Robin of Cocksley
by: Will B
© 2008 by the Author
Typos kindly corrected by E Walk.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

The True Story of Two of England’s Most Beloved Heroes.

As originally told by Alan the Gay Minstrel.

All day he walked deeper and deeper into the forest. Night fell, and he could no longer see his hand in front of his face. He plodded on, deeper and deeper into the woods. He heard wolves howling. He heard rustling in the underbrush.

‘Where could he go? What he could do?’ He knew he could NOT go home to Cocksley.

Onward he walked, hoping he would not trip over a branch or a root, or worse yet, trip over something that would slither and hiss!

Just when he thought he could go no further, he heard a voice say “Stop! Another step and you die!”

Chapter 2

Robin stopped, as two pairs of arms grasped his own arms tightly. He became aware of men with torches approaching.

As the light grew he looked ahead of him and saw that he had been standing on the very edge of a deep pit that was at least 100 feet deep. If he had taken one more step, he would surely have fallen to his death.

Looking from side to side, he recognized two men from his own village, Little John, and his seventeen-year-old son, Big John. Little John was so named because he was only five-feet tall, but his son was almost as tall as Robin, He had a smooth muscular body, with almost no hair on his body except for his small bush of pubic hair. His six-inch uncut cock was thick, with a vein running down the top of it. When he was semi-aroused, the glans would peek out of its hood like a rabbit coming out its burrow.

Robin realized that Big John was the first young man who had come to be initiated by the lord’s lever of lust, but that Robin had excused him because he (Robin) didn’t have the necessary ten marks.

“Thank God we stopped you just in time, milord,” said Big John.

“Yes, thank God, and I thank you both!” Robin said, clasping each of his rescuers by the hand.

Then Robin heard a well beloved voice saying, “You’re here, my sweet. I’ve been so worried about what might have happened.” Martin came up to him and pulled him to him, and gave him a hug so tight that Robin was gasping for breath, half-laughing and half-crying. They kissed, and the feel of heir lips on each other’s mouth, their tongues dancing and exploring each other’s oral cavities, made Robin feel that he was truly safe.

Big John said with a smile “I think you two should find a cabin, and I know just the place. Follow us!”

Walking was much easier with torches to light the way, and Robin and Martin followed the two Johns through some more woods, across a bridge that spanned a gurgling brook, and found themselves facing a small cottage, outside of which were three more men. who came forward and introduced themselves.

The first to come up was a muscular 30-year old man who could have played the anvil with his hammer at any county fair in the Kingdom. “Good evening, Lord Robin. I am Will Scarlett from Nottingham Town. You don’t know me, but your many acts of kindness have circulated through the town. Welcome to our cottage . . . , and this,” he said, turning to a man in his 30s who was slender and wiry and very good looking, “this is my . . .  partner, my . .  companion, and  . . . yes, my lover, Alan, the Gay Minstrel.”

Another man, in his late 20s, also tall and willowy, came forward and took Robin’s hand, “Oooooh, hello, my handsome Lord Robin. If I can be of any service, any service to you, just knock, or better yet, pull my bell-rope. I’ll come at once, if Will would let me get away.”

Everyone laughed. Robin was touched at the friendliness of the group. He held Martin just a little tighter around the waist as the third man came forward. He was a 45-year old man with black hair that was just beginning to show some gray. He was wearing what appeared to be a monk’s robe. He had a friendly smile, and nodded to Robin and said, “They call me Tuck, Friar Tuck. I’m not really in any religious order, and I have taken no vows of chastity, poverty, or obedience.”

Robin asked what he would like to be called. “Oh, Tuck, or Friar, either one. But, please don’t call me late for dinner!” That got another chuckle from the group.

Will Scarlett said, “Robin, I’m sure you must be cold, tired, and hungry. Come into our house and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

Robin and Martin stepped into a large room of the cottage. It was furnished with tables and chairs, a sink a counter and a fireplace. A pot hung from a hook in the fireplace. There was dirt and dust everywhere.

“Milord,” said Little John, “we don’t have much, but what we have we will gladly share.” He took a spoon and plate, and from the pot served up a dish of stew.

“My thanks, good John, but what is this?” Robin asked, wrinkling up his nose.

