Back at her home Wendy was still coming to terms with the afternoon’s events. She could hardly believe what she’d seen, but it had all happened… happened in front of her very eyes! She sat and savoured every delicious detail from the moment she’d arrived at Mrs Park’s house for a first date with Francis, Mrs Park’s son, at sixteen years old her eldest child. Wendy, by nature a punctual person had made sure she was on time for her date, but was surprised to be asked to wait in the hall while a ‘family conference’ was held in the front-room.
Wendy had no idea what a family conference entailed, but she thought it must have been important… important enough to involve her date, Francis, meaning their time together would be delayed, but not, she was assured, postponed. No matter, Wendy thought, as she heard Francis’ voice coming from the front-room, just the other side of the door on the opposite side of the hall.
As Mrs Park’s voice grew more strident it became clear to Wendy that Francis must be the object of he mother’s tirade. Now Wendy was curious to know what was being said and moved nearer to the closed door to the front-room. She managed to hear snippets on conversation and more than once the phrase “...your game of Cowboys and Indians” directed at Francis. Wendy tried to imagine a boy of sixteen like Francis being involved in such a childish game. Did he organise games for younger boys? She hardly dared think that Francis might actually participate in these games, however much it thrilled her to do so. There could be no doubting the frisson of excitement it caused her as she eagerly waited to hear more. However, just as Wendy was speculating on what role Francis might have in the games of Cowboys and Indians, she heard Mrs Park’s raised voice shout: “Francis! Control yourself!”
What now! Wendy thought. What had Francis done? Wendy was becoming desperate to know more. At this point in the proceedings Wendy had no idea Francis had been ordered to report for the family conference dressed in his Red Indian outfit and was, at that very moment, standing with his hands clasped behind his head facing his mother and his two younger sisters, Sarah and Sam. Dressed in nothing more than a pair of moccasins, a headband complete with a long, colourful feather, armbands and, most shameful of all, a loincloth flap that was so small it didn’t properly cover his genitals, Francis was plagued by thoughts of his date, Wendy, seeing him in such a humiliating costume. But Wendy, standing outside the room, didn’t know this, since she hadn’t yet seen Francis wearing his ludicrous, skimpy play outfit, an outfit that even younger boys were embarrassed to wear.
Then fate had played a hand as Sarah was sent to fetch a punishment strap from its hook in the kitchen. Wendy had quickly moved back from her listening post, but as Sarah opened the door Wendy caught a glimpse of Francis as he stood to attention, hands behind his head, in the middle of the front-room. It was a sight that took her breath away and she became more determined than ever to find out all about Francis and his games of Cowboys and Indians.
She didn’t have that long to wait. After listening to the repeated crack! of the strap as it blistered Francis’ bare bottom; after hearing his howls and squeals of protest; after hearing Francis jumping and dancing around the front-room and finally hearing him sent to to face the wall for a period of corner-time to reflect upon his misdeeds, Wendy was admitted into the front-room.
Understandably Francis was mortified to discover how Wendy had been waiting in the hall outside and had heard the entire family conference. But Wendy hadn’t laughed at him standing helpless and forlorn in his ridiculous, humiliating Red Indian outfit. She took stock of Francis’ costume; the headband with its single bright feather, the colourful armbands, the moccasins and, most of all, the startlingly flimsy loincloth. Wendy was nothing if not discrete and didn’t appear to notice how this tiny loincloth flap had slipped to one side leaving Francis’ penis partially uncovered… she didn’t even seem to notice the lack of pubic hair. Or so Francis thought, as Wendy wiped his face with a damp face-cloth.
As Mrs Park observed: “It’s not many girls who’d be prepared to wait while we had our little conference. She must think a lot of you, Francis… so thank her nicely for wiping your messy face.”
Wendy was moved when she saw the expression on Francis’ face. She saw how helpless he must have felt in front of her, how utterly ashamed he obviously was to be seen wearing his little Red Indian play outfit. And then, when Francis glanced at his mother, the look he gave, a look of pleading to be spared his humiliation, almost broke Wendy’s heart.
But Wendy knew Francis was all she’d hoped him to be… and so much more! She smiled a sympathetic smile and spoke: “Oh, it’s nothing Mrs Parks… I like to help,” she paused and added, “besides I think Francis looks really sweet dressed in his Red Indian outfit… kind of cute don’t you think?”
