Lexington Black (12 page)

And yes, I was aware that he was married and
had five children, one of which was in the Grammar School, situated
not far from my college, but call it instinct, gaydar, whatever. I
just knew that he was susceptible. There were no rumours
surrounding him but maybe that was the reason. Anyone whiter than
the driven snow was bound not to be. I had met enough professional
men through my father to learn that. It's always the quiet ones
that have the darkest secrets.

One day, I noticed that his office looked out
onto the running track. Groups of boys were in the middle,
practicing athletics, lithe and agile in small white shorts and
tee-shirts. As he was berating me for my lack of sportsmanship, I
decided that maybe I was more suited to track events. When the
rugby season ended, I signed up for athletics, and to get into some
kind of training, I began to run a few laps before breakfast. I
knew he was in his office by eight every morning, and his desk was
at right angles to the window so that he could gaze out onto the
grounds if he needed inspiration for tricky end-of-term
reports.

I was a long-distance runner, so I was put in
for the 1500 metres at the school's end -of-year sports event. That
meant I wanted to practice every moment I could. I lost count of
the laps I ran around that damned track, hoping to see his face
looking out at me. I would see him sitting at his desk but not once
did he turn around. Not one damned time. It didn't stop me hoping
though. Ever the fucking optimist, I was.

I won the Gold for the 1500 metres that year
though, and the Sportsman Of The Year trophy as well for good
measure. That is what comes of having an unquenchable lust. Channel
it in the right way and eventually, you'll reap the rewards.

And I knew that one day, I would conquer
Charles Martyn. I didn't know how, or when, but there are some
things in life that are certain, like death, taxes, and getting
Charles Martyn in the sack. All I had to do was wait for the right
opportunity, and recognise it when it arose.

The feeling never left me, even after I left
the school for the last time. The last day was a strange mix of
boring and highly satisfying. There was an interminable Leaving
Ceremony with endless awards and speeches, and an excellent roast
beef dinner. Parents, soon-to-be ex pupils and teachers mingled and
talked easily for the first time ever, and one began to see the
real personalities behind the stern masks usually present in the
classroom. I had no idea, for instance, that my English Literature
tutor, who always looked so dour and craggy, played saxophone with
a jazz band in his spare time, and smoked huge Havana cigars. He
also had a dry wit that I had never appreciated before.

The only person that seemed untouchable was
Charles Martyn. He spoke warmly enough to my father, but stopped
short of making eye contact with myself, except to say that he
hoped I would consider attending the Old Boys' Annual Dinner in
January, a few months from then. I told him I wouldn't miss it for
anything, and received a faint smile in return.

******

I flew especially from California, spent a
few days in London with the Queens, and indulged in the sort of
Bacchanalian antics which should have killed me. By then I was well
versed in the pleasures of the flesh. I had spent the previous
summer in California, studiously avoiding my parents and choosing
instead to surf and party in and around Venice Beach. I was
learning what I liked and what I was good at. I didn't like taking
it up the ass but I enjoyed giving it. Some aggression was okay,
even preferable, as long as it was mixed with tenderness. I was
good at deep throat, having little gag reflex, but the cock had to
be clean. I wasn't into piss play, pain, or hairy guys. A bit of
ass fuzz was acceptable but it was a fine line. I preferred a clean
junk and kept myself smooth and hair-free. Oh, and cruising was fun
if you weren't that fussy, but I was.

Like I said, sensual pleasure was familiar to
me by the time I landed back in England.

The dinner was in the Great Hall. Like
everyone else, I was dressed in a tuxedo, black tie, the works.
Looking pretty good, I'd have to say. It was fun seeing all the old
muckers again, most of whom had just started university. I felt
older and wiser than a lot of them. To me, they were still boys,
playing dress-up in their fathers' suits. Some of them were still
virgins, for Christ's sake.

