A miserable morning. As the train arrived the heavens opened and I was forced to take the closest carriage and share with another passenger instead of finding an empty one so that I could indulge my wont for a morning orgasm alone. The forty five minute journey to school seemed interminable and my fellow traveller did not disembark until the penultimate station and with just a minute or two until my stop, a quick jerk off seemed pointless. Never mind, there would be ample opportunity during the school day and aplenty venues where a peaceful and satisfying wank was possible.

I was asked to help at the cricket nets and to bowl a few balls for the schools cricket team captain, a lanky faired haired senior boy whose style and grace with bat impressed almost all the other kids who wanted to play for the school.

I put down a few straight balls which he fended off with ease so I went for a Yorker at his feet. The ball bounced below his bat and rattled the spring loaded stumps. With his bat underarm, the captain gave me a short round of applause and demanded I give him another one, just like the other one. I turned, gripping the ball, fingers astride the seam, took my run up and laid the ball directly at the batsman's feet but he'd sensed my plan and had taken a pace outside his popping crease and met the ball on the full. There is nothing more thrilling in a cricket match than the crack that's made when leather meets willow on a full toss, if not for the nets, the hit would have made the boundary as a good six or at the very least, a single bounce four. The smirk on the captain's face was unmistakably derision, as all good batsmen do, but with a slight twist of admiration for the bowler's speed and accuracy.

In disgust, I picked up my school blazer and headed for the fence where a group of boys were quietly gathering for what was to be the arrival of this month's nude book, that sticky volume of doctored photographs of naked women. The ooh's and ahh's and core blimeys prevalent as the damp pages were carefully prised apart exposing monochrome pictures of heavy breasted women who seemed to lack any semblance of a pubic area because the pictures had been airbrushed to comply with the national censorship regulations. It seems pictures of a naked woman without any pubic hair or vagina was much better for the male population than an “au naturale” representation. But each picture was indeed titillating and it was a fair bet that most, if not all of the group of boys would be wiping spunk off their fingers and trousers with fists full of toilet tissue before the whistle blew. Alone, or in pairs, or in a gathering made no difference, testosterone was the master that dictated the need. I found my quiet place, the relatively unused two stall toilet, beneath the stairs, at the end of the Gymnasium block. The dripping tap water and auto flush of the urinals kept the small room clean and odour free and the toilet seat in the second stall was shiny and perfect to lay back, with trousers at knee and shirt unbuttoned, for a quiet round of enjoyable self abuse.

With eyes closed, I brought myself to a pleasant orgasm but noticed that having missed my usual train bound wank, there was indeed a gout of the sticky fluid on my chin, where it usually fell on and around my belly button.

It wasn't unusual for me to have four or five wanks a day at school, and one more before going to sleep at night, and I'm given to believe that most young men of the age of puberty were the same, although, I'd never actually been aware of adjacent self administration in the toilet stalls.

The top floor toilets were generally used by the senior upper sixth boys and smelled of cigarette smoke rather than urine. It was acceptable for less senior boys to use the facility if needs must, but it was frowned upon and a detailed explanation was required should the junior user be caught leaving by a senior. It usually ended with a slap across the back of the head and a warning not to get caught in there again.

So, I decided to take a look at this forbidden zone and let myself in, making my way to the furthest stall and locking the door.

Trouser at knee and unbuttoned to the neck, I began the ritual of stretching the remains of my clipped foreskin fully back and watching as my cock thickened and its head engorge. Gentle squeezing of my buttocks combined with light thrusting of my hips, soon had me fully erect, with bulging veins and throbbing glans.

The outside door hinges squealed and footsteps echoed in the tiled room. I raised my legs and feet up so that they could not be seen from outside, the door locked and showing engaged but still it shook and rattled as someone tried to push it open. Then someone said that it must still be out of order, and the stall door next to mine slammed shut and the latch clicked home. I heard a rustle of clothes and that distinct sound that zips makes. Quietly leaning to the side, I peered under the side panel and saw two pairs of shoes, facing each other. There was quiet whispering and then the sound of a tongue, clicking rhythmically and moans and muffled gasps, someone was sucking someone's cock and in the quiet of the room, someone squirted cum into someone's mouth which that someone swallowed with loud gulps. There must have been an agreement about mutual satisfaction, because someone was jerking someone off and three good spurts of liquid splattered noisily on the tiled toilet floor.

It took them a few moments to mop the spunk off the tiles with a fists full of toilet paper which was flushed noisily away, and they left their stall, washing their hands before leaving.

I'd lost my erection by now, fearing being caught, decided to take my leave of this den of iniquity. Washing my hands, drying them on the roller towel and opening the toilet door into the upper hallway. To my amazement, there stood two of the most recognisable of school heroes, the school rugby team captain, and the school cricket team captain, they dropped their hands in astonishment and stared at me. The cricket team captain identified me immediately as the fast bowler, the rugby team captain grabbed my blazer collar and demanded to know why I was in his toilet. To which I replied that I'd needed a toilet quickly as I'd had a stomach upset and felt ill. He demanded to know which of the toilets I was in so I lied and told him I was in the first, nearest the entry door, he let go of my blazer and told me to cut along, which is grammar school English for fuck off.

I'd learned two things that day, one, toilet stalls were big enough for two and two, two seemed like twice the fun.

Morning break over, the second session was a full ninety minutes of English literature, where the teacher simply set a chapter or three of a text book to read and leaned back with his newspaper.

