world war 2


The story is fiction and is intended for the reader’s enjoyment. It is an attempt by the author to write a story which melds history and erotica. As far as possible, the contents are historically accurate with the exception of RAF Langton, RAF Fulnetby and 362 Squadron; none of which existed, although Langton and Fulnetby are real places. As it is an attempt to be historically accurate there are words with which many English speaking people, including some younger Britons, may not be familiar and a few references which may offend the politically correct. An examination of the context should provide answers to the former and, as for the latter, if you are easily offended then don’t bother to read it.

Chapter 1

“No flying tonight boys, the Met. Office says it’s one hundred per cent cloud cover from here to Vladivostok. It looks like Happy Valley and the Big City are definitely off the menu.”

Flight Lieutenant John Robert Lindsey opened an eye and peered; firstly at the bearer of the message and, secondly, at the window of his quarters. It looked, as usual, that Flying Officer William Patterson, the bearer of the good news, was right; outside the sky was almost black and the window pane streaked with rain; inside it was cold and damp; nowhere near the standards he had enjoyed in Canada. He looked at Patterson and asked,

“What about tomorrow, Billy?”

“Ah, sorry about that Jack, it looks like it’s going to be fine.”

As Patterson left, Jack reached over and picked up a letter from his bedside dresser. He had received it the prior week and had been surprised to find it was from a Pilot Officer Andrew McLeod asking if they could meet. He had recognised the name; it was Sophie McLeod’s son who, from the address in the letter, was with 419 Squadron, RCAF at Middleton St. George. The letter didn’t mention why he wanted to see him; just that he had leave due and could be in Langton on Thursday or Friday. He had replied he would be pleased to see him; but had reminded him he was on active service and there was no guarantee he would be available. Two days later he had received a telegram from McLeod saying he had managed to beg a ride on a plane which was flying into RAF Coningsby and would be in Langton sometime on Thursday afternoon. Today was Thursday and, as he re-read the letter, he wondered why Sophie’s son would want to talk to him so urgently; particularly as they’d never met.

Jack Lindsey — only his mother called him John – was a twenty-one year old pilot with 362 Squadron, Bomber Command, stationed at RAF Langton in Lincolnshire. He had been seventeen and at school when the war started but, even then, had a singular ambition; to follow his father and become a pilot in the RAF. In spite of the odds — only one in seven of Bomber Command air-crew were pilots — he was now the pilot of a Mark lll Lancaster; responsible for both it and the lives of six other young men, whose immediate goal in life was to drop four tons of high explosive onto Germany and return — thirty times. They had visited the Third Reich twenty-nine times and each time returned successfully; their next sortie would be their last. He was looking forward to it; he found it hard to believe he had survived so long when so many of his friends had perished in the night skies over Europe. His last two years had been years of firsts; his first time away from home; his first time abroad; his first experiences of sex and his first experience of real danger and, while he had enjoyed the first three, he’d had enough of the last one. He was tired and had no reserves left.

His story was typical of a Bomber Command pilot. He had inherited his desire to fly from his father who’d fought in the Great War, firstly in the army, then the Royal Flying Corps and finally, from April 1918, as a member of the fledgling RAF. His father was a natural pilot who loved flying and, when the war ended, had left the RAF reluctantly; returning to Lancashire and the family engineering firm. Throughout the post-war years he had maintained his love of flying and in 1937, at the first signs of the coming war, convinced he would be needed when the war started, he had bought a second-hand de Havilland Gypsy Moth and had started flying again. He was pleased when his son asked to fly with him and, when pressed by Jack to teach him to fly, had gladly given him flying lessons. Three days after his sixteenth birthday Jack had qualified as a glider pilot and by the late summer of 1939 was looking forward to gaining his pilot’s licence. Then the war came and changed everything.

On September 3rd, 1939 Jack and his family had listened to the wireless as Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister, told the British people a state of war existed between Great Britain and Nazi Germany. His mother and father had exchanged knowing looks and then his mother had started to cry. To Jack war offered adventure; to his parents, who were old enough to remember the Great War in which his father had fought and his mother’s oldest brother had been killed, it offered only heartache.

