Sebastian - The Male Escort - Part 1 Of 6 free porn video

Prologue

My business card is very discrete. It says quite simply

Sebastian - Male Escort
Absolute Discretion Assured
Telephone xxxxxxx

For those unfamiliar with the term ‘Male Escort’, let me explain. It is a euphemism for a man who is a professional copulator, selling what is usually known as anal stimulation to his exclusively male clientele. Crudely put, a Male Escort is a man who fucks other men’s arses for money. And let me say, with no false modesty, that I am a consummate professional at my job and have, over a period of time, developed a faithful clientele who call upon me to ease their sexual problems. But I see that I am getting ahead of myself, so let me stop here and start at the beginning, with the full story of how I came, quite by chance, to be in this business and where it has led me.

Chapter 1

My name is Sebastian Watson. Nothing special about that, you might think, other than the fact that the name Sebastian is not much used anymore today. Well, it may become clearer if I tell you that my full name is a ponderous Sebastian Aloysius Mortimer Watson. Yes, indeed, I am a ‘scion’, to use their word, of what is considered in upper class American society, to use again their words, ‘an old family’. Old and good families, whatever they are, always lumber their offspring with names that no normal person would ever think of using. Sebastian is bad enough, and I am always addressed as Sebastian and never, ever as Seb, but I ask you, Aloysius Mortimer—where on earth did my late parents ever dig up these prehistoric names? What on earth were they thinking about when they lumbered their only child with them? But that is precisely what ‘old families’ do. What the hell is an old family anyway – aren't all families old?

Well, I will tell you: an old family is one which has been rich enough or influential enough over the years as to keep track of its family history - who married whom and how many children and so on and so forth. And so, they are able to tell you that their line dates back to before the war of independence or whenever. In fact Joe Blow has just as long a lineage, but it had never been recorded and so, like most folks he can barely go back much beyond his grandparents and rarely can he tell you the maiden name of either grandmother. That, my friends, is the only difference.

American tradition requires everyone to have, if not an actual middle name, at least a middle initial – it always asks for that on those printed forms one gets through the post, I decided to simplify things and call myself Sebastian David Watson, or Sebastian D. Watson. What on earth would I have done otherwise, lumbered with two middle initials? The standard American form has space for only one letter: so people like me – and there are lots of us – just have to improvise, which is what I did. You can, you know, use any name you wish as long as you are not intent on committing a crime.

In my case, of course, coming from a true blue ‘old family’ I know that we have been around in Boston since 1720. My forbears did not come over on the Mayflower, but we count nevertheless as part of the Boston ‘aristocracy’. We Watsons may not qualify to socialize with the Cabots or the Lodges, (they are the ones, in case you had forgotten, who converse only with God) but we hold - or rather held - our own in Boston society, even though we never had the cash to really live up to it. Well, lumbered as I was with my prehistoric names, I was orphaned at the age of two, when both my parents were killed in a car crash and so I have no recollection of them.

We were a very small family: I was an only child as had been my mother and my father had but one elder sister, Agatha Amelia Dorothea Watson (Oh yes, they did not stint on names, even for the girls!) who was fifteen years older than her brother and was a dried up, inward looking old spinster, truly the quintessential Maiden Aunt. I am pretty sure the ‘maiden’ bit was a correct designation as she had no time for men at all and lived a solitary life, wrapped up in religion and ‘good works’, whatever they might be. However Aunt Agatha, as I subsequently called her, had that true sense of duty which goes with being from a ‘good family’ and became my legal guardian from my earliest age.

She was a totally remote woman who really had no time for children and engaged a series of nurses and governesses to look after me, until, at the tender age of eleven, she shipped me off to a boy’s boarding school, the Sheldon Academy for Boys, which was located in a small community of the same name in rural up-state New York.

The Sheldon Academy was a private school catering for about 350 boys and attracted boys from ‘good families’ for two reasons. Firstly, it promised a rigorous old-fashioned education modelled on that practiced in English public schools, and secondly, which was possibly more important in the eyes of many of the people sending their charges there, it offered supervised board and lodgings to the pupils out of term time. In other words, here was a place where, for a fee, you could enroll your offspring and not have to see them at all any more, unless you wanted to, until they reached the age of eighteen and left the school to pursue either a college education or find a job!

I exaggerate here somewhat, as even the most callous of parents or guardians felt it morally necessary to see their charges a few times during the year, but make no mistake, those of us who spent vacations at the school usually received the odd visit from our parents or guardian, but only very rarely went home. In my case, I never ever went back to my Aunt Agatha’s house – I cannot bring myself to call it ‘home’ - until I left Sheldon aged eighteen and had to find a job. So, as you can see, from my entering Sheldon aged eleven and leaving aged eighteen plus, my school days were equivalent to a prison sentence, with no remission!

I was one of these ‘lucky’ lads! Aunt Agatha religiously came to see me four times a year (it was a sort of sacred duty) and took me out to lunch, for which as I discovered, much later in my life, Aunt Agatha had paid for out of my inheritance, but from the time I entered the school, aged eleven until the day I left aged eighteen, I never ever went back to Agatha’s house! Incredible but true: and I was not the only one. So, of home life I had absolutely none: I lived in an expensive institution and had to make the best of it. But it was not all bad; for I had some congenial schoolmates and overall, I was not unhappy: one just gets used to things and my ‘thing’ was that Sheldon was my life. However, when I finally left Sheldon aged eighteen and a half, I had no clear idea what my future life would be.

