Jack and Phoebe Ch. 01

Author's Note: This is the first part of the first part of a story based around the love and sex lives of students at an elite Sixth Form College somewhere in England.

The story, of which this is a part, contains a multitude of sexual acts, including, but not limited to: Incest, Non-Consent, Blackmail, Bisex, Anal, FDom, MDom, Lesbian, Group Sex, Pegging. If any of these are not to your taste I suggest not reading any further.

There are absolutely no characters under the age of 18. All sexual acts take place between adults over the age of 18 years.

Comments and constructive criticism welcome.

Enjoy!

Jack and Phoebe 1

The alarm clock made a telltale click approximately one second before the radio came on to wake you in the morning, a click which Jack Sullivan's brain had somehow picked up on and as a result he always seemed to be awake just as...

"Pip Pip Pip, Good morning, it is seven am on Monday the 18th of September, and you're listening to BBC Radio Four, the headlines today are."

Jack struck the off button with enough force to cause the little plastic box to register a complaint in the way that cheap plastic boxes tend to do and then he rolled over onto his back. He lay there for a moment, wide awake but warm and content, knowing that for the next few minutes nothing could spoil his day, a condition that would change the second his feet touched the floor beside his bed. He sighed, stretched his arms out above his head, and then rolled himself out of bed and, pausing only to grab his towel and dressing gown, headed for the bathroom and began his early morning routine. Fifteen minutes later, he returned to his room pulled a fresh white shirt, lovingly ironed by his mum, from his wardrobe, put it on along with the rest of his school uniform and bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen.

His mother, a well-proportioned woman in her mid-forties with blonde hair like Jack's, dressed in her favourite tatty, greying, terry cloth dressing gown was standing with her back to him drinking tea, staring out of the window and alternating between tutting and shaking her head.

"Those bloody squirrels have dug up every single one of my bulbs," she said through gritted teeth as she turned to face Jack.

"And good morning to you too, mum," Jack said with a smirk.

"Oh, good morning Love," she replied, "I'm just so annoyed. I was looking forward to seeing those bloom in the spring."

Jack's twin sister, Maggie, was sitting at the table eating some toast and drinking her tea.

"I'll help you replant the bulbs this weekend, Mum," Maggie said sympathetically.

"That's kind of you, dear, maybe we could go together to the garden centre and pick out the replacements on Friday after school." replied their mother.

Jack downed a glass of orange juice and grabbed a couple of slices of hot toast, slathered them with butter and an overly generous spread of Marmite and headed toward the front door, bag on shoulder, the tails of his navy blazer trailing in his wake.

"Have a good day Jack!" his mum shouted after him,"he always leaves in such a hurry."

"He's in love," replied Maggie with a cheeky grin and a fluttering of her long eyelashes.

Jack was lucky, he arrived at the bus stop just as a bus was opening its doors. He hopped on and found a seat, put in his headphones and zoned out for the fifteen minute journey. It was just past quarter to eight when he arrived at the gate of a nice detached house on a quiet street lined by similar houses with new, high-end cars on their drives. As he pushed on the gate the front door opened and an attractive, blonde girl, wearing the same school's uniform as Jack, stood in the doorway, smiling at him. She waved her hand in a quick beckoning fashion.

"Quick, come inside before Mrs Bouchet, the nosey bat, sees you!" she implored in a whisper.

Jack hurried through the door which the girl quietly shut behind him.

Without missing a beat, the girl launched herself at Jack, attacking his lips with hers like she was possessed. Her tongue pushed into his mouth as her hand traced a rapid path from his chest, down to his crotch and fumbled with the zip on his trousers.

"Jesus, Phebes!" Jack exclaimed, trying to keep his voice at the level of a whisper, "your family!"

"They've all left already," replied Phoebe Harrington, giving him a wink and licking her lips as she sank to her knees in front of him.

Jack felt her tug his zip down, reach into his boxers and extract his rapidly hardening member. He looked down just as Phoebe took the head into her soft, warm mouth, her tongue tracing circles and teasing the ridge. Jack let out a sigh, and grabbed hold of her ponytail as his head lolled back. Phoebe took more and more of him into her mouth, her tongue working hard on every part of him she could reach. She placed her hands on his butt, and pulled him closer, taking as much of him as she could, and then when she reached her limit, she started to pull back. One of her hands switched to his shaft and she moved it in opposition to her head.

