The Infamous Five on Kipper Island
by Tom

And now for something completely different – I hope you will read this short introduction, since if you are not familiar with the original stories the ensuing pastiche may sound like gibberish – although it could well do that anyway!

Since the 1950’s, probably millions of English boys have read the Famous Five or Secret Seven series of children’s adventures, from which at least three television series have been spawned. Basically, the stories revolve around privileged, middle class, asexual children who have highly improbable holiday adventures with the obligatory happy ending. It might even be worth seeking out a sample of an original story to put this decidedly irreverent adaptation into context, to which I will but add, if only this  had been around when I was reading the original stories!

Naturally all the usual caveats and dire health warnings apply, so you read this at your peril and should be aware that no representation of any person, animal, cadaver, mineral or vegetable, including the large beta vulgaris rubra is intended. However, should you recognise yourself at some point in the narrative, perchance in relation to a particularly unwholesome actus reus or in conjunction with any of the aforementioned just think yourself very, very lucky to be included!

Finally, as ever, all comments, ideas, suggestions, good bad or indifferent are always welcome – my apologies in advance for any typo’s you may spot. Enjoy.

tom
amias09@fastmail.fm

 

The Infamous Five on Kipper Island
Chapter 1: Land ho!

The story thus far.

In a timeless, quintessentially English setting where idyllic childhoods were the norm and predatory adults did not unduly proliferate, everything was truly perfect, quite perfect. Against all the odds even the English weather was equally perfect and it was under such cloudless blue skies many a young adventurer had been known to quench his rapacious adolescent sexual appetite.

Freed from the confines of their boarding schools for the summer holidays, three such overtly middle class and distinctly precocious children were so obnoxious that on their return home, their parents were quickly reminded just why they had been sent to boarding school in the first place. The answer was to have them immediately despatched to stay with their favourite uncle, the mad scientist Uncle Quentin, his wife Fanny and their very hairy, adopted daughter Georgina at Kipper Cottage in darkest Devon.

Uncle Quentin and Aunt Fanny were not a typical couple, for if they were honest they had really only married to abide by the terms of a large inheritance and so keep it within their grasp, adopting Georgina had been a tactical necessity. Aunt Fanny, in a previous life been a shapely physical education teacher with a preference for similar energetic lady friends, sadly though her trim figure was no more having developed  extremely large, pendulous breasts through over exertion with a hockey stick. Quentin, an only child and the product of a once only coupling by very strict, religious parents had been sent to boarding school at a young age. Fortuitously he had been brought out of himself when he was discovered in the choir by the school chaplain, a bachelor of ill repute who was always on the look for singular boys in need of a helping hand to reach the upper octaves at the back of the choir.

By way of the vast inheritance Uncle Quentin was fabulously rich and owned Kipper Island, an idyllic safe haven not that far from the mainland where nobody could interfere with the children, that was other than uncle Quentin himself. Besides, it wasn’t just any old island for it was a modest offshore acreage with superb sandy beaches offering many intimate places where the children would play, usually with each other. And, if uncle Quentin were not already blessed with several fascinating perversions, good fortune and a huge bank balance, he was by sheer chance about to make even more money. For as luck would have it, the island was awaiting the outcome of a planning appeal for two huge blocks of luxury flats and a somewhat modest seven hundred and twenty-three berth marina complex with clubhouse.

For many varied and generally unspoken reasons involving a suspended sentence and what was essentially blackmail, Uncle Quentin had in the past been obliged by his brother Cedric, the children’s father, to take them for long summer holidays. Consequently, Quentin had found the island to be the ideal place to relegate the self-opinionated, irritating, over sexed young visitors especially if they brought a dog with them. That said, he had discovered there were certain material, voyeuristic  advantages in having the overactive, pubescent children around him for his mood would soften and his cock would harden, especially where the boys were concerned. Naturally for their visit the weather promised, as in all such children’s stories to be invariably perfect and sunny, thus allowing them to have many exciting and usually incestuous adventures camping on Kipper Island without any supervision.

