Date: Fri, 25 Apr 2014 00:56:07 +0100
From: Vintage Speedoboy
Subject: Spitfire summer

			      Spitfire summer

An account of the experiences of the summer of 1940 from a 13 year old boy.
By Vintagespeedoboy.

Note, the title has no connection with the works of the same titles by
Malcolm brown, Terence Dicks & Peter Harding, it is entirely a work of
fiction & the historical accuracy is altered for the story.

Please read nifty's conditions stated on the website before reading this
story & please donate if you can, enjoy the story.


It has been less than a year since the day Britain declared war on Germany
& already the country is experiencing shortages with food, petrol & clothes
rationing, all of which require coupons, already every spare bit of land is
being utilized for growing crops to keep the country fed including peoples
gardens, mum has to take all her tips from the Ministry of food leaflets to
get us by.  Treats such as sweets, chocolate, ice cream & soft drinks have
now disappeared from the shops & our mums can't make pop in any great
quantity as sugar is also on ration, we have to be careful how we look
after our clothes now & make them last, what were once cast offs is now
make do & mend.

My name's Jim, everyone at school calls me Jimbo, I'm 13 years old & attend
the local secondary boy's school, I'm now in my second year & have one more
year to go before I leave at the age of 14, I'm 5 foot 6 inches in height
with sandy brown hair in the normal short back & sides style with bright
blue eyes of a footballers build.  My clothes consist of=grey flannel short
trousers, grey flannel shirt, woolen jumper which mum has knitted for me,
long woolen socks which I have rolled down most of the time, knitted cotton
underwear which sometimes can be seen below the leg line of my shorts, a
heavy stout pair of lace up shoes, a cotton gabardine jacket, a wooly hat,
wooly gloves, an old leather belt & finally my fathers old WW1 Mk V11 army
gas cape which is my rain cape especially when I'm out on my bicycle, every
one calls me Sherlock Holmes because I'm always wearing it whenever it's
wet & Holmes is my surname.

For Sunday best & whenever I have to be smartly dressed I wear my school
uniform with short trousers, ( I was 16 when I bought my first pair of long
trousers after having saved up clothing coupons), my PE kit consists of a
navy blue pair of long leg cotton shorts, a white cotton vest & plimsolls,
swimming trunks are an afterthought, they're made of a cotton wool mix & go
really baggy when they're wet, a few boys have Jantzen trunks which have
the famous diving lady logo, here's where I'm lucky, I managed to buy 2
pairs of pure silk swimming trunks from a sports shop last year on scout
camp, these are a brief style with tie cords for the legs & waist used by
club swimmers, I love wearing these instead of underpants & for a good
reason as well, I have a 6 inch when its hard cock nesting in a large bush
of pubic hair which is always getting boners & every time that happens it
leaks a fair amount of a white coloured watery liquid into my trunks making
them wet which I've heard is the stuff which comes out before you shoot
your spunk which they call pre-cum & in my case I can now shoot a big load
up to 2 yards away if I have a wank standing up & afterwards my cock still
keeps leaking the remains of my spunk into my underwear, it's these stains
which Mum always gives me a grilling about hence the reason I change my
underpants for my silk swimming trunks before school.

My day starts early in the morning at Britton's dairies, I start my milk
round at 6am Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays as the milk ration is 3 pints
per person per week, when I arrive Mr. Britton has already loaded up the
milk cart which is coupled up to an old Thos Merryweather & sons steam
traction engine, it's smaller than the type used on farms & I love every
minute of the ride on that old engine with its smells & sounds although the
cops keep warning Mr. Britton about sounding the engine's whistle early in
the morning.  I return home on my bike at 7.45am for breakfast, put on my
school uniform & go to school, on the way in I stop at Jones's shop & for a
half ounce of either broken biscuits or biscuit crumbs for a penny which
I'll eat at break times with the free third of a pint of milk, after school
I do my evening paper round before going home for my evening meal, on
Friday evenings I attend my scout troop at Saint Joseph's church, please
excuse the long introduction which is needed to give the reader a good
insight into the time unless you were around at the time in which case
you'll remember them like yesterday, now to the story.