"Oh fuck! I'm going to," he blurted out, "cum!"

Phoebe pushed her mouth down hard one last time before retreating and leaving just the head as Jack erupted. She kept her lips sealed to him as he bucked his hips and climbed up on his toes. When he finished, she let go of him and he took a few steps backwards, trousers and boxers round his ankles and sank down onto the carpeted stairs. He leaned back and tried to catch his breath.

"Oh, fuck! Every time you do it you seem to have learned a new trick!" he said.

"I try," she replied after making a show of swallowing, a big grin plastered across her face.

Jack stood up and began to sort out his clothes. Phoebe pushed past him and took his place on the stairs, leaning back and playing with her ponytail as she waited for his attention. Jack looked up, having fixed himself, his eyes met Phoebe's and then travelled down her body as she spread her legs. Her uniform skirt came down to just above her knees, and as her knees separated he could see further and further up her legs. He dropped to his knees before her, and pushed her legs the last little way and now he could see that she was not wearing any knickers. He pushed his head forward and his mouth made contact with her. She gasped and grabbed his head with both hands and pulled him further into her. His mouth opened and his tongue made circles on her, as her hips danced. Phoebe could not help herself, she mewled, gasped and sighed as Jack slid his tongue all over her, he briefly sucked his index finger and then pushed it into her. Gently, he moved the finger inside her as he kept up his ministrations with his tongue.

"Oh god! Oh Jack!" she exclaimed, throwing her head back against the stairs.

Jack felt her suddenly tighten around his finger, and then begin to pulse, drawing him further in. Her hips went wild, and he was treated to her sweetness. He kept his mouth attached to her and rode out her climax. When she came down, he gave her one final lick, which made her eyes roll back in her head, and he pushed her legs together as he stood up. Towering over his girlfriend as she recovered from her orgasm, her hips still rolling slightly and little twitches of her mouth as she smiled up at him, caused him to feel his trousers begin to tighten again.

"I love you," he said quietly, a smile on his face.

"I love you too, Jack," she replied.

"I wish we could ditch school today and spend the whole day here, I really wish we could, but we can't, the school will ring our parents if we aren't there soon," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"I know, but you need to give me a few minutes to tidy myself up a bit," she replied as she dashed upstairs and into the bathroom.

A short time later, Phoebe reappeared immaculately dressed and coiffured and she opened the front door and led Jack outside. Pulling the door shut, she stooped to turn the key in the deadlock and then placed her arm in Jacks and together they walked off towards the school, just around the corner.

St Xavier's Sixth Form Coeducational College was a Church of England school that catered to seventeen and eighteen year olds in their final two years before university. The school offered a vast range of A-levels, in pretty much any subject for which an examination board offered an exam. Admission to St X's, as the pupils referred to it, was competitive and less than one in five that applied after taking their GCSEs was accepted. The ethos was very much similar to a top independent school, but there were no fees at St X's, you got in solely on your merit, whether your family was the richest or on benefits, and there were generous bursaries to help the less fortunate pupils so that they did not miss out on the extra-curricular activities - the skiing trips, gallery and theatre trips and foreign exchanges - these were recognised as being almost as important as academics in producing the finest scholars ready for the top universities. The academic and behavioural demands were high, but the rewards for those that put the effort in were vast.

The college was organised into two schools; the lower school, where the seventeen year olds fresh from achieving their GCSEs and new to the school spent their first year; and the upper school, where pupils, now eighteen, spent their second year. There was very little contact between the schools as they were separated across two campuses, a relic of the formation of St X's in the 19th century when two smaller, single-sex schools merged. The campuses were an eclectic mix of modern, Georgian, Victorian and Edwardian buildings, with classrooms ranging from cutting edge to dusty abandoned Victorian classrooms still outfitted with tiered desks and blackboards. Some years ago there had been talk of merging the sites, but that would have meant cutting pupil numbers and the governors could never justify that.

