St. Gilbert's Sports Academy Pt. 12

St. Gilbert's is a scholarship Sports Academy for young men 18-22years from deprived backgrounds around the UK, providing excellence in coaching and tutorship in both Team Sports and Athletics, with the special goal of creating professional Sportsmen of all our graduates.

Established: 1908

Principal: R. Stevens

Part 12. Coach Ben Parker's entry in the St. Gilbert's Chronicle, made 26th June 2022. Each summer, one member of the St. Gilbert's Coaching Team is invited to contribute a personal appraisal of the school year for posterity.

The School year 2021-2022 was always going down in St. G's history as the best since records began. From teaching sack-tap class to overseeing chastity cage fraternities, the lads have never had it better at the UK's sexiest Boys' School. Together we've made this a place where the Bully Boy rules supreme, not disparaged and curtailed with false virtue, but fittingly praised for his cocksure arrogance. We love Winners, and want to see them stand tall in laurels with the vanquished bent under their stinky feet.

But our awesome team of Gym Coaches could never have achieved this alone. A paradigm shift must come from the ground up, and this new generation of pupils brought their A game, taking it over the finish line in style. Where else would you see the School field thronged with butt-naked fit lads, using their well-earned lunch break to sun their balls and flex their gains? Everyone of them champs to a man, their white briefs slung casually over their shoulders, as current fashion dictates.

Where did they get their radical outlook? Is it a profligate reaction to the austerity and boredom of covid lockdowns the year before? Or is it the hallmark of a Gen Z rejecting the stifling, hypocritical moral codes that went before? Whatever the cause, the brain rot and rampant narcissism of their time has only done them a world of good. These lads think with their dicks, and it has only stood to further improve our record in both BUCS leagues and national competitions. Proof, if proof were needed, that the right balance of sexual egotism and extreme discipline yields extraordinary results.

This year all remaining taboos, the barriers to full personal actualisation, were sensibly swept aside. Social codes that, outside our School gates, keep the ambitious young man in his place, depriving him of reaching his highest potential, have been done away with completely. Now nothing, no hesitation nor qualm, stands between a Coach and his student, a Prefect and his purview, or indeed between one lad and his mate. A new level of intimacy and, by extension, understanding, previously unavailable to the Teacher or Disciplinarian and his junior, has allowed for a revolution in tutelage and coaching at St. Gilbert's.

When a Coach really knows his pupil - the secrets of his body and the corners of his mind - cognisant of what sets him off, of what gets him going, then he can really see him fly. I made a taste of my cock the prize for 3rd year students James Allen and Jacob Knowles if they could best the School Tennis record for Men's singles before the end of term. All year I'd been showing them both special favour, dropping hints and winks, and pats on the arse. I knew what they wanted, and used it to inspire competition. Needless to say Jacob smashed the record pretty quick after that. James had to watch his opponent kiss the trophy, a lesson in failure that will push him harder next time around.

Equally, when a Prefect knows exactly how to torment his classmate, an enviable discipline ensues. Our Prefects make human urinals of their fag boys, a sight more beautiful and correct than anything my generation achieved at the same age they are now. It's a dominion I could only dream of when I was in training - truly precocious, enterprising, bold, and brassy as fuck.

But of the hundred stories I could tell, one special occasion surely stands out above the rest as a jewel in the crown. Thursday 2nd June 2022 saw our best Rugby Coach, Mr. Beefy Joel Roberts, marry his naughtiest pupil, 1st year student Kieron McKenzie, in an epic wedding day celebration that shook St. Gilbert's Sports Academy to its foundations.

Strictly speaking, this wasn't the School's first intergenerational couple to go steady. 1st year chav lad Tommy Southwick caught the eye of our OfS inspector David Bell on one of his routine visits. Apparently having worn a miniskirt on that occasion for the Gentleman's entertainment, Tommy made a lasting impression. Besotted, Mr. Bell (a heterosexual Man married with kids I might add) proceeded to forward costly gifts to the boy, including gold chain jewellery and a new iPhone. It won him Tommy's affections, and the lad's been turning sissy tricks for him almost every fortnight when the Gentleman can schedule an illicit getaway from his family and book a stay at the local in Mable village.

Nonetheless, the Joel and Kieron make a genuinely legendary couple. Lord knows I've had to listen to the torrid throb of their lovemaking through the ancient wood panel walls of the Tutors' wing. By chance, the day chosen for this most special event also happened to be the day of the Queen's Platinum Jubilee. So while the rest of the country was observing the Trooping of the Colour, with all the street parties and bunting such patriotism entails, we were celebrating our own jingoistic pageantry - dressed in our best, flying St. Gilbert's colours with pride.