Chapter 2

The Sheldon Academy was run by an expatriate Brit, who himself was a product of the old style English public school system. He had run this establishment on the same lines for over thirty years and saw himself as a sort of God, to put fear into the hearts of his pupils. He came, apparently, from a very upper, upper English background and rejoiced in the name of Ambrose Archibold Cedric Woodderowffe Pryce. – MA Cantab. (That’s a master’s degree from the University of Cambridge, England, in case you did not know). Yes you’ve got it, that was his name, with that ridiculous collection of double letters, which was pronounced, so he drilled into us, Woodruff Priss. With typical English upper-class disdain for any pronunciation which bore even a vague resemblance to its spelling, even the simple name of Pryce, was, according to him, pronounced as Priss.

Of course, Price, spelt with an I instead of a Y is a common enough name, but Woody’s version was with a Y. The upper class Brits were truly experts in the art of transmogrification! But I am sure you can image what we boys called him. There were two versions of his nick name; one was Woody Piss and the other Woody Prick. Once one had got to know the man better, Woody Prick was the one that stuck, as this character really was a prick of the first water and most of us lads referred to him as ‘the Prick’, which led to the undoing of one of my close friends, but more of that in due time..

Life at Sheldon was not all that bad. Some of the teachers were great and really enjoyed their jobs, which they saw as their true vocation. Others were just there to earn a living and were really indifferent about their work. One or two were downright awful in their treatment of their charges, among whom a man called Clarence Simmons, Slimy we called him, who was the PT and games master and was easily the worst.

This character was a slimy little bastard, who loved to go around the gym classes, hitting his pupils across the arse with a short strap he always carried. We guessed he had some special arrangement with the Prick as, according to the school rules, only the Headmaster was allowed to administer corporal punishment, but somehow Slimy managed to get away with slapping all and sundry with his strap during the gym lessons. And let me tell you that although I refer to it now as a slap, it really hurt! He was, moreover, an utter sneak and reported any misdemeanour as he saw it straight to the Prick.

Now, at this time, corporal punishment in schools had not been abolished in the USA, but it was rarely used in the state schools. Not so with the Prick, who was running a private fee paying school. He was a great believer in the old school methods and was ready (too ready, many thought) to wield his cane across any miscreant’s arse. By the time I was sixteen I had had my arse whacked by him three times, but this was par for the course, for there was a regular stream of pupils entering his office for punishment on Friday afternoons.

The Prick was a real martinet with a strong sadistic streak and he seized upon even the most minor misdemeanour to thrash the errant pupil’s arse. Looking back on things now, I believe it was thrashing his pupils’ naked arses that really made his day. Not a week went by but what some poor unfortunate lads had to drop their pants and let the Prick whack their naked butts. This happened at what the Prick called ‘punishment parade’, a concept he had somehow picked up from the British army training schools. Masters who felt a boy needed correction for some misdemeanour, filled in a slip which the miscreant then handed to the school secretary, a dried up old trout called Miss Pimlott, who produced the weekly list of those who were to attend punishment parade.

This was psychologically a horrible system, as instead of getting his arse beaten immediately, a boy who had received a slip, say on a Monday, had the mental agony of having to wait until Friday afternoon before receiving his punishment. All of us, I am sure, would have much preferred to take an immediate beating and get the thing over with. But that was not the way things worked at Sheldon and come Friday afternoon there was usually a line of boys waiting at the door of the Headmaster’s study to have their backsides beaten. Another feature of these beating sessions was that Slimy always seemed to be in attendance to assist the Prick in his ministrations.

I now have to turn to my own development. By the time I was seventeen I realized that my sexual orientation was towards other boys and that I really had little interest in girls - not that any of us had much opportunity to fraternise with members of the opposite sex; there just were not any around. I was, in fact, in spite of being a keen athlete and a regular use of the school gym, at the end of the day a very timid character. I told no one of my sexual orientation, although some of my classmates must have guessed, as I never entered into their interminable discussions about girls and what they might do with them given half a chance, an event which never materialized, of course, as there were no girls around.

As I mentioned earlier I was a keen athlete and made regular use of the gym and its facilities beyond the usual physical training classes supervised by Slimy. There is not great privacy for the pupils in a private school run on the British lines, and all of us showered together every morning and after every gym session so that we were all totally accustomed to seeing each other naked. As time passed and we all moved towards manhood, it became increasingly evident that I was developing a more muscular body than any of my class mates. But even more noteworthy was that my cock was growing at an enormous rate. By the time I was sixteen, I already had a seven inch long cock of considerable girth. I was the secret envy of all my classmates and received, as well you might imagine a lot of good natured chivvying about the size of my tool.

Chapter 3

By a stroke of fate, I first saw the light of day on New Year’s day, so that January 1 st 2010 was my seventeenth birthday. I made but one birthday wish combined with one single New Year’s resolution: that I would find myself a sex partner before the year was out, as I had the most urgent desire to have sex with another guy.

Sex was, of course a permanent topic among all of us, but in my particular case, with my extra large piece of meat between my legs, by the time my seventeenth birthday dawned, I had acknowledged to myself that fact that I was not like most of my class mates, interested in the opposite sex, and that I was a homosexual. More and more I was beset by the growing, urgent need to give outlet to my feelings. When I looked at some of the better built guys in my class, I could hardly restrain myself from keeping my hands of them,

As boys of our age will do, we all jerked off regularly, but on the whole there was no sexual contact between us. Wanking, as we called it, was just one of those things we all did from time, just to relieve what I now realize was the sense of sexual frustration that all guys of our age experience. There was, of course, at Sheldon, no form of formal sex education of any sort. It was an old style school, where I suppose that the staff somehow expected the facts of life would diffuse through to us by a process of osmosis. And so, as I am sure you can image, none of us was really sure of anything and there was endless discussions as to what men did with women, based upon bits of information picked up here and there.