During the Easter holidays of 1940, myself & a few scouts were on our 1 day
hike which is one of our scout tests, we had climbed to the top of Beacon
hill & sat down enjoying the view on a fine sunny day when we heard the
unmistakable roar of a fighter, either a Spitfire or a Hurricane, we stood
up craning our necks to see who's the first to spot it which was me, the
Spitfire came in low over the valley & climbed so as to pass low & close to
the side of the hill, if there's one thing which thrills me, it's the sight
& sound of a Spitfire, it is such a beautiful aeroplane with a loud
evocative roar from it's Rolls Royce 27 litre V12 Merlin engine, as it
passed by the hill I could clearly see the pilot's rosy complexioned
smiling face as the RT mask was unclipped, there was no mistaking it, that
plane was being flown by a woman who gave us a thumbs up sign, it bore a
crest on the side of the aircraft denoting which town had raised the ?5,000
needed to buy a Spitfire, the roar from that plane almost deafened us as it
passed by before it climbed into the sky waggling its wings, 'OMG!, that
plane gave us a salute & it's a sight which we'll remember for the rest of
our days.'

My best mate's a boy called Bill, he's a boyish faced blue eyed blond of
the same size as myself with the same size cock, he's in my class at school
& in my scout troop, last years scout camp was at Torquay in Devon which
has a beautiful sheltered cove about 10 minutes walk from the camp site
where we went swimming every day, it's there that both Bill & myself had
our first sex together in the woods near to the camp site, at first we just
wanked each other off before we experimented with each other progressing
onto sucking & fucking.  We had our sleepovers under canvas last year for
which our shelter consisted of tying 2 gas capes together to make a flat
basha before tying it between bushes with string from the corners & a
length from the centre to an overhanging branch giving it a slight slant
for rain water to run off before finally camouflaging it with leaves &
vegetation, even from a short distance away it's very hard to spot giving
us privacy at night whenever we have really great sex between us.

Our camping gear consists mainly of army surplus items mostly from the
First World War consisting of a bedroll & blanket, groundsheet, gas cape, D
shaped tinned steel mess tins, water bottle, Tommy's cooker & whatever else
we could scrounge, we walked to the nearby bluebell woods which is next to
Benson's farm which is also used as an airfield & is bordered by the river.
We set up our basha well inside the woods, camouflaged it & talked to each
other amidst the birdsong all around us, it was so peaceful that you
wouldn't have thought there was a war on, sometimes you would hear a plane
but that was about it, we were told not to light any fires because of the
smoke which could attract the attention from a German plane so we used one
of my Tommy's cookers which is a tin containing alcohol paste with a pot
stand & burns with a blue flame at night & invisible in daylight, we brewed
up a mug of tea & made an omelette from some powdered eggs mixed with
pemmican & spread that on slices of bread.

We laid on our bedrolls after finishing our meal talking before it turned
to sex, we both had huge boners inside our shorts & with me wearing those
pure silk swimming trunks my cock was twitching & throbbing wildly as the
head pushed out through the foreskin onto the silk straining against the
material, pre-cum flowed copiously into my trunks making them wet & forming
a wet patch on my shorts, if I laid here much longer I would be shooting a
load of spunk into those trunks without ever touching my cock & said to
Bill, "I had better do you now," to which he agreed taking his shorts &
underpants off & crouching on all fours whilst I slowly pushed my leaking
throbbing cock inside his hole.

My cock was so hard & rampant that I lit up a cigarette which gave me a
head rush after a couple of puffs & seemed to tame my cock somewhat, it's a
trick which I heard from an older boy in the playground who says he's
fucked a few girls which I don't believe for one minute as we've all been
warned that getting a girl pregnant could land you in Borstal & definitely
get you a few strokes of the dreaded birch, even a minor misdemeanor would
get you a clip round the ear from a copper.  The cigarette trick certainly
seemed to work as my cock is only now occasionally twitching & is still
hard which means that I will last a bit longer & enjoy the fuck of my best
friend more as I slowly pumped into him, after a few minutes those lovely
sensations built up inside my cock & balls until my spunk gushed deep
inside him with a series of squirts, this caused him to shoot out his load
all by itself over my groundsheet as his hole kept grabbing my cock.
Afterwards we sat on a fallen tree whilst my spunk drained out from Bill's
bottom & we both cleaned the spunk from our cocks before lighting up
cigarettes & enjoying the euphoric high from a good session knowing that
the next one would be me taking Bill's cock inside me, I can't wait.