As the war progressed he gradually came to appreciate war wasn’t just an adventure. The wartime restrictions such as the blackout, rationing and petty irritants, such as always having to carry your gas mask, were onerous. In spite of the restrictions, the phoney war of late 1939 and early 1940 provided little insight to those who hadn’t fought in the Great War into the horrors of war and the hardships which were to follow. In May 1940 the situation changed dramatically. The Germans attacked and occupied the Low Countries and France, driving the British army out of France and back to Britain and, simultaneously, the Luftwaffe started nightly air raids on the principle cities of Britain. Manchester and Liverpool were extensively bombed and, although little damage was inflicted on his home town, each time Jack visited Manchester it was obvious the bomb damage was getting worse.

Jack knew he would have to join the forces and, if he waited to be conscripted, he wouldn’t be able to choose in which of the forces he served. He wanted to be a pilot and the only way to ensure he had a chance was to volunteer. At eight a.m. on the third of June, 1940, his eighteenth birthday, he appeared at the local RAF recruiting office where he was accepted and sent home to await his call-up papers.

Over the next seven months he completed his final year at school, played cricket and football, had his first two love affairs and waited for the postman.

The first of his love affairs had been with Angela Parr, the eighteen year old daughter of one of his primary school teachers. Living at home in a small Lancashire town provided few opportunities for sex. The girls he knew were mainly middle-class who, if they weren’t frightened of sex, were definitely frightened of getting pregnant. It was Angela who broke the mould.

Angela looked like her mum and, according to his friends, was fat and had the reputation of being the local bike, although none had actually claimed to have ridden her and a more accurate and charitable description of her body would have been Rubenesque.

One evening, following a visit to the church youth club, they’d found themselves walking home together and, although the church hall was near to Jack’s house, they’d continued past his house in the direction of hers. They were talking and enjoying themselves. He had recounted to her the story of his trip to the local recruiting office, making great play of the age and absent-mindedness of the officer taking the applications; she had countered with a description of her first camping trip with the Girl Guides, exaggerating slightly the inability of the Guide Leader to organize the bell tent. As they walked, he felt her brush against him, rubbing her tits against his arm. When she did it a second and third time, he knew it wasn’t an accident. He helped her over the stile, which provided access to the town cricket pitch and a short-cut to her house and, in the act of jumping down, she caught her foot and slipped, falling forward and landing on him. In the struggle to get up, he accidentally grabbed her breast. He had expected her to object and pull away but, instead, she stopped struggling and smiled.

“Gosh, Jack, I didn’t know you cared.” Until that point he hadn’t but, as he continued to hold her breast, he realised he liked what he was doing. He tried to cup the breast he was holding and was surprised by the size; from what he could feel it appeared he would need at least two hands to accommodate it, if not more. She smiled again, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. The kiss came as a surprise but he liked it; what he liked even more was the feel of her tits against his chest. It was exciting, he’d never had a girl do that to him and his body responded. His tumescent cock hardened, becoming fully erect and pressing against the front of his trousers and her belly. She felt it and wriggled against it; just to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.

“Come on Jack, I know how to get into the cricket pavilion.” Jack did too, but his illegal entries had been with his school friends and had been for the purpose of smoking; he was fairly sure, once they got in, Angela was not going to offer him a cigarette. As she pried open the catch on the kitchen window, using a thin piece of metal which she had taken from its hiding place under the pavilion steps, she looked at him and said,

“We’d better be quick; my mum’s expecting me home in twenty minutes at the latest.”

It took less than fifteen for both of them to come with Angela leading the way. As soon as they had made it through the window she removed her blouse and bra and then pulled her knickers down and out from under her skirt. Jack watched her; enjoying what she was doing, amazed by her brazenness and trying to determine what she expected of him.

