0 comments/ 6755 views/ 1 favorites No Flying Tonight Ch. 08 By: lindseymarsh This is just before the half way point in the story. If you want the complete version you may e-mail me and I will forward it as a Word document. That night, after Jack left, Sophie lay in bed and cried. She wanted Jack. She wanted to make love to him, but Iain's ghost was making in impossible for her to react to his lovemaking. Iain had blighted her life, turning her from a happy girl into a desperately unhappy wife. She had been brought up in a happy, moderately wealthy family with a place in local society. She had done well at school and, when she was accepted at the University of Toronto, she had thought that life couldn't have been better. She was away from home; amongst people of her own age and doing, more or less, what she wanted. She had enjoyed her first year but it was during that year she had made a decision which she had regretted ever since. It was at the 1914 Christmas Ball she had met her future husband. Iain was in his third year studying mechanical engineering and while he wasn't handsome, he was good looking, articulate, clever and obviously well-off. She had danced with him for most of the evening and, when the dance finished, he had asked her out and she had accepted. She had been on dates before, but they had been with schoolboys; Iain was her first man. At first she had been impressed. Iain was attentive and polished and introduced her to a lifestyle, including upscale restaurants and parties, she would never have been able to enjoy without his help. If she was surprised by anything it was the lack of sex in their relationship. When she had started university she was a virgin and sexually naïve but had quickly been introduced to the mysteries of sex by Jenny, her room-mate, who was sleeping with her boy-friend and who enjoyed describing her sex life in graphic detail. By the end of the school year it had become readily apparent to her that she was far more knowledgeable about sex than him and almost all she knew she had come from Jenny. She was curious about sex and had considered making the first approach but, constrained by her upbringing, had rejected the notion as being inappropriate and possibly demeaning to Iain. It was in her second year she had started to worry where their courtship was leading, in part due to comments from her room-mate and, in part, due to her misgivings about Iain. Jenny had a prurient interest in sex, which included Sophie's sex life, and couldn't believe they hadn't, at the minimum, engaged in something she referred to as 'getting each other off'. It appeared she and her boyfriend practiced it regularly in both its manual and oral form and, almost exclusively, when she was at her most fertile; or as she had called it; 'baby ready'. When she had listened to Jenny describing her sexual escapades, it had excited her. Jenny made sex sound wonderful although, she had to admit, she could have made a description of someone peeling an orange an erotic act. She also realised Jenny's relationship with Tom was unconventional, at odds with the attitude of her mother and her friends to whom sex was an unmentionable act to be completed in the dark, even slightly frightening to a proper, small town girl like her but still far more interesting than her relationship with Iain. She remembered the time when she'd had difficulty understanding the nuances of oral sex for a woman and, when she had asked Jenny to explain it, how she had removed her underclothes and given her a detailed description of her vagina, pointing out how and what the man did, followed by a description of how a woman could satisfy herself if she were on their own. When Sophie asked about satisfying a man orally, Jenny had suggested the next time her boyfriend was over and Sophie was there she would show her and, if she wanted, she could practice on him. She had said 'no thanks', but was excited by the thought and wondered what it would be like. By the end of the fall semester of her second year she had come to realise Iain was totally unadventurous and probably a virgin. They were still going out at least twice a month but it had become totally predictable. She understood she was still too young to drink and they couldn't go to a public bar. She also understood that the occasional parties, which made life with Iain bearable, didn't take place every week, but she needed something more exciting than their regular routine of dancing at one of the hotels and watching movies at the Bay Theatre. In spite of her mis-givings she continued to date him for the rest of the school year knowing that he was due to graduate and that his graduation would provide an opportunity and excuse, if she wanted, for her to end the relationship. Iain graduated in June 1916 and promptly announced he had volunteered with the 120th Battalion and would be leaving for France by the end of July. It had upset her, not because she was concerned that he was joining the army - she had known he would probably be conscripted when he graduated - but because she had been his girlfriend for two years and, yet, he hadn't seen fit to discuss the matter with her. . The week before he left for France, Iain had appeared at her parent's house complete with engagement ring and asked her to marry him. She had wanted to refuse him. She didn't love him. She had tolerated the repetitive and often boring dances and trips to the cinema but she could not ignore his total lack of interest in her sexually. She had wanted to find out something about sex – perhaps not sexual intercourse - but something along the lines Jenny had shown her. Iain had not shown the slightest interest in her other than the occasion when, at her prompting, he had fondled her breasts and she couldn't believe that he would change in the future. In spite of her misgivings she had accepted him. They had been courting for almost two years, her parents thought he was a good match but, most of all, she was aware he was going to war to fight for his country and might die. How could she be ungrateful and reject him? The night before he left for France they went to a dance at the King Edward Hotel in Toronto. It was the summer; she was living at home and, as she wanted to go shopping, she arranged to stay in Toronto for the weekend at the home of a university friend. As the dance was ending Iain told her he had booked a room in the hotel and wanted her to stay the night with him. She was astonished by his suggestion as not once in the last two years he had ever once suggested they make love and now, at the last minute, he wanted her to sleep with him. Sophie had been unsure what she wanted to do; she knew she didn't love him, but they were engaged and sometime or other they would have to make love. She rang her friend and told her she had been offered a ride and was going home and then went with him to the hotel where he registered them as Mr. and Mrs. I. Smith. The hotel, named appropriately after the noted philanderer Edward Vll, and the room were magnificent, but the sex was a disaster. It was clear to her from the start that Iain had no idea what to do and while she possessed no practical experience she had, at least, received the benefit of Jenny's expertise. They made love twice that night; both times he reached his climax within what seemed to her to be less than a minute and, all the time he was making love, he had paid very little attention to her. Jenny's descriptions of sex had made it seem wonderful; Iain met none of her expectations. From the way Jenny had described it, she had expected him to be gentle; to kiss her; to hold her; play with her and then make love to her. Apart from a perfunctory kiss before he mounted her he had made love to her as though she didn't exist. It was as if she was just something to ejaculate into. The most accurate description she could think of was 'he took me'. There was no love; just a satisfying of his lust. After he left she was worried, as he'd taken no precautions, she might become pregnant and worried she had made the wrong choice. Her period came on schedule, but for the next three years she couldn't escape the doubts she harboured about him. As she looked back, she was forced to admit the final two years of her undergraduate studies and the first year of law school, during which Iain had been serving in France, were the best three years of her life. She had continued to live at the University with Jenny until they both finished their undergraduate degrees and during which time they became inseparable, or were when Jenny's boyfriend wasn't around. She enjoyed both of their company but, most of all, she'd enjoyed Jenny's warmth and friendliness. She had also completed her sex education. It started the night she had returned, unexpectedly, from a weekend at home and found Jenny and Tom naked on her bed, in what Jenny had called the 'soixante-neuf' position. Jenny had described it to her and she understood how it worked, but this was her first practical demonstration. When she walked in Jenny, who was facing her and on top, took her mouth from Tom's cock, looked up at her and smiled; somewhere beneath her thighs Tom kept on licking Jenny's clit. "You're home early." Sophie had turned beet red. "We're nearly there. Can you wait a minute?" She thought she ought to answer 'no' but, since they obviously weren't worried about her being there and, as Jenny had said they were nearly there, she felt she couldn't refuse them and, besides, she was curious. Sex with Iain had taught her nothing and this was an opportunity to learn something and, she had to admit, she was starting to get excited. She had agreed and Jenny's smile had turned into a laugh and then a knowing leer. Jenny who had bent her head as if to start again suddenly stopped, looked at her and said, "I've got a better idea. You remember I offered you Tom as a teaching aid? Well, Iain isn't here and there's no time like the present." Tom, who had stopped what he was doing, sat up, put his arm around Jenny and, smiling at Sophie, said, "It's all right; I don't bite. If you want you don't have to get totally naked." Sophie wasn't worried about being naked as both she and Jenny had seen each other naked and she had even been given a conducted tour of Jenny's private parts. She wasn't worried about Tom. He had seen her in various states of undress and, although he had never seen her fully naked, he had seen her breasts on more than one occasion. Her only concern was something would get out, since a woman's reputation could be destroyed at even the hint of scandal. In reality she knew she was only setting up a straw man. She knew both Jenny and Tom could keep a secret since she was the only person who knew they had been lovers for almost two years. On that first night she had done things she had never contemplated. She had started by undressing to the appreciative stares of both of her would-be lovers and then had watched as Jenny and Tom finished what she had interrupted. Jenny had come three times before Tom came but, when he did, she watched in amazement as Jenny continued to suck him as he climaxed. When Jenny finally relinquished his cock, she opened her mouth and showed Sophie his come. "He must have been saving it up. Want to try some?" Her initial reaction had been to refuse but, as she was likely to do it sometime, if not with Tom then somebody else. Why not try it? She held her hand out, expecting Jenny to dribble some onto her palm, but was surprised when she leant over and kissed her, forcing her tongue and Tom's come into her mouth. She was shocked, but her shock was tempered when she looked at the smiling faces of her companions and by the realisation it didn't taste offensive. She watched again as Tom stood up, his wilting cock slick with a mixture of come and saliva, and was amazed how quickly it had shrunk in comparison to when Jenny was sucking him off. At the time it had seemed huge and she had been amazed and impressed by Jenny's ability to take most of it into her mouth. Once on his feet Tom came over to her, smiled and then kissed her before turning to his lover, kissing her, cupping her breasts in the palm of his hands and tweaking her still turgid nipples. Sophie thought what a wonderful couple they made; Tom lithe, slightly tanned and good-looking and Jenny slim, pale skinned with small breasts and narrow hips whose boy-like appearance was enhanced by her short hair. Fully clothed her slight build and lack of breasts made her look innocent and much younger than her twenty years. Her appearance was deceiving as Sophie was subsequently to discover. In bed she was a tiger with no inhibitions, an insatiable desire for novelty and an ability to reach apparent unending orgasms. Both Jenny and Tom fucked her that night. Concerned that Sophie had little sexual experience, Jenny took her first in an effort to ensure she was ready for Tom when he came to make love to her. Starting with Sophie's nipples she sucked and kissed them and then laved her way down to her cunt where she stopped and looked up at Sophie as if to get her permission to continue. Sophie smiled, which Jenny took as implied permission to 'carry on'. Under Jenny's tutelage she had learned to pleasure herself but the feelings generated by Jenny's ministrations were far more intense than her onanistic efforts. Jenny reached for her cunt and parted the lips seeking her clit. Almost instantaneously Sophie started to respond; her cunt moistening and her nipples hardening and, as Jenny licked and played with her clit, her excitement mounted driving her to reach for the back of Jenny's head and push her cunt against her mouth trying to fuck her face. Finally as Sophie started to come, Jenny inserted two fingers into her cunt and finger-fucked her to a climax. For a minute they lay together kissing and playing with the other's body while Tom watched, his cock in his hand, masturbating slowly. Jenny looked up and motioned Tom to join them. Once again they played with each other but this time it was Tom who was licking Sophie's clit and finger-fucking her. At first Jenny watched but, as she became excited, she joined them playing first with Sophie's breasts and then Tom's cock. Tom was good. The feeling generated by his tongue playing with and caressing her clit excited Sophie. From time to time he stopped playing with her and turned to Jenny and kissed her. As with Jenny, the feelings generated by Tom's efforts exceeded anything Sophie had experienced through her own efforts and, when he inserted his fingers and started to finger-fuck her she came almost immediately; bucking wildly against his fingers. She lay on the bed for a moment enjoying the warm afterglow of her climax but was surprised when, after only a short pause, Tom kissed her and motioned her to kneel on the bed. She understood what was expected of her and obeyed his instructions; kneeling with her rear in the air; her cunt accessible to her would-be lover. Above her Tom watched; Sophie was beautiful and he was excited both by their previous exploits and by the thought of fucking her. Poised above her he started to enter her doggy fashion and, although it was difficult at first, with Jenny's aid he pushed into her cunt. She had wondered and worried about how she would respond when Tom first entered her, remembering the pain she had suffered at Iain's hands, but was pleasantly surprised when she felt very little discomfort. Tom started slowly then, once it became apparent he wasn't hurting her, he increased his pace and, as he did so, Jenny slid under Sophie and started to play with her tits and then her clit. It didn't take her long to come; the combination of Tom's cock sliding in and out of her cunt and Jenny's lips teasing and playing with her clit driving her to her climax. Satisfied for the moment, she watched as Tom pulled out, rested on his knees and offered himself to Jenny who proceeded to lick their combined juices from his cock before circling him with her mouth and sucking him to a climax. Later, when Jenny came to make love to Sophie again, it was Tom's turn to play with his lover. As Jenny sucked on Sophie's nipples and played with her clit, Tom slid under Jenny and played with her tits and clit. As Sophie started to come he slipped out from under Jenny, got behind