Diabloa5 & The Aconite Acolyte

Dunn's Chronicles

Part 1: In Light and Chaos

Chapter 5

"Bye Mister Dunn!"

Miles smiled as Logan, the young talker from the showers, waved at him before hopping into the back seat of the idling Acura MDX. Miles could make out the boy talking excitedly as he pointed at him through the window. A woman, who Miles assumed was the boy's mother, smiled at him from behind her large Ralph Lauren sunglasses. The man in the driver's seat raised his hand in greeting, then looked back toward the road and started to pull away from the curb. From the rear window, Miles could see Logan turned around in his seat to continue waving.

I'm gonna miss that little squirt, he thought as the next vehicle in line approached. A dark-haired boy that Miles recognized as one of the Pumas hopped into the passenger seat of the expensive looking Mercedes-Benz M-class. The man behind the wheel looked rather wealthy, and didn't turn to acknowledge anybody, as he put the car into drive and inched down the road.

It was Saturday, and the majority of the students were going home for the weekend. About a hundred boys were going to remain on the campus – approximately one-third of the student body. 'Weekenders' Mister Lerher had called them, although they were often referred to by the more derogatory term 'left overs'. He had explained that most of them had families that lived too far away to pick them up every week, though a few had parents that didn't care to see them. Miles felt sorry for them, especially the latter, but Lerher had assured him that many of those boys, in fact, preferred to stay at school.

"If they went home, more than likely they would be ignored," Lerher had said, "Their parents are too caught up with their own lives to worry about what their little darlings are up to. They see their kids as a burden, keeping them from their respective social events. At least this way the boys have people to look after them, friends to talk to, and activities to occupy them most of the day."

The thought of parents not caring about their own child struck Miles like a slap in the face. How could somebody not care about his own kid? Sure, sometimes people were busy, but children were a gift to be cherished, not tossed aside like garbage. The thought particularly bothered Miles because he knew that he would probably never sire any children himself. Those selfish parents had been blessed with the greatest gift that life could offer, and they were too ignorant to see it. It left a filthy taste in his mouth.

Of course, rich parents weren't the only bad parents. There were just as many poor and middle- class parents that didn't give a shit about their own kids. Even worse – there were those parents that beat on their own kids. Those type of parents made Miles's blood boil. Give him two minutes alone in a locked room with one of those bastards, and he would leave them wishing they had never been born. If Miles were ever to have kids of his own, they would know that they were loved. He would care for them even to the detriment of his own well-being, and he would forever know just how lucky he was to be a father.

Then again, wasn't he just as bad? There was that time in the Philippines with that young prostitute and a few others. Miles wouldn't call it rape per say, especially since the boy had offered at first. But, sometime during the act the boy had changed his mind, which had made Miles angry. He had paid for a good screw but the kid had tried backing out, so Miles held him down and got his money's worth. Did that make him as bad as those parents that beat their kids, worse even?

For a long time afterwards, Miles convinced himself that it wasn't him that had done it. He had been drinking beforehand, and after going months without any relief, he had been really horny. It had to have been the alcohol that made him do it 3; right? He couldn't be called a child abuser, could he?

He had been exhausted after Matthew had left and the powerful orgasm he had afterwards. The boy's closeness had been exquisite after the erotic charge of the shower duty, and he had barely been able to stay in control. Would he always resist his urges or would he eventually take advantage of his position?

Miles shook the thoughts from his head. He didn't like thinking about such things, it left him feeling depressed. And, on this bright, sunny day in late April, with the laughter of happy children filling the air, Miles should be anything but depressed. He had the weekend to look forward to, and since he had no kids of his own, looking after the students for the weekend was as close to being a father as he would ever get.

As Miles turned back towards the main building, a brown-haired prefect that looked about seventeen came jogging up to him.

"Hey Mister Dunn," the boy said as he stopped to catch his breath. "Yes?"

"Hey, I'm Arthur Banks and I'm a prefect in Eagle house. Are you going to town by any chance?"

"Uh 3; well, I don't have a car."

"That's alright, you're staff. The school has school vans that you're allowed to borrow for errands."

"In that case I didn't have anything planned, but I thought I might wander over that way at some point to check out the town. Plus, I have a little shopping to do."

"Great," the boy smiled, "can ya give me a ride when you go? I wanna go to the mall for a bit, got some shopping to do myself."

"Er 3; I don't know what the rules are about taking students off campus 3;"

"Oh, it's cool," Arthur interrupted, "as long as there's an adult chaperone present. I just gotta clear it with the headmaster first."

"Well, if it's okay with them, then it's okay with me."

"Great," the boy grinned, "I'll be back at Eagle house getting ready. Lemme know when you're ready to go."

The prefect jogged off in the direction of his dorm, and Miles continued walking toward the main building. At first, he didn't feel much like dragging around a teenager while he did his shopping, but then the whole 'father' thing crept back into his mind. He supposed he wouldn't mind a tagalong. It would even be a good chance to get to know another student. The kids knew more about the goings-on at the school than most of the teachers, of that he was certain. The closer he got to the students, the more he would learn about what was behind the clean-cut façade of Saint Xavier.

Miles entered the building and went to the headmaster's office. The secretary, Mrs. Eldritch, graced him with one of her usual friendly smiles.

"Good Morning, Mister Dunn, are you settling in well?"

"Yes, thanks. Is Mister Daniels in? I wanted to ask him about going into town."

"Hold on," she said as she pressed a button on the intercom.

"Mister Daniels?"

"Yes?" came the response.

"Mister Dunn is here to see you. Would you like me to send him in?"

"Yes please, Missus Eldritch, thank you."

"Go on in, deary," she said with another warm smile.

He thanked her and opened one of the large mahogany double doors. The headmaster was seated behind his desk, and as Miles entered, he looked up from his paperwork and offered Miles a seat in one of the two chairs set up in front of the desk.

"Ah, Mister Dunn, nice to see you, sir, how may I help you?"

"I was interested in going to the town for some errands," Miles said as he sat, "I was told that there are faculty vehicles available to use."

Mr. Daniels smiled.

"Of course, we have several that you can use. You are welcome to take one of our faculty vans for as long as you need it, but you have to log it out and back in when you return."

"Yes sir, I only plan on being out for a few hours."

"That will be fine. When you log the vehicle out, you will notice two small boxes; one is to record the mileage, and the other is to record the gas level. If you log a vehicle out and notice either one to be off from the log, it is your responsibility to report it to one of the senior staff members before you leave the campus. You are not permitted to take any vehicles out-of-state unless you have cleared it with me first. Also take care to put some gas back for the next user."

"Okay, that's fair. I was planning on going to the Savannah Mall in Georgia. Is that a problem?"

"Of course not, as long as I am notified."

"Thanks," Miles smiled.

"Another thing; the vehicles have total insurance coverage, but you will have to pay for any tickets you may receive while you are out."

"I understand."

The headmaster opened one of his drawers and removed a form, which he handed to Miles.

"Good. Your driving license has already been recorded, so all that's left is for you to fill out this release waiver."

Miles took the form and used the pen that the headmaster offered to fill it out. It was simple enough; name, birthdate, social security number, a few boxes to check that reviewed the rules, and a place at the bottom to sign his name. Mister Daniels returned just as he finished signing his name.

"Alright, that's all then," Daniels said, as he glanced over the finished form, "The vehicle log is on a clipboard that is hanging on the wall near the mailboxes in Missus Eldritch's office. Put your name down beneath one of them, along with the time, and Missus Eldritch will give you the keys."

"Okay, thank you."

Miles stood to leave, but hesitated.

"Is there anything else I may do for you?" the headmaster asked with a raised eyebrow. "Um 3; actually, yes. One of the prefects approached me and asked if I could give him a ride into town. He said it should be fine as long as he cleared it with you first."

"I see," Daniels said.

The headmaster tented his fingers in front of him and seemed to be thinking something over.

Finally, he clucked his tongue and answered.

"Under normal circumstances, I would ask that the staff work here for at least three months before I would allow them to take a student off campus. However, you have an outstanding record with the military, and from what I can tell, you have a decent amount of common sense. Therefore, because it is an older student, I'm going to allow you to take him off campus for the afternoon – provided that you ensure his safe return no later than dinner time. Say 3; five o'clock."

"Alright, sir, I'll make sure we are back in time. Thank you, sir."

"Very well."

And, with a nod of his head, Mr. Daniels returned to his paperwork. Miles thanked him and left the office, closing the door behind him. He gave Missus Eldritch a quick smile as he walked past her, which she returned. Miles picked up the clipboard and scanned the list of available vans, settling on the white three-year-old GMC Savana with 56,763 miles [91,349 km] on it. He noted that the last gas level box had ¾ tank written in sloppy handwriting, and that the last person to use the car was 'T. Cruise', who had used it the previous Sunday. Miles filled his name in the next open space and checked his watch – 10:02. He wrote "10:30" in the log out box.

"Going to town for the afternoon?" Missus Eldritch asked in a cheery voice.

"Yes ma'am," Miles replied as he turned toward the elderly secretary, "Mister Daniels said that I should ask you for the keys?"

"Yes, that's correct. Which van?"

"The white twenty-sixteen Savana."

"Alright, there should be a number written before the make and model."

Miles checked the clipboard and read off the number to her while she opened a desk drawer and rummaged through it for the correct key.

"Two-five-F-one-three-six-one-one."

"Alrighty, Mister Dunn, here you are."

She handed him a key connected to a white diamond-shaped fob with the number written on it. "Thanks much, Missus Eldritch."

"Do you know where the faculty vehicles are?"

"No, I guess that would help," Miles joked.

Missus Eldritch laughed.

"They're kept on the side lot, across from the shop class building. You'll see a little archway in the stone wall, and the faculty parking lot is through there."

"Thanks again."

"You're Welcome, deary. Enjoy your afternoon off."

Miles left and headed back for Bear dorm. The day was warm and sunny, the air had a sweet fragrance to it, and birds were singing from the treetops. In the distance, he could hear the joyful shouts of students as their parents picked them up. It was the perfect sort of day to go out cruising around. It would have been nice to have a convertible, to drive with the top down, but unfortunately, he was stuck with a large passenger van.

Miles went to his room and picked up his paycheck, hoping that the bank would be open so that he could cash it. Perhaps he would consider opening up an account while he was there – if he had the time. If the local bank was closed, he still had his Visa and a little cash with him, though he hated to put things on credit anymore. After he had finished paying off his surgery and post-op rehabilitation fees – and also his gambling debts – he had promised himself that he would only use the card for emergencies.

After gathering up the few bills from his sock drawer – a grand total of forty-three bucks, Miles splashed on a little cologne and headed back across the campus to Eagle dorm. A few of the weekenders were playing basketball in front of the gym, and they waved at him as he walked past.

Miles felt good knowing that he was starting to fit in at the school. Before arriving at Saint Xavier, he had been worried that the kids wouldn't like him, but they all seemed to be accepting him. Well, almost all of them, anyway.

Miles arrived at Eagle dorm and asked one of the younger students where Arthur's room was. The kid gave him an odd look, but pointed it out to him anyway. Miles knocked on the door and found the prefect shirtless and rubbing deodorant under his arms. His hair was damp from the shower he must have just taken, and as Miles stepped into the room, he could smell the overwhelming odor of Axe body wash and deodorant. The reek nearly made his eyes water.

"Wow, did you fall into a river of cologne?"

"Hey Mister Dunn," Arthur laughed, "what can I say? There might be some ladies at the mall."

"Well if they aren't attracted to Axe body wash, you can follow them around and wait for the scent to knock them unconscious." Arthur laughed again.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah, be ready in a minute. I just gotta find a good shirt."

After ten minutes of searching, the 'good shirt' that Arthur finally landed on was a black one that had cursive writing going upwards at an angle and an outline of a blue skull with wings. Teenagers, Miles thought as he shook his head.

"Does my hair look alright?"

"Yeah," Miles said, watching the boy look in the mirror as he finger-combed it. "looks great."

"Cool, I'm ready then."

"Alright, but we're driving with the windows down. They'll have to fumigate the upholstery as it is, to get the fragrance out."

Another chuckle from the boy, and they were on their way. Arthur pointed out the small stone archway that separated the shop class from the faculty parking lot, which was on the opposite side of the stone wall that surrounded the campus. The lot had about ten cars parked along the edge, along with several large vans and two school buses. A three-foot [1 m] wrought iron fence enclosed the lot from the visitor parking lot and the circular driveway where the parents waited to pick up their kids. A twelve-foot [3½ m] long gate that swung inwards had to be unlatched and opened to leave the faculty lot. A sign on the outside of the gate read "Saint Xavier Faculty Parking Lot, No Unauthorized Parking" while another sign on the inside read "Please Remember To Close The Gate Behind You."

Miles sent Arthur to open the gate while he climbed into the Savana and started it. Before putting it in drive, he checked to make sure that the mileage and gas levels were both correct. Satisfied that they matched, Miles slowly drove the van through the gate and stopped as he waited for Arthur to close and latch it.

"Ahhh, freedom!" Arthur said as he hopped back into the passenger seat.

Miles rolled all the windows down so that he wouldn't pass out from the overpowering stench of the prefect's cologne. They passed through the patch of trees that separated the school from the outside world, and were soon cruising through the beautiful rolling countryside. It felt exactly like leaving seclusion, which was an odd feeling. At Saint Xavier, the outside world seemed so distant. Once you left the campus and the woods around it, it came all back. It was the first time he left the school since his arrival almost a week ago, and he felt some pressure being lifted from his shoulders. The sun shone a little brighter, the air smelled sweeter, and the bird songs were prettier. Arthur had hit the nail on the head; it felt like freedom.

The two were silent for the first few miles of the trip, each lost in his own thoughts. The morning was so nice, Miles didn't even think of turning on the radio. Instead, they sat in contemplative silence while the countryside whizzed by outside their windows.

***

Milo Hughes was waiting anxiously beside Anthony. Milo had never been to Mr. Thorvald's mansion, and he had no idea how much fun was in store for them. Anthony was excitedly telling him not to worry.

"It's lots of fun, really," the young boy was saying, "you're gonna love it!"

"What's it like at Mister Thorvald's?"

"Mister Thorvald? He's really nice, I think he just likes to have kids over because he never had any of his own. He likes to hang out with us. He got a swimming pool, a real movie theater, and, like, every video game you can think of. He even has these, like, candy machines that don't take any money. You can eat whatever you want, it's so awesome!"

"Will it be okay? He's not like, gonna hurt me or anything, is he?" Anthony laughed.

"Hell naw! Trust me, by Monday morning you'll want to come back every weekend!"

The black limousine pulled up to the curb, and Anthony nodded his head toward it. "There's mister Thorvald's chauffeur, Max. Come on, let's go."

The tall chauffeur stepped out of the long stretch limo and walked around to the rear passenger door. As the duo approached, he smiled politely at them.

"Good morning, gentlemen, are you ready to go?"

"Yep," said Anthony enthusiastically.

Mr. Thorvald always sent a limo with a chauffeur to pick up his guests, usually Max. It was all part of the fun of going to the mansion, and he said the boys should ride in style. Anthony wasn't going to complain; the limo was awesome. It had wavy ultraviolet rope lights and a mirrored ceiling, a big screen TV, an aquarium filled with colorful tropical fish, and a bar. Mr. Thorvald removed the alcohol from the bar whenever students were coming over – much to some of the kids' dismay, but he would always stock it with different brands of soda for them.

They climbed into the car and the chauffeur closed the door gently behind them. Anthony plopped himself down on the back bench seat, propping his legs up beside him to stretch out. Milo took one of the swivel seats in the center. Anthony watched Milo carefully; the boy was looking around the car in a nervous awe. His attention was caught by the aquarium, complete with fish and decorum that was integrated in the door of the luxury car. Perhaps feeling a little better, Milo tapped on the glass of the aquarium, giggling as the nearest fish quickly swam away, startled.

"Hey, lookit that one. It looks like Dory from Finding Nemo."

"Cool, huh?"

"Yeah, way cool. First time I've ever seen anything like that. You know the chauffeur? He looks like an intimidating guy," said Milo.

"It's Max," answered Anthony, "he does everything for Mister Thorvald. He's kinda like a bodyguard, too. He's even got a gun!"

"Have you ever seen it?"

"Yeah, once before, when I went to Mister Thorvald's. He keeps it in, like, this holster thing that is hidden under his jacket. He's pretty friendly, though."

Anthony lay back in the leather seat and stretched his legs. He really liked Mr. Thorvald; the man was very kind and treated him almost like family. Ivor, as he sometimes allowed the boys to call him, had a very large mansion with acres of fenced property surrounding it. His noble abode was the kind of place that a boy's dreams were made of.

They drove for about an hour, the two boys talking excitedly about all the fun things to do at Mr. Thorvald's. Anthony felt the usual giddiness bubbling up from his stomach as they rounded the hill and the mansion came into view. An eight-foot-tall [2½ m] security fence, whose pointed bars curved outwards slightly at the top, surrounded the property. Beyond this fence lay twenty-five acres [10 ha] worth of rolling hills and trees. Anthony knew that at the back end of the property, on the opposite side of the front gate, was a dirt track for ATV's and dirt bikes.

As the driver pulled up to the front gate, he pressed a button on a remote that was clipped to his sun visor, and the gate split open. Anthony looked out the tinted window as they passed the RFID intercom and security camera that was placed inside the brick column. Once the limo was through, the gate gently closed behind them, and Anthony felt his heart beat quicken with the excitement and fun that was in store for them.

The driveway stretched up a hill and ended in a circle in front of the mansion, which was about a hundred yards from the front gate. There was a fountain and some ornate topiary set upon a large mound of grass in the center of the circular driveway. Anthony thought the mansion's façade resembled the White House, the way the four Ionic columns held up the pointed pediment above the front entrance and the lantern hung down from above. A swan neck pediment with an ornamental festoon sat above the large mahogany double-doors, which promoted the image of the White House in Anthony's mind.

Although the front facade was white marble, the rest of the mansion was made of brick. Seven chimney stacks sat atop the building, four to the right and three to the left. There were two balconies on opposite sides in the front of the mansion; each one shared by two adjoining bedrooms. On the far right end was a fair-sized greenhouse. To the left of the mansion was an unattached twenty-car garage. This was where Mr. Thorvald kept his thirteen expensive cars, as well as a few four-wheelers and the dirt bikes. It was Musgrove Manor, in all its glory, although it had another name also for those who came on a special purpose; Zeus' den.

Inside the garage, the cars ranged from an old 1932 Ford Coupe, to a brand new 2019 Lamborghini HuracĂĄn Spyder. Mr. Thorvald loved his cars, and Anthony had heard him talk many times about the various car shows he would go to. "Why, there's close to three million dollars' worth of cars in that garage." Thorvald was known to say. The man loved classic muscle cars, but he also had a soft spot for modern exotic cars. Anthony wasn't really into cars much, but he did enjoy it when Mr. Thorvald would take him for a ride in one.

The limo pulled up to the curb in front of the mansion and the chauffeur stepped out. He opened the door for Anthony and Milo, and then hurried up the five steps to open the front door for them. The boys crossed the threshold and stepped inside; Milo's eyes wide as he gazed around the magnificent foyer, while Anthony's eyes darted towards the direction of the kitchen. He was hungry, and he knew exactly what type of treats Mr. Thorvald would have waiting for them.

"Mister Thorvald," the chauffeur said into an intercom on the wall, "your young guests have arrived."

A door opened somewhere on the second floor, and a second later, Mr. Thorvald appeared from around a corner.

"Well, Anthony! How've you been? Good to see you again!"

"Hi Mister Thorvald," Anthony said as a grin broke out upon his face. "And this must be Milo; pleased to meet you, young man."

"H 3; hello."

The southern gentleman walked down the left staircase wearing a warm smile. As he reached the bottom, Anthony ran up to him and threw his arms around the man, hugging him tightly.

"There's my boy! School treating you well, young pup?"

"Yes sir, it's alright."

"Glad to hear it."

The man extended his hand to Milo, who took it timidly.

"Don't worry, son, I ain't gonna bite."

"Milo's a little nervous, although I

told him there was nothing to be nervous about," explained Anthony.

"Well, that's alright, Master Milo. There's nothin' to worry about here. Just make yourself to home and have fun. You guys hungry?"

"Yep!" said Anthony.

"A little," answered Milo.

"Now, that's what I like to hear! Growin' boys and all 3; follow me into the kitchen and I'll whip ya'll up something real nice."

As they followed him to the large kitchens, Anthony nudged Milo.

"See?" he whispered, "I toldja you had nothing to worry about. Mister Thorvald's nice and you're going to have a great time!"

Milo nodded at Anthony, but still wasn't entirely sure. The man seemed nice and had a magnificent home, but Milo was a bit shy around new people, and sometimes looks could be deceiving.

***

The kid wouldn't shut up. After the brief period of peaceful silence, Arthur Banks had begun to talk about his many exploits with the opposite sex, most of which seemed embellished, if not completely made up. He hadn't shut up about girls for the last twenty minutes. It was all Miles fault, after some small talk, he had made the mistake of asking if Arthur had a girlfriend.

"Then this one time last year," he said as he placed his foot on the dashboard, "when I was on summer break from school, me and my best friend were skateboarding out front of the mall, when these two chicks came up to us. 'You're pretty good at that,' she told me, 'do ya know any other tricks?' 'Yeah,' I said, 'I know tons.' Then she goes, 'I mean, like, aside from skateboarding.' Next thing I know, me and my buddy are over at her friend's house, my friend in her bedroom and me in the parent's room, and I'm balls deep in this chick. Screwin' her like there was no tomorrow, know what I mean?"

"Uh huh," Miles answered unenthusiastically.

"'Course you know, I mean, you were in the military; I'll bet you had, like, a million chicks hangin' all over you."

"Something like that."

"Anyway, so I'm just about to pull out so I can bust my nut on her titties, when her friend comes burstin' into the room. 'My parents are home,' she goes, 'ya'll gotta get outta here!' Just then, I came and blew it all over the chick on the bed. So I jump off her and yank my pants up, and she's just sittin' there, lookin' all shocked and stuff with my nut drippin' down her chest. Me and my friend go runnin' out the back door just as her parents are coming in the front door. Only thing is, when me and the girl started making out, we started in the living room. I took her top and her bra off and left it there on the couch.

So while her friend's parents are comin' in through the living room, she's gotta walk past 'em to get her shirt and stuff. Boy, what I woulda given to see the look on their faces when she ran through the living room with a buncha cum all over her bare tits."

Arthur guffawed and slapped his knee as though the mental image was the funniest thing he could imagine. Apparently, the boy seemed to think that the stories would impress Miles, who was actually rather bored by them. It had worked on his two friends though.

"So what was the girl's name?" Miles interrupted. "Her name?"

"Yeah, you did get her name before you started having sex with her, right?"

"Uh 3; yeah, it was 3; um 3; Cindy."

