Date: Wed, 22 Aug 2018 14:41:07 +0100 From: Vintage Speedoboy Subject: Schoolboy Lifeguard Schoolboy Lifeguard AKA The boy in the red bathing suit Forward This is entirely a work of fiction and all the named characters are fictitious and any relation to persons living or dead is purely unintentional. This story is set around the start of World War two and thereafter. The locations mentioned are real places and my heart goes out to those many people for telling me their wealth of memories from times past when they were still alive and to local historians for their knowledge. As a youth I read two erotic books, one of which the title escapes my memory and the second book was `The hand reared boy' by Brian Aldiss which was first published in 1970 and thankfully this book is still available at the time of writing. I thank Brian for creating this work which I have re-read and which is the inspiration for the story. The scout association for their published wealth of information, the BBC's children at war website together with other websites on the internet which fondle recall those times past. Please enjoy this story and don't forget to leave Nifty a few pounds,half crowns, florins, shillings, sixpences, three penny bits pennies, half pennies and farthings which was the British Currency in 1939 (Now there's the instant magic of Paypal so your wallets wont be losing any money) when this story starts as almost eighty years later the wonderful crew at Nifty do an amazing job at keeping this archive going and they also have a shop window with bargains not available in shopping malls or the High Street, if nothing else, do get one of their shoulder bags which are handy to take on board aeroplanes with your personal effects and that highly erotic book to read on board. Signed Vintagespeedoboy. I am 13 year old Tom Fullbrick, an only son living with my parents at Maidenhead's Garden cottages estate which are three blocks of run down slums. I'm a second year pupil at Saint Luke's secondary modern school and a second in the school's Boy Scout troop and work an evening newspaper round. That morning I stood at one end of the pool wearing my bright red silk bathing suit which I obtained the previous year after the swimming baths closed for the year having found them in amongst the discarded lost property in an outside bin. The square cut designed swim suit was almost new and unlike the older types of bathing suits the top only came up to my waist tied with a draw cord. The sun shone obliquely to our backs at the town's open air swimming pool on a bright sunny morning with five other boys from my form with three situated on each side of the entry steps awaiting the starting signal from Mr. Hardwick the P E and games master for the 50 yards freestyle swimming race brimming with confidence knowing that I will win this race which is just one event of the school's annual swimming gala. I looked up at a solitary dark cloud in the sky which had a menacing look about it making me think I was looking at a war cloud; perhaps I saw a bad omen. I had only learned to swim at the town's old baths at East Street three years previously at the age of ten taught by Mrs. Varral, my form teacher at the Saint Mary's catholic primary school situated next to my school. She was a skilful teacher who got the best out of her swimmers finding me to be a natural water baby totally amazing her at the speed which I learned to swim believing that she awoke a distant memory instilled in me at birth waiting for the right moment to be unleashed when I inexplicably powered through the water swimming an entire length of the pool with the skills of a competition swimmer in total disbelief at the sight of my achievement. Mr. Hardwick was just about to fire his starting pistol when everyone heard the whine of an approaching supercharged engine; boys looked all over the sky hoping to catch a glimpse as Mr. Hardwick hesitated to fire the pistol when a single engined fighter with its green and brown camouflage paintwork suddenly flew low rapidly overhead emitting an evocative thunderous roar from its 27 litre V12 Rolls Royce Merlin engine when the roar faded away. I saw this aircraft's distinctive elliptical wings uttering. "Coo blimey, a Spitfire." "All right boys, it's just an aeroplane, there's nothing to be concerned about, you six! take your mark," then held up the pistol and fired. All six boys dived into the water with me taking the lead following a perfect dive & put everything into sprinting front crawl including the use of a six beat leg kick winning the race by two seconds. I climbed out using the identical steps at the opposite end of the pool with my wet bright red silk swimsuit clinging to every portion of my skin glaringly showing off my large package bulge to whoever looked at me seeing that I was really well endowed for a boy of my age. It was just a few hours previously whilst I slept soundly during the small hours that I experienced a wet dream which I couldn't recall on waking up and yet I felt the wetness on my pyjamas and became bewildered thinking it's my blood. I knew mum suffered with the same issue every month having seen her blood stained pads in the dustbin and when I checked I found I must have shot a gallon of spunk into my pyjamas. Mum's a nurse at the local hospital and instead of receiving the huge telling off I feared she took me to one side and gave me a very detailed talk. I have been wanking my cock since primary school which she intuitively knew about anyway without ever asking me if I did it. I knew I had the largest cock in my form which other boys pointed loudly out to me in astonishment also making some of them jealous during P E and games lessons where it was also noticed by others that I sported a huge bulge in my cotton navy blue school P E shorts and having a surname like Fullbrick, it wasn't long before the rest of my form called me fullprick which very quickly went round the whole school. Just before we left the pool, Mr. Hardwick chose our best 8 swimmers