The only exceptions were the teachers, formal
in robes over their dress shirts, and the Queens, who had turned up
in full drag. No point hiding what they were any more. They both
looked like 1940's Hollywood divas, with exquisite make-up and
hair, glamorous dresses, the business. They caused a bit of a stir
when they walked in but to be honest, they were the most
interesting thing about that evening. The food was average at best,
the speeches were tedious, especially the one by the Head Boy. I
couldn't understand how he was voted into the job in the first
place. No-one liked him. Peter had succinctly called him a "nob"
and it was the best name for him. He had been Nobhead all the time
I knew him in Sixth Form. He always had an inflated idea of his own
importance. I remembered the time he had come on to me only a few
months after joining the Sixth Form. Of course, I had slam-dunked
him for that by breaking his nose on the rugby pitch the next day.
Since then, the only thing he had given me was resentful, lusting
glances when he thought I wasn't looking.

This time he was watching me with narrowed
eyes throughout the evening, but I was too caught up in my own
agenda to worry too much about what he might be thinking. Mr.
Martyn had lost weight and looked almost haunted, although his
manner was convivial enough. More than once I saw him looking my
way. When it happened, I couldn't help smiling inside. I had come
with one specific purpose, and that was to kiss him by the end of
the night. The months away from him had only made him more
desirable to me. He was a prize definitely worth the wait.

We spoke for the first time after the meal,
when people were starting to leave. There were the usual
pleasantries, the enquiries about how I had filled my year and what
life was like at Princeton. I could have replied that I fucked like
a rabbit the previous summer and was finding the libidinous
pleasures of university very stimulating, thank you very much, but
I kept to the party line. In fact, I kept to it so much that I
sounded like a stuck-up bore. It was definitely time to up the
ante.

'Of course, being gay at uni is so much more
fun than it was at school,' I said conversationally. 'It feels so
good to be out of the closet.'

There it was. That flicker of his eyes. Up,
down, drinking me in. In that moment I knew I was right on the
money about his sexuality. No man looked at another like that
unless he was interested in him.

'I wouldn't know,' he murmured, so soft
no-one else could possibly hear him.

I dropped my voice an octave. 'Maybe that's
something we could discuss in private.'

A tremor seemed to pass right through him.
'It's ill-advised,' he said, a sigh catching in his voice. He
walked away, and as he did, I saw the Head Boy watching us.

The last thing I wanted was to compromise Mr.
Martyn's position, but then, I wanted to leave without touching him
even less. I had to make a decision; to risk everything to get what
I wanted, or walk away and ache for an opportunity missed.

The evening slowly wound down. Those who had
travelled a long way to get there had been accommodated in the
guest wing of the Sixth Form College. The students were still on
their Christmas break and would be arriving back the following
week. The rest of the school was also quiet, in readiness for the
term ahead.

I tried to catch Mr. Martyn's eye again but
he was very careful not to look my way. I had spooked him; that
much was clear. I went up to my room still burning with
frustration. By then the need had grown so much it was almost
animal in its intensity, rendering me incapable of rational
thought. The copious amounts of liquor I had consumed didn't help.
I roamed around the room wondering how I could right the
situation.

From my window, I could see a light on in his
office. The blind was down, but I imagined he was sitting at his
desk, doing paperwork, burning the midnight oil. My decision was
made.

No-one saw me as I made my way to his office
and knocked on the door. At his bidding I entered and closed the
door behind me.

He was sitting behind his desk, nursing a
large Scotch. His face was drawn, as if he had recently received
hideous news, and his eyes were hooded. I stood before him,
military-style as was the correct form, hands together in front. By
now it was habit.

'You don't have to stand like that now,
Lexington. You're no longer a pupil at this school.'

'I know but I want you. I mean I want to...'
I rolled my eyes at my own incompetence.

Mr. Martyn shifted in his seat and
straightened his posture slightly. 'How can I help you,
Lexington?'

'It's slightly awkward, sir.'

He came round the desk and stood in front of
me.

'It's always better just to say it,' he said.
I could almost taste the whisky on his breath.

Oh, sweet Jesus, what am I doing? This is
crazy. I'm about to make the most monumental fool of myself and
...