I didn't have to wait long when Bill stroked his cock & got it ready to
fuck my hole, fortunately he had a small tin of Vaseline which we shared to
lube up with, after smearing it over his cock & inside my hole he slowly
pushed his rampant cock inside me waiting a while before pounding me for
all he's worth taking only a few seconds before I felt his cock swell up
before feeling a series of warm gushes as his spunk flooded into me, his
cock kept touching something inside which felt awesome & made my cock shoot
all by itself without touching it, after that we had a good nights sleep
under our makeshift shelter.

As neither of us had watches on we couldn't tell the time when we woke up
the following morning & boy were we in for a surprise, sat outside our
shelter was old Bert the poacher, he must be in his 60's at least & still
as fit as a fiddle, he had the appearance of an old tramp with his flowing
grey beard, bushy grey brown curly hair, bright green eyes, a deeply
suntanned leathery face wearing an old trench coat, dark brown trousers &
stout brown hob nail boots.  He lit up an old pipe using a lighter made
from a bullet casing & looked deep in thought as he took a few draws from
the pipe with the aroma of the smoke wafting through our camp site, beside
him lay his stout walking stick which concealed & assembled into a small
bore muzzle loading percussion shotgun, he opened the conversation asking.
"May I please trouble you lads for a nice cup of tea?"

I lit the Tommy's cooker & boiled enough water for 3 mugs of tea, old Bert
surprised us by producing a small bottle of milk, as I looked at it in
disbelief exclaiming. "Where did you get that from?"  "Aah you see, I have
a way with cows, if I want a drop of milk I just go up to one & milk it."
"You crafty old devil!" said Bill with a look of surprise on his face, the
water boiled & I made the teas, old Bert carried a WW1 mess tin set in his
pack & passed me the lid which made his cup, as he took a few sips he said.
"I see your mum's taught you well, that's a very nice cuppa thank you."  He
went on telling us about his poaching exploits which we listened to with
great interest with my young mind taking in his best methods until he took
out an old tobacco tin inside of which he kept a few home made banger
fireworks, he lit one & tossed it a few yards away, we watched its glow
cord fuse smouldering intently for a few minutes before it erupted with a
loud bang, we laughed out loudly especially when he explained to us that he
uses one as a distraction if a gamekeeper is likely to catch him.  We
laughed loudly when he told us about one who was haranguing him face to
face when the firework exploded some distance away & he told the
gamekeeper. "There's your poacher over there," at which he made his escape.
We cooked some more powdered egg omelette mixed with the remaining pemmican
for our breakfast fully expecting someone to come & investigate the bang
which no one did, we struck camp & parted company watching old Bert depart
through the woods when suddenly just like a ghost he was gone, he did leave
us a rabbit each for our mums to skin & cook.  I met him whenever I camped
at this spot which would be frequently throughout the summer during which
he imparted his knowledge to me like a mentor, I was glad that he did,
later on those skills would stand me in good stead & one day a police
constable knocked on our door, he carried a package wrapped in brown paper
& told me to get a gun licence right away, when I opened the package it was
old Bert's gun, he had succumbed one cold & wet night, the note was found
on his body & it was his dying wish that I would become the new owner of
his gun.

All too soon the Easter holidays were over & it was back to school for the
summer term, we looked forward to the swimming baths opening & the school's
swimming periods even though the water felt icy cold during the early part
of the year, the strongest swimmers were selected for the Bronze medallion
lifesaving group, this is the qualification required to work as a lifeguard
which was valid for life & I was one of the boys selected.  We changed 2 to
a cubicle which I shared with Bill, after drying ourselves we would briefly
stroke each others hard cocks for a few seconds because we always had to
get changed rapidly & finish the job inside a derelict house during our
lunch break, there was a shed at the bottom of the garden which was totally
covered in brambles so thick it just looked like a huge bushy mound, last
year we gathered loads of big juicy blackberries from there, it was such a
huge load mum made a delicious blackberry pie, loads of blackberry jam &
dad even made some blackberry wine for Christmas, already I'm looking
forward to the next harvest of blackberries.