"Cindy?" Miles asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Er 3; yeah, Cindy. And her friend's name was Jen. Man, you wouldn't be-lieve the knockers on that chick; Cindy, I mean. She had this, like, ginger hair and green eyes. She shaved her pussy, though, so I dunno if the carpet matched the drapes."

"Mhmm."

"I never did see her again, but then there was this other time-"

"Looks like we're here," Miles interrupted him.

The sign beside the highway read "Savannah City Limit, Population: 152,352". Arthur looked at the sign, then back at Miles.

"Yeah, the mall's in the center of town. Do you know how to get there?"

"No idea, you'll have to navigate."

"Okay, it's pretty easy; just follow this road until you get to Abercorn Street, then turn right. The Oglethorpe Mall is like, two miles [3 km] down from there."

"Alright, let me know when the road is coming up."

Thankfully, that was enough to keep the prefect quiet until they finally pulled up to the shopping mall. Miles parked the car and got out. Arthur closed his door and came around the van towards Miles.

"So, uh, what time did you, like, wanna meet back up or whatever?"

"Well, let's see," Miles pulled his smart phone from his pocket and checked the time, "it's about ten after eleven now, and we have to be back at Saint Xavier's before dinner. Why don't we meet back around 3; four?"

"Alright, sounds good," Arthur said with a smile before turning towards the mall.

***

"No! You killed me again!"

Anthony once again had delivered a single headshot to Milo's character with his sniper rifle, killing him instantly.

"How can you do that when you're running around the map like that?"

"It's called 'quickscoping'," Anthony said with a champion grin.

"How do you do it?"

"It's all about timing. You gotta know exactly where on the screen the crosshair is going to appear before it does, and stop moving. Then, shoot at the exact same time that you scope in. You also gotta lead your enemy a little bit or you'll miss."

"It sounds hard."

"It is," Anthony agreed, "it takes, like, a ton of practice."

Milo hit the 'A' button and his character respawned. They were playing the newest Call of Duty game on two PlayStation 5's, and Anthony was beating Milo by a wide margin. Anthony chuckled to himself; Milo's strategy was to run out into the open and try to spray him down with a hail of automatic fire. Whenever he would do this, Anthony would duck behind cover and wait for the boy's magazine to empty. When Milo was forced to reload, Anthony would pop out and quickscope him with a single shot. It couldn't be easier.

Although he was the better strategist, Anthony decided that perhaps he should let Milo kill him a few times now, since the boy was getting visibly agitated. It was one thing to be a killwhore in an online lobby, but it was different when you were playing with a friend. You had to let them win sometimes, or they wouldn't want to play with you anymore.

As Anthony directed his soldier behind the side of a building, he caught sight of Milo's player, once again running straight through the center of the open map. He just doesn't learn to use cover, Anthony thought. This time, however, instead of popping up and killing Milo again, Anthony pretended that he hadn't seen Milo, and left the safety of the building. As predicted, Milo opened fire, sending a hail of bullets his way. Milo wasn't a very good shot against a moving target, and he only managed to land one hit on Anthony before emptying his mag and being forced to reload.

Anthony could feel the boy's muscles tense up beside him as the boy panicked, desperately trying to reload before the fatal kill shot came. Anthony hip-fired a shot wide, trying not to be too obvious that he was giving Milo time to insert another mag. Milo opened fire again, and this time Anthony's player was struck another three times, killing him.

"Yeah!" Milo pumped his fist into the air, "I got you!"

"Lucky shot," Anthony said.

"Naw man, that was all skill!"

Anthony respawned and once more began to hunt Milo down, choosing his path carefully and sticking to the shady areas of the map as much as possible. Anthony had played the game hundreds of times before, whereas this was Milo's first time. The score was sixteen to seven and there was only about five minutes left in the match. Maybe I should just let him win this round, Anthony thought. As he directed his character around the corner, he ran down the center of the map, allowing Milo to kill him again.

"Hey, you're getting pretty good at this," he reassured Milo. "Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of it."

Behind Anthony, Mr. Thorvald watched them play the game. The flat screens the boys were playing on were back-to-back and each boy sat across from each other in rocking gaming chairs. That way, they couldn't see the other's screen.

Anthony picked up the can of Mountain Dew beside him and took a swig before spawning back in. He let out a loud belch that made Mr. Thorvald laugh.

"Why Anthony, you're becoming quite the pig," Thorvald chuckled. "Oink oink," answered Anthony, which made Thorvald laugh harder. "Whatta you boys wanna do when ya'll are finished with the match?"

Milo looked at his host and shrugged his shoulders before turning his concentration back on the game.

"I dunno, maybe we can watch a movie or something."

"Why, that sounds just fine. I just got a copy of the newest Avengers movie, if you wanna see

that."

"Infinity War? But that's still out in theaters," Milo said.

"I know," Thorvald said with a knowing grin, "I got my ways."

After a few more deaths, the game ended. Anthony had won, but the score was close; twenty to eighteen. It had bored Anthony to purposefully lose so many times, but at least now, Milo wouldn't be discouraged from playing again later. The boys turned their respective consoles off using the wireless controllers, and then got up and followed Thorvald to the large movie theater.

When they entered, Milo's jaw dropped. From the look on his face, he hadn't expected to watch the unreleased film inside a full-sized theater. Anthony clapped him on the back before walking over to a vending machine to get himself a pack of Skittles.

"Holy crap, you have a real life movie theater 3; in your house!"

"Sure do, kiddo. It has surround sound and heated seats, too."

"Wow 3;"

"Pick out your seats, guys, and I'll go make some popcorn and start the movie."

The boys walked to the back row and sat down. Within minutes, the tangy smell of buttered popcorn drifted into the room. Anthony knew that Mr. Thorvald had a genuine Theater Popcorn Machine in the hallway, one that never burned a single kernel. A few more minutes passed, and then the lights dimmed and the projector sprang to life. As the upcoming trailers rolled, Thorvald came back in, carrying two large buckets of buttered popcorn. He handed one to Milo, and the other to Anthony.

"If ya don't mind, boys, I prefer sitting in the middle," Thorvald said with a twinkle in his eye, "that way, I have two young men on either side of me in case I get scared."

The boys laughed and Anthony moved down a seat to allow Thorvald to squeeze into the seat between them. The next trailer played, showing a group of people being hunted by dinosaurs.

"Jurassic World Two, I wanna see that," Milo piped up when the title appeared.

"Well, you're welcome to come on back in a month or two after I have a copy, and we can watch

it."

"Really? Thanks!"

The preview ended and the movie began. The eyes of all three viewers were glued to the screen as the Marvel logo flashed and faded out. Milo took a handful of popcorn from his bucket and crammed it into his mouth, spilling a few kernels on the floor. As the film began, the boy was mesmerized, not taking his eyes off of the large screen for a second.

Anthony shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth as well, and then he felt Mr. Thorvald's hand rest on his thigh. He glanced up and found that the man was still watching the movie. He had been here before and knew all about Thorvald's preferences – in fact, he had been wondering when the real reason they were here would start.

As the hand gently squeezed his leg, Anthony spread his legs apart wider, giving the man access to his crotch. Thorvald kept his eyes on the screen, but his hand slid up and gently squeezed the small bulge in Anthony's shorts. Anthony shoveled another handful of popcorn into his mouth as Thorvald's finger teased the elastic waistband of his boxers, and then slipped inside. Anthony could feel the warmth of the man's hand as it closed around his boyhood. The hand slowly started to rub him up and down, and Anthony leaned back in his seat as he began to stiffen.

Beside them, Milo had no clue what they were doing. The theater was dark, and the boy's attention was focused solely on the action on screen. He had no clue that a couple of feet away from him, Anthony was receiving a slow, steady, hand job from their host. He didn't even turn away from the screen until Anthony let out a soft gasp as he came, but because the tub of popcorn was in Anthony's lap, Milo thought it was only from a particularly exciting scene in the movie.

Thorvald squeezed the boy's throbbing cocklet and raked upwards, catching the small amount of cum between his fingers. He then removed his hand from Anthony's shorts and brought it to his mouth, where he greedily licked the dripping seed from his fingers. When they were clean, he turned to Milo and smiled.

"Enjoyin' the movie so far?"

"Yep," Milo said as he munched on some popcorn. "That's good, I like when you boys are happy."

Ivor felt his erection throbbing. He needed no release yet; in fact, he loved that feeling of anticipation and wanted it to last for as long as possible. Knowing that when it came, his pleasure would be heightened. The trio watched the rest of the movie in relative silence and when the ending credits began to roll, Thorvald stood and stretched.

"Why don't you guys follow me? I got something I'd like to show you, Milo."

The boys stood and followed Thorvald out of the theater. He took them back through the house and out the large glass rear doors. They stepped out onto a beautiful patio garden that gave a breathtaking view of the Port Royal countryside. The entire patio was about three thousand square feet [300 m²] and surrounded by a waist-high stone wall with a short black iron railing on top.

A wooden overhang, held up by ivy-covered stone columns, shaded the first fifty feet [15 m]. There was a large stone fireplace on one end, and an expensive looking gas grill on the other. Various patio furniture was placed amidst the elaborate topiary. At the far end of the patio, there was a pool. It was a stone, inground, mountain lake shaped, swimming pool, complete with a stone waterfall, curved slide, and a spillover Jacuzzi. When Milo's mouth dropped open at the sight, Thorvald laughed and clapped him on the back.

"Whattya think, Milo?"

"It's 3; it's 3; amazing!"

"Glad ya like it."

Thorvald led them to the edge of the pool and the three gazed down into the crystal clear water. "How'd you boys like to go for a swim?"

"Yeah!" Milo said excitedly, then his face darkened a little, "but I didn't bring any swimming trunks or a towel."

Thorvald laughed his hearty laugh again.

"I got towels inside that you can use. As for swimming trunks, why, you can just do without. I used to do it all the time back when I was a young'n, we called it 'skinny-dipping'."

Anthony was already stripping off his shirt, but Milo looked a little unsure.

"I dunno," he said.

"Nothin' to worry about, little buddy, we're all guys here. Ya haven't got nothin' I ain't seen a hundred times before."

"Come on, Milo," Anthony said as he stepped out of his shorts.

Thorvald watched delightedly as Anthony removed his underwear next and took a running leap into the pool.

"It feels great! The water's nice and warm! Hurry up Milo!"

Milo looked from Anthony to Thorvald. He looked like he wanted to, but he still seemed a little hesitant about taking his clothes off in front of a grownup, especially one he had just met.

"Um 3; do you think you can maybe turn around?" he asked in a meek voice. "Why, sure thing," Thorvald chuckled.

The man turned away and Milo quickly stripped out of his clothing. The sound of a large splash let Thorvald know that it was okay to turn back around again. At his feet lay a pile of the boy's clothes, and through the water he could see the blurry shapes of two naked boys in the pool. They laughed as they splashed each other, then Thorvald got a very nice view of Anthony's little anus and the heart- shaped scrotum below it as the boy turned and dove beneath the water. He did a small somersault and reemerged laughing.

"Move on over, boys, I'm comin' in!"

Thorvald unbuttoned his Hawaiian shirt and hung it over a nearby patio lounger. He stepped out of his sandals and removed his khaki shorts and boxers, then strode confidently to the edge of the pool. Both boys were watching him, and he was especially pleased to notice that Milo was staring at his cock. Thorvald liked to joke with his friends that he was 'hung like a baby's arm holding a plum', and he certainly wasn't far off.

"CANNONBAAAAAALL!!"

He jumped into the air and brought his knees up as high as they would go, wrapping his arms around him. He hit the water with a great SPLASH and resurfaced to find the boys laughing with delight. He swam across to Anthony and placed his hands on the youth's head, dipping him below the water. He could feel the boy's lips brush his cock, which made it twitch. Anthony started to wrap his mouth around the large purple head, but Thorvald quickly grasped him beneath the armpit and yanked him back up. Not yet, he thought, Milo isn't ready to see that yet. I'll have to work on him a little more first.

Picking Anthony up out of the water, they laughed together as he launched the boy backwards into the air, enjoying the view as Anthony's little cock waved about in the air before splashing back into the pool. As Anthony recovered, Thorvald turned to Milo.

"Don't think you're gonna get away that easily," he said as he swam after the giggling child.

Milo turned and tried to swim away, but the man was too fast for him. First, he grabbed the boy's heel, and then followed it with a well-placed grab around the boy's hips. He could feel the softness of the boy's penis beneath his fingers as he pulled the laughing child towards him. That's it, little bit at a time; you don't want to scare him. He wrapped his arms around Milo, turning the boy around to face him. As he slid his hands up the boy's body and hooked them beneath the armpits, he subtly brought the boy closer until his large cock was brushing against the kid's body.

"You ready?"

"Yep!"

Thorvald lifted the boy into the air, but before he let go he pretended that he hadn't gotten enough momentum. The boy dangled momentarily in the air, his hairless penis inches away from Thorvald's face.

"Oomph, sorry. Didn't lift you fast enough. You're a heavy bugger, ya know that?"

Milo, unaware that Thorvald was merely doing this to get a good look at his cock, laughed at the man's feigned ineptitude. Thorvald gave that adorable little cocklet one more glance, then brought the boy back down. This time, as he lifted the boy, he held the youngster's body closer to his own so that Milo was physically sliding up against him. As he tossed the kid backwards, he grazed his face across the hairless penis. Keep it subtle until he gets used to it, that's the way.

Before Milo reemerged, Thorvald shot Anthony a quick wink and mouthed the words "wrestle." He nodded, and as Milo came back up, Anthony started swimming frantically towards Thorvald.

"Wrestlemania!" he shouted as he sprang up and tackled Thorvald.

They dove beneath the water, turning in a barrel roll as they pretended to struggle. Anthony planted a kiss on Thorvald's lips, and the man grabbed the boy's butt cheeks and gave them a little squeeze. Anthony wrapped his legs around Thorvald's waist, then reached down and grabbed hold of the large cock. As they turned another barrel roll, Anthony brushed the head of Thorvald's cock back and forth across his bum hole. They rose back into the air and pretended to be grappling.

"Help me, Milo! Let's take him down!"

Milo swam over to them and Thorvald felt the boy's hands on his shoulders. The youth mounted his back, and together, he and Anthony tried to topple him back beneath the surface.

"Help! They're tryin' ta drown me!"

The boys laughed gleefully in his ears as he struggled to stay standing. Finally, he lost his balance and they all went under. He turned barrel rolls, acting as though he were struggling against them while he enjoyed being sandwiched between their nude bodies. He quickly kissed Anthony, and then pushed the boy off him. Left with only Milo clinging to his back, Thorvald spun and disentangled himself from the boy, then turned and grabbed hold of him. As he lifted himself out of the water, he delicately placed his hands on the boy's butt, holding him close. Milo responded intuitively, wrapping his arms around Thorvald's neck and his legs around the waist. Together they emerged from the water this way, laughing.

"Why, you little traitor!" He said, as he resisted the urge to kiss the boy passionately. "You're gonna be sorry for that!"

Holding the child against himself firmly, he dove back under the water and started to spin again.

Anthony approached and climbed onto his back, and the three of them continued to wrestle under the water while Thorvald concentrated on his subtle hand placement; a mere brush of the genitals here, a gentle squeeze of a cheek there, always carefully avoiding any obvious direct contact.

Now that Milo seemed to be less bashful, he suggested that they try out the slide. Thorvald swam to the edge of the pool and turned on the water pump. Milo climbed out, giving Thorvald the most magnificent view of his small pink anus, perineum, and his smooth balls. He watched as the boy mounted the ladder, and then readied himself at the top of the slide.

"I'm the king of the world!" the boy shouted as he raised his arms and pushed off.

The stream of the jets took the boy by surprise, causing him to slip backwards. He flew down the slide on his back, with his arms and legs spread apart in the air. Thorvald and Anthony laughed as Milo splashed into the water. The boy surfaced with an award-winning grin plastered over his face.

"That was awesome!"

While Anthony clambered out of the pool, Thorvald swam to Milo. Time to take things up a notch, he thought as he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. Ducking down a bit, he ran an arm between the boy's legs from behind and scooped his hand around the boy's crotch. He slid his other arm over the slender shoulder towards the chest, and then lifted the boy out of the water. He draped Milo across his shoulders in a reverse fireman's carry position.

"Now I gotcha!"

Milo squirmed with glee, his legs and arms flailing in the air, while Thorvald gave his genitals a soft squeeze. While Anthony splashed into the water behind him, Thorvald started to spin in circles, keeping his hand on the boy's precious jewels for as long as possible. Finally, after four spins, he lifted the giggling child off his shoulders and tossed him into the air.

While Milo came back down to Earth, Anthony swam beside Thorvald. Ivor felt the boy's hand wrap around his cock and begin to rub. This time, instead of stopping it, Thorvald allowed him to stroke. Milo sprang out of the water and quickly swam back to the sliding board, temporarily ignoring the other two. As he watched the nude boy raise himself out of the pool, Thorvald's hand went down to find Anthony's cocklet, and he returned the favor.

By the time Milo went down the slide and reemerged, both Thorvald and Anthony were hard. Thorvald whispered to Anthony to climb out of the pool, and the boy did as directed. Ivor noticed that Milo gazed quizzically at the boy's erection waving before him as he stood at the edge of the pool.

"Heh, well looky there. Anthony's got himself a little hard-on." Ivor said as he approached the edge of the pool.

After he had climbed out, he turned to allow Milo a view of his own rock-hard erection. He purposefully stood on top of Milo's clothing, dripping water onto them.

"Looks like I got one myself."

Milo looked a little uncertain, as though he wasn't sure quite how to react. Ivor turned and headed into the house, muttering to Anthony as he passed by; "Help put Milo at ease." He retrieved three towels from the house, and then returned to find Anthony talking quietly to Milo.

"Trust me," Anthony was saying, "it's really nice. Mister Thorvald always takes good care of us, and that's all he asks in return. It's totally worth it."

Ivor tossed Anthony a towel, and placed another beside Milo's clothing. He used the third to dry himself off.

"Come on out, Milo, there's something else I'd like to show you."

Milo still looked a bit uneasy, but he reluctantly swam to the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out. He picked up the towel that was waiting for him and quickly dried himself off with it. Then, he wrapped it around his waist.

'Er 3; sorry Milo, but it looks like your clothes are a little wet. I'll throw 'em in the dryer in the house; in the meantime, I got something else you can wear."

He turned and walked back towards the house, and the two boys followed. Anthony, who was still erect, threw his towel over his shoulder, then put a hand on Milo's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze to reassure him that everything was okay. When they got inside, Ivor rummaged through a side closet near the back doors. From it he pulled two costumes, one a white hooded acolyte's alb, the other a lederhosen shorts and breeches.

"Okay boys, who gets what?" Ivor said as he held them up. Milo didn't say anything at first, so Ivor prodded him.

"Go on, Milo, I'll let you pick which one you'd rather wear."

The boy's eyes darted back and forth between the two garments. Finally, without saying a word, he lifted his finger and pointed at the acolyte's alb.

"Good choice," Ivor said as he handed Anthony the lederhosen shorts, "come on over here, and I'll show you how to put it on."

Milo approached him warily while Anthony tossed his towel aside and immediately began to get into his costume. Ivor smiled at Milo as he undid the boy's towel and let it drop to the floor. Milo's hands self-consciously went to his crotch to cover himself, but Ivor shook his head.

"Don't get all bashful on me now; I've already seen what you got down there. Don't worry, son, I think you're gonna like wearing this costume."

Ivor opened the robe and slipped it over the boy's shoulders. Milo allowed the man to guide his arms through the sleeves, then, after tilting his head for a final look over the boy's body, Ivor closed the front of the robes in the middle. He then picked up the rope cincture, wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, and brought the knotted rope around to the front. He continued to wrap it several times around Milo's waist, and then tied it in the front. The front of the alb wasn't overlapped, so that the split in the middle would open slightly whenever the boy walked, revealing the precious treasures that lay underneath.

"There, I'd say it looks good on ya."

Anthony was already in his costume, and he gave Milo a playful slap on the back. "You look like a priest or somethin'," Anthony teased.

Across the large foyer, the front door opened and a familiar face appeared. Anthony looked at the new arrival and frowned.

"What's he doing here?"

Greg shut the door behind him and walked across the tiled floor to meet the trio. "Whatsa matter, Ant? I thought we were buds."

Anthony answered him with a silent scowl.

"Now, now, boys," Ivor tsked, "let's play nice. Anthony, will you take Milo to the Ready Room?

I'll be up there in a minute, first I need to talk to Greg privately."

Anthony, still scowling, nodded and led Milo upstairs. Once they were safely out of earshot, Ivor turned to the grinning prefect.

"I thought Carl said that Milo would be ready."

"Oh, he is," Greg replied, "he's just a little shy. Once he gets to know you a little more intimately, he'll warm right up to you."

"I certainly hope so, or the whole weekend will be ruined."

"Don't worry, he's ready. Mister Fisher said so."

Ivor stared hard at the prefect, looking for any doubt behind those steely blue eyes. When he didn't see any, he nodded and started heading up the staircase. From the study, a phone rang and was quickly answered by Thorvald's chauffeur, Max. Ivor paused on the stairs and waited, and a moment later Max appeared in the doorway.

"Pardon me, sir, Mister Caulfield is on the phone, and he says it's urgent."

Dammit, Ivor thought, just when things were about to get good. He trudged back down the stairs and took the wireless phone from Max's hand. Of all the times for an emergency call, now was quite possibly the worst. Ivor groaned as he walked into the study, where Max and Greg could only hear snippets of what he was saying.

***

Greg was smiling. He knew those calls often ended with Ivor going away for a few hours. It meant he would have both boys for himself. No need to share. He tried to listen to what was being said.

"Thorvald here," he said, sounding annoyed, "yes? 3; Can't it wait? I'm rather busy right now 3; Quarantine?! That's impossible! 3; Shanxi flu is still confined to Asia for now 3; I see 3; I see 3; could you repeat that? 3; That's crazy 3; I'll come over, be there in about thirty minutes. Wait for me to get there before you decide anything."

Greg still had a smile on his face as he entered the kitchen and saw Ivor push the off button on the phone and hand it back to Max, who nodded and backed out into the foyer.

"What was that about?" asked Greg.

"Greg," he said, "I've gotta get dressed and take care of some business. Do me a favor while I'm gone; get the boys ready for tonight's activities, especially Milo. I want him nice and relaxed when I return so I don't have to waste any more time."

"With pleasure," Greg grinned.

"Oh, and Greg," Ivor said as they left the kitchen and started mounting the stairs, "don't do anything stupid. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Greg followed him up the stairs and turned left towards the Ready Room. Ivor turned right to go to his bedroom.

***

Luckily, for Miles, the Bank of America inside the Oglethorpe Mall was open until noon. He had tried to open an account, but the banker had told him that it would take about an hour, and because it was already eleven-thirty, he would have to return another time. She did inform him, however, that their branch recognized the school's checks and that he could cash the paycheck for the full amount today. So, after thanking her, Miles got in line behind an overweight woman with two kids to cash his check. He had already been waiting in line for ten minutes as the single teller took customers at the rate that grass grows.