Both Sarah and Sam had a fit of the giggles when they heard what Wendy had said, but Francis was mortified as Wendy added, “I hope you won’t think I’m being too forward, Mrs Parks, but I think Francis is one of those boys who just doesn’t want to grow up…”
“Yes, he loves playing Cowboys and Indians,” Sarah said and Francis almost exploded, it was so unfair. He hated being treated like a little boy, he was sixteen after all... but one look from mum put paid to any thoughts of rebellion Francis might have had.
Later at home that evening Wendy recalled the arrival of Christopher and how she found out the difference between the costumes worn by Red Indian tenderfoots and Indian Braves as the two boys stood side-by-side. Tenderfoots had no rear flap to their loincloths, so their bottoms were completely bare. However, although Indian Braves were allowed a flap it was so very small and thin that it left their bottoms almost as bare as the tenderfoots.
Mrs Harper had then explained how Francis and Christopher had been caught ‘helping’ each other try on each others’ costumes.
“What! Francis wanted to try on the tenderfoot outfit?!” Wendy gasped. She had already seen how small the buckskin flap was of Francis’ Red Indian outfit, but the flap on Christopher’s outfit was tiny in comparison! It couldn’t even properly cover Christopher’s boy-bits. Indeed Wendy could see the tip of Christopher’s foreskin peeking out from the bottom edge of the flap, to say nothing of the glimpse she had of his scrotum every time Christopher moved. As it was the loincloths of both boys were, out of necessity, worn so low that Wendy could see easily that neither Christopher nor Francis possessed any pubic hair. She could understand that Christopher was probably a ‘late developer’ in that respect, but she was intrigued to know why Francis was just as bald as Christopher at the base of his penis. She made a mental note to find out why.
“Yes, Wendy,” Mrs Park said, “Francis told us how he and Christopher simply couldn’t wait for the next game of Cowboys and Indians… the two boys, for reasons known only to themselves, decided to swap Red Indian outfits…”
“But surely Christopher’s tenderfoot outfit is far too small for Francis to wear?” Wendy again gasped as she pretended to be shocked at the very thought of the older boy wearing such a small buckskin flap.
“There’s one easy way to find out…” Mrs Parks said matter-or-factly.
“OH NO, MUM!! PLEASE!!” Francis wailed as he realised what this meant. He was silenced immediately when his mother reminded him that her discipline strap was still available for use on the side table where she’d placed it after Francis’ strapping earlier.
Wendy relished the thought of seeing Francis wearing the absurdly brief tenderfoot loincloth, but thought it prudent to give the impression she was sympathetic to Francis’ extreme embarrassment… after all she was his ‘date’ and she felt that on a first date a boy shouldn’t be nervous of her. Anyway, she thought, what does it matter if I take Francis’ side and plead for him to retain what little modesty he has, I’m only one against three; mum, Sarah and Sam.
Wendy was quite correct. Francis’ sisters were begging their mother to make the boys swap their loincloths. Wendy was outnumbered. Christopher would of course gain by the swap, so he wasn’t going to object to trading his tenderfoot loincloth for the slightly larger one with a rear flap worn by Francis.
“Please, Mrs Parks,” Wendy said in a voice that successfully managed to disguise her excitement, “Francis will be so embarrassed… I know he likes to dress up as a Red Indian and play games, but he’s not a tenderfoot… he’s sixteen years old, Mrs Parks. Think how shameful it will be for him to wear Christopher’s little loincloth… why, it hardly covers Christopher’s… er, bits… It would be simply awful for Francis to swap...”
Francis, among all the conflicting emotions he was feeling, at that precise moment fell head over heels in love with Wendy as he listened to her trying to dissuade his mother from making him swap loincloths with Christopher. What other girl would do that? Francis asked himself. Wendy must be really special to understand how embarrassed I feel, he thought as he he listened to her.
“That’s as maybe,” Mrs Parks replied, “As you rightly point out Francis is a teenager and as such is of an age to take responsibility for his actions. It’s no use his saying one thing and doing another… either he wants to dress up as a Red Indian and try on a tenderfoot costume, or he doesn’t… he can’t have it both ways…”
For a moment Francis thought there was an end to his humiliation in sight.