“Come on Jack; what are you waiting for? Get your trousers off.” He didn’t need telling twice. Within ten seconds he had removed his trousers and underwear and was standing facing her; his cock poking out from under his shirt. She looked at his cock.

“Come on Jack; don’t be shy; you don’t need to hide it. Look, you can see my tits.” She cupped a tit in each hand and jiggled them up and down.

“Like them, Jack?” She was smiling at him. She didn’t really need to ask; she could tell from the reaction of his cock he liked them.

His first impressions had been correct; her tits were gigantic. At least two handfuls, they drooped – magnificently Jack thought – down her chest. The only other tits Jack had seen were accidental sightings of those of his sister and, while his sister’s weren’t small, they paled in comparison to those before him. He marvelled at their size and also the size of her almost erect nipples, which pointed slightly upwards and outwards from her tits. His heart rate increased dramatically as he contemplated what he was going to do with them. For some reason, and he couldn’t understand why, he had the urge to bite them.

He moved over to where she was standing and started to play with them; kneading and squeezing them inexpertly. She reached down and pulled up the tail of his shirt. It had been obvious his cock was big but when it emerged from under his shirt she gasped; a look of amazement in her eyes;

“Wow, Jack; it’s big. Your cock’s the biggest I’ve ever seen.” He stopped playing with her tits and watched as she stepped back and looked it over; taking in the enormity of it. She pulled his shirt over his head and then marvelled again as he stood naked; his cock pointing at the ceiling.

“Do you want me to wank you off?” He nodded.

She reached down and stroked it; running her palm from the tip to the base; once she reached the base she caressed his balls and then grasped his cock in her hand and started to wank him.

She had done it many times before and knew exactly what excited a man. It didn’t take long before he could feel the spunk starting to rise in his balls; she could tell he was excited and increased her tempo; stopping twice to lick her palm and rub it very gently along the underside of his cock. The second time she did it he came; the spunk spurting out of him in a warm stream; some landing on her arm and tits; the rest coating the kitchen floor. As she wanked him, she became excited; her cunt started to flood with her come and her nipples started to feel sensitive; the feeling she always had when she needed to get herself off. By the time he had come she was breathing heavily and couldn’t wait any longer. She lifted her skirt and started to play with her cunt. Jack stood and watched as, skirt hem in one hand and the other on her clit, she expertly masturbated herself to a climax. Watching her climax he was intrigued by the way she squeezed her stomach muscles and grimaced, almost as though she was in pain.

For the next six months they visited the cricket pavilion at every opportunity, during which the range of their sexual activities increased significantly. She encouraged him to titty-fuck and dry hump her; although she wasn’t happy when he came without telling her and covered her face with spunk. In return she taught him to play with her clit and finger-fuck her so that, by the end of the six months, he had become expert in what excited her.

In the end it was her refusal to fuck him which ended their relationship. He liked her; he knew she was plump and the butt of jokes among his friends; but she was also bright and funny and he loved what they did to each other. He loved it when she knelt over him and dangled her tits so they brushed his face; allowing him to suck and gently nip her nipples. He loved how she stroked his balls and then coated her palm with saliva and ran her hands up from his balls and along his cock; stopping to brush very gently the underside of the policeman’s helmet but, most of all, he loved it when she lay underneath him and licked the underside of his balls while he wanked.

She loved it when he brushed her clit so lightly it felt almost as if he were tickling her, she loved it when he fucked her hard with his middle three fingers and, most of all, she loved it when he fucked her tits. What he didn’t like was her refusal to fuck him but what he didn’t know was, with a little persuasion, she would have.

She knew she had the reputation of being easy but didn’t mind; she liked sex and, while getting herself off was satisfying, she loved it when a man did it for her and when she did it for him. She’d had numerous opportunities to fuck her boyfriends but knew they were only interested in her body and, while she didn’t mind them trying, she wanted something more than a quick fuck in exchange for her virginity. Somehow Jack was different; he talked to her and wasn’t afraid to be seen with her; furthermore; he was good at getting her off and, it had to be admitted, the thought of what it would be like impaled on his cock excited her. She wanted to try it; but needed persuading.