"It's my turn to play Splatoon when we get home," one of the boys beside the woman complained loudly.

"Nuh uh," answered the other, "I'm gonna play!"

"That's not fair, Joey, you played it before we left!"

"Yeah, but I didn't get to finish my game."

"Mooom! Joey said he's gonna play when we get home and it's not fair!"

"Shaddup you two, or neither of you are gonna play," said the tired sounding mother.

The boy named Joey looked about eight and his brother appeared to be about six. Tears began to well up in the younger boy's eyes, threatening to spill over. He scowled at his older brother, who in turn gave him a smug smile. Kid needs to wipe his nose, Miles thought, noticing the slimy trail beneath one of the boy's nostrils.

"Joey's just getting his way because he's older, it's not fair!" the boy said again as he stamped his foot in frustration.

The boy turned away angrily and looked up at Miles, who smiled warmly at him. The kid gave him a questioning look, and then stuck his tongue out at Miles before turning back to his mother and leaning into her leg.

"Joey always gets his way," the boy mumbled.

The bank was stifling, and Miles wondered if they had the heat on. Why is it always so damned hot in queues? Miles thought as he wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead. Ahead of him, the woman and her two offspring walked to the teller. Much to his displeasure, Miles overheard the woman mention something about a bounced check. Oh great, he thought, as he checked the time on his cell phone, I guess this is gonna take all day.

He couldn't believe how stuffy it was in here. Outside the weather was warm and sunny, why the hell would the bank have the heat on? There was a loud cough behind him, and Miles turned to see an old man hocking a loogie into a cloth handkerchief. Behind the old man was a young woman in her early twenties, and behind her was another man that looked to be in his mid-thirties. The woman had her arms folded across her chest and an annoyed look on her face. Miles gave them a polite smile and nodded his head in acknowledgment, but all three ignored him.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall, eleven forty-three. He wondered if the teller would still take customers that had been waiting in line after they officially closed, or if they would be turned away. The teller was going over some slip of paper with the overweight woman, and then said those ever-dreaded words; let me get my manager. Dammit.

The teller left to find somebody in charge while the overweight woman huffed and shifted her weight. The two kids were still arguing about who was going to take the last green lollypop in the bowl beside the teller, and behind Miles, the old man started coughing almost uncontrollably. Miles wiped his forehead as the seconds ticked away on the clock overhead. If I don't get outta here soon, I'm gonna scream!

The teller came back to the window with some member of management who took a look at the line of waiting people and turned around again. He returned with another teller, who quickly opened up another window.

"Next, please," the teller said.

Thank God! Miles thought as he walked up to the teller and handed him the check. "I'd like to cash this, please.â€

"Certainly, sir, do you have an account with us?"

You must be joking.

"Um 3; no, I haven' t had the chance to open one yet. The banker said that you could cash my check without one."

The male teller scanned the front of the check before looking back up at Miles. "Saint Xavier? Sure, I can take care of that for you."

"Thank you," Miles breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll have to see two forms of identification, and you can endorse the back of the check and mark the front with your thumbprint."

The teller reached behind the counter and pulled out a small inkpad, which he placed on the counter between them. Miles withdrew his driver's license and military ID and handed them to the teller, then flipped the check over to sign. When he was finished, he rolled his thumb across the inkpad and left his print on the front. The teller typed some information into his computer, and then took the check.

"How would you like that back?"

"Whatever is easiest for you," Miles answered.

The teller nodded, and opened a drawer beside him. He counted the cash as he took it from the drawer, and then recounted it aloud to Miles as he placed the bills on the counter – a total of five hundred sixty dollars and thirty-five cents.

"Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright then, thank you for using Bank of America."

Miles turned and gratefully left the stuffy bank. His next check would be bigger; although today was payday at Saint Xavier, Miles would have had to wait until the next pay period to get his first check. He had talked to the headmaster about the things he would need this week, however, and Mr.

Daniels had made an exception for him, issuing him a paycheck for his first week of work.

Miles's first stop was at Sears. He needed to buy some toothpaste and toiletries. After browsing for a little while, he also picked up a pair of boots for the horseback riding the following afternoon.

Finally, he bought some locks to put on his office and bedroom doors. He wanted to secure his privacy, and make sure that nobody had access to his laptop, even though it was password protected and his external drives were encrypted.

After his initial shopping was finished, he walked around the mall for a little while, noticing that there were quite a few young boys hanging around; the mall seemed to be a popular place with the town's youth. It wasn't quite summer yet, but it was rather hot out and it was nice to see all those sexy young legs strutting around beneath the shorts that the kids wore.

After the shopping was complete, Miles checked his watch; 14:55. He had about an hour left before he had to meet up with Arthur, so he decided to head over to the shop to pick up some ammunition for his Sig Sauer P226. After checking his phone for nearby shops, he found that the nearest one was called Thunderbolt Guns, LLC, and was located on East Victory Drive. Miles went back to the van and started off for the gun shop.

Thunderbolt Guns was a smallish shotgun-styled house with a gable roof and four thin columns that held up a front porch. Beside this porch, a large American flag attached to a flagpole flapped proudly in the breeze. Miles opened the front door and went inside, and immediately the smell of grease and gunpowder invaded his nostrils.

The place was a gun lover's paradise; immediately to his left was a patio set and small coffee table that faced the counter. Various hunting and gun magazines littered the coffee table, and on the wall behind this was a large wooden gun case that had several rifles displayed behind the glass. To the right was a t-shirt rack in the center of the floor, and the wall surrounding this little alcove had pegs which held various gun oils, ammo bags, cleaning kits, holsters, and various other accessories.

Past the shirt rack on the right was a closed door that led into a smaller room, where the faint popping noises of gunshots could be heard. There were many guns hanging from pegs around the walls, along with other accessories. The glass counter was on the left, and behind this counter was a group of sliding cabinets where the ammo was stored. A portly bald man with a white beard and mustache and wearing a maroon polo shirt stood behind the counter; he greeted Miles in a gruff, yet friendly sounding voice.

"Morning, sir. What can I help you with today?"

"Good morning," Miles answered him, "I'm here to pick up some ammo and look around."

"What kind are ya lookin' for?"

"Nine mil."

The man behind the counter unclipped a keyring from his belt, then bent and unlocked one of the sliding doors.

"Anything in particular?"

Miles approached the counter and glanced over the available boxes of ammunition.

"Can I get four boxes of the one twenty-four grain Freedom Munitions and one box of Federal Hydra-Shoks?"

The man pulled them out and set the boxes on the counter, then shut and locked the door. "D'ya have ID on ya?"

Miles nodded and pulled out his wallet. He selected his military ID and handed it to the clerk, who looked it over and handed it back to him.

"Thank you for your service," the man said with a nod as he rang up the transaction. "Thank you," Miles answered.

He looked past the man at the rifles that were hanging on the wall. He glanced over the various rifles; an AR-15, AK 47, SCAR 17, and the HK293, when his eyes finally settled upon a Steyr AUG A3. As usual, whenever he saw a cute boy or a pretty gun, he could feel his heart rate begin to quicken at the sight of the beautiful rifle. Because Colt manufactured the majority of the weapons that Miles used in the Military, he hadn't really had the chance to fire a bullpup before. The clerk seemed to take notice of this and turned to look at the rifle.

"Like the AUG, do ya?"

"Yes, it looks sexy as hell. I've never had a chance to fire one."

"Tell ya what," the man said as he reached up to lift the rifle from the pegs, "if you're willing to pay a little extra for the ammo, I'll let you test it out in the back."

A smile rose to Miles's lips. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The clerk returned his grin and bent to unlock the sliding cabinet. Miles felt like a kid in a candy store, and from the pep in the clerk's actions, Miles thought that he probably felt the same way. The man placed a box of Federal 5.56 rounds on the counter, then slid open another door and removed a thirty round magazine. When he was finished, he picked up the items and handed them to Miles.

"My RSO is in the back; keep the bolt open and the barrel pointed up until you get to the firing range. Just tap on the glass, he'll let you in."

Miles nodded in agreement and turned towards the door across from the counter. It was slightly ajar, and he prodded it open with his foot. He entered a narrow hallway that stretched towards the rear of the store and turned left. On the walls were pictures of hunters and animals, and there were two restroom doors to the right. Miles walked down the hallway, turned left, and came to a bulletproof glass door that opened outwards.

The room beyond the door was dimly lit, and Miles could see five shooting ranges beyond it. Directly to the right of the door was a chest-high counter top with five metal barstools in front. A pair of men were seated on two of the stools, talking, while one of them was reloading a magazine. One was a heavyset man with a goatee and a maroon staff shirt, the other was a thinner, older man wearing a Browning Realtree camo hat. Miles tapped on the glass with the empty mag he was carrying, and the men turned their heads towards him.

"Hey there," the man with the maroon shirt said as he held open the door for Miles, "Dick send ya back?"

"Yes, he said I could test this out here."

"Takin' out the AUG, huh? Nice choice."

Miles walked past the man and set his load down on the counter-top. The staff member picked up a pair of black shooting earmuffs from a peg on the wall, then dug around in an opened box and removed a pair of safety glasses and offered both to Miles. Miles took them and slipped the earmuffs around his neck.

"My name's Art," the man said as he held out his hand, "have you ever shot here before?"

"No," Miles said as he shook the offered hand, "I'm ex-military and I just took a job at a boarding school as the head of security, something to keep me busy while I transition to civilian life. St Xavier; have you heard of it?"

"Don't think so."

"It's in South Carolina."

"Well, thank you for your service, sir, I'm sure the school is better for havin' ya. I'm ex-Army myself, what branch were ya with?"

"Marines." Art chuckled.

"A Jarhead, huh? Looks like I'm outnumbered, ol' Pete here is a Marine too." The older man rose from his seat and shook Miles's hand.

"Pete Blanchard, First Battalion, Ninth Marines," he said. "Miles Dunn, Second Battalion, Sixth."

"What was your MOS?"

"Oh-two-oh-four."

"Intel, huh? I was Infantry myself. Saw plenty of action in ‘Nam. We were just south of the DMZ, back in July sixty-seven, when we were ambushed by a bunch of gook regulars. We took a lot of casualties; I thought I was going home in a body bag. Thank God, for the air cav, man, those boys gave ‘em hell, saved our asses. They finally got the tanks up to us, and with the artillery, fuckin' ground never stopped shakin'. Shit, they nicknamed us the ‘The Walking Dead,' back in the sixties, long before that TV show."

"I saw a little action myself, in Afghanistan. I've got a helluva lotta respect for you guys, you all paved the way for us young bloods."

The man gave him a nod of approval, and turned back to Art, allowing Miles to finish loading the mag. He loaded it with ten rounds, and then placed the rifle down to put on his eyes and ears. He then picked up the rifle and magazine and headed for lane number three. After setting the paper target at twenty-five yards, Miles placed the mag into the receiver and quickly pulled and released the charging handle. He eased his cheek up behind the blast deflector and stared down through the Trijicon ACOG sight to the target beyond. He used his forefinger to switch the button safety before easing his finger onto the trigger.

*BANG*

Even with the earmuffs on, Miles was surprised by the loud report that was made from such a small rifle. There wasn't much recoil, though, which was very nice. Miles eased his finger off the trigger and checked the target. His round had gone about two inches [5 cm] off the center, towards the right shoulder. He brought the rifle back up and fired off another round, which went about an inch and a half [4 cm] to the left.

It took him two more shots before he was able to center it, and the remainder of his rounds produced a nice grouping on the upper side of the center mass. He pressed the safety on, ejected the mag, and pulled the charging handle back and up to lock it in place.

"Not too bad, young blood," Pete said as Miles walked back to the counter. "Thanks," he said, then turned to Art, "is it alright if I fill the mag this time?"

"Yeah," Art said, "go ahead."

Most indoor firing ranges only allowed ten rounds to be loaded into a single mag, so by allowing him to fill it to the full thirty round capacity, it showed that the range safety officer trusted Miles. He set the gun down on the counter top and went about filling the magazine with the majority of the ammunition in his box. Beside him, Pete and Art took the opportunity to talk a bit before Miles started shooting again. As he loaded round after round, he overheard them talking about the flu in China.

"Hey, Pete, what do think of that flu thing they have over in China?"

"They say it's contained; that's bullshit, I think they need to close the borders here, shut'em down completely like they did back on nine-eleven."

"Yeah, can't say I don't disagree with ya. Can't trust them slanty-eyed chinks, ya know?" The topic of the Chinese flu was definitely becoming the main theme in conversations and on

TV lately, but Miles had been too caught up in his new situation to give it much thought. He returned to his lane, chambered a round, pushed the safety button, and started firing again. This time, he fell back on his military training and practiced his Box Drill – double tap to the center mass, one to the head.

After the first nine rounds were gone, Miles put the safety back on and used the wall controls to move the target back to about fifty yards. He then pushed off the safety and started the drill again.

Art and Pete watched Miles methodically go after the target, focused with an intensity they hadn't seen in a very long time. Even at fifty yards, the head shots were quick and on target. Clearly, this was someone who had seen a lot of action and knew how to assault the enemy with deadly results. It took seconds for Miles to finish firing his last ten rounds, then with a deep breath, and short pause, Miles put the safety on and brought the target back.

"Well, that felt good, I'll have to come back again."

"That was some pretty good shootin'."

Pete was plainly impressed with the way Miles handled himself. "Thanks. Once a Marine, always a Marine, right?."

"Semper Fi, brother."

Art looked at the two Marines, and with a smirk, said, "Yeah, you leathernecks always go straight in with guns blazing and then leave the mop up operations to us Army guys."

They all chuckled, "Yup" they said in unison.

"Well, I have to get going. Nice meetin' ya, and I'll probably see you around again."

"You will," Art said, "Pete and I are here a lot."

"Nice meetin' a fellow Marine, I definitely plan on coming back."

Miles thanked them one last time, and then headed back to pay for the ammo he had used. Dick was behind the glass counter and grinned as Miles approached.

"Well, how'd you like it?"

"Nice; felt good in my hands, not a lot of recoil so I was able to get shots off quick. Nice range you have back there."

Miles' attention was drawn to a double-barreled 1911 in the glass case, and then the FN PS90 that was hanging on the wall behind Dick. Damn, he thought, I could easily become a regular here. His eyes swept over the clock on the wall, and he reached for his wallet. No time to test out another gun today, it would have to wait until the next visit.

"How much do I owe you?"

***

Greg opened the door to the Ready Room and stepped inside. He smiled to himself as he shut the door behind him; he had the boys all to himself for a while. Anthony looked cute in the tiny lederhosen that he was wearing, and Milo looked absolutely hot in the Altar boy outfit. Now that Ivor was gone, he could have a little fun with them.

The "Ready Room" was exactly what it sounded like – a small room with a large walk-in closet filled with costumes, benches to sit on and hooks to hang clothes, and two full-length mirrors. The room annexed a larger room, which was known as the "Rumpus Room." A single door that closed automatically separated the two rooms. Anthony could hear the two boys giggling on the other side of the door, and after checking himself out in one of the mirrors; he opened the door and stepped through.

The Rumpus Room was a large bedroom that had a large round waterbed in the far corner. The bed was made up with candy red sheets and was on a platform that could rotate. A knob on the wall would cause the bed to spin, and could be turned to modulate the speed at which the bed spun. Red and purple see-through decorative bed canopies hung over the bed like mosquito nets, and a large, round mirror adorned the ceiling above the mattress.

The walls were garnished with various sex toys and Kamasutra paintings. In the corner opposite the bed was a vanity with a heart-shaped mirror, and along one wall was a large mirror. Anthony knew that this mirror was actually a two-way mirror, and on the other side there would be several video cameras set up on tripods, which were hooked up to a computer. Mr. Thorvald liked to record his little escapades so he could watch them again later at his leisure, and the only way into the video room was through a secret door that was behind a bookshelf in the library.

Near an expensive looking stereo system, the two boys were giggling and pointing at one of the Kamasutra pictures on the wall. Their skin glowed red from the cherry-colored lighting, which made them look delicious – like a pair of sexy candy apples. Greg cleared his throat and the duo spun around, Milo looking at him intriguingly, while Anthony looked annoyed. Greg had the distinct feeling that Anthony didn't like him, which actually made Greg all the more excited.

"Hey guys," Greg said as he walked over to the bed and turned the knob to the first setting, "whattya think of Mister Thorvald's Rumpus Room?"

Anthony didn't answer. Milo looked at him nervously for a second, and then looked back at

Greg.

"It's 3; um 3; kinda weird," the boy said softly.

Greg nodded as he took in the two boys, his eyes devouring them from the feet up. He lifted a finger and motioned to the stereo.

"Milo, turn that on, wouldja?"

The boy hesitated for a moment, and then walked towards the stereo. Greg stared after his little butt that was covered by the altar boy alb as the boy bent to investigate the buttons on the stereo.

"Push the play button," Greg said impatiently, "you know 3; the one with the little arrow on it?"

The boy finally found the correct button, and soft jazz music began to fill the air. Greg sat back on the mattress as the bed slowly spun, propping himself up with his arms. He looked back over at the boys, and then patted the space beside him.

"Hey Anthony, why don'tcha come on over here? Let's show Milo what this room is actually used for, shall we?"

Anthony didn't move. He looked like he wanted to refuse, and a look of contempt washed over his face. Finally, perhaps knowing how much sway Greg held at the school, Anthony slowly sauntered over and sat beside him on the bed. As the bed turned away from Milo, Greg glanced up at the boy and winked at him.

"Here's the reason you're really here," Greg said.

The foot of the bed was facing away from Milo now, and Greg knew that the boy wouldn't be able to see exactly what was happening until the bed made a complete revolution. Greg took the opportunity to unzip his pants and fish his large cock out. He took Anthony's hand and placed it on his cock.

"Make it look good," he hissed threateningly in Anthony's ear, "or Mister Fisher will hear about it."

Anthony seemed to snap out of his funk and immediately began to stroke the older boy's cock. Greg leaned in and kissed the boy, sliding his tongue inside the hot young mouth. As the bed made the way three-quarters around, Greg dropped his hand to the front of the breeches. He fumbled with the buttons and finally managed to drop the front of the leather shorts open, revealing Anthony's smooth, soft cocklet. He wrapped his hand around the boy's love stick and started to massage it slowly.

When the bed completed the circuit, Greg grinned as he heard Milo's soft gasp. Looks like the kid isn't totally broken in yet, Greg thought as his free hand slid up Anthony's body to the boy's soft cheek. Anthony responded by placing his hand on Greg's chest, slipping beneath the material of Greg's shirt. They continued to kiss and rub each other as the bed made another complete revolution.

Greg stopped and stripped his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. He then lay back on the bed as he unbuttoned the leather suspenders from the front of the lederhosen. Anthony wriggled out of them, and Greg tossed them backwards over his head. They flew past the heart-shaped pillows and landed at Milo's feet. Completely nude now, Anthony mounted Greg and started to grind his butt back and forth against the older boy's stiffening cock. Greg reached down and unsnapped his pants, then pushed them down to below his knees. He then placed his hands on either side of Anthony's hips, guiding the boy.

What a sight it must have been for Milo once the bed turned back to face him. Greg, pants down and lying back on the bed, with Anthony squatting over him and grinding his hips gently back and forth on his lap. Greg looked towards Milo and saw the boy standing by the stereo looking confused. Greg grinned and pointed at the vanity.

"Milo, check in that top drawer. There should be a little tube that reads 'KY' on it."

Milo, looking uncertain, walked over and opened the drawer. He then pulled out an orange tube that read KY Warming Jelly and held it up.

"Um 3; is this it?"

"Yes, bring it over here."

The boy looked like he didn't want to approach the bed. Instead, he tossed it underhand so that it landed on the mattress beside Greg.

"No, I said bring it. Come over here and pick it up."

Milo carefully approached the bed. Avoiding the two on the mattress, he quickly picked the tube of KY jelly up and held it out to Greg. Instead of taking the tube, Greg patted Anthony's butt and told him to get up for a second. When the boy had done so, Greg spread his legs apart wider.

"Squeeze some of that lotion out on your hand and grease me up."

Milo frowned and looked from Greg to Anthony. The thought of rubbing lube on the prefect's stiff cock seemed to disgust him, but Greg was becoming impatient. He looked up at Anthony, who was squatting beside him on the mattress and furrowed his brow.

"Are you gonna ask him to do it, or should I make him?" Anthony looked pitifully at the boy holding out the tube of KY. "Go ahead," Anthony suggested, "do as he says."

Milo looked almost like he was going to cry, but he managed to hold the tears back. With hands that shook, he unscrewed the cap and tossed it onto the mattress. Then, he squirted a little puddle of the liquid into the palm of his hand and handed the tube to Anthony to screw the cap back on. He rubbed his hands together to spread the warm liquid, and then stood in front of Greg's spread legs. The bed continued to turn slowly, and as he began to lower his hands to the stiff member before him, he had to shimmy sideways to stay even with the prefect.

"You may as well sit down," Greg insisted.

Milo gently sat to Greg's left, on the opposite side of Anthony. Seeming to pluck up his courage, he lowered his hands until they met the tip of Greg's erection, and started to lubricate the head with the jelly.

"Don't be shy, go on."

Milo worked his hands up and down the softly throbbing pole, greasing it from the tip down to the base. Greg leaned back and sighed as he began to pump himself in and out of the boy's hands. The boy's hands were already warm, and the jelly that was coating his cock made it begin to tingle. After a few more thrusts, he told the boy to stop and nodded towards Anthony.

"Now him, Anthony, bend over so that Milo can lube you up."

Anthony shot Greg a dirty look, but he did as he was told, crawling onto all fours and turning around so that his rear faced Milo. Milo took the KY and once again filled his palm with a small puddle, rubbed his hands together, and leaned in to rub it on Anthony's cocklet.

"No, on his asshole."

Milo corrected his error and started to rub his hand up and down Anthony's bum crack, lightly coating it with the slippery lubrication.

"You're gonna need to do better than that," Greg said, "use your fingers to get inside. Go on."

Milo made a face as he carefully pushed his index finger into Anthony's hole. Anthony gasped and let out a low moan as the jelly warmed his rectum. He pushed his bum back against the probing finger and moaned again.

"Put another finger in," Anthony requested.

The boy uncurled his middle finger and stuck it in as well, then started to move it in and out, doing his best to coat everything inside. After watching them for a few moments, Greg told Milo to stop.

"Okay, that's good enough. Now, sit here and watch; you'll be doing this yourself soon enough." Milo immediately removed his fingers from Anthony's hole, and the suddenness of it made

Anthony whimper. Milo then sat with his hands in his lap while Anthony once again mounted Greg, this time facing towards him. Greg held onto his swollen cock and guided it up against the boy's waiting anus, pressing against it but not penetrating.

"Get in real close now, so you can see how it's done."

Milo hesitated, and then took a deep breath before leaning in close. Mere inches away, Greg could feel the boy's warm breath spreading across his crotch. Using one hand to steady his cock and placing the other on Anthony's hip, he gently pushed himself into Anthony, pressing the boy down until the entire seven inches [18 cm] had been completely swallowed up. Anthony gasped and moaned as Greg started to pump himself in and out.

