Airship Over Atherton

by Christopher Cummings

  Willy put his arms around her, feeling the wondrous smoothness of her skin. For a few moments her eyes searched his face and then he drew her closer. She came willingly and pressed against him, producing the most erotic sensation Willy had ever experienced.

  “Stop it!” he whispered huskily.

  “Why?” she giggled, repeating the action.

  “Because.”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “I love it. But your brother and Stephen are looking.”

  Marjorie giggled. “I don’t care. It’s you I like,” she said huskily.

  Willy’s sense reeled. His imagination exploded in a riot of fantasy. He licked his lips and gripped her waist tightly.

  Stick splashed cold water on them. “Come on you two. Save that for later.”

  “Yes, later,” whispered Marjorie, her eyes glazed with arousal. She kissed him again and he felt her body wriggle against his.

  Willy had to lick lips that had gone suddenly dry. “Do you forgive me for this morning?” he managed to croak.

  Marjorie stepped back and laughed. “Of course! But you have to be nice to me.”

  Willy’s mind framed the question of what she meant by ‘being nice’, but he could not bring himself to utter it. Stephen saved him by splashing them again.

  Stick led the way out of the water. Stephen followed. Reluctantly Marjorie let Willy go and waded ashore. Willy watched her as she climbed the bank. She toweled herself dry, moving in a very provocative way as she did. Poor Willy! He struggled with aroused lust. ‘Barbara! Remember Barbara! This is not love. This is lust. Marjorie is just a little hot-pants.’ But he could not keep his eyes or his thoughts off her. Did she just want sex? Or did she love him? He wondered if she was one of those types of girls he had heard about who went all the way? ‘Surely not?’ he thought. ‘She is only 13.’

  But she kept smiling at him and moving in ways that showed off her body. ‘Is it just sex she wants? Do I want it?’ Willy thought. Then he answered it in his mind, ‘Silly question! Of course I do!’ He had never had it and was tormented by the desire to try it, and to see if he was able to do it. But he was torn. ‘Remember Barbara! Think of something else! Think of airships,’ he told himself. But he couldn’t. He could only stare at Marjorie.

  When they were dressed they set off back up the track to the farm. Stick led, followed by Stephen. Marjorie went next and Willy last. When they came out into the open fields she slowed to walk beside him. Several times their arms brushed together. Willy suspected she was doing that hoping he would hold her hand, but he stubbornly resisted.

  Back at the farm the pressure was maintained, with the added complication that Stephen was still competing strongly, with the clear intention of cutting Willy out. Willy resented this, and mentally flailed himself for being a hypocrite. ‘I’m being disloyal to Barbara. But Oh! Marjorie looks very desirable!’

  For Willy the whole afternoon and evening passed in a haze of misty heat. Marjorie kept touching him. At dinner time she sat so that her leg could press against his. That got him all aroused and anxiously flustered, fearful that the adults might notice.

  Marjorie bumped him whenever they passed. Her eyes sparkled mischievously in a way that even inexperienced Willy could tell was a ‘come hither’ look. While they watched TV she sat next to him on the sofa. She rubbed his leg and pressed against him. Willy remained on fire. He hoped none of the adults noticed, and was hot with shame because he felt sure that Stephen and Stick were aware of what was going on. Stephen radiated jealousy and hostility, but finally seemed to accept he was wasting his time.

  At bedtime Marjorie, wearing her dressing gown, came out to the back veranda where the three boys were bunking on stretchers. She knelt down beside Willy’s stretcher. He looked up at her in wonder. Then she leaned forward and gave him a kiss. When she finished she raised herself slightly.

  “Good night Willy. Sweet dreams,” she whispered.

  Willy’s senses swam. He couldn’t believe it was true. He savoured the sweet smell of her perfume and her warm ‘just out of the bath’ body. He could not help noticing that when she leaned forward the front of her dressing gown sagged open to reveal that she apparently wore nothing underneath. He swallowed and gulped. His heart hammered. His hands seemed to itch with a desperate yearning to touch her smooth flesh.

  Stephen let out a snort. “Break it up you two,” he growled. “We’ve got to sleep near Willy and he will be panting and squirming all night.”

