Private Education

By Jack Brighton

Archie and Colin own a courier business, and Jack works for them as a driver. You would think they'd see enough of each other, but these friends from school socialise as well. On top of that, Archie and Jack have taken up woodwork and are building a boat in their spare time, or so they would have the world believe. But these two men have a secret that someone has discovered...
Archie and Jack were busy in their workshop on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of June, when Colin's son Harry called round unannounced. He's a keen tennis player, and had some great news he wanted to share with Archie, who coached him until recently. A locked front entrance wasn't going to prevent him getting in. He used a gap in Jack's fence to get into the backyard where the workshop was located. There was loud drilling going on, so the men inside the workshop didn't hear the lad approach. Appreciating this - Harry took a decision that would change all their lives. He used the spyhole he'd discovered as a kid!
All he wanted was to see a smile on his former coach's face. Archie used to have plenty for him, but the smiles had dried up a couple of years earlier, and a distance had been created for some reason. It was a poor excuse for spying on people. Harry was eighteen years old and should have known better, but he so desperately wanted to see Archie smile.
And he did!
Harry saw Archie smile and he saw him do a lot more. He saw him do things to Jack that didn't seem proper between such butch hunk men who were supposedly straight, although Jack certainly wasn't complaining - he was egging Archie on. It was scandalous stuff, yet Harry wasn't appalled. Quite the opposite in fact. He was hideously turned on by what he saw.
So there we have it. The secret is out, but not very far, as only Harry is aware of it. But what will be the consequences of his underhand discovery?
It's a tricky path that lies ahead, and Harry will have to tread carefully. But with the help of Jack, he'll manage to get there. He'll learn the reason why Archie created that distance, and he'll work out the best way to bridge it. Harry might have left school and is on holiday for the summer, but this smart young man will still be learning a few thing that will stand him in good stead when he goes to college, thanks to some... Private Education.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Firm Hand Books
• Release date: Jan 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311632258

Jack Brighton

Jack Brighton is a British author who specialises in M/M erotica - most of which, but by no means all, falls into the category of BDSM - a way of life that he has rich experience of. There are romantic overtones in some of his work, but you tend to get what it says on the label. All the books fall under the banner 'Flaming Hot Gay BDSM' or 'Flaming Hot Gay Erotica', so don't expect anything else. But do expect them to be flaming hot, with plenty of storyline and character development. A dry sense of humour also features, and a very vivid imagination. He is best known for his 'Tales from The Wild Side' series, where that imagination runs riot.Jack was brought up in a mining community in the west of Scotland, took his degree at Stirling, did a year's post- graduate in Edinburgh, then moved south to London, where he taught for a few years before moving into the finance sector, based in The City. Many of his stories draw on this background - as a gay man trying to find himself in what was more often than not a hostile environment.Having given up the rat race, Jack became a full time writer in 2010. He now lives in Brighton with his long term partner.Jack has also written mainstream fiction under the pen name J. K. Brighton.

Book preview

Private Education

By Jack Brighton

Copyright Fergie Boy aka Jack Brighton, 2015

Published by Firm Hand Books at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store the material where it cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. As a piece of erotic fantasy where licence can be taken, certain scenes involve unprotected sex. This has been done to enhance the story.

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot Erotica Collection

Erotica Extract –Rugger Buggers

Jack Brighton’s Flaming Hot BDSM Collection

BDSM Series Extract –His Nemesis

BDSM Book Extract –Shoot!

About the Author

Author’s Note

Private Education was originally released under the name of Fergie Boy – a pen name which I used initially when writing specifically for Gay Boy Books. The relationship ended quite some time ago, but the name was taken forward. As many of the early ‘Fergie Boy’ books have been reworked, and new editions released, it felt like the right time to bring them under the Jack Brighton umbrella.

Please note that Private Education would be classed a gay erotica, with a small amount of BDSM content.

Chapter 1

You’re looking very pleased with yourself, Harry.

I am, I tell my mum as I enter the kitchen where she’s doing a poor job of icing an oddly-shaped cake. I beat Mr Henderson at tennis for the first time.

Mum scrunches up her chubby features as she returns her eyes to the homemade catastrophe before her. It doesn’t look very appetising, but then her baking efforts rarely do. Doesn’t stop her eating them, though. She’s very fond of cakes and all things sweet, and as a result is way overweight. So you did it at last, she states. No wonder you’re feeling chuffed with yourself. And what about Mr Henderson? Is he a happy bunny, or did he storm off in a huff?

He took it quite well, I inform her, trying not to sound overly smug about this monumental achievement. Better than he would have done a couple of weeks ago.

Deep in concentration as she tries to disguise the mess she’s baked with extra icing, Mum grunts acceptance of this, knowing what I mean. Up until a fortnight ago when I officially left school, Mr Henderson was my Biology teacher. He’s probably the main reason why I took the subject, being a bit of a dish, big and hunky and sexy as sin - although sadly very straight, with a wife, two young kids, and a third one on the way. As well as being a dab hand at procreation, he’s also a very good tennis player, but having moved to our small rural community in the west of Scotland, he doesn’t have much in the way of competition – other than me, that is. I think he found it a bit awkward playing one of his pupils, but if he wanted a decent game without having to travel too far, then he didn’t have much choice.

