Going Solo For the First Time I was an innocent child when I was sent to my first private boarding school in the Highlands of Scotland about a week after my seventh birthday in September 1960
I was one of three new boys that term. We were all put into a ten-bedded dormitory with about seven others. They were all 'old hands' of eight or nine years. It was very nerve wracking and new. We hadn't left home before and it was all very strange - all these boys, no privacy (I didn't even know that I should miss that) - it was exciting, an adventure, though tinged with sadness at being away from my Mum, Dad and little Brother.
The first week was busy finding my way round the place, sorting out where bathrooms were, where the dining room was, what class room I was supposed to in, all the small things of life that are very important. We were quite well cared for by staff, I suppose, but it was a little scary and lonely.
In the first week staff and senior boys kept a close eye on the settling in of the new boys and other youngsters, helping with 'home-sickness' and giving guidance thro the many 'school rules', making sure that their young charges were safely in bed at night and that all was well generally.
After the first week supervision began to lessen and the boys in the dormitory were left much to their own devices after formal 'lights out'. The time of year was late summer early autumn, the nights were still light until quite late, the curtains of the dormitory were a thin cotton material and the room was really very light. This was not a conducive atmosphere to encourage young lads to go to sleep, and as the newness and strangeness of the situation began to wear off, dormitory discipline started to crumble at the edges. At the beginning there were whispered conversations - talking over the events of the day, talking about the latest sports happenings, the latest pop-songs and so on (I think it was the era of 'Telstar' and the beginning of 'the Beatles').
It was not long before life became quite relaxed in our small, dormitory community. Night-time chats went on and eventually as the evenings progressed the chatting quietened as boys began to drop off to sleep. For a time I was usually one of the first to reach the comfort of sleep - but as I got to know how things worked - I overcame my shyness and joined in the conversation and found that quite often I was lying awake when the talking stopped, alone and content with my seven year old thoughts
As quietness settled over the beds I became aware of the occasional rustle and moan from the beds of some of the older boys. To start with I didn't give this much thought, I just put it down to restlessness and drew a degree of comfort from the sounds of humanity around me. However, it was not too long before my curiosity was pricked. I began to notice the rustles and moans were accompanied by a gentle rhythmic creak of bed springs. The beds were of the iron frame hospital or barracks type with a mesh base and a very thin horse hair mattress, they were quite old and the joints were worn.
These nocturnal noises began to impinge on my mind. It was an odd pattern to my un-tutored thoughts. It wasn't frightening just a bit weird. I eventually noticed after a few nights of listening, that the pre-sleep sounds followed a set outline. First there would be a rustle and a slight creaking of the bed. Then there would be a faint slow creak which grew more defined, a regular beat would follow, like a drum, this would get faster and louder, the speed of the beat would vary from bed to bed and would be of differing durations. Each crescendo would stop suddenly in a drawn out sigh or soft moan, and then there would be a moment of silence before a final rustle and creak as the boy concerned would settle down to sleep.
Eventually my aural spying did not satisfy my curiosity. I gave up pretending to sleep and lay in my bed with my eyes open. The late highland twilight allowed a soft grey light to suffuse the dormitory and let me see quite clearly. To begin with I lay on my side, curled as for sleep, and watched the older boy in the bed next to me. I noticed that as the chatting stopped he would raise his knees beneath the bedclothes causing a slight creak. He lay on his back beneath the thin sheet and blankets. He raised his hips and his hands seemed to rest at his waist - as his hips raised he seemed to untie his pyjamas (these were the days of flanalette pyjamas with a tape waist tie) and push the pj trousers down to his knees. His hands would then return to his waist seeming to concentrate at his groin. The tent of his knees disguised most of what was 'going on' but the activity lead to the rhythmic creaking. I looked at his face and saw that it had a very focused and far-a-way look. His eyes would be closed and as he reached the crescendo his eyes would open, his breathing would become deeper and faster until his neck would arch and he sighed deeply and with a huge measure of satisfaction. I noticed that he did not do this every night but very second or third night.
