Date: Sun, 05 Feb 2017 10:27:41 +0000 From: puermalo14@hushmail.com Subject: wagtails and spartans 1 WAGTAILS AND SPARTANS The impetus for this story was the series of children's books by Arthur Ransome written in the 1930s which began with `Swallows and Amazons'. If you don't know these tales, suffice it to say that they concern various groups of children enjoying carefree adventures in a bygone age. In my version, the main characters will of course all be boys. You will read of their adventures but, be warned, they are certainly not the `innocents' of Ransome's tales! If you should not be reading this sort of material, or if you are likely to be offended by any of the content, then go no further. So, without further ado, let's see what happens when `Swallows and Amazons' becomes... WAGTAILS AND SPARTANS PART 1: Introducing the Wagtails. There is a fairly lengthy introduction to this part of the story. I felt this was necessary to establish the characters and setting. I hope you don't skip through it until you find the more `interesting' part that comes towards the end! Characters: Mrs Walton Simon and Robin (her sons, aged 12 and 10) Joseph (Joe) and Timmy (cousins, aged 13 and 11) It was the summer of 1933 and the sunshine had arrived. Previous summers had been rather dull but this year promised some glorious weather in the Lake District. Readers unfamiliar with this region of England might wish to know that it is a particularly beautiful part of the north-west, famed for its rugged scenery, mountain fells and valleys nestling their lakes. It was the haunt of poets such as Wordsworth in days long past and, these days, is designated as a National Park. At the heart of the Lake District was the market town of Keswick and on this sunny morning at the start of July a steam train was chugging its way into the station. Then, brakes hissing, it drew to a halt with a judder. At one of the compartments' windows an excited-looking youngster was peering out. His name was Timmy. "We're here, Joe," he exclaimed, "We're finally here!" Timmy was a bright but rather thoughtful boy. His mother described him as imaginative but his teacher had labelled him a day-dreamer. He sometimes let his inventiveness lead him into the realm of fantasy but his good-nature and friendly manner always won through. He was eleven-years-old with cute freckles around his nose and a mop a mousey-coloured hair that defied brush and comb. He was about four feet six inches tall (138 cm). Despite the warm weather, he was wearing an overcoat over his nicely pressed white shirt and dark blue shorts. "Jolly good job too," replied his older brother, "I was beginning to think we'd never get here." Joseph, who was called Joe by everyone except his mother, was quite different. Level-headed and logical, the thirteen-year-old boy had recently passed his Common Entrance Exam with flying colours and would be starting at one of the country's finest Public Schools next term. This step forward seemed to symbolise the crossing from boy to adolescent. He was certainly into his growth spurt with a slender, even lanky, body that measured around 5'6" (168 cm). In practical terms, this meant that he was now, for the first time in his life, elevated to the giddy heights of long trousers. Gone were the knee-length shorts and now here he was, lounging on the train seat in grey flannels and striped blazer. It had been a long journey from London and even the novelty of being just the two brothers without adult supervision was beginning to wear thin. Joe reached up to grab their suitcases from the luggage rack then swung them down to the floor with a bump. "I say, lend a hand, Timmy," he said and the two boys were soon shuffling their way along the corridor. "I hope there'll be here to meet us," said Timmy. "Of course they will, silly!" Joe responded, "Mummy telephoned Aunt Aggie yesterday and told her which train we would be on, didn't she!" Waiting on the platform were Mrs Walton (Aunt Aggie) and her two sons. The boys were looking forward to seeing their cousins whom they hadn't met for some three years. Living so far apart, it was difficult for family reunions but this year the adults had finally decided that the four boys could enjoy one another's company for the summer holidays. What better place for fresh air and adventure than the Lake District and, now that Joe was thirteen, his parents agreed that he was responsible enough to keep an eye on Timmy on the journey. Joe and Timmy climbed from the train with their luggage. "There they are!" called out little Robin. He raced along the platform but was soon overtaken by his older brother, Simon. Robin, at nine-years-old, was the youngest of the four boys. He was an excitable bundle of fireworks, popular with everyone, and would try his best at anything he put his determined mind to. He stood at a fraction below four feet (120 cm) but, most striking of all, was his fair hair. It was so blond that it was almost white. He was wearing a pale blue