So did Archie make an appearance? Mum absently asks as I toss my kitbag on the floor and go to the fridge in search of something to make a sandwich with. It’s hungry work winning at tennis, and I’m still a growing lad at the tender age of eighteen. Filling out as people say, and doing so pretty well, standing at a fraction over six foot two tall, and weighing in at one hundred and eighty lean pounds.

No. He’s got better things to be doing on a Saturday morning nowadays, I casually answer, playing down my annoyance over this blight on my morning.

Archie, or Mr Maxwell as I’ve always called him, and still do out of respect, was the man who taught me to play tennis, and was a sort of coach for a while, and my regular opponent until a couple of years ago when thankfully Mr Henderson came along as a replacement. I’ve known him all my life as he’s one of Dad’s best friends. They went to school together and became business partners, providing a courier service in the local area. Mr Maxwell and his wife Margaret have a daughter who is the same age as my younger sister, and those two girls are as thick as thieves, so we tend to see quite a lot of that family. But I rarely see Mr Maxwell on his own anymore. As I said, he stopped the tennis involvement a couple of years ago, and has become very aloof for some reason. He’s taken up carpentry as a hobby, and is building a fishing boat with Jack McGregor, who’s one of the courier drivers, and another very close family friend. He doesn’t like anybody to call him Mr McGregor, so out of respect for this affable guy I refer to him as Jack.

Anyway, back to Mr Maxwell who I’m annoyed with at present.

It’s such a shame that my relationship with him has changed. I know he’s got this reputation for being a right miserable sod, but he never acted that way with me – at least not until I hit sixteen that is. He might not have been a laugh a minute, which Jack can be when he’s on good form, but I really liked him, and thought he was the best coach I could possibly have. I really miss the camaraderie we used to share, although I’ve sort of come to terms with it. And as I’ll be leaving home in three months’ time, I suppose it’s good to have loosened some of the strings that could have tied me here in emotional bondage.

I’m a bit pissed off by it today, though. Could he not have made an exception to this adopted aloofness and come along to watch me play – witness my triumph and been there to celebrate it with me, perhaps even take me to the pub and buy me a drink now that I’ve reached the legal age. I almost got the better of Mr Henderson last Saturday, and I mentioned it to Mr Maxwell when he and his family were here on Sunday for a barbeque. I told him that I reckoned I’d win quite soon having got to grips with my topspin backhand at last.

Oh well. Best not to get upset and spoil my smug glee.

The sandwich made, I head off to my room to eat it, leaving Mum in peace to do what she can with the cake. It’s her turn this month to host the book club, and that’s what all the effort is for, as anything shop bought would be frowned upon by the members. I check my watch and realise that she’s pushing it a bit on the timing. A bunch of chattering women will be arriving within the hour, which means I need to make myself scarce, like Dad and my sister have already done.

So where should I go?

The answer to that comes easy on such a momentous day… I’ve already had a fair bit of exercise, but I think some more might be in order. Jack McGregor lives a couple of miles away, and it’s a lovely walk to his country cottage. I hate that bloody boat with a passion, but I think I should go and see how it’s coming along. I’ve got some good news that I want to tell Mr Maxwell, and I want the miserable sod to be proud of me, and with a bit of luck see a smile on his face. I’m conscious that it might be the last chance I get to make him smile and feel proud of me, given the other piece of news I’m keeping up my sleeve.

And what would that be I hear you ask?

Well I didn’t hear you ask actually – that was just a throwaway phrase. You already know what my secret is, having described Mr Henderson as a bit of a dish. I’m gay of course – bent as the proverbial fishhook, although sadly only in theory, as I haven’t even felt another man’s cock as yet, let alone had one inside me. But I know what I am, and have done for years. I’ve been wanking myself silly since the day my balls dropped, always thinking about men and big hard cocks, no desire whatsoever for the fairer sex whose genitalia I find totally repulsive. So I’d say that it’s more than just a phase. I’m totally gay, and soon the world will be made aware of this fact – my parents first of course.

Not yet, though!

It’s a confession I intend making at the end of the summer, probably the day before I relocate to Edinburgh. The last thing I want is to be stuck at home and have my life made a misery by the homophobes in the area. I’m sure Mum will be all right about it, but there are plenty of others who won’t be, and sadly my dad might be one. He’s a member of The Kirk, and has some unfortunate views on sexuality. There’s a very good chance he might disown me when he finds out I’m a poof.

But I have to tell him. He might be a bigot, but he’s still my dad, and it would be grossly unfair not break the news myself. When I go to Edinburgh I want to be open about my sexuality, which means tongues will wag about me taking it up the ass, and news travels fast in this day and age. There’s no way I want Dad to hear of it from someone else, or see it posted on Facebook or something daft like that, so I have to man up and tell him myself.

Chapter 2

I think I can take it for granted that Dad will go ballistic, but I wonder how Mr Maxwell will react when he hears about my sexuality.

Then again – I wonder if he’s already sussed me out.

I keep asking myself this as