On impulse, I planted my lips on his.

His eyes widened, then drooped closed as he
opened his mouth under mine. For the longest moment we stood,
swaying in the middle of the room. Then he pushed me gently away.
There was no breath left in my body. I could not move. My feet
would not let me. I had kissed the Headmaster, and it felt like
heaven had moved to earth.

The room seemed incredibly quiet. I could
practically hear my heart beating as he placed two fingers under my
chin and tilted my head back up. I stared into those fathomless
brown eyes and smiled slightly, inviting him to kiss me again.

And he did. As his lips brushed against mine,
I could not help a whimper of desire. He stifled it, kissing me
harder. I closed my eyes, drenched in ecstasy. The intoxicating
smell of single malt whisky, cigars and woody aftershave wreathed
around us as his tongue touched mine. Tiny fireworks exploded in my
head. I was dizzy with lust and longing but too soon, it was over.
As he slowly moved away, I was on the tips of my toes, my whole
body yearned to be enfolded in his arms, every nerve-ending
aflame.

'Go back to your room,' he said neutrally.
'Remember to keep your room unlocked, just in case.'

'In case of what, Sir?' I asked
innocently.

'Students should never lock their doors,
Lexington. It's a new safety regulation. A tutor might need to
enter and administer First Aid.'

'How sensible, Sir.' I could not help a
knowing smirk as I turned smartly and left the room.

My heart continued to pump rapidly as I
walked back to the guest wing. Again, all was quiet apart from
drunken laughter coming from one of the other guest rooms. The
Queens had left with three of the other boys, no doubt to continue
the party. They had invited me but I didn't want to miss this
chance. Now I was glad I had turned them down.

I turned the light down low and paced the
room. How long would he be? Would he show up at all? He was taking
one hell of a risk, even though the school was still closed for the
holidays. Surely he wouldn't hazard his reputation just for a few
hours pleasure? I was crazy to think he would.

I undressed down to my underpants, kept my
dress shirt on but unbuttoned, and lay on the bed, hard and
helpless. Idly I fondled myself, reliving his kiss, imagining his
mouth on mine again. My cock distended the white bikini briefs and
looked seriously impressive, rising every time my fingers played
across it. Watching myself turned me on even more. I had achieved
my goal by kissing the Headmaster and that should have been enough
but it wasn't. Not by a long way.

I must have fallen asleep at one point, for I
was woken by a tongue flicking along my inner thigh. I opened my
legs like the slut I was and moaned, tilting my pelvis to draw his
attention to my painfully hard cock.

'Beautiful,' he whispered, nuzzling the
crease between my balls and the top of my thigh and breathing me
in. My eyes flickered open and I saw him sitting on the bed,
looking like the best wet dream ever in a white shirt, unbuttoned
to mid-chest, and snug blue jeans. His feet were already bare. Out
of his official clothes, he looked almost feral, his hair loose and
uncombed.

'I've locked the door,' he said quietly.

'What if a tutor comes in to administer First
Aid?' I asked him, my eyes wide with feigned innocence.

'He's already here.' Mr. Martyn flipped open
my shirt and let me feel the heat of his gaze as it raked over my
body. It was toned and muscled, thanks to all the sport I had done
over the years. His face remained impassive as his eyes roved over
my nut-brown nipples and flat stomach. Although my hair was dark, I
had very little in the way of body hair, and my chest was smooth,
the pectorals well-defined.

I could almost feel his eyes on me as they
moved down my body. I had never seen my erection as huge as it was
right then, its shape and length clearly defined in the snug pants.
As he fixed his gaze upon it, it swelled again, as if drawn towards
his magnetic presence. Boldly I cupped my balls and walked my
fingers up the long, plump ridge, pressing down slightly so it
would jump and swell even further.

'Now you can undress me,' he said, his voice
huskier than it had been before. He rose and stood by the bed. I
crawled to a kneeling position. Glancing down, I liked the way my
cock thrust arrogantly out in front of me. He liked it too, from
the bulge I could now see in his tight jeans.