Wendy was fortunate to have an uncle who was a keen motorsports enthusiast. He had taken Wendy to all sorts of different events from hill-climbing to Formula One. It would to true to say that this had instilled in her a love of cars, a petrolhead in the making maybe. Wendy had been taught to drive on private roads by her uncle and she was already a seasoned driver by the age of fifteen. It came as no big surprise therefore that she obtained her driving licence just a few days after her seventeenth birthday.
As a present for passing her driving test Wendy’s uncle gave her the use of his MG Midget convertible sports car. Wendy understood that such a valuable car from her uncle’s small collection of cars was most definitely not a gift, she was nonetheless thrilled to be able to drive the MG on public roads. Of the cars she had driven while she learnt to drive the little MG was by far her favourite.
This was the car Wendy had driven to Mrs Park’s house for her date with Francis.
In the previous part of this story [Francis & His Sisters - Part 5] we left Wendy wiping Christopher clean after Francis had managed to ejaculate over his fellow Red Indian. It was an accident of course. Francis had hidden himself in a clump of tall bamboo at the bottom of the garden in order to deal with an erection. He stood no chance of concealing his engorged penis as he was wearing nothing more than a tiny piece of buckskin over his private parts. This little flap of leather constituted the whole of the tenderfoot loincloth he was wearing and was itself a major (if somewhat minute) part of his Red Indian play outfit which included a beaded headband replete with colourful feather. The minuscule flap didn’t actually cover his private parts you understand, it was more of a concession to boyhood modesty and not really designed for a boy as old and as well developed as Francis.
As Francis and Christopher left the confines of the house the tiny flap of Francis’ loincloth had been pushed to one side by Francis’ penis as his erection developed. Francis knew that he needed to do something pretty pronto before anyone caught him with his penis upright, at attention and on full display. A quick J. Arthur was the only solution and he headed straight for the bottom of the garden where the shrubbery afforded some privacy.
If it hadn’t been for Christopher’s curiosity Francis might have got away with his stratagem whereby he would ejaculate into the shrubbery and wait until his penis was soft enough to cover with the buckskin... well cover up what he could as best he could. As it was Christopher, who should have been keeping a look out, crept a few steps closer to the clump of bamboo than he should have done. Curiosity getting the better of him, Christopher pulled apart some of the canes to see if he could watch Francis masturbating. Sure enough Christopher saw Francis’ fist as it pumped furiously, whipping up and down the length of the turgid member. But Francis got a scare when he heard the bamboo rustling. He turned, with his fist working on automatic pilot, saw who the intruder was and would have turned back, but the shock startled him enough to trigger an explosive ejaculation just as he had turned to face Christopher.
What the two boys didn’t know was that Wendy had left the house and was in the garden in time to see what Francis and Christopher were up to. When she realised, and saw the evidence, Wendy must have thought all her birthdays had come at once. She was sensible enough to keep her feelings to herself. Sizing up the situation and realising how embarrassed Francis would be, she decided to tell the boys the ‘incident’ was strictly between the three of them.
As Wendy suspected, Francis was deeply embarrassed. Wendy was the girl of his dreams. He was angry with himself for what had happened. It wasn’t Christopher’s fault that he got sprayed with cum. It was his own fault for having no self control. Wearing the stupid little tenderfoot costume didn’t help of course and he still didn’t understand his mixed feelings toward it. Francis admitted to himself that Wendy would have every reason to go home and forget about him. Who, he wondered, would want to go out with a boy who dressed up in such childish outfits, a boy who played Cowboys and Indians with younger boys like Christopher? No, Francis was positive Wendy wouldn’t understand. As he watched her clean up Christopher, he was sure she wouldn’t understand, but, however much it might hurt, he had to know for sure where he stood.
“Er, Wendy…” Francis began nervously. Wendy turned to look at him. “... have we er, still got a date?”
Wendy smiled: “Of course we have. Why would you think otherwise?”
Francis was relieved, but couldn’t bring himself to look Wendy in the eye as he replied: “I… I just thought that… er, maybe… after… you know…” Francis nodded in Christopher’s direction, “Er, that… stuff… I thought that… y’know…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Wendy said cheerfully, “I told you, that’s between you, me and Christopher…” she paused briefly before adding, “I understand boys... look Francis, sometimes boys get over excited. You can’t help it… it’s natural… I’m okay with it, really I am.”