 

The children were led by nearly thirteen year old Julian who was forever grasping his spluttering cock through his bespoke tan coloured shorts and invariably spunk splattered Aertex underwear. His nearly eleven year old brother Dick, a true dick both by name and nature was constantly struggling to make his own cock splatter like Julian’s into his Aertex underwear, yet despite very energetic, nightly joint efforts they had so far failed. They had though managed to keep the secret of what boys did with their willy’s well away from their ten year old sister Anne who had lately been creeping up on them at the most inopportune of moments. The truth was, it was down to her super-sensitive hearing and girly hormones, for in common with many girls Anne had a thing about riding ponies and if none were available would revert to the process of self-discovery aided by her trusty hairbrush. It was at her exclusive all girls boarding school she had perfected the act and was something to be invariably enjoyed at lights out. Quite naturally, several particularly friendly girls couldn’t resist climbing on her bed to ride each other with hairbrush in hand pretending they were ponies and entered in the evening’s ritual eleven-fifteen Orgasmic Stakes.

The fourth member, was of course their twelve year old cousin Georgina who despite being brought up as a girl was having some incredibly serious gender issues, as typified by his\her very hairy girly bits and the growth of a thick moustache. So, it was no great surprise that he\she now thought of herself as a boy called George who really enjoyed playing with his\her back bottom as much as with his\her front bottom and just couldn’t wait to introduce the younger Anne to such carnal delights.

Of course, as was traditional, the fifth member of the clan was canine, usually four  legged and answered to the name of Timmy. Unfortunately, regrettably, sadly even, poor Timmy had once been bitten by uncle Quentin’s pet anaconda Snapper and had contracted the scabrous mange in exchange for one of his back legs. Thus he was despatched to the canine hospital for the terminally pallid and was very lucky in not lasting very long. Thus he was able to escape being literally dragged around on more boring kids adventures where his dangly pink bits were constantly examined by eager little hands, particularly those of George and Dick’s. However, for the band of intrepid young adventurer’s there was some good canine news in that George’s neighbours having realised that the children were due to arrive had very astutely decided to take a holiday and left their dog called Pooper with George to look after.

 

So the scene was set. Uncle Quentin had been up early that day, in fact he was invariably up regardless of the time of day. Now mid Sunday afternoon, he was waiting on the platform leaning against a pile of wooden boxes smoking a Turkish cigarette and eyeing up the very plump, very youthful bottom of the bespectacled fifteen, nearly sixteen year old Ned Wadlekins, the station’s apprentice porter. It was a demanding job with a very short apprenticeship of only two years, Ned with the brain of a twelve year old, but the sexual capacity of a rabid donkey really enjoyed the work. Especially, during the ritual cleaning the toilets when his floppy, thick cock had been known to make many an unscheduled appearance in the hope of catching a visitor’s eye or hand. During some of those very rewarding moments in the said Gentleman’s convenience he would occasionally, discretely meet some charming regular travellers, having more testosterone than was good for him and Ned didn’t mind who or what he coupled with so long as he could ejaculate. In fact, rumour had it he had been known to even enjoin with prize vegetables, especially marrows awaiting despatch on the platform. Essentially he was only too willing to sow his sticky seed far and wide, although unfortunately more often than not by accident in his underwear, that was when he was actually wearing any.

A faint whistle heralded the arrival of the three forty-two, they both looked up to see  the chimney smoke of the approaching train in the distance. With Uncle Quentin being in such close proximity Ned’s antennae had been twitching for he could sense when he was being watched. As the scented tobacco smoke drifted in his direction he pushed a hand deep in his pocketless trouser pocket to adjust what could only be a sticky erection hidden by the thick, ill fitting porters uniform. Sensing the overtly testosterone tinted aura of Ned’s sexual excesses, Uncle Quentin had become quite aroused and moved a little closer, blowing yet more smoke in Ned’s direction. Picking up the children that Sunday was just what Uncle Quentin had needed as an excuse to visit the station for he had heard some days earlier from his very good friend Sidney, the curate at the village church that the plump youth might oblige if he needed some cash in a hurry. Or, even if he was not in a hurry.

“Arrr, train’s here then,” Porter Ned looked at Uncle Quentin with a knowing smile, “them posh kids is coming again then is they?”

“I do wish you’s stop saying Arrr,” said Uncle Quentin, “not all villagers around here speak like that!”

