away and jump up on the table again.' He obediently tucked it away, this time he persuaded it to dress to one side, its' hardness clearly delineated through the fine material of the panties. 'Lie down on your front, head on your arms since you didn't think to bring a pillow.' I jumped up on the table next to him, bottle of baby oil in my hand. Carefully, I straddled his body, taking full advantage of the opportunity to rub my erection against his soft butt. I settled myself comfortably at his waist, and squeezed a good dollop of oil into my hand, and rubbed my hands together to warm the oil. I briskly rubbed the oil over his shoulders and into his armpits, by way of an experiment, as I had no idea how much to put on. Paul muttered in protest; 'not so rough.'

'Sorry,' I replied, 'just getting it worked out.'

'What's to work out?' he said, 'just pour it on.'

Paul's impetuosity was very attractive some of the time, but not always very practical. I thought I'd teach him a lesson, and lifting the bottle up high, I poured a small stream of the rather cold oil onto the small of his back. He wriggled and squeaked in protest, the oil ran down his back soaking into my pants and spilling down both sides of his waist, making him a very slippery customer to be sitting on. I gently redistributed the baby oil over his back, and sliding down a his body a little, I rubbed a little into the top of his butt, the oil darkening and making his pants more translucent. Taking a little more oil into my palm, I massaged it into his legs, topping it up with a little more when I came to the inner thighs and his balls. Before I handled his butt, I pulled the panties to one side with one hand, and began rubbing a generous handful in with the other. He wriggled a little and lifted his butt into the air, spreading his legs at the same time. I ran my oil covered hand over his cheeks, and up his crack, as my finger tips gently rubbed oil into the virgin pucker of his anus, he moaned with pleasure again, then realised what I was doing and clamped his cheeks tight.

'It's ok,' I said, 'I won't be going there if you don't want it. Just reminding you who's boss.' I roughly pulled his pants back up, the oil on his body sticking them closely to him. 'Ok, turn over.' Paul obediently rolled over, his well-lubricated body sliding easily between my thighs, he looked troubled. 'What's the matter?' I asked.

'I liked the feeling when you touched me there, but I don't want to do it.'

'That's cool,' I said, 'we don't do anything we don't want to, remember. Now, shall we get on?' It was actually quite hard to move on the tabletop now, as we were both rather slippery. I looked down on Paul, his face flushed, and his ever-present erection distending his now rather saturated panties and felt a sudden rush of affection for him, despite all our experimentation this was still the same naughty boy that had lost his trousers breaking into the lighting control room a few years before. I decided that it was time to bring matters to a conclusion. Picking up the bottle again I sloshed a good dollop into my hands, warming it carefully before I began to oil his upper torso, as I worked my way down his chest, to the sensitive area above the pubic line. His erection was hot and hard under my butt; I was enjoying the sensation of rubbing back and forth over it as I oiled him up, and my pants were pretty saturated with oil by now as well. 'Ok, spread your legs,' I said, moving off him, he obliged, and I poured some cold oil directly onto his panties. I noticed abstractedly that the oil was soaking straight into the old oak tabletop and pretty much vanishing; this was a bit of a relief because it was going everywhere. Standing alongside him, I put my hands directly onto his cock through the soaking wet panties, it was hot, hard and very slippery, even through the fabric. Grabbing it firmly I began slowly to masturbate him, long slow strokes from the base to the tip, he closed his eyes and settled back, an arm flopped languorously out, and explored my thighs before coming to rest on my erection, which was doing a pretty good job of stretching my pants.

'Time to give it a little air, I think,' I said, and gently pulled the waistband of his panties down, allowing his cock to spring free. Although there was still plenty of oil around, and Paul was glistening like a baby seal, I squirted a little more into the palm of my hand, and lubed him up. The heat of his cock and the oil made him very slippery indeed, and my hand fairly flew up and down the shaft, I could see the glans getting purple and more swollen, the tips of his ears were pink too, and beads of sweat were standing out on his forehead. There wasn't much doubt that he was going to come soon, and it was going to be a big one.