Had Jack known of her ambivalence, he may have tried harder to convince her. As it was his approaches were half-hearted and, possibly because she was adept at satisfying him without fucking him, he didn’t try hard to persuade her. From time to time when he was playing with her cunt he tried to mount her, but she always rebuffed him. He almost managed it once. He had been lying between her legs and playing with her clit and, when she started to come, he had pushed forward and managed to slip the head in; she had responded by crossing her legs and forcing him out, but then, with a smile on her face, told him,

“If you think you’re going to stick that monster in my twat Jack Lindsey, you’ve got another think coming.” What she didn’t add was ‘but if you want to try a bit harder I might let you’.

When it ended it wasn’t traumatic for either of them. The week after they split up he started seeing Jane and she met a pencil-thin 2nd Lieutenant in the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry who had a thing for plump women and, for whom, Angela was the incarnation of all his desires. Five months later she was happy, pregnant and married – in that order – and he was fucking Jane.

Chapter 2

Five foot seven and eight stone three pounds with reddish hair, blue eyes and a fair complexion highlighted by a sprinkling of freckles, Jane Grey was anything but plain. Slim, with almost boy-like hips; her tits were small, somewhere between an A and a B — she insisted they were a small B – but were tipped with disproportionately long, pink nipples, which outdid the pencil-rubber nipples of her girlfriends by a factor of five. The daughter of the local Church of England vicar; she had been at grammar school with his sister and became his girlfriend just after he and Angela split up. As a friend of his elder sister and just over a year older than him, she had often seemed far more worldly and mature and, on occasion, this disparity between them had prompted him to wonder why she had gone out with him. If asked she would have answered it was because she didn’t have a boyfriend at the time and, after all, Jack was quite good looking. If she had been pressed to tell the truth she would have added that she had also been intrigued by his sister’s ribald and detailed description of the size of Jack’s cock!

Their first date had started platonically; they had gone into Manchester by bus to see a display of captured German military equipment, followed by afternoon tea in a downtown restaurant. They arrived back just after dark and, when the bus dropped them off, Jack insisted he would see her home. As it was their first date, he was undecided what he should do when he left her at her door. What he wanted was to kiss her, followed by a leisurely grope of her tits; the minimum he would have expected with Angela; but Jane wasn’t Angela and groping her tits was probably presumptuous at this point in their relationship. He could just say ‘good night’, but that was too unromantic and not what she would expect; he finally opted for a peck on the cheek.

Jane felt cheated; she had enjoyed his company, but the display of German equipment; the tail plane from a shot-down bomber, two or three lorries, several field guns and what seemed like thousands of assorted rifles, machine guns and uniforms had been boring. She wanted to finish the day with some excitement and so, ignoring his peck, she pulled him to her and kissed him properly; on the mouth and with her arms around him. As she held him, she pressed her tits into his chest and, as they continued to kiss, she could feel her nipples starting to respond; becoming erect and hard. Jack couldn’t feel them though his sports-jacket but could feel her tits; which, unlike Angela’s, were small and firm and didn’t squash as comfortably against his body. It was enough, however, and his cock responded, becoming erect and filling the front of his trousers. She rubbed against him and deliberately brushed her belly against his cock. Not believing what she’d felt, she pressed against him again, the second touch confirming her first impression; even through his trousers his cock was impressive.

Jane was, technically, a virgin but had indulged in what her girlfriends coyly referred to as ‘playing with each other’ with a number of her former boyfriends and had a good idea what constituted a normal penis size; she was sure from his sister’s description and her first contact that Jack’s was anything but normal. On their second date, she confirmed her suspicions in the relative privacy of the back row of the pictures when she ran her hand along his thigh and grabbed his cock. It was, as she later described it to a friend, ‘enormous’ and she knew she had to have it, if not in her cunt at least to play with. Jack liked what she was doing, but the back row in the pictures was not as private as the cricket pavilion and he’d had to be content with a covert stroking of her tits; a come down from his experiences with Angela.