“Arrr, oh they do.” Village Ned stroked his cock through his pocket opening. “Arrr.”

“Hurrrummpph!” went Uncle Quentin in his pink silk boxers.

“Arrr, so they’s going on that there island then is ‘em?”

“Yes, they’ll want to go on the island, they love it there.” Quentin made a point of looking down at the stocky youth’s trousers, a hand was definitely moving around in the pocketless pocket.

“Arrr, no adults or nothing, it’s just them is it?” Erect Ned’s hand knew it was being watched. “I ‘spose they’ll be going there looking for the treasure again then? Arrr.”

“That’s right just them and probably a bloody dawg!” Uncle Quentin stubbed out the cigarette without taking his eyes off the moving trousers. “They didn’t find it last year, probably because it doesn’t exist!”

“Arrr, oh no, no I’m sure it’s there, oh arrr, I mean that’s wot people round here says innit, that there’s pirates treasure be buried someplace on that island. Arrr.”

“Arrr..” Uncle Quentin was now getting into character, for he wanted to get inside Ned’s trousers. Plainly Ned’s brain was being overstretched, as was his cock, “well, I think it’s an old wives tale, just where is it buried then? Isn’t it supposed to be somewhere by those old ruins?”

“Arrr.. that wot our old granny says.” Ned nodded vigorously in time to the vigorous stroking he was giving himself through his trouser pocket, not quite so vigorous as to make his glasses fall off. “And, I could help them children find it if they wanted.”

“You’ll have to ask them that yourself, you’ve met them before though haven’t you?”

Uncle Quentin’s perverted thoughts were now running riot. Just what could Ned, the two pubescent boys, their randy little sister and the transgender George get up too if all were marooned on the island. It could be worth putting up with a few Arrr’s.

“Arrr and, you knows I’m always.. uumm..” Randy Ned struggled hard to find the words, in fact any words sufficient to complete any sentence, “arrr, uumm.. I’m available, yeah I’m available if you… or they wants their bags or that carried about.”

“Oh yes, I know.. available.” said Quentin still watching the moving pocket. “Come  here, stand by these boxes to face me and pretend we’re having a conversation.”

“Arrr. Blah, blah, blah!” Ned grinned as he moved, he knew the score exactly. “Now, sod the conversation, I’ll take it up me bum for a quid, we can’t be seen here!”

“I can’t afford a quid… hmmm.. oohhh… you are a big boy aren’t you?” murmured Uncle Quentin looking around, his smooth artist hand kneading the front of Ned’s trousers. “When I get shot of these bloody kids, I’ll call back round here, it’ll have to be in a day or two though.”

“Arrr. We both knows I makes a gert load of spunk, so if you give us ten bob and stick your hand in me pocket and you can wank us off right now ‘cause I ain’t got no pocket anyhow!” Nawty Ned knew it was his bottom he was really selling, but this was an introductory sort of special bottom line offer. He glanced up to the station clock, the boxes were shielding them both from view. “We got three minutes before the train gets here!”

“Ten bob! No! Five bob! Are you going to cum for that?”

“Course I’m going to bloody cum! But it’s ten bob, so get your hand in quick then!”

“Five bob!”

“Seven and six or I’ll cum in me trousers!”

“But you’re going to cum anyway!”

“Arrr and I’ll cum in me trousers wotever so it’s seven and bloody six!”

 

“I say Julian, I can see the station,” cried Dick excitedly leaning out the carriage window. He pressed his erection hard against the vibrating door handle, even his latest visit to the train toilet having failed to produce anything by way of the tiniest ejaculation, “do you think Uncle Quentin will be there to meet us.”

“I’m sure he won’t have forgotten.. us boys.”

Julian shuffled on the seat for he was a six-a-day boy, more concerned with his cock for it was feeling a mite sore after completing its fourth express ejaculation of the journey and all in the very same train toilet where Dick had failed. Now in dire need of a gentle massage with some form of cock salve he wasn’t sure what to do as the more he cosseted it the harder it appeared to get.