  Marjorie’s answer was to lean forward so that her hair fell on Willy’s face, tickling him. She leaned down and kissed him gently. Greatly daring Willy brushed his hand against her.

  “Mmm!” she murmured. She rubbed herself lightly on him and kissed him again. Willy felt as though he was suffocating from the heat. Blood pounded in his skull. She pressed firmly against him. This caused a sort of explosion of desire and satisfaction in Willy’s already reeling mind. Such sheer pleasure he had never known! Marjorie kissed him again.

  Stick snorted and called, “It won’t work Sis. It doesn’t matter how many times you kiss toads they don’t turn into princes.”

  “Toads are all you will get!” Marjorie retorted. She bent over Willy again and kissed him. As she lifted her head her eyes met his and she whispered, “See you later.”

  “How much later?” Willy asked, half joking and half hoping.

  Marjorie puckered her lips and whispered, “Come to my bedroom when the others are asleep.”

  Willy was about to whisper, “what if we get caught,” when it occurred to him that she would despise such a cowardly answer. ‘Be brave!’ he told himself. “Do you really mean that? You won’t tell on me?” he asked.

  Marjorie nodded, her eyes alight with mischief and challenge. At that moment adult footsteps sounded in the hallway. Willy hastily withdrew his hand and Marjorie stood up. The other two boys guffawed.

  Stephen grinned wolfishly. “Don’t we get a goodnight kiss?” he asked.

  Marjorie sniffed and turned her back. As Willy’s mother came out onto the veranda Marjorie went inside. The light was turned out and Willy lay back in his sleeping bag. He was so aroused he was in pain. And his mind was in a lather of doubt. There was no doubt in his mind that Marjorie had dared him. ‘And if I don’t go she will think I am gutless,’ he mused, then added that he would hold himself in contempt. It was a direct challenge to his manhood and he squirmed with a mixture of fear and desire as he wrestled with his conscience.

  For a few minutes Willy joined in a desultory conversation about airships and what they would do the next day, but his mind and emotions were really concentrated on Marjorie. He resolved to go, thinking, ‘I can always stop before we do anything too serious or naughty, and anyway, she won’t let me do much. It should be fun.’

  Silence settled over the farm. Everyone went to sleep- except Willy. He lay there in a state of excited anxiety. ‘She said see you later, and come to my bedroom after the others are asleep,’ he thought. But the idea of sneaking on his parents caused him some niggling concern. But Willy was male and young and fit and the thought of being with a girl dominated his thoughts and body. His heated imagination explored the possibility of sneaking into her bedroom. He wanted to- but did he dare? For over an hour he tossed and turned, restlessly aware of his urgent physical need.

  To add to Willy’s frustrations and feelings of guilt the adults stayed awake, talking in the kitchen for what seemed like hours. It was all Willy could do to stay awake. But the hint of promise was enough. He urgently wanted to kiss Marjorie again, to feel the warm softness of her body. That led his mind into speculating what she might let him do and what it might be like. He began to imagine a whole range of erotic scenarios.

  In the midst of these hot fantasies he fell asleep.

  Some time later Willy woke. ‘Where am I?’ he wondered. Then, as he poked his head out of the sleeping bag into the cool night air he saw that he was on the verandah and that the night was very dark w
ith no moon. The only sound was a distant motor vehicle somewhere to the east. Then he remembered Marjorie’s dare. For quite a while he lay there, mulling over the rights and wrongs and possible consequences of him being caught in her bedroom. ‘It will disappoint mum and dad,’ he thought. But when weighed against his urgent desire that suddenly seemed a small price to pay.

  Having decided to go to her he lay and listened, trying to ascertain if all the adults were sound asleep. The next challenge was to get out of the stretcher while making the minimum possible noise. He raised his head and tried to see if either Stephen or Stick were awake. All he could see in the starlight were two dim shapes. He tried to get up but the stretcher immediately made several loud squeaks. This caused him to freeze and cast guilty glances at his friends. But they did not move and he continued, lying on his front and slowly and carefully sliding one leg over the side and then the other.