Milo kept his face close, although Greg caught his eyes wandering. Not interested, huh? Well then, I'll have to fix that. Greg reached his hand towards the boy and placed it on Milo's ass, rubbing the bubbly cheek through the material of the alb. That's when another idea popped into Greg's head, one that he quickly put to use.

"Milo, I want you to come up here and sit on my face."

"Wh 3; what?!" the boy asked incredulously.

"You heard me, come sit on my face."

The boy blanched at the idea, but after a quick glance to Anthony for the boy's approval, Milo climbed up on the bed and sat above Greg. He placed his knees on either side of Greg's head; then slowly lowered himself onto the prefect's face. Greg reached up and moved the alb out of the way, giving him a good view of the boy's underside.

Damn, Greg thought as he stared first at the smooth scrotum, and then followed the perineum up to the boy's anus, that's fucking sexy as hell! Greg lifted his chin a little so that Milo's balls rested on his lips. He opened his mouth and welcomed them in, enjoying the tiny squeak of surprise that Milo emitted above him. Greg rolled the boy's balls around in his mouth, sucking on them gently. His nose was buried in the space between Milo's scrotum and anus, and Greg inhaled sharply, getting a good whiff of the boy's sweet musk.

While he stared at the boy's bum hole directly in front of his eyes, he then stretched his tongue out until it found the tip of the boy's soft penis. He gave it a few playful flicks with his tongue, then opened his mouth wider and sucked in the boy's small cocklet. While he watched the boy's anus dilate slightly as he sucked on everything in his mouth – penis and both balls. He then lifted his chin higher and licked the boy's wrinkled anus.

"Milo," he said after a few minutes of rimming, "your buddy probably feels left out. Why don'tcha lean forward and suck Anthony?"

He watched the pretty anus lift an inch as Milo leaned forward, and then he resumed sucking on Milo's soft cocklet. He could not see if Milo was sucking Anthony from his position, so he placed one hand on Anthony's quivering cock and the other on the back of Milo's head, and pushed them together. After he checked to make sure that most of Anthony's erection was inside the boy's mouth, he put his hands on either side of Milo's head and moved it back and forth in time with the movements of his hips as he fucked Anthony.

He felt the soft cocklet give a lurch in his mouth, and then he could feel it start to stiffen. I think he likes it, Greg thought as he spat out the boy's balls and focused on the hardening penis. He sucked harder, sliding his tongue up and down the boy's shaft and around the pink head. He gave the pee slit a few flicks, then swirled around the corona, and finally found that tender spot on the underside, where the corona moved up to meet the slit. He tickled this with his tongue and heard Milo moan softly around Anthony's cock above him.

Greg could feel the beginnings of an orgasm rising in his loins, and he quickly stopped thrusting his hips. Humiliation was one of his greatest joys, and he wanted to partake in a little debasing before he came. He pushed the tender young erection out of his mouth with his tongue, and then pulled himself out of Anthony.

"Okay, let me up," he said, "it's time for the happy ending."

Milo gave Anthony another few sucks, before he rolled off Greg's face. Anthony crawled over to Milo and immediately began to suck the boy's cock. Cute, Greg thought, but not exactly what I had in mind. He climbed off the bed and removed the rest of his clothing.

"Okay, you two, there's plenty of time for that later. Right now you guys are gonna finish what you've started."

Anthony, looking disappointed, stopped sucking his friend and turned to face Greg. The prefect put a hand on his hip and pointed to his cock with the other.

"Get the lube off and suck it."

Anthony gave him another dirty look, but he obeyed. He walked over to the vanity and removed a plush pink towel from the drawer, then returned to Greg and scrubbed all the lube off, rather roughly.

"Hey," Greg said as he pushed the boy, "not so rough, dammit!"

Anthony resumed his task while Greg looked up at Milo. The boy had also left the bed and was standing beside it, watching them. The altar boy alb was closed in front, but his erection was poking up through the folds of the material. Greg beckoned to him and the boy walked closer.

"Okay, that's good enough. Now suck it, both of you."

Anthony tossed the towel aside and quickly latched on. Due to his experience, he managed to swallow the entire length of Greg's stiff prick without gagging. The prefect placed his hands on top of Anthony's head and started pumping himself in and out of the boy's mouth.

"You too, Milo."

"Um 3;" the boy stammered, "b 3; but how am I supposed to? You 3; um 3; only have one." Greg stopped moving his hips and cupped a hand around his balls, waving them at the boy. "You can suck on these."

Milo's face reddened with embarrassment, but he slowly walked over. Anthony scooted aside a bit to allow the boy room, and Milo knelt down beside him. As the boy's face approached his testicles, Greg could feel the warm breath spreading across his ball sack. Very gingerly, he felt the warm wetness as Milo opened his mouth and put his lips around Greg's scrotum. The boy then started sucking, which elicited a loud moan from Greg.

"Oh, fuck. That's good."

Greg placed his hands on the back of Anthony's head and roughly forced the boy down on his cock. Anthony mumbled a protest around his cock, but Greg ignored it. Instead, he used his hands to pull and push Anthony's head back and forth on his cock. Anthony put his hands over Greg's, trying to pull them off his head, but Greg slapped them away.

"Stop fighting, Anthony, or I'll tell Mister Fisher that you weren't cooperating."

Anthony stopped fighting, but Greg could tell by the look on his face that the boy was pissed at being treated so roughly. Greg continued to face-fuck Anthony while Milo sucked sweetly on his scrotum. He could feel the kid's hot tongue as it darted in and out of the boy's mouth, lapping up the sweat that had accumulated between Greg's scrotum and inner thigh. The jazz music filled the air around them, and it wasn't long before Greg could feel the orgasm rising in his loins again.

"Okay, okay, that's enough."

He yanked Anthony's head off his cock and pulled himself out of Milo's mouth. "Kiss each other," he said.

The boys gave him a confused look. Greg was about to cum; he had no time for this. He quickly grabbed a fistful of Anthony's hair, and placed his hand on the back of Milo's head. He shoved their faces together, mashing their noses against each other.

"I said kiss!"

The boys, slightly hurt but not wanting to anger the prefect, wrapped their arms around each other, and started to kiss passionately. Greg caught a glimpse of Anthony's tongue as it fished around inside of Milo's mouth right in front of him. The prefect hurriedly grabbed his erection and rubbed it frantically. As the orgasm peaked, Greg came, splattering his seed over the boys' interlocked lips and faces. He tossed his head back and moaned.

"Ah, holy fuck!"

When he had recovered, he looked down at the two boys, who were still kissing, his warm cum dripping down their faces.

"That's good, now you can clean each other off."

They stopped kissing and Anthony went first. Milo closed his eyes and puffed out his cheeks while Anthony used his tongue to lap up the cum off the boy's face. When Milo was clean, Anthony closed his eyes and offered his face to the boy, who looked at it apprehensively.

"Go on," Greg cackled, "it's just protein. It's good for you."

Milo leaned in and licked a small drop off Anthony's chin. He made a face of disgust, showing that he didn't like it at all. He shuddered as he swallowed it. Greg giggled and prodded him on.

"Go on, I want you to lick all that mess up."

Milo looked a little green around the gills, but he managed to slurp up the remaining semen off his friend's face – only gagging a few times as he did so. When he was finished, Greg took a seat on the bed and patted the two empty spots beside him.

"Okay, you guys did a pretty good job. Now I'll reward you."

The boys sat on either side of Greg, and the prefect placed a hand on each one's genitals, rubbing them simultaneously. As he jerked the boys off, he thought of how he planned to enjoy them in the time left before Thorvald's return. His mind wandered some; a little game of 'tie-up' might be nice, or perhaps that new latex mummy 'sleep sack' that Thorvald kept in the back of the closet – the one that kept its wearer from moving. That oughta freak them out a little bit.

He had followed Carl's recommendations all week, keeping himself and his gang quiet and away from any mischief, but he knew the peace wouldn't hold for long. There was far too much fun to be had, and he was in his final few weeks at the school, with all those available boys. He knew he wanted to take the virginity of one or two more kids before he left, and Sven was still on his list. He regretted having missed Milo's initiation; it would have been quite interesting.

He knew he was going too far, too fast, and was not following Carl's cautionary rules.

Unfortunately, it was his nature; he was afraid of nothing and no one. It was exactly what made him so popular among his peers. They knew he would be the first to take a bet, to expose himself, or to assume the risks; to do what no other in the gang would ever dare. Somehow, he had always made it through.

Most of the other club members followed along and did whatever he asked of them; they admired him, but also feared him. He was intelligent, strong, determined, and was not afraid to hurt others – something he had shown on several occasions. The boys he dealt with had been terrorized and were too afraid of him to squeal. He had made things quite clear with them, and they never doubted his words.

Carl and Thorvald had promised they would find a way to have him come back to St. Xavier as often as possible, and would have boys available for him even when he was in College, but he knew it would never be the same. What he enjoyed most of all was the hunt; catch the prey and play with it for a very long time. He enjoyed having them at his mercy, as if they were mere puppets. But, once he left the school, he would never be able to achieve it the way he wanted. What made him invincible was his reputation, his influence, his prestige, his ruthlessness all of which was known by the students. It was now or never, and it was all a part of his plans for later. If he could have Anthony for himself that night, the boy would be his perfect and unsuspecting playmate to experiment with.

***

Miles sighed as he sat in the car, waiting for the return of the prefect. He had told the boy to meet him here at four, and it was now three minutes past. Due to his military training, Miles was a stickler for being on time; in his mind, being late was disrespectful. Still, Arthur was only a kid, and Miles was sure he had kept his own parents waiting more than once, as a teenager. When the dashboard clock had ticked off the hour, he thought briefly about lecturing the boy on the courteousness of being on time, but now he dismissed the idea. Let the kid have his fun, he told himself as the minutes continued to increase.

He had hidden the ammunition in a black plastic bag in the rear seat. The headmaster wasn't aware that he had brought his pistol along; he wasn't quite sure what mister Daniels would have said if he had asked to bring the weapon along, so he had decided not to say anything about it. After returning to the school, he would drop Arthur off and retrieve the ammo when the prefect had gone back to his dorm.

The sound of a girl giggling snapped Miles back to attention. Ahead of him, Arthur was walking between two similar-aged girls. His arms were around both their shoulders and they were laughing at something he had said. Hmmm, Miles thought, maybe the kid isn't such a bullshitter after all.

"Hey, Mister Dunn," Arthur said as he approached the open window. "Hey Arthur, you ready to go?"

The girls giggled annoyingly as Arthur jerked his thumb towards Miles.

"This here's Mister Dunn. He's one of the staff guys up at Saint Xavier; he's cool. He's an Ex- Marine."

The eyes of the girl on Arthur's left arm flashed briefly. She placed her hand on her hip in a flirting gesture, though whether or not she was aware of it was beyond Miles.

"Oooh," the teenager cooed, "a Marine? I just love a man in uniform."

And I would just love to spend the night in jail for picking up jailbait, Miles thought sardonically. He smiled politely at her and returned his attention to Arthur.

"Guess it's about time to head back; don't wanna be late for dinner."

"Yes sir," Arthur said with a grin.

He saluted Miles, which caused the bimbos on either arm to erupt in another annoying gale of giggles. Turning to the girl on his right, Arthur nuzzled her neck and whispered something into her ear. Miles could make out the mouthed words; call me. The prefect kissed her earlobe, then her lips. The other girl, meanwhile, strutted over to the open window and grazed a fingernail across Miles's forearm.

Miles glanced down at the cheap press-on nails that made a small path down his arm.

Reflexively, he pulled his arm away slightly; not only because the girl was probably just sixteen, but also because she was a girl. The girl seemed to take the reason for his reaction as the former, and she smiled at him sexily. She bent down closer, purposefully allowing Miles a view of her underage cleavage. Miles glanced past her and saw that Arthur was too busy engaging in tonsil-hockey with the other girl to notice.

"I'm Mandy, and don't worry, I'd never tell anybody," the girl whispered brazenly.

Miles was about to come back with some snarky comment about her not having anything to tell, when the girl reached down into one of the cups of her bra. Oh Jesus, Miles thought with horror, she's gonna pull her tit out right here in the parking lot. Instead, she removed a scrap of paper and handed it to him. On it, written in glittery-pink ink, was a phone number.

"I keep one or two of these ready, just in case," the girl said with a wink. "Uh 3;"

"Gimme a call the next time you're in town; until then you can dream about these."

Then, she did what Miles had been afraid of; with a quick glance over her shoulder at the two behind her, she placed her fingers inside the cups of her bra and pulled it down, quickly revealing her supple breasts before covering them again. Although Miles wasn't much into girls, he had to admit that Mandy did have perfect tits; flawless, beckoning C cups with two nice-sized pink areolas.

" 3; Arthur, we gotta get going."

Mandy winked at him and blew him a kiss as she finally withdrew from his window. Arthur finished necking the other girl and slapped her playfully on the ass.

"Gotta run, ladies, I'll call ya."

The girls waved as Arthur rounded the van and hopped in the passenger seat. Without a second glance at the two lascivious bimbos, Miles threw the vehicle into gear and turned a circle, heading towards the parking lot's exit. As he turned right onto Abercorn, he crumpled the piece of paper up in his fist and tossed it out the window. He wouldn't be needing that anytime soon.

The trip home was uneventful; Arthur bragged about how he had slipped his hand down Mandy's miniskirt and fingered her while making out with the other in the food court. He even offered to let Miles smell his finger as evidence, which Miles declined. Arthur mentioned that he couldn't wait until next weekend, and how he might try to hook up one of the other prefects with Mandy.

"Stacy's more my type," he said, "but Mandy is really horny. I'll see if Brody would like to go out with her – maybe help take her off my hands."

After a quick stop for gas, they arrived at Saint Xavier at quarter to five; a bit later than Miles had hoped. Arthur hopped out to open the gate, and Miles drove it through and parked. After closing the gate, the prefect waved at him as he made his way around the parked vehicles to the campus. Miles checked the mileage and gas levels and recorded them onto his cell phone so that he could enter them on the vehicle sheet, then walked around to the back doors to grab his ammunition.

He walked through the gate near the shop building and turned Northwest, walking towards his dorm beyond the gym. A few students waved at him as he crossed the quad, and Miles returned their greetings. Because it was the weekend, the students were allowed to wear everyday clothes instead of their usual school uniforms. Miles thought they looked so different in their street clothes; each one seemed younger and more boyish. More 3; fun.

I'm really starting to enjoy this place, Miles thought as he descended the stone steps on his way to the dorm.

***

"Hey, there you are, guys," Ivor said as he peeked into the game room, "you fellers doing alright?"

Anthony and Milo were back on the PlayStations, busy killing each other in Call of Duty. When he entered the room, Milo, who was still wearing the altar boy alb, glanced over at him for a split second before returning his attention to the game. He gave a single nod, but remained stone-faced.

Anthony, looking ravishing in the lederhosen, was so engrossed with the game he didn't even bother to look.

"Yep," Anthony said as his character shot Milo's in the head.

I hope that foolish Greg didn't do anything stupid, Ivor thought as he tried to read Milo's face. Anthony had been here on several occasions and knew all about Ivor's little weekend escapades. The kid was an old hand and Ivor knew that he didn't have to worry about him. Milo, on the other hand, was new to this and had to be treated with kid gloves.

"What did you guys do while I was gone?"

Again, Milo sat silently playing the game while Anthony answered. "Greg took us to the Rumpus Room."

Horny little fucker, Ivor seethed. He had hoped that Greg would break in the new kid just a little whilst he was out – maybe play a little 'dress-up' with the boys in the Ready Room, do a little fondling and perhaps a little sucking. Nothing too engaging, Ivor wanted to take care of that himself. But, if they had gone to the Rumpus Room, there was a huge chance that Greg had fucked one or both of the boys. Although that was the ultimate goal, Ivor had wanted to reach that point gingerly and slowly, without frightening the new boy. Judging by Milo's expressionless face, Greg wasn't of the same mind and had plodded through the ordeal without any hint of subtlety.

Granted, since Milo was here, it meant that he knew what was to be expected from him. It was all in the contract; the boy was obviously aware of it. He had already practiced and had agreed to engage in sex in return for a weekend stay at the mansion. Ivor didn't want a boy who would get upset and spill the beans. Milo was still new to the idea, and this would be the first time he would perform outside the school with a stranger. There were some precautions to take – he needed to be seduced, not forced. He was a free boy from a good family, not a prostitute.

"Anthony, did Greg 3;"

His voice trailed off. He had to be sure before he talked to Milo so he would know what to say. "Yep. Just me though. Milo watched."

At the mention of his name, Milo's eyes flickered over first to Anthony, and then Ivor, before once again returning to the video game. Ivor sighed.

"Pause it a minute, will ya Ant?"

"It's Call of Duty, you can't pause it."

"Well then 3; stop killing each other for a minute."

Anthony nodded, placed his controller on the ground, and turned to face Ivor. Milo, who was losing by over fifteen kills, took advantage of the situation and killed Anthony's character with a shotgun blast to the back. Then, he too set his controller down and looked up at Ivor. The man grabbed a beanbag chair and carried it over to where Milo sat in the gaming rocker. He eased himself down into the squishy seat and smiled at the boy. Milo didn't return his smile.

"Anthony, do me a favor, will ya? Would you run on down to the kitchen and make us some root beer floats?"

Anthony nodded and rose to do his task. Once the boy had left the room and the door was safely shut behind him, Ivor turned to Milo.

"Doin' okay there, sport?"

"Yeah."

Milo's voice was husky from misuse, and the boy cleared his throat. Ivor waited before speaking again, searching for the right words to say. He had to tread carefully; he still wanted to have the boy himself later that evening, but thanks to Greg's stupidity, he had to set the boy's mind at ease first.

"Milo," he started, "I take it you saw what Greg and Anthony did. Is that right?" Milo nodded, avoiding eye contact.

"How do you feel about that?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. It was natural for him to feel strange about witnessing two boys have sex in those unusual circumstances; it was a lot to think about. The deed had been done, and now Ivor had to somehow get Milo to realize that it wasn't anything to be ashamed about or scared of. He had to work to have Milo see that it was completely natural – an extension of love and desire. He had to have Milo accept that he wanted to freely share in the experience.

"Did it frighten you, Milo?"

Milo shook his head. That was a good sign, but the boy still refused to make eye contact. "Do you understand why they did that?"

Milo's brow furrowed but he didn't respond. Ah, Ivor thought, now we're getting somewhere.

Ivor gently placed his hand on Milo's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sure your folks have given you the talk about the birds and the bees. That's kinda what you saw here today. Greg and Anthony 3; and you for that matter – are at a very special age. At your age, your body starts to produce hormones, and you get this kinda curious feeling about doing things.

Sometimes you get a feeling like you want to touch yourself, and have other people touch you. Do you ever feel like that, Milo? It's actually one of the purposes of coming here."

Milo nodded slowly.

"Of course you do, you're a twelve-year-old boy! Well, Anthony and Greg have those same feelings, and they wanted to share them with each other. It's a perfectly natural thing to do, to want to share those special feelings with somebody else. Sometimes it is with a girl, but other times, especially when girls aren't around, it's nice to share those feelings with somebody else – like another boy. There's nothing wrong with it, and it sure feels great! But you know that already, right?"

Ivor chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. The whisper of a shy smile danced ever so subtlety at the corner of Milo's mouth, and as soon as Ivor saw it, he knew things were going to be alright.

"Lots of times people do it because they love each other, but that's not the only reason for it.

Sometimes, you just want to feel good. Sometimes, you want to share a special experience with another person, and know that they are experiencing the same feelings with you. It's not the same kind of love that you have with your parents, but it is a type of love. It's a very special bond between you and the other person. It shows that you care about them. Do you understand?"

Another nod, this time it came quicker. Now was the moment Ivor had been waiting for, he just had to word it the right way. Keeping his hand on Milo's shoulder, Ivor placed the fingertips of his free hand on Milo's cheek and gently turned the boy's face toward his own. At last, eye contact was made, and Ivor gazed deeply into the boy's bright blues.

"Milo, we just met, but I really like you a lot. You are funny, and smart, and a wonderful young man. I would like to share that experience with you. I would feel deeply honored to be your first man."

Milo stared back into his eyes, perhaps searching for a lie. Ivor smiled warmly at him and held his gaze.

"I want you to feel that same wonderful feeling. I don't know how Ant and Greg did it, and I don't know about any of your previous experiences, but I want to go nice and slow. I won't do anything you don't like, and you can tell me to stop whenever you want. But I would like to at least try; would you be willing to do that?"

Milo hesitated, and finally gave a very soft nod. Ivor's heart leapt in his chest. He meant every word that he had said; if the boy wanted to stop, Ivor would stop. But, he would be gentle and do things slowly, focusing more on the boy's pleasure than his own. After the child felt comfortable, Ivor would worry about his own needs. Acting on instinct now, Ivor leaned in a little closer to Milo.

"Tonight, I would like to invite you to stay with me in my room; in my bed. If you don't like something, tell me to stop and I will."

Leaning in a little closer now, he could feel the boy's warm breath on his face. It smelled pleasant, like Nacho Dorito chips.

"I promise."

Ivor closed his eyes and bridged the gap between them. As his lips met Milo's, he could already feel a stirring in his loins. The boy's lips were soft and velvety, like the purest silk. Ivor slowly peeked and saw that Milo's eyes were also closed. Moving slowly, Ivor caressed the boy's cheek while they kissed, while his other hand moved from the boy's shoulder and traced down the chest until it arrived at the boy's crotch. He opened his mouth a little and swiped his tongue across Milo's lips as his hand parted the fold of the alb. When he found Milo's hairless cocklet, he was surprised to find that it was semi-hard. Ivor started to stroke the boy's cock slightly, and pushed his tongue inside of the boy's warm, wet mouth. Carl knew how to select his boys; he was an invaluable provider. Seducing them was so much better than using his own bought houseboys.

The sound of a door closing made them both jump. They turned their heads towards the doorway and saw Anthony standing there, trying to juggle three root beer floats. Each one was in a large soda fountain glass and adorned with a cherry.

"Want me to come back later?" Anthony asked. "No, no, that's alright."

Ivor closed the folds of the alb over Milo's penis as he turned back to the boy and gave him a warm smile.

"Tonight, okay?" he whispered into the boy's ear.

Milo nodded, and Ivor patted his crotch through the material. He kissed Milo's ear, then hoisted himself out of the beanbag. Anthony walked over and handed first Ivor, then Milo a float. Some of the ice cream had dribbled down Anthony's bare chest as he had carried the glasses up the stairs, and Ivor wiped it off with the backside of his finger. He popped the finger into his mouth, relishing the creamy taste of the vanilla ice cream mixed with the sweet root beer. Hopefully, later on, he would also get to relish another type of cream.

The trio enjoyed their desserts, and then the boys went back to slaughtering each other in the video game while Ivor racked up the balls on one of the billiard tables and practiced his shots. Tonight he would break the new boy in, and tomorrow evening they would all have some bedroom adventures together in the Rumpus Room.

