Dick and Pussy

by N Fourbois

Chapter 1

A Story after the Pantomime
'Dick Whittington and his Amazing Cat'
as retold by
N Fourbois

"As I walked out one midsummer morning…" Laurie Lee was not the first lad to walk out of a Gloucestershire village to seek his fortune in London. His village was Slad in the Stroud valleys. Some three hundred and fifty years earlier Richard Whittington departed from the village of Pauntley on the other side of the River Severn and now deemed to be in the Forest of Dean, likewise to seek his fortune.

It was the first of May and Dick was standing on the periphery of the May Day celebrations on the village green, scarcely conscious of the village maidens dancing round the maypole for his thoughts were elsewhere. Not for him the girls in their pretty dresses, but standing a couple of yards in front of him was his childhood friend, also sporting his May Day finery of a red and gold tunic over a pair of tight hose in fashionable Lincoln green. Dick watched with lust in his eyes as Luke Beringar walked about the village green and his pert little buttocks, separated by the tight fitting hose, swayed in time with his steps, even better when he turned sideways and Dick could catch the profile of his package. He felt, nay relished, the swelling of his cock against the confines of his own the tights and against the brand new cod piece he had purchased at the travelling fair as it pitched its tents and booths for the early spring celebrations.

But that was as far as it went. The previous day had seen to that. From sunset that evening the village had been in festive mood and the cider fermented from last season's apples grown at the nearby Brand Green fruit farm was flowing freely. Dick's father, Sir William Whittington, was a generous lord of the manor. In return his men worked hard for him and together they made Pauntley a prosperous parish. Already Dick's elder brother was, as was customary, training to take over the management of the estate, which left the second son the choice of joining the church as priest or monk, or making his own way in the world. The first option with its celibacy, and incidentally an ancient form of birth control, would have provided the ideal solution to Dick's little problem, that is to say ideal for everyone apart from Dick.

However, let's return to Luke's pert little bottom.

Okay, fine, now we've done that we must continue with the story. Unguarded as the cider was, a flagon could easily be purloined and Dick and Luke duly lifted one and disappeared into to the hayloft of a barn on the Whittington estate. You must understand that Brand Green cider was not Strongbow; it was real country scrumpy and less than half a pint was all it needed to put Dick into an amorous mood. Up to that point he had always kept his little secret to himself. None of family knew; just Luke suspected. Now with his inhibitions swept away, Dick took Luke in one arm, kissed him on the lips and slipped his free hand up into the crotch of his tights. Luke was having none of it. He pulled himself free, hit Dick across the face, poured the remaining cider over his tights and said "I never want to have anything to do with you again," and stormed out of the barn. Shocked, Dick simply lay there, the cider took control and he fell asleep until woken by the strains of the cock. To avoid misunderstanding, this was, by the way, a rooster, not Dick's penis.

You might have thought that Dick felt terrible from the effects of the cider, but his little indiscretion which led to the wastage of the cider prevented overindulgence. Some will argue that cider never causes a hangover, anyway. As the sun rose on May Day, Dick continued lying there thinking. His hose was feeling sticky – nothing new there except that this time it was caused by cider. Finally his thoughts crystallised into a plan of action. He wandered back to the manor house. His mother was in the kitchen supervising the baking of the May Day goodies. "Morning, Mum."

"Good morning, Richard." That was the first indication that he might not be in best favour. "You look as if you've been sleeping in a haystack."

"Close," said Dick. "I fell asleep in the hayloft after Luke and me were drinking cider."

"But he made it home. We were worried about you. Get those tights off and I'll get one of the girls to launder them."

"I bet you say that to all the boys."

"Richard!" said Lady Whittington, wagging a warning finger. "This is your mother you're talking to."

Dick had decided he would enjoy May Day, whether Luke was talking to him or not. May Day would be his last day in Pauntley for on the following morning at cockcrow he would be off to London to seek his fortune.

May Day was going to have its difficulties too. Dick was going to have to say goodbye without arousing any suspicion, or at least get the idea across that he was safe and hadn't been kidnapped by the gypsies. He started skipping up and down, singing at the top of his voice "My mother said I never should talk to the gypsies in the wood." There was only one person he could trust to do tell people, and he was no longer speaking to him. He had to mingle among the village people, act normally, and yet steal away from time to time to prepare for his getaway.

Which brings us back to the dancing round the maypole. "Luke!"

"Go away, Dick. I don't want to talk to you."