  After several minutes of slow movement Willy was able to lift himself off the stretcher. But as he stood up Stephen grunted and mumbled something and Stick moved in his stretcher. Willy froze in fear and stared at them. No. They were asleep. The alibi for being up that was on the tip of his tongue was that he was going to the toilet but even thinking the lie made him blush with shame.

  Summoning up his courage he tip-toed across to the hallway door and opened it. But he was getting more frightened by the minute. ‘What if I have misread the signs? What if Marjorie calls out or screams?’ he thought. Images of the embarrassment and shameful interviews with parents that would follow gave him pause and he stopped just inside the door. But oh! The lust was surging through his veins. ‘Be a man,’ he told himself. With an effort of willpower he began creeping along the darkened hallway

  Willy’s feet felt sticky on the cold lino. As he snuck past the door to his parent’s bedroom a floorboard under his feet creaked loudly. He experienced another spasm of fear. Into his mind came his father’s blunt advice about girls under 16: ‘Jail-bait mate. Better to wait.’ His anxiety was now fuelled by the fear that he might lose control and that things might go too far.

  Willy wanted to draw back, to run, but his pride kept him moving. Despising himself for being a weakling he gripped the doorknob of Marjorie’s room and slowly turned it. It made a tiny grating noise that sent his nerves twanging and his heart hammered so loudly he had trouble hearing. But nobody called out and the house seemed quiet so he cautiously eased the door open.

  It swung open soundlessly and he peeked in. The room was in darkness but there was enough light to make out the hump that was Marjorie in the bed. With his heart beating fast from both lust and fear and with hot breath rasping in his throat Willy plucked up the courage to step into the room. Very he gently closed the door. A rusty hinge complained, sending a shriek of fear up Willy’s nerves.

  There was a rustling noise from Marjorie’s bed and Willy froze, afraid that she might call out in alarm. ‘What if she cries out?’ he thought. ‘How will I explain it to my parents?’ But desire urged him on and he began to tip-toe towards her bed. The bed squeaked and Willy saw a dark form rise up- Marjorie’s head.

  “Is that you Willy?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Willy croaked back as softly as he could.

  Marjorie half sat up and said, “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

  That and the fact that she was whispering and not yelling for help caused Willy to sigh with relief and emboldened him to move across to her. “Is it alright?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Marjorie murmured back. “Come on, hop in and give me a nice cuddle,” she added.

  The idea of actually getting into bed with her introduced a whole new level of anxiety. Willy nerved himself to act, chiding himself for being a coward. ‘Come on, move man!’ he told himself. His manhood was being challenged. But he knew it was wrong, knew that he shouldn’t, if only for her sake. But he was now in the grip of lust and he moved.

  Marjorie flung the bedclothes aside in invitation as Willy reached the bed. There he paused and looked down in shock. Even though it was dark he could tell by the paleness that he could see that Marjorie was naked. ‘Oh this is going to be a challenge,’ he thought. Anxiety about things going too far and of all the dreadful consequences that might follow crowded his brain. But so did the pounding surge of desire. Marjorie reached out and took his hand and drew him forward.

  Willy did not resist. It still seemed like an impossible dream. He had never experienced anything like this. He nerved himself in an attempt to regain self-control- then chided himself for being a coward. His manhood was being challenged. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was a risk. But Oh!- How he wanted to! - needed to!

  With a gulp of anxiety Willy climbed onto the bed. Marjorie reached up and he slid into her arms. To Willy the touch of her was an electrifying shock. She was naked! As she pressed against him and his hands moved over her smooth, warm skin Willy felt his resistance crumbling. His emotions were in turmoil. After many minutes of fondling, stroking and kissing Marjorie drew him down onto the bed. Willy followed in a lust filled daze. The bed springs squeaked as Marjorie lay back. Willy stopped to listen, his heart pounding so hard the noise swashed in his ears. In the distance he heard a motor start with a sound like the buzzing of an angry bee. There was no sound from the adult’s bedrooms.

  For a few minutes they lay together, Willy enjoying the sheer sensual pleasure of the feel of her warm skin on his. It felt wonderful. But his mind was full of doubts and fears about them losing control and going too far so after a few more minutes of passionate kissing and stroking he stopped. He raised himself on trembling arms and drew back. ‘This is wrong,’ he told himself. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ Then another thought came to torment his already anxious conscience: what about Barbara and his love for her?

