Date: Mon, 13 Feb 2017 22:31:02 +0000
From: puermalo14@hushmail.com
Subject: Wagtails and Spartans Part 3

WAGTAILS AND SPARTANS

Here is the third instalment of my story, set in England in the 1930s. As
well as boyhood adventures, there is content that includes sexual activity
between several boys. If you should not be reading this sort of material,
or if you are likely to be offended by it, you are advised to proceed no
further.

PART 3: The Wagtails discover the island. Simon has fun with his younger
cousin. We learn a little more about their rivals, The Spartans.

Characters:
Mrs Walton
Simon and Robin (her sons, aged 12 and 10)
Joseph (Joe) and Timmy (their cousins, aged 13 and 11)
Nev (16) and Paddy (14), gypsy boys
Mr Taylor, an old farm-hand


"Are we going sailing today?" asked Robin, as the four boys tucked into one
of Mrs Walton's huge breakfasts.

"Of course, we are!" his brother, Simon, replied, "We have new waters to
chart and buried treasure to find."

"Three cheers for the Wagtails!" said Joe, and they all laughed.

"Maybe we should go a different way, I don't want to meet those nasty boys
again," said Timmy. He was recalling how they had had an encounter with the
Spartans, two rough gypsy boys, the previous morning.

"Which nasty boys were those?" Mrs Walton asked, pouring another cup of tea
and sitting with the boys.

"They were big boys. They called us busteds!" gushed little Robin, "Mummy,
what are busteds?"

Mrs Walton realised he meant `bastards' but wasn't about to correct
him. "Never you mind, dear," she said, "That's a bad word that only wicked
boys use...now, drink your milk, darling."

"Their boat was called `Spartan'," Simon said, "Hopefully, we won't be
seeing such uncouth boys again."


It was another gloriously sunny morning. As the boys made their way down to
the boathouse Simon and Joe discussed their plans.

"There's a small island a little way south on the lake," Simon explained,
"We'll sail there and explore."

"That sounds like a super idea," said Joe, "We can pretend there's buried
treasure or something. Timmy and Robin will love that game."

They set off as soon as `Wagtail' was ready, tacking close to shore in the
gentle breeze. They followed the curve of the lake, soon losing sight of
the Walton's cottage as they entered new waters. Simon had been this way
many times, of course, but he went along with the game they had invented.

"Land ahoy!" called Robin, pointing excitedly to a little island that was
about a mile away.

"An island!" Timmy exclaimed.

"An island with wild natives and buried treasure, I reckon," said Simon.

"Oh, do let's go there," Timmy pleaded, "It looks so exciting and I bet
we'll be the first people to have ever landed there!"

"Alter our course, first mate," Joe commanded, "Head for the island."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Simon replied with a wink to his cousin.

After a few more minutes sailing they reached their destination. A large,
rocky outcrop could be seen above the trees that seemed to fill most of the
little island.

"Look for somewhere to land," Joe commanded.

They followed the shoreline a little way before Robin pointed to a small
inlet.

"There, that would be a good place," he said, pointing, "The water's
shallow and we could moor the boat to those trees."

"Well spotted, cabin-boy!" Joe called out, "Steer a course, first mate."

It was easier to row the last part and Simon took the oars. There was a
gentle scrunch as the keel rode up against the shingle and came to a
stop. Robin, who had already taken his sandals and socks off, jumped into
the shallow water and secured the boat to a tree near the water's edge. The
other boys scrambled ashore.

"I declare this land the property of the Wagtails!" Joe announced.

"It needs a name," said Simon, "What shall we call our island?"

"Pirate Island!" Timmy suggested and they all agreed with a rousing cheer.


...


The morning had started very differently for Nev and Paddy, over at the
gypsy camp. They had come home the previous day only to be met by rather
irate parents demanding to know where they had been and why they had not
done the work they had been sent to do. They made the best excuses they
could manage but it didn't save Nev from a few wallops from his father's
belt. Paddy was a little luckier, getting away with a `no supper and
straight to bed' punishment.

They were both summoned by Nev's father early the next morning.

"Right, you pair of beggars," said the burly gypsy, "You've got a job to do
and if you don't finish it today you'll both get a bloody good hiding! Are
we clear?"

"Yes, Dad," Nev replied. His backside was still smarting from last
night. If that wasn't a `bloody good hiding' he didn't know what was!

