As he drew closer, the tunnel’s entrance, despite its blazing bleached sterility, seemed as warm and inviting as the flesh between a lover’s lips and Roger suddenly felt ashamed, almost bereft, at his lack of belief as several arms of light leapt from the tunnel’s mouth and swept him up in their embrace, pulling him inside.
1969
The bell rang for the end of the school-day and most of the class quickly made their way out of the door, eager to be on their way home.
Andrew Curtis lagged behind, putting his books away slowly, deliberately.
“Have you no home to go to, Curtis? Or are you in love with me and can’t bear to leave?”
The boy hurriedly packed his things and made for the exit, casting Mr Wraith a fearful glance as he left. The corridor outside was deserted but Andrew stepped carefully all the same. Chris Hawkins had threatened him earlier in the day and he was keen to avoid a beating. He walked stealthily along the corridor, his footsteps cautious and quiet. Not quiet enough, though. A pair of arms reached out from an open classroom door and dragged him inside.
“Hello, gay-boy!”
Chris Hawkins stood in front of him, his two henchmen guarding the door. Andrew quivered as he realised he was alone with the front row of the school rugby team. Hawkins and his pals had four inches in height on him and a good three stone each in weight to their advantage.
“As I’m sure you are aware, gay-boy, me and my mates here had to do an after-school detention yesterday because some fucker shopped us for going into town at lunch.”
Curtis’s eyes were already welling up, his bottom lip starting to quiver.
“Any idea who that fucker was, Curtis?”
“No, Chris. I’ve no idea. Honest!”
“You lying fuck! I know it was you because Mr Howells told me. I’m the only reason his rugby team win so he kisses up to me to keep me in his good books.”
Curtis swallowed hard and prepared himself for a good hiding as Hawkins rolled up his shirt sleeves and walked towards him.
“Fuck him up, Chris!” One of Hawkins pals shouted out.
FUCK HIM!
The voice echoed in Hawkins’ head, banging inside his skull. He thrust his fists to his temples as a headache he’d been suffering for the past couple of days suddenly got worse.
FUCK HIM HARD!
The voice spread from his skull to his guts, pulling at his innards and then to his crotch, tugging like an over enthusiastic lover at his cock. Lust suddenly consumed him as a rock-hard erection threatened to split the zip on his black school trousers.
“Hold him.”
Hawkins’ two mates grabbed Andrew by the arms, easily the equal to his struggles as their leader stepped behind his victim and unleashed his hard-on.
His mates were shocked at the sight of his rampant cock. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Shut the fuck up! This queer’s going to get what’s coming to him.”
Hawkins yanked Curtis’s trousers and underpants down to his ankles and jammed a hand behind the boy’s scrawny neck, forcing his head down, bending him over and exposing his naked buttocks. Grabbing his hard-on with one hand Hawkins lined up his glans with his victim’s tight, puckered anus and thrust himself in, balls deep. Curtis screamed as Hawkins ripped into his rectum, stabbing into him over and again, the smaller boy’s sobbing howls echoing all through the building, drowning out the sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor outside.
“I’ve got a pounding headache and I’m trying to get some work done. What the hell is going on in here?”
Hawkins’ erection withered in an instant as he quickly withdrew from his victim’s anus, hurriedly tucking himself back into his trousers. The huge frame of Mr McManus, the headmaster, filled the entire doorway. The rumour was that he used to be an Olympic standard weightlifter but missed out on the games through injury, his disappointment manifesting as a seemingly perpetual rage.
The boys stood statue-still and silent save for Curtis’ whimpering sobs.
“Jesus fucking Christ! You boys,” he indicated the three bullies, “get out of here now!”
The bigger lads didn’t need telling twice and were out of the door in an instant.
“You!” the master’s purple face bore down on the weeping boy, an unmistakeable smell of whisky on his stale breath, “Come with me.”
Curtis fumbled with his underpants and trousers, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Now, boy!” McManus hitched up the back of Curtis’s trousers in a shovel-like hand and virtually carried the boy by the waistband into his office, slamming the door shut behind them.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing, boy? Bringing your filthy ways into my school!”
“It wasn’t my fault, sir. Hawkins did it…”
“You expect me to believe that Hawkins – the pride of the school rugby team – is an ass-fucking queer?”
“But it’s true, sir.”
“Rubbish – you’re the queer, Curtis. A skinny, limp-wristed