Anne meanwhile was wondering if Aunt Fanny would be taking both her and George on another one of her exciting nature rambles. It was so strange they always managed to somehow get wet and have to partly undress which would enable George to display his\her very hairy girly bits and then Aunt Fanny would vigorously rub them down with a very rough towel whether they were wet or not. Under cover of her floral cotton dress Anne had a hand beneath the elastic of her navy blue, thick school knickers, somehow she just had to find out why she didn’t have a bulge that could get bigger as Julian seemed to have. She quickly determined to continue secretly watching him especially when he was in pyjamas.

“Oh Julian, do come and see if he’s there.” Dick turned round, he winked and blatantly pushed himself even harder against the door handle.

“Oh, oh I see…”

Suddenly realising it was an invitation he quickly stood up, the bulge in his shorts immediately noticed by Anne who lately had been noticing a lot of bulges, but had yet to really find out what it was that caused them. Moving to stand right behind the vibrating Dick on the door handle, Julian forced himself onto him, his cock pushing the soft material of the pale blue shorts partly into his brothers crack. On the pretext of steadying himself, Julian arm snaked around Dick’s chest and out of Anne’s line of sight pushed down past the elasticated waistband and inside the shorts. The Aertex briefs offered no resistance to the invading fingers which first stroked the hairless balls then wrapped themselves around Dick’s erection before starting to toy with it.

“Once we get on the island and in our little tent,” whispered Julian, “we can wank all the time until you can cum.”

“But what about the girls?”

“Well I expect they must do something, but they haven’t got willy’s though have they?” replied Julian naively. “I expect George can do something because he\she’s older than Anne, besides I think she’s been putting things up her front bottom!”

“Is that how girls do it?” asked Dick. “Push something up their front bottom?”

Being more of a boy of the world than his younger brother, Julian thought he had worked it all out and therefore had the answer.

“I jolly think so. Well they’ll be doing something like it together won’t they? I mean, I listened outside their tent last year and it sounded like George had her hand in a bucket of custard and she was wanting Anne to help her stir it!”

“Golly! I wonder where they got the bucket!” exclaimed Dick, having far less of a clue as to what could have actually been happening than Julian did. “Sounds jolly well all pretty yukky to me. Oh I do so wish my pants were messy like yours are.”

“Actually, mine are a still a tiny bit sticky!” whispered Julian giggling. “I could squirt into yours later if you really wanted some sticky stuff in them!”

“Oh I say! I’d love that!” Dick beamed. “Really! Maybe tonight then?”

“I say Julian,” called out Anne, pausing to withdraw her hot sticky fingers, “we will continue looking for the treasure on the island won’t we?”

“I should say so,” replied Julian pushing himself onto Dick, he wondered if he might just make it five orgasms before the train arrived, “I mean we’ve never had a proper hols without a decent adventure yet, have we?”

“No and, and, and George has got another dawg to bring,” continued Anne very excitedly. “I wonder what it’s like.”

“I hope it’s a boy dawg!” said Dick to himself recalling the time he had had Timmy contained in his tent for a surprisingly very messy half an hour.

On the platform Uncle Quentin licked his fingers and watched as the train pulled in to the platform. Still standing by the boxes Sticky Ned was rather awkwardly rearranging himself since his thick railway porter issue trousers had been pulled right up between his buttocks. He was having some difficulty in fastening his fly since the buttons were all somewhat slippery and the thick, if very absorbent material of his porters uniform was unyielding.

Once the children had clambered down from the carriage and rushed over to be greeted by Uncle Quentin the boys soon felt his roving hands over their bottoms, Julian smiled appreciatively whereas Dick didn’t quite realise the significance, but nevertheless enjoyed the strong, suntanned digit forcing his shorts into his crack. Having gathered up all the luggage and taken further stock of the younger boy’s pocket movements Uncle Quentin slowly led the way from the platform to his car with Porter Ned struggling far behind with all the bags and his sticky trousers.

“Arrr.. if you wanted some help to find that treasure I could maybe help.” said Ned as he finally neared the car, he dropped the bags in a heap and pushed a hand in his pocket to placate his partially engorged organ now adhering to the inside of his trousers. “I mean if it was buried deep down or, or something.”

“So what do you know about the treasure, it’s a secret.” snapped Dick haughtily.