“... but on the basis of his behaviour as reported to me by Sam and Sarah,” Mrs Parks continued, “it would appear Francis thoroughly enjoys dressing up and playing Cowboys and Indians…”
Francis tried his best to plead with his mother that this wasn’t so. He looked toward Wendy for support and received a sympathetic smile that encouraged Francis to stand his ground. But it was of little use when his mother reminded him of the words he spoke earlier.
“Francis, not half an hour ago you told us how the two of you, Christopher and yourself, just got so excited at the thought of playing Cowboys and Indians again, that you both couldn’t wait to try on your play outfits,” she said.
It was Christopher’s turn to look surprised. He had no idea Francis had said this before he arrived. Like Francis the last thing Christopher wanted was to be forced to play another game of Cowboys and Indians, yet here was Francis committing them both to certain humiliation at the diabolical hands of Terry Harper. Although Christopher had lost all his clothes as a result of a stupid prank at the beginning of the holidays and had been nude… or as near as made no difference, ever since, it said something that he would rather stay nude than dress in the skimpy Red Indian outfit and be made to join in one of Terry’s games. In the first one of these games Christopher had been tied up by Terry’s cowboys and left suspended by his arms from the bough of a tree with his feet barely touching the ground. Mrs Harper had come to his rescue and during a hideously embarrassing conversation, Christopher had confessed to her, quite falsely, that he didn’t masturbate… words he had regretted saying as soon as they had left his lips.
Sarah grabbed hold of Wendy’s arm in excitement as Mrs Park told the boys to swap their loincloths. If they were too shy to do so in front of the girls, they could change in the hall as she wouldn’t want them to be embarrassed changing in front of everyone in the front-room.
“... but I want you back in here in two minutes precisely!” Mrs Parks said, making it clear there was to be no hanky-panky while the boys swapped loincloths.
Francis and Christopher left the room. Christopher was heard to hiss in Francis’ ear: “ What did you want to go and say that for? You’re mad if you think I want to play any more games of Cowboys and Indians...”
Sarah tugged Wendy’s arm: “The boys ‘embarrassed’… that’s a laugh,” she whispered, “Just wait till you see Francis’ face when he puts on the tenderfoot flap… it’s tiny!”
“That’s just so cruel…” Wendy replied, “haven’t you any sympathy at all for your poor brother? Can’t you see how red-faced he is already? It just doesn’t seem fair to torment him any further...” Sarah looked back at her disbelievingly before Wendy burst out laughing. It was clear Wendy couldn’t wait to see Francis wearing the tenderfoot loincloth!
In the hall, out of sight of the girls and Francis’ mother, the boys stood in front of each other and hesitated.
“It’s alright for you,” Christopher carried on, “you’ve got clothes to put on. I haven’t got any and Mrs Harper won’t buy me any. You know she took me shopping… wearing this.” Christopher gestured towards his loincloth, “... this Red Indian outfit… took me to the shops… said wearing this outfit out shopping with her was better than moping about the house in the nude…”
Far from expressing any sympathy for Christopher’s plight, all Francis could think about was appearing in the next couple of minutes wearing Christopher’s loincloth in front of Wendy… his date, the girl he’d waited so long to ask out and now she was going to see him wearing the skimpiest little loincloth imaginable.
“Come along boys! Time’s almost up!” Mrs Parks called from inside the front-room.
Christopher had already taken off his little loincloth and was holding it out for Francis. Quickly Francis took off his own loincloth and the boys swapped the flimsy pieces of buckskin. Francis needed to get as much coverage as possible from the ridiculously tiny leather flap which was all the tenderfoot loincloth consisted of, so he asked Christopher to help.
Francis stood up straight, “Can you see much?” he asked looking as worried as any sixteen year old boy would do who was about to walk into a room wearing nothing but a small piece of buckskin... a room in which his ‘girl’ was also waiting.
“Maybe if you pull it down a bit further…” Christopher suggested.
“But if I do that… jeez, you can see my nob… can’t you?”
“Er, I guess so… some of it… and, er…”
“And, ‘er…’ what?” Francis sounded desperate.
“Your balls,” Christopher said firmly.
“My balls?”
“Your balls,” Christopher confirmed.
“Jeez… why did it have to be today?”