The experience in the upper sixth toilets had made me realise that sharing was a fun thing to do and so instead of my book, I studied my classmates and wondered who, if any, would enjoy a toilet stall with me. I sat up and gave the impression that I was reading whilst I was indeed searching the back of the heads of my fellows. As I scanned each boy, I detected a rhythmic motion and realised that at least six of my fellow classmates were using this period to quietly jerk off under their desks, to me, confirming that I was not the only one enjoying the pangs and thrills of advancing puberty. I wondered, if, like me, they too sought out quiet solitude to relieve themselves. On giving it some thought, it occurred to me that of those who were striving for an English Literature orgasm, most were similar to myself, having the beginnings of a healthy growth of pubic hair as well as a rapidly developing penis which was plainly seen in the showers after PT. A few of those boys had obvious difficulties in concealing their semi erections as, like me, they too found the nakedness of their classmates exciting and erotic.

Then I looked to the guys at my flank. The desk next to mine was unoccupied as was my choice, all the better to toss off quietly and unobserved by my peers. The next two desks were untaken and then my eyes met with a classmate of no distinction.

Every class has a few. Young boys who are no trouble to their teacher, bringing passable homework for marking each day, answering their names with a simple “Sir” when called and keeping quiet and without opinion during debates, seldom, if ever raising a hand to a class question. They seem to survive unnoticed and in the background and achieve school reports that adequately satisfy their parents.

The boy who was agaze back at me was one such. I knew his name but very little else about him as I'd dismissed him after the showers as a non competitor. His cock was uncut, small with matching testicles and barely a wisp of pubic hair. He had a wry smile on his lips and he turned back to his reading. Obviously from a poorer family, his school shoes were old and looked like hand me downs, scuffed, unpolished and a little down at heel.

Lunch break was a time of feast for the hungry and for most boys, the dinner ladies provided both discipline as well as humour. Fat and jolly, with large serving spoons, green coated and turbaned head they dished out the lunchtime meals.

For me, and now I knew, others, it offered an opportunity to masturbate in the knowledge that the general population were fully occupied with feeding their faces. I cut across the courtyard to the Gym block and let myself in to my favourite little place, the second stall, and clicked the latch closed. I'd loosened all the necessary buttons belt and zip and dropped my pants to my knees then laid back on the toilet seat to begin the lunchtime ritual when the outer toilet door squealed open and the hand basin tap gushed water. The sound of splashing water followed by the cranking noise of the hand towel machine and the outer door squealed open and slammed shut again but I sensed I was not yet alone and whilst the footsteps where barely perceptible, I knew someone was there, the room was small, enough to accommodate two stalls, opposite a single urinal and a single hand basin, a narrow hopper window was high in the side wall and offered very little sunlight, but enough to show a faint shadow of someone in the room. I looked under the partition and caught a glimpse of scuffed and dirty shoes and knew instantly who it was.

I felt quite at ease and thought that this could be fun and decided to act as though I was quite alone. A shifting shadow and a slight click of plastic made me realise that I was being watched from over the partition so I reached down and deliberately fondled my balls, stretching the skin on my shaft as far back as it would go and exposing the engorged bulbous head of my cock. I licked the tip of my finger and made wet circles around the eyehole then licked it again as it gave me a gift, a globule of sparkling precum. I can't explain why, but I felt delighted at being watched and in the knowledge that he too was as excited. I pumped hard my shaft and felt the orgasm approach then stopped and said quietly, you can come in here and watch if you like. He almost fell from his perch on the toilet's seat as I unlatched the door and shifted my legs to make space for him. He clattered into the stall and I shushed him to make less noise. He clicked the latch and turned and his cock was out and hard and thicker and longer than usual. I loosened his belt and dropped his trousers to his ankles, reached out and stroked his shaft. It was wooden hard. He unbuttoned his shirt as I had done for his enjoyment and began to skilfully beat me off and my knees buckled. I felt my urethra filling and I whispered that I was going to cum and he dropped to his knees, seized my cock with his open mouth and deep throated me. I'd never experienced anything like it and with thrusting hips jetted into his mouth. He finished me with gentle sucks and when he sensed I was done he milked me then stood and looked into my eyes. He opened his mouth to show me the white sticky liquid that filled it,..closed his mouth and swallowed it all and then told me that he loved the taste of spunk.

He wanked off in front of me and dribbled a little clear liquid that showed me what I already knew, that he was in the early and most lust full stage of puberty when an almost permanent semi erection and frequent spontaneous partial orgasms ruled the day, less than a year earlier, I had been the same, unsatisfactorily beating off almost everywhere and anywhere and never achieving a complete and fulfilling orgasm. I recalled the day and the moment that I made my first milky ejaculation, and the thrill of the feeling of spouting wads of warm cum over my bare belly. I wanted to console him and tell him that soon he'd be squirting spunk. He said that his elder brother had told him to get lots of cum from guys as it made him shoot a good load a lot sooner. He sucked his big brother's cock every night in their bedroom and swallowed every last drop and then wanked off to see if it had worked. I found his story exciting and him a little gullible and quite soon, the both of us became welcome guests in the upper sixth toilet, care of the sports captains and both of us, at the age of sixteen, were happy to have their jets of warm spunk deposited in our mouths, if only for different reasons. I don't know if I'd been misinformed, but as our relationship evolved, and later in the upper sixth form, he began to ejaculate massive amounts of cum. He told everyone in the senior's common room that it was all due to the cum he'd imbibed earlier, so maybe swallowing spunk does increase your output... who knows.