***

Anthony was resentful. He loved coming to visit Mr. Thorvald, but he hated the fact that Greg was there. The prefect was a huge jerk, and it was well known among the youngest club members that he could be rather cruel in the bedroom. Hurting his partners seemed to get him off, much to the dismay of the boys. It was why most of them tried to avoid him as much as possible.

And now, as if it wasn't bad enough that Greg was there, Anthony had been asked to "entertain" him for the evening. Mr. Thorvald had specifically requested that Milo, alone, join him in bed tonight, which meant that Anthony had a stressful night of trying not to anger Greg ahead of him, lest he fall victim to one of the prefect's sadistic whims.

Fuck Milo, Anthony thought bitterly. The boy was his friend and the newest member of the club, but why couldn't they both stay with Mr. Thorvald? Anthony loved the kindly southern gentleman, and it just wasn't fair that Milo got to be with him all night while Anthony had to deal with Greg's bullshit. Not fair at all.

Anthony was currently in the Ready Room, looking for a decent costume – not that he would be wearing it for long, but he hoped that if he could find one sexy enough, it might stave off Greg's darker desires and the prefect would be satisfied with a fast, hard fuck. Greg was in the Rumpus Room, being attended to by one of Mr. Thorvald's houseboys. Anthony could hear the muffled grunts from behind the closed door as the poor Asian kid's asshole was being stretched by Greg's thick cock. The sound of a sharp slap, followed by a sharp shout of pain made Anthony jump. He had better look for a good costume quick, or Greg would tire of the houseboy and call for him to work his magic.

"You slanty-eyed bitch," came a grumble from the other room, "bounce harder! I'm not even all the way in yet!"

The kid said something in his native tongue, and there was another slapping sound. Anthony dug through the closet, pushing aside several costumes in his desperate search for something hot.

Pirate? Skeleton? Wizard? No, none of these would work. Maybe he would like the Indian costume, it was fairly revealing. He picked up a pair of tube socks with red stripes on the end; at least it was a start.

As he slid the tube socks up his slender legs, there was another slapping noise, followed by a shout of something in Asian. The sound of hurried footsteps approached, and then the door flung open. The Asian boy was crying and holding his cheek, which was bright red. His semi-hard erection wobbled back and forth as the boy crossed the Ready Room and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Fuck off, bitch! Your ass ain't no good anyway!" came the yell from the Rumpus Room.

Shit. Anthony was up next, and he hadn't found a good costume yet. His hands shook as he tossed several items of clothing aside, quickly looking for something – anything to put on.

"Anthony! Get in here!"

"I'm coming," he said, trying to stall.

His hand settled on a bright red wrestling singlet. That'll have to do, he thought as he yanked it free from the hanger. He hurriedly stepped into the spandex outfit, pulling it up and putting his arms through the straps. If Greg's erection died before Anthony could begin servicing him, the prefect would take his frustration out on Anthony's hide.

When everything was in place, Anthony glanced quickly in the mirror on his way into the Rumpus Room. Good enough, he thought. After opening the door, Anthony leaned against the wall, trying to be sexy. He ran his hand over the smooth material of the singlet and pulled the top down a little to show his nipples, which he circled with his finger. The more erotic he made this, the quicker everything would be over.

"Come on over here," the prefect demanded.

Greg was lying on the slowly rotating bed, completely nude and bathed in a thin layer of sweat. He was propped up on his elbows and his legs were spread apart; his hairy cock standing straight up in the air. The dim red and pink lights of the room made him look like a demon, eagerly awaiting a fuck. Anthony tilted his head back and moaned softly as he rubbed his nipple, his other hand going to his crotch to rub himself through the singlet.

"Sexy wrestler, huh? You wanna come on over here and wrestle with me for a little bit?"

Anthony forced a seductive smile upon his lips and gave Greg a wink. He approached the bed slowly, strutting with an attitude the way he had seen the models on the catwalk do. He stopped when he was between Greg's legs; then sexily climbed up onto the bed, crawling over Greg. He planted a kiss on Greg's lips, and the prefect kissed him back roughly. Crap, he's in one of his rough moods.

Anthony straddled the prefect's lap and started to grind his crotch back and forth against Greg's erection. The older boy clamped his hands tightly on Anthony's butt and held the boy against him as he started to hump his own hips. His tongue invaded Anthony's mouth, probing around like an excited slug. Anthony resisted the urge to gag as he curled his own tongue around Greg's. If it had been Mr.

Thorvald or Mr. Fisher, Anthony would have relished it, but since the tongue was Greg's, it made him want to puke.

There was a ripping sound as Greg tore a hole in the bottom of the singlet. A draft briefly wafted over Anthony's exposed anus, which was quickly replaced with the rough probing of Greg's finger. Without any lube, the prefect shoved two of his fingers inside, causing the younger boy to wince.

"Whatsa matter? Don't like it that rough?"

"Nuh 3; no, it's fine."

The fingers wiggled around inside his rectum, and Anthony forced another smile on his lips.

This seemed to annoy Greg, who forced another dry finger inside. He began to push his fingers in and out, which stung. Anthony tried to ignore the mild pain in his hole as he dropped his head to suck on Greg's neck. The prefect seemed less interested in making out now, and was focused on what he was doing with Anthony's poor anus.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit outta this tight ass," Greg hissed in his ear.

Anthony nodded, and then licked his way up Greg's neck and chin to his lips. He pushed his tongue into the prefect's mouth, hoping but failing to distract him. The skin of his anus was getting sore without any lubrication, and he hoped that Greg would at least use some when they had sex. As if reading his mind, Greg chuckled cruelly.

"Tell ya what," he said, "I'll give you thirty seconds to lube up my cock, but you're gonna have to use your mouth."

To Anthony's relief, the fingers were removed from his ass and he looked up at Greg. The prefect looked back at him with a sly grin and waited about five seconds before speaking again.

"That's five seconds already gone. Better hurry."

Anthony quickly slid down and planted himself between Greg's legs. He took hold of the large cock in one hand, and after a moment of working up some saliva in his mouth, he opened it and popped the head of Greg's cock into his mouth. He gagged; he could taste the Asian boy's ass on Greg's cock.

As he worked his way down the stiffened rod, he tried to generate more saliva to coat it. Strands of his spit ran down the sides of the throbbing erection and pooled in the prefect's pubic hair.

Working quickly, he stopped sucking on the tip and titled his head to lather up the sides. In his head, he kept count of the passing seconds; nine 3; ten 3; eleven 3; When he had reached sixteen, Greg grabbed hold of his shoulders and forced him to rise up. Wait, it hasn't been long enough yet, he wanted to protest, but held his tongue. He knew better than to talk back to Greg when he was horny.

The prefect rose from the bed and stripped the singlet off Anthony, then pushed the boy backwards, down onto the mattress. Anthony lay back and put his hands on his knees, bending them to allow Greg access to his hole. The older boy's prick hovered just above his anus, prepared to be forced inside.

"You ready, Anthony?"

Anthony nodded and was immediately assaulted by the hardened pole. Greg shoved himself inside roughly and collapsed upon the boy. The suddenness of Greg's body landing upon his own made Anthony wheeze as the breath was knocked out of him. Greg sank himself fully inside Anthony's rectum, and the boy could feel the prefect's pubic hair tickling his perineum. Without a moment's respite, the prefect began to thrust himself in and out of the younger child, his balls making small slapping sounds as they slammed against Anthony's ass.

Anthony didn't complain; instead he wrapped his legs around Greg's hips. I wish I had more time to lubricate his cock, Anthony thought as he raked his hands up and down the prefect's bare back. Greg's mouth was all over Anthony's neck, first slobbering and sucking on one side, then the other.

Anthony started to rub his own cock up and down on Greg's stomach, hoping to get a little enjoyment out of the situation.

"Ow," Anthony said as Greg bit his neck.

He hadn't meant to say anything, but the nip took him by surprise. He could feel a small trickle of blood run down his neck as Greg propped himself up on his hands and looked down at him.

"You gonna bitch too, now?"

"Nuh 3; no, Greg. I 3; I was j-just s-surprised," Anthony said between feigned moans.

"I don't like it when you little bitches complain," Greg said without breaking his rhythm. "I'm sorry, it w-was 3;"

That was as far as Anthony got. Greg had put his hands around the boy's neck and started to squeeze. Anthony choked and tried to cough while Greg continued to pound away at his sore ass. He wrapped his hands around Greg's forearms and tried to pull the older boy's hands away, but the prefect was too strong. Anthony's face turned bright red as he struggled for breath.

He tilted his head back, trying to open a small gap in his airway, but Greg's hands clenched down tightly around his throat. Anthony now started to panic, and he dug his nails into the flesh of Greg's arms and scratched, trying to stop the assault. Greg's smiling face hovered above him like that of a demon, enjoying every second of his prey's suffering. In his excitement, a string of saliva dripped down from Greg's mouth and spattered on Anthony's cheek. Anthony thrashed his head from side to side, hoping to catch a quick gasp of air, but it didn't work.

He unwrapped his legs from Greg's hips and lowered them onto the bed, searching for traction with his feet and pushing with all his strength as he tried to buck the prefect off of him. It was a pointless attempt; the prefect had him right where he wanted him, and he wasn't going to let Anthony up until he had achieved his orgasm.

Stars flashed around as Anthony's vision started to dim. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, trying to gasp for air. Although he couldn't feel it, Greg had pushed his cock deep inside of Anthony's bum one final time, and then it began to pulse. As his cum filled the younger boy's rectum, Greg let out a low moan. Then, he stopped choking the boy and collapsed on top of him.

Now that his airway was open, Anthony coughed. He tried to roll over away from his tormentor, but the prefect's body was pinning him down. His hands flew to his throat and held it as he gagged and gasped. The flashes of light faded and his vision returned. Although he wasn't entirely free, he was at least able to breathe again.

"Now that's what I call a good screw," Greg panted.

When Anthony had regained enough control of himself, he carefully wrapped his hands around Greg's back. He had to pretend to still be attracted to Greg, or the prefect would get angry and might start slapping him. Greg looked down at him and kissed the tip of his nose sweetly, then lifted himself off Anthony and the bed. He walked over to the vanity and picked up a pack of Camel cigarettes.

Digging through a drawer, he found a lighter and lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply and then exhaling a big puff of smoke.

While his back was turned, Anthony scowled at him and wiped away the spittle from his cheek.

This is why he hated Greg, and had been so angry when Mr. Thorvald chose Milo to warm his bed. Jealousy played a major part too, but it was mostly because of this. Anthony knew from experience that Greg would abuse him, and he wanted no part of it, not now, and not ever.

The older boy's cum was still oozing out of his anus, staining the sheets of the round mattress. As usual, after sex with Greg, Anthony felt cheap and used; like a disgusting whore. As he lay on the bed, watching his tormentor smoke, Anthony hoped and prayed that the prefect had had enough sex for one night, and that tomorrow night Mr. Thorvald would choose him instead of Milo.

***

Wow, this one's a keeper!

Ivor was thoroughly enjoying his evening with Milo. After the kid's initial misgivings were allayed, the boy jumped right into his role. They played dress up for a while, Ivor lying on the bed in his boxer shorts while the giggling boy tried on different costumes. The first had been a cowboy costume; rawhide chaps with an open ass and crotch, a denim vest, cowboy hat, boots with spurs, a leather belt with double holsters, and two cap guns. The boy playfully posed for Ivor, first leaning up against the tall bedpost, then taking out the cap guns and having a gunfight with an imaginary enemy. Ivor loved the way the boy's penis bounced around as he played, and his ass looked stunning in the chaps.

Next came a Robin costume. Milo made a delightful sidekick, and the small bulge in the green tights looked ever more delightful. As the boy did a somersault across the king-sized mattress, Ivor gave his ass a playful slap. Milo giggled and took it in stride, pulling the back of the tights down to reveal his bare bum and posing like the Coppertone girl. Ivor laughed and clapped as the boy went to the large closet to select another costume.

The next one was a girl's costume, a red belly dancer's costume. It consisted of a pink veil and dangly clip-on earrings, a red bra and red harem dress. The see-through dress was split down the sides to reveal his bare legs, and was attached to a gold belt that sat low on the boy's hips. This particular costume made Ivor's penis begin to stir, and what happened next took him completely by surprise.

"Watch what I can do," the boy said as he slinked over to stand beside the bed.

Milo sucked in his stomach and started to roll his stomach muscles. Ivor gasped audibly; the boy actually knew how to belly dance! Ivor watched the performance in awe for a few seconds, and then quickly hopped off the mattress.

"Hold on," he said as he crossed the room to a stereo, "let's make that official."

As luck would have it, he just happened to have a cd with some darbuka music on it. He put on the cd, and the room was filled with the sound of goblet drums, tambourines, and finger cymbals. Ivor hurried back to the bed and the boy began his dance.

Moving to the rhythm, Milo swirled himself around the bedpost. He kicked his leg up and spun a few circles. Moving closer to Ivor, he placed his hands behind his head, spread his legs apart, and rolled his belly muscles. Ivor clapped with delight as the boy danced, alternating between the belly dance and other body gyrations. He's really, Ivor thought, I'm going to have some fun with this one!

At one point, as the boy rolled his belly right in front of Ivor, the man placed his hand on the boy's stomach. He could feel the muscles contracting and releasing below the boy's warm skin. Beneath the see-through harem dress, he could make out the boy's flaccid penis. He dropped his hand to the crotch of the dress, fondling the hairless cocklet through the material. Milo smiled and shook his head, then gently slapped his hand away.

"Uh uh, look but don't touch."

Ivor chuckled; the boy was a tease. He was glad that the boy had gotten over his shyness, and even better – that the kid was a bit kinky. In Ivor's little black book of boys, this lovely child was going to get five stars.

The music came to an end, and Milo strutted back to the closet to select another costume. It was a Dracula costume, complete with wide-collared cape, puffy white shirt, velvet vest, pendant, pants, and fake fangs. The boy raised his arms and hissed at Ivor, and then grabbed the cape and covered his nose and mouth with his arm.

"I vant to suck your blood," he said in his best Romanian accent. "Mmmm, I'd rather have you suck something else."

Milo gave him a cheeky grin and giggled. He then flung his arm back and flapped his arms as he ran around the room, hopping onto the bed and springing back off. Ivor grabbed hold of him and pulled him down onto the mattress, tickling the boy's sides relentlessly. Milo laughed and squirmed around in his arms, trying to get away.

"Well ain't you just the cuddliest little vampire I've ever seen?"

"Stuh 3; stop! You're guh-gonna make me pee!"

"I don't have a problem with that," Ivor winked.

He let the boy up, and Milo hurried to the closet to pick another costume from the walk-in closet. He took longer than he had before, and Ivor wondered what the boy was up to. When he emerged, Milo was wearing a naughty nurse outfit. It consisted of a white hat with a red cross on it, a red stethoscope, a white bra with red cross, a frilly white garter belt over white panties, red stockings, and white platform heels. The boy had also applied some makeup to his face; black mascara and eyeliner, pink eye shadow, reddish blush and bright red lipstick. Looking at the young beauty before him, Ivor felt his cock rise.

"Oh my 3;"

Milo walked slowly over to the mattress, moving his hips sexily as he approached. He crawled across the mattress on all fours and knelt beside Ivor. He picked up the stethoscope, placed the earpieces into his ears, and placed the chest-piece upon Ivor's chest.

"Hmm, your heart sounds good," the boy said.

He then slid the stethoscope down over Ivor's stomach, listening closely for a second. "I can hear your tummy grumbling, you must be hungry."

"Oh yes, I certainly am."

Ivor was fully erect inside his boxers, which tented upwards. Milo licked his lips and slowly slid the stethoscope down to Ivor's crotch. He placed the chest-piece directly on Ivor's cock and listened intently.

"Hehe, something else sounds hungry, too."

It was about all Ivor could stand. He placed his hands on Milo's sides and guided the boy onto his lap. Milo came willingly, straddling Ivor's crotch as he took the stethoscope out of his ears and tossed it onto the floor. Ivor looked down and saw that the small bulge in Milo's panties was starting to grow. The bump of the boy's scrotum sat directly on top of the head of Ivor's erection. He grinded his hard-on against the boy's bum crack and scrotum, while his hands rubbed up and down Milo's bare sides.

Milo tilted his head back and put his hands behind his head. He matched Ivor's rhythm, slowly thrusting his hips back and forth across the man's hard cock. Ivor placed his hands on the boy's slender shoulders and gently brought the boy down until they were lying face to face. He kissed Milo, and the youth returned the kiss eagerly. He grasped one cheek in each hand and began to massage and knead the boy's bum while they continued to grind their clothed erections together.

As much as Ivor wanted to have sex with this wonderful lad, he decided that tonight would be all about the boy's pleasure. Ivor could wait until tomorrow to please himself, and this way Milo would feel more comfortable and willing to try new things. After kissing for a few more minutes, Ivor broke it off and whispered in the boy's ear.

"Lie back on the bed, baby."

Milo nodded and rolled off him. Ivor got up and went to the foot of the bed. He grabbed hold of Milo's ankles and carefully pulled Milo towards him, stopping once Milo's knees were at the edge of the mattress. Then, Ivor knelt down between the boy's legs and started to lick and nibble at the bulge beneath the white panties.

Milo moaned softly and placed a hand on the back of Ivor's head. Beneath the soft lace panties, Milo's erect cocklet was twitching slightly, begging to be let loose. Ivor obliged; instead of unstrapping the garter clips, he grabbed hold of the panties firmly and ripped them apart. Milo's stiff, hairless cock stood straight up, pointing towards the boy's chin. Before actually touching it, Ivor puckered his lips and blew on it gently.

Milo moaned again, and then began to coo softly. He slid his hips side to side on the mattress in a sort of hypnotic dance. Ivor licked his lips and blew again. He could smell the warmth of the boy's sex as the musk hit his nostrils. When he could take no more, he leaned in and took the boy's penis into his mouth.

Milo gasped and stiffened as soon as his mouth clamped around the cocklet. Then, the boy emitted a low moan and began to move his hips back and forth, pumping himself in and out of Ivor's mouth. The boy tasted wonderful; like boy candy. It was the taste that Ivor was completely addicted to, and he indulged himself every chance he got. Nothing in the world tasted finer than a young boy's sex.

Milo's head was thrust back and he had both hands on the back of Ivor's head, threading his fingers through the man's hair. Ivor put his own hands on Milo's thighs and lifted them up over his shoulders. Then, he stopped sucking momentarily to wet his finger before resuming. He placed one hand on the boy's stomach, circling the dimpled belly button with a finger, while his other hand went to the valley of the boy's crack.

He traced his wet finger down until he came to the boy's puckered hole. At his touch, the anus quivered. Ivor first massaged it a little to relax it, then, when the time was right, he gently pushed the finger inside. The motion caused Milo to whimper, and Ivor felt the muscles in the boy's thighs flex on either side of his head. Ivor worked slowly, moving his finger in, inch by inch, until he located that special spot near the prostate. This he started to rub slowly, back and forth and in circular motions.

Milo continued to pump himself in and out of Ivor's mouth. The boy was in total ecstasy, unaware of anything else around him. Every ounce of the boy's concentration was focused solely on these sources of pleasure, the warm, wet cavern enclosing his cocklet, and the probing finger that was carefully rubbing him inside. Ivor knew exactly what he was doing; he had years of practice and experience, and he used those skills well.

Removing the boy's cock from his mouth, Ivor moved down to the boy's anus. He pressed his nose up to the boy's love hole and inhaled deeply. Perfect. Above him, Milo moaned once again as Ivor first kissed, then ran his tongue over the hairless anus. His hand went to the youngster's cocklet, which was waving in the air, begging for attention. He started to rub it as his tongue slipped inside the delicious hole.

He spent a few minutes rimming the boy, and then licked his way back up to Milo's scrotum, which he inhaled into his mouth. His finger found the boy's hole again as he rolled the smooth testicles around in his mouth, tickling the base of the scrotum with the tip of his tongue. Milo's moans of pleasure turned into a rhythmic chant of 'oh 3; oh 3; oh 3; ' The high-pitched voice was music to Ivor's ears, and he knew the boy was lost in that wonderful zone of ultimate pleasure.

Ivor gave the boy's balls a final suck before returning to the cocklet. He ran the tip of his tongue around the rim of the boy's head, and then flicked it across the pee slit a few times. Milo's chant became louder, signaling that the boy was nearing his orgasm. Ivor quickly lowered his mouth around the boy's erection and sucked it furiously, twirling his tongue around it.

Milo's right leg dropped to the floor, his left leg tensed around Ivor's shoulder. While Ivor fingered the boy's hole and played with the youngster's belly button, Milo pumped himself in and out of Ivor's mouth. His chants were now little more than high-pitched pants. Milo pressed his finger firmly against the youngster's prostate and sucked hard with all of his might. The boy made a sudden squealing sound, and then Ivor felt the boy's cocklet come alive in his mouth; pulsing and jumping around like a jackrabbit.

There was no cum; the boy had just experienced a very powerful dry orgasm. As he lay panting heavily with his eyes pinched shut and his head thrust back, Ivor gave the head of the boy's still pulsing cocklet a quick kiss. He slowly pulled his finger from the boy's anus and brought it to the front of his boxers, fishing his own stiff prick out of the slit in the material.

He stood up, rubbing himself roughly as he did. He bent over the gasping boy, his free hand traveling across the boy's stomach to his chest. He gently circled the erect nipple with his finger, and then softly gave it a pinch. As he did so, he felt his own orgasm rising in his loins. He bended his knees to bring the head of his cock up to Milo's, then gave himself another final stroke. His cock exploded, showering the boy's crotch and stomach with semen. At the feeling of the warm wetness on his hot young body, Milo finally opened his eyes and looked down at Ivor.

"Oh wow, that was 3; hot!" the boy exclaimed. "Glad ya liked it."

Ivor held his cock between his fingers as the last remaining drops dripped out onto Milo's now softening penis. The boy dipped a finger into one of the puddles and brought it to his tongue, tasting it.

"How does it taste, babe?"

"Kinda weird," Milo answered, making a face.

Ivor chuckled and removed his boxer shorts. Then, he walked to the side of the bed and lay down on the mattress. Milo crawled up to lay beside him, wrapping his legs around Ivor's and placing his hand upon the man's chest. As Milo lay his head on the man's shoulder, Ivor put an arm around the boy and held him close. Together they fell asleep this way, comfortable and secure in each other's arms.

***

Anthony curled up beneath the silk sheets in the round bed. Greg had flipped the switch after the choking session, which made the bed stop spinning. Right now, the prefect was on the opposite side of the mattress, snoring softly. Anthony preferred it this way; Greg couldn't bother him in his sleep.

When they had finished having – for lack of a better word – "sex," Greg had smoked a cigarette, and then walked out into the hall to find the Asian houseboy. The poor kid had escaped the sadistic prefect, and Anthony knew that the boy would have to pay for it. Anthony cried a little while Greg was gone, then dried his eyes, and pretended to fall asleep. He had been scared that the vicious prefect would go too far and kill him during the episode, and now that it was over, he was racked with all the emotions of being abused.