The wedding was never going to be a traditional one, but the betrothed wanted their ceremony to take place in the gents by the atrium. An original venue to say the least. It meant that only the most select number of guests could be in attendance, and I'm honoured to have counted myself among them. Three other Tutors and a couple of Prefects were also present throughout, but the happy couple wanted to extend the chance of a passing glimpse to everyone by keeping the toilets open for business as usual, and a queue that went round the block quickly materialised. Lads of every rank and file maintained a continuous string of pissers, each peeking over their shoulder, relieving themselves as vows were exchanged. An unbroken relay of pretty tinkling sounds provided the perfect accompaniment, and the general stink was of course divine. Our prefects were soon needed to keep the queue moving in honest and orderly fashion, since once inside, lads were keen to stay.

There had been some speculation about what the bride and Groom were to wear. In the event, Kieron came dressed in his School uniform, shirt and tie, and of course his famous cheeky pink baseball cap. Joel rocked up in his Rugby kit. This could perhaps have been criticised for its mundanity or apparent lack of imagination, but in fact it was perfect, placing the taboo shamelessly front and centre.

On the vows themselves, Joel and Principal Ross Stevens had prepared between them the most hilarious alterations to the time honoured verse.

"Kieron Leroy McKenzie, do you take this Gym Coach to be your lawfully wedded Daddy? To obey him in all things, to please and pleasure him, and give unto him that ass as long as you both shall live?

"Joel Joshua Roberts, do you take this pupil to be your lawfully wedded boy? To keep him in a permanent state of detention? To chasten him, to spank him, discipline and baste him, as long as you both shall live?"

The lovebirds swore on it, exchanged golden rings, and Ross proclaimed them Husband and son, legally sealing the marriage contract with such powers extended by English Common Law to all University Deans (or equivalent) in officiating weddings. It was real. A Rugby Coach married his ward.

A reception party had been planned in the great hall, which is still large enough to contain every student should the occasion call for it. This was just such an occasion, and a huge wedding cake was stacked on a table in the middle. The newly made Kieron Roberts was first to go up on the stage (from which important announcements have been made, and diplomas awarded, since the School was established), and he walked on out to an uproarious standing ovation. In that moment of success he embodied every aspiration St. Gilbert's was built to inspire, and his classmates recognised it unreservedly. The boy blushed and, bashfully scratching the back of his head, could do little more than bask in his triumph.

Then Mr. Roberts came forward, and dealt the lad such a slap to the face that the whole auditorium fell silent. The two Prefects who had been present at the ceremony before (clearly having been briefed on this shocking turn of events ahead of time), assisted Joel in strapping the boy over an old leather-padded gym horse and tearing down his pants. Wheeling him thus restrained to the front of the stage, Joel proceeded to fuck his new bride bareback for the satisfaction of the whole School. Staring out at a live audience of all his mates and Bullies, their faces flush with astonishment and lust, Kieron moaned in submissive delight as his new Hubby packed his arse. A dribble of crystalline sex wee streaming from the lad's hidden crotch could be seen by anyone on the western side of the hall, inching its way down the flank of the leather cushion and betraying the full extent of Kieron's enjoyment in the ordeal.

Joel railed him like a bloody Bullock, smacking his arse for dramatic effect. Lads throughout the crowd were whipping out their dicks and wanking on them lustily. Some boys were even kissing, swept up in the romance of it all. The energy in the room was fucking primal. Still Joel pounded, and within a few minutes the deed was done, a climax breached with satisfactory groans and the comical squeak of the gym horse's wheels as it's breaks were tried by the final blows. Joel pulled out to wipe his brow, and the crowd erupted a second time. From my vantage point at the back of the stage, I could see Kieron's cute little balls dangling out over the back end of the cushion. Joel gave them a friendly spank before quitting the stage.

He left his ravaged bride on that gym horse the whole rest of the evening - on show at the elevated peak of his humiliation for all the School to admire, while he himself enjoyed the party, eating wedding cake and taking selfies with the guests. He drank whisky from a tumbler, and every student wanted their moment with him, to offer their congratulations and ask him about the future. He made it clear to everyone that after their weekend honeymoon, Kieron would be sent back into his dorm like all the others. No special privileges, that he has to complete his education even if he is married to his Rugby Coach. I heard him repeat many times over that the ring on Kieron's finger would be the only noticeable difference to the boy's daily routine, but we all know that his daily routine has included special attention for quite some time, and as the night drew to its close, Joel retrieved his prize and took the lad back to his quarters in the Tutor's wing.

The newly weds spent the following weekend in Brighton. Joel bought his boy ice creams and fairground rides, and took him to dinner and out to see drag shows. And they fucked in a suite in a seafront hotel, and Kieron came back with a new tattoo says 'Fag Life' in gothic script on his belly just above his pubes. That's life at St. Gilbert's Sports Academy in 2022 - The best place on Earth for ambitious lads to excel and soar, and take what they've learned with them into the wider world. I'd envy them if I wasn't the one smacking their buttocks.