As bad luck would have it, just as I was about to go down on him and finish the job, I heard a key rattle in the lock of the library door. 'Fuck,' I swore, 'quick!' Practically pulling him by his cock, I dragged him into the little office, kicking my bundle of clothes ahead of us. We were fortunate, the lock was old and sometimes tricky, so we were able to lock ourselves in before the door swung open, and one of Paul's old adversary's stalked into the room; it was Mr Perch, the German teacher, a tall thin man with a bad temper and little patience. From where we were, heads pressed together, looking out through the little half-mirrored window, I could see the library table, and blessed the serendipity that a hundred years of neglect had caused, for, before the door opened there was a very clear oily outline of Paul's naked body, his back, buttocks and spread legs were very plain, in the moment or two that it took for Mr Perch to struggle the door open this faded to a couple of indistinct streaks, and by the time he had walked into the centre of the room had been absorbed completely. To a superficial gaze there was nothing much to see, and as the schoolmaster scanned the room I could feel Paul's warm body pressed up against mine, his erection as hard as ever. This was a huge thrill to him, I wasn't scared of discovery, there was a separate key for the office, and we were locked in, but I was a thoughtful boy, and couldn't help running the possible consequences through my head.

Paul put his hand on my subsiding erection, and rubbed it softly through my saturated pants as Mr Perch stood listening in the centre of the room, after a long moment, probably only a second or two but it felt like an aeon, he shook his head and turned, as if to leave the room. Just as he was about to leave, his attention was caught by the neatly folded pile of Paul's clothes, which I had stashed at the top end of the library, near to the door. 'Oh shit,' I whispered in Paul's ear, he didn't reply, but his hand tightened on my cock. Mr Perch picked up the pile of clothes and carried it over to the window in the first bay; lifting up the shirt to the light he scanned the collar. 'He's looking for a name tag,' I whispered, 'does your mum sew tags in?' I looked at him and he shook his head, 'is there anything in your blazer?' I continued, again he shook his head.

'Only in my bag,' he finally admitted.

In the meantime, Mr Perch had discarded the shirt, checked the shoes and looked in the pockets of Paul's blazer (a brave man!), with no success, all that was left were his black trousers, and he lifted these up to the light, scanning the waistband for a non-existent tag. Then he did something extraordinary, looking shiftily around the room for a moment, he lifted the trousers up to his face and took a deep sniff of the crotch area, next to me Paul's body stiffened; 'The old pervert,' he hissed, 'I'd never have guessed it.' Outside in the body of the library, Mr Perch gathered all Paul's clothes together into a neat bundle, switched off the lights, and left with them, locking the door behind him. I looked at Paul, standing next to me, gleaming with baby oil, his tumescent cock still hanging out over the waistband of his baby pink panties, his hand still in my pants, and started to giggle; 'Well this is another fine mess,' I spluttered eventually. After a moment of offended silence, he too started to giggle, and this continued to escalate, eventually, helpless with laughter we subsided onto the floor together, arms round each other's shoulders. After a couple of minutes of shoulder heaving hysteria, I finally recovered my composure enough to ask; 'What shall we do?'

'I think we've got unfinished business,' he said, taking my hand and putting it onto his still stiff cock.

'Not that,' I said impatiently, 'I meant about your clothes.'

'Oh them,' he shrugged, 'I'll think of something.'

'All you've got to wear is a carrier bag and a pair of very oily pink panties, you'd better do some serious thinking.'

Paul stood up, and pushed his dick into my face, 'this is all I'm thinking about at the moment, come on.' He grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the floor, and after popping open the door, he dragged me back into the library.

'Better not turn the lights back on,' I said, 'that might draw attention to us.'