“Arrr, I knows a lot, that’s why I’m whispering.” said Pirate Ned mysteriously in his pirate voice, he watched Dick’s hand in his pocket. “I could help you find it and the treasure!”

“What? You? Could you? How?” asked Dick excitedly. “Do you know where it is then?”

“Hhhmmm..” uttered Julian, staring at the lump in Ned’s moving trousers and then down to note that he couldn’t even see any sign of a bulge in his own shorts!

“Arrr, maybe.” Spunky Ned winked. “Thing is, after today I’m on holiday for the next week ‘cause me intensive porter’s residential college training course has been cancelled. So I could help, see and me old granny knows a thing or two.”

“Oh does she,” said Dick, “about anything in particular?”

“Cheeky git!” thought Ned, he nodded knowingly. “Arrr young master she do that.”

Dick digested the answer slowly, what could his old granny possibly know?

Intrigued, Julian looked at him in his best condescending, private school, middle class way just as though Ned had just crawled out from under a stone or had possibly been masturbating in a railway station public convenience with a man in a long mac who had a thing about young hooray boys in stained Aertex underwear.

“And, of course you all know Ned anyway don’t you? He’s local and knows more about the tales of the treasure than I do.” confirmed Uncle Quentin enthusiastically, already imagining catching Ned and Julian in a tent doing naughty things to each other. “I think it might be a good idea, after all he knows the island as well.”

“Oh, I don’t know.. uumm…” began Julian in a very superior manner, he then paused, his gaze again fixed on the happenings in Ned’s baggy trousers where it looked as though one hand was trying to manipulate something large trapped inside, “well we’ll.. we’ll have to talk it over and we’ll let him know won’t we Dick?”

“What about me?” squeaked Anne.

Nawty Ned looked and then said to himself. “Arrr and I’ll have your knickers off as well Miss Snotty!”

“Yes, you too.. I suppose Anne!” said Julian sniffily.

“And George.” snapped Anne. “And, and the dawg.”

“I say Julian, you know Uncle Quentin might be jolly well right, be spiffing to have some help with the digging if we did find it!” Dick was attempting to replicate Ned’s trouser gyrations and visualise him naked, would he have a jolly big, sticky willy?

“Well whatever we decide he couldn’t stay overnight on the island because we only have the two tents. Don’t we Uncle Quentin?” said Julian in his condescending voice, prior to committing an act that was so characteristic of being a superior, privately educated, middle class boy by way of blatantly playing with himself through his shorts pocket.

“Hhmmm…” Sticky Ned didn’t miss much where cocks were concerned. “Arrr…”

“I think you ought to really consider that offer of help Julian,” Uncle Quentin watching Julian then quickly caught Ned’s eye, “he might be able to help.”

“Oh Arrr, I’d really like to help alright.” replied Boy Fancier Ned taking the cue. “I’ve got a small tent that I could bring.”

“In fact,” said Uncle Quentin, “d’you know what? Thinking about this, there might even be another tent in the loft, might even sleep three…”

“Oh arrr, three?” said Country Yokel Ned. “Be purrfect. Arrr.”

“Heavens! How absolutely fortuitous.” exclaimed Julian precociously, both eyes now firmly fixed on Ned’s moving trousers. “I say Dick, let’s have a look after tea.”

Nothing much else was said as the children and their luggage were swiftly bundled up into the Rolls. They then set off Kipper Cottage where Aunt Fanny had prepared a very high class, high tea with lashings of ginger pop and all manner of typically spoilt, middle class children’s delicacies.

“I say there’s some Battenberg cake!” squeaked Anne pointing with very same finger that had so recently been inside her moist school knickers.

“And look.. oh golly! There are some Russian buckwheat pancakes with caviar!” added Dick, pointing with the very same finger that had so recently been pushed too deeply between his legs. “I love those, don’t you Uncle Quentin?”

“Oh yes.” Uncle Quentin smiled sweetly. “My word you are educated!”

“I actually prefer the caviar with blinis, they are not so messy.” said Julian who couldn’t point for his hand, under the table was down the front of his shorts trying to sort out the residual, even stickier mess from four episodes in the train’s toilet.

