The strident voice of mummy made Robin jump. “I hope you’re not showing off in front of Alice?”
Robin twisted his head round. Mummy didn’t like boys who lacked self-control, but no matter how many times Robin had tried to explain that boys in general and he himself in particular couldn’t always account for the behaviour of their willies, mummy would still accuse him of being wilful. ‘Wilfully showing off’, was the way she put it, as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough for a boy to have an erection in front of mummy.
Alice turned to her mother: “Mummy... look what willy-winky is doing…”
“Please… I can’t help it…” Robin pleaded, his penis still pointing resolutely towards Alice.
“Willy-winky is being ever so naughty… isn’t he mummy?” Alice said. She seemed to Robin to be intent on making matters worse for him. What was it with girls? he thought. Why did they always want to get boys into trouble? Wasn’t it bad enough to be kept standing in the front-room, in the nude, with everyone watching?
Alice’s mum ‘tut-tutted’ her disapproval. It was clear that she too took a dim view of boys who showed off. That ‘tut-tut’ appeared to be a signal, although it was lost on Robin. At once Alice dropped the lemon-yellow nylon pyjama-jacket into her lap and, in the blink of an eye, smacked the head of Robin’s penis sharply with her open right hand. The sudden slap took Robin by complete surprise. Even though the head of his penis was covered by his foreskin the blow had stung enough to bring a tear to Robin’s eye. Alice had smacked Robin’s penis so hard that it was a few moments before it stopped bouncing and when it did waggle to rest it was only to receive another slap from Alice’s hand.
“MUMMY!!” Robin yelled, “Mummy… make her stop!”
But it was clear mummy was not going to intervene. Instead she told Robin what a naughty, wilful boy he was being, telling him he had no excuse to get excited and to show off in front of Alice who was only trying to help mummy get him ready for bed.
“But mummy… she’s hitting my… my willy!”
“Don’t be such a baby… It serves you right for showing off in front of Alice…”
“Ow!!” Robin jumped as his willy received a third smack from Alice’s hand.
As Robin’s penis waggled to rest again it became apparent that Alice’s ministrations were having an effect… Robin’s penis was now almost limp.
Then, almost as if nothing had happened, Alice picked up the lemon-yellow nylon pyjama-jacket again and jiggled it in front of Robin and spoke: “I hope willy-winky has learnt his lesson?”
Robin said nothing and stood sulking.
“Well… has he?” Alice said when no reply was forthcoming.
Robin pouted: “Yes…”
“That’s better,” Alice said and turned to her mother, “I think it’s best if I put Robin into his special nylon pyjamas tonight, mummy. What with willy-winky being so naughty…”
“Best to be safe than sorry,” Alice’s mum agreed.
Robin really didn’t understand the logic. It was Alice who’d asked to see the horrid lemon-yellow nylon pyjamas. It was Alice who was going to put him into these pyjamas whether he wanted to wear them or not. It was Alice who’s teased him while he was kept waiting in the nude… teased him so much that his willy had started to go all stiff and bonky. There had been no question about winky misbehaving, but now somehow Robin was taking the blame for being put into his ‘special’ pyjamas! How unfair was that?!
Then Alice asked Robin another question: “Is willy-winky going to make a mess in your pyjamas tonight?”
Inwardly Robin groaned: “I… I don’t know…” he replied.
“... but why did willy-winky misbehave if he’s not going to make stuff?”
Robin turned to mummy. Surely she would understand, he thought. He knew mummy thought winky was naughty on purpose, but he wanted her to stop Alice from asking him any more embarrassing questions. Mummy must have seen something in the way Robin looked and decided that a mother’s advice was needed.
“Alice dear, in time you will come to realise how boys can sometimes have great difficulty in controlling their little winkies. Boys always blame winky, but it's all down to a lack of self-control. Why, winky often misbehaves at bathtime… doesn’t he, Robin?”
“Yes, mummy…” Robin replied with his head bowed in shame.
“... but just because willy-winky is being naughty in front of you, Alice doesn’t mean he’s going to have a little accident and make a mess…. does it, Robin?” mummy said.
“Now you’d better get Robin into his pyjamas, Alice... it’s already way past Robin’s bedtime.”
“Yes, Mrs Greene,” Alice replied and turned her attention once more to Master Robin.
“Come along now, Robin… you heard what mummy just said… it’s well past time for your bed-e-byes,” Alice said and for all the world making it sound as if it were Robin causing the delay, “Why on earth you insisted on showing me your nylon pyjamas… I suppose you thought you could have a bedtime extension while mummy undressed you… keep quiet while I put you into your pyjamas, Robin… there is no need to make a fuss… just because you think it’s clever to show off and let little willy-winky misbehave, there’s no reason for… Robin!”