for the lifesaving group to be taught by Mr. Badcock, the pool's superintendent during the remaining swimming periods for the Royal Life Saving Society's Bronze Medallion award. This is a prestigious award requiring boys who are strong swimmers entailing learning water safety, water rescue skills, resuscitation techniques, a demonstration of their fitness by completing a timed swimming and towing test wearing their P E shorts and vest culminating in assessing casualties in danger ending with a question and answer session. All of our boys were aware that this award is valid for the rest of our lives which is the qualification of lifeguards and we will soon receive a cased penny sized medallion with each boy's name engraved on the back with the year the test was taken. Mr. Hardwick gave us a brief lecture outlining the test and finally gave each one of us a paperback sized copy of the lifesaving manual to read and study after we got dressed. After exiting the pool, we all took cold showers without any exceptions as there was no hot water at this facility and with time being of the essence our showers were very quick indeed when we dried off and queued up to collect the baskets containing our clothes just as another local school was entering the foyer. Having collected our clothes two boys were each detailed to share a cubicle. I was paired with Derek Masterson, a boy who sat next to me in class; we attended the same primary school together, lived close to each other and are also the best of pals to the point of being inseparable. We also attended the school's scout troop together although we're both seconds in different patrols. The whole troop's minds were on our impending troop's summer camp at Gilwell Park, located deep in Epping Forest yet minutes away from Chingford railway station. It was the physical changes taking place in the other boys and I with some of us more advanced in puberty than others which in my case was remarkably so having already commenced my growth spurt with hair under my armpits and around my genitals. My breasts are now sporting large pointed breast buds with prominently large thimble sized nipples looking very girly and my voice is now in the first stages of breaking which in both mine and Derek's cases, it seemed as though our very characters are also changing with an awareness of sex coming to fruition cursed by frequently spontaneous erections which everyone called boners. No sooner had Derek closed the cubicle door he pulled the waistband of his bathing suit forward revealing his slightly smaller erection to me who was also erect along with my larger protruding nipples when Derek grasped my erect throbbing leaking 8 inches of fat man sized teenage cock through the material of my bathing suit having now formed a huge bulge. I gave a shush gesture with my hand them dropped my wet bathing suit onto the wooden footboard when my friend resumed his grasp and wanked my huge cock for several strokes when suddenly several jets of spunk squirted out from my cock hitting the door with the remainder dripping onto the footboard. Meanwhile every boy was in a hurry to get changed with myself having to clean off my spunk off the door with my cum rag of a towel as no sooner had we finished changing, two more boys from another school would be using that same cubicle to change and in our hurry to leave, I forgot to clean the footboard and some poor kid's going to tread on my spunk. We marched back to the school neatly lined up in our pairs during which my deflating cock leaked the remainder of my spunk into my underpants on our way to our last period of the morning before lunch in the school's hall. This last period was religious education; it was also when all the catholic boys became separated from our form leaving the line by the local Saint Joseph's Catholic Church for our period taught by one of the priests in the church hall. After eating our lunch, some of us went into the town and in my case I entered W H Smith & Son going straight to the magazine racks to steal the latest copy of `The Motor Cycle' for the latest Isle of Man TT results reading about German Giorg Meier's win in the 500cc Senior TT race on a supercharged BMW. Unbeknown to me, this was the last year which supercharged motorcycles would race. I met Derek in the local park & walked to a nearby football pavilion, a wooden building with seating bleachers with a side door leading to the changing area underneath the bleachers. I possessed an old skeleton key which I found at the nearby Garden cottages (a Victorian slum estate) one day at the roadside which fits the door; I unlocked the door whilst my friend kept watch and once inside I locked the door. We embraced each other with my friend planting a passionate kiss on my lips & both of our cocks were hard inside our underpants with lust coursing through both our bodies. I also felt my cock twitch inside my underpants as a jet of pre-cum shot out of my piss slit wetting my underpants when we removed our blazers, dropped both our trousers and underpants around our ankles and grasped each others hard cocks. Derek came first firing off several jets of spunk about a couple of feet and finally dripping onto the floor followed a few moments later by my spunk hosing out at least a dozen huge jets across the roomlanding on the floor a few yards away. We rapidly got dressed, left the pavilion and walked to school whilst my now deflated cock leaked the remainder of my spunk into my underpants adding to the large previous stains already there, this is how mum knew I keep masturbating as she's the one who washes my clothes. I work a late afternoon/evening newspaper round delivering both the Evening News and Standard which arrived in large bundles by train. The first boys to arrive are detailed to meet the train and carry the bundles to the depot situated behind a wooden fence beside a footpath next to the railway station. This normally entailed the boys tossing the bundles over the fence to land on a wooden platform, clamber over