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.