The headmaster of St X's, Mr Henry, was a mysterious figure who was barely ever seen; being called to his study was almost unheard of, and the few times it did happen it was followed by the pupil being frogmarched off school premises never to be seen again. The day-to-day running of the Upper School was handled by Mr Henry's deputies, Ms Hargreaves, a stern, serious woman in her forties who brooked no fools, and Mr James, a jovial and friendly man who spent time in the playground at break times and ate lunch every day with the pupils, he knew everyone's name and what was happening in their lives.

The uniforms for the Upper and Lower schools were the same white shirts or blouses, navy blue blazers with the school's crest on the breast pocket, blue trousers or knee length pleated skirt, white knee socks or grey tights for the girls, grey socks for the boys and a navy blue v-neck jumper for the boys and cardigan for the girls in winter. The only difference between the Upper and Lower Schools' uniforms were the ties. The Lower School had a navy blue tie with light blue, grey and gold stripes and the Upper school had a grey tie with light blue, navy blue and gold stripes in the same pattern, it was therefore easy to identify which school a pupil belonged to.

Jack and Phoebe arrived at St X's gates arm in arm.

"Have a nice morning, Phebes," he said quietly.

"You too, I'll see you at lunch." she replied pulling away and making a bee-line for her friends.

Jack smiled to himself as he headed for his friends who had assembled themselves by the fence across the other side of the playground.

"Morning Jack," a lanky boy with a shock of red hair called out, "have a fun journey this morning?"

"Shut up, Mike" replied Jack, slightly embarrassed.

"Well I saw you creeping into Phebes' place this morning as I was cycling past," said the red head trying to get a rise out of Jack.

"I needed the loo, if you must know," offered Jack, defensively.

"Oh I believe you mate, the jury won't but I do!" laughed Mike.

Jack had had enough and thumped Mike on the shoulder, giving the red haired boy a dead arm, but failing to stop the chuckles.

"Lady Phoebe's residence is renown in all the land for its fine toileting amenities, donch' ya' know," said the other boy, shorter and slightly heavier than Jack in an accent that could only have been described as Dick van Dykian..

"Don't you start too, Dan," pleaded Jack, his face now approaching crimson, "unless you want Mike to see the photo?"

The threat seemed to do the trick, and Dan's face quickly overtook Jack's in the crimson stakes.

"What photo?" asked Mike.

"Err, Jack has a photo of me in a dress and wig," offered Dan quickly "years ago before we came here."

Mike's eyes became slits as he stared at Dan and tried to determine whether Dan was telling the truth. Dan putting on a dress and wig and arsing about did sound like something he would do, so Mike let it go.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to see you in a dress, Dan," said Mike.

"How dare you sir, I make a pretty, pretty lady," replied Dan this time in a more high pitched version of his Dick van Dykian accent, his relief that his ruse was successful was audible.

Jack turned just in time to see Maggie walk through the gates with a group of her friends, but she did not seem to see him. He watched her walk towards where Phoebe and her friends were, exchange some words and then the two groups split again. He watched Maggie and her friends walk into the classblock where the form rooms were, and then he turned to see what Phoebe and her friends were doing. He was just in time to see Phoebe slap another girl across the face; unfortunately he could not see who it was as she had her back to him, but he watched as she brought her hand up to her face and then ran towards the classblock. Phoebe stood crimson faced, but then he lost sight of her as her friends crowded round in obvious support.

"Jesus!" Mike exclaimed behind Jack's back, "that must have hurt!"

"I bet," added Dan, "I wonder what it was all about, go over and find out Jack."

Just as Jack was steeling himself for the walk over, the bell rang and there was a slight crush as the two hundred or so Upper School pupils made their way into the classblock for registration. Phoebe and her friends melted into the crowd and Jack lost sight of her.

The classroom was dusty and obviously had not been used for years. The desks were tiered like an auditorium so that each one had a clear view of the blackboard, which still seemed to have a list of Latin declensions written on it. Tom Chaplin looked around and spotted the edge of some fabric that did not fit with the rest of the decor, and upon investigating found himself staring down at a lithe, brunette, Jasmine O'Connor, kneeling on a blanket.

"You found me then," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, what's this about?" asked Tom, puzzled by the note he had found in his locker.