'That's ok,' he said, 'this way,' we walked down the library to the bay where he had trashed the bookshelf, just as well Mr Perch hadn't looked down here, there was a big pile of books on the floor. There was also a venerable and squashy sofa, the only piece of soft furnishing in the library, illuminated by the autumn sunshine streaming in through the dirty window, Paul threw himself down onto the couch and laid back invitingly, his legs apart. He looked up at me, and taking a firm hold of his cock, began to masturbate it, all the time looking up at me with a smile on his face. My dick jumped back into life, and I pulled my pants to one side and stood there, wanking over him.

'Wait a minute,' I said, and sprinted back down the library to the little office, grabbing the bottle of baby oil, I returned to the bay. Paul hadn't moved, he was still lying on his back, eyes closed and his fist moving lazily up and down his cock. I splashed a little oil into my hand, and knelt down beside him, slowly placing my hand on his balls, still trapped in the translucent fabric, I moved my hand onto the shaft of his cock and took over the steady slow stroking rhythm that he had been carrying out. After a few moments of this I felt it was time to move things along a little; 'Time we got rid of these, I think,' I said, tugging at the saturated gusset of his panties, obligingly he arched his back, lifting his butt clear of the sofa cushions. I pulled his panties down, not without some difficulty as they were practically stuck to his body.

Once I had struggled them free, he hooked his leg over the back of the sofa and smiled wickedly up at me; 'your turn,' he stretched his hand out to me, and I obligingly walked into range. He ran his hands up my legs and over my butt, before moving round to the front cupping my balls and teasing at my erection with a subtle fingering. I stood there for a few moments, enjoying the sensation, until he lost patience and easing his thumbs into the waistband of my pants he slowly pulled them free of my body. My cock sprang proudly free, and Paul nodded with approval before grabbing hold of it and pulling me down on top of him. Our two bodies, both still slick with baby oil slid comfortably together and our cocks clashed pleasurably as we wriggled into a good position. I sat up, Paul's cock sliding in my butt crack, and moved down a little so that his stiff dick poked up between my legs alongside mine. I was just able to get my hand round both cocks together, and began the same slow, firm strokes that we had been enjoying previously.

The feeling of masturbating the two hot penises together was fantastic, and judging by the look on Paul's face he felt the same way. I carried on with this steady rhythm and after a while, my hand was joined on our two cocks by one of Paul's. I could feel the pressure beginning to build up in me, and could see the telltale signs that he was heading in the same direction. Our cocks were purple and slick with oil, smooth and hot in our hands. It was no good, I wasn't going to be able to hold off much longer, and began to speed things up, Paul grunted and picked up the gear change. We jerked faster and faster until finally the dam broke, and we came together, twin streams of spunk jetting from our purple cocks in a series of spurts and mingling together as it sprayed up Paul's body. With a sort of buzzing in my ears, I fell forward alongside Paul, my legs shaking with the intensity of my orgasm. He was breathing heavily and unable to speak for a moment. I stirred a finger lazily in the puddle of jizz that spread from his flat stomach up to his chest, leaning over and as had become my custom dabbed a splodge of sperm onto his forehead. A moment later he anointed me in the same way, before gathering up a dribbly handful and offering it up to my mouth, I sucked greedily on his fingers and returned the favour.

His cock was still semi-hard, a few dribbles of come decorating the glans, and it seemed only courteous to take it into my mouth and suck the last remaining drops from it. This soon after coming his cock was probably rather sensitive (I know mine is), and I heard a throaty but appreciative moan, a little more attention from me and I became aware that his dick was stiffening and swelling in my mouth, at the same time his hand groped down between my thighs and started to massage my prick. I was pleased to feel my erection slowly return as he carefully manipulated it, taking a moment to wipe away the dribbles of sperm and suck them off his fingers. Pausing my ministrations for a moment I looked down at him, his cock purple and rigid in my fist, and his body was still covered in dribbles and splodges of our come.