That night, as they lay in bed, they both masturbated, Jane fantasising about playing with his cock and about making love to him and Jack’s fantasies running through the whole range of his sexual experience and more. As he wanked, he envisioned playing with her tits and nipples, titty-fucking her, although in his fantasy her tits were the size of Angela’s, playing with her cunt and clit and, as the finale, fucking her;.

The next day, the nineteenth of March, 1941 and just over nine months after his eighteenth birthday, it appeared their sexual adventures were to be dealt a major blow with the arrival of a buff envelope, mailed at the behest of His Majesty, containing a letter ordering him to report to the local Air Crew Selection Board.

For two days he was subjected to a battery of intelligence and medical tests, at the end of which he was pronounced A1, both mentally and physically, and recommended for a commission and air crew training. Once again he was sent home to wait for his war to start. It frustrated him, but there was a silver lining – he was being given the chance to resume his sex life.

In the four weeks prior to him receiving his call-up papers, their relationship had gradually changed; Jack had come to realise he hadn’t loved Angela but couldn’t say the same about Jane. She was pretty, clever and was surprisingly unconventional when compared to the rest of his sister’s friends. He was surprised how, like Angela, she often initiated their sex play and, in particular, how she really seemed to enjoy having her tits fondled and her cunt stroked in semi-public places; in the pictures and, in particular, in the bus shelter across from her house. He had tried to understand and could only surmise it was the element of danger.

Jane had also come to realise there was more to Jack than his cock. She enjoyed his company; he was intelligent, fun to be with and, for a man, reasonably attentive when they were out on a date. Whether she loved him, she wasn’t totally sure although she thought she might and certainly knew the feelings she had for him were different to those she’d had for any of her previous boyfriends and, then again, there was always his cock.

Jack had a singular goal for their relationship; he wanted to ‘get into her knickers’; but, as both of them lived at home with their parents and, as at least one of their parents was usually at home, their opportunities were limited. The only other venue he could think of was the cricket pavilion and he couldn’t imagine making love to her on the kitchen floor or on one of the hard wooden benches in one of the dressing rooms.

For the next six weeks they met almost every evening, but had to be content with furtive gropings in the back row of the pictures and in the back of the bus shelter. Then, out of the blue, his mother announced she had arranged to visit his father, who had volunteered and had been posted to the Air Ministry in London. The knowledge they would have the house to themselves for three days excited them; although neither was sure of what they expected to happen.

His mother left on the Thursday evening and on the Friday morning Jane arrived almost immediately after he’d got up. He answered the door to her knock, hoping it was her but, as it was Friday, expecting it to be the milkman looking for his money. When he saw it was her he smiled and, without uttering a word of greeting, put his arms around her and kissed her. He didn’t care who was watching; they were old and probably past it anyway and, more pertinently, he was excited and needed to feel her body.

If either of them was concerned about what his neighbours were thinking about them kissing on the front porch in broad daylight, they needn’t have worried. What was happening on the Lindsey’s doorstep was of little importance to his neighbours in comparison with the progress of the war. The British Commonwealth was fighting a world-wide war without any meaningful allies and, if Jack Lindsey was kissing the vicar’s daughter on his doorstep at 8.30 a.m. on a Friday morning, then good luck to him; you never knew what was going to happen tomorrow.

When they’d finished kissing, he took her by her hand, led her into the house, took off her coat and scarf and showed her into the living room. He kissed her again, pressing his chest against her tits and rubbing his cock against her mound. He felt her nipples start to swell, he felt his cock respond; growing and pushing against her belly. He pulled her down on to the settee and, for a moment, they sat and looked at each other; excited at being alone and knowing they had been presented with an opportunity to do anything they wanted. Although both had the same goal, neither was completely sure how they expected things to progress but, they both knew or hoped, sooner or later, they were going to fuck each other.