  Willy drew back into a crouch and prepared to endure the scorn and contempt he felt sure were bound to follow.

  Marjorie half sat up. “What’s the matter Willy?” she moaned.

  Willy licked dry lips and cleared his throat to explain. Then he froze.

  What was that?

  A bed. In the next room. It had creaked loudly as though someone had just climbed out of it. There were rustling noises. Clothes? More faint noises. Yes! Someone was awake. Was it Uncle Ted or Aunty Isabel?

  Willy felt panic well up. He crouched back on the bed. Marjorie still gripped him. Firmly he released her hand. He tried to whisper but was unable to speak. Gingerly he lowered one leg down onto the floor, then the other. Carefully he stood up, cursing the bed as it made a noise.

  Marjorie grabbed at his hand but he shook her off. “Willy!” she murmured, frustration and desire clear in her tone.

  As he stood there with awful images of being caught with no reasonable explanation Willy heard, with mounting horror, soft footsteps come out into the hallway and towards the bedroom door.

  CHAPTER 3

  UNCLE TED

  Willy stood panic-stricken. ‘What can I say? How can I explain being in Marjorie’s room in the middle of the night- and nude?’ he wondered. Anticipatory shame scorched his cheeks. He contemplated hiding and cast around for a place. Then he remembered his pyjamas, just as the footsteps reached the door.

  Willy bent down and groped for his pants, then paused. The footsteps had gone on along the hallway and out onto the back veranda. Warm relief was succeeded by another wave of cold fear. Uncle Ted had just walked past. ‘He will see my empty stretcher!’

  Willy’s mind raced. How could he explain it? The toilet! The lie sprang instantly to the fore. But that made Willy feel sick inside. He despised himself for even thinking it. He did not want to live a lie.

  He broke into a sweat as he strained his ears. ‘Which way has Uncle Ted gone?’ he worried. But he could not tell. He began to shake with anxiety as he fumbled to pull on his pyjamas.

  Marjorie whispered: “He’s gone. Come on.”

  “No. He will see my empty stretcher. I’m going,” Willy repli
ed in a hoarse croak.

  “Come back after he’s gone back to bed,” Marjorie persisted.

  Willy didn’t answer. He just wanted to get out of that room. To his shame he had to calm himself so that his fingers could fasten the pants. Then he felt around and snatched up his top and struggled into it. As he went to button it up he realised he had pulled it on inside-out. With a silent curse he peeled it off and turned it right side-out.

  Anxiously he tip-toed to the door and paused to listen. ‘I don’t want to meet Uncle Ted on his way back,’ he told himself. For a few seconds he strained to hear, annoyed by the interference from his own rasping breath. He pulled on the pyjama top and buttoned it up with fumbling fingers.

  Not a sound. Not even the wind in the trees.

  “Willy!” Marjorie moaned softly.

  He ignored her and eased the door partly open. The hinge grated. Sweat broke out again. Cautiously he slid through, paused to close the door, then walked quickly along the corridor. A pause to listen and a quick glance through the door. No sign of Uncle Ted on the veranda. Willy snuck out and carefully rolled onto his stretcher.

  In spite of all his care the stretcher complained loudly. Willy lay back and squirmed into the sleeping bag, cursing every squeak from the stretcher springs. At last he was in. He tried to relax. A fit of trembling shook him. His throat felt very dry. The fright had made him lose all interest in sex.

  After a few minutes he calmed down. The perspiration cooled and he shivered. He groped for the zip and did the sleeping bag slowly up. Then he lay still until he became uncomfortable. Realizing this was now silly he wriggled into a more comfortable position. Then he lay there wide awake, his thoughts in turmoil.

  Beside him Stephen grunted and rolled on his back. He began to snore. Willy peered at him. Had he noticed? And where was Uncle Ted? He hadn’t come back. ‘Did he go around to the front of the house? What is he doing up at this hour anyway?’ Willy wondered. He guessed it was well after midnight. Still in a state of emotional turmoil he snuggled down and tried to go to sleep. There was no way he was going back to Marjorie’s room!