It became clear to me that other boys were taking similar pre-sleep exercise! Even on the nights when my neighbour was not partaking, the rustles and creaks continued from elsewhere in the dormitory. There was one boy whose bed creaked a lot. His bed was directly opposite me. I noticed that in his case he appeared to start off in the same way as my neighbour - creak, rustle and down with pj bottoms - then he would turn over in his bed. His hands reached out to the head frame of the bed, his hips appeared to press dwn into the mattress, and he would start a rhythmic backwards and forwards slide, pulling his body up the bed by pulling on the head frame and pushing it back down again. This would continue for some minutes with an ever increasing sense of urgency, the bed-head softly knocking against the wall, until he would seem to go rigid, arms tensed as he pulled himself hard up the bed, his hips pressed hard against the bottom sheet, and he would let out a moan as his body relaxed and he rested on his pillow before falling asleep lying on his stomach.
Over the next couple of weeks I noticed that the seven older boys all undertook some form of nocturnal exrcise. Some every night and some every second or third night. I also discovered that some of them even did it in the early morning before the 'wake up' bell rang. I observed that the early morning perfomers tended to be a little less inhibited about noise than their night time companions. Later I thought that this was probably because there was a greater sense of privacy in the pre-dawn. It was also clear to me that none of us three new boys took part.
As late September turned into October the cool, grey but bright days turned into what is known in Scotland as an 'Indian Summer'. The temperature rose and the days became long and warm, bright sunlight filtered into our dormitory windows and there was a high residual warmth to the day when we went to bed. The warmer weather lead to a lifting of spirits, which in turn produced a greater feeling of comradeship among us junior dormitory boys. The 'after lights out' chatting became more animated and there were even some raucous games of 'tig' that broke with much laughter and happiness. However noise levels soon rose too much and attracted the attention of staff and senior boys.
I suppose it was because they felt that rules must be enforced that the staff and seniors thought that discipline had to be imposed. There had been a couple of nights when the noise levels had risen above an accepted norm and the over-seeing staff had come round to quieten down our exuberance. Generally these were quite good humoured 'ticking-offs' and we subsided after a few moments of back-chat and banter. However one eveing matters got a little out of hand and in one riotous game of 'tig', which involved trying to get round the dormitory without touching the floor or without getting caught by the boy you was 'it', too many boys landed on one of the beds which promptly collapsed. We thought it was hilarious - but our joy was short lived when the duty master heard the crash and came to see what was happening. I think he had had a bad day and he had a major sense of humour failure at the scene that greeted him when he entered the room. He raised his voice and we all fell silent and realized we were all in a great deal of trouble.
These were the days when corporal punishment was the norm at private boarding schools, and though I had never experienced it before, I had heard about beatings from other boys who bragged about their 'score-cards'. The duty master sorted out the broken bed and then made us all stand beside our own beds. He read us a lecture about responsibility and keeping the rules and telling us that the rules where there for our 'own good' and so on. He then said that as he could not discover who the ring-leaders were we would all get punished. He started with the oldest boy and made him stand at the end of his bed, then made him lean over so that his hands rested on the blankets and his pyjama bottoms were tight over his back side. The duty master then produced his cane and administered six stinging strokes to the boy's taut rear. It was a point of honour, amongst us boys anyway, that we would not cry when beaten, and the boy managed to live by the code and got into bed quickly but in silence when his punishment was over. The duty master then meted out the same punishment to the next oldest boy and came to each of us in turn. I am afraid that I found it very difficult to live by the code and after a couple of strokes I could not contain my misery and burst into tears. I still thank heavens that I was not the only one, nor the oldest one, to 'break-down' under punishment. But it was embarrassing to be seen in a state of weakness by my 'peers'.
I mention this incident because it had a major affect in completing the group bonding amongst us in the junior dormitory. After the duty-master had seen that we were all settled back in bed and had left us for the night, the inevitable awed whispers started. The boys who had gone to bed in silence were hailed as heroes and those who had failed to hold back the tears were teased by the group but in a generally sympathetic way - well as sympathetic as 7,8,9 year old can be in such circumstances. However we had all bonded into a group having faced and survived a common punishment.
The warm weather continued and after-lights-out activity reverted to its usual pattern. Whispered conversations, slowly fading to the nocturnal rustles and creaks, then peace and soft breathing of ten young boys sleeping.