top tucked into grey corduroy shorts. "Hello, Joe! Hello, Timmy!" Simon whooped as he ran up to his cousins. Simon was a typical twelve-year-old. He loved football and climbing trees, hunting for birds' eggs and building bonfires. He was resourceful and full of energy with a slender, toned frame that stood at 4'10" (148 cm). Like his brother, he was dressed in corduroy trousers and an open-necked, short-sleeved shirt (what we might describe as a polo shirt today). His brown hair was immaculately combed with a neat parting to one side. The four boys greeted one another until Mrs Walton stepped up. "Hello, boys," she smiled, "My goodness, how you've both grown! You look quite the young gentleman, Joseph." "It's Joe, mummy," said Simon, "You know he prefers to be called Joe and not Joseph." "Oh, I'm sorry, I'd quite forgotten. It's been so long since we've seen you boys." "That's quite alright, Aunt Aggie," said the ever-polite teenager, shaking her hand in greeting. Well, come along all of you," she continued, "Mr Taylor's waiting with the cart to take us home." Indeed he was. There, outside the station, was Mr Taylor looking as old as ever with his white beard and whiskers, sitting in the seat of a small cart harnessed to a chestnut mare. "Come along, boys, climb aboard," he growled, "It'll be time for tea when we get there." Mrs Walton sat beside the elderly farmhand and the four youngsters tumbled into the back of the cart with the suitcases. "We're off!" called Robin. "Summer hols here we come!" added Timmy, "Wheeeee!" The cart set off along the road and was soon out of the sleepy town and climbing uphill towards the Walton's cottage. ... "Now don't you lads be a-getting up to mischief," grumbled Mr Taylor as they all disembarked, "Especially you, young Simon." He knew the boy only too well and had suffered endless schoolboy pranks over the years. "I'll be as good as gold," Simon grinned, fluttering his eyelashes and trying to look angelic. "Thank you, Mr Taylor," said Mrs Walton, "I don't know how we'd manage without you some days." Mr Taylor flicked the reins and set off in the cart, muttering under his breath about how boys these days were `nowt but trouble' and such like. Mrs Walton led the four boys into the cosy cottage. "Show Timmy and Joseph...oops, I mean Joe...the bedrooms," she said. "Take the suitcases upstairs too, I can't have them cluttering the hallway. Tea will be ready in ten minutes so shake a leg!" Simon and Robin led their two cousins up the staircase, the older boys carrying the luggage. "Mummy was going to put you two together," said Simon, "and I was going to have to share a room with Timmy." "Yes, but we've persuaded her to let me go with Robin," said Timmy, "and you can go with Simon. After all, you're closer in age." "Yes, and I'd much rather share with Joe than with my pipsqueak brother!" "Pipsqueak yourself!" Timmy retorted and they all laughed. The two younger boys disappeared into their room and Simon led his cousin, Joe, into the other. It was rather small and cramped but homely nonetheless. "I'm afraid we'll have to sleep top-to-toe," said Simon, pointing to the only bed in the room, "unless you would rather sleep on the old camp-bed." "Top-to-toe will be fine," Joe said, "We'll be as snug as bugs together." "Won't we just!" thought Simon, looking forward to bedtime already. His wandering thoughts were interrupted by the two younger boys who burst in to announce tea was ready. Mrs Walton had prepared a real treat for the four boys. There were sandwiches and cakes and even a fruit jelly. They washed down the feast with home-made lemonade except for Joe who politely asked for a cup of tea. Lemonade was for babies, he thought, and tea seemed a more fitting drink for a young man. As they tucked in, they talked about how they might spend the next few weeks together. "We've got a surprise for you two!" Simon announced, once they had finished the meal and all helped to clear the table. "I think it can wait until tomorrow, dear," said Mrs Walton. "Oh, mummy, please!" Robin begged. "Very well, but just half-an-hour and then I would like you all home again." "Hurrah! Thanks mummy," Simon cheered, "Follow me, boys." They all charged out of the cottage and ran along the dirt track towards the lake. "Where are we going?" panted Joe. "You'll see soon enough," Simon replied. A few minutes later they were at the lakeside. There was a little boathouse nestled among the reeds and Simon led the others there. A small dinghy was moored inside. "Ta-da!" Simon fanfared, "What do you chaps think of her? She's a beauty, isn't she!" "Gosh!" said Joe, "She certainly is. Where did you get her?" "Daddy bought it for us before he had to go away. She was in a rather sorry state but Mr Taylor has fixed her up nicely and she sails like the wind." "She's called `Wagtail'," added little Robin, pointing out the fancy lettering on the boat's prow, "She used to belong to pirates!" "Pirates, indeed!" laughed Simon. "Well, Mr Taylor