Robin had turned his back on Alice. He was so upset at being accused of wanting to be put to bed wearing the horrid, itchy, lemon-yellow nylon pyjamas and of deliberately trying to extend his bedtime, that tears of frustration had started to trickle down his face. He, a fourteen year old boy, didn’t want Alice, a little girl and his junior by some two years, to see him reduced to tears by her taunts and teasing.
“Robin…” Alice repeated.
Mummy was about to intervene, but she looked over at Mavis, Alice’s mum who signalled that it might be best to let Alice deal with Robin in her own way, and she changed her mind.
“Robin… turn around and let me look at you,” Alice said. She was still holding the lemon-yellow pyjama-jacket with its frolicking bunny-rabbit print. “Don’t be shy, Robin…”
Robin glanced towards his mother and the unsaid instruction was clear enough. He slowly turned to face his tormentor again.
“You see what happens when you stay up past your bedtime, Robin?” Alice said sweetly, “I’m sure that if you’d behaved yourself earlier and gone to bed when mummy had you in your pyjamas the first time, we wouldn’t have had all this fuss and silliness, would we? You’re an overtired little boy, Robin and the sooner we get you tucked up in bed, the better… Now let’s have your arms into your pyjama-jacket.”
Robin was too upset to put up any resistance. He’d stopped crying, but the salty tears were still damp on his face. Robin felt utterly ashamed for allowing himself to be so completely humiliated by a girl two years younger than he, but what choice did he have? None at all... not if he was to avoid admonishment. As it was, Robin knew he was perilously close to being the recipient of a red-hot, stinging botty. Willy-winky misbehaving had not helped his cause. Such was the depth of Robin’s shame, he stood meekly in front of Alice as she carefully buttoned up the pyjama-jacket. The nylon felt cold and cheerless against his bare skin. Robin hated wearing his special pyjamas.
As for Alice, why that evening she had found new depths to her understanding of girls superiority over boys. Robin might be older than she, but like all boys could never be considered mature enough to look after himself properly. Boys, in her view, were silly creatures who thought that just because they had willy-winky to play with, girls were somehow inferior to them. Well, they were wrong and the fact they thought that way only proved her to be right.
It was time for Robin to be put into his nylon pyjama-bottoms. Alice remembered what Robin’s mummy had said about rubbing in some calamine lotion for the heat-rash the nylon pyjamas sometimes caused. She offered to apply some, but Robin politely declined. Alice pulled the itchy pyjama-bottoms up and made sure the pyjama-jacket was tucked neatly in before she pulled the waist-cord tight and tied a knot.
“On your own head be it… just don’t expect mummy to come up and see to you if you get a heat-rash on your little boy-bits,” Alice said as she carefully smoothed a few creases from Robin’s pyjamas. Then she turned to his mummy, “Robin’s all dressed in his nice pyjamas and ready to be taken upstairs and tucked up in bed, Mrs Greene.”
“Thank you, Alice… we’ll take Robin up to bed in a moment, but first I want to tell you how impressed I am with how you’ve helped me to get Robin ready for bed. Your mother has every reason to be proud of you.”
Alice blushed at the compliment paid her and thanked Mrs Greene. Then it was time for Robin to be taken up to his bedroom. Climbing the stairs Robin at once started to feel the uncomfortable effects of the nylon rubbing against his bare skin, but he was determined not to say anything for fear of having the calamine lotion being forced upon him and applied by Alice.
Robin’s bedroom was typical for a boy his age. As Alice looked around and surveyed the chaos, she marvelled that anyone could live in such an untidy mess. Her mouth fell open when Mrs Greene explained that Robin was made to tidy his room regularly, but that it only took him a day or two for it to look just as cluttered as they saw it now.
“At least Robin’s bed is made up properly,” Alice said as she looked at the small, single divan. Robin blushed as Alice drew attention to the bedspread, the Superhero design of which was the same as the winceyette pyjamas Robin had been put into earlier. Alice leant forward to pull the sheets down a little way and then plumped the pillow. “Come along, Robin… into bed with you,” she said, sounding for all the world as if she’d been putting boys to bed for years. Robin climbed into his bed and Alice made a great fuss of tucking him in properly.