“It’s stew, milord. It’s the only thing we know how to make.”

Robin ate it quickly. He was starved, but secretly he was thinking he and Martin were better cooks than this.

After finishing his meal, Robin looked at the others and said, “What do you do in the daytime?”

“Sir, would you believe there’s a mine filled with precious jewels not far from here. We spend our days in the mine, trying to gather enough jewels to keep us in luxury should we ever be able to go home again.”

“Does anyone keep house for you,” Robin asked.

“No, milord. By the time we get home, we’re too tired to do much of anything except put something in the pot,” Big John replied.

“Hmmm,” said Robin. “You know we didn’t have much help at the manor, so Martin and I became passable cooks. Maybe tomorrow while you go off to the mines, Martin and I could get something together for the evening meal.”

Five pairs of eyes lit up. “Would you?  Could you? Wonderful, Great!” were the exclamations heard from the others.

Robin yawned. “Oh, yes, sir, I think it’s all time we went to our beds,” said Friar Tuck. “The bedroom is just up these stairs.”

Robin was so tired he could barely drag himself up the steps, but when he did so, he found a large airy room, with four large beds in it.

Little John explained that he and his son slept in one bed, Will Scarlett and Alan took the second bed. Tuck slept in the third bed.

Tuck explained that he had never met the right man with whom he wanted to sleep. He was lonely, but he assured the others that ‘some day his prince, would come.’

“I guess that leaves the fourth bed for you and me,” smiled Martin.

”Just what I was thinking, love, and tonight I’m so tired I don’t even care if you snore a little!” Robin said.

Martin made a motion as if to ‘smack him up alongside his head,’ but he thought better of it, and instead kissed his dear Robin full on the lips.

The seven men soon fell asleep.

Back at the manor, let us see what happened after Robin was thrown out of his home. The Sheriff paced up and down the dining hall, and a terrible plot was forming in his mind. He would pick some of the sweetest, most innocent young boys, and with his henchmen guarding the stair to the solar, he would take them upstairs, and ‘teach them some new tricks.’

Father Thomas must have sensed what was in the Sheriff’s mind because he stood up and said, “All right children, it’s time for your catechism lessons, and then I will hear your confessions. Let’s go quickly, now, to the church. Yes, all you young people come along. Your parents can wait outside and take you home after you have made your confessions.”

The parents breathed a collective sigh of relief and blessed Father Thomas for his quick thinking. The Sheriff was seething, but, as wicked as he was, he dared not lay a hand on the priest.

The whole group left the hall, and marched to the church. Father Thomas got the children safely inside, and the parents surrounded the church to prevent the Sheriff and his men from getting inside.  The Sheriff and his group of henchmen kept a sharp eye the parents to make sure that no one went home to get food for the priest and the children.

The situation continued until five o’clock that evening when a solitary horseman rode out from Nottingham bearing a message for the Sheriff. He and his men were to report immediately to Prince Johnny in London.

Shaking his fist at the door, he shouted to the parents and those in the church, “All right, you peasants and churls. You may think you’ve won this round, but you haven’t heard the last of this. I’ll be back!”

When the Sheriff and his men were safely out of sight, Father Thomas opened the door of the church, and the young people streamed out to be reunited with their parents.

“Take your children home, my dear people, but bring them back at sunset. We will have a Mass of Thanksgiving to celebrate our deliverance,” Father Thomas said.

The men and women bowed and curtsied to the priest, thanking him for protecting their children, and many of the children ran to him and hugged him. When the families had gone back to their homes, Father Thomas went into the church, knelt before the Crucifix, and prayed, thanking God for having brought them through this ‘valley of the shadow.’

* * * * *

It was morning in the cottage of the seven ‘outlaws.’ Happy they were as they prepared for the day. Robin and Martin found some oats with which to make oatcakes, and the others assembled for breakfast. Perhaps it would be more truthful to say they ‘ass-embled’ for breakfast, for they were all practically buck-naked.

“You see, Milord,” explained Tuck, “it’s very hot in the mine, and our clothes quickly become wringing wet. It’s easier to wear little or nothing, and on the way home, we can take a quick dip in the stream to cool off. We’ll try to bring some rabbits or some pheasants home for dinner.”