said she did and I believe him." "That means we'll all be like pirates when we sail her, doesn't it?" said Timmy. "Oh, yes, let's be a band of pirates!" Robin said, jumping up and down. "I suppose we can be," said Joe, momentarily slipping back to childish thoughts and running along with the younger boys' imaginations. "I know, let's call ourselves The Wagtails," said Timmy, "A ruthless crew of pirates." "We'll decide on the crew tomorrow," said Simon, "And then The Wagtails will make their maiden voyage." "Yippee!" chorused Timmy and Robin before they all headed back to the cottage. Later, after a warming cup of cocoa, the boys were given their marching orders and sent to bed. It was barely 8.30 pm and still light outside but we should remember that this was a bygone age, when children had strict bedtime rules! The boys brushed their teeth and had a cursory wash at the sink before bidding Mrs Walton goodnight and making their way upstairs. Timmy and Robin disappeared into their room and Simon and Joe went to theirs. Joe went to the window and spent a moment taking in the view. Through the trees he could see the edge of the lake and, in the distance, the heather-covered hills and valleys. It was such a change from his home in the London suburbs. He closed the floral curtains, casting a gloom about the room. "Come on, let's get ready for bed" said Simon, who was already undressing. Joe turned to see the youngster in his nakedness, which didn't seem to bother Simon at all. He was one of a few classmates who had sprouted hairs in recent months and he was proud to flaunt them. Jos was a little more apprehensive. Even at his prep school he'd always been bothered by being naked in front of others. He was going to have to get used to it, though, as when he started at his new school after the holidays he'd heard the showers were communal. He undressed down to his shorts cautiously. `Shorts' was something of a misnomer as they were a woven, high-waisted garment that stretched to his knees. A square, buttoned panel covered his privates. Their rather unflattering appearance didn't dissuade Simon from watching surreptitiously as his cousin stood there. "I'm going to sleep in these," Joe announced, trying to sound matter-of-fact rather than anxious about exposing himself fully. "That's fine, it's warm tonight," Simon replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his pyjama bottoms. The bed had been arranged with the ends folded down so they could share it by lying at opposite ends. Simon jumped into his end and Joe into his. There wasn't a great deal of room but the novelty made up for it and they both giggled as they shuffled beneath the sheets and blanket. "We've both grown, haven't we?" Joe commented. "Well, we were both three years younger last time we shared a bed like this," answered Simon. "Yes, we had some fun last time didn't we." "Like the day we nearly got caught scrumping apples." "And we got tummy-aches because we ate too many." "And we swam in the lake." They had often paddled in the lake but Simon instantly thought back to one occasion when they had dared one another to strip off completely. "Yes, and then we played sword-fighting." "Sword-fighting?" "You must remember that, Joe. We used our willies!" Joe recalled the innocent sex game but didn't want to let on now that he'd enjoyed it. "That was years ago," he said, "We were just little kids then." There was a lull in the conversation as both boys lay back in the bed. The conversation had excited Simon somewhat and he slid a hand furtively down the inside of his pyjamas to feel his stiffening boycock. "Can I ask you something, Joe?" he asked. "Yes, of course you can." "You won't be cross, will you?" "No, I promise. Ask away." "Does your willy ever get a bonk on?" Joe was rather taken aback. He knew a `bonk on' was schoolboy slang for an erection but he'd never discussed such things with his friends. "If you must know, it isn't called a willy it's called a penis." "That doesn't answer my question, though." "Yes, Simon, my...err, willy...does get a bonk on sometimes." "Me too." There was another pause in the conversation until Simon continued. "Can I ask another question?" "If you must." "When it gets like that do you ever touch it?" "You shouldn't be asking such questions, it's improper," said Joe. "Maybe I'm just an improper sort of boy." "I think perhaps you are!" "Well?" "Well, what?" "You didn't answer my question. Do you ever touch it when it gets hard?" "Yes, sometimes," Joe finally admitted. "That's fine then," grinned Simon, "Because my willy's hard right now AND I'm touching it!" This sexual banter had also had its effect upon Joe because he was also as hard as iron down below in his shorts. It was an urge he couldn't explain. He'd had several `you-show-me-yours and I'll-show-you-mine' experiences over the years (including those with Simon) but this felt different. He wanted to see Simon's hardness and to touch it too. "Can I see?" he said. Simon threw