the fence where waiting boys would carry the bundles into a large brick shed to be quickly opened and fed into an old Bush stop press printing machine with an older boy stood by counting each one off and quickly removing a quire of 26 copies at a time onto a large counter where the boss quickly makes up the orders and dispatches the waiting boys riding their bicycles rapidly to their detailed newsagents around the town before returning to collect their allocated quota for their paper rounds. One could spot a newsboy on his bike simply because we mounted our luggage carriers onto the front of our bikes to support the heavy weight of the canvas newspaper bag and we rode in all weathers. The well seasoned older boys all had ex army groundsheet capes from the last war to keep the weather off them; these capes are also very popular with scouts who used them for groundsheets whenever they went camping and two could be strung together along the side to form a flat shelter which two boys could sleep under which required strong garden twine to string them between trees in the woods. Mum's making me save as much as possible from my paper round money whilst dad's talked to the boss whereby an arrangement has been made for another boy to cover my round on Saturdays whilst I wait at the clock tower for the Evening news van to arrive just after six pm waiting for the classified results news editions. My bike is parked inside the depot's building over the weekend as I use their trades' bike to ride the heavily laden bike with its large carrier frame carrying well over 150 newspapers to the large holiday caravan park at Hurley selling every one of them. I am now the top earning newspaper boy there as dad's had a very serious talk with me. Because I'm their only son, if war does break out, they are also saving up to send me to my uncle and aunt who live in Australia. Our scout troop owns their own trek cart which was made by both the metalwork and woodwork teachers from plans which came out a few years ago which had to be sent away for. The trek cart is painted in army green paint with the troop's number and name sign written on the side boards. The troop saved money owing to the school supplying all the wood but they bought the artillery wheels and one of the boy's father who's an engineer made the axle from a length of scrap steel whereas other troops had saved up and bought their carts. We spent the next few meetings training to strip it down and pass it over a pole erected between two A frames out in the playground to simulate crossing a locked gate, reassembling it and running it around the playground in preparation for the impending district's trek cart race just before school broke up for the summer holidays. Our scoutmaster timed us with a stop watch and told us our best time for dismantling the whole cart was five seconds. We gave it our all racing with our carts along a marked 50 yard straight line course and back at the local park in pairs with the winning cart making it through to the next round, we made it through to the finals only to be beaten by the Saint Georges troop by a whisker, both our teams were really whacked at the end of it and we shook hands with each other swearing that we'll beat then next year. On reflection it was good fun that day as we all knew each other from both our schools, the other school being situated at Gordon Road. We took our Bronze Medallion tests which I must say, for any boy to pass that one has to be a real feather in his cap; it is certainly a rite of passage to take and pass this test. Both the pool superintendent and Mr. Hardwick watched us very closely throughout the entire test which was examined by an old grey haired uniformed military officer from the last war who had the most piercing steely blue eyes and spoke with a posh accent. After writing our names and dates of birth down onto his form and our pleasant introductions over he certainly unsettled us by saying. "Boys, we will soon see what you're made of, shall we begin." Everyone knew that our school is certainly the roughest school in the town with boys coming from either council estates' like Cordwallis or Garden cottages. All the boys at our school were taught boxing by the headmaster giving us a good grounding to survive on the streets and I was the fastest runner in my form but nothing could prepare us for that military officer's thunder which cut right through to our bones. I pulled the rest of the boys together out of earshot just like Phil Jones my football captain does with our team saying. "Listen, we're Saint Luke's boys, some of us are in the scouts and we're all part of the British Empire, don't let what that old bastard said get to you, now come on, let's give them a real show and show them who we really are." Needless to say we all passed our tests with flying colours putting our school's name firmly on the map and changing that old bastard's demeanour when he congratulated us with handshakes. We watched another eight boys from the Gordon road school being led out for their Bronze medallion exams and I recognized 14 year old John Georgiou straight away; his family came from the Greek island of Crete who's a patrol leader in the Saint Josephs catholic troop who lives on the Garden cottages estate. His dad's a foreman at the Saint Martin jam factory who thankfully gets mum our supply of their chunky marmalade although she has to pay him, thankfully he can supply it lot cheaper than in the shops. Scout summer camp is the highlight of the troop's year but it was a right rigmarole getting there which wasn't helped by offloading our trek cart, dismantling it and then carrying it piece by piece with our kit up the stairs onto the platform leaving it dismantled and cramming everything into the guard's compartment. Worse was yet to come as we carried both our kit and the pieces of the cart through tube stations before the final train to Chingford, our troop's name that day was definitely mud for having our trek cart with us even though it was in pieces