In the ten months since he had left school Jack had changed in that sex, which had previously been a mystery to him, had been de-mystified. His experiences with Angela had introduced him to the pleasures of sex with a second party; it was no longer something only adults did. She had taught him a lot about a woman’s body, in particular what a woman liked and disliked and, if he hadn’t achieved his goal, it had certainly been good training.

Jane had also changed and by even more than Jack. She had left her job in the library and gone to work in a local aircraft-parts factory and, although she was working in the office, she had been exposed to the thoughts and attitudes of her fellow workers; most of whom were women; many of whom were married and, even those who weren’t, generally had an approach to sex which was freer and more knowledgeable than her middle-class girlfriends.

It was Jane who broke the deadlock, leaning over and kissing him, at first on the lips and then, using for the first time a technique which had been described to her in graphic detail by one of her fellow workers, thrusting her tongue in his mouth. He liked the feel of her tongue fencing with his and responded by putting his arms around her shoulders and then, as he started to become excited again, by fondling her tits through her clothes. He could feel her nipples, which were already swollen and readily noticeable, even through her utility style brassiere.

She responded by letting her hands wander down his body until they reached his cock. She stroked him through his trousers as she had done many times before; this time, however, she was determined to change the pattern. She stroked him for a few seconds more and then reached for his fly. She had undone flies on trousers before, but she was finding it difficult with Jack in the sitting position and it took her some time. He watched her fumble with the buttons; wishing her to succeed; his cock straining to be released. When she had undone the first four she took the waistband of his trousers in her hands and told him to ‘hutch up’. He complied, lifting up slightly and allowing her to pull his trousers down past his bum. She pulled his underwear part way down and was rewarded with her first sighting of his cock. As it rose into view her first thoughts were ‘Gosh; it really is enormous’ and then, as she looked at it more closely, ‘How the heck will I ever get that inside me?’

In spite of her misgiving about its size, she knew what she wanted to do with it. She resumed her stroking and then, as she became more confident, she gripped it and started to play with him. To Jack her touch was electrifying. Angela had often wanked him but this was different; Angela had been a friend; a friend he liked; a friend who shared her body with him but still a friend – Jane was a lover. As she stroked his cock it seemed to grow in her hand and, try as he might to prolong the experience, it was only a matter of seconds before his body shuddered and he came, ejaculating over her, himself and the settee.

Once he saw what he had done he was horrified; both that he had come on her and he had come so quickly. He had come on Angela occasionally, but, with the exception of the time when he had splattered her face, she had ignored it; particularly if she hadn’t come. He had wanted to impress Jane and, the first time she had wanked him, he had embarrassed himself.

He got up quickly, kicked his trousers off and rushed to the kitchen, his cock still poking out of his underwear and leaking spunk onto the floor. Jane watched him and laughed, softly but not cruelly; but he did look funny, his rapidly deflating cock bouncing up and down as he ran.

When he returned he had a tea towel in his hand, which he proceeded to use to clean up the mess. Still too embarrassed to look directly at her, he wiped the settee and, as surreptitiously as possible, his cock and then, his face still red, handed her the towel. Unlike Jack, she had seen and done it before and didn’t share his embarrassment. She took the towel and wiped his spunk off her hand, skirt and cardigan in an almost off-hand manner. She had been surprised and excited by both the quantity and force of his ejaculation — none of the other men she had wanked had come close to Jack in either department. As for the errant spunk, she was sufficiently experienced to know being accidentally sprayed was a common occurrence.

Noticing he was embarrassed, she decided she needed to re-assure him. She thought for a moment and then did something she had not intended to do – at least not then — she removed her cardigan and blouse and then reached behind her and undid her bra.

It was while she was stroking his cock on their last visit to the pictures she had made the decision to fuck Jack. She knew, for most couples, there was an inevitable and slow progression from the first feel to the first fuck, in most cases with marriage as an intermediate step, but she had been through all the steps up to the first fuck with her previous boyfriends and couldn’t see why she should have to wait any longer. She liked Jack and he definitely had all the right equipment; so, if the opportunity presented itself, then why not take it? His mother’s absence provided the ideal opportunity.