This all changed when one of the more enterprising members of staff, the mathematics master, somehow persuaded the Prick that the school had to keep pace with the march of time and managed, somehow, to screw enough money out of the school endowment fund to set up a computer laboratory, where we all started to learn how to use this, to us, hitherto unknown piece of electronic knick-knackery. This was truly a remarkable development for a school like Sheldon, which, in many ways was still running much along the same lines as had English public schools at the beginning of the twentieth century, and here we now were at the end of the first decade of the twenty first!

Well, the upshot of this was that we all became very familiar with the Internet, for the laboratory was set up with Internet access. So, you can image what we all did, very surreptitiously, of course: we took every occasion to look at pornographic sites. So the computer laboratory provided most of us with what I guess must pass for our sex education. We all rapidly became familiar with the true facts of life and in my case, which I concealed from my school mates, with homosexual sex: I soon found out what gay men did together, whilst my classmates concentrated their “research’ on finding out how a guy went about fucking a girl. So, at least we thought that we now knew everything. With the brashness of youth, we gave no though to the fact that experience might also have role to play in our future sex lives.

Armed as I now was with the rudiments of homosexual sex, my New Year’s resolution to find a sex partner became ever more urgent, for I now knew more than ever, that I wanted to have sex with another guy: I wanted to stick my cock up some guy’s arse and fuck him as hard as I could. It may sound very crude and immediate, but that is exactly how I felt. But how was I to find this partner? I had no idea whether any of my class- mates had the same gay sexual orientation as myself and I really had no idea how to go about finding out, without exposing myself to the potential ridicule of the other boys. But fate has a way of intervening in so many different aspects of our lives and came up with a solution.

After games we all showered together in the changing rooms and one afternoon, in late January, I found myself as the last person in the showers together with one of my class mates, a guy called Charles Tennant. Charlie was not one of my close friends but on this occasion as we were drying ourselves off, we found ourselves quite alone, when he suddenly said to me, with his eyes glued on my cock, “You know Sebastian, you really are super well- equipped where it matters. Have you ever thought of giving your tool a little exercise, with another guy?”

This question, as you might well imagine, stopped me dead in my tracks. Fully aware that I was being propositioned by Charlie, I decided to tread water for the moment. “You know, Charlie, I am not sure what you are getting at,” I replied.

“Oh, come on, don’t be coy. You know full well what guys do to each other and I was just wondering if you might fancy a little adventure with me.”

“Charlie, I’m not sure what you are suggesting.”

“Oh, come on, Sebastian, don’t act so damned thick: you must realize that I am asking you if you would like to fuck my butt, for as sure as hell I would really like to feel your cock my arse.”

So, there it was. I had been propositioned by Charlie Tennant, of whom I was not a close friend and who, until that moment, inasmuch as I had ever given the matter any thought, was for me, like my other classmates, a regular guy. I had no inkling of the fact that he might be of the same orientation as myself.

I realized then that this was possibly the very opportunity I had been hoping for: to find a guy with whom I could have sex. However, before jumping in at the deep end, I said to Charlie, “What makes you think that I would ever want to do what you suggest? Why do you think that I might be that way inclined?”

“Listen,” replied Charlie, “I have been watching you for some time now when we are all together chewing the fat about our inevitable topic – sex, I’ve noticed that whenever we get to the subject of girls and what we might do to them, (not that there are any around to do anything with, I might add), well, you kind of fall off to the edges of the conversation. So I was wondering if you felt that you were gay, or possibly just wondering about your own sexuality. Look here, Sebastian, I will come straight out and tell you that I myself, totally gay. I have known this for quite some time now, but have told no one – but now you know. However, for crying out loud, please do not broadcast the fact. You truly are the only person to know my secret, so please, if I have got it all wrong about you, then don’t let what I have told you go any further. So, now that you know, are you interested in …?”

Charlie tailed off here, leaving his question unasked, but as you all realize, he did not need to spell it out: he merely needed an answer and went on. Come on Sebastian, level with me, are you like me, gay? I was really hoping that you might be as quite frankly, I have had the hots for you for quite some time now and would just love to take your cock up my arse. It’s just that until now, have never had a chance to talk turkey with you. So, there you have it: I cannot put it any plainer than that, can I?”

I paused for thought for a few moments before answering and then said. “You know, Charlie, it is really amazing that fate has thrown is together in this changing room today. You are dead right when you tag me as gay, and I have to say, I take my hat off to you. I had never ever thought of you as gay. In fact, to be quite honest, I had never ever given you much thought at all! Don’t get me wrong. I did not and do not dislike you, but as we are both aware, we are not close friends: we are just classmates and that is that. How could I know about you, as you show no signs at all of your sexual preferences. But, my god, you have based your thoughts about me on the most superficial of observations and proved yourself right, but I had no idea at all about you until now.”

Charlie went on. “So, now that we both know where we stand, that we are both in fact, gay, how do you feel about my proposition? It would be a first time for both of us, as I have never taken another guy’s cock up my arse and I imagine you have never fucked another guy either: so here we are a pair of seventeen year-old virgins. How about it? Shall we give it a try out and see if sex is, in the event, all that it is regularly made out to be and, more importantly to test the water about our own sexuality? As the old saying goes, the proof of the pudding is in the eaten so, what do you say? Shall we sample it?”