“Well done, Alice,” Mrs Greene said as she brushed a stray piece of cotton from Robin’s bedspread, “I couldn’t have done better myself… I’ll have to think of you whenever I need a babysitter for Robin and I could use an extra pair of hands at bathtime…”
“MUMMY…!!” Robin blurted out as he made his feelings known, “I’m fourteen mummy… I don’t won’t a girl in the bathroom… I mean…”
“Whatever’s the matter, Robin,” mummy interrupted, “Alice is a very sensible girl and I’m sure…”
“But mummy… I’ll be in the bath...”
“What of it, Robin? Alice has already seen all there is to see... and helping me with you at bathtime is no different from helping me get you ready for bed… now is it?”
Robin wasn’t convinced by mummy’s argument, but knew it would be pointless to quarrel. It never did any good to disagree with mummy as he knew to his cost, so he mumbled something that sounded like an agreement.
“Straight to sleep now, Robin… No reading-time tonight, it’s well past your bedtime,” mummy said, “You’ve Alice to thank for persuading me to allow you to stay up so late…”
As his bedroom light was switched off and Alice and his mummy left his bedroom, Robin had a thought. Well, if I’ve been put into my ‘special’ pyjamas, mummy won’t be that surprised if I ‘accidently’ have an emission during the night, he reasoned. He stared up at the ceiling, smiled and thought to himself, ‘and there’s only one way to be sure that I do have an emission…’
Robin slid a hand down beneath the sheets until his fingers reached the fly-gap of his detested nylon pyjamas. The very thought of doing something as naughty as playing with himself had already had an effect on his penis and in seconds Robin had eased his stiff rod through the fly. It felt so good to stroke his penis after so much torment and embarrassment. Robin thought he deserved the pleasure of a good wank after all he’d been through. He took his penis in both hands and played with his foreskin before squeezing his fist around the head of his very, very stiff penis. Alert to every little noise he made, Robin started to masturbate and as his breathing became heavier, so his need for release became more urgent. Like most boys the quality of his orgasm was secondary to the climax itself, so it wasn’t very long at all before Robin felt himself approaching the point of no return and with a muffled gasp squirted his cum over his nylon pyjamas. He carefully wiped his sticky fingers and eased his penis back into his pyjamas-bottoms before drifting off to sleep.
The next morning mummy came to wake Robin. He decided speak first: “Sorry mummy, I think I’ve had another… um, emission…”
“Oh, darling... it was probably all the excitement last night… it’s just as well Alice put you into your special pyjamas…”
On their arrival at Aunty Daisy’s house in Lockton mummy had discovered there were no play-clothes for Robin to wear. Mummy decided there was only one thing for it and that was to put Robin straight into his pyjamas. Quite understandably she was not going to risk Robin getting his best clothes scuffed and dirty. Robin had travelled to Lockton dressed in his short trouser suit and if you were fortunate enough to see Robin on the train, you would understand the emphasis was most definitely on the word short. Unlike his school uniform shorts which Robin had been wearing ever since he started at St John’s when he was eleven, Robin’s short trouser suit was a relatively recent addition to his wardrobe. It was, perhaps, a signal from mummy that Robin would be expected to wear short trousers for a good while yet.
Naturally Robin was thrilled when mummy said to him one day about seven months ago that it was time she bought him something nice to wear other than his school uniform. Robin immediately began to think of long trousers and denim jeans and all those other styles of casual clothes he’d seen boys wearing… boys who generally laughed and pointed at Robin when they saw he was wearing play-shorts. I’ll show them, thought Robin.
However, Robin was in for a disappointment when he discovered what mummy had in mind. It wasn’t to be casual clothes, it was to be a short trouser suit! And not just any old short trouser suit, it was to be something she called a continental short trouser suit. Where, or from whom mummy had heard about the continental suit, Robin had no idea, but that was the least of his worries. Robin had never before seen anything like it in his life. The little shorts were even shorter than his three year old school shorts. We mustn’t forget that Robin had grown quite a bit in the last eighteen months; into that stage of a boy’s development when his legs were becoming disproportionately long and it seemed as if his school shorts were exposing a little bit more upper thigh each day.
The cut and feel of the continental shorts was new to Robin and as he pulled them up he was astonished to find how little there was to the legs… indeed there didn’t appear to Robin to be any legs to the shorts at all! Not surprisingly Robin complained about how exposed he felt wearing the continental shorts, but was told that was how they were supposed to look… that was the fashion. It was also the fashion apparently to wear little ankle socks and sandals with the continental suit.
The little jacket which came with the suit was also very short, what is known as a bum-freezer. It was cut as the name suggests, no lower than the boy’s lower back to leave the short trousers completely on show. The jacket had long lapels that went right down to the boy’s tummy, so that a splendidly colourful waistcoat could be seen.