her and fucked her doggy fashion; all the time watching Jenny as she lay between Sophie's legs and brought her to a climax with her tongue. Seeing Sophie climax excited Tom and he drove into Jenny, bringing her to a shuddering climax seconds later. From that night to the day when Jenny graduated and went back to Windsor, she had enjoyed every minute of their relationship. When she looked back it seemed to Sophie that they had made love whenever they had the opportunity. Usually it was all three but, on occasion, it had been only two. Sophie had no problem with making love to Jenny without Tom being present but had been concerned about making love to Tom in the absence of Jenny, even though she had been re-assured by Jenny that she wasn't worried about them making love without her and besides, "I know Tom loves me and I'm not worried about you fucking him. Sometimes it's nice to concentrate on pleasing only one person. Tom and I do it all the time but you only do it with me. You need to make love to Tom without worrying about pleasing me, after all when you get married to Iain I assume you won't have a third party in bed with you." How wrong she had been. When Sophie and Tom had made love without Jenny he had proved an attentive lover but her most enjoyable two-somes had been with Jenny, particularly during the fortnight that Tom had spent in eastern Ontario on a field trip. She and Jenny had spent almost every evening and all the weekend playing with and exploring each other so that by the time Tom returned they had explored, licked and sucked every available outer and inner inch of each other's bodies. On his return Jenny, displaying her usual sense of humour, had laughed when she told him she was glad to see him as she had blisters on her tongue. It was the summer of 1917, however, which was truly memorable. It had started innocuously enough. Sophie had been invited to stay with Jenny and her family Windsor for June and July. Early June had been spent at the family home in Windsor and had been busy with Jenny showing Sophie the town and taking her to visit her relatives. In late June, as usual, the family decamped en bloc for the family cottage on Lake Huron. The Farrars were an active family and, for the first three weeks at the cottage, Sophie found herself engaging in activities ranging from horseshoes, to badminton to trips in canoes and the family launch. In mid-July they were joined by Tom and two cousins, on Jenny's mother's side, from Iowa. Douglas, 22, and his sister Irene, 18, were on holiday visiting relatives in Michigan and Ontario. The daughter bore a striking resemblance to Jenny. Short, pale-skinned with blonde haired and a boyish figure she could easily have been mistaken for Jenny's younger sister. The son had similar colouring but, unlike his sister, was tall and well built. The first week was difficult as the cottage had only three bedrooms and the girls and Tom were forced to sleep outside in two tents. At the end of the week the adults and Jenny's younger brother returned to Windsor leaving Tom, Jenny, Sophie and the cousins to spend the last week in July on their own. Jenny's mother had been reluctant to leave the younger girl with them but had been convinced by Jenny she would be all right and that she would look after her. For the first night without the parents Jenny had allocated the sleeping facilities. The two cousins were given a bedroom each with Jenny and Sophie sharing the other and Tom out in the tent. An hour after going to bed Jenny, who had arranged to meet Tom in his tent at mid-night, leant over to Sophie and tweaked her breast. Sophie had murmured in her sleep and tried to roll over. Annoyed it hadn't got the response she had anticipated, Jenny had leaned over and gently bitten Sophie's nipple. It got the response she was looking for. Sophie awoke, rubbed her nipple and, seeing her lover smiling at her, smiled back. No Flying Tonight Ch. 08 "Sophie, Tom's on his own. What say we sneak out and fuck him?" They did. Clad only in their nightgowns they tiptoed across the open living space and out of the kitchen door. When they got to the tent they found Tom sitting cross-legged and naked on the ground sheet, playing with his cock. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming. What were you doing?" "Not what you think. We were asleep." "Hmm." They sucked and fucked for two hours. For some reason Tom was more attentive than usual to both of them, particularly with Jenny whom, while Sophie watched, he fucked twice, each time doggy fashion and with an enthusiasm she hadn't seen before.. When they left the clouds had cleared and the, almost full, moon was sufficiently bright for them to make out the nearest cottage on the island across the lake. As they rounded the family cottage and headed for the back door they stopped in their tracks. Douglas was standing by the door dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, apparently heading for the privy. "Good evening ladies. Have you been for a stroll?" The girls paused for a moment before Jenny answered. "Yes. We couldn't sleep and, as it was such a lovely night, we went for a walk". "Then it wasn't you I saw going into Tom's tent and it wasn't you I saw outlined against the canvas." Both girls stared at him in dismay. "Obviously you didn't realise the lamp casts a shadow on the side of the tent." Sophie and Jenny looked at each other, trying to understand what he could have seen and if they could devise a reasonable excuse. It was Sophie who spoke. "I don't know what you thought was going on but ...." "You don't have to explain to me. I don't care what you were doing. I didn't see anyone force you into the tent and, from the looks of whatever you were doing, nobody was being held against their will." With that he turned and left them, continuing his trip to the privy. Breakfast the next morning was a difficult affair for the girls. Sophie and Jenny had got out of bed at dawn and made their way to Tom's tent where they explained what had happened on their return to the cottage. Tom wasn't too concerned. "Did he threaten to expose us? If he didn't, why are you worrying?" Neither Jenny nor Sophie were re-assured by Tom's logic and waited anxiously for Douglas to appear. When he did it was with Irene, which offered little chance for the girls to attempt to discover what he intended to do with his knowledge. The talk at the breakfast table was muted, concerned mainly with the meal and talk of what they were going to do for the day. 'Why don't we take the launch over to Todd's Island and have a picnic and swim. The beach is hidden from the wind and the lake and the rocks around the corner are good for diving." "Good idea. Irene and I love swimming, but the opportunities in Iowa are somewhat limited." They reached Todd's Island at ten o'clock. The beach at the island was located in a cove. Only ten yards wide at its widest and fifty yards long it was sheltered from sight from the lake by the headlands, which were only fifteen yards apart, and even further by the trees which went down to the water's edge on each side of the entrance to the cove. After tying up the boat and unloading the food, assorted blankets and swimsuits, the girls disappeared into the bush, returning in their swimsuits. The men had remained on the beach donning their suits while discussing the arrangements for the day. For the next two hours they sat on the beach and read; the temperature gradually rising. It was Jenny, whose colouring made sun bathing a problem, who suggested they go for a swim. In the water they swam for a while, playing tag and engaging in piggy-back fights. Sophie was Douglas's jockey while Tom had started with Jenny as his jockey but they had been defeated easily by the other two. Realising they weren't going to win Jenny had suggested Tom try Irene and was somewhat surprised when he accepted without further ado. Slipping under the water, he surfaced with Irene on his shoulders and, under her encouragement, charged the champions. For a small girl Irene was surprisingly strong and they fought for over a minute before Sophie finally threw her from her mount. As they left the water Sophie noticed Tom congratulate Irene on her efforts and then kiss her. Jenny hadn't seen it but Sophie was concerned the kiss had been on the lips and apparently reciprocated by Irene. When they reached the beach Sophie, who was still mounted on Douglas's shoulder, jumped off and flopped to the ground. Douglas lay down beside her and, in a conspiratorial whisper, told her, "You don't have to worry I'm not going to tell anyone about last night – in fact I found it quite erotic. Not only that but, I have to admit, I envied Tom." Sophie looked at him. Was he trying to tell her something or was he fishing, trying to get confirmation of what he thought he saw? It was obvious he wasn't fishing. He had either seen them or had seen the shadows on the canvas. If he was trying to tell her he wanted her then she was not sure how she ought, or wanted to, respond. Logic told her to dismiss him. She was engaged and was happy with Jenny and Tom. On the other hand he was good looking, broad shouldered and athletic. She chose to play for time, while she tried to resolve her feelings. "I'm not sure what you mean." "Sophie, I'm not an idiot. I saw the three of you making love in the tent. When I got back to cottage I spent the rest of the night thinking about it; wishing it was me and not Tom in the tent with you. You and Jenny are beautiful women and a man would be proud to have either of you as a lover. I can't make advances to Jenny as she's my cousin and already has a boyfriend but you are single and fancy-free." She was only fancy free because she hadn't worn her engagement ring since the day after Iain left for France and nobody had raised Iain's name. "I would have given anything to have been with you in the tent." Sophie looked at him closely It was clear he knew and that nothing she could say would change his mind about what had gone on in the tent. "All right you may be right but you have to understand that Jenny, Tom and I love each other and have done for over a year." "I understand and I don't blame you, but you can't blame me when I say I find you attractive and there is nothing I would like more than to make love to you." Sophie looked at him again. He was handsome, more so than Tom, well-mannered with a strong body. Lying on the beach in the sun, without a care in the world, made his advances seem less preposterous. She had made love to Tom, but she was always second best. She had been to bed with Iain, but what they had done could not be described as making love. Douglas was offering her with the opportunity both to make love to a man without Jenny in the background and to wipe out the horror of her experience with Iain. Sophie got up and reached for down for his hand. "Why don't we go for a walk? Jenny says the island is quite small and there's a small lake in the middle where the water is always warm during the summer." Clad only in their still wet bathing suits they took off, hand in hand, with Douglas leading the way. It took them less than ten minutes to reach a rocky outcrop which provided a clear view of most of the island. "Look Douglas, it's the pool Jenny told us about." They made their way down to the pool which was surrounded on all sides by trees. About a seventy feet long by about fifty feet wide and four to five feet deep in the middle it was smaller than the municipal pool in Windsor. They sat down next to each other saying nothing wondering what would happen next. Sophie wanted to kiss him but was still conventional enough to believe that it was the man who initiated sex. Beside her Douglas was almost sure that Sophie had suggested they come to the pool in order to make love. He moved closer to her, put his arm around her and said, "It's lovely here. It's funny, but it's hard to believe that, while we are sitting here, there is a war going on in Europe." It was; but she could believe it. Whatever she thought of Iain, he was fighting for his country. What had Douglas and his fellow Americans done while Iain was fighting in France? Douglas got up, looked around and turned to face her. "Sophie I'm going for a swim, but this time I'm not going to be wearing my swimsuit. Do you mind?" Sophie looked at him. Nobody could accuse him of being backward. "As you didn't say 'no', I'll take it as a 'yes'." With that he got up and, in less than five seconds, was naked. Sophie was both shocked and impressed. She had seen Tom and Iain naked but their bodies paled in comparison to that of Douglas. His body belonged on a Greek God. His upper body was chiseled to perfection with large and clearly defined muscles; a tribute to the intensive training he had put in to get in shape for the varsity football team. But it was his lower body which to her was more desirable. Since she had reached puberty, Sophie had been attracted to men's bums and Douglas's was perfect, tight and slightly prominent; his gluteus maximus definitely belonged on a Greek God. His cock, while not god-like, was in proportion to his body, similar in length to Tom's and slightly fatter. Without waiting for her, Douglas leapt to his feet and ran into the water. "Come in and join me Sophie; it's really warm." For a second Sophie considered the offer and then, without further ado, shed her cumbersome costume and ran to join him in the pond. When she reached Douglas he looked down at her – she really was beautiful; her body was everything he had imagined it to be with wide hips and proud tits on a real woman's body. He took her into his arms and kissed her, gently at first, as he sought approval for his advances, and then more insistent until he felt her respond. For the next few minutes they explored each other's bodies. Douglas played, in turn, with her tits and nipples before reaching under the water to seek her cunt. Sophie let him play with her until she could stand it no longer and reached down to grab his cock. She felt her cunt moisten as she manipulated his cock; he really was fatter than Tom; so fat her fingers only just met as she held it. "Sophie I need you and the pool's not the place." Sophie nodded and then waited as he picked her up and carried her the short distance to the shore. Their love-making was totally different to anything she had enjoyed with Tom. Tom was a considerate, almost careful, lover, Douglas was neither. Once he had set her down he kissed her once and then mounted her; she was slick and ready but was surprised by his girth. As he fucked her he talked incessantly, describing in vulgar detail what he was going to do to her. "Like that do you? Like being impaled on my cock? Well you'd better because you're going to be enjoying it for the next half an hour. Like it rough do you? All you college girls like it rough. By the time I'm finished with you you'll know you've been fucked ... and fucked good." He was true to his word. He pounded her from the first thrust, his efforts stretching her cunt to accommodate his girth. Sophie had felt annoyed, even frightened, at first, fearing he was another Iain but, as they continued, it was clear he was interested in the effect he was having on her. "That's it. I can feel your cunt getting bigger. It had better because, when I come, there will be enough to fill your little cunt twice over" It was vulgar, but described accurately what was happening to her. In what seemed like only a minute she felt herself starting to come. She was surprised; he had made no effort at foreplay; he had attacked her cunt with a vengeance, but she was responding to him. He was acting like a prize bull on a farm, fucking her as though his only goal was to come and to impregnate her. In another circumstance she may have been turned off but this time she was caught up in the virility of his love-making. As she started to come she hoped that he was going to come with her. She wanted to feel part of a fucking. She wanted to feel she was being used and wanted to feel his spunk spraying her womb as she came. They came together; Douglas ramming into her so hard that she was momentarily concerned she would be sore for a week. As she came she clawed at her lover's back raising welts which, the next morning, he found difficult to explain to