Well, what would your response to this invitation have been? Here I had been until a few minutes ago, wondering, for what had seemed like an age, how I could find a guy to fuck and now Charlie was handing me his arse on a plate and inviting me to shaft him, so of course I said, yes. And to lay to rest any doubt about my own sexuality, I told Charlie, yet again that I was gay and that there was no doubt at all about that: it was a fact. So, I said to Charlie that I was game to give it a whirl and then asked him when he thought that out first attempt at coupling should be.

“As no one else is here right now, there is no time like the present” he replied, and before I could move, he had grabbed hold of me and started to kiss my nipples. I have to say that I did not find this at all unpleasant even though it was the first time that I had ever been touched by another man, other than on the football field. I could already feel my man-meat stirring between my legs as Charlie dropped to his knees in front of me and took my rapidly hardening cock in his mouth and started sucking hard. Like many inexperience guys, I could hardly control myself and started to exude pre-cum almost immediately.

Charlie, feeling this, suddenly withdrew my cock from his mouth and said, “Quick, try and shaft me now, as I reckon you are ready.”

Well, you can imagine how I felt, as all this had happened at such an alarming speed, that I had really no idea what I should do or had I known what to do, how I should go about it. I had wanted to fuck some guy’s butt for so long now, but all this was so very sudden that I was not in the least prepared for it. My Internet sex education had taught me the rudiments, but now faced with the reality, I was almost in a panic. Fortunately, Charlie had a clear practical bent, and leaned across a table which happened to be in the changing room, and spread his legs, to give me access to his anus. I had seen lots of lads naked many times before, but never had I had the opportunity to examine a guy’s posterior anatomy in such detail and at such close quarters as was now offered to me.

Looking at Charlie’s hole it struck me how very small it seemed to be: no more than a slight pucker in the flesh and this, I guessed was where I was supposed to stick my meat: it just did not look possible, for by now I was fully hard and sporting a cock with a considerable girth. I asked myself whether it would ever fit in what seemed a minute hole – in fact it was not even a hole, but rather a dent: his anus was very, very tight.

“What are you waiting for? Go ahead and shove your cock into my hole: that is exactly what I want you to do,” came the exhortation from my partner.

“Charlie, it really does not look big enough for me to enter. It’s just a small hole and my dick is now so thick that I doubt I will ever get it into you.”

“Sebastian, you really are a dumb fuckhead! Surely you know that a guy’s hole is closed by a powerful muscle called the anal sphincter, which is why it looks so small. Just push your knob against it and eventually it will yield and you will be able to shaft me. Go on, just do it! We’ve agreed that we are going to try to fuck, so don’t give up before we have even begun. Just force your dick hard against my hole and according to all I have read, it will yield and you will be able to shaft me with the full length of your piece. Apparently it hurts a bit for me, the first few times a guy gets his arse fucked, but that is all supposed to be part of the experience. So, just press on and don’t mind me I if moan a bit. Just bloody well do it. Don’t fuck around. It is exactly what I want, what I have been dreaming about for months. So just do it. Go on, stick it to me!”

I am sure that you will find me very naive, when I say that I had not until that moment heard of the anal sphincter, so Charlie was really much more conversant as to what was involved in an anal fuck than I was. I guess I must have thought that I would just push my cock into a hole and that would be that. That would have to force myself into my partner was something which I had not at all anticipated. Anyway, no one could doubt that with all the exhortations Charlie had just given me that he wanted me to fuck him, so I went ahead and did what he had asked.

As the knob of my cock touched Charlie’s anus, I felt the strong resistance that this sphincter muscle clearly presented to intrusion of a foreign body, but I pressed harder and felt the muscle begin to yield and the hole begin to open, so I continued forcing my cock into Charlie until had given him my full length. I realized almost immediately that if we were going to do this regularly, we needed some form of lubrication to ease the contact between my cock and his rectum as it was all very dry and not very comfortable. This was confirmed as I started pumping for my cock for it certainly did not slide smoothly in and out of Charlie’s hole the way I had seen it in the Internet porn channels. Anyway, at Charlie’s insistence I pressed on and it did not take me, as a beginner very long to reach a climax and I shot a huge wad of cum into Charlie.

On this, our first time together, had no idea at all of trying to please Charlie and bring him to a climax simultaneously with my own. I simply bashed on and experienced the greatest orgasm I had ever had. Fucking Charlie, I saw, was infinitely better than jerking off myself: the intensity of the orgasm and the amount of cum I pumped were in another league to what I achieved via my five fingered lover.

I really have no idea what Charlie experienced as I gave him his first taste of a cock up his arse. I don’t think either of us expressed our feelings to each other, but somehow we both knew that we had to go on: this was not a one off occasion.

Chapter 4

So, now you know how I started my sex life, aged just seventeen years old, with my partner of the same age. Charlie and I had sex two or three times a week for the next eighteen months until we finally left Sheldon in the summer of 2011. I do not know looking back on things, just now we managed to keep our relationship a secret, but no one ever suspected that he and I were fuck-buddies.

As Charlie said right at the start of our relationship, it was in our own interest to keep quiet and just get on with copulating: no boasting, no braggadocio, no talk about our activity at all. And, as he rightly pointed out, if Woody Prick, the headmaster, ever found out about us, we would be in for the high jump and the old Prick would surely give our arses a monumental roasting with his cane. And you can believe me when I tell you that this was an event to be avoided at all costs, as my few earlier encounters with the Prick, his PP and his beating of naked arses had taught me: definitely a no, no!