"Stop, Luke, and listen. I need to talk to you. Just this one time and you'll never see me again." Luke relented and turned round with a certain look of shock on his face. He could see from Dick's face that he was deadly serious. "Luke, we may no longer be friends, but I still trust you. One last favour. Please." Luke could no longer resist. "Tomorrow I shall no longer be here. I am going to London. The streets are paved with gold there and I want to seek my fortune. There's nothing for me here in Pauntley, apart from labouring on my father's estate. This is no place for a gayboy. I want you to keep all this secret until they discover I'm gone. By then I'll be halfway to Gloucester or to Tewkesbury. Tell them I'm safe and not to worry. You can even tell them I'm gay. It won't matter."

By then Luke was beginning to look a bit sheepish. 'It's all right, Luke. You're safe,' thought Dick. 'I know sheep are fair game round here. Just not teenage boys,' but he kept it to himself.

"Okay, Dick, I'll do that for you. I promise, but don't think it makes us friends again. It doesn't, but you can trust me." Dick wanted to give his ex-friend a hug; he just didn't dare to.

Dick went home and was particularly attentive in saying good night to his family before going up to bed early.


The cockerel crowed. There was that glow in the sky, so typical of the predawn on summer days. The weather was set fair, which Dick took as a good omen for his adventure. He looked around his room. He had his worldly possessions in a backpack, his small savings well hidden inside his hose, but keen to live up to the image, he had cut his stick ready. He just needed to make a careful choice of kerchief in which to tie his most personal belongings. He sat on his bed and thought. He did so want to leave a note behind for his mother and father, telling them not worry, but since this was the fourteenth century, paper, vellum and parchment were so expensive as to be virtually non-existent, although he had learnt to form and read his letters and numbers at the hand of the village priest.

'That's it,' he thought. 'I can use my favourite turquoise neckerchief. Now, neckerchief codes. Let me get this right. Stick over the right shoulder looking for cock to suck, stick over the left shoulder looking for someone to suck my cock. Better be careful there. I can always switch it over to my left should if I see someone I fancy.' He knotted the kerchief and tied it to the end of his stick. He looked around his room for the last time and stole out quietly into the fresh dewy morning.

He decided to head south and east on the Gloucester route. He expected to reach the city by nightfall and he had heard that the Bishop of Gloucester was a kindly man who gave genuine travellers lodging, sustenance and comfort, provided they moved on in the morning. In his exuberance Dick leapt over the gate by the track and headed along the road. He hadn't gone a hundred yards when he heard a mewing. He turned round and a black cat, its colour broken only by the pale olive of its eyes. "Pssst," hissed Dick. "Shoo! Go home, puss. I'm not coming back. Pssst!"

Dick recognised the creature. It was left over from their house cat's last litter. He had been ordered to put the kittens in a sack and drown them in the stream, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and so had taken them out deep into the countryside and released them to their own fate. But this one, the only completely black one in the litter, had persisted in following him home. It was not allowed to settle in the house. Its own mother made sure of that. It had settled in the barn, adopted by the outdoor dogs strangely, and earnt its keep by copying the Jack Russell terriers and keeping the rats and mice down.

"Pssst!" hissed Dick again, but the cat just looked at him in a curious manner and continued to follow. "Okay, puss. Have it your own way," at which the young cat just ran, sprang in the air and landed on Dick's left shoulder. Dick gave in. "All right. Learn the hard way, but you're walking. I've got enough to carry." And the cat continued, walking beside him. They reached the first crossroads and he stopped to read the finger post. The cat mewed and looked up at him. Dick looked back at it. "It's obvious that we're going to be buddies and so I'd better give you a name, puss. You shall be Tom. Yes, Tom Cat, that sounds about right. Come along, Tom. We've got to reach Gloucester before nightfall and there's over two leagues to go."

Dick was now traversing new territory. He had once been to Newent, but that was in the opposite direction. The dew had evaporated and the sun was warming up the day. He was beginning to feel peckish. He had not eaten any breakfast. He unwrapped the buns he had taken from the kitchen and nibbled one as he plodded along the way. He offered a scrap to Tom, which the cat refused, almost with disdain. Then he disappeared into the undergrowth. After a couple of minutes he returned with a vole in his mouth. Now Tom had his breakfast.

They carried on along the road as it gently dipped towards the valley of the River Severn. Dick noticed the sun had lost its warmth and that a black cloud on the horizon was no longer on the horizon, but rapidly approaching. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder and out of nowhere appeared a large rat. Hissing, Tom arched his back, raised his tail and the hackles went up on his back. The rat stood on its hind legs, nearing Dick's height and spoke in a threatening manner. "And you, young man, who are you and where do think you are going?"

"I am Richard Whittington of Pauntley in the shire of Gloucester on my way to London, sir," replied Dick, as yet unable to gauge the situation, "to make my fortune."