his sister and which were met with a knowing leer. As he had promised his come did fill her cunt; mixing with her juices and leaking out of cunt and down her legs. His post-coital behavior was the complete opposite of his love-making technique. As soon as he had come down he was completely attentive to her, kissing her, stroking her hair, playing with her tits and muttering, almost embarrassing, endearments. But, ten minutes later, when she felt his cock start to harden, he once again became all business. After briefly kissing her picked her up and turned her over before roughly grabbing her around the hips, pulling her bum into the air and presenting her cunt for his enjoyment. This time their love-making took a little longer but the result was the same. He pounded her and she responded. They came together; his spunk flooding her cunt and once again leaking down her legs. They fucked for the rest of the week, often three or four times a night. Jenny had asked her what Douglas was like and there was something in her voice which made her think Jenny would not have been averse to trying out her cousin. She thought for a moment about suggesting they should try a threesome or foursome but stopped. She was enjoying fucking Douglas and she needed to be re-assured she could find a man on her own; Douglas was providing that re-assurance. The next year almost no mention was made of Douglas. He had volunteered for the US army and had been shipped overseas but, by the time the war had ended, had not seen action. He wrote to her twice but, even though she had replied to both, there were no more letters. The last time she had heard of him was in a letter from Jenny telling her he had married, was living in Des Moines and working for a bank. She Jenny and Tom resumed their relationship and while, if anything the sex was better than the previous year, in the back of her mind she had the feeling she was missing out and, by restricting her sex life to Jenny and Tom, all she was doing was accepting her fate and waiting for Iain. When Jenny left it felt as if she had lost a member of her family; she had learned almost everything she knew about sex from Jenny and Tom; including the knowledge that three isn't always a crowd and that a woman can love a woman – and enjoy it. But she had also learned from Douglas that one-on-one sex with a man of her own was also enjoyable. No Flying Tonight Ch. 09 This is approximately the half-way point in the story. If you want the complete version you may e-mail me and I will forward it as a Word document. Jack was right. The C.O. listened to his excuse and as he had heard a thousand just like it, confined him to barracks for fourteen days. The next two weeks were a mixture of torment and exhilaration; torment, because he wanted to see Sophie and couldn't; exhilaration, because he was actually flying. The training school used open-cockpit Tiger Moths, a plane similar to the one he'd flown in England, and Harvards. His first flight was with an instructor who obviously hadn't read his file and had no idea he could fly. When he finally handed the controls over to Jack, he was amazed by his ability. Usually, on the first flight, the trainee practiced gaining and losing altitude and, if everything went well, gentle banking before handing back the controls to the instructor for landing. Jack flew the plane as though it was part of him; performing his tasks with practiced ease. When they came into land the instructor shouted to him through the speaking tube, telling him 'Carry on. You can land it.' Jack landed effortlessly and taxied back to the hanger. No more Link trainer; only the clouds. The next time he flew the instructor allowed him to take-off and land. Two flights later he flew solo. If he was enjoying his days, his evenings were dismal. He wanted to see Sophie, but was confined to barracks. He called almost every day, including four occasions when she was out, but when she answered, he found it difficult to put into words what he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her he forgave her and it didn't matter what had happened, but each time he tried he lost his resolve and the conversation turned to everyday matters. His punishment ended on the Saturday at midnight which meant, even if he saw her on the Sunday, they wouldn't be able to go out dancing or even for a drink. In addition to antediluvian drinking laws, 'Ontario the Good' had onerous restrictions with respect to Sundays. No drinking or dancing, but you were allowed go to church. He called her on the Saturday morning and asked if he might return the car on the Sunday evening. "Of course. Will you have eaten?" "I don't have to. Just what are you offering?" From the chuckle in his voice she recognised the double éntrendre. "Well, I could say me, but I am prepared to satiate your less carnal appetite. I was going to offer roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. I know you must have missed it." "Lovely. I have missed it, but not as much as I've missed you." He returned the car at 5.49 p.m., exactly nineteen minutes after he'd left camp. He had tried for eighteen, but Upper James Street was busy with people returning home from visiting relatives; another activity apparently permitted in Hamilton on a Sunday. She was waiting at the door, dressed in a skirt and blouse and sporting a slightly different, younger hair style than the last time had seen her. She greeted him on the doorstep with a kiss and then peered round him to see if any of her neighbours were looking. Assured they weren't, she kissed him again and pulled him inside. She took his uniform jacket and hung it up, showed him into the living room, motioned him to sit down on the sofa and went and sat next to him. He looked at her and decided his first impressions of her had been right; she was beautiful. She spoke first. "I'm glad you came. I've missed you." "I've missed you too. I've counted all of the almost three hundred and fifty-three and a half hours since I last saw you." Sophie laughed. Jack had revealed his youth on a couple of occasions, but she couldn't fault him. It made her happy to finally feel wanted for herself and by someone she trusted to tell her the truth. She got up and walked over to the drinks' cabinet. Her eyes sparkled as, with a hint of a leer, she asked, "What would you like, and how would you like it?" He smiled; if she wanted to play a game of double éntrendres, he was happy to oblige. "It may be a little early for what I'd like; so I'll just have a scotch." She smiled and poured him a scotch and a gin and tonic for herself. "Cheers." "Cheers. Mm, that's good. Where did you get it from?" "It was Iain's. I thought you might like it. It is, or was, his most expensive single malt. After all, you've already had his widow so you might as well have his whisky." He smiled, but was perplexed. She was seemingly at ease with sex. She engaged in sexual banter, she let herself be fucked by a man she'd met only three times - once on a bus - she walked around in the nude and yet, she was apparently frigid or was when it came to being made love to. He had seen her reaction, but somehow it didn't seem to fit. For the next twenty minutes they engaged in small talk; she told him about the letters she'd received from her children and he told her about his flying exploits. He replenished their drinks, making sure hers was a large one. She went into the kitchen, opened and shut the stove, returned to the living room and informed him dinner would be ready in about an hour. "We've got an hour to fill. Would you like to see the house and garden?" "I would." They moved into the back garden with their drinks. The garden was large, almost half an acre, laid out in English style, with a large lawn edged with wide borders of roses, hydrangeas, geraniums and irises. In the centre was a pond containing a small, fish shaped fountain which sprayed water from its mouth. There were a number of large, goldfish-like fish in the pond which, when they approached, came to the side looking to be fed. "They're koi. My parents kept them and when, after my father died, my mother sold the house she gave me the koi. They live forever." Did 'ever' mean longer than the average bomber pilot? "What's your garden like at home, Jack?" "Well, I'm not much of a gardener, but I can tell you it's about the same size as this and the plants seem similar. But we definitely don't have koi." They walked slowly around the flower beds as she named the flowers. She held his arm and once, when they stopped, kissed him on the cheek. "It's getting cool. Let's go inside and I'll show you the house." Jack had seen most of the house on the night of the dance, but was curious about the different styles of furniture and décor. The tour of the house was much quicker than the garden and took in the ground floor only. "The art deco is mine, but most of the furniture came from my husband's family and we replaced it with more of the same. I had never considered changing any of it until I went London and saw an art deco box in the Burlington Arcade and just couldn't resist the temptation. It was so beautiful. Iain was with me and didn't want me to buy it, but I was determined to have it. One day, after he'd been out all night with his friend and his wife, I went back to the store and bought it. Since then I've added some pieces, but it's been difficult as I haven't been able to find any in Hamilton and I've had to go to Toronto." When they reached the kitchen, she checked the food. The vegetables and meat were ready and all that needed to be done was to make the Yorkshire pudding. She took the meat from the oven, placed it on a carving tray on the top of the stove, poured the batter for the Yorkshire pudding into the meat pan and put it back into the stove. While the pudding was cooking, Jack watched as she strained the vegetables and put them into the serving dishes. The kitchen routine was unfamiliar to Jack. At home he was used to his mother and sister doing all the cooking, usually appearing at the table just in time for the meal to be served and in the Officers' mess, he had his meals served by orderlies. In spite of his inability to contribute to the cooking he remained in the kitchen, taking pleasure in watching her do something for him. "Take the vegetables and the meat into the dining room, please Jack. The Yorkshire pudding is nearly ready." He took the vegetable into the dining room and set them in the centre of a table which was set, almost formally, with a place setting at either end and which could have easily accommodated twelve. When he returned for the meat, which looked like the monthly ration for a family of four in Britain, she was taking the finished Yorkshire pudding from the pan and putting it on a plate. He returned with the meat, placing it with the vegetables and sat at the end furthest from the kitchen, waiting for her. She came in a minute later, juggling two warm plates, the Yorkshire pudding and a gravy boat. He jumped up, took the gravy boat and placed it in the centre of the table and returned to his seat. She put the plates down in the center of the table next to the meat and vegetables, put Yorkshire pudding on both plates and asked him, "What vegetables would you like with your Yorkshire pudding?" Jack smiled. At home he'd always eaten his Yorkshire pudding in Yorkshire fashion; with gravy only and before the main course. Obviously in Canada, one ate it with the main course. "Everything; please." He watched as she put the vegetables on his plate and handed it to him. He looked for the meat, which was on a carving dish in the centre of the table, and it suddenly occurred to him; his father wasn't there to carve. He looked at Sophie, but she was serving herself vegetables from a tureen. Well, he thought, there's no time like the present to learn. He picked up the knife and ran his finger along the blade, a ritual he'd seen his father perform every Sunday, but had no idea what he would do if it wasn't sharp. It was and gratefully, he picked up the carving fork and started to carve. As he carved three slices for Sophie and put them on her plate and then four for himself, he realised the Sunday carving ritual was a fraud and didn't require years of practice and a Y chromosome. They ate in silence for a few seconds before Sophie said, "I've decanted a bottle of red wine, a Medoc, which should be ready by now. It was one my husband bought and I thought, as you've already drunk his scotch and had his widow, you might as well drink his wine." She was teasing him again. Would she use the same joke for the third time if she offered him a cigar? "It's in the kitchen, on the side. Would you like to fetch it?" The wine was superb, a Chateau Lafite Rothschild, 1934. Jack, who had very little experience of wine and certainly had no idea of its quality, couldn't tell but from what he knew about her husband, he guessed it would be. The food was a different matter. Sophie had served him with a meal as well cooked as anything his mother had ever served and about that, he felt well qualified to give his opinion. By the time he'd cleared his plate and had a second serving, he was full. Noticing he had finished, she got up, picked up her plate and then his. "That was wonderful. I don't think I could eat another thing." "What about dessert? I've got something special for you." "I don't think I can. I'm full." "But I've been working on it all day." He could hear the disappointment in her voice and not wishing to hurt her, he changed his mind. "Well, just a little then." She beamed and walked into the kitchen. Jack waited but couldn't hear any sound coming from the kitchen and wondered if something had happened. Just as he was about to get up, he heard her moving about. A minute later she said, "Put the lights out, Jack. It's a surprise and I need the lights out." He complied and sat wondering what she'd made. Was it going to be something flambé? "Close your eyes." From the sound of her voice she must be waiting at the door. He closed his eyes and heard her come in to the dining room. She struck a match. It must be flambé. He heard her walk towards her end of the table. "All right. You can open your eyes." He was wrong. She had used the match to light one of the candles in a silver candelabra sitting in the middle of the table. He couldn't see her as the single candle shed very little light and he was looking directly into it. He could see she wasn't sitting in her chair but when he looked around, she was still not visible. Then she appeared, rising slowly from behind her chair. It was difficult for Jack to see her clearly. He could see she was carrying something, but what was she carrying and what the heck was she wearing? As she came towards him he could see. She was naked except for a maid's pinafore and hat, black nylon stockings held up by gold garters and a pair of black, Vargas pin-up style, high heeled shoes. In her hand was a plate containing two giant scoops of ice-cream topped with two bright red cherries. She was laughing. When she reached his end of the table she curtsied to him, rested the plate on her breasts and said, "For sir. For his special enjoyment. Which one would he prefer?" She profferred the plate and then her right breast. "Is it to be the cold dessert or the warm dessert?" Afterwards, when they were lying together and talking, he had teased her, telling her he'd really wanted the ice-cream but didn't want to disappoint her, but there had been no doubt in his mind when she had posed the question that the warm dessert was his first choice. He got up, took the ice-cream from her, put it on the table and took hold of her hand. "Turn around." She pirouetted once and then again. "Mmm, not bad...for a fifty year-old dessert....but I think the cherries on this one aren't quite as big as the first option." "Cheeky. This dessert's only just forty-six and you get to eat these cherries more than once. Still, if it's short term pleasure you want, you'll need a dessert spoon." Forty-six; he found it hard to believe his mother was only three years older than Sophie; it was as if they belonged to two different generations. Sophie was slim, lithe, and vivacious and looked at least five, even ten years younger than she was. His mother was, well, motherly. When he compared