George smiled and said nothing, for he\she was eying up a banana in the fruit bowl and debating whether to purloin it for use his\her’s front or rear bottom later.

Aunt Fanny leant over the table to reach the Wedgwood tea pot and nearly knocked everything over with one of her giant swinging mammaries as she did so. “Now George you must show Anne where everything is after tea as you’ll be sharing your bedroom with her.”

“Certainly will mummy.” replied George smiling. “That will be fun won’t it Anne?”

“Oh golly gosh, yes.” Anne was rather tempted to put her hand back where it had been earlier, but maybe after she had eaten her cake. “What sort of thing?”

“Oh, you’ll find out!” George giggled, despite the enormity and absorbent qualities of his\her huge bush things were starting to get a little damp down below. “D’you know I’ve certainly discovered a couple of things you didn’t see on your last visit.”

“And of course you two boys will be sharing as well.” said Uncle Quentin. “Now tomorrow, if that other tent is there, well then you might have Ned sharing as well.”

“I say,” said Dick, “I actually think it would be rather sooper if Ned did come you know, he could show us a few things… I expect.”

“I’m sure he could,” agreed Uncle Quentin, “and be only too pleased to do so!”

If Ned were there he would have heartily agreed. “Arrr.”

“On the island you mean,” interrupted Julian, his spunky fingers suddenly appearing and inadvertently sticking to a plump sausage roll, “yes, actually Dick I think you‘re quite right, I’m sure he could show us a few new things.”

“And besides,” added Dick, “if it rains, there will be more of us to play in the tent!”

“Absolutely, I’m sure the three of you could think up something to do!” Uncle Quentin smiled benignly.

 

As only to be expected, the following morning dawned beautifully warm and sunny, in fact just as it always did in a children’s story, which allowed for a positive hive of activity at Kipper Cottage. The children were so excited at the thought of their trip to the island that they were all buzzing around like busy little bees packing the Rolls with all they needed. Uncle Quentin had already stowed the tents into the capacious boot for the trip and was eagerly watching the boys bend down to push in even more where they could.

“I say Julian,” said Dick, “I do wonder if that Ned is going to come with us, I do hope he does.”

“Well he could certainly help with the digging couldn’t he?” as ever Julian sounded patronising. “He looks quite… uumm… strong.”

“Yes rather, he does look rather muscular,” mused Dick, “I wonder what he will wear if he does? I say Uncle have you seen him without his railway porters uniform, I mean does he have nice smart, expensive casual clothes like what we do?”

“Probably not,” replied Uncle Quentin dreamily, “but I’m very interested to see.”

Anne giggled. “You mean without any clothes… oh how absolutely nawty!”

“I hadn’t thought of that!” Dick giggled and then felt his dick through his pocket.

“Hhmm… I had!” thought Julian having already felt his dick through his pocket. “And I will tonight with any luck!”

“Oh golly… look…” Dick was pointing up the lane to the approaching figure, “I rather think that’s him!”

“Jolly good… oh yah… oh look, look he’s got some shorts on… and they’re the same colour as yours Julian!” called out Anne. “I’m surprised he actually owns any, well, I mean being from working class and all that!”

“Quite so.” agreed Julian. “Not the sort of dress for somebody in his position as a mere trainee porter! I’d have thought he would have had some of those cheap jeans with zips on the pockets!”

“And they’re not a nice tailored fit like yours Julian… they look rather full!”

Dick excitedly grabbed the front of his own blue shorts, even at a distance his young eyes saw that Ned’s tan shorts were so badly cut as to be exceptionally tight around the bulging crotch, if decidedly loose around the legs.

“Phew!” gasped Julian, his average four inches paling into Aertex insignificance.

Anne didn’t know what to say, except that. “Oh whizzo! Oh look… now here’s George and he\she’s coming with the dawg.”

“Damn, another bloody dawg,” muttered Uncle Quentin under his breath, “it better not shit in the Rolls like that other bloody thing did!”

“I say, look I’ve brought Pooper.” announced George proudly. Pooper was a sort of average dog, so average that it frequently turned its head to check its lipstick.

“Oh whizzo.” repeated Anne vacantly. “Is she very old?”

