Walking through local woodland this afternoon on a cold but clear crisp autumnal day, one was interrupted by the noise of a group of noisy schoolboys out doing their weekly cross-country run wearing a variety of garments. Some wore hats, others didnt; others wore gloves and others didnt! Some wore their games shirts (i. e., long-sleeved tops which were coloured according to their school house with white collars and, one feels, more suitable for soccer or rugby than cross-country running) and black nylon football shorts, others wore their gym kit (i. e., plain white cotton T-shirt and plain white cotton shorts), others wore sweatshirts and jogging bottoms: no doubt mindful that during their obligatory run they might pass some _s_e_x_-starved old queen aroused by the sight of pretty boys in shorts and anxious to deprive the ageing pederast of getting an erection as he lusted after their youthful flesh!!! Could the absence of corporal punishment in schools be responsible for the demise of all boys adhering to wearing the kit prescribed in the school prospectus one wonders?! When were I were a lad which is not so long ago one was only permitted to wear white cotton shorts (when exercising in the gym) and white cotton shorts & trainers (when doing cross-country running) with games shirts and coloured shorts only permitted when playing soccer or rugby: "you will run shirtless as I expect to see the sweat pouring off your backs" my Games Master told us! Any boy who deviated from that rule or who wore anything other than that prescribed in the school handbook, or failed to meet Sirs expectations, was in for a very severe spanking indeed!
Just as I was about to despair at the appearance of all but a couple of the boys who sprinted past me, a young god appeared out of nowhere. Dressed in a plain white singlet, pair of plain white cotton shorts, white ankle socks and black training shoes, he was about sixteen years old, 59" tall with blondish hair, hazel green eyes, and I suspect had a chest size of about 36", waist size of about 30" and _c_o_c_k_ size of .... well, I wouldnt like to guess: the appearance and size of a boys tool doesnt matter to me, so long as he suffers the humiliation of exposing it whenever he is spanked as, to quote my old Games Master again, "for a spanking to be effective it must humiliate as much as it hurts"! Although the sun was shining brightly prompting this particular youth to wear sunglasses on his head (no doubt for lowering onto his eyes when he reached a clearing from the trees) it was cold enough for one to feel cold, particularly with ones arms and legs exposed; still the boy before me did not appear to be cold, no doubt immune to the bitter wind by his forced exercise or, I suspect from his wearing of a singlet (as opposed to a games shirt or T-shirt) and his awesome thighs, from being a keen runner: possibly a member of his house or school athletics team.
He also wore a silver chain round his neck something I would insist he remove if ever I were his Master, just to prevent him strangling himself should he "accidentally" fall. My mind wandering as to how much better he would look shirtless, nay naked, I wondered where he trained and just how frequently and severely I would spank him for never meeting my prescribed standards were I ever to be his Master! I could just imagine him standing before me naked apart from his necklace with his hands behind his head and elbows behind his shoulders for admonishment. "Whats that thing round your neck" I would ask him angrily. "My neck-chain Sir, my Mum gave it to me" the boy would no doubt reply. "Take it off" I would order. The nervous boy would oblige and put his hands back behind his head and elbows back behind his shoulders as I had ordered him to do earlier. "Thats better" I would tell him as I confiscated the offending item of jewellery; "when I tell you to strip naked, I mean naked, totally naked .... now then let me have a good look at you. Hmmm, I may not give you a neck-chain boy but Im sure as Hell going to give you a _d_a_m_n_ed good ...."!!!
Suffice to say, all spankings should be given across a boys bare buttocks over his masters knee for long enough and hard enough to turn the boys arse the colour of a ripe tomato all-over prior to the boy being made to spend some time reflecting on his attitude and performance by standing in the corner of the changing room or out in the corridor with his hands behind his head, just his nose and toes touching the wall and his recently reddened arse on display for all to see, before being given a further spanking only this time with Sir's belt, cane, paddle or tawse (or a combination of two or more implements chosen by his master) as opposed to Sir's firm right hand after his master has first satisfied himself as to the boys rectal hygiene, the cut-line of the boys _c_o_c_k_ (if he is circumcised) or state of the boys _c_o_c_k_ underneath his foreskin (if he is uncut) and, from examining the boys balls, that the boy has not been jacking-off for light relief either before or after becoming erect during his earlier spanking. The boy-god before me certainly deserved a caning after causing me to almost ejaculate in my pants just looking at him!
As luck would happen I had my camera on me and I called out to the youth to ask if he would mind posing for me so I could use up the film in my camera. Without questioning my motives, he stopped and graciously obliged. "How do you want me Sir" he asked. Jesus, that did it; for any boy so beautiful as he was to ask "how do you want me" would cure the most impotent of men of what medics call "erectile dysfunction", whilst for that question to be appended with "Sir" suggested he was positively gagging to please his elders and betters!!! I had to restrain myself - lest he report me to his Games Master or worse still the police - and appear to be respectable, apart from which having discovered my woodland trail to also be the route of the boys school cross-country run, one might be tempted to follow it more regularly if the boys also continued to use it after I had persuaded their Games Master to insist they too ran shirtless. "Over there" I told him pointing to a fallen tree, thinking to myself how much better he would look bent over it with his arse on show anxiously waiting a freshly-made switch but reluctantly adding "as if you were jumping over it"!
He graciously obliged. I could see from the outline of his short tight shorts he wasnt wearing anything underneath. "Nice, very nice" I thought to myself. Both wearing his shorts commando and a singlet this boy had to be a seasoned runner; he certainly had the appearance of one! My hands trembled as I took the photo. "Thanks kid" I said. He was back on his feet in no time, no doubt anxious not to lose track of time, and anxious to beat his own record speed, if not for me to have time to beat or _f_u_c_k_ his arse!!! "You had better give me your name and address" I told him, "or at least your name and the name of your school so I can send you a copy of the photo", expecting him to oblige and in the naοve hope I could get to see more of him. If I knew where he was schooled or, better still, lived I could prey on him; who knows, perhaps I may even get to see him undress from the street as I once did one boy whose angry guardian providentially ordered him to strip as I passed his bedroom window and who I stayed to watch (through his bedroom window) as he was given the strap across his _f_u_c_k_able little butt; I may even be able to lure the boy back to my flat no that would be too risky or a hotel room claiming I was some V. I.P. who could offer him a job, but as the work would be "very physical" he would need to bring his shorts and a towel with him as he would probably become quite hot and sweaty, and wouldnt need to wear much but would almost certainly like (or need) to have a shower afterwards!!! No doubt as my punishment for my idol-worshipping or as a deterrent from anything which might otherwise have subsequently followed had the youth agreed, God turned against me. "Its okay Sir" the boy told me, "you dont have to do that". With that, he was gone, almost as quickly as he had arrived, with me being none the wiser as to who he was, where he came from, where he lived or even which school he attended, and just a photo of him for me to drool and ejaculate over!!!
Perhaps Ill venture out on my woodland trail the same time next week and see if I can see him again or, should life be so cruel as to deny me a fleeting glimpse of the boy, perhaps enquire of others less endearing if they knew who he is and which school he attends. The question is, if fate should cause me to see him again, do I "accidentally" trip him up and cause him to graze his knee so I can instruct him to remove his singlet to clean up his wound, and allow my hand to conveniently slip further up his leg and under the hem of his shorts to improve my own eye-hand co-ordination at ball-games with a boys tackle?! I dont know but I do know such delicious eye-candy has resurrected the stirring in my loins and prompt me to hum the tune of "One Fine Day" from Puccinis opera Madama Butterfly.