Over the next few nights I patiently cleared away the covering of brambles
from the door for which I wore dad's pair of stout leather gloves, when I
finally entered the shed the inside looked like a morgue, everything was
covered in dust & cobwebs, somehow I was drawn to the tarpaulin covering a
large object, it was heavy & covered in dust, slowly I managed to removed
the heavy canvas revealing an old motorcycle, my eyes lit up with
excitement & thoughts flooded through my head as though I've found long
lost treasure or the Holy grail itself, I was now on cloud nine.

I looked the machine over by torchlight; both tyres were flat, the levers
worked & the wheels turned round, I tried to push the machine but it was
too much for me so I sat on it, lit up a cigarette & contemplated my
thoughts, I remembered the difference of wheeling a bicycle with a flat
tyre to one with both fully inflated & realized that I am going to have to
blow up both tyres to move it, I went back home & returned with dad's
Dunlop Junior car foot pump, connected it to the valve hoping to god there
was no punctures, I laboriously pumped away on the pump changing my foot as
I went with the tyre creaking as it slowly inflated until it became too
hard for me to continue pumping.  I took a rest before pumping up the other
tyre again changing my foot over, this time I was beginning to tire & my
legs were aching, I persevered & finally the tyre was now fully inflated,
there were no ominous hissing noises which would mean there's a puncture,
the machine was now as light as a feather to push, I packed the footpump,
torch & cutters into my haversack, sat on the machine, eased it through the
door, through the garden onto the streets which were unlit owing to the
blackout, home was just a half mile away & being stopped by a policeman
would very likely lose me my prize & possibly have me hauled before the
juvenile magistrate.

The bike was now safely parked in my shed, thoughts as to if it would
start? Where would I get petrol? Which is rationed? Would it need a spare
part? All I knew is that the machine is a Francis Barnett with a Villiers
engine, I couldn't very well go around asking my mates at school,
throughout the day I kept thinking about that machine & come lunchtime we
went to the derelict house for a smoke, there were 4 of us went & it was
immediately noticed that the shed door was open with Tim, another friend of
mine saying. "Look at this! Someone's been in here," as we quickly entered
the shed & lit up our cigarettes.  I searched through the shelves finding
things like nuts & bolts, some garden tools & a cardboard box which had the
appearance of being moth eaten; I looked inside & found an instruction
manual & spare parts list for the motorcycle, before I could put them
inside my haversack one of the boys said. "Here come on, let's have a look
at those books."  I replied. "OK but its finder's keepers, they're mine
now," as the boys looked through them Tim said. "They're for a motorbike;
you haven't even got one you daft sod!"  Jack the 4th member of our group
looked at the tarpaulin noting the area of the floor which the machine had
stood before finally noticing the tyre marks leading to the door; he looked
at me with a suspicious look, pointed to the floor saying.  "Look at this,
I tell you there's been one parked in here, see those marks on the floor,
see the oil stains, see how clean it is, see how all the brambles have been
cleared away from the door, someone knew there was a motorbike in here &
took it away, that could have been us if we'd have known!"