Dick sighed. Anne could be so very annoyingly thick at times. Pooper, a she? Dick looked again to confirm that he was seeing something hanging between its legs, he thought of Timmy lying on his back in the tent the previous holiday and flushed.

“Arrr,” said Oversexed Ned walking up to stand by Julian, “see I did get here.”

“Ned, have you met George?” asked Uncle Quentin looking between the two.

“Arrr. No.” Ned eyed George up and down, with his\her boy’ style haircut and jeans with zips on the pockets he\she looked possibly to be either a boy or a girl. “Arrr.”

“Hhmm.”

George looked in envy at Ned wishing he\she had some dangly bits as well, there was a marked difference between Julian in his expertly cut expensive shorts with absolutely nothing to show and Ned with a huge sackful of potatoes out front. Arousing in fact, Ned was obviously a real boy not like Julian with his skinny little offering, although on Ned’s part he was wondering whether George was a he or a she, but it didn’t matter for he’d have him\her anyway!

On seeing Big Ned’s revealing shorts even Uncle Quentin’s cock had lurched within his pink, silk boxers. “Glad you decided to come Ned?”

“Arrr, I did earlier, oh arrr!” Ned grinned, Uncle Quentin winked and thereafter the joke fell on stony ground.

“Yes, I can imagine! Well let’s get all this stuff loaded so we can get you all down to the boat, eh?” Uncle Quentin moved towards the car. “As it’s such a large back seat, Ned why don’t you sit in the middle, then the others can sit either side with the dawg on the floor, it’s only a ten minute ride.

By design Anne found herself firmly wedged into a corner with what she could only guess was George’s hand gently burrowing up under her dress, Ned was in the middle next to George with Julian and with Dick in the other side. Once the car was moving Ned found his bare leg was making considerable contact with Julian who’s leg was pushing against him, squeezed into the other corner was Dick with Julian’s hand trying to push past the elasticated waistband of his blue shorts to get inside!

By the time they arrived at slipway where the dinghy was moored all three boys had serious erections, Anne would have been extra moist if she could and George most definitely had steaming girly knickers or at least he\she would have, had he\she not been wearing Y-fronts as part of his\her total transgender transitioning!

“I say Ned,” said Julian in his typically superior manner, “I don’t suppose you have done much sailing this season what with being a trainee porter and all that?”

“We have a flotilla of dinghies at our boarding school, on the local reservoir, they’re thirteen foot Firepharts with extra tholepins,” interrupted Dick precociously, albeit knowingly, “and we have sailing once a week if the weather is good enough don’t we Julian?”

Julian nodded, he waited purposely for Ned’s reply as they continued with the boat transfer.

“Arrr, no,” replied Ned in his universal country yokel and\or seafaring riposte guise, despite his NHS glasses he was not quite as garrulous as he appeared, “but I come across a nice young sailor at the station once!”

Uncle Quentin smiled. Further stony ground.

Eventually everything was loaded. Pirate Ned, with considerable trepidation was the last to board and made an admission which really pleased the far superior Julian who was to take the helm. “I ain’t been on a boat before and I don’t like water.”

“Not any boat?” squeaked Anne. “Oh what! Oh I say, really!”

“Oh. I see.” Julian had automatically assumed that every school had its own flotilla and that included even lowly villages inhabited by local peasant stock.

Semen Ned shook his head, Pooper licked his lipstick, Dick desperately wanted to ejaculate, George wanted his\her hairbrush, Julian really needed a wank and Anne’s thick blue knickers drooped.

“But sailing’s such spiffing fun!” said Dick beckoning to Ned. “Now come on, come up here in the prow, we can leave Julian and George to do the sailing.”

“Arrr. Up you’re wot? Prow?”

“Cast orff and belay the rope… set sail for over there…” shouted Cap’n Julian to First Mate\Mistress George along with some other incomprehensible nautical jargon that he’d read in a Captain Pugwash book.

“Julian will get us there, don’t worry.” said Dick, looking again at Ned’s shorts.

“I ain’t worried… yet!” replied Predator Ned having quickly determined that Dick was all but ready to be taken firmly in hand.