them again later he realised his comparison had been coloured by the fact Sophie was standing before him, almost naked and available, and his mother was an ocean away and in his mind, dressed in comfortable, sensible, motherly clothes. On the other hand, comparing them in the same state of undress, Sophie in the now and his mother from memory, he had to admit his mother had bigger, although droopier tits with longer and fatter nipples or at least she had the last time he'd seen them just over a year ago. It was just after he had starting going out with Jane when, looking for his father's car keys, he had gone into his parents' bedroom and had found his mother naked, in the act of putting on her brassiere. The thing he'd remembered, other than her tits and the hairiness of her cunt, was her response. She hadn't screamed or rushed to cover herself but had merely looked at him, raised her eyebrows and turned away slowly, still leaving him a partial view of her left tit. He had been embarrassed, but the next day she'd treated him as she always had and subsequently, had only mentioned the matter once. He'd been looking at a photo, in one of his sister's film magazines, of a minor film actress wearing an evening dress which was somewhat revealing. She had seen what he was looking at and with a glint in her eye, had said, "It doesn't hide a lot but, then, it looks like she hasn't got much to hide. I would have thought you would have preferred ladies with a little more to offer - or that's what it looked like last time I caught you looking." His mother was right and Sophie did have a little more to offer than both the starlet and Jane. "What do I need to do if I select the second option?" "Not much; and if you really want to enjoy it, I'd say you're over-dressed." He let go of her hand and started to undress. As he removed his shirt and tie she reached for his belt and slipped it off. By the time he'd removed his shirt, his trousers were round his ankles and she was picking up his left foot. "Pick your foot up." He complied and then, without prompting, picked up the other foot. She removed the other leg from his trousers and then his socks. "Take off my apron." He put his hand round her back, undid the bow and slipped the apron over her head. As her tits came into view, he thought once again of his mother and how they compared with hers. Sophie's were definitely smaller. "Take off my stockings." As he peeled off her stockings he looked down at her cunt and compared it with the only women he had seen naked. Jane's cunt was almost child-like; the copper-coloured hair sparse in comparison to the dark and luxuriant growth sported by Sophie and his mother, although why he was thinking of his mother at this moment he found it difficult to understand.. He was about to fuck a beautiful women and he was comparing her with his mother, someone he had never thought about in a sexual way or at least not until he had seen her naked. Sophie broke his chain of thoughts. "Let's go upstairs. It's much more comfortable in bed than on the rug." They ran upstairs naked with his cock and her tits bouncing as they climbed the stairs. She looked almost child-like, smiling and laughing as she bounded up the stairs in front of him. The master bedroom was enormous, at least three times the size of his parents' room and furnished eclectically. The furniture was obviously her husband's choice, comprising overstuffed chairs and a solid hardwood bed and headboard. The décor showed touches of her hand and included some examples of art deco and an odd item, an erotic picture either from or inspired by the 'Karma Sutra'. She saw him looking at it and smiling, said, "I bought it last week in a seedy little shop in Toronto. I bought it because the man's cock is larger than the trifle you have between your legs." He looked and as the man's cock was enormous, had to agree she was right. There was no way the woman he was about to fuck was going to get it inside her. "I put it up just before you got here and I'm going to leave it up to remind me of you when you're not here; although I don't know how I'll explain it to my sister or my daughter." He kissed her; first on the lips, then on the tits and then, holding her hand, led her to the bed, where he picked her up and laid her in the middle. He got on the bed, knelt over her and kissed her again. She responded, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Their tongues fenced for several seconds before she released him and said, "Jack, I know I disappointed you last time but this time it will be better. I promise you." "You don't need to apologise. I enjoyed it." What he said was true, but it was only half the truth. He had enjoyed it, but he would have enjoyed it much more if he'd felt her respond. Jane had shown him there was a difference between having sex and making love and the latter required the whole-hearted participation of both parties to be properly classified as making love. "I can reach my climax when I play with myself, or even when you do it to me. What I can't understand is why, when we made love, it didn't excite me. I loved it when you held me and kissed me but when you were inside me, it felt the same as when I was in bed with Iain." He understood she was only trying to describe what she felt, but was hurt she would compare him to her husband. "Sophie, I love you. I realise you didn't mean to compare me with Iain, but what you said just now was hurtful. I don't know what happened between you and Iain, but I am not Iain." She hadn't realised what she'd said and when she recalled her words, she felt ashamed. She knew he loved her and he'd made love to her with love. It wasn't his fault she couldn't reach her climax. He had treated her as a lover should and it was she who was the one at fault. She started to cry and as the tears poured down her cheeks, she tried to apologise and explain what she'd really meant. No Flying Tonight Ch. 09 "Jack, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to compare you with Iain. What I was trying to do was to convey to you what I felt when we were making love and not to blame you. It's all my fault. I wanted to respond to your love-making and you can't imagine the despair I felt when I couldn't. That's what I meant to say. You have to believe me." She paused; she knew he was upset and if she wasn't careful what she said, she may lose him. Her only chance was to tell him about her marriage to Iain. "Jack, I didn't want to tell you about my relationship with Iain. I find it difficult to think about it, never mind talk about it, but if I don't, you'll never understand." Sophie stopped and looked at Jack. She was going to tell him about all of her sex life, from the happy times with Jenny and Tom to the misery of her marriage. Telling him about her sex life with Jenny and Tom would be embarrassing but relatively easy; telling him about Douglas was going to be another matter. It was almost as though she assumed he would accept her relationship with Jenny and Tom because of the uniqueness of the situation, but exclusive sex with a man would be unacceptable. Telling him about Iain was going to be almost impossible and ran the risk of him seeing her as damaged goods and not someone he would want as a lover; but she had to do it "Jack, I want and need to tell you everything about my sex life. It's the only way I can get you to understand my problem." Sophie started, hesitatingly at first and then with a feeling of inevitability as she recounted her story, starting with sex with Jenny and Tom but omitting the encounter with Douglas. Jack listened intently. He hadn't heard of lesbian or three-way sex and it intrigued him and he had to admit, excited him. At first he wondered how her relationship with Jenny and Tom could possibly have any effect on her current behaviour, since from the tone of her voice and her demeanor, it appeared she had enjoyed the experience. When she had finished recounting her experiences with her student lovers she paused before asking him, "Does what I've just told you, shock you?" He thought. Initially it had shocked him, but the more he had heard, the less shocking and the more exciting it had seemed. "No. It sounds as if you really enjoyed it, but I don't understand why this has anything to do with the last time we tried to make love." "It doesn't, but I felt I needed to tell you everything I enjoyed the sex with Jenny and Tom and was naïve enough to believe all sex was like that. Iain soon disabused me of that belief. Life with him was a nightmare and I'm sure it's the reason I couldn't respond to you the last time we tried to make love." She paused. She was going to tell him about her relationship with Iain but even now, was unsure how much detail to reveal. When she started, she was still not certain what she was going to say. "After the war ended Iain stayed in England, at first in the Army and then, according to him, researching the British steel industry. He arrived back in the early summer of 1919, just as I completed my first year of law school. By that time he'd already written and tried to set a date for our wedding, but I'd managed to put him off. When he got home he was insistent, but I told him I would marry him only if he would agree to me finishing law school. He didn't want to agree but as he could see I was adamant, he gave in. It was one of the only two instances in our marriage when he agreed to something which I wanted and with which he disagreed. We got married in the summer of 1919. On our wedding night he raped me." She paused; almost as if inviting a question. Jack remained silent. She continued. "I know it wasn't legally rape. I'm a lawyer and I know a husband can't legally rape his wife, but that's what he did to me. During the reception he'd been drinking heavily with some of his old army friends and when the time came for us to leave on our honeymoon, he was drunk, truculent and reluctant to go. We had booked into the Royal Connaught for the night as our train for New York didn't leave until 9.15 a.m. the next day. When we got to the hotel he was belligerent with the receptionist and insisted on changing our room for one with a window overlooking King Street. When we got to our room he didn't carry me over the thresh-hold, as I'd imagined he would, but just opened the door and let me in. "I sat on the bed and took my shoes off while he tipped the bell-hop. Iain went into the bathroom and I picked up my travelling case and started to unpack the things I needed for the night. I'd just finished unpacking when he came out of the bathroom completely naked and as his penis was totally erect, obviously excited. I had expected to make love to him but I didn't expect it to be just then. I was still dressed, which seemed to annoy him. He said nothing to me other than 'get undressed'. Apparently, I didn't comply quickly enough and I'd just finished taking off my dress and stockings and was trying to take off my under-slip when he grabbed me and pushed me face-down onto the bed. I still had my underwear on and he grabbed them and ripped them so violently he tore them. They were white silk, from Paris and really expensive. They were a present from my mother, who had bought them for me to wear at the wedding. "Once he'd ripped them off he pushed me onto my stomach and tried to enter me from behind. I was stunned. Even during our love-making in the King Edward he had been polite and civil but this time, there was no civility. He wanted me and he was giving me no choice but to go along with what he wanted. He was drunk and aggressive and I was frightened and worried what he might do if I resisted. I didn't resist. I let him enter me and then lay there, letting him take me from behind. It was the same as the night we spent at the King Edward. He entered me and reached his climax almost immediately. When he'd finished he didn't kiss me and hardly looked at me. It was almost as if I didn't exist. Jenny and Tom had taught me what making love was supposed to be like and this bore no resemblance to what I'd learned from them. "I was frightened, hurt and ashamed by what had happened. I stayed awake most of the night, trying to understand why he'd made love to me the way he had. In the end I managed to get to sleep, but when I awoke in the morning, he was sitting in a chair at the side of the bed with just his pyjama bottoms on, smoking and watching me. When he realised I was awake, he came over to the bed and kissed me. I don't know why. The kiss had no passion; it was as though he was fulfilling an obligation or as I mistakenly thought at the time, it was a clumsy apology for his behaviour of the night before. "I got up and went into the bathroom and ran the bath. I was sore. When he'd taken me the night before I wasn't excited, I was dry and my body wasn't ready for him. How could it have been? He hadn't spoken to me, he hadn't kissed or held me. These were all the things I had expected and he had done nothing, other than rape me. "He must have been waiting at the bathroom door because as soon as I'd got undressed, he came into the bathroom totally naked. He was excited as he'd been the night before, but I wasn't and I certainly didn't want him. I tried to get into the bath but he grabbed me from behind and trapped me against its side. I tried to struggle but he just held me tighter and then forced me over until I was almost bent double, with my hands against the rim of the bath. I could feel his penis probing for my vagina and, when he couldn't find my opening, he reached down and grabbed it with his hand. He hadn't said anything, but he was obviously getting tired of my lack of co-operation. He turned me around, gave me a look of pure venom and told me what he was going to do and although I can't remember the actual words, they were something like; 'You're my wife and I want you. I don't care what you want. I want to fuck you and I'm going to fuck you. You can forget about a bath. I'm going to fuck you.' "I was frightened. This time he wasn't drunk, but the look on his face had frightened me even more than he had the previous night. I didn't know what he might do to me if I didn't comply and so, even though I was sore, I let him bend me over and take me, once again, from behind. "I didn't mind being taken 'doggy fashion', in fact when I was making love to Jenny and Tom I liked it, particularly when all three of us were involved, but with Iain it was something different. It was as if he took me that way because he thought if he couldn't see my face, he didn't have to consider my feelings; just his own. When I was making love to either Jenny or Tom or when I was watching them make love, I often watched their faces and got pleasure from seeing their reactions. Why didn't Iain want to know what I was feeling? When he'd finished with me, he totally ignored me in the same way as he'd done the night before. I stood there crying, with his semen leaking from my vagina and dripping onto my thighs. He got washed and dressed without a word and told me he was going down to breakfast and if I wanted any, I had ten minutes. "I was sore and even more worried than the night before. The night before he'd been drunk, but that morning he was sober. I didn't know what to do. I knew I couldn't tell anyone or do anything. Even if I could have plucked up enough courage to talk to her, my mother would have told me it was my duty; women didn't have to enjoy sex, and if I didn't like it, then I would just have to put up with it. "From then on he almost always took me from behind, sometimes when he'd been drinking too much, not even bothering to take off his clothes. I felt like a mare being serviced by a stallion – but that wasn't the worst of it. "I became pregnant with Catherine when we had been married for eighteen months. I didn't want to become pregnant as I was still school, but whenever he'd taken me, he had never taken any precautions. I didn't know whether or not I was happy. I wanted children; but not just then. I wanted to finish law school and most of all, I was afraid children would tie me, even more, to him. I graduated from law school, but only because of the support of my mother and my sister. Iain wanted me to leave, but I was determined to graduate – and I did. "One day, when I was seven months pregnant with