Greg had returned an hour later, and Anthony pretended to be sleeping. He almost started to shiver with fear when the prefect stood over him, but luckily, Greg had simply crawled into the bed and was soon snoring. Anthony wanted to sleep, but his mind didn't seem to want to shut off. He kept replaying the horror in his thoughts, the horrible feeling of those strong hands closing around his throat, the burning of his lungs as they screamed for air, the helpless feeling of being totally under someone else's control. The fresh memory haunted him as he lay in the bed, keeping him awake into the early hours of the morning.

In fact, he was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice when Greg stopped snoring; nor did he hear the soft noise of cellophane crinkling.

What he did notice was when the older boy shifted his weight on the bed. He quickly snapped his eyes shut and feigned some snores. He was facing away from Greg, so the prefect hadn't been able to see his eyes open. There was more movement on the mattress behind him, and then he could feel warmth on his back from the older boy's body heat.

God, now what does he want? Hopefully, Greg would just fondle him, maybe fuck him a little.

The stiff cock that suddenly began probing around for his anus confirmed this. Anthony continued pretending to be asleep, but he prepared himself for another rough fuck; Greg wasn't lubed up and it was going to be harsh.

When the prefect pushed in, Anthony couldn't help gasping. Without any lube at all, it was painful. He started to turn around to ask if Greg could please use some lube, when something was pulled over his head. It quickly clenched around his face, and when his eyes flew open, his vision was blurred. Greg had placed a plastic bag over his head and was twisting the end at the back of his neck.

Suddenly, he forgot all about the pain in his ass. It was replaced with the utter terror of being choked again. One hand was pinned beneath his body, and his other hand flew to his neck. He couldn't get his fingers beneath the bag because Greg was twisting it tightly in his fist. Anthony's hand flew to his open mouth as he tried to tear a hole in the bag with his finger, but Greg seized his wrist and pulled it away.

Anthony tried to scream for help; if Ivor heard, he would put a stop to this. Unfortunately, the bag was squeezing around his face and he couldn't inhale at all. He tried to exhale but there was no air in his lungs. He was vaguely aware of Greg's member pumping in and out of him as he struggled. He tried to buck his body, but the prefect had scissored him with his legs. With one arm pinned beneath his own body and his other arm held fast by Greg, all Anthony could think to do was to rock his body back and forth in an effort to free himself.

He's going to kill me, was the thought that kept running through his brain, I'm going to die here! His lungs were on fire as he struggled with the prefect, and his vision once again started to fade. Those strange flashes of bright lights swam in front of his eyes again. He fought hard to breathe, just breathe! He could feel a numbness in his extremities and chest, which began to fan out across his entire body. A distant ringing flooded his ears, and then, the darkness overtook him and he knew no more.

***

Pain, intense pain. Anthony's body felt numb all over, except for the intense stinging in his ass. Something was pounding hard against his bum, and each inward thrust made his intestines flare up with fire. He couldn't move his limbs, and when he opened his eyes, everything appeared gray. He was still lying on his side, but his arms were bound behind his back. He could breathe, but every breath made his chest tingle and hurt. His face and his entire body felt like a worn lump of clay.

A small puddle of drool and mucus had collected on the mattress beneath his mouth and nose. When he struggled to lift his head, a strand of this substance came with it, stretching until it broke. The ringing in his ears faded slightly, and he could hear the gruff panting behind him as Greg continued to fuck him.

"Awake?" came the sadistic voice from behind him. " 3; Whagaagug 3;"

Words wouldn't form on his tongue. It hurt his throat to make sounds, so he didn't try again. He tried to move his hands but found that he could only pull them a couple of inches apart. Greg must have put the fuzzy pink handcuffs on him while he was unconscious. When he tried to roll over, the prefect held him down.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard while you're out," Greg whispered menacingly.

The crinkle of cellophane, and the bag was once more slipped over Anthony's head. It tightened around his face again and he tried to struggle against it. It wasn't much of a fight though, since he was still worn out from his previous exertion. He wobbled back and forth a little bit, then the fire in his lungs intensified and his vision spun around him. He blacked out again as the ringing in his ears reached deafening levels.

***

When he came to again, he was lying on his back. His tormentor was kneeling between his legs and was still fucking him vigorously. Along with the numbness engulfing his entire body, his arms felt as though they were being pricked by thousands of pins and needles. His wrists were still bound by the handcuffs, and his arms were pinned beneath his own body.

His vision was all blurry, and at first, he thought the bag was still over his head. Slowly, he realized that he was breathing and that the blurriness was from his own eyes. He had to blink several times to clear them, and although the fuzziness went away, his vision was still dim. The prefect above him appeared only as a shadowy silhouette; the faded red light behind him giving him a demonic appearance. Anthony was no longer being fucked by Greg, he was being fucked by a demon straight from hell.

"Almost 3; there 3;" the demon panted in Greg's voice.

Anthony shook his head as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. As they rolled down his cheeks, the demon/Greg laughed at him.

"What, you gonna cry like a little bitch now? Go ahead and cry, cry like the little whore that you

are."

The shadowy figure picked something up that had been lying next to Anthony. It slipped the bag down over his head, and once again, Anthony couldn't breathe. He's 3; going 3; to 3; to 3; k-kill 3; muh 3; me 3; Anthony didn't bother putting up much of a fight this time. The only reaction was a slight attempt to wiggle away, which was more of an involuntary response from his body's will to live. As soon as the darkness reared its ugly head, Anthony gave up and dove in, wishing for a quick and relatively painless death.

***

Anthony didn't die. When he woke up, his body ached and burned. He was in more pain than he thought possible. He couldn't move, although he was no longer bound. He was lying on his side and his mouth was open. Aside from a thick gooey substance that was pooled inside his cheek, his mouth was completely dry. Anthony tried to swallow, but it was difficult. When he finally managed to, he found that the thick liquid that had been in his cheek was semen.

Swallowing had taken most of the strength he had left, and he allowed himself to drift back into unconsciousness for a few moments. When he awoke again several minutes later, he lay still, focusing all his energy on breathing. His anus still felt like it was on fire, but he didn't really care very much.

The ability to breathe was enough for him, for now.

Eventually, he had saved up enough strength to open his eyes and lift his head. When he did, he saw that Greg was sitting cross-legged on the small chair that sat in front of the vanity. The prefect had a cigarette between his fingers and was trying to blow smoke rings into the stale air.

"Good, you're awake."

Greg waited as if he was expecting Anthony to say something, but it still hurt to talk. When the boy didn't answer, Greg inhaled another puff from his Camel and went on.

"I'm finished now, you can go to sleep. But, before you do, let me tell you what will happen if you mention this to anybody. I'm Mister Fisher's right-hand man, so I would deny it; tell him it was just a game of 'knock-out' that went wrong. Who do you think he will believe? Who is more important in this school, to Fisher, to Thorvald? Even if they were inclined to believe you, their interest would have them stand by my side"

Greg puffed on the Camel again and exhaled another smoke ring into the boy's face.

"You and I both know that your parents don't give a shit about you. Think what is at stake; the only reason you were accepted into the club is because of me. I'm the one who found you and brought you to Mister Fisher. Without me, you'd be nothing. I made you what you are in this school, and I can tear it all back from you, remember that. I can make your life as miserable as I want, and I can make sure it will stay that way even after I'm gone."

He picked up his well-used plastic bag again and Anthony cringed. Knowing he had the boy frightened, Greg squinted his eyes at the cowering child.

"If you try to tell or misbehave, I might even creep on you one night, or one day. Find a quiet place for the two of us and have a little 3; fun 3; once again. Only this time, I'll go all the way, if you know what I mean," he finished with a cold and deadly smile.

Anthony believed him. Greg may or may not actually kill him, but after suffocating him several times, there wasn't much doubt in Anthony's mind that he was capable of it. Besides, Greg was right; with his clout and if he ruled it so, Anthony would become an outcast, wanted neither by his parents, nor by anybody else. In a boarding school, being labeled an outcast could be a fate worse than death 3; at least, that's what Anthony thought.

Greg was dangerous, but he was also one of the most important members of the club – after Mr. Fisher, of course, and he had lots of influence among the boys. Unless Anthony wanted to throw away the status he had worked so hard to achieve, he would have to keep quiet about this. School would be out in a couple months, and because the prefect was graduating at the end of spring, Anthony would never have to see him again. All he had to do was to avoid him for a few more weeks, and he would be safe. He could do that; he had to do it.

Anthony's strength was slowly returning to him, and the numbness was wearing off. His bum and throat still burned pretty badly, but it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. Tomorrow, he would make sure to stay close to Mr. Thorvald; Greg wouldn't dare do anything as long as the adult was present. When they returned to school the following evening, he would give the prefect wide berth from then on.

Slowly, Anthony nodded to show that he understood and would keep his mouth shut. This satisfied Greg, who gave him a saucy smile.

"Good," he said, taking another drag of his smoke, "I'm leaving tomorrow morning to spend a quiet day with my family. Go ahead and get some sleep now, you look pretty worn out and I want you to look well-rested tomorrow morning."

Anthony nodded again and rolled over, pulling the covers over his shivering body. He half expected it to be another sadistic joke and waited for Greg to pounce on him again. It didn't happen though, and because he was utterly exhausted, Anthony soon found sleep; although it was a troubled sleep filled with breathless and terrifying nightmares.

***

Ivor woke up feeling very well rested. To his right, Milo was snoring those little boy snores, still clinging to him. Sometime during the night, he must have pulled the sheets over them because they were now covered up to their necks. He kissed the boy on the crown, and then stretched his muscles. The movement caused the boy to stir. Milo yawned, then opened his eyes and looked up at Ivor. "Good morning, Mister Thorvald."

"Mornin' Milo. How'd ya sleep?"

Milo still had sleepy eyes and he smiled a lopsided grin that made him look intoxicated. It reminded Ivor of a Nirvana t-shirt he once saw; one with a goofy looking smiley face.

"Good," the boy said as he stretched.

"What kinda food do you like for breakfast?"

Ivor kissed the boy's forehead as Milo thought about it. He was expecting the boy to ask for waffles or pancakes or something like that, but the kid's answer surprised him.

"You."

As the boy said it, his hand dropped down below the covers to Ivor's penis. Milo gave it a little squeeze and smiled up at Ivor. Hoo boy, this one certainly is a live wire! Ivor returned his smile while his hand drifted across the boy's chest, playing with one of the nipples.

"You sure about that, Milo? You said it tasted 'kinda weird' last night, remember?"

"Mhmm, I'm sure."

God, he looks so adorable! Ivor had been with many boys, but none had taken to him quite so quickly as Milo had. Anthony had been a close second, but even he had taken more time to work on. Ivor's right arm was still underneath the boy, and he now used it to scoop the boy up and roll the tender young body onto his chest.

"Alright, but first I wanna little taste of you."

He leaned in and kissed the boy, who closed his eyes and kissed back. Ivor felt the boy's soft penis mashed up against his own hardening member. He slid his hands down to the boy's butt, grabbing a bum cheek in each hand, and he began to knead them softly, like fresh dough.

"Mmmm," Ivor said, "you are the best tasting breakfast I have ever had."

Milo giggled and kissed Ivor again. He then kissed Ivor's neck quickly before ducking down beneath the covers. Ivor felt the boy's hot lips plant a kiss in the middle of his chest, then on both of his nipples. Milo slid down further and Ivor felt a wet tongue probing his navel. Holy shit, this kid's a fucking natural!

His cock was fully hard before Milo got to it, and now the boy slid down farther and Ivor could feel the warm breath spreading across his crotch. The boy's hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock, and then he felt that wonderful feeling of a boy's mouth nestling cozily over the head of his penis.

Milo's tongue danced first around the head and then up the urethra slit, as Ivor moaned uncontrollably. The boy had a gift, and he knew how to use it.

More of his cock slid into Milo's mouth, and then he felt the boy's fingertips lightly tickling the underside of his scrotum. Ivor placed his hands on the boy's head – not to push down since he didn't want to make him gag, but only to run his fingers through the soft blond hair. He gently massaged the boy's scalp while Milo sucked him off lovingly.

Knowing how hot it could get beneath the covers, Ivor grabbed hold of the upper corner of the sheets and threw them back. He looked down and saw that Milo was kneeling, his legs tucked up underneath his body as he sucked and fondled Ivor's ballsack. The man tried to pump his hips slowly, but it made Milo gag. He stopped and lay still, letting Milo take in as much as he could handle while rubbing the shaft with one hand, and tickling the scrotum with the other.

A knock at the door startled them, and Milo stopped sucking and looked up at Ivor. His face looked guilty, as if he had been caught doing something bad. Ivor smiled at him and mouthed the words "it's okay," and the boy nodded and went back to work on his cock.

"Come in," Ivor said.

There was the sound of the knob turning and the door opened. Anthony stepped into the room wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. When he saw the two on the bed, his face seemed to darken a little. Is that jealousy I see on his face? The look puzzled Ivor; Anthony knew that he slept with lots of boys and it had never bothered him before. Why would it bother him now?

"Good morning Anthony, did you sleep well?"

Milo was still busy with Ivor's cock, sucking on the head while he jerked the shaft with his hand. Anthony stared at them a moment longer before answering.

"Uh 3; yeah 3; I guess."

"What's up, bud?"

"I was just wondering when we were going to have breakfast."

"Gimme a few more minutes and I'll be down," Ivor said.

Anthony turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Now what was that all about? Ivor wondered. After watching the man make love to quite a few boys in front of him and often having joined them himself, why would Anthony suddenly become jealous of a simple blowjob? Something was bothering the boy, and Ivor would have to spend the morning trying to figure out what was wrong.

But, that would have to wait until he had finished. Man, this kid's an amazing cocksucker! Even though the boy wasn't able to get the large cock fully into his mouth, he more than made up for it with the way he used his tongue. Swirling it first around the head, then across the slit, and then tickling the corona with the tip, Milo was giving him one of the best blowjobs he ever had; definitely ranking within the top five.

"Ah shit, I'm gonna cum, baby."

Milo nodded and sucked harder, like a vacuum cleaner. His hand rubbed Ivor's shaft faster now, and within seconds Ivor felt his orgasm coming on. He moaned loudly as his cock began to pulse, sending load after load of cum into Milo's mouth. The boy swallowed it all, wincing a little as he did, then he stopped sucking and lay his chin upon Ivor's penis and looked up at the man.

"Was I good?" the boy asked.

"Oh yeah Milo, you were terrific!"

Milo smiled shyly and blushed a little. Ivor traced a finger across the boy's soft cheek and looked back down at him warmly.

"I love you," the boy whispered to him. "Love you too, buddy."

They lay like that for a few more minutes while Ivor waited for his erection to die down. Then, they got up and dressed for breakfast. Ivor went to his closet and pulled out a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.

"What do you want me to wear?" Milo asked. "Um 3; how about three socks?"

Milo laughed at the joke, but then he actually did as Ivor had asked. He went to the drawer of a large cabinet and pulled out three of Ivor's tube socks. He pulled one onto each foot, and wrapped the third around his soft cocklet. The foot end of the sock dangled down to his knees. As soon as he took his hands away, the sock fell to the floor. Ivor laughed uproariously, and Milo giggled a little as he picked up the sock and tried to get it to stay.

"Maybe if I'm hard," he said as he fumbled with the sock on his soft penis. "You'd need Viagra to stay that hard."

Ivor picked up a rubber band from his desk and tossed it to Milo.

"Here, try this; just don't keep it on for too long. I don't want that adorable little stick and those yummy berries to fall off."

Milo caught the rubber band, and grinning, he wrapped it around the end of the sock to hold it in place over his cock and scrotum.

"How do I look?"

"Delicious," Ivor said.

He walked over and kissed the boy on the head, gave the third sock a loving squeeze, and then the two of them went downstairs to break their fast.

***

"Another crepe for either of you fellas?"

Milo and Anthony looked up at Ivor and shook their heads. Ivor loved to cook for the boys; he had a cook and many other employees to take care of the mansion, but they were asked to remain invisible when he had young guests visiting. With the exception of his chauffeur, Max, the others kept mostly hidden within the huge mansion.

He had made them one of Anthony's favorite breakfasts this morning, strawberry and blueberry- filled crepes with whipped cream on top. Milo said he had never tried them before, but seemed to love them; quickly scarfing down three of the pastries. Anthony only ate about half of his, the rest of it he just pushed around the plate with his fork. Obviously, something was bothering the boy since he could normally pack away at least four of them. He had also been bickering with Milo, which wasn't like him at all.

"Aren't you hungry, Anthony?" Milo had asked him, "These are great!"

"Do I look hungry?" Anthony snapped.

"I-I guess not."

"So why are you bugging me? You can still eat 'em, don't let me stop you."

Milo turned back to his meal, looking hurt. From behind the large granite kitchen counter-top, Ivor frowned. Anthony was certainly in a sour mood this morning; he seemed to be jealous, and he had probably had a rough night. Ivor knew that Greg had a mean streak in him, one that he had probably used on Anthony. Max had also told him that the prefect had been aggressive with one of the houseboys, who had complained. Before the next visit, Ivor would need to have a serious talk with the prefect. Greg could do whatever he wanted at St Xavier or elsewhere, but here at the mansion, he needed to control himself. His usefulness and efficiency did not excuse this kind of behavior.

"Whatsa matter, Ant? You feelin' okay?"

"I guess 3;"

The boy's voice trailed off as he dissected his crepe. His head was propped up by his arm and he was staring down at the pastry on his plate. Anthony must really be upset; he was usually so jovial in the morning. Ivor put down his spatula and walked around the counter.

"I have something that might cheer you up, bud."

"Mhmm 3;"

"How would you boys like to spend the afternoon at Six Flags?" Milo's eyes lit up, but Anthony still seemed distracted.

"We can take my helicopter there."

Anthony finally looked up from his food. Since his first stay at the mansion, he had wanted to go on a helicopter ride, but so far, they had never been able to find the time. Now that it was finally being offered, the boy couldn't help taking an interest – even if it was only mildly.

"But it's a two-seater," Anthony said.

"I got a new one that can seat four Ant, but I thought that you might like to sit on my lap and learn how to fly it."

"Really? You'd actually let me fly your helicopter?"

"Yes, sitting on my lap in case something happens. I think it will be alright."

That did the trick. The offer to fly the chopper helped bring Anthony out of his funk. Suddenly, the boy seemed hungry again and started eating the other half of his crĂȘpe.

"Mister Thorvald, can you make a couple more? My appetite suddenly came back."

"Sure thing, kiddo," Ivor smiled as he turned back to the large stove.

***

There was a chapel service Sunday morning that Miles avoided. He didn't have any problems with religion, but sitting on a hard wooden pew for an hour wasn't exactly his cup of tea. Instead, he went on a five-mile run to keep himself in shape while the majority of the campus was at mass. He would have gone farther, but his knee could not support him for longer distances. Afterwards, he showered, dressed, and after stopping by the dining hall to pick up a sack lunch, he went to the stables to prepare for the afternoon's ride.

Miles was standing in front of a group of boys, checking their names off his list. Behind him, the horses had been readied and were waiting for their riders in the stables. Beside Matthew and Bob's names he had written the names of the horses they wanted to ride; Chief Thunder and Orcrist. Walt Turner and the Edward twins had already picked their mounts. As he called out the other names on the sheet, each of the remaining boys would request a specific horse.

"Johnny Fink?"

"Here, Mister Dunn."

Miles recognized the boy as one of Matthew's roommates; the one who had put on the little dick-waving show in the showers on Friday. Miles smiled at the boy as the picture of that hairless young cocklet swinging back and forth between the boy's legs played out in his mind.

"Can I ride Glamdring?"

"Uh 3; sorry," Miles said as he scanned the list, "Brad already requested him."

"Crud. Then can I ride Prickly Pete?"

"Yep. Mister Fink on Prickly Pete."

He marked down the horse's name beside Johnny's, and then read out the next name. "Sven Lindquist?"

"I'm here," said a boy that Miles recognized from his interviews. "Which horse would you like to ride?"

"Um 3; Shiva."

"Alright, Shiva it is."

He marked down the horse's name, and then read the last name on the list. "You must be Silvio, then."

"Yes sir," the young boy answered.

"There are two horses left, one for you and one for me. I'll let you pick the one you want."

The boy grinned at him. He was certainly cute, about ten years old and clearly of Italian descent. His jet black eyes matched his hair that was greased back, and his skin tone was olive. When he spoke, Miles noticed a strong Brooklyn accent, though whether it was his natural accent or one the boy purposefully put on for show, Miles wasn't sure.

"Lemme get Dandelion."

When the kid said the horse's name, it came out sounding like 'Dandeh-loyin'. "Silvio 3; Dandelion. Got it."

That left Peppermint for Dunn. Of the thirteen available horses, four others had already been selected by students to be ridden during the day, and one had a sprained ankle. A fourteenth horse named Luscent was privately owned by Louise Simons, and wasn't available to the students. In fact, according to some of the boy's gossip that Miles had overheard, no one dared to go near the splendid animal because the strict Math teacher would issue demerits to any student that so much as touched her horse.

All the boys looked good and made a nice bunch; Miles hoped that they would not be too wild. He understood Matthew had brought his bedmates and Bob brought some of his pals from Puma house; it seemed that it had been Walt who had asked Sven to come along.

"Alright boys, let's bring the horses out and mount up."

Miles folded up the list and stuck it in his front pocket as he followed the boys into the stable.

Each stable had a wooden sign hanging above the entrance, and each sign had the resident horse's name burned into it. Miles walked down the aisle until he came to Peppermint's stable. Inside stood a pretty blue roan Kentucky Mountain horse, prepared to ride with the saddle pad, saddle, girth, and bridle already in place. Miles held his hand up as he neared the magnificent animal, allowing it to sniff him. The horse was used to giving rides to many different students, and it took to him almost immediately.

Miles gave the horse's nose a few strokes, then removed the reigns from the post and guided the horse out of the stables. While he waited for the rest of the students to bring out their horses, he gently petted the animal's nose and neck. The horse responded by nudging his shoulder with it's nose; a sign that it was ready to be mounted. Miles gave the horse's mane a final stroke, then placed his left foot in the stirrup, and hoisted himself up and into the saddle. The horse took a single step backwards due to the change in weight, but recovered quickly.

When the last boy had left the stables and each one had mounted his horse, Miles explained to them that instead of taking one of the many horse trails through the woods today, they would be riding along the fence that sectioned off the boundaries of the school property. Miles and each of the boys had brought a bagged lunch with them, and he announced that they would have a picnic sometime during the ride for the afternoon mealtime. He had also brought a large picnic blanket, which was rolled up and tied behind his saddle. With everybody ready and anxious to go, Miles set out with the boys following behind.