"And I am King Rat and none make a fortune in London, save that I say so, and my first command is that you get rid of that scrawny puss in case it becomes a threat to my army of mice and rats that control that rich city." Tom hissed again.

"Out of my way, knave. This is the King's highway and open to every traveller," and he pushed the rat out of the way. Tom leapt on the outsize rodent and scratched its face.

"You will regret that, both of you. If we meet again, it will be in London and you will rue the day we first met." Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled and suddenly the rat was no longer to be seen.

The sky lightened and within seconds it was a warm early summer's day without a cloud in the sky. Tom was on Dick's shoulder, seeking mutual comfort and consolation. Before a minute was out a wingèd young gentleman glided down from the trees and landed on the highway in front of them. He was dressed in a pale green bodice and primrose yellow hose which left no doubt that this was no conventional Christmas tree type fairy. "Have no fear, fair boy and courageous cat. I am but a fairy." Dick thought he was stating the obvious, but was too courteous to say anything. "Fairy Rosebud is my name. King Rat is powerful, especially in his own domain and you have made a vicious and vengeful enemy. But for the brave and righteous good will always prevail in the battle o'er evil. But battles there will always be and you must be brave and fight them. You will have your setbacks. However, never forget that I, Fairy Rosebud, shall be watching your back, (and front too, methinks) and never be far away." At that there was a cloud of sparkles and the tinkling of bells as Fairy Rosebud rose and taking his leave, flew into the trees bordering the highway and disappeared.


Dick had no idea of the hour, but the sun was farther round than he would have expected. "Come on, Tom. We must reach Gloucester before dusk or they won't let us over the bridge at Over and we shall have nowhere to put our heads." They continued along the road until they reached a three way split. They took the eastern route, hiked to the brow of a hill and there beheld in the distance the mighty tower of Gloucester abbey church and cathedral. Heartened by this sign of progress they quickened their pace and were surprised when they sooner than expected reached Westgate Bridge over the River Severn. They crossed and were immediately in the town centre. They walked up the street towards the cathedral. Dick paused only to admire the grand fineries on display at the gents' outfitter's emporium on the corner of the street leading to the cathedral close. "You know, Tom, one day I shall be able to afford such fine wear and if I ever return to Gloucestershire, I shall make sure my coach halts here."

Evening prayer had just finished. The clergy, headed by the bishop, were saying good night while the pilgrims to King Edward II's tomb were leaving, along with the sparse congregation and the choirboys. The bishop blessed each choirboy and he passed. Dick stood in amazement watching the pretty young and not so young pretty boys parading past. He approached one of the priests on the periphery and enquired where he might find lodging for the night. Bishop Petrus overheard the conversation and hailed his chaplain. "Take care of this young man and bring him to the palace and I shall attend to his needs when I am finished here. And I think we can find something for his feline too."

The chaplain led Dick and Tom through the close to the Bishop's palace. Rather than a 'palace' it was no more than a large house, similar to Dick's own home in Pauntley. The Chaplain opened the door of a large outbuilding. It had a window and half a dozen palliasses were scattered over the floor. "You can leave your belongings here, lad. The gates close after evening prayer and there'll be no more travellers tonight. When the sun's down, come to the back door and there will be some sustenance for you." Dick was weary. He took off his backpack, used it as a pillow and lay down on one of the palliasses.

The next thing he knew was the padding of a paw on his cheek and a mewing. He woke to see through the window that the sun was dipping below the horizon. He stroked Tom as a thank you and roused himself from his bed of straw. He made his way to the back door and knocked. "Come in, young man." It was the bishop himself who answered. Dick entered the kitchen where a simple, but adequate meal had been set. "Where is that cat of yours? Bring him in. I have a different meal planned for him." Dick returned with Tom. At the bishop's bidding, Dick took his place at the table, which he noticed was set for two. Bishop Petrus blessed the simple things on the table and told Dick to tuck in. "Now you can tell me who you are, where you're from and where you are headed." Dick talked about his journey, omitting the incidents with King Rat and Fairy Rosebud, for he feared he might lose credibility. He described his unfortunate parting from his best friend Luke and the bishop was able to offer comfort. He related his ambitions and how he intended to make his fortune in the city of London. The bishop praised his ambition and wished him God speed. At the end of the meal he returned thanks. "Now we must look after the needs of your little friend. Follow me. Have no fear."