Looking back on things, I realize now that the relationship which Charlie and I enjoyed, and that is truly the right word, for we both enjoyed every minute of what we did together, was really strange. From the moment it was established that I was using my cock on his arse, things never, ever changed. Charlie loved being shafted and had never expressed any desire to have a return match, as it were. And now, years later, although I saw Charlie naked both in the showers and when we were alone together, I cannot, for the life in me, recollect what his cock was like! All I know is that I was chivvied in a good natured (envious, I guess) way in the showers by my classmates, because I had, by the time I turned eighteen on January 1 2011, an absolutely formidable piece of man- meat, which was the envy of everyone who saw it.

And so it was that when we left Sheldon, Charlie and I simply said goodbye, as if we were both going home for the vacation and after that I neither saw nor heard from him ever again. It was as if our relationship had been for nothing. Neither of us had any emotional attachment to the other and we just parted, as friends, but without any lasting memories the one for the other. In retrospect, our liaison had been one of sheer physical necessity and when we parted, I guess we both expected that somehow we would each find an agreeably partner to pick up where we had left off.

But, before we leave Sheldon behind forever and allow my memories of my time there to fade, it is worthwhile recounting what happened to that slimy bastard of a sports master, Mr Simmons, easily the most heartily hated master at my time at the school. It was in 2010 that Mr Simmons suddenly, as if by magic, disappeared from the school. We the boys learned of his departure at the Monday morning assembly, when Woody Prick , the headmaster among his customary comments, suddenly announced that on the previous Saturday evening, Mr Simmons had been taken violently ill and had had to be carted off to hospital. What the illness was and to which hospital he had been taken were left unsaid. And frankly I don’t think that any of us boys and possibly even his staff colleagues much cared.

Well, of course, there was a tremendous buzz of intrigue among us boys as to what had happened to Mr. Simmons, but nothing more was ever said about him. His illness, if illness he had had, clearly prevented him from ever returning to Sheldon, for within a few days, a temporary PE teacher was in place and within a month the post was filled by a full time new face, Mr. Chadwick, who turned out to be a very popular staff member, both with the boys and his colleagues, alike.

But fate, or better, chance, finally gave me the full story of Mr Simmons’s demise, in the form of Mr Robert Crowther, the very well-liked Master who taught English literature at Sheldon. I am jumping ahead of myself here, as it is worthwhile recounting what actually happened regarding Mr. Simmons.

Chapter 5

It was several years later and at the time I was already well established as a Male escort in New York. One of my regular clients worked at a high level in a well-known firm of publishers. I had just finished servicing his needs late one afternoon, when out of the blue, he invited me to a cocktail party which was being given that evening in honour of one of their new authors, for whom they had just published an anthology of his poems. I was not really sure why he should give me this invitation, but having nothing better to do that evening, I accepted, and so, together we walked to the nearby hotel, where the party was being held.

Well, you can imagine my surprise, when I discovered that the new author in whose honour the party was being given was none other than Mr Crowther, my old teacher of English literature at Sheldon. He was as surprised as I was to meet me there and I simply told him that I was an acquaintance of one of the senior staff at the firm and that he had invited me to join him, quite unexpectedly. Mr Crowther had no idea what I did for a living and I avoided touching on the subject. The upshot was that he asked me to stay on at the end of the party and have dinner with him, which I willingly did. And, over the meal, among other things we discussed about Sheldon, here out of the blue, I finally learned the facts leading up to the demise of Mr Simmons, which I will allow Mr. Crowther to tell us in his own words.

“I had, over a period of several months become increasingly disturbed by what I considered the brutal, sadistic use of corporal punishment by the headmaster, Mr Woodderowffe –Pryce, the Prick as we the boys called him, and the way Mr Simmons was allowed to hit boys during gym classes with the leather strap which seemed to be a permanently in his hand.”

“I came across the first indication that there was widespread corporal abuse in the school when, quite by chance, I entered, one Friday night at lights out, one of the dorms to find the boys all examining the buttocks of one of their classmates, Toby Pennington Smith, who had been on the so called Punishment Parade that afternoon and had been given twelve cuts of the cane across his naked buttocks by the headmaster. I was totally appalled by what I saw, for this poor boy’s buttocks were criss-crossed with dark welts from the cane, which were already turning black and blue. So, for the record I fetched my camera and took a photograph of the boy’s backside. Talking to the other boys, I learned that Toby’s experience was typical of a visit to the headmaster, who was clearly a believer in hard caning.”

“I then asked Toby what had been his offence to merit such a severe beating, to learn that he had risen tardily from his seat when Mr. Simmons came into the classroom, as a result of which Mr. Simmons had placed him on the Punishment Parade list, with the result I was now looking at. I was amazed that such a minor offence, if one could even call it an offence at all, had given rise to such a severe beating. So, my suspicions became aroused and I took to visiting the dorms on Friday evenings after the headmaster had carried out his weekly beating exercise and I rapidly became appalled at the brutality with which the cane had been used on the naked buttocks of the boys.”

“So, from then on, over several weeks, I built up a photographic record of boys who had been beaten and the nature of the ‘offence’ Very occasionally, a boy merited a good beating, but not in the sadistic way that I was seeing corporal punishment being administered at Sheldon. More often than not boys were being punished for piffling misdemeanours, which in no way merited the severe beatings being inflicted on them.”

“Then by chance, one day in the shower room, I came across a boy who had just taken six or so whacks across his buttocks from the strap which Mr. Simmons always had in his hand in the gym. His buttocks were an angry red and I learned that this was a regular occurrence during gym classes. Mr Simmons lashed out at any boy whom he thought was slacking, so that after every class there were always a few boys with sore posteriors. Again I was seriously disturbed by what I saw was a totally sadistic abuse of the system, for the school rules stated specifically that only the headmaster was authorized to administer corporal punishment, and here was Simmons lashing out at boys.”