They left the group of caravans and headed off up the steep hillside,
clutching a bag of tools. They were headed for some fences that needed
repair. It was straightforward work but would take most of the day, they
reckoned. The pay wasn't huge but piecework like this was an important part
of the gypsies' income. They realised that they would not be able to shirk
the task today and that meant no sailing.

"How's yer bum?" Paddy asked.

"How do you think it is?" Nev replied, "Me Dad gave me a fucking beating!"

"Sorry about that, Nev, I feel a bit guilty that I got away with it."

Nev pulled down the back of his trousers, showing his rump to his friend.

"There's some bloody big bruises there," Paddy said, using the opportunity
to look at his friend's firm, white buttocks.

"Yes, and they fucking hurt!" moaned Nev, pulling his trousers back up with
care.


...


Back on the island, the four younger boys were beginning their exploration.

"It would be best if we all kept together," Joe remarked.

"In case there are tigers or snakes?" Timmy puzzled.

"No, just so no-one gets lost, that's all," Joe said, "Besides, there won't
be any tigers or snakes, Timmy."

"What about pirates?" asked a wide-eyed Robin.

"We'll bash `em and thrash `em, of course!" joked Simon.

The youngsters set off into the woods with Joe leading the way. Robin and
Timmy found sticks that they used to slash at the dense undergrowth,
pretending they were swords, of course. After a little way, they reached
the outcrop of rocks at the centre of the island. They scrambled in a race
to reach the summit. From there, they were afforded a fine view of the
island from above the trees.

"This will make a great look-out point," suggested Simon, "You can see for
miles."

Returning to the foot they found a small clearing adjacent to some
overhanging rocks.

"My word, this would make a super place for a camp," said Joe.

"That would be really exciting," Timmy chattered, "Do you think we'd be
allowed?"

"I will ask mother when we get back," said Simon, "We have some tents and
even a little stove at home."

"Camping in the jungle! On Pirate Island!" gabbled Robin.


...


A few miles away, Nev and Paddy had climbed the fell and were now busily
mending the broken fence. The landowner had dumped a stack of new boards
and they were hammering these into place. Most of the boundaries in the
area were stone walls and fences were very much the exception. Not that
such considerations bothered the two teenagers. Nailing a few planks in
place was far easier than lifting stones and they were soon making good
progress.

"Shall we stop for dinner, now?" Paddy asked (It was typical for working
class lads to refer to the midday meal as dinner).

"Yes, we've deserved a rest," Nev replied, "Let me just finish this one."

They had brought with them some bread and chucks of cheese. An outcrop of
limestone rocks served as seating and the sat down to enjoy their
refreshments. While they were eating, Paddy's uncle arrived, bringing more
wood in a horse and cart. He was pleased to see their efforts of the
morning.

"Well done, lads!" he said, "Another hour and you'll have that
finished. Then home for bangers and mash!"

He had other tasks to complete, so he was soon off again whistling a cheery
tune.

"Hey, Paddy," Nev said. Paddy was lying on the grass enjoying the warm
sunshine. He'd taken his shirt off and was using it as a pillow.

"What?"

"As we've got plenty of time..."

"Let me guess," the younger boy interrupted, "As we've got plenty of time
how about I bugger you again?"

"You sound like you don't enjoy it," grinned Nev, "But I know you do!"

Paddy didn't answer. He put his arms behind his head, the sun catching the
first traces of underarm hair he was sprouting. Nev continued.

"There's an old barn just down there, we could go there if you want."

Paddy stood up and they were soon scuttling towards the derelict building.

Inside, Paddy removed his trousers and underwear. He looked rather comical,
standing their stark naked except for his heavy boots. His cock was already
stiffening. Nev unfastened his trousers and pulled out his cock. He played
with it, coaxing it to full erection, easing back the foreskin.

"One of these days I'm going to make you suck it!" he said.

"Cocks in bums is one thing," Paddy answered, "But cocks in mouths is
another!"

Although the two of them had talked about oral sex before they had never
tried it. Their sexual activity had begun with mutual masturbation and then
moved on to anal sex. Nev was definitely straight but the morals of the
gypsy clan prevented him from becoming involved with any of the girls in
the group. Relationships between boys and girls were strictly supervised
and the furthest he'd progressed was to feel a few titties or grope inside
a girl's knickers. So, he had to make do with Paddy's firm arse
instead. Not that he ever complained about it, Paddy's sweet bumhole was
tighter than any girl's snatch.