The bishop took a lighted candle and a bunch of keys. He led Dick and Tom down some stone steps to the cellar. They could hear some scratching and some scrabbling. Tom was off immediately. He could see clearly in the gloom and he must have thought he was in Cat Heaven. By the time bishop and boy caught up with him there were already five mice and one rat lying dead on the stone floor. Dick stood there open mouthed as Tom continued his attack on the abundant rodents. At last he was satisfied and the two humans could see the toll from the rodent population. As a final act Tom, with difficulty, picked up the three largest rats, laid one at the feet of the bishop, one at Dick's feet and kept one for his supper. Labour and refreshment over for the night, the bishop showed them to the back door, saying that with the short nights they needed as much rest as possible and at sunrise they should present themselves again at the back door for breakfast, then be ready to leave. They settled down for sleep that night. In the outbuilding there was neither sight nor sound of a rodent.

Dawn was greeted with a rising cock. Dick just needed to get rid of his morning wood and when he had satisfied his needs, he could hear a rooster crowing in the distance. Ready to travel, he and Tom presented themselves as instructed at the back door and were duly fed and watered. After breakfast they thanked the bishop and stood up to leave. "Before you go, Dick and Tom, a blessing." Tom climbed up onto Dick's shoulder. Dick stood in front of the bishop who made the sign of the cross with his right hand, uttering the blessing in Latin, while his left was firmly placed between Dick's legs, equally fervently blessing his package.


Dick had gained spiritual strength from the bishop's blessing which was to fortify him over the coming days. He aimed to cover two to three leagues each day, rather ambitious unless he managed to hitch a ride on a farm cart. Although Fairy Rosebud was invisible, Dick felt he had his intangible protection. Every evening he was fortunate to find some kind of shelter or lodging, often paid for by Tom's services as a rodent operative. And so at midday some days later they found themselves in the village of Burford in the shire of Oxford on market day. They wandered among the booths and tables, looking at the various wares on sale, ranging from clothes to food to pots and pans and other household goods. But Dick had no use for such things and he had to make sure his money lasted for as long as possible, especially until he could find work and start to make his fortune. He was casually carrying the stick with the knotted turquoise kerchief over his left shoulder. Absorbed in the wonders of the market and fair, he was suddenly ripped out of his private world by a voice hailing him from one of the booths. "Holla, young sir. Over here."

"Thank you, sir, but I have no use for ribbons and buttons. I am on my way to London and have yet to gain employment."

"Would you like to earn a silver penny, my lad?" To Dick a silver penny was a fortune, one he felt he could not easily give up.

"What do I have to do?"

"Let me suck your cock." Dick immediately thought back to the lost opportunity with his friend Luke.

"What makes you think I am that kind of boy?"

"You carry a turquoise kerchief over your left shoulder and you ask me what makes me think you're that kind of boy?"

"I'd forgotten that."

"And have you heard of gaydar?"

"No. What's that?"

"The magic ability to perceive that a gentle is gay, and I see that in you, sir."

"And how do you see that in me, I beg?"

"Your body language, the way you walk, from your face and chiefly from the manner in which you wear your hose."

That made Dick thoughtful. On his travels with a lot of time to think he had discovered something about himself. In the few days since his intimate blessing from the bishop his balls had grown and were noticeably looser and heavier. Also his cock had lengthened slightly, but more important it had thickened considerably. As he had grown more conscious of his genitals, so had his desire to touch them, play with them, exercise them. He must find a still pond wherein to see his reflection.

After a temporary lapse his mind returned to the present hour. "A silver penny you say, sir?"

"That's right."

"And nothing else?"

"And nothing else."

"That seems a good bargain to me. What do you think, Tom?" The cat purred and rubbed himself against his master's legs. "Okay, but show me the silver penny first. I like everything up front." Dick might have been a country boy, but his brain was sharp and when it came to money matters he was more Rich than Dick.

"Where are we doing it?"

"In here." The stallholder closed down his booth and tied the flaps closed across the counter. He placed the silver penny on it, came out of the back and led Dick inside. Tom sat on his haunches outside as if on guard. "What's your name, young man?"

"Dick. And yours?"

"Ned." Dick picked up the silver penny and checking it, saw the head of King Edward III stamped on it. He carefully placed it inside his tunic. "Dick, lower your hose."

"No, Ned, you take it down." Ned did as he was bidden. He was in no way disappointed at what he found. Dick was chubbing up nicely in anticipation.

Half an hour later Dick emerged from the booth a silver penny richer and a few drams of semen lighter. He bade farewell to Ned who was busy opening up his booth for custom again and who wished him good fortune and safe journey.

Dick and Tom followed the highway towards Oxford. Dick was lost in thought. That had been his first blowjob and it had left him feeling on top of the world. "You know, Tom, I must do that again, and perhaps find someone to do it to. If only… no, if only I still had Luke. I'm sure I could have persuaded him and we'd still be friends." Tom sprang up onto his shoulder and rubbed his head against his master's cheek.

© N Fourbois 2015

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