On her way over from her house she had prepared a speech for him. She knew it was melodramatic but it was also true; even if there were elements of hyperbole.

“Jack, look at me.” He looked up. “Jack I’ve wanted to tell you this for you for some time and now’s the time. I’m going to be honest with you; I didn’t know what I felt for you when we first started going out but, since then, I’ve come to realise what a special person you are. You make me happy when we’re together and I really missed you when you were away with the RAF. I realise now that I love you and I want to show my love for you.” She paused; she knew what she had intended to say next but saying it was not easy. Once said there was no going back and she had to be sure. She’d been sure last night as she thought about what she wanted to happen and had been just as sure as she rehearsed her speech as she walked to his house but telling Jack she wanted to fuck him was not as easy as thinking about it. As she sought for the resolve to tell Jack she wanted him Jack waited, willing her to tell him that she wanted him to fuck her. When she broke the silence, her voice was halting and almost at whisper level.

“Jack. I want to make love to you and, it isn’t because you’re going into the air force and may be killed, it’s because I love you. I really do.’ Now that she had told him she wanted to make love to him her confidence returned and she continued with her rehearsed speech.

“I know we’re not married or even engaged, and I’m sure our parents would be horrified if they knew, but now it’s not the same as in their day. We’re at war and the old rules don’t apply. You’re going to be pilot and I don’t know when, or if, I’ll see you again. Jack, I want to make love to you.” The only thing missing was the unsaid ‘and I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t.’

She had told him and had burned her bridges; but she was happy with it. Her speech had surprised Jack. He had expected they would ‘go further’ than they’d done so far but, at best, had envisaged a repetition of what he had done with Angela in the pavilion. Now she was offering herself to him and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He wanted her but wasn’t sure how to proceed if you didn’t have to persuade your lover to fuck you, if you knew you were going to do it before you started your love-making?

It was Jane who answered his unspoken question. Reaching out to him; she took his hand and used it to caress her tits before moving it down to her mound, where she ran it up and down. He had done it before and underneath his lover’s clothes, but he let her guide him. He could feel the bulge of her pubic hair, even through her skirt and knickers. Pulling up her skirt so it sat on her waist, she took his hand and replaced it on her mound. His eyes followed her as she moved his hand and, when she stopped, he was looking down at her knickers. Unlike her bra, her knickers were clearly not the utility type. They were white, silk-like, almost French-knicker style, edged with lace and so sheer they were almost transparent. He could see not only the outline of her pubic hair through them but also the colour — red; the same colour as the hair on her head and the same colour as the small tufts of hair poking out from the side of her knickers.

An experienced masturbator, she knew she had no chance of reaching her climax if all he was going to do was to stroke her mound. She let go of his hand and leant backwards so that her shoulders were resting against the wing of the settee; pulled her right leg up so that her foot was resting on the seat cushion; reached down; pulled her knickers aside and showed him her cunt. It was pink and wet. She put her middle finger in her cunt and moved it in and out slowly. He could hear and see she was wet and excited. He held his breath; Angela had done the same thing on many occasions – what was Jane going to do which was any different? To start with; nothing; she merely pulled him towards her, guided his fingers into her cleft and directed his finger to her clit, where she rubbed it up and down and then around, in a circular motion. Her clit, like her nipples, was larger than normal and an easy target for his fingers.

He wanted to tell her he knew what to do, but was reluctant to do so; particularly if what she was doing was part of a plan which would ultimately end with him fucking her.

Like Angela she knew what she liked and how to get it, expertly guiding his fingers over her clit, teasing and stroking and steadily increasing the pace as she started to reach her climax. As she neared her peak, she stopped the stroking and thrust two of his fingers deep into her cunt. She finger-fucked his hand; pressing her clit against his palm and driving her cunt against his fingers. When she came she screamed and grabbed him, her body shuddered, her thigh and stomach muscles quivered and her cunt flooded with her juices, coating his hand and dribbling onto the settee. Jack was surprised; when Angela had come it was quietly with her lips pressed together.