back the sheets. He sat that, a wide grin on his face, with one hand down inside his pyjamas obviously toying with his erection. He drew the hand out, untied the waist cord and flipped his pyjamas open. A pretty, three-inch boycock bounced up. Joe sat upright and moved closer but it was still rather gloomy in the room and he wanted a proper inspection. "Pass me the torch, please," he said. Simon reached for the torch he always kept by the bedside. It was a rather clumsy flashlight but it was one of Simon's treasured possession and had been a present at his last birthday. He handed it to Joe who switched it on and directed the beam at Simon's groin. He moved closer to admire the boy's cock. It was smaller than his own (thank goodness, thought Joe!) and about the thickness of a thumb. It stood up at right angles making little bobbing motions to match the boy's heartbeat. There were a handful of wispy hairs decorating the base, so few that with a little patience Joe reckoned he could count each one. "Can I see yours now?" Simon asked, slyly, "It's only fair." Joe was now kneeling in front of Simon. He passed him the torch and began to unfasted the buttons on his shorts. Simon directed the beam, making an almost comical version of theatre curtains being opened. The buttons opened, Joe let the flap fall and his genitals were exposed within the little square opening of his shorts. He was not long into puberty but, being a year older than Simon, he was more developed. His cock, curved almost like a small banana, stood up at a full four inches. There was a neat tuft of pubic hair where cock met groin. Two firm balls dangled low in a crinkled, hairless scrotum. "You're big!" Simon enthused. "Not really," Joe replied, "There are some boys at my school with jumbo-sized ones!" "Can I touch it?" "Only if I can touch yours as well. Take off your pyjamas." They both stripped and Joe moved to sit alongside his younger cousin. They tentatively reached for one another. The feeling of a different hand than their own on their little poles was a delight. "Our swords have got a lot bigger, haven't they!" Joe chuckled, referring to their childish sex games of three years before. "I don't know about swords," giggled Simon, gripping Joe's curved shaft, "Yours is more like a cutlass!" "Cheeky blighter" Joe replied, but he didn't mind the teasing, after all he sported the bigger penis of the pair of them. "You've got real hair, too," Simon commented, flicking at the tuft of curly pubes, "Mine are more like fluff!" "It's my turn to ask you something, Simon." "What would you like to know, dear fellow." "I was wondering whether if you played with your willy long enough something wonderful happens?" "Do you mean the gooey stuff?" "Yes, I do," Joe grinned, "The chaps at school call it spunk, by the way." "Spunk? What a funny word...spunk...spunk!" "So, do you make spunk when you play with your willy?" "I think if you go on touching me like that you're going to find out the answer to that!" For a while, the two boys stopped the chatter so they could concentrate on their mutual masturbation. It was the best feeling and neither of the boys could hold back the inevitable conclusion much longer. "The spunk's nearly here," Joe muttered through gritted teeth. "Let me finish you off and then you can do it to me." Joe reduced his own actions to gentle fondling of Simon's stiff rod and his little balls, now pulled up tight in their sac. Simon quickened his manipulation of Joe, noticing how the foreskin was fully retracted – something he couldn't achieve himself yet. Joe let out a groan and his body stiffened. Dainty squirts of boycum shot onto his belly, much to the delight of Simon who had never seen so much of the milky fluid. Joe's orgasm subsided and he flopped back for a moment, regaining his composure. Then he turned to his younger cousin and, literally, took the task in hand, manipulating the little shaft with his finger-tips. "Mmmm!" Simon moaned, his eyes tightly closed. His legs shuddered and he thrust his hips upwards. Although it was not easy to make it out in the gloomy light, Joe noticed droplets of cum were oozing from the tip and dribbling onto his fingers. "Gosh, Simon," Joe exclaimed, "You really can make spunk, just like me!" They cleaned themselves with a hanky and Simon suggested he'd best hide it from his mother and wash it through the next day. "We'd best get some sleep now," said Joe, "Else we won't be ready for tomorrow's exploits!" They were soon fast asleep, dreaming of holidays and sailing, sunshine and adventures, and willies and the gooey stuff they made. ... Thanks for reading PART 1. There are hopefully plenty of adventures – of all kinds! – still to come. If you have enjoyed reading it (or any of the other stories on Nifty) please consider donating to keep the service free http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html I welcome comments and feedback and answer all emails. Feel free to contact me at puermalo14@hushmail.com.