Francis could hardly believe what he’d just heard: “Are… are you sure… really?”
“Of course I am... I wouldn’t say I was if I wasn’t,” Wendy replied, “I told you how much I liked you… it’s true… now come on let’s go for a drive and forget what’s happened… we can drop off Christopher on the way.”
“A drive!” Francis was stunned.
“Sure… my uncle has lent me a car…” Wendy could see Francis still didn’t understand, “Didn’t you know I’d passed my driving test?”
Francis shook his head and Wendy took hold of his hand as she began to walk towards the house.
“Come on, Francis, it’ll be fun... Christopher!” Wendy called as she held out her other hand for Christopher to hold. “My two brave Red Indian Braves!”
“What have you decided to do?” Mrs Park asked as they re-entered the house.
“Wendy’s got a car and she’s taking us for a spin… we’re dropping Christopher at Mrs Harper’s on the way,” Francis replied with the sort of breathless enthusiasm of a boy half his age.
“That’ll be nice…” Francis’ mother replied.
“It’s my uncle’s car, Mrs Park... I promised I’d only be out for a couple of hours… uncle wants to show it to one of his friends later,” Wendy explained.
“You’d better get a move on then…”
Francis turned to leave the room: “I’ll just nip upstairs and change…”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s time for that, Francis. You heard Wendy… she’s only got the car for an hour or two,” his mum said stopping Francis in his tracks.
“You’re right, Mrs Park,” Wendy agreed, “We haven’t got much time, Francis... don’t worry about your costume, you’ll be safe in the car.”
Francis looked from Wendy to his mother and back again. He really, really wanted to go on his date… but wearing nothing but his Red Indian outfit, his tenderfoot Red Indian outfit… he wasn’t so sure.
Wendy took his hand again and squeezed it gently.
“It’ll be all right, Francis…” she promised.
In her wildest dream Wendy never imagined going on a date with Francis with him wearing the skimpiest, utterly ridiculous and revealing costume. Outwardly she was perfectly composed and sensible, agreeing with Mrs Park how it would do Francis the world of good to get out and about a bit more. Having the use of her uncle’s car meant she could take Francis to all sorts of places. Did Wendy imagine it, or did Mrs Park wink at her as much to say, ‘yes, wearing that costume’?
Wendy didn’t disguise the fact that she was looking at Francis’ costume once more, from his moccasins, beaded anklets and bracelets, armbands and headband with its long, brightly coloured feather and of course the tiny flap of buckskin hanging from a cord tied around Francis’ hips. All he needs is some war-paint, Wendy thought. She led him out of the house and down the driveway. Christopher followed.
It hardly needs a genius to realise how nervous Francis was as he meekly allowed Wendy to lead him away from the safety of the house. He had waited so long for his date with Wendy that he couldn’t afford anything to go wrong. Francis knew that he could have dragged his heels and insisted he change out of the absurdly revealing Red Indian outfit, but that ploy, he felt sure, would have courted disaster. Wendy could have left him and he knew he’d never have another opportunity to date her. But it was still crazy to leave the house dressed in a little boy’s outfit. Francis felt the single thin strip of soft leather between his legs... the tiny flap that didn’t even cover his boyhood properly. So, he wondered, how bad would it be? After all he’d be sitting in the car. No one was going to see what he was wearing and if anyone was nosy enough to peer into the car, they’d surely think he’d just taken off his T-shirt. It’d be okay, Francis told himself. They were going for a drive. He was going to stay in the car. What could possibly go wrong?
At the end of the drive Wendy suddenly had an idea and stepped behind Francis. She reached up and covered his eyes with her hands.
“Whoa! What’s this for?” Francis asked. He was feeling vulnerable enough without Wendy playing tricks on him.
“Oh, don’t be such softie… I want it to be a surprise, that’s all,” Wendy said as she turned to Christopher, quickly took one hand away from Francis’ head and, putting a finger to her lips, gestured to him to keep quiet.