She came down slowly, savouring the sensation. She picked her head up, kissed him and stroked his chest and shoulders. He grasped her hand; wanting her to play with his cock; but she pulled his hand towards her and guided it to her tit. She had come, but she was still excited. Her nipples felt sensitive; sometimes she felt they were directly connected to her cunt and they felt that way now. Whenever she played with herself she played with her nipples and, on more than one occasion, she had reached a climax merely by playing with them. Now, they felt as if they were on fire and needed someone to play with them. He stroked them, almost reverently, until she ordered him to,

“Pull them, Jack … twist them….harder”. He complied and, as he did, she felt her cunt respond; prompting her to start playing with her clit. In less than a minute she came again; her stomach muscles contracting and, as her climax reached its peak, for a brief moment she lay bridged on the settee; the two supports her heels and shoulders and the roadway her rigid body. The intensity of her climax astonished him; he had never expected such a response from a woman.

“Phew, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” she said; once again surprising him; he knew women played with themselves but was surprised to hear her mention it. “Did you enjoy what I did to you?”

He had to admit he had and then added he was sorry he had made a mess on her.

“Jack, you didn’t make a mess, you came on me. Don’t worry, it happens. If anything you should feel proud rather than ashamed; I’ve never seen a man come so much or squirt it as far as you. If you’d squirted all that spunk in me, it would have filled me completely and you’d have probably have made me pregnant!”

For the next fifteen minutes they hugged, kissed and lay together in relative silence until their proximity started to work its magic on his cock. He had enjoyed what she had done to him but the experience wasn’t much different to his experiences with Angela. He wanted to fuck her and now was the time. His flaccid cock gradually started to fill once again and, as he became excited at the thought of fucking her, he started to play with her tits. He held both of them in his hands — they weren’t even a handful – and then stroked them, causing the nipples to harden and stand proud. Wanting him to do more and, unsure whether he knew what to do, she lifted her right tit and offered him the nipple. He looked at her and, seeing an obvious look of desire in her eyes, he leant down, took the nipple very gently in his mouth and sucked. She liked the feeling and let him suckle on her for a minute or so; but she needed him to do more.

“You don’t have to be gentle. I’m not porcelain and neither are my nipples. You can bite them; they won’t break.”

The thought of biting on her nipples excited him; he had occasionally nipped and bitten Angela’s nipples, but, whenever he had been overly aggressive, she had rubbed them and told him to stop. Jane was asking him to bite them – did she get pleasure from the pain? How could that be? If he bit them hard, would it turn her on or turn her off? Reasoning she wouldn’t have told him to bite her if she hadn’t meant it, he leant towards her and bit her nipples; gently at first and then harder. As she felt his teeth bite her nipples she gasped and, involuntarily, reached for her cunt. She liked men to bite her nipples — her last boyfriend had made her come more than once by biting on them.

He hadn’t expected it, but her response turned him on. His cock hardened even more and his thoughts returned to her promise to make love to him. His mother was back on Monday and there was no knowing when they would get the opportunity again: if they were going to do it, why not now? He got up, leant down and picked her up by her arms. They were both in a state of undress; she was topless; missing her bra and blouse while his trousers were on the living room carpet.

“Let’s go to my room.”

“All right; but let me get my blouse and bra.”

She collected her clothes and followed him up to his bedroom. His room was at the back of the house, overlooked by the fells which marked the Lancashire-Yorkshire border. It was still a teenage boy’s room; he had made no changes to the décor since he was at school. There were models of planes on the dressing-table and a few pictures of footballers cut from the newspapers on the wall. His bed was a three-quarter; somewhere between a single and a double.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his shirt, vest and socks, leaving only his underpants. Jane watched him closely and, when he got down to his underwear, she smiled. His erection was straining his underwear to its limits and, obviously, making him feel uncomfortable. He adjusted his underwear slightly and his cock freed itself; flipping backwards and hitting his belly. When it came to rest, it was poking at least three inches above the elastic.

June 2018
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