Off they went, carrying picks and shovels, and some bows and arrows. Oh, they were a magnificent sight, butts swinging from side to side.

“That Big John is pretty sexy, don’t you think, Robin?” Martin asked teasingly.

“He could light my fire anytime—if I didn’t have you my dear, manly, sexy, lovable, Martin,” Robin replied, giving his lover a tight hug, and an even tighter squeeze to Martin’s meaty sausage.

The two spent the morning, cleaning the great room, washing dishes, sweeping the floors, and trying to make the room as attractive as possible. Behind the cottage, they found an apple tree. They picked some apples, pealed them, and out them in the pot to make applesauce.

After a midday meal of apples, Robin and Martin went up to the bedroom, to enjoy each other’s bodies in privacy. Their tongues explored, their fingers caressed, and their engines of pleasure expanded—into each other’s mouths with explosions of exquisite ecstasy.

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, they lay, head to toe, licking the nectar off of their cum-coated cocks.

<Kiss> <Lap> <Kiss> <Lap> <Lap>

This went on for two weeks. One afternoon, as Robin lay licking the inside of Martin;s thighs, he suddenly stopped.

“Listen, Martin, I hear someone outside.”

They went to the window and looked out to see a man sitting, or rather swaying, in the saddle of a horse.

“I think that man needs help. I’m going to go down and let him in,” Robin said.

“Be careful, Robin. I‘ve heard about mysterious strangers who show up at the cottage of innocent young people, get invited in, and then try to ‘work their wicked way’ with them,’” Martin warned.

“Oh, you and your fairy stories, Martin. I don’t think it’s good for you to be filling your mind with that stuff!” Robin said with a smile. “Besides this man looks like he has a sword. He must be of noble birth because serfs aren’t allowed to carry weapons.”

Robin, forgetting he was naked, ran down the steps, and went outside to help the stranger down from his horse. The stranger was a tall man, about 40 or 45 years old, with the same reddish gold hair that Robin had. He had a hard muscular body, but he was dirty and dusty from many days of long riding. His clothes were in tatters around him. He did carry a sword, and he had two saddlebags which Robin figured probably held his personal possessions.

“Ehhhh, my lad, thank you for helping this poor traveler. If I could just sit down for a few minutes. . . . I think I must be saddle sore.”

Robin helped him dismount and took him into the cottage. Martin took the horse to a field in back of the cottage and let the beast graze in the green, green grass.

”Martin, would you bring some of that stew from last night, and maybe a mug of ale?”

By now Martin had come to recognize that his fears had been groundless.  He brought a mug of ale and heated up some stew.

“This is good stew. Venison, isn’t it?”

“Uhhhh, yes, sir it is,” Robin said hesitantly.

“Don’t all the deer belong to the King?” the stranger wanted to know, keeping a serious expression on his face.

“Yes they do, sir, but the King is not here, an dif he knew how his people have been scrimping and saving to raise the money for his ransom . . .” Martin started to explain.

“RANSOM! WHAT RANSOM?’ demanded the stranger.

Robin told him the whole story of how the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince Johnny were bleeding the people dry, and how they were abusing young men. “If only the King would return, I know he would see to it that this cruelty would stop!” Robin exclaimed heatedly.

“What do you know about the King? Have your ever met him?”

“No, Sir, not to say ‘met him,’ but my father and my uncle once took me to London to see him as he made a procession through the town. He waved to the people, and smiled at them. I just know he is a good man.”

“Perhaps the King will come back tomorrow . . . or maybe next month . . .or maybe next year,” Martin said sadly.

“Friends, I am sorry to dash your dreams but I think I can safely say that the King will not return tomorrow, or next week, or next month. I don’t think he will ever come back to England again.”

Robin and Martin were heart-broken. Their hopes were crushed, but . . . then they thought to themselves, ‘What does this stranger know? Maybe he’s wrong.’

Robin remembered his manners. Sir, I would like to introduce my friend, Martin, and I am Robin.”

“I’m glad to meet you gentlemen, and I’m . . . . Dickon.. Just Dickon, a lonely nomad who has met with great kindness. I am proud to know you.”

Just then the miners were heard coming home chatting happily. They stopped at the brook, and stripped off the few rags they were wearing, and got into the cold water. Robin, Martin, and Dickon went outside to meet them, and whole the five were splashing, Robin made the introductions.