A broken trough would serve their purposes and Paddy lay himself upon it.

Nev crouched behind him and spat on the puckered hole presented to him. He
smeared the spit around the orifice and pushed a finger-tip inside. Paddy
moaned.

"That feels so good," Said Paddy, "Keep doing it."

Nev's usual practice was to simply get his friend wet and then slam his
cock inside but this time he acquiesced. He withdrew his finger and sniffed
it. He could smell the boy there but it didn't seem unpleasant. He licked
the finger and returned it to the boy's crack, pushing it in as far as he
could and feeling the boy's moistness. He withdrew, spat again, and then
tried to insert two fingers. Paddy tensed at the intrusion. Nev was
enjoying the power he had over the younger boy, willingly offering
himself. He tried three fingers, rotating them in the boy's chute.

"Bum me, please!" Paddy whimpered.

Nev stood again, positioning his hard cock against the boy's rear. It
probed and pushed before sliding in fully. He now had what he wanted most
of all, at least six inches of throbbing delight up inside his best
friend. He pulled out before thrusting it back inside, repeating over and
over as he fucked the youngster.

Nev's pace quickened, his own buttocks tensing and quivering as he ploughed
and plundered. Whether he was thinking of girls' snatches as he pressed
into Paddy we shall never know but before long he reached his climax. Paddy
felt the member thicken inside him as it shot its creamy mess. Paddy was
close, too.

"Finish me off, Nev, please!" he begged.

Nev would normally expect Paddy to do this for himself but on this
occasion, he reached around and took the boy's four inches. His half-hard
cock was still buried in the boy, leaking yet more of his teen fluid. As he
wanked Paddy briskly. Paddy enjoyed the feeling of the heavier boy pressing
down on top of him. He was panting and could hold back no more, letting go
of thin squirts of boycum that dripped onto Nev's fingers and splashed to
the ground.


...


The Wagtails were back home for lunch. Simon asked his mother if they might
be allowed to camp on the island and she had agreed. She trusted her eldest
son and Joe was clearly a responsible young man. As long as they kept an
eye on the two younger boys she was happy to let them camp out. There was
no time to make today a sensible option, as all the preparations had to be
made, so tomorrow it would have to be.

"I'll send Mr Taylor with you so he can check you'll be fine," she said,
"If he's content, then you can stay there for a while."

"Yippee!" cried Timmy and Robin in unison.

"Thanks, mummy," said Simon.

"Now, you'll need some provisions so I'll need to make a visit to the shops
in the village."

"I'll come with you to help," said Joe, graciously.

"That's very thoughtful, Joe," she smiled. "Robin, you can come too. We can
pick up your shoes from the cobblers."

Mrs Walton, Joe and Robin left for the village after lunch was finished,
leaving Simon and Timmy behind at the cottage. They decided to play
dominoes so Simon took the set from a drawer and they began. The
conversation began with discussion of the island and how much fun camping
there would be. Then they talked about the two gypsy boys they had
encountered, hoping they wouldn't be bumping in to them again.

Simon felt a stirring in his loins. He'd been having some great sexual fun
with Timmy's older brother, Joe. Now he wondered if little Timmy would be
just as willing to play with willies! He thought of ways to steer the
conversation but in the end, was quite blunt in his approach.

"How old are you now, Timmy?" he began.

"Eleven," Timmy replied, "My birthday was in January."

"I'm only a year-and-a-bit older, my birthday's in November."

"Joe's much older, he's thirteen."

"A lot happens between eleven and thirteen."

"What sort of things?"

"Changes,"

"Changes? Like growing?"

"Growing, yes, but other changes too."

"What other changes?"

"Well, keep it a secret and I'll tell you."

"I won't tell a soul," said Timmy, his interest piqued, "Tell me about
them."

"It's about `changes' down there," said Simon, pointing towards his groin.

Timmy giggled.

"I mean it! Things change down there!"

"If you mean the hairs I know about that!" Timmy stated.

"Really?"

"Yes, I've seen Joe's willy!"

"When?"