They moved out out onto the pavement. The little yellow convertible MG Midget, with its top down, sparkled in the sun. Wendy’s uncle took pride in keeping the car in tip-top condition.
Christopher couldn’t help himself and gasped when he realised this was Wendy’s car. Whether this was from excitement of the opportunity to ride in a sports car, or whether he was shocked they would be riding in an open-top car… maybe a bit of both, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Francis was going to make of it!
Wendy slid her hands away from Francis’ head.
“What do you think? It’s my favourite car… the best one ever. Do you like it? Say you like it.” Wendy said earnestly, betraying no sign of any other motive other than her eagerness to please Francis.
Wendy hands rested on Francis’ hips as she stood behind him. Francis focussed on the open-topped car in front of him, his mouth fell open and his eyes grew wider.
“It’s really kind of uncle to lend me the MG… it really is my favourite,” Wendy said as she squeezed Francis excitedly, “It’s great fun to drive…”
Of course Francis wasn’t really bothered about whether the MG was fun to drive or not, all he was concerned about was sitting in an open-topped sports car and being driven about wearing a kid’s Red Indian outfit that hardly covered his nob never mind his balls.
Christopher, however, thought differently. Maybe it was because he had a bit more experience of life with little or no clothes, but for now he looked at the car and uttered one word, “Cool…”
“You’ll have to squeeze in the back somehow, Christopher… the MG’s only designed for two…” Wendy apologised.
Christopher wasn’t at all worried and leapt in behind the passenger seat, happily sitting sideways with his knees up, “Oh, this is so cool…”
Wendy walked round to the driver’s side, “Come on, Francis, get in,” she called.
Even at this late stage Francis fought the urge to run back into the house, but he knew he’d never live it down if he did. For heaven’s sake, he told himself, Christopher couldn’t get in the car quick rough… at least he’s enjoying it. Then if I did go back I’d never get another chance to date Wendy… mum would give me a bollocking and that would be nothing to the teasing I’d get from Sarah and Sam… No, I’d never live it down.
Francis reached out, gripped the door handle, pressed the catch and pulled the door open. Carefully he slipped into the seat and Wendy started the car and put it into gear. She briefly patted Francis on his bare thigh and they were off…
“Just got to stop and get some petrol, then we’ll drop Christopher off…” Wendy said breezily.
“Oh, do you have to… can’t I come for a ride?” Christopher shouted for the back against the wind noise.
Francis couldn’t decide whether to fold his arms or to keep his hands pressed between his legs. He felt extremely vulnerable sat in the open-top MG. Christopher, on the other hand, was enjoying every second of the drive.
Wendy could see out of the corner of her eye that Francis was tense: “Relax, Francis… I’m a very careful driver,” she said even though she knew it wasn’t her driving Francis was worried about.
“It’s not that, Wendy,” Francis replied, “It’s this… well, if you must know it’s this Red Indian outfit…” he blurted out.
“What? Oh, don’t worry about that,” Wendy said cheerfully, “I’m not bothered about that at all… Oh, you’re not shy, are you?” she asked as if it had only just occurred to her. “There’s really no need to be… not on my account.” Then she took her left hand off the steering wheel and gently patted Francis on his right thigh before taking hold of the gear stick to change down as she steered the little MG round a corner.
Francis was in no doubt about Wendy’s sincerity. She is being really nice and trying hard to help, he thought, but she doesn’t realise how embarrassing it is to wear this costume. I’m not shy… not normally anyway, it’s just this silly outfit. I mean my outfit was bad enough, but being made to swap with Christopher for this tiny tenderfoot loincloth was awful. Francis sighed. Wendy was being so understanding...
“I’m just going to pull in here for some petrol,” Wendy said as she steered the MG into a petrol station, “You stay there…” she added as she stepped out of the car just as an attendant crossed the forecourt towards them. The badge she wore said that her name was Jill.
When she saw the boys wearing headbands with brightly coloured feathers, the attendant Jill couldn’t help but be curious.
“You boys off to the fancy dress party too?” Jill said as she unscrewed the filler cap at the back of the MG.
“... the fancy dress party?” Wendy asked.