Christopher look quizzically at Francis as he finished adjusting the Indian Brave loincloth he’d been handed . It felt good to feel the rear flap touching his bottom cheeks again. True, there wasn’t much to the rear flap, but it was a whole lot better than nothing at all.
Francis saw the look on Christopher’s face and tried to explain: “It’s taken me months to… to, well ask Wendy to be my date… and it had to be the day when mum decides… oh, never mind… you’ll understand one day when you’re older…”
Francis tried desperately to make last minute adjustments to the little flap that now rested on the broad length of his penis, but it was a hopeless task. To expect any more coverage was foolish. Even with the narrow flap pulled as low as possible and thereby drawing attention to his bald pubis, the head of Francis’ penis was perfectly visible. As if that wasn’t enough, due to the narrower tenderfoot loincloth, Francis’ balls could be seen quite clearly, as Christopher had already pointed out.
Francis was on the verge of a panic attack when the door to the hallway opened. It was Sarah: “Aren’t you two ready yet?” she asked. Her eyes nearly popped out when she saw the tiny tenderfoot loincloth her brother was wearing.
Christopher led the way into the front-room. With his heart thumping and nerves jangling, Francis followed as he fought to suppress an overwhelming desire to cup his hands between his legs.
“Come out from behind Christopher, Francis,” his mother said, “and let’s see why you were so keen to try on the tenderfoot costume.”
Gingerly Francis stepped out from behind Christopher and stood beside him. Francis glanced at Wendy, trying to gauge her reaction to his utterly humiliating Red Indian outfit.
Wendy smiled a consoling smile: “Why, Francis… the outfit… it’s so cute!” she said with enthusiasm, “It’s so much better than the other one… if I had any say in he matter, you’d be a tenderfoot Red Indian all the time,” she paused briefly, “...besides, you already look like a proper tenderfoot…” Wendy added, drawing attention to Francis’ obvious lack of pubic hair.
Francis couldn’t understand why Wendy appeared not to notice how ridiculously small his loincloth was, not even fully covering his not insubstantial penis. Surely she can see my nob? Francis wondered to himself. And Christopher told me you can see my balls too…
Yet Wendy came and stood next to Francis, putting her arm around his shoulder, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Doesn’t Francis look like a proper Red Indian, Mrs Parks?” Wendy said in all seriousness. “What do you girls think? Do you think Francis should wear a tenderfoot outfit in future?”
The squeals of delight from Sarah and Sam raised the roof of their house and were probably heard three doors away. Yes, there could be no doubt the girls thought the idea of their older brother being made to wear the tenderfoot Red Indian outfit for games of Cowboys and Indians was an excellent one and had their wholehearted support.
Mrs Parks smiled indulgently at her daughters’ enthusiastic response to Wendy’s suggestion. It had certainly put her mind to rest about allowing Francis to have a date. Here was a sensible girl she could trust. Mrs Parks could see that Wendy wasn’t one of those silly girls who would have laughed, or been shocked, or made a fuss when they saw Francis in his play costume. No, Wendy was completely level-headed. Mrs Parks knew how embarrassed, indeed mortified, Francis must have been feeling to be standing in front of his longed for ‘date’ wearing the ridiculously tiny loincloth. She didn’t set out to deliberately humiliate her son. Indeed the idea of Francis’ participation in the games of Cowboys and Indians had been that of her daughters. The girls had merely fulfilled their mother’s wish that Francis get some fresh air and exercise rather than spending all his time frowsting in his bedroom.
And Mrs Parks had to admit that she had seen a change in Francis’ behaviour… for the better, she was pleased to report, so that when Francis begged her to let him ask Wendy for a date, she acquiesced. However, this was before the regrettable incident with Christopher at Mrs Harper’s which called for the ‘family conference’. The day and time for Wendy to call on Francis had been agreed and Mrs Parks, not being one to go back on her word, allowed the ‘date’ to go ahead as planned.
It was, therefore, no one’s fault but Francis’ that he ended up in such a pickle.
“What do you think, Mrs Parks?” Wendy asked when the girls had calmed down.
“He does look like an authentic tenderfoot Red Indian, Wendy,” Mrs Parks replied.
“Will you let him play dressed as a tenderfoot in future then?” Wendy asked and squeezed Francis’ shoulders in such a way to imply that he wanted his mum’s permission and had been nagging her to be allowed to play in such a tiny costume.