Catherine, he was trying to make love to me – for some reason he made love to me far more often when I was pregnant - when he tried to push his penis into my rear. I wasn't expecting it and it shocked me. I tried to roll over onto my stomach but he held me down and told me he was going to 'stick his cock into my arse' and as if trying to justify it, he was doing it this way so he wouldn't hurt the baby. "The language was vulgar and not something I expected from him and also, I didn't believe him, but as I didn't want to be blamed if anything happened to the baby, I let him do it to me. The pain was terrible; much worse than our wedding night. From then on until the day he died he hardly ever made love to me properly - in my vagina that is - except when he insisted on trying for another baby. When I became pregnant with Andrew it was the end of proper sex and from that day on, he would only take me in my rear. After a while it didn't hurt any more, but it took me a long time before I got over the shame of lying with my face in the pillow while he was forcing his penis into my rear." Sophie paused again. The next part of her story was humiliating. She'd consented to her husband's demands because he was her husband but his later use of her body to entertain his friends, in effect turning her into a whore, was demeaning and so shameful it hurt her every time she thought of it. It had started sometime in 1932, when he had come home from a regimental reunion with a friend who'd served in France with him. She'd been lying in bed reading when she'd heard a cab pull up and then draw away. It was about one in the morning and from the noise they were making as they came up the drive, it was apparent they were both drunk. She heard them stumble into the house and then go into the living room; to have a drink she thought. She finished reading and went to sleep but was awoken, some time later, by the sound of voices in the bedroom and the bedside light being switched on. She could see her husband and his friend; her husband standing naked next to the bed and his friend at the foot of the bed, taking off his underwear. She'd tried to turn the bedside light off but her husband had grabbed her arm and forced her back onto the bed. She could see his penis was erect, but couldn't believe he was going to try and make love to her with his friend in the room. She had been wrong. He'd turned her over as usual, pulled up her night-dress but instead of entering her, he'd held it up, exposing her rear. She heard his friend come over and felt a hand stroke her, followed by a finger entering her rear. It wasn't unusual as her husband often did this, particularly if he'd been drinking and wasn't hard enough to enter her; apparently it excited him. But it didn't feel like her husband's finger, it was much fatter and when she felt him push his thumb inside her cunt, she knew it was his accomplice as Iain had never done that to her. She had been frightened and wanted to scream, but had been scared of what they might do and had remained silent. She heard her husband say, 'Let her go Max'; which resulted in the finger and thumb being removed and someone, whom she assumed was her husband, mounted her. Over the years he'd gradually changed the way he'd fucked her. At first he'd taken her violently, driving his penis into her as though he wanted to tear her in two and often finishing in less than two minutes. As he'd got older he'd slowed down, as if savouring the act, although, sometimes, she felt he was trying to deliberately prolong her humiliation. On this occasion he'd reverted to his former approach; taking her violently and when he reached his climax, driving into her so hard it felt as if he were trying to push his penis into her bowels. When he finished and got off her, she heard him tell his friend, 'All right Max, your turn'. She had half expected it, but was still horrified. Before she could react, they had pinned her to the bed. His friend got on top of her but unlike Iain, played with her body in what he imagined was foreplay. He grabbed her breasts and squeezed them so violently the bruises lasted for over a week. He put his finger in her rear and his thumb in her vagina - just as he'd done before Iain had taken her - and played with her; thinking she would respond . When it became obvious it she wasn't responding, he tried to insert his penis into her vagina. It was tight and he had a hard time getting even part way in. Once he realised she was too tight and dry to make it enjoyable, he gave up and pushed himself into her come-coated rear. She was used to Iain, but his friend's penis was longer and fatter and he was far more aggressive and by the time he'd come in her, she had started to bleed. When his friend had finished, Iain had laughed and said, "Just like France; and as our English friends would say, 'if one of us has to bat on a sticky wicket, then rather you than me'." She couldn't believe it; her husband had shared her with his friend, without her permission and was treating it as a joke. She should have left him then but knew she couldn't. The children were still young and she'd nowhere to go but her parents' home. She knew she couldn't tell them what had happened and without an explanation, they were not likely to be supportive. It wasn't only a lack of support from her parents which would pose a problem. Iain was a respected member of Hamilton society and if she left him, she would, almost certainly, be ostracised, probably lose most of her legal clientele and with it any chance she had of supporting herself and the children. She also thought, even for Iain, this incident must be an aberration and had only happened because he was drunk. She couldn't believe he would let it happen again. As she recalled the nights of shame she had experienced servicing her husband and his friend she started to cry. Listening to her describe her torment Jack found it difficult to believe what she was telling him. Sophie had been abused, fucked without love and offered and used like a whore. At first he had been angry at her husband and his friend; angrier than he'd ever been but as he heard more of her story, he started to feel sorry for her and wanted to reach out and hold her; to show her he loved her and wasn't going to abuse her. Her final humiliation also involved her husband's friend. "I thought sharing me was the worst they could do to me but again I was wrong. His friend, Max, was a lieutenant-colonel in the army, stationed in Ottawa and somehow or other he managed to arrange visits to the Hamilton area at least once a month. Every time he came to visit they went out drinking and when they came back, treated me as their own sexual toy. I tried to fight them but whatever I said or did, they just ignored me. I got no respite; they even took me when I was menstruating since, in Iain's words, 'there was no problem with my rear'. "This went on for almost four years before they subjected me to my final humiliation. I knew to expect they would both take me as soon as they arrived home. One would mount me; it would appear they normally flipped a coin for who went first, while the other waited his turn. On this occasion they ran up the stairs and burst into the room. Usually, when I expected them, I lay face down on the bed with my night-dress round my waist. It was less humiliating if I didn't have to face them and the more accessible I was, the quicker it was. This time something was different. "Normally, the first one would mount me within seconds of them entering the room; particularly if it was Max's turn and I could always tell when it was Max's turn first because he would have undressed and entered me almost before Iain started to get undressed. Iain usually undressed slowly; either to savour the moment or to prolong my humiliation. This time I heard them approach me and then stop. It wasn't something they usually did and it made me apprehensive; afterwards I deduced they were trying to work out what to do or how to do it. Iain picked me up, turned me over and laid me on my back. My first thought was they were going to take me in my vagina and I would be forced to look at them while they were violating me. It was worse than that. "For the first time in almost fifteen years Iain tried to use my vagina and, over those years, it had become tighter and, since I was not excited, it was dry. I can't describe how much it hurt and, although he pushed as hard as he could, it took a long time for him to get it all the way in. When he finally managed he turned me over so that he was lying under me with his penis in my vagina. I couldn't understand what he was doing and why he was doing it, but it didn't take long for me to find out what they had planned. His friend got on the bed behind me and started to insert his penis in my rear, but found it more difficult than usual - I don't think he had ever done it that way before. It was only a temporary respite as my rear was used to being violated and it didn't take him long to get it in. It must have really excited them because when they took me they were far more aggressive than usual. I kept my eyes closed but once, when his friend hurt me, I opened them. I can't describe the look on Iain's face. He looked as though he hated me and wasn't trying to make love to me, but was trying to kill me. I know it sounds fanciful, but that's what it looked like. When they finished, I lay there, with semen leaking out of my vagina and my rear, feeling totally humiliated. No Flying Tonight Ch. 09 "They had me not once but twice that night and from then on, whenever his friend visited, they usually took me at the same time. One night, following the annual mess night, they took me three times; the last time at six in the morning. By now, however, I'd become inured to their use of my body. I was just their repository and whatever they did, it wasn't me who was making love to them; it was just my body. "I might have been able to rationalise their treatment of me but when they started to take me in my vagina I started to worry, not about them using it, since by now I didn't care where they took me, but because neither of them took any precautions. Almost every month I waited; worrying one of them had made me pregnant. One month, in early 1939, which was the last month I had sex with his friend, I missed my period entirely and didn't know where to turn. Fortunately, it re-appeared, almost a month late. When it happened again, five months later, I was concerned as I hadn't had sex with anyone for almost two months, and so I went to Toronto to see a doctor friend. I don't know whether I was pleased or sad when she told me, although it was slightly earlier than she would have expected, I was probably starting the menopause. It has dragged on for almost three years now and as it's been almost three months since I've had a period, you don't have to worry that you've made me pregnant – although you didn't appear to be very worried at the time." For the first time since starting her story she smiled. "In early 1939 his friend was posted to London and from then on, Iain lost almost all interest in me. From time to time, when he was drunk, he took me as usual, but it didn't happen often. In July of 1939 Max got married to a French woman living in London and invited us to the wedding. We both went and I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed it; with the exception, that is, of the obvious relationship between my husband and the newly married couple. On three separate occasions before the ceremony Iain stayed out until dawn and when he returned, he reeked of sex and her perfume. "When we got back to Hamilton he announced he was going to join up. As he was forty-five, I thought he was joking but it appears his friend and his colleagues in the reserves were able to pull enough strings to ensure he was accepted and posted to London as a staff officer. He went to London in early 1940 and I didn't hear from him again. Friends returning from London told me they'd seen him and that he was all right, but seemed cautious when I asked where he was living. Grace Meadows, a friend from Hamilton who had been in London with her husband when the war started and who returned in early 1941, was less reticent, but still couldn't bring herself to tell me he was living in a ménage-á-trois with Max and his wife. "All three of them died in 1941 in a bombing raid. I don't think they found his body and I don't care. All I know is a German pilot unwittingly gave me a chance to start my life again." To Jack it was an almost unbelievable story, which had become more unbelievable as she related it, and a lot to absorb. He'd expected she would detail some form of indifference or mis-treatment at the hands of her husband, but this was something which sounded so depraved as to be incredible. For all his new found sexual experience, he was naïve when it came to personal relationships. His parents were happily married, or appeared to be, and he couldn't imagine his father fucking his mother in her bum and even less, sharing her with a friend and yet, this is what had happened to Sophie. He reached out and kissed her, covering her face with a multitude of small kisses. She had been expressionless while she told her story but as they kissed, her faced changed and she smiled and then reached out and hugged him. He returned the hug and stroked her back. "I'm sorry I couldn't enjoy it when you made love to me. I enjoy it when I play with myself and I felt the same when you played with me but since Jenny and Tom, I've never reached a climax from making love." That was a lie, she had reached a climax with Douglas and the member of the varsity and although she'd revealed the almost unbelievable truths about her husband and her room-mate and boyfriend, she was unprepared to admit to another infidelity. "I want to enjoy our love-making, but my body won't let me." He knew she meant it as the despair she had mentioned was written all over her face. He kissed her and she responded, clinging to him as though she thought he was going to get up and leave her. She reached down and grabbed his cock and then, without warning, bowed down and started to kiss it. Not the gentle kisses, which are usually the precursors to oral sex, but rapid fire kisses of the type which told of desperation; of the need to tell a lover you wanted them before they had a chance to reject you. Jack understood what she was doing and why she was doing it. She needn't be afraid. He wasn't going to leave her. "Sophie – stop. I'm not going anywhere. I still want you. I know we can work it out. We've got time." He picked her up by the shoulders and kissed her very gently and very slowly, starting on her forehead and then working around her face from her eye-brows and eye-lids to the tip of her nose then to her chin and her cheeks. When he'd finished on her face he kissed her neck, starting at the hollow of her throat and working his way to the base of her ears. When he got to her ears he stopped kissing and started to nibble; small, almost imperceptible, nibbles which made her shiver. She felt her cunt start to moisten. She hadn't felt anything like this since she'd made love to Jenny. She'd fucked Tom and Douglas and enjoyed it, but it was the sensations she'd felt from Jenny's caresses and lips she remembered most. She started to cry again; crying for herself; remembering the good times she'd had in university and the torment she'd endured since then. Jack could hear her crying and thought it was a continuation of her remorse for her treatment of him. "It's all right. I know you didn't mean it. I love you. Whatever you've done or has been done to you makes no difference. I love you because you're kind, generous, clever and beautiful and nothing you've done will make me change my mind." He dabbed her eyes and kissed her tears. She smiled tentatively; she knew he meant what he said and somehow his words and actions and the catharsis she had experienced by sharing her story with him had lifted the cloud which had hung over her since the first night of her marriage. Jack loved her and she loved him and if she wanted to show him just how much she loved him, she had to make love to him and more importantly, she had to want and enjoy their lovemaking. She had reached that point. "Jack, I