They rode the horses through the wooden paddock fence and headed West along the tree line. When they came to the rickety barbed wire fence that surrounded the school property line, they turned due north, walking slowly beside the fence. Miles's horse was the only one that had any problems; it kept wanting to turn and follow one of the horse paths that it was accustomed to, and he had to occasionally pull the reins to the left to keep the animal going where he wanted. The other horses were used to following the lead horse, so they didn't seem to give the boys any problems.

They rode single file, the boys laughing and joking with each other behind Miles. He was busy checking the perimeter fence for signs of damage, but he also listened to what the boys were saying. He knew that the best way to get to know them was to listen to the way they talked and what interested them. Being the boylover that he was, Miles was fascinated by their gossip and he loved the sound of their boyish voices.

After about a half mile, they climbed a slight hill and descended the other side. The woods were thicker here, the apple and dogwood trees thinning out and giving way to the larger oak, maple, and pine trees. As the bright summer sunlight disappeared behind the boughs above, the temperature dropped by about five degrees. Miles continued to lead the horse along the old looking woven wire fence, the boys following behind. Their chattering had died down, and they rode steadily in silence for a while.

When they were about a mile from the horse compound, the woods on the opposite side of the fence cleared a bit. Beyond the thin line of trees, Miles could see a field where a number of cows were grazing. Beyond the pasture was a cornfield with rows of early corn stretching out for several acres. A metal silo stood at the far end of the cornfield, and further beyond it Miles could make out the roofs of a farmhouse and barn. Miles made a mental note to check with the headmaster about who owned the farm that bordered the west perimeter.

A peculiar movement at the opposite end of the cow pasture caught Miles's eye, and when he turned to look, he noticed a young boy wearing coveralls sitting atop the fence. From this distance, Miles couldn't tell how old the boy was, perhaps ten or eleven. The boy was facing due south watching a group of cows, and he wouldn't be able to see Miles or his troop through the woods on their side of the fence. He thought that the noise of the horses would alert the kid to their presence, but the wind was blowing to the northeast, away from the fence sitter.

As Miles watched, the boy lifted his hand to his mouth for a second, then dropped it and exhaled a small puff of cigarette smoke. He was too far away to be certain, but it appeared that the kid might be barefoot. The boy again lifted his hand to his mouth and emitted a tiny puff of white smoke. The scene reminded Miles of a Norman Rockwell painting; perhaps one that could be titled 'Farm Boy Sneaking a Forbidden Cigarette'.

The boy's head suddenly jerked towards the farmhouse. He dropped what Miles assumed was a cigarette onto the ground, and then hopped off the fence and ground it out with his foot. A second later, Miles heard a voice that was carried by the wind, but it was too muffled to make out over the noise of the horses. He watched the boy climb over the fence and quickly run into the cornfield, ducking his head so that he couldn't be seen from the farm. Miles watched for a few more seconds, but the boy didn't reappear.

The school's perimeter ended after they had traveled about another mile further, then the rickety old fence turned sharply to the right. The woods were thick enough to be a forest here, and beyond the fence, Miles could see what looked like the beginning of a marshy swamp. Thank God I don't have to go through that, he thought as he swung his horse eastward. He halted the party to pull the folded map of the property from his back pocket. According to the guide the headmaster had given him, the border ran east for another four miles [6 km] before reaching the northeastern end of the school's boundaries. Miles folded the map, stuck it back into his rear pocket, and set out again with the boys in tow.

A hill slowly began to rise beneath them. From the top of the hill, Miles could look down past the fence and see that the ground at the bottom of the hill was all wetland, a bayou that seemed to stretch on forever. When they had followed the fence for approximately two miles [3 km], Miles stopped the party again. He turned in his saddle to face the boys riding in line behind him.

"Hey guys," he said, "getting hungry?"

Several of the boys nodded and voiced their consensus.

"The swamp isn't too pretty to look at, but we're about halfway along our journey, and it's probably close to lunchtime."

Miles dismounted his horse and wrapped the reins around the top of the old wooden fence. The boys followed suit, each one securing his horse to the fence while Miles unfastened the picnic blanket from the back of his saddle. The boys eagerly dug into their saddlebags, removing the brown paper sacks from them. About forty yards away lay the apex of the hill, and this is where Miles headed.

He unrolled the blanket on the soft ground, beneath the shade of a large oak tree. The boys sat Indian style around it, placing their paper bags on the blanket. The cafeteria staff had made each one a ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, a Ziploc bag of carrots and celery, a brownie wrapped in wax paper, an apple, and a soda. Miles's stomach rumbled at the sight of all the food; he had been hungrier than he had realized.

"Crud," complained Johnny, "my sandwich is flat."

"Just like your humor," Walt joked.

Johnny grinned and threw a baby carrot at the older boy. Walt returned the favor by hitting Johnny with a piece of celery. The younger boy feigned a look of horror and pulled his hands up to his neck.

"Ew! Vegetable! Get it away!"

Miles unwrapped his ham and cheese and bit into it, chasing it with a shot of coke. Damn, that's good, he thought. Nothing better than a nice sandwich when trekking through the woods on horseback, it really hits the spot. The boys were all hungry too, and wolfed most of their food down quickly.

"Ay, dat's my brownie," Silvio said in his Brooklyn accent. "Mmps, smrmy," Johnny mumbled through a mouthful of brownie. "Yeah, youse gonna be!"

Silvio rose and tackled Johnny. The blond-haired boy anticipated the move and wrapped an arm around Silvio's head, placing him in a headlock. Silvio was quick, however, and with the aid of his greased hair, he easily slid loose from Johnny's grasp.

"Ew man, whattya put in your hair? Pennzoil?"

Silvio grinned as he tackled Johnny again, this time catching the boy in the stomach. Johnny made an audible "oomph" and wrapped his arms around Silvio. Together, the two boys playfully wrestled around on the ground, each one attempting and failing to put the other into a submission hold.

Their lunches finished, Matthew and Bob stretched out onto their stomachs on their end of the picnic blanket. They talked for a bit about schoolwork, and Miles listened for a few minutes. To his right sat Sven and Walt. Miles noticed that Walt seemed to be sitting awfully close to the younger boy, and would occasionally give him quick glances. If I didn't know better, I would swear that Walt had a little crush on Sven.

Although Walt was checking out Sven, it was Miles himself that seemed to have the attention of the younger boy, who stole glances at him quite frequently, trying to look inconspicuous whenever Miles caught him at it. Is he worried that I'll try to pump him for the information that I didn't get during the interview? Why bother coming at all then? Is is something else?

Indeed, Miles had flirted with the idea of asking Sven a few more questions, but decided not to.

It was not the right time and place for it and the interviews should be conducted one-on-one, not in front of other students. Besides, it was a pretty day and becoming a nice outing, and Miles didn't want to spoil it by having Sven clam up.

Johnny and Silvio had temporarily stopped wrestling to remove their shirts, complaining that it was too hot for them. Miles noticed that Silvio was wearing a small gold crucifix around his neck, which he kissed before assuming his fighting stance. Johnny was also wearing a necklace; a silver Star of David. Huh, thought Miles, I didn't know Johnny was Jewish. He wondered if that might be one of the reasons the boys seemed so competitive with each other.

A few of the other boys agreed that it was getting rather hot and removed their shirts as well. In fact, aside from Miles, Walt and Sven were the only other two that kept their shirts on. Matthew's friend, Bob, was also wearing a crucifix; although unlike Silvio's, this one appeared to be a more Catholic version, with a tiny Jesus nailed to the cross. Upon closer inspection, Miles saw that it was actually a metal rosary.

As Johnny tossed his shirt to the ground, he and Silvio circled each other, and then Silvio once again dashed at him, catching him around the midsection, and trying to lift the boy off his feet. Johnny tried to put the olive-skinned boy into a headlock, but was caught off guard by a new contender.

"Watch out, Johnny boy!"

Miles watched as one of the Edwards twins suddenly grabbed Johnny around the waist. He wasn't sure if it was Brad or Sam; he didn't know them well enough to tell them apart yet. Laughing, Johnny attempted to hold back Silvio while simultaneously trying to fend off the Edwards boy behind him. The other Edwards twin approached Silvio from behind, grinning mischievously.

"That ain't fair, Sam," the boy said.

To even things up, Brad grabbed Silvio by the shoulders and jerked him backwards. Silvio lost his balance and both boys fell back, Silvio crashing down onto Brad's lap. Johnny, meanwhile, pinched his eyes shut and farted. Sam, who had been holding Johnny around the waist, gagged and let him go. Miles and the other boys laughed as Sam fell to the ground, pretending to choke. Grinning, Johnny took the opportunity to tackle Silvio and Brad. While Sam recovered from the gas attack, the other three boys wrestled around on the ground, grappling and laughing.

"Mister Dunn," Walt asked, "you were in the Marines, right?"

Miles turned his attention away from the boys to Walt. "Yes."

"That's cool, did you go to war?"

"Uh 3; yeah, I saw a little action."

"Can you tell us about it?" Walt asked, then added, "I mean 3; if you're comfortable sharing anything."

Miles thought back about his time in the Middle East. Some events had been filled with violence and death; certainly not something to share with a group of students. There were a few, however, that could be safe to tell. He chose a memory that he thought the boys would like and began to tell them about it.

"Well, there was this one time in Afghanistan, in a place called Marjah. Our mission was to take control of a densely populated area where Taliban leaders were known to live. On the way there, a group of insurgents shot at us. We returned fire and thought that they were all dead, so we moved on towards our objective. As we got closer to the village, more Taliban started to shoot at us from all sides. We had to make a dash for cover, but we ended up being boxed in for about six hours."

"Did you shoot anybody?" asked Bob.

"It's hard to say, really. They were about a hundred-fifty meters out, and some of us did hit a few of the targets, but it's difficult to say who exactly. There was a lot of confusion and sometimes it was hard to tell who was shooting at whom. We hid behind sections of these thick clay walls, and each time one of us would pop our heads out, they would fire at us. Most of the firing I did was cover fire to allow our sharpshooters to take some shots."

"Dang," said Johnny, "how did you get out?"

The boys had stopped wrestling and Miles found that he had an audience. The boys sat around him in a semi-circle, listening intently to the story he was telling them. It made Miles feel proud to have them hanging on his every word, but also a little embarrassed. He didn't like to brag about his service and would normally only talk about it after a few drinks. However, he thought that each one of these boys was absolutely adorable, and he couldn't deny them what they wanted to hear.

"Well, after sitting like ducks in a shooting gallery for a while, the Captain had one of our birds

– that's military slang for a helicopter – draw some of the enemy fire while he ordered an APOB to be set off to clear out the area ahead so we could continue with the mission."

"What's an APOB?" asked Matthew.

"More military slang; it's an abbreviation for an anti-personnel obstacle breaching system. It's a rocket that has a line of frag grenades attached to it; you fire the rocket and the frags clear out a straight path for you."

"Cool," said a few of the boys, and Johnny made explosion noises. "Then what happened?" asked Walt.

"Once we cleared a path, we were able to breach the town. We had to keep eyes open for I.E.D.'s while we made our way to an old police station that we used to establish a forward operating base. We were good there until about three in the morning, when we fell under mortar fire and attacks by suicide bombers."

"Whoa," said one of the twins, "were you scared?"

"I didn't really have time to be scared, although afterwards I was a little shook up. During the moment, I fell back on my training and simply reacted to the situation. They tried to blow up a nearby gas station with a propane bomb but it didn't reach the intended target. After that we managed to hold them off until the morning."

"Did anybody on your side get killed?"

Miles knew this question would eventually come and his face dimmed a little.

"Yes, one of ours was killed. It was just before we set off the APOB; one of the guys setting it up was shot in the back. He was our only casualty that day, but each one hurts."

"Sorry," murmured a few of the boys.

Miles didn't want to dwell on it. It was a pretty day out, and he was among some of the cutest boys that Saint Xavier had to offer. Afghanistan was a million miles away, and he wanted to enjoy the rest of the outing.

"Hey Johnny, I'll bet you can't pin me," he said to lighten the mood.

Johnny laughed.

"Are you joking?! There's no way I can pin you!"

"Not even if you and Silvio team up and I keep one hand behind my back?"

"No way José, there's no way I would be able to 3; GET HIM!!!"

Johnny's surprise attack almost worked. Miles was about to try to coax him further when the boy shouted and dove at him, nearly knocking him off balance. Silvio didn't react fast enough, and Miles took the opportunity to get to his feet. As promised, he held one hand behind his back while Johnny bent and tried to lift his leg. Silvio joined in, wrapping his arms around Miles's other leg and straining to lift the man off his feet. Miles chuckled and watched their efforts.

"Come on fellas, you gotta try harder than that!"

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Edwards twins exchange glances. Then, the two thirteen-year-olds launched their own attacks, one moving to help Johnny lift his leg while the other tackled his midsection. The force of the blow, plus the three already working on his legs was enough to topple the man, and he fell to the picnic blanket, laughing.

The moment he landed, the twin that had tackled him sat on his stomach, while Johnny and Silvio each grabbed hold of his shoulders, pinning them to the earth. The other Edwards twin held down his ankles and counted.

"One 3; Two 3; Three 3; DING DING DING!"

"Yay!" Johnny cheered as he raised his hands over his head, "we won!"

The other boys released their holds on Miles and he sat up. Johnny broke into a ridiculous victory dance that made the others double over with laughter. Miles was enjoying every minute of it, feeling much like a child himself. The boys seemed to be accepting him as one of their own, albeit a much older version. Miles wondered if this was what being a father felt like; reliving your own childhood vicariously through your children, a return to innocence.

"Mister Dunn, you should try Walt," Sven said, "he's almost as big as you." Walt gave him an embarrassed look.

"Uh 3; yeah 3; I don't think I could take him."

"Do ya think you could teach us some Marine fighting moves?" asked Johnny. "Well 3; I suppose I could show you a technique of two."

He stood, and using Walt as an example, Miles demonstrated a few throws and how to use the opponent's momentum against him to throw him off-balance. He also showed them how to counter a rear headlock, one that Johnny seemed particularly interested in. After Miles would show a technique on Walt, the other boys would practice them on each other. Watching the boys practice the moves he had shown them made Miles feel good; he was using the skills he knew to help the boys improve themselves.

It was Johnny who came up with the name of their own little club. "Mister Dunn's Warriors" was the name he suggested, and the other boys echoed their agreements. The boys insisted that if Miles would occasionally find some time to teach them new techniques, they would practice them during their free periods.

"Besides," Johnny added, "I've always wanted to take Karate."

"The stuff I showed you is called Judo," Miles said, "it's similar to Karate but there are some differences. Karate deals more with striking your opponent, while Judo is more about defense and countering."

"Johnny don't need no more defense," joked Sam, "he's already got enough gas to light up the entire county for a month."

It was getting later in the afternoon, and Miles suggested that they finish the perimeter check and return to the campus. While the boys gathered up their trash and put their shirts back on, Miles rolled up the picnic blanket and attached it back to the saddle. Turning back to the group, he saw that Johnny hadn't eaten his apple, but was holding it gingerly.

"Johnny, you didn't eat your apple."

"I know, I'm saving it for Prickly Pete."

Johnny gathered his trash from the blanket and placed it all in the brown paper bag. He then walked over to his horse and after placing his sack in the saddlebag, he offered the apple to it, stroking the horse's mane, and speaking to it in a hushed voice. The other boys placed their trash in their respective saddlebags, and then mounted the horses. Miles climbed onto his own horse and they set out once more, checking the fence for damages.

As they rounded the northeastern end of the property line, the woods thinned out and the temperature rose again. The marshy land on the other side of the fence became grassy with fewer trees. The grass and large amount of shrubbery looked rather dry and brown, and Miles made a mental note of it. The weather was unusually warm for spring, and the heat and dry grass could potentially be a fire hazard. He would have to mention it to Mr. Daniels.

The final two miles [3 km] of the trip were uneventful, aside from Johnny getting bitten on the cheek by a mosquito. They arrived at the stables and took their horses inside, then removed the saddles, bridles, and saddle pads. After giving the horses a thorough grooming, the boys started to drift off, one by one. The last students to finish were Matthew, Bob, Johnny, Sven and Walt. Together, they left the stables with Miles.

"Hey Mister Dunn," said Bob, "it's so hot; some of us were talking about going to the pool after the horse ride. Would you like to join us?"

A nice dip in the indoor pool seemed like a fantastic idea to Miles – not to mention the thought of seeing all those wonderful boys running around in their swimming trunks.

"Sure," he said, "I'd like that."

"Cool," said Bob with a friendly smile, "see ya there."

Bob and Sven took off towards their dorm, which was on the opposite side of the campus, while Miles, Matthew, and Walt went to Bear dorm to change.

***

After the horseback ride, Miles went to the adult showers in the teacher's dorm to wash off. The gymnasium that sat across from the indoor swimming pool had its own locker rooms with showers, but Miles didn't think it would be a good idea to shower there with the students. He didn't think the headmaster would mind since the showers had individual stalls, but he wanted to rub one out before he went to the pool. Some of the students that would be at the pool were on the swim team; they would probably be wearing speedos, like a few of the foreign boys. Lots of flesh would be exposed, and Miles didn't want to risk an accidental erection.

After his quick wank beneath the steaming water, Miles dressed into his swimming trunks, threw his towel over his shoulder, and made his way to the indoor pool that separated Bear dorm and the football field from the rest of the campus.

Upon entering the building, Miles was greeted with the sound of children laughing. The noise of those and of the splashes made by the boys as they jumped into the water echoed throughout the hall as he turned left and walked towards the swimming pool. After passing through an open doorway and between two sets of bleachers, Miles arrived at the pool and saw about a dozen boys splashing around in the short course pool, among them Matthew and Bob. The smell of chlorine hit Miles's nostrils and the humidity in the building caused a sweat to break out on his brow.

The pool house had two levels. On the first level was the pool, with bleachers lining two opposite sides of the four walls. The third side to the right of the entrance had a waist-high wall topped by a large glass window, and a glass door. Beyond this glass door was a small cafeteria of sorts, with tables and chairs, vending machines, and a small shop that sold swimming supplies and team shirts.

The fourth side, across from the cafeteria, had two doorways with a large Saint Xavier Dolphins logo painted across the length of the wall, going all the way up to the second level.

The second level had an open floor, allowing spectators to view the swim events in the pool below. Again, two walls were lined with bleachers, and the high-dive board was located above the cafeteria.

The pool itself was about twenty-five meters long and had a deep end for diving and a shallow end for racing. The floating lane lines had been temporarily removed and coiled up on one side of the pool to let the students swim at their leisure. The boys in and around the pool were all wearing different types of swimsuits, some longer trunks, some speedos. Miles drank in the sight of each one of the beautiful creatures as they jumped, splashed, and swam around.

"Hiya Mister Dunn," called a familiar voice.

Johnny Fink waved at him from the lowest diving board. Miles smiled and waved back, and Johnny took a running leap and flipped forwards off the diving board. He didn't manage to flip all the way around, and ended up splashing into the pool bum first.

"Wah wah wah waaaaaaaah," said Walt, doing an impression of the sad trombone.

A couple of boys were by the poolside chairs that were placed on the empty end of the room. Miles decided to have a seat with them and check out the eye candy before taking a dip. As he walked over to them, he recognized the boy sitting in one of the chairs as Sven; his long, Nordic blond hair wet and plastered to his head. Standing beside him was a boy Miles hadn't seen before; a brown-haired lad with tanned skin and sparkling green eyes. The boy was slightly muscular, with the cutest nose and an adorable smile. If he had to guess, Miles would say he was about thirteen or so.

"Hi fellas," Miles said as he sat in the chair beside Sven, "doing alright?"

"Yes," they both answered.

Both boys were wearing speedos instead of trunks; Sven's were black and appeared to be a size too big, and the other boy's speedos were decorated with the American flag pattern. Miles couldn't help but notice as he sat, that the crotch of Sven's speedos were hanging a bit low, giving a nice view of the side of the boy's scrotum. He tried not to look directly at it for too long, but managed occasional glimpses.

"You gonna introduce me to your buddy, Sven?" Miles asked kindly. "Oh, sorry, this is Cole."

"Hi, Mister Dunn," Cole said with a quick wave.

"Cole is on the swim team and he's like, the best swimmer in the school. He placed first for the breaststroke and third for freestyle stroke in the state championship last year."

As powerful as those thighs looked, Miles didn't doubt it.

"I don't like to brag about it too much," said Cole with an embarrassed grin, "I just love to

swim."

"You oughta see him in the water," Sven said, "he's like a dolphin."

"Wow, congratulations," Miles said.

Sven had been gazing up at Cole with admiration, but now he turned his attention to Miles. "Whoa, what's that?" the boy asked, pointing to Miles's upper arm.

Miles knew what Sven was referring to, but he looked down anyway. "It's a scar, from my time in Afghanistan."

"Whoa," Sven said, his voice filled with awe, "does it hurt?"

"Not anymore, but it hurt like a 3; it didn't feel too good when I got it," Miles said, remembering at the last minute not to cuss in front of the students.

"Can I touch it?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Sven licked his lips and extended his arm, placing his fingertips upon the scar on Miles's arm.

He expected the boy to give it a quick feel and stop, but instead Sven kept his hand there, slowly rubbing the scar.

"It feels smooth, what happened?"

"Ah, that scar."

Miles reached over with his right hand to tap the scar on his left arm, making contact with Sven's fingers. To Miles, this felt erotic, his fingers on Sven's, as the boy continued to gently stroke the scar. No 3; not here, not now, Miles quickly pulled his hand back and told his story.

"It happened during my last deployment to Afghanistan in twenty-eleven, Helmond Province.

That was the same province where all the action was a few years earlier, clearing out the Taliban during Operation Enduring Freedom. After that operation, Echo Battery was tasked to stay and protect a hydroelectric dam, they're Marine artillery. The bad guys eventually infiltrated back in, and were getting close to the dam. That's when Operation Eastern Storm, was launched, to clear them out again. It was a big offensive with two thousand Marines. I was with Echo Battery when we were attacked with mortar strikes, rocket-propelled grenades, machine guns, and snipers."

The memories started to flood back, and Miles was once again in the thick of the battle. "It was suddenly chaotic, and our training instinctively kicked in. We counterattacked. The howitzer cannons opened up, and we had precision rockets called the ‘High Mobility Artillery Rocket System.' This is a six-pack of rockets on the back of a truck, and when they fire all six, it's loud and deafening. The battle raged on for two days. It was the A10 Warthogs on the second day that turned it. These are the ugliest, most beautiful planes the Marines have. It comes in close to the ground, with its nine-foot long thirty millimeter rotating cannon hosing thirty-nine hundred rounds per minute, taking out targets on the ground. It then banks and climbs, that's when you see these little dots of light dropping down, cluster bombs. First, you see the fire and smoke as they explode above the ground, sending shrapnel over a wide area. Then, wow! The shock waves hit you. We moved out, in full battle armor, attacking. There was smoke everywhere, and we could hear our own artillery continuing to fly overhead. I stopped, scanning the battlefield with my M16, ready to pop anything that moved. That's when an enemy mortar went off on my left side. I felt a sharp jab, then a burning sensation. We moved forward, we had them on the run."