The temperature slowly rose and after one really hot day the dormitory was very warm, there was no breeze to twitch the curtains and we all lay perspiring in our beds. As usual the quiet chatting started after the senior boy had put out the lights, and as usual the conversation quietened until the only sounds came from the nocturnal exercisers. I was listening and watching as had become my custom before drifting off to sleep when I heard my neighbour give a louder than normal 'rustle' of his bed clothes. I opened my eyes and saw that he had thrown back his blankets and was lying on his back with his knees raised, his pyjama trousers were round his ankles and his hands were concentrated in his groin.
I was fascinated because now I could see what he was doing. I have no idea if he knew I was watching - but he seemed lost in his own world and unconcerned as to whether he was seen or not. I saw that one hand, his left I think, reached down between his thighs and was cupping and holding his balls, he seemed to be rolling them gently in his fingers, his other hand gripped his cock, he had encircled it with index finger and thumb just below its head. His cock was about 3 inches long and had a long foreskin covering its narrow conical head. He began rubbing his cock, moving his hand up and down so that the foreskin was pulled back and forth over its tip. To start with his movements were slow and deliberate and I watched in incredulity as his cock grew in his hand until it stood proud and tall at about 5 inches. I saw his hips begin to flex, and heard the creaking of his bed start. His left hand tightened round his balls and gripped them strongly, his right hand was a moving blur as he stroked his thrusting cock. The movements became quicker and his cock grew harder under my gaze, the tip swelled and I saw that he could no longer get his foreskin back over it on the upward strokes of his hand. He rubbed urgently and the 'drum beat' became more rapid until his body went rigid, his backside lifting off the bed as he thrust his pelvis to meet his blurring hand, his eyes opened and his back arched and he stroked really fast until he tensed like a bow, his body balanced on his head and heels, he thrust upwards one last time and his mouth opened and he let out a gasp of relief, his cock twitched in his hand as his movements slowed. His body relaxed until he was lying flat on his bed, his hands still holding balls and cock as his tumescence subsided.
I was mesmerized by what I had seen and was lying watching him in awe, I had been completely engrossed by what I had seen and was entirely unaware (probably almost as much as he was!) and it came as a great shock to hear other voices saying 'wow', 'that was great', 'hope you enjoyed that Dave!' (my neighbour's name!), as well as several giggles and sniggers. He suddenly became aware of his surrounding again, and heard our companions' comments. He quickly pulled his pants up and grabbed the bed clothes and tried to look unconcerned - he failed at that, but his embarrassment slowly gave way to a smile of satisfaction and pride, and he sat up in his bed and gave a mock bow to his audience. That impressed me very much too.
Whispers ran round the room in suitably impressed and awed tones!! I couldn't think of anything to say - but I was amazed at what I had seen. Slowly the talking died away as we settled down - but there was not silence. There were a lot or rustles and creaking and expending moans in the dormitory that night!!!
I had enjoyed watching him very much but was still to naïve too realize that I too might have that much pleasure from my 'tail'. Though I did wonder - a lot!!
The next night conversation turned to the previous nights events. It was still very hot and most of us were lying on our beds with the covers thrown back - I suppose inhibitions had finally given way as a result of Dave's Exhibition. It was to be an educative night - for me anyway. One of the older guys who had been chatting with his neighbour suddenly stood up and asked if we wanted to see a fanny. The older boys laughed and said 'yes!!!'.
I asked 'Whats a fanny?' - the older lads looked at me in surprise, followed by a lot of rude comments about my ignorance. But I managed to glean from the remarks that while boys had 'tails' or 'cocks and balls' as I was told to call them, girls had a 'fanny' or 'pussy' with nothing sticking out. I was also told that that was why girls had to sit down to pee!
The guy who had offered to show us a fanny offered to show me what one looked like. I agreed and the other boys asked that he show them too! So he stood up at the end of his bed, dropped his pants and stood naked before us. He then pulled his cock down between his thighs allowing his balls to 'pop-up' on either side, he then stood up with his thighs clamped together holding his cock and protruding balls tight between them - it was, I discovered much later in life, a pretty good impression of a fanny!!!.