“The matter became even more sinister, when I analyzed the punishment book prepared each Thursday evening by the school secretary, Miss Pimlott, listing the boys who had to attend the Friday afternoon Parade. I discovered, to my disgust, that 85 percent of all the entries had been made at the behest of Mr. Simmons. It was now as plain as a pikestaff that he and the headmaster were colluding to see that there was always a good Friday afternoon attendance, so that the headmaster could satisfy his sadistic bent to the full. All this was made even more flagrantly obvious, when I learned that Mr. Simmons was always present in the headmaster’s study when the Friday beatings took place: they were a pair of sadist who enjoyed punishing the boys with the cane.”

“For a while, in spite of a large photo dossier documenting case after case of excessive use of the cane, I had no clear idea of what to do. I wanted to do something to change things, but what? Well, the matter came to a head and enabled me to resolve the situation in a totally unexpected way.”

“It was late one Saturday afternoon and I just happened to be passing the door to the shower room, when I heard, through the closed door a muffled cry.”

“Please sir, don't! Please sir, don't! Please sir stop! I don’t like what you are trying to do to me.”

“It was obvious that the speaker was in considerable distress and so I opened the door to see what was happening. To my amazement, I found Mr Simmons, with his trouser's fly open and his cock sticking out in process of trying to bugger one of senior pupils, a boy called John O’Brian. For a brief moment as I watched, I saw Mr. Simmons trying in vain to overcome. luckily without success the resistance of O'Brian, who clearly did not want or welcome the attention he was getting from the sports master."

“Mr Simmons, what on earth do you think you are doing to this boy? You are in the process of trying to molest sexually a minor, a boy in your care as a master of this school and for whom you stand and are supposed to act in loco parentis, if you know what that means. You sir are nothing more than a pederast and you are in process of trying to bugger O’Brian. Thank goodness, thanks to O'Brian's resistance, that you have not succeeded in your aim. Now get out of here Simmons before I call the police. Believe me. Simmons, you are an absolute disgrace both to the school and to our profession. This is an end of your career in this school and as a school master in general. If O’Brian decides to press criminal charges against you, then I shall be very willing to act as a witness and testify to what I have just seen. If the police hear about this, you will certainly be prosecuted for our actions and let me tell you, you will most likely finish up with a gaol sentence: sexually abusing a minor is a very serious offence indeed! And I might add, that for all I know you may have attempted to bugger other boys before today's unsuccessful attempt.”

“Simmons started to bluster and to say that it was all a misunderstanding and that he was only trying to help O’Brian over a difficult period in his development etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseam.”

“Simmons, shut up and get out of here. You are a pederast caught molesting a minor and you will be judged as such. Now, for the third time get out!”

“When Simmons had left, I asked O’Brian what had happened. I learned that he had been taking a lone shower after having been working out alone that afternoon in the gym, when Simmons had entered and had literally grabbed the boy and tried, unsuccessfully to force himself upon him. I further learned that O’Brian had never had any sexual contact with anyone and that he had, as I saw for myself resisted the unwanted attack by Simmons. I realised that I had arrived just in the nick of time, otherwise Simmons would have clearly succeeded in his desire to bugger the boy, as O'Brian's cries had testified. I told O’Brian to get dressed and find his class mates in the common room, while I decided what I was now going to do.”

“It was this incident which gave me the final ammunition to tackle the headmaster and try to change the way the school was run. So, without waiting, I collected the dossier on the beatings I had prepared and went to the headmaster’s study, which I entered without knocking and sat down in front to Woodderrowffe-Pryce without any invitation, for had decided that the best way for wad was by a vigorous attack, as I was so sure of my facts.”

“The headmaster was sitting behind his desk writing a letter as I burst into his study. He raised his head and said, ‘Mr Crowther, what on earth is the reason for this unwarranted intrusion? Have you lost your senses, man? You are a junior master in this establishment and as such you do not simply storm into my study uninvited and without a prior appointment and sit down in front of me without so much as, ‘by your leave’. Kindly get up out of that chair and leave this place immediately, as I have no intention of receiving you now, for as you can see I am very busy. If you wish to see me, then make an appointment via Miss Pimlott, who manages my engagement’s diary. I have to tell you that your outrageous behaviour will not be overlooked. Now kindly leave my study forthwith!’ And with that he turned back to his letter writing as a gesture of dismissal”

“I listened impassively and then said, ‘Headmaster, kindly shut up and listen. I am not leaving this room until a very, very serious matter is settled. Do I make myself clear? I have the very disagreeable duty to tell you that just an hour or so ago, I found Mr Simmons, in the shower room, attempting to engaged in a gross sexual act with the boy, David O’Brian, who was clearly deeply distressed by what Mr Simmons was trying to do to him. Simmons was, in fact, intent on committing an act of buggery on O’Brian and it is only thanks to chance that I came upon the scene before any true damage was done.’”

“By now, the headmaster was beginning to feel vaguely uneasy and said more gently, ‘Surely, Mr. Crowther, you must be mistaken. I cannot believe that Mr. Simmons would ever attempt commit such an act: you are surely mistaken.’”

“No, Headmaster, I am not mistaken. Simmons intent on buggering O’Brian, I saw it with my own eyes,; Simmoms had his penis out of his trousers totally erect and, had I not come upon them when I did, he would have penetrated O'Brain's anus. I have since spoken to O’Brian, who is willing to testify to the police, that Simmons pounced upon him unawares and attempted to bugger him and I myself am quite willing to testify as to what I saw Simmons attempting to do to O’Brian.”

