Today started like a normal school Saturday. We got woken up by the bell at 8.30 instead of 7.30 and had the usual wash, make the beds and then line up for breakfast routine. I still say that us in the sixth form shouldn't have to line up like kids but Dr. Silva, our House Master, insists. Next year, when I get my own study, I can do what I want and will be treaded like an adult – so he says – but until then I've got to 'play the game'.

Anyhow, breakfast happened and then the usual Saturday morning school. On a Saturday it only lasts from 10.00 until 12.30 and then we get the rest of the day free. There's always something good about Saturdays, even the masters seem more relaxed. Simpson even called me by my first name today. He seemed in a really good mood for a Master, like he had some good luck last night or something. So that added to my Saturday feeling.

After lunch I went to Mr. Myers in the Gym to find out who was going to turn up to Saturday afternoon activities. We started the wrestling club last term and, although numbers haven't been great, it gives me a chance to practice outside of the usual gym lessons. (I must remember to ask Mr. Myers if he sent off my application for the county finals next term. We both think I stand a chance of winning.)

As it turned out there were no takers for the club today. Something to do with the 1st XV playing their first Rugby match of the new season and everyone wanting to go and see if Dean would get his face smashed in by Cranbrook. So there was only me and Mr. Myers in the gym.

'See it as an opportunity,' he said to me as I hung about in the doorway waiting for people to arrive. 'You can work on your technique alone. Have me to yourself.'

I felt a bit let down, particularly as I was hoping William from the fifth form would be coming today, but I put a brave face on and went and got changed.

Normally I'd wear a jock strap under my one-piece but when I opened my bag I realised that I'd left it behind. 'Won't matter,' I thought. 'It's only the Saturday club and not a competition of a proper class. If Myers has a go at me I'll tell him I'm not interested today and go and watch the rugger.'

As it happened it didn't matter. Saturday clubs are not compulsory and no Master can make a fuss if you don't do things right. In fact I even thought there was something strange about his kit today too, but I couldn't work out what just then.

So: we did our solo warm ups, a bit of weights and some aerobics and then he called me into the circle. We went through what we'd been working on last term and more recently: my falls, grips and agility and so on and then he wanted to look at locks.

'I want to teach you the “sidecar,”' he said and I looked at him as if he was mad.

'The what sir?'
'The sidecar,' he replied and I could see his top lip almost smile under his moustache. 'It's not used much anymore but twenty years ago, when I was your age, it was a revelation. A bit like the Fosby Flop in high jump or whatever that was.'

'O.k. sir,' I said slowly. 'You know what you're talking about.'

'Yes I do Darren,' he said and jerked his head, meaning that I should approach.

The second time in one day that one of the Masters had called me by my first name: maybe it's because I'm only two terms away from being in the last year and they are practicing using it?

Anyway, I approached, ready for the first grapple, as if we were starting a new bout. I bent forward, readied my arms and braced myself. Concentrated on the opponent. All six foot and fourteen stone of him. He stared straight into my eyes and I suddenly noticed that his eyes were grey and rather soft, friendly.

'Don't lose your concentration,' he laughed at me.

'What?'

And then I was on my back, he had my left leg up behind his shoulder, a hand pushing on my chest and then I was up on my side with my own shoulder against the floor and I'd lost the whole game.

'I said don't lose your concentration.' He let me go and I stood up.

'Sorry sir.'

I prepared to start again. Went back to the centre of the circle and waited. I watched as he came towards me, he was adjusting the front of his lycra one piece. He was pushing his nuts down and to one side, like his prick was out of place, and that's when I realised he wasn't wearing a jock strap either.

'That was the sidecar,' he said as he wiped his hands on his sides. 'You lost concentration and I got you down without any resistance.'

I was having trouble keeping my concentration again. Whatever he'd done in the front of his one-piece suit had stayed there. I mean; now I could clearly see an outline of what could only have been his cock.

'Eyes on my eyes boy,' he instructed and I looked up, blushing. 'What are you doing?'

'Sorry sir, I was...' I stammered back thinking that he'd caught me looking at his crotch.

'You lost the match so we start again.'

Without realising it I'd got to my hands and knees. When you lose a point, get pushed from the circle or so on, but don't actually lose or finish a round, you don't go back to a standing start, the loser – or second placed man in the wrestle at that time – must get on all fours so that the opponent has the first advantage... I don't need to explain all this! It's much easier to say that while I was looking at his prick I instinctively got on my hands and knees ready for him to attack.