love you more than anyone I have ever known and I know you love me. Forget what happened before; my body wants you. It wants you to make love to me." She put her arms around him and rubbed her body against his; happy to feel his immense manhood. "Fuck me Jack. I need you to fuck me." He pushed her gently down on the bed and started to play with her clit. "No Jack, you don't need to do that. Just fuck me." He slid on top of her and holding his cock in his hands, ran it along the length of her cunt and then back again until it was poised at its entrance. She shifted slightly and opened her legs. He pushed slowly, remembering the difficulties they had experienced the first time he had fucked her. Her cunt was tight but wet. In a second he was in, once again seeking its base. He started slowly, trying to distance his love-making from that of her husband. "Jack, it doesn't matter, you don't have to treat me with kid gloves. Just treat me like a lover." Released by her from his self-imposed restraints, he started to drive into her and for the first time, he could feel her responding. Slowly at first, she started to move her hips in time with his thrusts and as his pace increased, so did hers. For the first time since she'd left university she could feel herself responding. She wrapped her legs round his hips and her arms round his back and tried to pull him further into her. He kissed her and lifting up from her body played with her nipples, flipping them backwards and forwards with his middle finger and then leaning down and sucking them. She pulled him down to her, so that once again he was pressed against her body. She kissed him on the lips and then, as she started to come, she started to moan and talk dirty; using the words women say to their lovers as they near their climax. "That's it, Jack. Fuck me Jack. That's it ....... That's good. Go on....go on. Fuck, Jack I'm starting to come ... Jack fill me up... fill me up with your spunk....come in me....please. That's it ..... keep going ... oh God Jack, I'm coming ... come in me Jack ... come in me." She came, her stomach muscles contracting in time with the waves of her climax. For the first time in twenty-three years she'd come with a cock inside her and the cock belonged to the man she loved. Jack waited until he was sure she'd come and as soon as he was sure, he came. Not the overwhelming climax she'd experienced, but a climax tinged with relief. He had fucked her with the fear he would never be able to bring her to a climax by making love to her and his fears had been dispelled. She cried again; this time not for herself, but for both of them. She kissed him and snuggled against his body, feeling the last vestiges of his spunk leaking onto her leg. She didn't mind; she loved him, his cock and all the spunk he cared to generate. For an instant she thought about children, about being pregnant again, but dismissed the thought as fanciful, she knew pregnancy was a thing of the past. They made love again before they fell asleep and this time he wasn't worried about her reaction. His cock pounded her cunt driving against her cervix. It hurt, but it was a good hurt. As they came he bit down hard on her nipple; she yelled and dug her fingers in his back. They slept until well after dawn. When he awoke she wasn't in bed and he drifted back to sleep. He woke again when something prodded him in the stomach. Opening his eyes, he saw her lying at the end of the bed, naked, with a small dab of ice cream on her left tit, topped by a cherry. "You didn't have your cold dessert last night so I'm giving you a chance this morning. But you'd better hurry, it's cold and melting." He slid down the bed and ate the ice-cream and cherry in one mouthful. The nipple was erect, either from desire or the effects of the ice-cream. He bit it; she squealed and rubbed it. "Hmm; I think I made the right choice last night. The fifty-year old dessert is best." She thumped his arm and pouted as he laughed at her. She asked, "I'm going to have a bath; care to join me?" "Go ahead, I'll go down and make tea and bring it up." When he returned with the tea she was sitting on the edge of the bath with a man's safety razor in one hand and a lathered shaving brush in the other. "What are you doing? Shaving your legs?" She laughed. "Well; not quite my legs." He watched as she applied lather to her mound and started to shave. "Jenny taught me this. She didn't like hair in her mouth and didn't want to inflict it on others. It's a long time since I did it." He watched and as she shaved her cunt, he started to get excited. "Can I do that for you?" She thought for a moment and then gave her consent. "Yes, but be careful. I don't want it all shaved off. It makes me look like a little girl. Just make sure you get rid of it all around my clit and anywhere else you're going to put your mouth." She smiled; this was obviously a new experience to him but as very few women shaved their cunts, it wasn't unexpected. Perhaps it was only those who made love to other women. He shaved her carefully from her other hole to and then around her clit. When he had finished she examined his efforts and said, "Not bad ... for an amateur." He handed her the razor and watched as she used it to trim the sides of her bush and finish off the area around the clit. When she had finished she was left with an arrow-shaped wedge of pubic hair and a hairless cunt. Shaving Sophie had excited him and the reference to oral sex had inspired him. He knelt before her, reached for her cunt, pulled back the labia exposing her clit and started to lap it. The feeling was different, the area above her clit was smooth and he could run his tongue down and around her clit without having to lick her pubic hair. He started to play with her clit, alternatively licking it, flicking it with his tongue, pressing down on it and nipping it with his lips. She thought of Jenny and how Jenny had done the same to her and realised, while the sensations were similar, she was enjoying it more with Jack than she had with her lesbian lover. She'd liked Jenny, even loved her a little, but she really loved Jack and whatever Jenny had been, she wasn't a man and she hadn't got a cock and what she was going to need after he'd finished with her clit, was a cock. It took only three minutes for her to come; but the feeling was overwhelming; she bucked her hips, squeezed her tits and pulled on her nipples and as she came, held onto his head and tried to force her clit into his mouth. "God, Jack that was a come and a half." She shuddered again as the last remnant of her climax hit her. She grasped her tit and offered it to him. "Play with my breasts ... please." Jack stood up and looked down at her. He would play with her tits but not right now; he wanted to fuck her. He reached down and picked her up, his hands under her armpits. He grabbed her left nipple and led her back into her bedroom, laughing as she berated him. "I said play, Jack; you're hurting me - let go." She tried to pull away but he held on to the nipple; stretching it slightly in his grip. When they reached the bed he let go of it and laughed again. "I'm sorry darling, but I couldn't resist. You looked so vulnerable sitting there, your nipples all puffy and your juices dripping out of your cunt." It was a non-sequitur; but it was a partial explanation of the reason he'd wanted to grab her nipple and lead her by it. So far in their relationship he'd had to accommodate her and while he understood why, he had to change things, he needed to show her who was in charge, but he knew it was going to have to be a slow progression. Leading her by the nipple was the start and when he'd finished, she would know what was expected of her. They fucked. She was ready, her cunt was slick from her climax and the sensations she'd felt when he'd played with her coupled with memories of Jenny, had made her more ready than she had ever been. He was excited. He had overcome her frigidity more easily than he could ever have hoped, but now he needed to find what she would put up with, just how far he could push her. With Jane it had been easy as she had no history and no abusive, dead husband and once he had understood what she wanted, testing her limits had been made easier by the fact she had few inhibitions. He wasn't sure about Sophie; he needed to find out and he needed to be careful. He was much more in love with Sophie than he'd ever been with Jane and needed to tread the fine line between catering to his needs and the limits of hers. He kissed her and fucked her slowly; waiting for her response. When she grabbed him round his back, drew her legs around his and tried to increase the speed of their coupling, he knew she was ready. He increased his speed to match hers and continued to fuck her until her moans and laboured breathing told him it was time. He stopped and withdrew his cock, leaving her wondering what she'd done wrong. "It's all right. Let's do it doggy fashion." It was a gamble; but he knew that she'd enjoyed it when she'd fucked Jenny and Tom and he was sure she knew that he wasn't going to treat her like Iain. She looked at him, as if trying to guess at his motives, and then, without saying a word, rolled onto her stomach and presented her arse to him. He loved her and if he wanted to take her this way she wouldn't refuse him. He looked down at her; he knew now that her memories of her husband were no longer haunting her; she was assuming the role of a lover and she wanted to please him. The knowledge excited him and picking up her arse slightly so that she presented her cunt to him, he entered her. They fucked and from time to time, he slapped and stroked her arse. As she started to reach her climax she reached under herself and started to play with her clit; intent on complementing the action of his cock. When they came their fluids mixed and flooded her cunt. After he withdrew his cock he moved backwards and watched as their come dripped out of her cunt. He stuck his finger in her cunt; finger-fucked her once or twice and pulled it out coated with their come. Laughing, he stuck his finger in her mouth. She laughed in return as she licked it. He had taken step one in establishing the boundaries of their relationship; by the time he left for England he'd discovered her limits and, to his surprise, his. No Flying Tonight Ch. 10-12 No Flying Tonight Ch. 10-12 The bus pulled up two hundred yards from his house. Jane linked her arm in his as they walked along the footpath towards the house. When they reached the front gate, the front door opened and his mother ran out of the house and along the path towards them, closely followed by his aunt. "John you're here. I saw the bus go past and I hoped you'd be on it. How are you? Are you hungry? I bet you'd like a cup of tea." "Hold on there, mum. One question at a time. I'm all right, I'm hungry and I would like a cup of tea. How about you, Jane?" Jane nodded; it was an excuse to stay and she had a lot she wanted to say and do. When they got into the house the table was laid and the kettle already waiting on the stove. In less than five minutes his mother appeared from the kitchen with a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches. "I'm afraid it's not much, John. Rationing has got worse since you went to Canada." For the next twenty minutes they ate and talked about Canada, his voyage, the journey from Scotland and the reason for his aunt's presence. His description of Canada and his journey home had many of the characteristics of holiday reminiscences; Jack providing details of what he'd done and where he'd been with the others asking about the weather, the landscape and the boat journey, but most of the questions were directed towards Canada and Canadians. What were Canadians like? What were their houses like? Was there rationing? He answered them all, but was careful not to make any reference to Sophie. It was his mother who broached the subject of his aunt's presence. "John, I suppose you are wondering why your aunt is here. I don't think you know but your Uncle Ray was killed, just outside Tripoli, two weeks ago. She's come to stay with us. In fact she'll be staying for the foreseeable future as your dad has found a flat in High Wickham and I'm going to stay with him. Your aunt will be looking after the house." Jack's Uncle Ray had been a regular soldier in the Royal Tank Regiment. In 1940 he had been injured at the Battle of Arras when his under-powered, under-armoured and under-gunned Matilda had been hit by a shell from an 88mm anti-tank gun. His uncle had escaped, but his tank had brewed-up with two of his comrades trapped inside and he had been forced to watch and listen to their screams as they burnt to death. In early 1942 he had been sent to the Western Desert to join the 6th Armoured Division, a part of the 8th Army, and had participated in the defeat of Rommel at El Alamein. He had died outside Tripoli in one of the final battles of the North African campaign. Jack liked his aunt. She was his mother's younger sister who had been married to a career soldier. He hadn't seen her much as she had lived in the south for most of her married life and had only visited Shaw on rare occasions. When she had visited she had indulged Jack - probably because she had no children of her own -- taking him to Belle Vue to see the zoo and the circus. He was glad to see her again, but saddened by the circumstance. After they'd finished eating his mother got up, cleared the table, and then came back from the kitchen to announce she and his aunt were going to the vicarage for a meeting of the parochial church council and wouldn't be back until between ten and ten-thirty. As she left she eyed Jack, gave a hint of a smile, and said, "We'll see you later. I'm sure you won't miss us. After all this time you two must have a lot to talk about." As they walked down the front path Jane got up, slid over to him and sat on his knee. "Jack, I told you I'd missed you, but what I haven't told you is how much I missed this." As she finished speaking she reached down and grabbed his cock; he hadn't been expecting it and almost flinched at her touch. She reached for his fly, undid the buttons, with a more practiced ease than the first time she had done it, and reached into his underwear. She pushed them down with the back of her wrist; exposing his cock. It was almost erect. She bent her head and kissed it and then, teasingly, ran her tongue around and under the rim. It felt good and his cock responded; becoming fully erect. "Gosh, Jack, I'd forgotten how big this thing is." She returned to her task and kneeling on the carpet in front of him, took him into her mouth. He watched the top of her head bobbing up and down and heard the sucking sound as she sought to draw his seed from his balls and all he could think was, he was betraying Sophie. In the end it was his body which betrayed her. Jane was good, better than he remembered and after two to three minutes of her ministrations, he felt himself starting to come. He grabbed her head and started to face-fuck her. She relaxed her throat muscles and managed to swallow almost all of the monster. When he came he flooded her throat, causing her to gag slightly and move back until she had only the last two inches in her mouth. She continued to suck until he finished thrusting and she felt his legs tremble for the last time. She got up, wiped her mouth and with a laugh on her face, said, "Tastes good; it hasn't changed -- although I think I may have tasted a hint of maple syrup." He had sent her a bottle just before Christmas. She kissed him and said, "Jack, it's time you fucked me." Once again she had taken him by surprise. He had expected they would make love, but not this soon. "I'd love to, but what about my mum?" "What about her? You're not thinking about making love to her are you?" In the seven months he had been away she had become more worldly. Seven months ago she would never have said such a thing. "Don't be silly. But what if she comes back?" "Jack, she won't and even if she did, you're a grown man. She has to expect you are going to do the things grown men do." He knew he was trapped and yet, he had to admit, he wanted to fuck her. "All right, but we'd better be quick." They went up to his room. In fifteen seconds she had