“The headmaster was now beginning to feel very uneasy indeed, but went on, ‘Come, come, Mr. Crowther, this is a very serious allegation you are making against a colleague. Think again. Surely you are mistaken.’”

“Headmaster, let me spell this out to you in the most graphic detail. Simmons had his penis ready to insert into O’Brian’s anus. In vulgar terms, in case you still have not got the message, Simmons was attempting, unsuccessfully as it now truns out, to fuck O’Brian’s arse. He was intent on committing a criminal act on a minor, moreover, a minor in his care. Simmons has got to go, and to go from this school immediately, or I call the police.”

“The headmaster was now feeling more than uneasy, for he finally realized that Mr. Crowther meant business. ‘If things are as you say, and I have to repeat the word, if, then perhaps we should get Mr. Simmons to make a formal apology to O’Brian and promise never to allow such a ‘lapse of judgement’ to occur ever again. After all, Mr Simmons is a long established and valued member of my staff and I would hate to see his career ruined because of one unfortunate incident. And let us be quite clear, Mr Crowher, nothing actually happened”

“Headmaster, be realistic; wheter Mr Simmons actually achieved his objective or not is not the point. Mr. Simmons is not the kind of person who should be allowed contact with adolescent boys. So in this case he failed in his objective. But let us be quite clear; Mr Simmons, like it or not, is a bugger.has to go. For all we know, Simmons may have buggered other boys before today, acts which have never seen the light of day. Mr Simmons is your right-hand man and panders to your every whim. and he is clearly a psychopathic sadist. He belts the boys across their buttocks in the gym with a heavy leather strap, an act which is strictly forbidden by the school rules. Moreover, you and he work as a team to ensure that your Friday evening “Punishment Parade” is always well supplied with boys to thrash. The headmaster started to bluster at this and to deny any liaison or collusion with Simmons, but I just pressed on.”

“Headmaster, I have done an analysis of the punishment book compiled by Miss Pimlott over the last year. I was staggered to see that nearly 85%, yes, that is the correct figure, 85% of all entries were from punishment slips made out by Mr. Simmons. Additionally, headmaster, you are excessively brutal in the way you beat the boys. Just take a look at these photos of the buttocks of boys whom you have caned excessively in the last year, for truly piffling offences, none of which merited a caning and certainly not the thrashing you inflicted on their naked buttock.Frankly, if the police were to see these photographs, then you would most certainly be prosecuted for bodily assault on minors under your care.”

“As of today, headmaster, things have got to change. Mr Simmons has to go immediately and you have to stop your excessive brutality when administering the cane. I am not at all against the use of the cane, for I think a good sharp dose can stop many boys in their tracks, but not the excessively brutal way in which you use it: You are just too brutal: and you clearly enjoy what you are doing, which frankly, is not the object of the exercise, headmaster.”

“By this stage I could see that the headmaster was really beginning to feel very uncomfortable as he realized that I had truly got the bit between my teeth and had the evidence to make life both for Simmons and himself really difficult. He tried, nevertheless, to salvage what he could of the situation: a vain hope as I was now more than ever determined to see the thing through to the end!” 

‘Mr. Crowther,’ he said, with more conviction than he actually felt, ‘you really seem to be very sure of yourself. Are you certain about Mr. Simmons’s actions with O’Brian? And as for the use of the cane and so on, that it is just part of parcel of the life in a school such as this. Surely we should give Mr. Simmons the benefit of the doubt and allow him to excuse himself, if things are as you say they are. And as for the beatings I give the boys, well I am always trying to set them on the path to moral rectitude.’”

“Headmaster, the situation is as simple as this. Either Simmons goes immediately or I go today, this very evening with O’Brian, my photos and the punishment book to the police.”

“The headmaster, now totally flustered, said,’Well, if you are so sure, let us get Simmons in here and give him a chance to explain the situation and then, if things are as you suspect, we can agree with Simmons that he will leave at the end of the term. After all, we do not wish to ruin his career over one lapse of judgement, do we?’”

“Headmaster, things are not as I suspect; suspicion does not enter into the matter. The facts are exactly as I have just presented them out to you. Mr Simmons is a pederast,a bugger, a bully and a sadist, and either he goes today or I go to the police, in which case, your position in the school will be totally jeopardized and frankly, the pair of you will probably be prosecuted and jailed for your actions. What I have just exposed to you is,whether you admit it or not, the tip of an iceberg of abuse, which has been going on here for years and who knows where a more searching investigation might lead. Both Simmons and you could finish up in prison, which may well be where you both belong. As for his career, well as far as being a school master is concerned, that is over as of now. This man must never be allowed anywhere near any boys ever again: he is a menace and must be stopped. So, headmaster, decide; it is in your own hands; either Simmons goes today or I go straight to the police today. And do not even think about giving him a ‘whitewash’ reference. That is totally out of the question Simmons must never again work as a schoolmaster anywhere. Do I make myself clear?”

“The headmaster, as you might well imagine, was now in a near blind panic. What could he do? I could see the thoughts flashing through is mind as I sat there in front of him. Either Simmons went, or the police became involved and god only knows where that might lead. So, in one last attempt to salvage something from this shipwreck which I had brought upon him, and before, in sheer desperation to save his own skin and throwing Simmons to the dogs, he made one last attempt and said, ‘Mr Crowther, please try to be reasonable. It is now late afternoon and Mr. Simmons cannot leave today. Surely we can sort something out so that the leaves, say, at the end of the month and that way the whole thing can be allowed gently to fade away.’”