I stood up and we faced each other again. This time I stared into his eyes and forced myself not to look at what I could see stretching the front of his suit.

'Good man,' he encouraged. 'Now I will show you again in slow motion o.k.?'

'Yes sir.'

'Come at me slowly,' we started acting out a standard opening circle and attack. 'That's it, watch for my first move. Anticipate but don't react... good now I'm coming at you. Reach for this shoulder, arm around my neck, that's about it.'

I had one arm behind his head and was bringing the other one up slowly to join it. Like this I could pull him towards me and could get him off his balance. He did the same to me, still in slow motion, and then we had got ourselves into a standard lock. Our heads beside each other staring toward the floor, arms around each others necks: similar to the front row of a scrum.

'O.k. Darren,' he said. 'Hold it there and observe.'

I observed, from above, the outline of a very big prick in the front of his suit.

'Tell me, what would you expect me to do now?' he asked as I checked my position and my technique.

'You will be trying to force my weight towards you so I over compensate and then you will get behind me an attack,' I said. That was standard stuff.

'Like this?'

With that, and still slowly, he pulled me towards him. I pretended to over balance and lent forward – to illustrate the exercise – and he took that opportunity to slide around behind me in the way that any worthy opponent would. Once he was behind me, his arms, instead of being around my neck, moved so that they were around my chest. Because he had (in theory) moved so quickly and while I was off guard, I had let go of his neck and was using my arms to prevent myself from falling to the floor.

In short he was behind me, his body pressed against mine and I was helpless. He had the advantage.

And I could now feel his prick pressing against the small of my back. He's a good six inches taller than me you see so he had his hips over my buttocks, his... cock was against my back and I could even feel a soft mass pressing against me, right at the top of my bum. His balls.

I brought my hands up to his arms, to try and pull them down. Another standard manoeuvre, but as I did this he slipped one foot in between my legs and twisted.

And the next thing I knew I was flat on my back again and my shoulder was to the floor. He'd won again.

His body was pressing down against me. I took a moment to realise where I was and then felt his cock, through the stretch material of his suit, pressing against my bare leg. Now it seemed to be harder. His face was an inch from mine.

'Got you again,' he said but this time he didn't laugh. If anything he sounded stricter, as if he was telling me off. 'Now, you try it.'

I had no idea how to try it! But I got up. We assumed the positions and went through it in slow motion. This time, when we were in the neck lock, I pretended that I couldn't remember what happened next. Actually I was using the time to stare down at his now fully hard prick. I couldn't believe it! He didn't say anything about it. He didn't try and adjust it or hide it. He just left it there pointing upwards and to the side; obvious and huge. And underneath it, the great bulging swell of his bollocks.

'Take your time lad,' he said and that brought me back to where I was.

Without thinking I slipped the move, twisted around behind him and grappled him from behind. So far so good.

Except it wasn't. He has such a broad chest hat my hands barely met across it and, me being shorter than him, my arms were in fact more around his stomach. He saw this and slipped down a bit – so as to try and resemble more accurately the frame of a schoolboy opponent.

But when he did this I became aware of something else. My own prick was also getting hard and trying to stick straight out. It was stretching my lycra and jabbing into the crack between his arse cheeks. And I think he knew this because as he slid down he seemed to wriggle, like some girl being all coy and silly. I'd say that he wriggled on purpose so that he could feel my stiffy more.

'Now,' he coughed a bit but didn't sound any different from before. 'Here's the sidecar move. Put your right leg between my feet...'

I did that and it made me twist a little bit. My cock rubbed sideways against his backside and I could feel his solid bum muscles press on my balls.

'Like this sir?'

'Perfect Darren. Now then, pull me even more towards you and up, if you can. This is easier done quickly but go slow for now till you get the technique.'

I pulled his wide body back against mine and knew immediately what he meant. I was in danger of falling backwards and being flattened by his bulk, but if I'd done this quickly I would have spun him around. He helped by taking some of his own weight and also took hold of both of my arms with his strong hands, to support us both. He was arched against me, bending over backwards (literally) so that his body was stretched taught, his toes only just on the ground and it felt like I was taking all of his weight.

'Now in a second,' he said quickly as the pose was hard work for both of us at that slow speed. 'You pull me to your left and we will both go down. As we do so, you twist me to my back, straddle my legs and let me go. I will hit the floor, you pounce, right hand to shoulder, take my left shoulder from under and pull up. Got it?'

'I think so,' I panted back.