I managed to keep the motorcycle a secret from my mates & soon all talk
about it & the fun they might have had on it soon died away, I kept on
thinking about bagging bunnies for the pot, with food being rationed a few
bunnies would help us with a bit of meat on the table even though there's
loads of rabbits out in the country there's organized poaching gangs going
after them with nets, ferrets, snares &c, with butchers prepared to pay up
to half a crown for each one & the skins selling for up to 3 pence each,
gangs are making money hand over fist, farmers don't usually mind people
shooting them as they eat a lot of food crops & even most coppers look the
other way, they're after the gangs who can rake in up to 200 bunnies in a
nights work, this was the days before the myxomatosis disease was
introduced.  Old Bert told me that the holy grail is to bag a pheasant,
during the day you just can't get anywhere near them for a shot, at night
they tend to roost in bushes so as to avoid foxes, Bert was a stickler who
swore by eating your greens as he insists it improves your night vision,
with vegetables being off ration, kids having priority for oranges & apples
& my last school medical eyesight test being perfect I felt confident that
I could indeed go after them, the question remained I needed something
quiet to bring one down, a gun fired at night is almost like shooting a
hornets nest.  Poultry farmers had a hard time as did anyone who kept
chickens as poultry theft was rife, even the couple of chickens one kept so
as to have eggs weren't safe, we had 3 hens which we brought indoors at
night whilst some of our neighbours had there's taken during the night.

Both Tim & myself went into the shed of the derelict house after school one
day, I was sat next to him at the back of the classroom during our last
period of the day & he got a huge boner inside his shorts, he leaned back
on his chair proudly showing it to me, it looked really huge inside his
shorts & I knew he has the biggest cock in our form although up to now he's
never let anyone touch it, now he's quietly asking me to feel it which I
did, I could feel it throbbing & pulsing inside his shorts, I couldn't keep
my hand on it for long so I whispered to him. "Come with be to the old
house after school."

Once inside the shed with the door bolted, we dropped our shorts &
underwear when Tim's eyes almost popped out of his head in surprise as he
exclaimed. "Blooming heck, you're wearing your swimming trunks!" I took
them off saying.  "Here Tim! Why don't you try them on?"  He slipped on my
silk trunks & popped a boner with his huge cock; the trunks barely
contained it with the tip of his cock almost reaching his hip, he felt all
over the trunks, humped the air in front of him saying. "They're fantastic,
they feel so good on my cock, I'm just about to shoot my spunk inside
them," I saw his cock pulsing away inside my trunks, lit up a cigarette &
passed it to him saying. "Quick! You'd better have a few puffs on this."
Tim took a few puffs giving him an awesome head rush & taming his rampant
huge cock before taking my trunks off & handing them back to me with a
large wet spot where his cock discharged some pre-cum asking.  "Can you
tell me where you got them from? I want a pair; they're awesome, just like
a pair of girls panties."

I slowly wanked his huge cock which continually oozed pre-cum which dripped
onto the floor before I knelt down in front of him, put his cock in my
mouth & sucked on its glans; he elicited a loud sigh before saying. "Oh my
god, that feels so good," I continued sucking for a few moments when
suddenly he said. "I'm going to shoot."


Suddenly his first blast of cum shot out hitting my throat causing me to
gag & pull away from his cock before several more ropes squirted into my
face & over my shirt, I licked some off & swallowed it, Tim's spunk tasted
really nice, he looked at me in surprise saying. "I didn't think anyone did
that, it's so horrid."  I put some on my finger offering it to him
asking. "Why don't you give it a try? You might like it."  He licked the
offering from my finger, swilled it around like a connoisseur tasting a
fine wine before saying. "It's not that bad, it does taste quite nice."  He
returned the service giving me a good wank with several blasts of spunk
flying out about 5-6 feet landing on the floor in a pool before the last
dregs dribbled out from my cock, he took some on his finger & licked it
saying. "Your spunk also tastes nice as well," I took out my ruler from my
haversack asking.  "Let me measure your cock," I measured it from the pubis
to the tip & across the glans saying. "Its 8 inches by 2 & a bit across the
head, you've got one hell of a huge cock for a 13 year old, I can only just
about get my hand around it."  "We must do this again, you were amazing,"
"I would like that very much, how would you like to spend a night under
canvas in Bluebell woods with me, we could do so much together & no one can
see us."  "You're on, I'll take you up on that, and good job I'm in the
scouts I love camping."