I decided that, given our narrow squeak a few minutes before, I had better get him cleaned up a bit, so pulling reluctantly away from his grasp, I got up, and urged him up from his comfortable position on the couch. I took him over to that same library table, and sat him down on the edge, legs swinging and looking about thirteen again, apart of course for the purple shaft jutting proudly from between his legs. I mopped at him rather ineffectually with my oiled up pants, there wasn't enough material in his little pink numbers to make it worthwhile trying to use them. Our Mr Perch couldn't have been that observant after all, because he'd overlooked two sets of naked oily footprints leading towards the library office. I pointed this out to Paul as I cleaned the worst of the splodges off his body and he started to giggle hysterically again, his cock jiggling attractively in time with his heaving shoulders. 'I'd better sort you out some clothes,' I said.

'Oh,' pouted Paul, 'we haven't finished yet.'

'Maybe not,' I replied, 'but I've got to sort you out before lunchtime or you'll be stuck here all afternoon.'

'Oh, alright,' he said reluctantly, 'just don't take too long.'

I went to the office and pulled on my clothes, there wasn't too much point in putting my sodden pants back on, so I pulled my trousers back on without them, my still semi-erect cock rubbing pleasurably against the rough material. Tucking my shirt in, I wandered back into the library; Paul had curled up on the couch again and looked up at me as I wandered over, idly stroking his penis. 'I won't be long,' I said, 'are you going to be ok on your own.'

'I'll have to be,' he said rather sulkily.

'Can I get you anything?'

'If the tuck shop is still open, a chocolate bar and a can of pop?' He was still a boy after all!

I discreetly left the library, locking the door carefully behind me, I had had two ideas for retrieving some clothes for Paul, first off I went up to the sixth form common room, where there was a cardboard box into which lost property found by sixth formers was deposited. Unfortunately, this had been cleared out at the end of the previous term, and contained very little; a couple of ties, an odd gym shoe and a scarf, none of which were going to cover up very much. Looking out of the window I could see across the playground, and into the window of the language block, where Mr Perch was terrifying some third years. I was struck by a simple and brilliant solution to our dilemma, and, thinking pleasurably about the naked Paul waiting for me, I looked across to the library. I was mildly concerned to note that the lights were all on again, that boy had no common sense sometimes.

The tuck shop was on my way to my next destination and by luck there was still someone in there, shuffling stock about in preparation for the impending onslaught that was lunchtime. My purchases accomplished, I made my way to the staff room, if I was lucky, Mr Perch would taking his finds back there before heading up to teach. As a sixth former I was allowed to tap discreetly on the staff room door (those lower down the school were compelled to wait until a teacher passed their way), once more I was in luck, an anonymous supply teacher answered the door, and through the thick fog of tobacco smoke I could see the slumped and immobile form of Mr Evans, a former army PT instructor, who was both the head of PE (physical education) and my head of house. He wasn't far off retirement age, and his mid-morning habit of taking a glass of sherry had developed somewhat, and now you could pretty much guarantee that he would be snoozing by lunchtime. For some reason he quite liked me, and wasn't too grumpy at being awakened.

'Excuse me, Sir,' I began politely, 'I just found one of my form hiding in the toilets.'

'Oh yes,' he said brusquely, 'what's the little bugger been up to?'

'It seems that his classmates hid his clothes after PE this morning, and when they finally relented and told him where they were hidden, they had gone.'

'Oh dear,' he said rather unsympathetically, 'but why couldn't the little sod go to his next lesson in his PE kit.'

'It was double maths with Mr Jeckyl, Sir.'