“He was about to go on, but I cut him short. “Headmaster, I have given you what, in modern parlance, is called the ‘deal’. As it is late in the day, Simmons may stay in his rooms tonight, but tomorrow morning he leaves before noon. That will give him time to put together a few essentials to take with him, and the rest of his belonging will have to be packed up by the faithful Mr. Hickman, the school janitor and general factotum, and sent on to him. That is ‘the deal’: you get rid of Simmons today and have a chance to save your own skin. “

"I was really being very brutal with th headmaster at this stage, but I thought that I had already burned my boats, so I may as ell go on to the bitter end."

"'But where is he going to go? Tomorrow is Sunday and there are no buses or trains. How is he going to get anywhere?’”

“Headmaster, it is a matter of supreme indifference to me where Mr. Simmons goes or how he gets there. He can hire a taxi and check himself into some hotel to give himself time to collect his thoughts and let me tell you, he has a hell of a lot to think about. So headmaster, the choice is yours. Decide! Either Simmons goes tomorrow morning with no references or I go straight to the police right now!.”

“'You drive a hard bargain, Mr Crowther. I will inform Mr Simmons of my decision. He leaves tomorrow.'”

“A wise decision, headmaster! Things have needed straightening out in this school for a long time. Believe me when I say that there will be many a dry eye among the boys when they learn that Mr Simmons is no longer with us. Frankly, headmaster, his nickname, Slimy, was very apt and we shall all, my fellow masters and the boys, be glad to see the back of him: Simmons is an utter disgrace to our profession, which will be better off without him!”

“On another matter, I now expect to see the punishment parade greatly diminished. As a start, I suggest you ‘pardon’ all boys on next Friday’s parade, who were put on report by the late lamented Mr. Simmons and that as you administer the cane to those boys remaining, who do truly merit a short sharp shock, you remember that you are correcting them and not, in fact, indulging your own sadistic nature on their buttocks. Is it really necessary, headmaster, that you apply the cane to their naked buttocks? Surely that is not necessary. Enough pain can certainly be administered through the boys’ trousers to make them mend their ways. In fact, I suggest you start bringing the school into the twenty-first century, and abolish the parade completely. Good afternoon, headmaster, and I trust you will have a pleasant Sunday.”

“And with that, I left the headmaster to his thoughts. I had surprised myself that I had managed to stick to my guns. I had, in fact, been inwardly very sure of my ground, but had had to steel myself and pull all my courage together to address the headmaster in such an authoritative way. At the end of the day, I felt proud of what I had achieved although no-one would ever know my part in the demise of Mr. Simmons. I felt totally vindicated in what I had done by the fact that during this long and difficult meeting with the headmaster, Mr. Simmons had never been invited to join us and, at the end of the day, Woodderowffe-Pryce, to save his own skin, was willing to throw his right- hand man to the dogs, without even allowing him to defend himself. I was sure that my analysis of the collusion between the pair of them was correct.”

“So there, Sebastian, you have the whole story of what happened to Mr Simmons. Apart from myself and the headmaster, you are the first person to know the full facts, as I have never spoken of it to anyone until today. The school in general, masters and boys included, never knew why Simmons had suddenly disappeared from the scene. The Headmaster announced at the Monday morning assembly to the staff and boys together, that Mr Simmons had been taken seriously ill and had had to be rushed to hospital. No one thought to ask where or how he was and no-one ever questioned the headmaster on his explanation of his sudden disappearance. Also, as you must remember, on that same occasion, the headmaster announced the abolition of the Punishment Parade so that things changed for the better immediately.”

“Well Sebastian, enough about Sheldon, how about you, what have you been up to since you left our hallowed halls? What are you yourself, doing for a living?”

Mr Crowther had now touched on the very subject which I fervently wished to avoid, but there it was: the question was asked, what was I to say to him – that I fucked rich men’s arses for a living? I paused, trying to think of what to say and not to tell a downright lie, when Mr Crowther, smiling, said, “If it helps you, I can tell you that I know about the liaison you had with Charles Tennant during your final years at Sheldon.”

“How the hell did you know about Charlie and me, for we never breathed a word of our activities to anyone.”

“Oh, you know, Sebastian, I am a sharp observer of human behaviour and after a while it became clear to me that there was more than just a classmate friendship going on between the two of you. I am right, aren’t I? Anyway, as the saying goes, it takes one to know one!”

“Mr. Crowther, you don’t mean…”

“Well, yes, exactly. That is precisely what I mean. You and Charlie Tennant are both gay, and I myself am as gay as the pair of you! So there you have it. So, Sebastian, now that I have let the cat out the bag, tell me all about what you are now doing.”

“Well, knowing what I now know, you have made my task a lot easier. When left Sheldon, I had no idea what I was going to do and quite by chance in New York I fell in with a group of really great guys, and finished up becoming a Male Escort. I guess I don’t need to spell out to you what that means I do for a living.”

“I should have guessed. You know why? Well the guy from the publishers who invited you here tonight and I have a thing going together. He’s another one of our fraternity, and I guess, now that you have told me what you do, that he is one of your clients.”

“Bingo! You’ve got it! In fact I had just finished servicing him this afternoon when, out of the blue, he invited me to this party; so that is why I am here.”

“Well, as we are together and as the party was in my honour how about you and I having a bit of action together? Not to put too fine a point on it, Sebastian, I would really enjoy a good fuck to end the day. So, how about it?”

I will end this part of the story here without going into details, but I did of course agree and we had a great couple of hours together in his room. I have never seen Mr Crowther again since that day.

End of Part 1/6