I met up with old Bert in Bluebell woods & this time he allowed me to fire
a shot from his gun, as a walking stick it felt quite heavy which meant
that as soon as someone held it they would immediately guess it wasn't just
a walking stick, he removed both ends, screwed the stock on which contained
the trigger mechanism & the hammer, showed me how to measure the powder
with a powder horn, put in the first wad with a ramrod, poured in a measure
of shot, put in the second wad with a ramrod, cocked the hammer, placed a
cap on the nipple & now the gun was ready for firing.  He showed me how to
hold it & sight along the barrel which wasn't obstructed as the hammer was
underneath and then passed it to me as he instructed me how to hold it
saying.  "You hold the gun into your shoulder & look along the barrel to
aim it at your target, let out a breath & pull the trigger."  I became
nervous knowing that I now had a real gun in my hands; I followed his
instructions pointing it at the side of a bank of earth, took aim at a spot
& pulled the trigger.  The gun erupted with a loud bang belching out a
cloud of sulphurous smelling smoke with the recoil giving my shoulder a
thump, I felt a sense of euphoria knowing that I had controlled & fired a
deadly firearm & handed it back to Bert saying.  "Thank you, that was truly
amazing," we went over & looked at the spot where the shot hit, he then
praised me saying.  "Well done, you've just fired your first shot & you hit
your target, had that been a bunny you would be taking it home to your mum
for your dinner."

With the weapon having discharged its shot it now became unloaded, he
coached me through all the known firing positions & how to clean the gun
before showing me how to stalk my prey emphasizing that I should NEVER move
around with the gun both loaded & cocked for which the price may well be an
accidental discharge & possibly killing someone, these were hard lessons he
was teaching me & imparting his knowledge of decades out in the
countryside, his lectures went further covering shelter building which he
demonstrated with his oiled canvas sheet & how to camouflage it, he even
erected his sheet into a diamond shaped tent, dug a small trench around it
& covered it with leaves & debris from the ground, apart from the twine
tied to the apex, it looked just like a mound on the ground & he said.
"This diamond shape is how you put it up in very bad weather, your own body
heat can warm it up inside & if it's really cold you can just light a
candle which will give you a bit more warmth, no one can see the light as
it doesn't penetrate the canvas, if you have to put up the diamond where
there's no trees right in the middle of nowhere you tie a couple of long
sticks to form your 'A' poles & just put it up," I was learning more from
this old soldier than in any training manual.

He went onto demonstrating movement with stealth starting with what he
called the 'Ghost walk', anyone who's ever walked through woodland will
always crack a twig sometimes with a very loud crack, by rolling the feet
across the sole it a twig is stepped upon the crack is often reduced or
even eliminated, his lecture went onto various forms of crawling & monkey
runs, then onto walking across country keeping below the level of hilltops
to avoid silhouetting yourself against the sky, walking close to hedgerows,
reducing ones profile when crossing gates using a 'Gate vault', then onto
navigation at night or in fog in featureless terrain, using a compass &c.
He further went onto camouflage methods of breaking up the human form,
constructing ghillie suits, use of camouflage netting with differing
coloured strips of sacking or burlap & when he laid down in the grass he
just looked like a nondescript mound & certainly unlike a person lying
there who could suddenly jump up if need be, his final parting gift of the
day was a book by Lilias Rider haggard published in 1935 which charts the
story of Frederick Rolfe the king of the Norfolk poachers titled 'I walked
by night', he brewed up some tea as I flicked through this book.

I thanked him for this wonderful book, the cup of tea & his wisdom imparted
to me that day, we met right throughout that summer during which I honed
those skills he imparted to me, in a way I had become his apprentice & he
was the sorcerer, between him & his book I learned skills to stand me in
good stead throughout the war & after with the continuation of rationing
which was finally abolished in 1954.