'Ah,' he replied thoughtfully. Mr Jeckyl was notorious, he was head of maths, taught swimming and coached the water polo team, only in an English boys school would a man who couldn't keep his hands to himself be encouraged to maintain intimate contact with his pupils. The other teachers were aware of his propensity; indeed he was known and impersonated throughout the schools in the borough. In these modern and hysterical times, I'm amazed that we had so many openly predatory men teaching us, and that no one noticed. Mr Jeckyl's potential to do harm was mostly defused by his notoriety, everybody knew he was a pervert, and as a result he was a bit of a figure of fun. Still, it didn't do to present him with opportunities. I could almost hear the cogs whirring in Mr Evans sherry sodden brain, eventually he asked me; 'What do you want me to do?'

'I thought you might let me have a look in the lost property box, and see if there's something the boy can wear for the rest of the day, Sir.'

'Ah yes, good idea,' He rumbled, and shutting the door in my face, he wobbled off into the smog. A couple of minutes later, the door opened, and he thrust a bundle of clothes into my hands; 'D'you think these might be them?' he asked, 'they were sitting on one of the chairs in here.'

'Don't know Sir, do they have a name in them?' I replied, even though I recognised Paul's shoes.

'Couldn't see anything,' he admitted, 'Why don't you see if they're his, and if they aren't or don't fit, bring the boy over here and we'll see what we can find him.' On that note he harrumphed off, shutting the door again and settling back down in his chair.

Jubilant, I made my way up to the library; Paul's clothes bundled tightly in my hands. To my horror, when I came up the stairs, the door was unlocked. I burst in, discreetly dumping the bundle of clothes on a chair and frightening the life out of a couple of second formers. 'What are you doing in here,' I said angrily, 'don't you know the library is out of bounds.'

The less frightened of the two boys, a very pretty blond, met my gaze steadily, he had very brown eyes, a combination that I have always found very attractive, and said, 'We were sent to fetch a book for the art room, but we haven't been able to find it.'

'Fair enough,' I said, 'didn't mean to shout at you. Where have you looked?'

'Everywhere but that room,' he replied, 'we were just going to go and get the key.'

'It won't be in there,' I said firmly, 'all that's in there is the card index and a load of old toot. Let me help you look.' After a very little time I found their book where it had been misfiled, and ushered them, with a few small regrets out of the room. I locked the door behind them, and after unlocking the office door, I returned the key to the lock, so we wouldn't have any more surprises. I picked up the bundle of Paul's clothes and went into the office, there was no one there, I looked under the table, and even opened the small stationary cupboard, nope, no joy. Mystified, I went back out into the library, 'Paul?' I asked, not too loud, 'are you in here?' After a moment or two, I heard a scuffling noise, and Paul's dusty face appeared over the moulding on top of one of the bookcases. 'Ah, there you are, what are you doing up there? Why didn't you hide in the office?'

'Because you took the key with you, you donkey,' he replied, with some spirit.

'Oh bum, so I did, sorry. I've got your clothes back, though.'

'I'll come down, will you give me a hand?'

'Of course.'

Paul's sojourn on top of the bookcase hadn't made things any better; he was very dirty especially where he had been lying on his front. He sat on the edge of the bookcase, and put his feet on my shoulders. I put my hands up, catching hold of his slim hips, despite the remains of the baby oil, I was able to let him slide carefully through my arms until I had my clasped arms under his cheeks, his crotch pressed firmly into my face. Just for once his cock wasn't tumescent, but no matter, I drank in the heady smell left after our moments of sexual pleasure before I let him down all the way to the ground. 'I'd better have a go at cleaning you up again,' I said, leading him back to the office. Once inside, I rinsed my baby oil soaked pants in the sink, and attempted to wipe Paul down. 'Oh, I forgot,' and fumbling in my jacket pocket where I had dumped, I produced a can of pop and a bar of chocolate. He snatched them from me, and leaned back against the desk eating and drinking greedily. I kneeled down in front of him, dabbing at his legs with the damp pants. As I removed the worst of the dust from his pubes, his cock stirred slightly. As it was directly in my eye line, I was taken with an idea, I had never watched him become erect before, he always seemed either to be there, or on the way. 'Don't move,' I said quietly, and clasped his limp dick in one hand. As he leaned back against the desk, spreading his legs slightly, with my other hand I was able to reach up and follow that now familiar path from his crack and to cradle his balls with their silky covering of hair. As I caressed him I could feel his cock beginning to rise in my hand, I opened my hand, and blew gently on his cock, getting a little twitch of appreciation for my pains, looking up I noticed that he had his eyes closed, and he had put his can of drink down. Seeking to maximise the experience, I opened my lips and took his still flaccid cock into my mouth, there was definitely a reaction there, as I teased the tip with my tongue, tasting the remnants of our earlier session, I could feel the blood pumping into it. After what seemed like a very short time, I found myself with his cock forcing my lips apart, the length of his shaft too much for my mouth. Looking up, I could see him smiling in anticipation, a far away expression on his face; my cock too had risen to the occasion and was pointing stiffly down my trouser leg.