“Yes, there were a couple of boys… no, three actually, not five minutes ago dressed in the most adorable little lederhosen outfits of all things,” Jill explained, “Quite a sight… and when one of the boys got out of the car… well you should have see him… very cute,” she said and winked at Wendy. “Little leather micro-shorts… he had lovely smooth legs... how much petrol?”
“Oh, just a gallon… that should be enough,” Wendy answered, “I wonder where they were off to… did they say?” she turned and said to Francis over her shoulder, “Francis, could you pass me my purse, it’s in the glove compartment.”
Francis found Wendy’s purse and held it out, stretching sideways over to the driver’s door, but Wendy had turned back towards the attendant.
“I wonder if it’s anyone we know?” Wendy pondered.
“I’d be a shame for these boys to miss it… all dressed up like real Red… oh, my!” the Jill gasped when she saw that Francis’ bottom was quite bare, for he was now leaning across the space between the two seats trying to get Wendy’s attention.
Christopher giggled as Francis, realising what the attendant had seen, shot back into the passenger seat.
“It’s a tenderfoot loincloth,” Christopher, feeling an explanation was called for, decided to tell the attendant, “Tenderfoots aren’t allowed a flap at the back…” he giggled again at Francis’ evident embarrassment. “It’s mine really, but Francis wanted to try it on…”
“I didn’t… mum made me,” Francis hissed.
“Did too!” Christopher insisted.
“Didn’t…” Francis said almost whispering his response.
“Boys, boys! There’s only one way to settle this,” Jill announced. She’d finished filling the MG and had replaced the filler cap. She walked round to the passenger side of the car and looked down at Francis who sat with his hands squeezed between his legs again.
“Let’s see what’s so special about this tenderfoot loincloth that you were so keen to try on… come on, it can’t be any worse than the lederhosen I saw those boys wearing,” she said.
Christopher couldn’t help but snigger, “‘Tis too… you wait ‘til you see it.”
Francis twisted his head round to face Christopher: “Shut up!” he snapped.
Wendy meanwhile was smiling at the little contretemps between the boys. It was always funny to see boys squabbling, usually over the most trivial of things.
Christopher decided to put Francis to the test. To the amusement of both Jill and Wendy he challenged Francis to let the attendant compare his outfit with his own.
“Don’t be stupid!” was Francis’ curt response.
“Chicken!” was Christopher’s answer.
“No I’m not chicken!”
“Okay, I dare you then!” Christopher challenged Francis.
Christopher debouched from the tight confines of the back of the MG and climbed out onto the forecourt of the petrol station. Francis, embarrassed beyond belief, stayed sat resolutely in the passenger seat of the sports car.
The attendant studied Christopher’s outfit: “Hmm, looks like I was wrong… your Red Indian outfit is certainly more, er, revealing than those little leather shorts the other boys were wearing.”
Christopher turned around so the attendant could see the rear flap of his costume.
“It’s a bit on the small side,” Jill said on seeing the tiny flap that really hardly covered much of Christopher’s well rounded bottom.
“Yeah, but it’s more than the tenderfoot…” Christopher started to say before he was interrupted by Francis again telling him to shut up.
“Don’t be like that, Francis,” Wendy said, “Christopher’s only trying to be helpful.”
Francis pouted like a little boy.
“You’re not going to let Christopher win, are you?” Wendy added.
Francis looked up at her: “What do you mean?”
“Well, if you don’t do the dare, surely Christopher is entitled to make you do a forfeit?” Wendy explained, although she really had no idea of the rules boys had for challenges like dares.
“Like what?” Francis asked nervously. He didn’t like the sound of this at all.
“Could be anything, I suppose… that’d be up to Christopher,” Wendy said vaguely.
It was enough to frighten Francis into action and he slowly opened the car door. Cautiously he put his left leg out and then twisted himself round and put his right leg out. It was enough for Jill to see why Francis wanted to stay in the car, since she could now see just how small the front flap of his Red Indian costume was. She gasped. It was tiny! It didn’t even properly cover his penis and she could clearly see his pump balls squashed between his thighs.
Francis gripped the dashboard with one hand and the back of the passenger seat with the other and slowly eased himself out of the relatively safe confines of the MG.
Francis stood up straight, then looked down and made an attempt to adjust the little flap, but to little effect since he was too well developed for a tenderfoot loincloth to afford him any degree of respectability.