removed her clothes and was helping him remove his. "Come on Jack. Don't you fancy me? Don't you want to fuck me?" He did, sort of, but once again his erect cock was telling him it was something more than sort of. They started from where they'd left off, although there were subtle differences in their love-making. She noticed how he'd changed. Before he went to Canada he had engaged in foreplay but once they had started fucking he had concentrated on the matter in hand. Now he was paying more attention to her, stopping from time to time during their fucking to kiss her and to offer endearments. He didn't notice - probably because Sophie had done the same -- how, when he came, she used her cunt muscles to milk him, or how she had used profanity to urge him on; neither of which had happened before he went to Canada. During the next five days they made love eleven times and it would have been more if Jane had got her way. Sitting on the train on his way to the Heavy Conversion Unit, where he would learn to fly a four-engined bomber, and thinking about his leave, Jack had to admit he had enjoyed it. Jane was good in bed; she did everything he wanted and more. She had been as adventurous as always and on the third night she had suggested anal sex. Her friend had told her she had enjoyed it when her husband had 'stuck it in my arse' and, 'besides, you can't get pregnant'. Based on Sophie's experience with her husband he wanted to reject her out of hand, but the notion excited him. "I'm not sure. You might not like it." "Jack, you ought to know me by now. If I don't like it, I'll tell you." "Let me think about it." The next night he fucked her in the arse. It wasn't easy; for all her bravado she was scared, both of failure and pain. The previous evening she had left the lubricant her friend had given her and had provided him with clear instructions about what he must do. The thought of sticking a finger up her arse didn't appeal to him, but he'd had his instructions and if he was prepared to stick his cock there, why not his finger? They started as though they were going to make love conventionally. He played with her tits and clit while she sucked and stroked his cock. He stuck his cock in her cunt and was surprised to find how wet she was; if her arse was as wet as her cunt there would be no problem. She pointed to the night-stand and said, "Get the lubricant. All you've got to do is put some in me and some on your cock." She watched as he oiled his cock. It glistened, even in the dim light of the bedside-lamp. Satisfied, she turned over, got on her knees with her shoulders on the bed and presented her bum to him. For a moment he saw Sophie lying there, waiting to be violated by her husband and wanted to stop. "Come on Jack; make sure you put enough in me..... but, be careful." He took the bottle and poured some around and on her hole. He took his finger and coated it with oil and then, gently, inserted into her arse. She was tight; he could feel her sphincter resisting him. Gradually, as he worked his finger in and out, she started to relax and his finger sank further and further until it reached the second knuckle. He took his finger out, got her to hold her hole open and dribbled some oil directly into her arse. "Jack, that's bloody cold." It would be. It was winter; coal and coke were rationed and as there wasn't enough for the central heating, the bedroom was cold. He sat back on his heels, bent his knees and mounted her. He had fucked her and Sophie doggie fashion before, but this time the angle was slightly different, he had to bend over further to get his cock in. He rubbed the underside of his cock against her now slick hole and then, very slowly and very carefully, tried to enter her. Her arse was tight, tighter even than her cunt had been. She grimaced, but said nothing about the pain. "It's all right Jack, you can push a little harder." He pushed and felt his cock slip past her sphincter. He was in; not all the way but far enough in that he could start to fuck her. He fucked her slowly, waiting for her to complain. Underneath him she could feel her hole expanding as he thrust deeper into her. It hurt to start but as she got used to him, she started to experience the sensations her friend had described to her. She was becoming excited; partly from the effect of his cock and partly from the knowledge that what they were doing was almost illicit. She could feel he was becoming excited, his thrusts were harder and longer, and that she too was starting to become excited. She picked up her right hand, sought and found her clit, and started to fuck herself with her fingers. She stuck a finger in her cunt and could feel, through the lining of her cunt, his cock moving in her bum. She took her finger out and attacked her clit, rubbing it furiously as she sought to reach her climax. It didn't take long; she could feel him starting to come and not wanting to be disappointed, she rubbed harder and faster. They came; Jack first, his spunk squirting into her, flooding her bowels and she immediately after, rubbing her clit with one hand and with two fingers from the other in her cunt. He fucked her arse twice more; each time it was easier and, each time, more enjoyable. When he left to report to the Heavy Conversion Unit at RAF Wigsley she cried. She wasn't happy about him leaving, but most of all, she was worried he was about to became a bomber pilot. In spite of the secrecy about losses, the British people were aware bomber crews were suffering high casualty rates. She didn't want to be the girlfriend, fiancée or even the wife of a dead hero. At the most it got you a widow's pension, at the least - nothing. She had wanted to tell him about Simon, a naval lieutenant whom she'd met three months earlier at a dance in Bolton, but the last seven days had been wonderful, as memorable as the time they'd spent together just before he left for Canada. She had met Simon when she'd gone to a dance with a girlfriend and halfway through the night, had been asked for a dance by an officer in a Royal Navy uniform. They'd danced for most of the night and she had accepted his invitation for a drink the next evening. He was in Bolton, doing something at a factory which was manufacturing something for the Navy. He had been evasive about the specifics and she hadn't been that interested. What had interested her was what he did when he wasn't in Bolton and she had been pleased to find that Lieutenant Simon Henderson was twenty-five, based in Grimsby, with a shore job which had something to do with the minesweeper fleet -- it sounded like radio or something -- and the only danger he faced was from the sporadic air raids on the port. At first he had been almost proper, acting more like an escort than a boyfriend, and then, a month after they'd met, he invited her to Grimsby. She didn't know what to expect, but suspected he wasn't going to play the escort when he got her on his home ground. She was right. He had booked her a room at the Queen's Hotel and then taken her out to dinner. When they had finished dinner he had taken her back to the hotel for a drink and after plying her with drink he needn't have bought her, he took her up to her room and in his mind, had seduced her. She had enjoyed it, partially because she was slightly drunk, but also because she hadn't had sex for four months and was becoming tired of pleasuring herself. She had continued to go out with him; not because she loved him, but because he was fun, here and as long as he was shore-based, not likely to die. In comparison with Jack, there was the promise of a future with Simon; maybe not a forever future, but a future. There were occasions, after she and Simon had made love when she had feelings of guilt, both for betraying Jack and for making love to somebody she didn't love. Whenever she felt that way, she tried rationalise her actions. What Jack was doing was dangerous; eight hours of terror followed by five days of boredom with the chances of surviving a tour less than five per cent. On the other hand, unless he got posted, Simon was almost sure to survive the war. She loved Jack and how he made her feel when he was fucking her, but there was no future for them. When, three months later, she told him she was getting engaged to Simon, she sat and cried all evening.   No Flying Tonight Ch. 10-12 Leutnant Hans Schmidt was twenty-one and had been a member of his Jagdstaffel for two weeks. In that time he had taken-off six times in pursuit of allied bombers and had made contact on five occasions. Only once, on his third contact, had he been successful in shooting down his prey and, even then, he had been lucky as ground radar had been guiding him towards another target when he came across a Stirling, flying at fourteen thousand feet. He had fired only one burst into the aircraft when it caught fire. As he moved in to fire again, its bomb load exploded, the blast shaking his plane, showering it with pieces of metal and tossing it over two hundred metres into the air. This would be number two. In Z, Zulu rear gunner Andy Townsend was searching the sky. Like most Lancaster rear gunners, he had removed the Perspex from the front of his turret to improve the vision. A line of tracer interrupted his search. The first burst missed to starboard but the second was followed by the unmistakable sound of cannon shells hitting the 'plane. "Bandit. Corkscrew left, Skipper." Jack turned the Lancaster to port and into the advancing fighter. Another burst of tracer hit the Lancaster, making a pattern on the wing and setting the right inner engine on fire. They were losing the battle; even without further damage it would be difficult to get the Lancaster back to Langton on two engines. Jack feathered the engine while the flight-engineer activated the fire extinguisher in the wing. Another burst of tracer lit the sky, this time missing as the Lancaster corkscrewed to starboard. In the Ju88 Leutnant Schmidt was focussed on the Lancaster, trying to determine what the pilot would do next. So far the pilot had done well; corkscrewing and losing height, but the plane was slowing and it would only be a matter of time before his cannon shells would hit something vital. But the pilot wasn't the only one watching. In the rear turret of the Lancaster, Flight Sergeant Townsend was sweeping the sky, trying to locate the Junkers as it followed the Lancaster and looking to make his own kill. Then he saw it. The moon had been his enemy, but now it was his friend. The Junker's pilot had made a mistake and had allowed his plane to be silhouetted, briefly, against the moon. Townsend fired twice, the first burst missing to the right, the second striking the cockpit of the fighter. He saw the flashes as his .303 bullets hit the JU88 and then, without warning, the nose dipped and the fighter slipped sideways, dropping rapidly from his sight. In the fighter Leutnant Schmidt was dead; shot through the face and in a reversal of fate, his two other crewmen were trapped, unable to control the plunging fighter on its journey to earth. In the rear turret, for a second or two, Townsend was non-plussed. Why had the plane suddenly disappeared? There had been no explosion or fire and, yet, it had disappeared from sight and then it dawned on him; he had shot it down. "I think I got him, skipper. I think I got him." "All right Andy. Anybody else see anything?" "Nothing, skipper", from the mid-upper turret. "I'd need a periscope", from the wireless operator. The crew waited; hoping Andy was right. When the fighter didn't re-appear they relaxed. The realisation they'd escaped certain death temporarily lifting the tension. The flight engineer restored it. "Starboard inner's still on fire skipper." The extinguisher hadn't worked. Jack looked to his right. The engine was burning, the flames were being forced over the wing by the slipstream and, if he didn't do something, either the wing would fall off or, more likely, the fuel in the wing tanks would ignite. He pushed the joystick forward and put the plane into a dive. As the needle edged to 245 the flames disappeared. He pulled the stick back slowly; the technique he had used had been used many times before but as he was well aware, sometimes, as the plane slowed, the fire started again. The plane responded sluggishly, the nose rising slowly on its two engines before it levelled out. There were no flames. Both Jack and the fight engineer breathed an audible sigh of relief. For the next three hours Jack fought the controls in an effort to keep the plane on course and above ten thousand feet. By the time they cleared the Dutch coast he was exhausted, the plane was still over two hundred miles from the east coast of England and the altitude, eight thousand feet, was proving harder to maintain. By the time they crossed the north Norfolk coast they were at three thousand feet, the tanks were almost empty and the plane was shuddering violently from the vibration of the feathered engines. He had hoped to make it to Langton, but it was out of the question. "Jim, what's the closest airfield?" The navigator studied his map of the east coast. "Downham Market - it's about nineteen miles." "Davey, can you raise them?" "Will do, skipper." When they landed Jack said a silent prayer. He knew they had beaten the odds and could think of no other reason than the intervention of his maker. The next day they returned to Langton with Z, Zulu returning two weeks later, patched up, with two new engines and certified ready to fly. No Flying Tonight Ch. 13-14 No Flying Tonight Ch. 13-14 She continued to talk, trying to explain what she thought had caused the change in his uncle's behaviour and looking for sources other than his experiences at Dunkirk. "Maybe it's was me; perhaps my body didn't attract him anymore. I know my body isn't what it used to be. He used to love my breasts; he would play with them and suck the nipples for ages before we made love. I know they've become droopy, but what could he expect? It's just a matter of time. I know my bottom is larger than when I was a girl. Perhaps he couldn't bear making love to an old woman." Jack looked at her. It was true that her tits were not pert like Jane's and her bottom was on the large side, but she wasn't that old and her face was attractive. He stroked her hair again and she moved her head against his cock which, by now, was iron hard. He was sure she must have felt it. She moved her head again, rubbing slowly and almost deliberately down and then back along the length of his manhood. She lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes. She was no longer crying, although her eyes were still red and he could still see the marks of tears on her cheek. She smiled and said, "Well, it would appear somebody finds me attractive - even if it is my nephew." "You are attractive. It felt really good taking you out tonight. In fact I would have wanted to take you out even if you hadn't been my auntie." "I won't believe you until you repeat it in the cold light of day. And now I'm going to bed." He wanted to reply, to keep flirting with her, but knew her decision was final. "Good night...... Susan." She laughed. "Good night, Jack." No Flying Tonight Ch. 13-14 "Leave them Susan. You won't need them." She looked at him; her nephew was taking charge, telling her what to do. Could she accept that? She preceded him up the stairs, walking slowly; her bum, like Sophie's, swaying slightly and, to him, almost as sexily, from side to side. As she turned on to the landing her saw her in profile. Her tits did sag but, even after her loss of weight, were still much bigger than his mothers, Sophie's and Jane's. She walked past her room and started down the landing towards his bedroom. "Where are you going? You've gone past your bedroom." Once again he was testing her. She turned and came towards him, slightly concerned, but not enough to challenge him. If, for some reason, her nephew wanted to make love to her in his parents' bed, she was going to accept it. He reached the door first and opened it, letting her precede him into her room. It was just as he remembered it, except there was no trace of his parents. There were neither pyjamas or nightdress on the bed nor a hairbrush and cuff-link box on the dressing-table. He got onto the bed on the