The continental suit was most definitely not what Robin had in mind when mummy had told him she was going to buy him something new to wear. But as mummy explained, she wanted Robin to look smart and to have something nice to wear for special occasions. Of course one such special occasion was the trip to Lockton and now, quite understandably, Robin was told to change out of his nice suit.
“Come through to the front-room,” Aunty Daisy said and Robin understood he was to be treated just the same as he was at home. “I think I have something we can change Robin into that might be better than his bedtime pyjamas… now let me see… what did I do with them? Why don’t you get Robin out of his nice little suit while I go and find what it is I’m looking for?”
Robin, though delighted to be spared being put into his pyjamas at two-thirty in the afternoon, was nonetheless cautious in his optimism. Whatever it was that Aunty Daisy might have for him to wear in the absence of play-clothes could in all likelihood be as hideous as any other clothes Robin had been expected to wear over the years. So as mummy ‘helped’ him to undress, Robin began to wish he hadn’t forgotten to pack his play-clothes.
Mummy was just about to relieve Robin of his ultra-brief underpants when Aunty Daisy reappeared. As the underpants were removed to leave Robin bare-nude he tried to make out what Aunty Daisy was holding in her hands.
“Oh… excuse me,” Aunty Daisy said and turned to leave the room when she saw that Robin was completely bare. She’d expected her friend Olivia to leave Robin's underpants in place.
“No need to be embarrassed, Daisy… Robin doesn't mind, do you darling?”
Mummy didn’t expect a reply and Robin knew very well he could hardly object since he was always put into his pyjamas downstairs at home… no matter who happened to be visiting. But this state of affairs didn’t mean that Robin was in anyway inured to being stripped bare in front of mummy’s friends. Far from it. Robin constantly found himself embarrassed beyond belief and nothing he said had any effect. He was a boy and boys, he was told, needn’t worry about something so trivial as being seen in the bare by mummy’s friends. Or mummy’s friends’ daughters, he might have added.
Aunty Daisy held out the garments she was holding. There didn’t look to be much there to Robin.
“I believe they’re called ‘shorty-pyjamas’,” Aunty Daisy explained, “They were left some time ago by Eunice’s son when they came to stay… ooo, must have been nearly a year ago… charming little boy, a bit younger than Robin… twelve I believe… but I’m sure they’ll fit… and they’ll be just the thing for Robin to play in...”
“That’s very good of you, Daisy,” Olivia said as she thanked her friend.
The shorty-pyjamas proved to be short in every respect. Not only were the pyjama-bottoms just as short as Robin’s shortest school shorts, but the pyjama-top was short-sleeved as well! In fact you might as well have called the top ‘sleeveless’ since the ‘arms’ only just about covered the top of Robin’s shoulders.
The shorty-pyjamas were described as ‘lightweight summertime nightwear for boys’ and clearly designed to be worn on warm nights when it was too hot for regular boy's pyjamas. They were therefore made from the lightest possible winceyette cloth and the fact they had been well worn, made them appear to be very flimsy indeed. On the plus side this meant the teddy-bear pattern had, in parts, faded.
Mummy thought the skimpy shorty-pyjamas were the perfect solution to the absence of Robin’s play-clothes. Together with a pair of red plastic sandals (which had been packed), it was all that Robin needed to enjoy his holiday.
“What do you say, Robin?” mummy prompted her son once he was dressed in his hand-me-down play-pyjamas.
“Thank you, Aunty Daisy,” Robin said, but felt anything but thankful for his playwear. Already he felt extremely exposed in the shorty-pyjamas.
“Now why don’t you go out and play, Robin?” Aunty Daisy said, “You can leave me and your mother in peace for a while so we can catch up with one another…”
“I dunno… can’t I stay in?” Robin replied. The thought of leaving Aunty Daisy’s house to go outside and play he found frankly unnerving.
“Don’t be such an old sick-in-the-mud, Robin,” Aunty Daisy childed him, “It’s lovely and sunny outside… go out and make the most of it…”
“That’s enough, Robin… Do as your Aunty Daisy says and leave us in peace for a bit,” mummy said settling the matter, “... but don’t go too far,” she added.
There was no danger of Robin venturing further from the house than he had to. He felt very vulnerable in his shorty-pyjamas and so contented himself with exploring Aunty Daisy’s garden. He found there was a field beyond the bottom of the garden and his natural boyish curiosity soon got the better of him. He was just about to clamber over a gate when he heard a boy’s voice behind him:
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… there’s stock in that field and they wouldn’t take kindly to a little boy in his pyjamas running about…”
“I can’t see anything,” Robin said.