“I’m sure if that’s what Francis wants… then I can’t see why not,” mum concluded magnanimously to renewed cheers from Sarah and Sam.
Francis was stunned… he was even more stunned when Wendy squeezed him tighter, turned her head and kissed him on the cheek.
“But… but… mum, you’re not serious?” Francis spluttered. He wasn’t sure if wearing the tenderfoot outfit in public wasn’t too high a price to pay even for all of Wendy’s kisses.
“Does that mean I can keep the Brave’s outfit?” Christopher asked.
“If Mrs Harper says you can, Christopher, then I can’t see why not… after all Francis isn’t going to need it…” Mrs Parks said, adroitly answering both Christopher’s and Francis’ questions.
“MUM!!” Francis cried.
Wendy sought to console her date. Francis might not know it, but he was Wendy’s idea of the ideal boyfriend. She’d had her eye on Francis for a long time. Not in a predatory way, but, as she thought then, an unattainable fantasy. Even without his being dressed in that ridiculously childish (and very revealing!) Red Indian costume, Wendy thought Francis was the cutest, most adorable boy imaginable. There was, unknown to either of them, a similarity in their perception of each other. Wendy thought a date with Francis just as unattainable as he did with her. Now they had both attained the unattainable, neither wanted to let it go.
There was one big difference between them. As Francis stood in full view of his mum, sisters and Wendy, dressed in his utterly humiliating Red Indian outfit; the moccasins, the armbands, the headband complete with colourful feather and the itty-bitty piece of buckskin that constituted his tenderfoot loincloth, he was the one who was sure Wendy would call off their date before it’d even started.
However, Wendy was perceptive enough to see what was going through Francis’ mind and attempted to put him at ease: “You look great in your Red Indian outfit, Francis… honestly you do… there aren’t many boys I can think of [well none actually as far as Wendy knew, a thought she kept to herself] who’d have the courage to wear it…”
“Don’t you thing it makes me look stupid?” Francis asked.
“Not at all… I told you you look great…” Wendy assured him, “Now why don’t you take Christopher and go out into the garden to play. Yours sisters and I need some girl-time together… and don’t worry, Francis, I really do want to spend more time with you…”
Wendy leant forward and kissed Francis’ cheek once more: “I like you,” she whispered.
Francis was relieved to escape from the front-room for no other reason than feeling Wendy so close to his almost naked body, coupled with her kiss, was causing an embarrassing movement behind the little flap of buckskin. By the time Francis and Christopher reached the back garden, the little tenderfoot flap had been pushed to one side by Francis’ stiffening penis.
Meanwhile, back in the front-room Mrs Parks took stock of her son’s date.
There was a twinkle in Wendy’s eye as she said again that she thought the tenderfoot Red Indian costume really suited Francis. “So, when’s the next game of Cowboys and Indians,” she asked Sarah and Sam.
“That’s down to Terry Harper,” Sarah replied, “He…”
“... is a little scallywag,” Mrs Parks interrupted, “and ought to have his bottom soundly spanked in my opinion…”
“... but mum, Terry’s the one who started it all… getting boys like Christopher to dress up and play Red Indians, so he and Ben could capture them, tie them up and do things…”
“Do things?” Wendy asked even though she had heard quite a bit from her position in the hall on the other side of the front-room door, she was still eager to know more, “What sort of things?”
“I’m not sure Wendy will want to hear about the sort of things boys get up to when they play Cowboys and Indians,” Mrs Parks said, “We don’t want Wendy to get the wrong idea about Francis, do we girls?” she added for the benefit of Sarah and Sam.
Wendy thought it best to make her position clear: “I do appreciate your concern, Mrs Parks, but I think it only fair that I’m told what Francis has been up to. After all, I’m the one who’s agreed to date him… and maybe I can help him… to, er, behave… I mean if he has been misbehaving… You had to give him the strap earlier, didn’t you… so he must have needed it…”
Wendy’s speech was hardly the most polished she’d ever given, but it got her point across. Mrs Parks was delighted and gave permission for her daughters to tell all omitting no detail however upsetting it might be.
Meanwhile, out in the garden, Francis was experiencing a major ‘wardrobe malfunction’. His substantial penis had risen far enough to push the little flap of buckskin, of which, in its entirety, the tenderfoot loincloth consisted, to one side. Thus was exposed not only the underside of his stiff organ, but Francis’ plump testicles as well.