“You three look a little warm. Why don’t you join us?” asked Tuck. Truth to tell he had been looking at the stranger, and was wondering what kind of package he was packing under his shirt.

The three on land looked at each other, and said, “Why not?” They quickly stripped and got into the water. It felt delicious.

Tuck asked, “Will you be staying for supper, and perhaps spending the night?’

“Oh, I don’t want to be . . .”

“Oh, nonsense, man. Don’t be a fool.” Tuck slapped him on the back, and squeezed his arm (playfully). “We’ve plenty to eat. We caught some rabbits in a snare, and shot some pheasants, and I found the markings of a great stag. Maybe tomorrow we can. . .”

“Well, I would appreciate a good supper, and a place to may my head tonight—somewhere other than the cold ground,” said Dickon. He was beginning to be touched by Tuck’s kindness.

‘The thing is,” Tuck went on, “We have four beds, and three of them are occupied by the other six, but I can make room for you in mind. I don’t snore, and I don’t think I toss and turn.”

After supper, the eight men sat around. Dickon asked them what their plans for the future were. Will Scarlett answered first.  I like to work with horses, and Alan has a pretty good voice. We hope some noble lord will take us into his household so we can be together. Alan and I are . . . well, Dickon, we’re a couple, and we don’t want to be separated.”

Dickon nodded, and said, ”What about you, Little John?”

“I just want to get home to my wife, Eleanor. If the King were here, I would see if there were some government job I might have, so that I could help people.”

Big John spoke up, “ I want to get enough money to give my beloved Marian’s father so that he will see that I am not a pauper, and he will allow us to wed. Maid Marian is the sweetest, most wonderful, most . . . “ Big John broke off, blushing.

“How much dowry do you think you’ll need?” Dickon wanted to know.

“Her father told me he would like to see come to him with 15 marks in my hand, but with the opals, rubies, and garnets we have taken out of the mine, I think I have enough. I would like to get some kind of position in the Garrison of Nottingham Castle, and work with the troops. I’m pretty good with the staff and longbow, and wrestling, and I would like to learn to use a sword—only common folk like me aren’t supposed to have swords.”

“And what about you, Robin?”

“If I could have my Manor of Cocksley back I would be content just to like there with Martin and look after my people. I don’t have much ambition.”

“No, Robin, to want to look after the people who depend on you is a noble ambition indeed. I hope you succeed in getting your Manor back.”

“What about you, Tuck?” Dickon said, turning to the last member of the group.”

“Oh, I don’t know, until now I’ve been pretty much a rolling stone. I haven’t felt like settling down. I’ve never met the right ma—I mean the right person.”

“Tuck, if your heart and mind pull you in a certain direction, as long as you are decent, honest, and kind, I, for one, see nothing wrong in you following your heart.”

By this time, everyone was pretty tired, so they went upstairs to bed.  The two Johns soon fell asleep. Will and Alan engaged in a little exploration of hands, and Martin and Robin fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Tuck looked at Dickon and said, “Which side of the bed would you like, Dickon?”

Dickon replied, “Either side will be fine. I can sleep on either side.  Good night, Tuck, and thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

Tuck and Dickon also lay down and soon were lost in dreamland. Sometime in the middle of the night, Tuck half woke up and realized that Dickon was spooning him, and had his arm over Tuck’s shoulder. ‘Umm,’ Tuck thought to him, ‘That really feels nice.’

He woke up a little more and felt something large and stiff pressing against his butt. “Ummm,’ he thought, ‘That’s even nicer; in fact that’s almost perfect!’

Still half asleep he reached behind him, and guided that large and stiff something toward the crease between his butt cheeks.

‘Uummmm, Better and better,’ he thought to himself. ‘I thought only the King had something so large.”

Tuck, suddenly came completely awake, sat up and said aloud, “Oh my dear Lord! The King! And I called him a fool. Oh, what will. . . .”

A hand came around from behind him and put it over his mouth. “Shhhh! Sweet Tuck, shhhh. We’ll talk in the morning, but for now, if you could just raise your leg a little . . . ?”

To be continued.
Feedback always welcome:     

Posted: 09/12/08