"Well, I thought we could have some fun before school, we have 20 minutes before they close registration." she said, reaching out and running her hand down the front of his trousers, pausing briefly to feel him as he became aroused, confirming his consent.

"I suppose there's a bit of time, but I thought you were going out with that guy from St Augustus' across town?" he enquired.

"Nah, I chucked him ages ago," she replied, "we going to do this or what?"

Tom bent down and kissed her, his tongue meeting hers in her mouth as his hand explored the front of her blouse. Her hand started to rub his hardness, causing him to moan and sink to his knees too. She reached across and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, forcing them and his pants down to his knees. His hard cock sprung up and stood out in front of him, she grasped it and gave it a few strokes. She stood up and walked round him, pushing him until he was laying back on the blanket, his cock standing straight up in the air, trousers and pants around his ankles knees spread as far as they could.

"Wank it for me, Tom," she whispered, "show me what you like."

He did not need to be told twice and he grasped himself in his right hand and began to stroke, spreading the copious amounts of pre-ejaculate over the head of his uncut dick.

"That's it," she hissed, "oh, fuck I'm so wet for you."

Suddenly there was a click and flash, and then another, and another. Tom did not know what was happening, he craned his neck, to look around the room, cock still firmly in his hand. His blood ran ice cold, and his dick wilted as his confusion turned to realisation. Tom and Jasmine had not been alone in the room. Aria Gardener, a pale skinned redhead, walked up to Tom, standing over his head, her iPhone pointed down at his sprawled semi-naked on the blanket. An evil grin spread across her face.

"Ooh, has little Tom got all scared?" she asked cruelly.

Click flash. Click flash.

Tom could not think, he scrambled to pull up his trousers and stand at the same time, which caused him to fall and become entangled face down on all fours, naked backside pointed at Jasmine. She planted her foot on his butt and gave it a hard push, sending Tom sprawling at Aria's feet. He looked up, tears in his eyes, as she met his eyes and smiled, coldly.

"My house, four oclock this afternoon. You don't turn up, these photos go up on as many gay porn sites as I can get them on and copies go to your parents, the school office and your parents' employers. Kiss my feet if you understand," Aria stated, calmly, but with an underlying malice that terrified Tom.

Tom, realising that he had no choice but to comply, leaned forward and kissed her shoes.

"Good boy, I think you'll find it is much more pleasant if you're obedient," she said looking down at him, that cold, cruel smile returning to her face.

"That bitch Phoebe, is going to fucking pay for what she did this morning," she whispered to Jasmine, "and this little turd is going to help us."

Jack turned around to look at the empty seat beside Mike, pointed at the chair and raised an eyebrow. Mike had just shrugged as the door to the form room burst open and a flustered and dishevelled Tom walked in, banging his way through the class, knocking water bottles off desks and almost tripping en route to his chair.

"You're late, Mr Chaplin!" said Mr Smythe, 13D's form tutor, without looking up from his register.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, sir, I missed the bus,won't happen again, sir," replied Tom, clearly upset.

Jack, Mike and Dan looked at each other bemused as to why their usually calm and confident friend had turned into a simpering idiot. He sat down hard and attempted to sink as far as he could in the seat.

Phoebe's mood had shifted, from white-hot rage to worry, she was sitting in silence, next to her best friend Stephanie, trying her best not to breakdown into tears. If there was one thing she was certain about was that violence in school was taken extremely seriously, and she half-expected a prefect to arrive with a note calling her to the headmaster's office and everything that that entailed. Stephanie had her hand on Phoebe's thigh, gently but inconspicuously stroking it to try and soothe her friend, or at least that is what she intended when she started, but she was starting to feel that familiar tingling in between her legs as she explored her best friend's inner thigh. Suddenly, Sally turned round, forcing Stephanie to rapidly retract her hand and to feel a warmth spread across her face as she imagined that she had been caught.

"You okay, Pheebs?" Sally whispered, completely oblivious to what Stephanie had been doing.

"She's convinced she's going to be expelled," replied Stephanie, relieved that she was not the topic of conversation.

"She had that slap fucking coming," said Sally, slightly too loudly causing some heads to turn.

"She did, didn't she," whispered Phoebe, allowing herself to smile slightly, "totally worth it."