"Hundreds of times! We used to have bath-time together, but nowadays, mummy
lets him have a bath by himself. She says he's allowed some privacy now
that he's a young man."

"Gosh!" Simon responded.

"Sometimes he shows me the hairs so I can see how much they have grown."

"So, I imagine you don't have any yet?"

"No, I don't...but Joe says I'll have them soon! Do you have any?"

"Yes, some," Simon replied, only just managing to stop himself from saying
`but not as many as Joe'.

"Can I see them/"

"Yes," said Simon. He was about to stand up and unfasten his trousers when
he had another thought, "But you will have to show me yours, too."

"I don't have any, silly!"

"Maybe if I have a close look I will find some."

Timmy really wanted to see Simon's pubes just to gauge how far behind his
own development was.

"Very well," he announced, "We'll show together."

They both left the table, standing face to face and unbuttoning the front
of their shorts. They dropped them to the floor and kicked them aside,
standing there now in their undergarments.

"On a count of three?" Simon suggested, "One...two...THREE!"

They each pulled their underpants down. They were both hard. Simon's
three-incher bobbed upwards proudly and Timmy gasped in delight at the
wispy pubes he saw. Timmy's cock was only a little smaller but stuck out
rigidly from a smooth and hairless groin.

"We've both got a bonk on!" Timmy giggled, commenting on the erect state of
their pubescent organs.

"Let's sit over there on the settee," proposed Simon, "Then we can each
have a closer look."

Once they had sat, Simon suggested Timmy touch him there. Timmy's fingers
stroked the delicate pubes and glanced against Simon's stiffie causing it
to bounce provocatively.

"Can I touch yours?" Simon asked.

Timmy had shown his willy to other boys at school but it had never gone
further than that. He nodded and let Simon fondle him. It felt nice, he
thought, better than when he touched it himself. The two young boys
continued to play with one another for a while until Simon spoke.

"Have you ever played with your willy like this?" he asked.

"Sometimes when I'm in bed I get a stiffie and then I play with it,"
confessed Timmy.

"Well," Simon went on conspiratorially, "One of the big changes that
happens when you get to our age is that playing with it can have an
exciting ending!"

"What do you mean?"

"If you play with it and move your fingers up and down...like this," he
demonstrated by using a jerking off motion on Timmy, "And you keep going
for a while..."

"What is it, Simon? What happens?"

"Some sticky stuff comes out of your willy and you feel all fuzzy!"

"Sticky stuff? Like glue?!" Timmy gulped.

"No, Timmy," Simon explained, "It's the stuff that makes babies."

"Golly gumdrops!" said a wide-eyed Timmy, "Really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Can you make the sticky stuff, then?"

"Yes, I can...would you like to see it?"

"Oh, yes please, show me the sticky stuff, Simon!"

Simon released Timmy's little cock from his attentions and began to wank
himself.

"Copy me," he instructed, "In a little while my spunk will come out."

"Spunk? Is that what it's called?"

"There are other words for it," said Simon, resisting the temptation to
explain that Joe had introduced to the term `semen', "But boys usually call
it spunk."

They ceased their chatter for a while, Simon concentrating on his wanking
and Timmy trying his best to imitate.

"Here it is," Simon announced.

Timmy watched as Simon's body stiffened and a droplet of clear cum oozed
from the slit of his little pole. It trickled onto his fingers as Simon
sighed with satisfaction.

"Oh, Simon, it's wonderful!" gasped Timmy, "And you went all wobbly, too!"

"That's the best part. I call it the fuzzy feeling," said Simon, wiping
himself on a hanky.

Suddenly, they heard someone coming in through the kitchen door. The two
youngsters scrambled to pull their shorts back on and only just managed to
look respectful when old Mr Taylor came in to the room.

"Where's your mother?" he enquired, as gruffly as ever.

"She's down at the village," Simon explained, "I'm sure she won't be too
long."

"Aye, and meanwhile you two are left here to get up to mischief I reckon."

The boys looked at one another sheepishly, wondering if the elderly
farm-hand had any notion of what had just occurred.

"We were, um, we were playing dominoes," Simon stuttered, pointing to the
game still spread out on the table. Mr Taylor hmphed scornfully.

"Tell your mother there's a brace of pheasants in the kitchen, I need to
get back to work - unlike some lads who spend all their day on frippery and
nonsense!"

If only he knew!


...


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