During one of our meetings in Bluebell woods he asked me something which
took me by surprise when he said.  "Young Jim, I keep looking at you &
you've always struck me as a very nice boy, you look good & I've seen that
you're packing quite a size in your shorts, has anyone ever played with
it?"  Right away I knew what he was after, we've heard tales from the man
who looks after the old Victorian public toilets in the park, we call him
'Bog hole Bill', he keeps warning us that there's men who like young boys &
to be careful, of course none of us believe him as no one in my class has
been accosted by such men, those toilets are badly looked after & it seems
its only the paper which gets changed, the litter picked up & there's been
a hole in the dividing wall between both cubicles for as long as I can
remember, Tim would later become the first the day he puts his rock hard
cock through that hole.  I answered truthfully that I've had sex with a few
boys both in my school & scout troop, I saw that he indeed was becoming
highly aroused with a bulge in his trousers, his voice changed & his eyes
took on a gaze which I felt making my cock rock hard, his conversation went
onto describing his experiences from decades ago when he was my age right
through his teenage years before he got married & had a family, he went
onto lovingly describing his wife & his young son in loving detail & showed
me an old photograph, his boy looked stunning even though the photo was the
worse for wear, he looked a fine handsome man in his 30's with a beautiful
wife & a 12 year old son, my curiosity wanted to know where they are when
tears flooded his eyes & he cried loudly with an outpouring which he has
borne inside him for 28 years since April 14th 1912 when his family went
down with the RMS Titanic.

Throughout my childhood I kept dreaming of a huge black ship with its stern
out of the water lit up like Blackpool illuminations when the lights
suddenly flickered before they went out, it was horrible watching that ship
sink into the sea with all those people in the water, that dream always
woke me up crying & many is the night mum has comforted me as I cried
myself back to sleep, she even took me to doctors & even a consultant
psychiatrist & no one found anything wrong with me, as I gazed at John, the
boy in the photo I realized just how much he looks like me, that's when I
knew that I have John's spirit inside me & felt a feeling of peace &
fulfillment which also came over Bert's face, when he showed me their birth
& marriage certificates we would receive such a shock as I gazed over those
documents, now faded through time & having been in the sea but still
perfectly legible, this now became a story which could make front page news
headlines, I was now looking at mum's original birth certificate.

As I broke the news to Bert saying. "This is my mum, how could this have
possibly happened? He questioned me very closely before tears of joy
flooded his face saying, "She's alive! She's alive!  We hurriedly walked to
my house, I let myself in with the key saying, "Mum, there's someone who
wants to see you," as her gaze fell on him she shouted out. "Jimmy, why in
hell's name have you brought an old tramp to my house? When suddenly her
searching gaze fell on his face, even after 28 years it was those bright
green eyes which she recognized, her face looked like she'd seen a ghost
when I asked mum. "Please look at these documents & this photo."  She
looked through the documents lovingly describing their times together &
spent ages lovingly talking about that photo, I hurriedly put the kettle on
to make a well deserved cup of tea which became a few as they lovingly
talked over their past but with mum now married to dad, theirs became a
parting of the waves with Bert quietly whispering into my ear. "Pop over to
the woods after your tea."

I met Bert as arranged in the woods where we sat on a fallen tree, he gave
me a long hug & I felt the erection in his trousers against mine which
rapidly became hard, Bert said. "Continuing the conversation we had earlier
about messing around with other boys, you're a fine young lad & it's been a
long time since I've had sex with one, would you like to have me?"  I have
always wondered what it would be like to do it with someone older &
harboured a secret wish to do so, I thought about it & my rampant cock
guided me into saying. "Yes please, you will be gentle won't you?"  He
gently felt my cock through my shorts which was leaking pre-cum into my
silk trunks, electric jolts flowed through my body as I elicited a loud
sigh, I had never felt like this when another boy touched me & a euphoric
glow which I've never experienced before overcame me as a single jet of
spunk shot into my trunks, he took my shorts & trunks down & sucked on my
cock saying. "You've got a really nice size on you for a lad of your age."


It felt so awesome as he sucked my cock with my balls & glans tingling, my
cock became so hard as those feelings built up within minutes before
shooting several huge squirts of spunk into his mouth, I couldn't feel the
squirts as those feelings became so intense I screamed begging him to stop
as my body thrashed around uncontrollably after which I felt on cloud nine
with the awesome afterglow that followed.  We kissed & hugged each other
with him putting his tongue inside my mouth giving me a taste of my own
spunk before we sat down smoking a cigarette each after which I gave him my
tin of Vaseline to lube us up, his cock was a bit longer than mine &
fatter, he slowly pushed it inside my hole leaving it there for several
minutes to settle, it's constant twitching felt awesome making my cock hard
again, he slowly pumped his cock inside my hole which seemed to be touching
something inside me which made my cock feel like shooting another load,
again those feelings quickly built up until several huge squirts of spunk
shot out of my cock without me touching it landing a few feet away as I
felt a series of his very strong pulses inside me as his spunk flooded deep
inside me, once again those feelings were so intensive I was almost
screaming my head off with pleasure.