.Up until that time I thought my cock ( the word I was now beginning to use to describe my 'tail') was for 'spending pennies', but after Dave's Show I began to wonder if it had other purposes. It was during one of the 'nocturnal whispers' that I plucked up the courage to ask the question!! I was told in ribald terms by the 'Fanny Guy' that cocks made babies with fannies. I was stunned and expressed disbelief. He then gave a 'mini-lecture', I think his older brother had told him some of 'the facts of life', and he was remarkably accurate in his descriptions, even if he did miss out some of the finesse of love-making. I suspect that he was describing 'fucking' - there is, I believe, a difference of quality between the two terms.
I then asked how did it all work!! I looked at my slack tail and asked 'how does it get in to the fanny?'. I was told it went stiff and hard (like Dave's) and then it can push in. I thought about this for a time and then (more courage was needed a this point, I recall) asked 'how does it get stiff?'. More stunned silence from my companions - I still suspect that my fellow 'new-boys' were quite relieved that I asked the question, but they kept strangely quiet at the time!
After a slight pause 'Fanny Guy' said 'You do what Dave did. That will make your cock stiff'. I must have looked a bit dubious about that advice because he then said 'OK - watch me, and do what I do.'
A sort of game of 'Simon Says' followed!! He knelt on his bed, pushed his pyjama pants down to his knees. I did the same. The dormitory was now quite quiet - though I did notice a number of 'raised knee tents', including, I was interested to note, the boy who generally slept on his front!
He then reached down and took hold of his cock and began to roll its tip around in his fingers, gently sliding his foreskin back and forward over it. I did the same, and was very surprised to find it a very happy sensation indeed. He continued to stroke himself and I could see his cock begin to rise, very like Dave's had. I also felt a warm glow spreading thro my groin, and I felt my small two inch cock stir between my fingers. 'OOOH!' I thought.
My tutor carried on stroking until he was fully risen, I followed suit! I was staggered, my cock grew long and hard (well much longer and much harder than when in 'pee mode' anyway) and the sensations were astounding. I carried on rubbing for a few minutes, the room was still vocally silent, apart from my guide who was urging me on, but the bed creaks were settling into a syncopated rhythm as the others watched.
At this point my tutor said 'Right! You carry on rubbing your cock, and see what happens!!' - that was his last advice for a while, he then concentrated on himself for himself. His strokes got longer and firmer and more rapid. I watched and tried to do the same. I was now about four inches (maybe a bit more) long and very hard. All my thoughts were focused on what I was doing - I was alone in a bubble of pleasure. I stroked hard and fast, my foreskin sliding over my cock-tip and sending numbing thoughts to my head. I stroked harder and faster as I went on auto-pilot. Suddenly I felt a growing tension in my balls, I could not keep my balance as I knelt on my bed, I needed to lie back, my pelvis thrust at my hand pushing my cock thro my finger-grip. I fell back and realized in the depth of my mind, that I was now doing what Dave did. I rubbed faster and faster I was overwhelmed by intense feelings I felt my balls tighten beneath me and I felt a wonderful warm glow spread over me my cock was so hard and so demanding I stroked quickly until I could not hold back any more my cock twitched in my hand my balls pulsed my cock rippled my hips thrust hard into my hand and I shouted and gasped as I was enveloped in a warm red glow then I collapsed down onto my bed, fingers slowing, body glowing, mind re-focussing, breathing calming and then a wonderful feeling of well being flowed thro me and I relaxed.
After a few moments I returned to reality to a cacophony of the 'bed-spring' orchestra. I looked over to my young tutor, he was beating a quick rhythm, he was still on his knees, but his back was arched, his 'non operational' hand taking his weight as he leant back, his neck was arched and his head thrown back in a state of high excitement. He continued stroking his cock, then he gripped it hard and groaned as his balls twitched and his cock rippled and with one final jerk a thin white bubbly froth burst from its tip. He collapsed groaning to the accompaniment of at least six other boys reaching the heights of ecstasy beneath their tented blankets.
The ensuing silence lasted for a few minutes. Then my tutor said 'OK, Pete - now you are a Wanker!!!!' and my dormitory friends cheered (quietly tho - no one really wanted another visit from the duty-master and his cane!).
I have been one ever since .