As he told his story, more boys started to gather around to listen to him. Several of the younger students sat Indian style at his feet, while the older boys stood close by. Matthew, his favorite, was among them, and was leaning against him as he talked. It was a lovely sensation, the feeling of the boy's soft, warm skin against his own as the boy scrutinized his old wound.

"Wow, weren't you scared?"

With his mouth agape, Sven's eyes were gazing onto Miles. Moreover, he wasn't the only boy with wide eyes. Miles was suddenly and acutely aware of the attention he was receiving.

"At the time, I didn't think about it, I just reacted. The adrenaline rush, the bullets flying, explosions, smoke, and your buddies all around you. The enemy is trying to kill you; we fixated on killing them. It was total madness."

It was quiet, except for the sounds the pool filtration was making. The boys were engrossed; Miles sensed he had captivated them, and a strange feeling came over him – one of power.

"Afterwards, when you have a chance to think, that's when it hits you and becomes scary. Thinking about your buddies around you that didn't make it. Wondering about those who had been medevac'd out. Yeah, I made it this time, but what about next time? The more you think, the more scared you get. Then you start crashing further down, doubting if you can carry out your job, your duty. Yeah, I was scared, that was real, it wasn't a video game."

The room was silent. Miles realized that as he was reliving the experience, he had probably given too much information to the young students. Had he cursed in front of them? Had he been too graphic? He certainly hoped that he hadn't. Feeling a sudden mixture of guilt and embarrassment, he dropped the subject and directed their attention elsewhere.

"I have another one on my thigh," he said as he pulled up the hem of the right leg of his swimming trunks.

The boy's 'oohed' and 'aahed' over the long, jagged scar on his upper thigh. In fact, this scar had actually come from the stupid car accident that Miles had been in, although he doubted that any of the kids would notice the difference. He was curious to see if Sven would be bold enough to do the same in that more intimate place. It was foolish, but he rather liked the feeling and the attention of all those boys gathered around him.

Sure enough, Sven's hand left the scar on his arm and, without asking, the boy placed it on the one on Miles's leg. As the young fingertips gently traced the scar that wrapped around his inner thigh, Miles could feel his cock give a small lurch beneath his trunks.

"Wow, this one goes almost all the way around your leg," Sven said.

Although the soft massage felt very nice, Miles wished that Sven would stop rubbing the scar.

He didn't want to get an erection right in front of the boys. This particular scar spread up his inner thigh, ending about two inches [5 cm] below his scrotum. With Sven's fingers brushing along the end of the scar, coupled with the many young bodies pressed around him, Miles could definitely feel himself beginning to harden. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all.

"Was this one from the same battle?"

"Yes," Miles answered, "both of them were. I received a Purple Heart for wounds received in

battle."

Miles tried to focus again on his memory of the battle. He had to, or he would soon have a pounding erection visible to everybody in the swimming hall. He thought back to those two days. He was trained to be a killing machine, the "tip of the spear" as the Marines like to refer themselves as. He remembered moving forward, methodically. He recalled the smells, an acrid burning stench, and the sounds, at times deftly quiet, at others deafeningly loud. He had blocked them out; he was living in the moment, the killing moment. The sights
 dead bodies, he had no feelings for them; they were the enemy, inanimate objects, scattered over the battlefield.

His hard-on was finally dying back down when he made the mistake of glancing back at Sven's loose speedos. He could still see the smooth scrotum through the leg hole, and he also noticed that the front of the speedos was starting to tent outwards from the boy's semi-hard erection. As if reading his thoughts, Sven grabbed the towel that was crumpled up beside him and placed it across his lap, pretending that his legs were cold. The boy continued to rub the end of his scar up near Miles's groin, but was now looking him directly in the eyes.

Could it be? Miles thought. Could this boy be flirting with me? Miles thought back to the other recent incident – the one with Anthony in the locker room. He wondered if Sven could be attracted to him, and if so, how easily it would be to get the boy back to his dorm room. This very minute, he could excuse himself from the gathering group of boys around him, beckon to Sven, and take the boy to his bed. Once there, he could again taste of the forbidden fruit, known only among the most daring boylovers. All he had to do was ask.

He could recognize the look in Sven's eyes as they bored deeply into his own. It was the same look that some of his military buddies had when a particularly pretty girl walked past; a look of hunger, one that begged to be satisfied. It was still very surprising from a boy that young. The fingertips dancing lightly upon his inner thigh, so close to his crotch, couldn't simply be a young man's curiosity. The way he had covered his own stiffening cock with the towel to hide it from the other boys was a sure sign. This child was interested in Miles, and for more than just his war stories.

A shout from the other end of the room shook Miles from his thoughts. A group of boys wearing speedos similar to Cole's had entered the swimming hall and were waving at the boy.

"Cole, over here."

Cole turned and saw them, and that adorable smile spread across his face.

"Be right there." he said, and then turned back to Miles, "Cool stories, Mister Dunn. Some of the guys from the swim team are here and I'm gonna go practice with them, but I'd like to hear more about Afghanistan sometime."

"Sure thing, Cole. It was nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too, sir."

With that, Cole spun on his heels and left to join up with his friends. The other boys that had gathered to hear his stories began to disperse as well, each one thanking him for the stories before they went back to the pool. Within a few seconds, Miles was alone on the chairs with Sven.

When Cole's friends had shouted, Sven had quickly withdrawn his hand from Miles's thigh.

This action further reinforced Miles's suspicions that Sven was interested in more than war stories. If it were only curiosity, Sven wouldn't have pulled away so quickly, as though he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The tent pole sticking directly up beneath the towel confirmed it. Sven was attracted to him.

Miles's eyes lingered a little too long over the towel across Sven's lap, and the boy took notice.

Now that the others had left them, Sven blushed a little and pulled the towel away. His cocklet was rock hard beneath the loose speedos, and Miles could see not only the side of Sven's scrotum, but the base of the boy's cock as well. The upper half of the penis shaft and the head were still covered by the speedos, but only just.

God, I want this boy, Miles thought. Obviously, it would be too dangerous to try anything in front of so many others, but he could lean forward and whisper in Sven's ear. He could tell the boy to meet him in Bear dorm in ten minutes, and then he could leave and wait for the youth's inevitable appearance. He could lock the door behind them and spend the afternoon with this child, deep inside of him while he sucked the sweet nectar from the boy's loins.

Slowly, Sven reached once again for the scar on Miles's leg. The boy bit his bottom lip as the fingertips rubbed the top of the scar, and then probed a little further, sliding up the leg of Miles's trunks. Miles was already hardening, but when the fingers brushed against his scrotum, something clicked in Miles's brain. He couldn't do those things he wanted to, it would be way too risky. He needed this job, and although Sven would probably keep quiet about it, he couldn't be completely sure. No, he needed to stop giving in to his lust and focus on his job.

"Well, I think I'll go for a swim," he said as he stood up.

Sven looked surprised, then confused. As Miles yanked the hem of his trunks back down over the scar on his thigh, he couldn't help noticing the hurt look that replaced the confusion on Sven's face. It pained Miles to see it; he wanted nothing more than to give himself fully to this beautiful boy.

Unfortunately, it was something he couldn't afford to risk, no matter how badly the child wanted it. In fact, he may even be misinterpreting the boy's actions, projecting his own cravings onto the actions of the kid. Sven simply wanted some attention, some affection. What else could it be?

"Wanna join me, bud?" he asked, trying to set the boy's feelings at ease. "No thanks," Sven replied darkly.

Miles, wanting to make Sven feel better, placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Going against his better judgment, he then dropped his hand a little to the boy's shoulder blade, which he tenderly rubbed.

"Sorry Sven, maybe I can continue the stories later. Okay?"

"Okay."

Sven still seemed to be pouting a little, but the shoulder rub helped a little. Wanting to show that he cared without being too sexual, Miles placed his hand on the boy's cheek and caressed it softly. He lowered his voice until it was just above a whisper.

"Maybe some other time, bud."

He didn't know why he said it, but it did the trick. Sven looked back up at him, all the anger gone from his face. The boy lifted his hand to his cheek, placing it over Miles's and holding it there momentarily.

"I understand," the boy whispered back.

Miles nodded and pulled his hand away, then headed towards the swimming pool. He knew that he shouldn't have said what he said, nor have stroked the boy's cheek, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't want Sven to feel badly or be angry with him. It broke his heart.

Still, wasn't it worse to send the child mixed messages? Wasn't it potentially setting the kid up to be crushed later on, when Miles had to turn down more advances? Perhaps he should have left Sven to stew in his anger for a while, but he just couldn't bring himself to do that. It was all so confusing, and not for the last time, Miles wished that he hadn't taken this damn job in the first place.

Wanting to clear his mind of everything, Miles walked around to the deep end of the pool and dove in. He emerged and treaded water, watching the laughing youths around him. He loved being in the water; the weightlessness was comforting to him. During his time in the military, he often wondered why he had chosen the Marines over the Navy – then he remembered that he would have spent most of his time cramped up on a ship or a submarine somewhere, away from the world, with no chance of observing a boy from time to time. He loved the water, but he hated being in cramped spaces.

Close by, a few boys were in heated conversation. Some of them he knew by name and reputation; in fact, he had seen most of them at Bear house, and he had paid close attention to their physique during his shower duty. Approaching the diving board was Louis Saville, a thirteen-year-old that was rather girlish looking and a feminine demeanor to match. Miles had already learned that no one dared tell this to the boy's face, no matter how girly he acted.

Standing nearby was Jeffrey Simms, a boy that was the spitting image of Eddie Munster from that old show The Munsters – aside from the pointed ears. Jeffrey was arguing loudly with a fourteen- year-old boy named Rolf, who had a strong German accent. They were arguing about which superhero was the most powerful; a subject that may seem futile to many, but was clearly of great importance to the two boys.

From what Miles could make out, the younger Jeffrey was quite upset by the attitude of Rolf, who was decrying the whole superhero craze. Rolf's preference was real sci-fi, and he was patiently waiting for the next Star Wars film to be released. Miles smiled; his line of thought was more on which of these three boys was the most appealing. He let his gaze linger over the other boys present, and set a classification of his own. Damn, why can't I think of anything else?

Nearby, Johnny was clambering out of the pool, his swimming trunks weighted in back by the water and slipping down a bit in the rear to reveal his white bum cheeks. Walt also noticed it and let out a wolf whistle. As Johnny got out of the pool and quickly pulled them up, he turned and stuck his tongue out at Walt. He then turned to Miles and waved his arm over his head.

"Mister Dunn! Over here!"

Miles swam over to the edge of the pool and held on to it, looking up at the pale Jewish boy. "What's up, Johnny?"

"Wanna have a diving contest with me and Walt?"

"Sure," Miles chuckled.

He climbed out of the pool, making sure that his swimming trunks stayed up. Ahead of him, Johnny waved Walt over, who also scrambled out of the water. They waited in line at the diving board, and when it was free, Johnny stood aside and motioned for Miles to go ahead of him.

"You can go first, Mister Dunn. Me and Walt will be the judges, and we'll take turns."

Miles nodded and climbed the ladder for the second diving board; the high dive. Twenty-five feet [7½ m] in the air was higher than it looked. As he mounted the board, he became a little dizzy with vertigo. The pool stretched out beneath him; the other boys splashing around in the water looking like tiny bugs. He hadn't been diving in years, and he had forgotten how anxious it could make him feel.

After steadying himself with the rails, he felt calmer. He took his first step forwards, and broke into a jog towards the end of the board. At the last two feet [50 cm], he hopped into the air, landed briefly at the end of the board, and sprang off it into the air. Straightening his body out, he bent at the waist and jackknifed at the apex. He spread his arms apart and brought his feet up. As he neared the water, he realized that he had put too much rotation into it and hit the water half on his back.

The slap of the water stung, but it wasn't too bad. When he felt the resistance of the water slow him down, he kicked with his feet and continued swimming downwards until he touched the bottom of the pool. Then, he turned and swam upwards until he broke through the surface. Walt, Johnny, and a number of other boys were applauding him.

"Nine!" shouted Walt.

"Two and three-quarters!" shouted Johnny. Walt groaned and shoved the laughing Johnny. "Okay, okay, I'll give it a nine."

Walt took his turn next. He did a very graceful swan dive, which Miles thought probably looked way better than his jackknife dive. Walt emerged from beneath the water and Miles gave him a rating of ten. Johnny gave him two ratings; the first being pi, and the second an eight after Walt threatened to yank his swimming shorts down.

Johnny climbed up the ladder and stood momentarily at the top of the high dive. Miles heard him utter something like 'uh uh, forget this,' and climbed back down the ladder. He then ascended the shorter diving board, and after getting a running start, did the most ridiculous dive Miles had ever seen. It resembled what Miles imagined a cat would look like if it started to belly flop into the water, then panicked in mid-dive and clawed at the air, trying to turn itself around. Walt erupted into gales of laughter beside him, and Miles soon joined him. It was impossible not to, the dive looked so funny. Johnny broke the surface of the water wearing a huge grin. "So, what did I get?"

"Two and three-quarters," joked Miles. "Pi," said Walt.

"I'll take that as a compliment," laughed Johnny.

"Oh my God, dude, you looked like such a spaz!"

"That's what I call that dive," said Johnny, still smiling, "the spaz dive."

"Well, the name certainly fits," Miles quipped.

They decided to go again, but this time Johnny insisted that they do the funniest dive they could think of instead of proper dives. Miles climbed the high dive and as he leapt into the air, he tried to mimic Bugs Bunny from the old Warner Bros. cartoons, pretending to swim in midair. Before hitting the water, he could hear the boys in the pool laughing, which made him smile. He had forgotten about Sven, and things were good again.

Walt took his second turn, pretending to run in the air as he plummeted to the water below.

When Johnny took his turn, he pulled his knees up to his sides in a failed cannonball. He also made a funny face and sound before hitting the water, one that cracked Miles up. There was no doubt about it; Johnny had won the silly diving contest.

As he swam back towards the shallower end of the pool, Miles noticed another student hailing him. It was Cole, the beautiful creature in the American flag speedos. Miles changed course, swimming towards the waving boy.

"Hey Mister Dunn," Cole said as he squat at the edge of the pool, "how fast can you swim?"

"Dunno, never timed myself."

A smile briefly flickered upon the boy's lips.

"I was talking with my team," he cocked his thumb to point out the group of boys behind him, "and they said I could probably outswim you. I said probably not, but they insisted that I could."

The boys on Cole's swimming team exchanged sly grins as they waved at Miles. "Anyway," Cole continued, "They said that after the diving contest you had with Walt and

Johnny, I should challenge you to a little race."

Miles was only half-paying attention to what Cole was saying; he was too busy sneaking glimpses of the tight, bulbous package that bulged in the speedos between the boy's bent legs. If he had been paying closer attention, he wouldn't have said what was uttered next.

"Uh 3; sure buddy. What's the wager; what does the winner get?"

Excitement flashed in Cole's eyes at the mention of winning something from the adult. Miles could see the wheels turning as the boy thought about what he could possibly get from him. The mischievous grin reappeared as Cole decided upon something.

"Oh, I dunno 3; maybe twenty bucks?"

"Twenty dollars? What do you need twenty dollars for?"

"Well, there's a PlayStation game I want to get, but I need about another twenty to have enough

for it."

Shit. Those strong thighs, perfectly rounded bum, and that bulge beneath the speedos had clouded Miles's judgement and he had blurted out the wager without thinking. Gambling with a student could get him in trouble if the headmaster caught wind of it. With the number of students around, Miles doubted that the wager would be secret for long, especially if Cole won. Apparently, his dormant gambling habits had followed him here to the school.

"Er 3; do you have twenty dollars?" Miles asked, hoping that Cole wouldn't have the funds to keep his end of the wager.

"Yup, just need a little more for that game."

Shit shit shit. Well, the swim team was close enough to hear the wager, but hopefully the rest of the students hadn't been paying attention. Miles looked around and was relieved to see that most of the others were busy swimming and chatting to notice. Only the ten or so boys behind Cole had overheard it. Maybe he could still fix it.

"Well, I don't know if money is such a good idea," Miles said, "tell you what; if you win, I'll personally help you get that game. Is that fair?"

Cole thought for a second, and then nodded. "And what if you win?" he asked.

"If I win, you'll have to help me with something. I don't know what yet, I'll have to think about

it."

"Okay," agreed Cole, "that's fair."

As they shook on it, Miles pondered what he could have Cole do for him. It would be nice to get the boy alone and to himself, perhaps cleaning his room or something. Miles could imagine the boy wearing a short French maid's outfit – and nothing else. Of course, the cleaning would lead to other things, maybe like a personal sponge bath from the boy, complete with a happy ending. It was a nice thing to daydream about, even though Miles knew it would never happen.

One of the boys from the swim team clapped his hands for attention and announced to the other students that there was going to be a race, and that they should clear out of the pool. There were a few groans of protest, but the students quickly made their way to the edges and out of the pool. Shivering, they wrapped themselves in their towels as they lined up around the pool to watch the race.

Miles walked up the steps and took his spot at the shallow end of the pool. Beside him, Cole was stretching in preparation for the race. Miles did the same, stretching out his arms and legs to loosen them up. He probably had close to no chance to win against the well-trained boy, but he would still do his best. Around the pool, students talked quietly amongst themselves as they waited for the race to begin.

"Go on, Cole, you got it," shouted one of the boys from the swim team.

"You can do it, Mister Dunn!" shouted Johnny from the opposite end of the pool where more boys had gathered.

Most of the spectators were Bear boys; Walt with his arm around Sven's shoulders, Matthew and Bob shouting encouragement, Johnny acting like a loon as he pretended to teach Miles how to swim. Standing slightly apart from the others was Greyson Driscoll, the little bully from the incident in the showers. Greyson wore a nasty smirk on his face, probably anticipating the crushing defeat he thought Miles was about to suffer.

As the two contenders lined up along the edge of the pool, an expectant hush fell over their audience. Miles glanced over at the young swimmer, who looked very focused. The boy, noticing Miles's glance, turned his head and gave the man a friendly smile.

"Are you both ready?" asked one of Cole's buddies.

Both Cole and Miles nodded and bent at the waist, waiting for the countdown. The pool was about twenty-five meters long, so the race was going to be quick. Miles estimated about twenty seconds to reach the far end, a second or two to flip around, and another twenty seconds back. The whole thing should be over in less than a minute.

"On your marks," said the older boy.

Cole positioned his feet just the way he wanted, testing his grip the way a cat does just before it pounces. Miles, who wasn't used to racing, did the same.

"Get set."

Cole raised his backside into the air, lowering his face until it was just above the water. Miles gave that lovely rounded bum a quick look, and then did the same. The pungent, tangy smell of chlorine rose to his nostrils. The boys were silent around them, watching their every move.

"GO!"

Cole hit the water a fraction of a second before Miles, and when he broke the surface, Cole was already a few feet ahead of him. Holy shit the kid is fast, he thought as he began to stroke. The boy was certainly a fast swimmer, but Miles was stronger. As they neared the opposite end of the pool, Miles caught up with him and slightly overtook him. Around them, the students were cheering them on, some for Cole, some for Miles. The echoes from their cheers mixed together until Miles didn't know who was cheering for whom.

His fatal error was turning around once he had reached the far end. He tagged the top, and then wasted a few seconds turning around in the water. Beside him, Cole expertly dove beneath the surface, flipped around, and kicked off the wall, losing no time in heading back. Realizing his mistake, Miles launched himself off with his legs, doing his best to catch up with the boy.

It was to no avail; Cole had tagged the wall and was already climbing out of the pool by the time Miles reached him. The swim team erupted into cheers as they enveloped Cole, praising him and clapping him on the back. Miles pulled himself out and walked over to the boy, who was beaming proudly.

"Good race, Cole," he said as he shook the boy's hand.

"You too, Mister Dunn. You would have won if you woulda flip-turned instead of turning around."

"That's okay, the better man won."

It was nice of the boy to acknowledge this; it showed that the kid wasn't a braggart and could win gracefully. There was no doubt in Miles's mind that Cole could lose gracefully, too. It was a sign of true sportsmanship; of the same variety that Matthew and Bob had shown on the soccer field.

"So, when do you think you can get that game?" Cole asked with a grin.

The boy looked so cute standing in his tiny speedo and swim cap, his goggles resting upon his collarbones. Water streaked down his skin and dripped off the tip of his nose, glistening beneath the spotlights high above.

"Well, it's a little late to go this weekend. Shall we say, next weekend?"

"Okay, great!"

"Which game do you want, anyway?"

"Borderlands Three. Make sure it's for the PS five though, not Xbox."

"Alright, I'll write it down when I get back to my room."

"Thanks, Mister Dunn."

Cole graced him with another smile, and then the other members of the team gathered around him and began to speak in hushed tones. The other students were going back into the pool, and as Miles turned to dive back in, he overheard some of the conversation between the boys around Cole.

"That's cool that Mister Dunn is getting it for you. Anthony charges too much for adult stuff."

"Yeah, I got this porno DVD from him last month, and he charged me thirty bucks for it. Later I looked it up online and found out that it really only costs like fifteen."

"He charges ten bucks for a pack of smokes, too."

"Anthony's expensive, but Stilson's worse. I heard he charges forty dollars for a fifth of vodka, and it's the cheap stuff."

One of the boys in the group raised his head and noticed that Miles hadn't dove back into the pool yet. He quickly put his finger in front of his lips and nodded towards Miles, and the other boys turned to look at him. Miles, not wanting to give himself away, walked to the edge of the pool and dove in. When he reemerged, the boys were quietly leaving the pool area, walking quickly towards the changing rooms.

So, Miles thought, are they discussing Anthony Reid? He thought they very well could be. Apparently, Anthony Reid and somebody named Stilson were the go-to guys for contraband. Miles tucked this little nugget of information away; he wasn't going to turn anybody in, yet, but it would be nice to know that he had some 3; leverage 3; in case he ever needed it. He knew the boy had been part of the leftovers that weekend, he had checked. In fact, he had been on the lookout for the boy all weekend, but he had still to spot the boy. It seemed kind of strange that he hadn't run into young mister Reid at all.

They continued diving and swimming for the remainder of the afternoon, until it was about dinnertime. The bell rang, but because it wasn't an official school day, students were allowed to come and go to the dining hall as they pleased until the dinner hour was over. Miles scrambled out of the pool and after drying himself off with his towel, started out for Bear dorm.

As he walked across the football field, Johnny and Walt joined him, talking about the diving contest. Soon Matthew, having bid his friend Bob adieu, caught up with them. Johnny put his arm around Miles at one point, and the gesture moved him. Matthew, not wanting to feel left out, did the same on his other side, and Miles spontaneously rested a hand on each of the boys' slender young shoulders. He finally felt like one of the guys, as though he finally belonged to the school. He was an adult and in charge of the students, but that day, they had accepted him as one of their own. He couldn't be happier, and he floated back to Bear dorm with the two boys on either side, and Walt trailing closely behind.