“Crikey! What if they come out here and see you… er, see it?” Christopher exclaimed.
There was really only one thing for it… and both boys knew what it was.
Francis walked cautiously down toward the bottom of the garden, his big engorged penis wobbling between his legs as he moved in the direction of a clump of bamboo his mother had planted years ago to disguise a rather plain brick wall. When Francis was Christopher’s age he used to squeeze between the bamboo canes and the wall for a furtive wank if no other options were available. Living in a house with two girls meant he was often denied the privacy of the bathroom and one or the other of them was just as likely to burst into his bedroom without knocking. So Francis gained solace by retreating behind the bamboo curtain.
“Stay there and keep a lookout,” Francis told Christopher.
“What are you going to do?” Christopher asked, not that he didn’t know the answer.
“What do you think I’m going to do?” Francis replied somewhat impatiently as he pushed his way into the shrubbery.
“You’re never going to have a wank… are you?” Christopher was worried what would happen if Francis was caught, not for any finer feeling towards his fellow Red Indian, but for his own skin. Christopher knew he’d be seen to be Francis’ accomplice and he therefore feared any retribution would be dished out equally between them both. Christopher had seen the red marks that traversed Francis’ bare bottom and he was not at all keen to have his own bottom warmed up in a similar manner.
“Can’t you wait?” Christopher pleaded.
“Don’t be daft… Do you think I’m going to walk back indoors with a hard-on like this?” And so saying Francis took hold of his tumescent organ and proceeded, without saying anything further, to masturbate.
Indoors in the front-room Wendy was told the whole story of how Francis came to partake in Cowboys and Indians.
“It was the girls idea,” Mrs Parks explained, “I was fed up with the amount of time Francis had been spending alone in his bedroom…”
“... up to no good,” Sarah added authoritatively.
Wendy looked quizzically at them both.
“Oh, I think you know what I mean, Wendy,” Mrs Parks said before explaining how she’d caught Francis ‘doing it’ when he was twelve, “... lying on his bed, bare as the day he was born… he rolled over pretty quick though when he saw me, I can tell you… I told him that I was just going to put some of his clothes away… which I did… and all the while he was begging me to leave… at least I think that’s what he said because he’d buried his face in his pillow…”
They all laughed at Mrs Parks’ story.
“Fancy…” Wendy said, “Poor Francis must have been sooo embarrassed. But I suppose he learnt his lesson, didn’t he Mrs Parks?”
“Not at all, Wendy,” Mrs Parks chuckled, “I’m afraid boys like Francis don’t tend to have much in the way of self-control… I’ve walked in his room more than once to find him… well, to be quite blunt... playing with himself...”
“... and he wipes up the mess he makes with an old T-shirt,” Sarah added, “Thinks we don’t know he keeps it under his bed.”
“Ohmygod…” Wendy said pulling a face, “... that’s totally gross…”
“Now girls we don’t want to upset Wendy,” Mrs Parks said, “She’s here for a date with Francis and we don’t want to upset her.” she turned to Wendy, “You must forgive the girls… I’m sure you understand they really only have their brother’s best interests at heart.”
“That’s okay… I’m sure they only want to help Francis,” Wendy replied, “and I’d really like to help Francis too…” Then, careful not to sound too interested, she casually asked what had happened when Francis played Cowboys and Indians dressed in his Red Indian outfit.
Sarah and Sam were only too keen to relate this information for the benefit of Wendy who, despite her excitement, managed to appear calm and unemotional, nodding her head and tut-tutting as the girls described in graphic detail the games the boys played. This of course reinforced Mrs Parks view that Wendy was a most sensible girl and could be trusted to have a positive influence upon Francis.
“Mum wanted us to help Francis get lots of fresh air and exercise,” Sarah concluded.
“He certainly gets lots of fresh air wearing that tiny loincloth!” Wendy said laughing good-naturedly.
Out in the garden, behind the bamboo, Francis was masturbating furiously, desperate to cum before he had to face his mum or his sisters… or Wendy! He couldn’t bear the thought of Wendy seeing him with his penis sticking out from behind the little buckskin flap. What would she think? That I’m some sort of degenerate freak that’s what, he thought as he pumped his penis faster than he’d ever done before.