Again the afterglow was so awesome together with a feeling of deep
satisfaction as we both sat on the tree smoking another cigarette each & he
said in a loving voice. "Jim, you've given me the best fuck I've ever had
in my life, "to which I answered. "Likewise, I have never felt like that
with another boy, our session was truly the best yet."  I now had to dump
the spunk from inside me before going home & just as I was about to leave,
he produced two rabbits which he shot earlier saying. "Now Jim, you be a
good boy & give those to your mum, I'll see you again sometime."  I bid him
goodbye & left in a high state of euphoria walking through the woods
whistling the tune from the 1939 movie 'The wizard of oz' 'Somewhere over
the rainbow'.

The following day Tim went into the public toilets for his usual wank
whenever he goes into town, this time a voice from the next cubicle said to
him. "Hey young lad, how about you put that lovely cock of yours through
the hole."  Tim obliged the strange voice & immediately a mouth took his
cock, his tongue licked all over his glans which gave him such intensive
sensations he shot a huge load of spunk into the eager mouth within a
minute during which the intensity of his sensations had him screaming
begging whoever was sucking his cock to stop after which he walked to a
nearby park bench, sat down & smoked a cigarette in the awesome afterglow
he was now experiencing waiting for whoever sucked him off to come out
before the time on the church clock told him when to return to school.

Our May day bank holiday scout camp was on the edge of Benson's farm beside
the river & this time we encountered a problem brought about by the war,
our 2 man hike tents which we used last year were now banned because they
were white & could easily be spotted by a German aircraft, frantic calls
were made by our scoutmaster trying to locate tents in either green, khaki
or brown only to find that all the towns scout troops were in the same
boat, it looked for all the world that our camp would have to be cancelled,
boys became disheartened until I said my piece to the scoutmaster asking.
"How many boys have either army groundsheets or gas capes?" he shot me a
serious look & thought for a moment before asking. "Holmes, say that
again."  I replied. "The gas cape or the groundsheet is issued to every
soldier as a means of constructing a shelter; two tied together make a flat
shelter big enough for two of us to sleep under which is called a bivouac,
normally they would string them between trees, on the farm we would need
tent poles about two and a half feet long for which we use broom handles,
each one would need a cut off nail in the end which goes through one of the
holes, if someone can find some tubing we could cut those poles down to
half their length in which case you would get three 15 inch lengths from
each broom handle, two broom handles will make three pairs of poles."

The scoutmaster shot me a thoughtful look before saying. "Watkins, get me a
broom from the cupboard, Bridger, go to the store room & fetch me a
groundsheet," both boys returned with the items whilst I erected the
folding wooden table & the scoutmaster perused over the items thoughtfully,
took some measurements with a ruler saying.  "Holmes, you might have
something here, you've just gone & saved our weekend camp," as a resounding
cheer went up from the boys, he took down a list which read= Quarter inch
steel rod or 6 inch nails for tent pegs, huge ball of strong twine, broom
handles, tubing, more groundsheets or gas capes, try asking the RAF? &
every boy had to state whether he had either an ex military groundsheet,
gas cape or both, as luck would have it most of the boys had both.  The
school metalwork master cut the tubing & the rod to size bending the ends
over whilst the woodwork master cut the broom handles to length, fitted the
tubes & pinned them, my father arranged for the loan of a number of
groundsheets from the RAF, & come the day we had more than enough for our
bivouacs making each one out of 3 groundsheets & gas cape permutations,
each boy kept one 2 piece pole & thankfully with the good weather we all
had a great camp that weekend after which the period known as the phoney
war was coming to an end.


To be continued.