'So, on three.'

He counted to three really slowly. On 'one' he gripped my wrists. On 'two' he slid them down the front of his solid chest and stomach and I could feel my hands burn against his lycra. Then suddenly both my hands were pressed against something fat, solid and hot. Then he said 'three' and I pulled him to his left.

I felt him lose his centre of gravity, felt the rock hard cock that I had just touched slip away from me, his body and mine separated. He rolled away and downwards, dragging me with him. He made a standard fall and was flat on his back as I had been before. Only this time I was aware that I too was falling; down and over him. It seemed right, my body seemed to know what it was doing and before I knew it I had one hand pressed on his shoulder, the other under his arm and our faces were inches apart.

And our cocks were touching. I could feel a hard but pliable lump pushing up against my prick, the two things kind of slid off each other and then mine was lying beside his, pressed against his body. His balls pressed into mine and swamped them. I could feel his breath on my face; see his eyes staring into me. I could feel he hardness of his chest against mine, his breathing measured and rational, mine quick and excited. I could see his lips part slightly, his tongue moved and I felt my own mouth open.

And then I was spinning through the air. He'd retaliated, pushed me off him and spun me over. I was on my front, my shoulder pressed against the mat, the side of my face squashed up and his heavy body was dominating me. I could not move. I felt his thick arms around my waist, his chest pushing painfully into my back and that fucking great cock pressing between the crack of my arse. My legs kicked but I could not escape.

'You have three counts before you lose,' he whispered into my ear.

I tried to push up with my hands. He grabbed for them and wrapped them to my chest again. His stubble burned my ear as it scraped me there.

'One.'

I had only two counts to free myself. I tried to twist sideways. He pushed his thighs closer against me; his weight held me to the floor. I had no option but to push back with my hips. Back and into my teacher's cock. But still I could not escape. He only pushed back harder, the action made my own prick rub against the rubber mat and I could feel the friction through my leotard. All I could think of was the heat on my prick and his body dominating mine.

'Two.'

We struggled, I fought back. He was stronger. And all the time the rubbing and the lycra and the feel and smell of him intensified. And I knew that I was touching his cock and his balls but I couldn't acknowledge it. And I loved the feel of them and knowing that this was all chance and not meant and only training and knowing that... but he was still holding me... owning me... making me so hard... feeling so hard... and all the time pushing in a kind of rhythm against the mat and the lycra...

'Three.'

I felt a hot, wet mass spread against my arse and knew that he had just come. Beneath me my own cock jerked in spasms against my stomach, caught in the confines of my lycra and pressed hard against the mat. I knew I was spewing spunk into my kit, I knew that my hips were jerking, and I knew that Mr. Myers was silently unloading spunk into his costume too. It was soaking through and warming my arse. I could feel his breathing, still calm, still in slow motion and I was aware that I was having to control mine. I couldn't show him what I was doing, what he was doing to me. I couldn't twist beneath him and pull his mouth over mine.

I wanted to turn around and have him hug against me, face to face, but he held me too tight for that. Instead he just lay over me, taking some of his own weight so as not to wind me. He waited there while I felt the last of my ejaculation pump silently into the material of my leotard. Waited while I held his hairy arms and touched them gently, secretly, with my lips. And waited until he knew that I had had enough.

He let me go. I stayed lying face down, hoping that he would say we were done for the day and would leave so that I could get up and change without him seeing the state we were both in.

'So Darren,' he said, 'do you want to try that move again?'

I turned my head and looked up at him. He stood, towering over me, his bloody great prick hanging to one side in his darkened, damp costume as if nothing had happened. He put his hands on his hips, he smiled, his teeth flashing white beneath his moustache, and he shrugged.

'O.k. sir,' I sighed.

I didn't think I had the strength. Apart from which I didn't want him to see the state of my own kit. But nevertheless I rolled onto my back, kicked myself into a sitting position and then got to my feet. He didn't once look at the front of my suit and he never gave any indication that anything had happened.

We spent the rest of that practice session wrestling and rolling around the mat and practicing the 'sidecar' move as our leotards dried on us.

And neither of us mentioned a thing until after we'd showered and were changing. I was just putting my leotard into my kit bag when he said, 'let me have that Darren.'

I shrugged and passed it to him.

'I'll get it washed for you,' he said. And I thought that was kind as Matron would only ask me awkward questions about how it got in that state.

I handed it to him and, just before he put it into his own bag, I was sure I saw him touch it against his face and sniff it.