on the tube. When the train finally arrived we finally reassembled our trek cart thankful that no parts were lost, loaded it up and finally attached both ropes to the axle eye loops. Those boys with rucksacks wore them sharing that duty with those whose kitbags were in the cart whilst the scoutmaster led the way checking the route with an ordnance survey map and by the time we arrived we were whacked, faced with having to erect our tents. Our troop had a number of tan coloured ex American army two man pup tents bought from an army surplus shop in London, these tents are open at one end and it didn't take us long to work out that two tents could be erected open end to open end making a four man tent with a bell end at both ends which could be left open or shut at night. Despite being exhausted we had to sort out our camping area and start preparing and cooking our first meal, needless to say we all slept like dead men that night and not even the sound of aeroplanes woke us up. We woke the following morning for our morning washes and using the latrines in a ramshackle wood and corrugated iron building once again having to put up with cold water. All everyone wore was just our P E shorts, tee shirts and plimsolls which are every boy's mode of dress in camp. The only times we are in uniform are when we leave the camp site or church service at the open air church. There's a daily bread, milk and eggs service in the morning and the provender shop's open after lunch time, all our cooking's done over open fires contained in fire pits dug into the ground with steel grates over the top supporting our cooking utensils, this morning it's fried bread, bacon and eggs with corn flakes for breakfast watered down with tea and for those who want one, a slice of bread toasted beside the fire then buttered and spread with marmalade followed by washing up. It was the youngest boys aged 11 or 12 who moaned like hell accusing us of picking on them especially having to use boiling water and washing up liquid to clean the dixie lids and scrub the troop's dixie's with Brillo pads to clean off the carbon from the fire after washing the plates and cutlery in a dixie full of hot soapy water then airing our bedding, groundsheets and capes. Lunch and evening meals were the same even though we had free times where we wrote letters home or sent post cards but it wasn't long when our youngest boys were crying owing to homesickness but all we could do was comfort them. It was during the first day's free period when I sneaked off to the latrines and sat down taking a shit. Thankfully no one was around when my cock became rock hard, I had a good wank and shot off a huge load of spunk, this time I remained sat there until it deflated when I squeezed it wiping off all the remaining spunk so as not to soil my underpants, I lost count of the number of times I wanked in the latrines during camp as well as giving boys, some from other troops camped here their wanks and sucking them off. There are a few lakes a short distance away one of which has an island in the middle, it is this lake which is ideal for swimming and being a Bronze Medallion holder I shared lifeguard duties with Derek and Pete Moran, a 16 year old rover scout and acting troop leader who swims for the local swimming club stood on the bank holding a coiled rope. Pete spent the rest of his time teaching those boys who couldn't yet swim and by the end of camp three of those boys were able to swim out to the island. Pete is one of those who's a really good teacher and is greatly admired for his skills. It is he who took me skinnydipping in the lake one evening, we swam out to the island and just sat there waiting to dry before we crept out of sight into the bushes and had the most amazing sex together. His hands gave me the most wonderful caresses on my body and he sucked on my nipples like a baby which elicited a most wonderful feeling inside my balls, he sucked my cock which is larger than his, it beggars belief that mine's actually bigger than a 16 year old which was my first time I had someone's cock up my bottom albeit he lubricated both his cock and my shit hole with Vaseline from a small tin which he brought with him. He took the greatest of care to avoid hurting me allowing me time to get used to that thing inside me which felt like shitting a log before he began slowly plowing into me which at the same time he also excited some secret inner part, it was this which excited another load of spunk squirting out of my cock in powerful jets by the gallon when I felt the warm sensations inside me as his hot spunk flooded my insides. After that I had to squat down and shit out the load he deposited inside me which blasted back out with a hugely loud fart which could be heard all over the island before we embraced and kissed as lovers then he swore me to secrecy never ever to tell anyone. The next time Pete and I went skinnydipping in the lake and swam out to the island, drying off is when he sucked me off good and proper to the extent that I suffered if that's the correct word a tremendously intense crashing orgasm, the sensations on my cock were so intense I was kicking and screaming so loud he had to hold his hand over my mouth just to silence me otherwise my screams would be heard by the rest of the troop whilst my spunk gushed into his mouth and what surprised me is that he swallowed every drop of it. I ended up experiencing a highly restful state and didn't want to leave the island as we both blissfully lay there until it started raining when we swam powerfully to the mainland, quickly got dressed and sheltered under a tree. After a week of hikes, wide games, swimming, boating on the lake, scout tests, playing rounders, cricket and having a kick about with a football we returned to our lives with wonderful memories of camp to last a lifetime which I would realize later on is my last ever visit to this historic campsite which was the site of the 1920 world scout jamboree looking forward to next year. End of chapter one.