Jill put her hand to her chin as if in thought. “Well?” she said and Francis knew what was required. He shuffled round so that he back was towards the attendant. Christopher moved to stand next to Francis.
“Oh, that’s just so cute!” the attendant cooed as she assessed the sight before her. One totally bare bottom, that of Francis and one very nearly bare bottom, that of Christopher. Jill looked up at Wendy, “I’ve just got to take a picture of them… do you mind? I took a couple snaps of the boys in their lederhosen,” she added as if this justified her taking a few photos of Francis and Christopher as well.
“I don’t see why not,” Wendy answered magnanimously, completely ignoring Francis whose mouth fell open at this further indignity. Christopher wasn’t that bothered as he was of the opinion that anything which caused Francis further embarrassment was funny and anyhow he deserved to be embarrassed for not doing the dare straightaway.
“... besides, where’s the harm in a few photos?” Wendy added as Jill went to fetch her camera from her office.
Francis took the opportunity to appeal to Wendy: “Can’t we just go for this drive? You don’t know what it’s like standing here…”
“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Francis… look, Christopher isn’t bothered,” Wendy pointed out cheerfully as she made light of Francis’ predicament.
A few moments later Jill came back from her booth with her camera. She quickly arranged the boys in front of the MG and took a few photos before calling over for Wendy to join them.
“... that’s it… you stand between them… put your arms over their shoulders… now smile all of you…”
Then Wendy had an idea: “How about you take one as if these frightening Red Indians were trying to capture me?”
What Wendy meant was that the boys, who up to that point had been posed facing the attendant’s camera, would now have to turn and face Wendy.
“What a great idea!” Jill said as she snapped away taking some memorable shots of Christopher’s and Francis’ bottoms.
Everyone was having so much fun… everyone except Francis of course. So much fun they almost didn’t notice another car when it pulled into the garage.
A woman leaned out of the driver’s window and Jill, with her camera in hand, went over to see what her customer wanted.
“Are those boys going to the fancy dress party as well?” the lady asked.
Jill noticed a boy sat in the back seat next to a girl wearing an elaborate party frock. The boy, however was wearing a snorkel and diving mask… and very little else as far as Jill could see.
The lady saw where Jill was looking and laughed: “My son Peter… he’s going as a diver. His sister Rosy, she’s going too…”
“I’m a milkmaid,” Rosy informed her and lifting a small pail from the floor of the car.
“Is Peter wearing flippers?” Jill asked and for a reply Rosy put the pail down and lifted one of her brother’s legs up. Yes, Peter was wearing flippers
“Well I never!” Jill said and turned to speak to their mother, “Would Peter and Rosy like to come and meet the Red Indians? I’d love to take some pictures of them all together.”
“That’s a lovely idea… Rosy, help Peter out of the car and go and join the boys over there,” mum told the children, then added to Jill by way of explanation, “Peter needs a bit of assistance… those flippers are a bit of a hindrance, but they’re part of Peter’s costume.”
Jill watched as Rosy got out of the car and walked round to help her brother out. The flippers were rather large and made walking difficult for the young boy who looked to Jill to be about the same age as Christopher, but if the flippers were oversized, Peter’s speedo swim trunks were minute!
“Rosy found them in Peter’s room,” mum explained, “I don’t know why he kept them. Peter hasn’t worn them since he was ten. Rosy insisted he wear them for the party.”
They laughed as they watched Peter making his way slowly across the forecourt lifting each flipper clear of the ground and then down again with a sharp smack.
“I’m surprised he managed to squeeze into those swim trunks,” Jill commented as she watched Peter flip flop his way over towards Christopher and Francis, “It must have been an almighty struggle...”
“It was,” Peter’s mother informed Jill, “We both had to help him…”
“Gosh… you and Rosy? I bet he wasn’t very happy about that,” Jill said with a smirk.
Wendy watched as Peter walked laboriously towards Francis, Christopher and herself. She clapped and applauded: “Well done!” She too couldn’t help but notice the tiny speedos that Peter was wearing.
Wendy turned to Francis: “We really ought to go to the fancy dress party…”
Christopher thought it was a great idea. Francis wasn’t in the least bit enthusiastic.