Christopher too was absent-mindedly stroking his own penis beneath the slightly larger loincloth. Despite Francis’ instructions to keep a lookout, Christopher’s eyes were drawn jealousy towards the bamboo from where he could hear Francis pleasuring himself. Christopher stepped forwards towards the shrubbery. He pushed some of the bamboo canes apart and saw Francis. The older boy’s fist was whipping up and down his stiff penis. Christopher could see a long string of pre-cum swinging from the head of Francis’ penis. Francis turned. The string of pre-cum caught on a bamboo cane.
“Go away…” he hissed as loudly as he dared. Then, quite unexpectedly and wholly unintentionally, Francis, over excited and over stimulated, suddenly climaxed. For a second time Christopher was standing in the firing-line and found himself once more splattered with turbid teen-cum. He staggered backwards as another powerful jet of viscous goo just missed his loincloth. Francis’ slimy cum slithered down Christopher’s thighs
“Look what you’ve done!” Christopher said angrily, “I’m covered in it…”
“Keep your voice down,” Francis said panicking. He’d heard Wendy’s voice. She was calling them from the back-door… the last thing he wanted to hear. But what to do about Christopher? If only Christopher had stayed where he was and kept a lookout, Francis thought, he could have got away with shooting his spunk into the shrubbery and no one would have been any the wiser. As it was Christopher ended up with the stuff all over him.
“Shush… maybe she’ll go back inside,” Francis added hopefully.
“Yeah… then what? I’m still covered in all your… gunk,” Christopher replied as he scooped off some of the glistening slime from his tummy. “Yuck…”
“Then we’ll have to get you cleaned up,” a voice from behind them said calmly. It was Wendy.
Neither boy had noticed Wendy as she crept stealthily down the garden. She knew they’d been up to something when she saw Christopher standing with his back towards her. From her position outside the back door of the house, Wendy figured out that Francis must be inside the patch of bamboo. She decided to investigate and walked stealthily down Mrs Parks’ garden in time to see Christopher jerk backwards as the first volley of Francis’ slimy teen-cum hit him.
Francis’ first reaction was to try and hide his softening penis from which a long glistening string of boy-cum was hanging. By turning away from Wendy he managed to fumble with his penis, but the tiny loincloth was far too small to disguise what he’s been doing. Besides which Francis had for the moment forgotten the tenderfoot loincloth had no rear flap and so his date, Wendy was treated to the sight of his bare bottom once more.
But there was no getting away from it. Wendy knew what Francis had been doing. The evidence was right there in front of her, slowly trickling down Christopher’s legs… to say nothing of the the splatter-globs which had hit Christopher on his midriff and belly.
“You two have got yourselves into a right state,” Wendy summed up the boys’ predicament then sighed, “What a mess…”.
There was no hiding Christopher’s mood. He was angry with Francis and indignant that Wendy should think ‘the mess’ was in any way his fault.
“It wasn’t me,” he said to put Wendy straight, “I didn’t… er, y’know… it was Francis…”
Christopher could feel the cum slowly trickling down his legs, but Wendy produced a soft cloth and started to clean up the mess on his legs. Francis gingerly turned around clutching his hands between his legs.
“You, er… you won’t tell mum, will you?” he pleaded.
“Why? Do you think she’ll be upset if I tell her what you’ve been doing?” Wendy asked as she continued to wipe Francis’ cum off Christopher’s legs.
Wendy didn’t need Francis to answer. She already knew what Mrs Parks’ reaction would be, but Francis told her anyway: “She’ll be livid…”
Francis hung his head in shame. Here was his first date with Wendy and it had all gone so horribly wrong. In fact it couldn’t have got more worse. Being made to dress up in the Red Indian outfit; the ‘family meeting’; the spanking; the entrance of Wendy; swapping outfits with Christopher; cumming all over Christopher and being found out by Wendy of all people.
“Please don’t tell mum…” Francis said softly.
“Don’t be silly, of course I won’t... I won’t say anything to your mum, Francis,” Wendy replied, “This will be just between us… won’t it boys?”
There was the faintest edge to Wendy’s last few words, but Francis was too relieved his mum was not going to find out what had happened to notice.
Both Christopher and Francis nodded and agreed to Wendy’s proposal.