In the prow, sitting together and facing the water nobody could really hear what was being said. Ned was hoping to advance his chances since he definitely hadn’t wanted to become water bound without some sexual recompense, it looked as though Dick with his small dick were the most gullible to fulfil that immediate idea.

“Gor, these shorts is tight round me willy!” began Semen Ned shuffling on the wooden seat and grabbing handfuls of squishy genitalia to re-arrange matters.

“Golly gosh!” exclaimed Dick looking in amazement at the lumpy bits outlined by the tight shorts. “Maybe it’s caught in your pants.”

“I ain’t got none on… I don’t think!” replied Ned absent mindedly, actually lying.

“Heavens. Gosh how, how… doesn’t… oh!” shocked, Dick was stuck for words.

“Anyhow, feels good without none!” Ned grinned. “You have then?”

“But of course. Aertex, mummy say’s they’re very healthy because they ventilate.”

“Y’wot? Ventilate?  Never heard it called that before! Well, I dunno about that, but you wants to try it… shall we take ’em off now?”

“No, no don’t be silly, somebody might see!”

Dick was now giggling, could this be the very opportunity he had been waiting for, to further enquire about the mysteries of masturbation. Unable to keep his hand out of his own pocket he pointed towards Ned’s various lumpy protuberances.

“Is all that your willy?”

“Ain’t yours that big then!” Predator Ned was pretending to be even dimmer than he appeared, which didn’t take lot except where latent sex was concerned. Adjusting his glasses he bent over for a very close look at Dick’s shorts. “Let’s hava feel then!”

Before Dick could say dick, Ned’s hand was worming its way up the leg of the blue shorts, Dick soon started to giggle. “I say, you won’t rub it or anything will you?”

“Arrr, only if you wants and only if you rubs mine.” the stitching on Ned’s shorts around the crotch was fast reaching breaking point, whereas the fit around the legs appeared very slack. “Hurry up then, get your hand up me leg.”

“I say, rather!”

Meanwhile at the stern, Captain Julian and Seaperson George had begun to exchange nautical niceties about casting orff and other such boating things. Anne was spellbound, watching Pooper checking his expandable red lipstick which raised that question again, did the boys have a similar lipstick? Maybe George would know, he\she certainly knew his\her way around girly front and back holes, as had been quickly confirmed by their extensive joint probing the very night before.

Back at the prow Dick was sat very close to Ned, despite having very small hands, if unfortunately a very small dick, he had managed by dint of sheer determination to get a hold on Ned’s throbbing cock via the leg of the shorts.

“Oh I’m so pleased you have come on this trip.” gushed Dick, if a little breathless since his own dick was being very, very energetically manipulated by Ned’s very, very experienced fingers. “Oh be careful I don’t want a Chinese burn on my willy!”

“Arrr, I ain’t cum yet, but I will do… won’t be long,” gasped Able Semen Ned assuming it was an invitation, “just keep rubbing the end of me cock then….”

“Oh golly! Whatever is this stuff! What’s happening?” gasped Dick a few seconds later, he suddenly sat up for an awful lot of something hot and slimy was beginning to run between his little clammy fingers and down Ned’s leg.

“Don’t, don’t take your hand off now… just keep bloody rubbing it!” there was an urgency in Ned’s voice, his glasses wobbled, his cock being only part way through emptying it’s colossal load. “I’m cumming!”

“Yes, right, oh yes!” mesmerised, Dick carried excitedly on although a little worried since it was never so messy when he rubbed Julian’s cock and he climaxed. “Oh! Oh golly… it’s all over me!””

“Aawwwww…” groaned Ned, his glasses really steamed up, his cock lurched and spewed mountains of spunk, it dripped down to the floor, “well don’t bloody stop!”

“Oooohhh… ooohh… oh what is all this slimy stuff? Oh I say, what is happening!”

“It’s more cum innit!” gasped Ned going into overdrive and applying every ounce of his masturbatory technique to Dick’s dick as his own continued to spurt forth.

“And… and now I’m getting a funny… a funny feeling!” squeaked Dick in panic, he began to shake. “Mummy! Oh mummy! Oh no, no! Ned what have you done to me!”

Chapter 2 to follow

 

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