“They’re over on the other side of that rise… they’re probably grazing in the next field… the gate’s open so they can come and go,” the boy explained, “If you don’t believe me… but I wouldn’t go in there in your pyjamas…”
“These aren’t my pyjamas,” Robin said and told the boy how he was visiting and how his play-clothes had been left behind at home and how his Aunty Daisy (“She not my real aunty… she’s a friend of my mum’s” he explained) had found him an old pair of shorty-pyjamas to wear to play in. Robin stopped rambling on and looked at the boy who was wearing the type of casual clothes of which Robin could only dream. He realised that it was probably just as well his embarrassingly juvenile play-clothes had been left at home.
“My name’s Harold,” the boy announced, “But everyone calls me Hal… What’s your name?”
“Robin… everyone calls me, er Robin,” Robin joked, trying to make light of the fact that no one had given him a nickname.
“Well I’m going to call you Rob,” Hal said firmly, then added “… if that’s okay with you?”.
Robin suddenly felt as if he was going to get along with Hal: “Sure… sure… I’d like to be called Rob…”
“Let’s shake on it then,” Hal said and the boys solemnly shook hands.
“Hal… do you mind if I ask you something?” Robin asked.
“Ask away… you can ask me anything, Rob,” came the reply.
“It was… well, how come you’re allowed in Aunty Daisy’s garden?”
“Hmm… well the honest answer to that is that I’m not… In fact I’ve been forbidden to set foot inside…”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Hal smiled a big generous smile: “When has that ever put you off doing anything? Rob, haven’t you learnt that there’s nothing more exciting than doing something when you’re told not to do it?”
Robin considered this piece of wisdom and Hal’s explanation seemed perfectly reasonable and he swore not to tell a soul how he’d seen Hal in the garden.
“Look, I’ve got to go now,” Hal said, “Let’s meet up tomorrow… okay? I can show you around if you like.”
“Yeah, that’d be great… I’d like to do some exploring… that’d be fun,” Robin replied and the boys agreed to meet the following day straight after breakfast.
“Tomorrow it is,” Hal said, then added, “By the way… those shorty-pyjamas… cool…” He turned and disappeared.
Robin stood still and savoured Hal’s compliment. Wow! No boy had ever said anything as remotely nice about his clothes as Hal had just done. He felt himself blushing… blushing with pride!
Time seemed to drag for Robin the following morning. He couldn’t wait to get changed into his shorty play-pyjamas and out into the garden again to meet his new friend. He wolfed down his breakfast with little thought to the inevitable mess he was making.
Aunty Daisy reprimanded him: “Just look at you... food everywhere, Robin… what’s all the hurry?”
“I, er… I wanted to do some exploring… It’s a terrific garden…” Robin replied, adding a bit of flattery and thinking it might help.
“Well that’s very kind of you to say so, Robin… but I thought you were a bit reluctant to go out yesterday… what’s changed your mind?”
“I dunno… nothing really,” Robin replied evasively, careful not to give away Hal’s secret.
“You know what boys are like, Daisy… one minute they don’t want to do what you ask them and the next they can’t wait… Robin’s just the same,” mummy said.
Robin thought this appraisal was a bit unfair, since he always tried his best to do what mummy asked. It would be unthinkable to flatly refuse to do what mummy said... that path led straight to Mrs Walsh.
“Now let’s get you out of your pyjamas and up into the bathroom for a wash before you go out to play,” mummy added.
“Why not use the kitchen, Olivia? You can give Robin a strip-wash here… his shorty-pyjamas are still in the front-room where he left them last night,” Aunty Daisy said.
“Good idea, Daisy… okay Robin, let’s get you out of your pyjamas…”
Robin still felt rather shy being undressed in front of Aunty Daisy and would have preferred the relative privacy of the bathroom in which to be given his morning ablutions and changed ready for the day ahead. But it was not to be and just like every other day, mummy helped him out of his pyjamas and then supervised Robin as he washed himself, taking command of the facecloth when she saw he wasn’t doing it properly. For instance, mummy was forever criticising the state of Robin’s ears, “... you could grow potatoes in there…” she would say.
So, while Aunty Daisy got on with some chores in the kitchen, Robin, bare-nude once more, had his morning wash at the kitchen sink. Afterwards as mummy towelled him dry, Robin wondered what he and Hal would get up to during the day.
Robin: Part 3 Story Index