'Come on,' Paul said to me, pulling his dick out of my mouth. He helped me up onto my feet, and drew me out of the office. Guiding me over to the big table he indicated that I should climb up and lie back. He removed my shoes and socks, stashing them on a chair next to the table, slowly he unbuttoned my shirt buttons, tugging the tails out from my trousers and lifting it carefully off my body. 'I see you're pleased to see me,' he said, running his hand over my cock as it pointed rigidly down my trouser leg. He slowly unbuttoned my trousers and unzipped the fly, pulling them down slowly with a little assistance from me, he smiled with approval at my erection pinged free, and grasped it firmly in his hand. I was able to reach down and grab hold of his, which had been neglected for a few moments, and he arched his back in appreciation. We maintained this pleasurable mutual masturbation for a while, and then Paul decided he'd had enough, and let me go, pulling his cock out of my reluctant hand. 'Wait a minute,' he said, and climbed onto the table beside me, he hauled himself along my naked body, his erect penis bumping along in a way that was pleasurable to both of us.

Eventually he ended up straddling my chest, his prick straining towards my mouth and I obligingly craned my neck to take it into my mouth again. 'Uh, uh,' he said, wagging his finger at me, 'I want to try something.' With that, he stood up, turned round, and knelt down over my face, his butt spread wide, and his cock poised. I opened my mouth and lunged for his dick, just as I felt his lips close around mine, this was savage sex, brutal and fierce, we both needed to make each other come, and come quickly, as well as using my tongue, I reached up with both hands and caressed his butt, despite previous protestations I couldn't resist running my fingers up and down his arse crack, the hairs were just starting to grow and it was obvious that he liked the sensation; as I softly tickled him I could feel his cock swelling in my mouth. Like many second helpings, this wasn't a long time in the anticipation, I could feel the sensation building up in my balls and I could sense that Paul was about the same. I redoubled my efforts, flicking my tongue over the tip of his cock, and getting rewarded with a squirt of pre-cum for my pains, Paul too was working away, his oral technique had come on by leaps and bounds. The sensations started building up, and I began to shake, I could taste that Paul was on the way too, but it was too late, I could feel myself spurting again and again into his throat, my body jerking and spasming (this is where my nick comes from) with the intensity of it, this proved to be enough to kick Paul over the edge and as I subsided, spent, he came in a few great torrents into my mouth. I was able to catch a little dribble from the side of my mouth and anoint him in the customary fashion; a moment later he returned the favour. Sitting up, we hugged each other in a wobbly solidarity, and after a few minutes to recover, we got up, and without speaking, dressed.

A quick sweep round the library to tidy up, the hiding of our irretrievably manky pants, and we left, the room looking as though nothing had happened. Just before we parted at the top of the stairs, Paul turned to me and said; 'those two kids who came up, the ones you chucked out.'

'Yeah, what about them?'

'They were feeling each other up, I know, I watched them.'

'Oh well,' I replied thoughtfully, 'that'll be the next generation.'