“Go on, Francis… it’ll be fun,” Wendy said trying to cheer him up.
“But we can’t go if we haven’t been invited,” Francis said firmly as if he was using his ‘get out of jail’ card.
“Let’s go and ask the lady in the car. She must know if it would be alright,” Wendy said and took Francis by the hand. Wendy tugged Francis and urged him to ‘come on’, so Francis was made to walk across the forecourt, away from the comparative safety of the MG.
“Cor… I thought my stupid old swim trunks were small enough,” Peter confided in Christopher, “but your Red Indian outfits are tiny!” He pointed towards Francis’ loincloth, “Crikey... you can see his nob and everything… Phew, I’m glad it’s not me.”
“You better watch out you don’t run into Ben Harper then,” Christopher replied.
“Who’s Ben Harper?” Peter asked.
Christopher took great delight in telling Peter all about Ben and his games of Cowboys and Indians and brought him up to date with the difference between a tenderfoot loincloth and that of an Indian brave.
“Actually I should be wearing a tenderfoot loincloth,” Christopher explained, feeling superior in his knowledge of matters pertaining to games of Cowboys and Indians when it had become clear that Peter hadn’t a clue as to what was involved, “But Francis’ mum made him swap with me, so…”
“You mean he… he’s not wearing anything behind…” Peter gasped.
“Look see… nothing at all,” Christopher said as he pointed towards Francis’ bare bottom, “I told you, there’s no flap at the back of a tenderfoot loincloth…” Then he leant forward towards Peter to add in a whisper, “Betcha can’t guess how old he is.”
Peter shook his head: “Dunno… thirteen… fourteen, maybe…”
“He’s nearly seventeen…” Christopher informed him.
“Never…” Peter couldn’t believe what Christopher had told him, “But he hasn’t got any hairs. That loincloth thingy is so small… you can see he hasn’t got any nob-hairs at all… He can’t be that old.”
“That’s because he was scalped by the cowboys…”
“Blimey…” Peter was gobsmacked. Then a thought occurred to him. “What’s he doing running about like that at his age?”
Peter made it sound as though Francis was nearer seventy than seventeen, but he undoubtedly had a point.
“Long story,” Christopher replied, “but I gather his mum thought he was spending too much time in his bedroom… alone… capiche?”
Peter giggled: “What? Doing it?” He curled his fist and made a slight jerking movement to show he understood.
“Yup… he did it in the garden not half and hour ago…”
“You see him doing it?” Peter asked.
“More than that…”
“Whad’ya mean?” Peter was transfixed.
“He spunked up and it squirted over me… He didn’t mean to,” Christopher explained, then added magnanimously, “My fault really… I shouldn’t have got too close…”
“Wow…” was all Peter could think to say. He’d never seen an older boy wanking before. In fact he wasn’t even sure older boys did it, so it came as a surprise to find out that Francis did. He felt quite envious of Christopher for having been able watch Francis at it, but he wasn’t too sure about being squirted over.
Meanwhile Francis was feeling particularly nervous standing next to Wendy in front of the car belonging to the mother of Peter and Rosy.
“Hello, I’m Wendy and this is Francis,” Wendy introduced themselves.
“Pleased to meet you. My name’s Lake… Mildred Lake,” came the reply.
Wendy leaned in towards Mildred, out of earshot of Francis who, anyway was too busy looking round nervously to hear anything said. “Actually it’s our first date… Francis and me,” she whispered.
“How on earth did you get him to wear that fancy dress costume? You’re a very lucky girl to persuade an attractive boy to come to the party dressed like that…”
“Well, that’s the thing… we weren’t actually going to the party,” Wendy explained, “Francis dresses up to play Cowboys and Indians…”
Mildred couldn’t control herself and burst out laughing: “You’re kidding…”
Wendy glanced at Francis. He was still far too worried about being seen to have heard Mrs Lake’s laughter.
“Some boys never grow up,” Mildred Lake told Wendy, “Although I think you already know that…”
“Do you think they’ll let us into the party?” Wendy asked.
“Wearing those costumes? No problem. You follow me and I’ll make sure you all get in,” Mildred Lake replied.
Story Index