right hand side – his father's side - and patted the bed, motioning her to join him. Inured, by now, to his presumptiveness, she got onto the bed and sat, leaning forward in an almost childlike pose, her arms around her knees, her tits hanging down and away from her body. As he looked at her, it suddenly occurred to him how bizarre it was. Here he was, sitting on the bed with his aunt, both of them naked, on the cusp of fucking each other and, not once, had they discussed their relationship. It was as if incest had not crossed either of their minds. They were going to fuck and be fucked and it just as though it was any man fucking any woman. That they were aunt and nephew appeared to have no bearing on what they were going to do. He sat beside her, turned and, for the first time, kissed her on the lips. She had been waiting for him to kiss her, but the ardour with which he did it, took her by surprise. He crushed his lips to hers, as if he wanted to convey by the pressure of the kiss, what he felt for her. She responded; kissing him back and then, when she felt she was on the point of having to break their bond in order to breathe, he stopped and kissed her on the neck. He worked his way down her body; first kissing her tits and then the slight bulge in her belly which, when he kissed it she referred to, jokingly, as her middle-aged spread. As he approached her cunt she closed her legs. Nobody had ever kissed her there. He recognised her hesitation, but merely pried her legs apart and started to kiss her thighs. She liked the feel of him kissing her there; it was different, but it excited her. She could feel her cunt starting to fill, once again, with her juices and her nipples start to stiffen. He opened her legs further, revealing her cunt. The labia was dark, much darker than the pink of Jane or Sophie, but just as inviting - he couldn't understand what men had against dark cunts. He parted her nether lips and thrust his tongue into her cunt, making her gasp, and then worked it, gradually, along her labia until it reached her clit. She loved to play with herself, but this was a completely different sensation. She could use her fingers, but he was doing something she couldn't do, licking and sucking her labia and then clit; playing the latter with his tongue and, as it got bigger, sucking and then nipping it very gently with his lips. "Yes, Jack. Yes. Yes. Yes." He could feel her responding. He inserted two fingers; she was wet, really wet and he noticed, looser than either Sophie or Jane had been the first time he had fucked them. He continued to finger fuck her with one hand and play with her clit with the other until he felt her start to come. He wanted to watch her and so stopped playing with her clit, and watched her come. As she reached her climax, he watched as her stomach muscles tightened and then convulsed, not once but time and time again, while her thigh muscles contracted, squeezing her thighs together and trapping his hand. When she had finished she had lain there, her eyes closed; savouring the feeling. He had watched, willing her to open her eyes and thank him. "Jack, I can't describe what that was like. I'm not going to compare you with your uncle, but that was a sensation I've never experienced before." He quieted her by leaning over and kissing her and then, still kissing, he mounted her. As she felt his weight on her, she opened her legs and, by moving her bum, changed the angle of her cunt so it pointed slightly upwards. His cock searched for and found her entrance; he rubbed the tip around her labia and feeling no resistance, pushed and slid easily into a cunt which was wet and offered no resistance. She took him readily, almost greedily and, on the first thrust, he hit the bottom of her cunt and then stopped. She had closed her eyes. "Look at me Susan. Watch me closely. I'm going to make love to you. No, not the 'make love' type of make love, but the fuck type of make love." Although she knew and had used the word 'fuck' she wasn't sure if she liked hearing it from Jack. For some reason it sounded too impersonal and the sort of word men used to each other but not to their lovers. "I'm going to make you feel things you've never felt before and, when we've finished, you'll have forgotten uncle and his limp cock." It was the brain between his legs which was doing the talking and it wasn't being erudite. She gasped and then twisted under him; trying to clamp her legs together in an effort to push him out. "Jack, you may be making love to me but I won't have you disparaging your uncle. I'm sure it wasn't his fault." He realised he had offended her and apologised; worried, even at this juncture, she might reject him. "I'm sorry. Honestly auntie, I didn't mean it. I was totally wrong. I know uncle couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I just wasn't thinking. Please believe me." He sounded like a little boy asking for forgiveness. It was almost good enough and she would forgive him but, in the back of her mind, she understood his original words were an indication of how self-centred youth was. His uncle couldn't help it. Jack thought he was invincible but, one day, he may be faced with the same problem and how invincible would he feel then? He waited, hoping she would accept his apology; but she said nothing. Tentatively he started to fuck her again. Her cunt was warm, wet and inviting. Initially she didn't respond; as if punishing him for his insensitivity but then, gradually, she relaxed and before long he could feel her meeting his thrusts with those of her own. He heard her breath become laboured and then she put her legs around his and pulled him to her, as if she was trying to drive his cock in deeper. Then, abruptly, she stopped and said, "Turn over." Puzzled, he turned slowly, holding her so that his cock stayed in her cunt. Once she was on top she told him, "Don't move." He didn't. She sat up on her knees and started to make love to him; rubbing her cunt backwards and forwards in long lazy strokes, driving his cock into her cunt on the back stroke and rubbing her clit on his mound as she moved forward. It was working for both of them. He could feel the spunk starting to boil in his balls and could hear her breathing becoming more laboured. He slapped her bum, sufficiently hard to make her yelp. The slap seemed to spur her on as she raised her pace; her thrusts becoming longer and harder; her clit riding hard against his pubic bone. It was different and he was enjoying it. He had never had a woman who, in effect, had masturbated while fucking him; using his body to get herself off. When she came it amazed him. She shivered and drove her clit directly into his pubic bone and then stopped with her clit almost impaled on his mound. She clung on to him and shuddered and when her shuddering started to subside, slid very gently over his pubic hair, shivering continuously as his hair touched her come-sensitive clit. He liked it, but it wasn't right. He needed to be on top, it was he who should be doing the thrusting, it was he who should be setting the pace and most of all, it was he who should be in charge. Just over a year ago he had let Jane guide him and teach him about fucking, but since then, he hadn't needed a tutor. He knew what women liked and how to service them. He rolled from underneath her and picked her up. She was slightly shorter but much heavier than Sophie – once again he found himself comparing his middle-aged lovers – but easily flipped over. He laid her on her stomach and got behind her. She lay there waiting for him and when he didn't try to mount her, she turned and looked at him, a quizzical look on her face. Jack smiled - it was obvious she hadn't done it this way before. "Pick up your bum." She got onto her knees, raised her hips and presented her cunt to him. He looked at the light purple labia and noted her come glistening on the lips. He got on his knees, took his cock in his hand and slipped it into her cunt; he liked the angle but it wasn't quite right. He got onto his feet and bent his knees; his cock still embedded in her cunt. That was better, he felt as if in this position he could drive it through her cervix and into her womb. Once again they started to fuck and, unlike the previous occasion, it was he who was driving and she who was responding. He started to feel powerful; something he always did in this position; a position in which the woman was his supplicant and his plaything. He wanted her to come, to enjoy herself, but he wanted her to do it on his terms. He was starting to come; he could feel it in his balls. He thrust harder, waiting for her reaction as he drove his cock into her. He knew she must be feeling his cock as it rammed against the base of her cunt it, but she didn't flinch. He needed her to react and so grabbed her hair with his left hand, making it into a pony tail, and then pulled it; forcing her upwards until she was resting on her hands as well as her knees. He reached under her body with his right hand and twisted her nipple, but again she didn't react. He pinched her nipple again, using his thumb nail to apply pressure. Finally he got a response. She moaned and thrust harder. She was enjoying it. When they came it was in unison. He grunted; the sound of the dominant male animal; she whimpered and groaned; the sound of the subservient female taking what her master had to offer. He felt his spunk shoot out of his cock and mix with her juices; the two of them flooding her cunt and coating the entrance to her, barren, womb. As he dismounted he felt moisture dribbling down his leg. He looked down and saw a mixture of their come dribbling down his thigh and below her a huge wet stain on the sheet; far more than he had ever seen. He looked at her, wondering what had happened. She saw where he was looking and sought to re-assure him. "Don't worry, it happens to me sometimes and particularly when my climax is something special. Your uncle was shocked the first time I did it to him. Sometimes when I reach my climax, my love juices come out of me almost in a stream. Don't worry it's only a lubricant, just like any other woman, but with me, there's just more of it." Jack watched as she got up from the bed and went to the bathroom. When she returned, she was wearing a night-dress and smelled of soap and toothpaste. He was prepared to continue, but, it was clear, their love-making for the evening was at an end. No Flying Tonight Ch. 15-17 No Flying Tonight Ch. 15-17 "Hello, anyone home?" They looked at each other. She jumped out of bed and grabbed her night-dress which was lying on the chair where she had left it the night before. "Hello Sheila, just Auntie Susan and me. I think she's in the bathroom. I'm still in bed." "Lazy devil. It's after twelve. I'm coming up." He straightened the bed-clothes as best he could and put on his pyjama jacket. His sister bounced in to his bedroom, to be followed immediately by Jane, and stood at the end of the bed. "Where's auntie?" "I told you, she's in the bathroom. I think she's getting ready to go out." "Auntie, are you there?" "Yes, dear, I won't be a minute. I've just got to clean my teeth." His sister looked at him and wrinkled her nose. The room smelled of sex; when his aunt squirted it went everywhere and left the unmistakable odour of sex. "Who have you been entertaining? It can't be Jane as she's been with me." "Nobody, the only people here are auntie and me." She looked at him. She wasn't stupid; she had been fucking her boyfriend for almost a year and she knew the smell of sex. She sniffed and then laughed. "Oh, and I was sure you'd been a naughty boy." He didn't know what to say. The sound of the bathroom door opening saved him from further inquisition. "Oh, hello auntie; Jack says you're going out -- where are you going?" The question flustered her as she had just escaped, by the skin of her teeth, being caught in bed with her nephew and now she was being asked a question which could put her back in the mire. What had Jack told them? "Didn't Jack tell you?" There was no answer from her niece or Jane. Deciding she had to answer and, hoping Jack hadn't said anything, she took a chance. "Just into town; shopping. I saw Mrs. Henson earlier and she told me Anderson's have had a shipment of washing powder and you know how difficult it is to get any these days." It sounded reasonable, even to her. Sheila turned to Jack and with a quizzical, almost arch look on her face, said, "I'd better go and give you a chance to get up. I wouldn't want to embarrass you." Why had she added the last part of the sentence? Jack was now sure she suspected something. "Thanks; but why would I be embarrassed?" She looked at Jack, sniffed overtly once again, smiled and together with Jane, left the room. Jack lay in bed and thought about his close escape and then wondered why Jane was with his sister? Downstairs he could hear the three of them talking followed by the sound of the door shutting. His aunt must have left for town and, by the looks of it, on the twenty-five to one bus. He was sure his sister suspected something; after all if he could smell the evidence of sex in his bedroom and he had been surrounded by it, his sister, who had come in from the outside, couldn't have missed it. Still what could she do or, more pertinently, what would she do? Unless she was sure, probably nothing. The house went quiet; apparently his sister and Jane must have left. He thought about Jane. He hadn't loved her - at least not in the way he loved Sophie - but he did care for her and she was a good fuck. He knew his aunt would be available whenever he wanted her, but sometimes he would need a younger, tighter body, not only to fuck but to socialize with. He could fuck his aunt and take her to the pub, but he couldn't take her to meet his friends. It would certainly be easier to get back with Jane. She was good in bed, he enjoyed going out with her and, furthermore, he knew what he would get with Jane. He hadn't the time to pay court to someone else on the off-chance they would sleep with him. As he thought about Jane he remembered her body, particularly her nipples; remembered how she had fucked and sucked him and, as he did so, he started to become excited and his cock began to harden. He stroked his cock, playing with it as he thought about the first time he took her anally and the first time they'd sixty-nined. It didn't take long before he felt the tell-tale signs of his come rising in his balls; an indication it wouldn't be long before he came. As he had his eyes closed, he didn't hear the door open and didn't see his sister and Jane creep in. The click, when Sheila let go of the door knob, was the first indication anybody was in the room. He opened his eyes, saw them and froze; his erect cock in his hand. "Don't let us interrupt you. Carry on with what you were doing." They made no move to leave. Why hadn't they? What did they want? Did they really want him to continue? He looked at their faces. There was nothing which would tell him if they meant it or not. He stroked it once, then again. They laughed. It was his sister who spoke. "Don't look so guilty; it isn't as if you haven't done it before. I did live with you for eighteen years, don't forget, and not all your nocturnal habits escaped my notice. And from what I hear, Jane has helped you on a number of occasions." Jane nodded and smiled. "By the way it is impressive -- your cock that is -- it's certainly the biggest I've ever seen." She moved forward, as if to get a better look, and he dropped his hand to show her. She leaned forward and appeared to be reaching for his cock but, instead, extended her middle finger, wiped it on his thigh and put it in her mouth. "Spunk and something else. I knew you'd been up to something and, from the smell of it, it wasn't just wanking. I can't believe it; you and Auntie Susan have been up to something. I thought she had been a lot happier recently, and now I realise why. Jack, it's all right; I'm not upset. You can tell me. I know she's been unhappy." It sounded to Jack that she was more interested in hearing the details of the goings-on between him and his aunt than admonishing him. He decided to take the high road. "Sheila, even if there had been - and I'm not admitting to anything -- you don't expect I would tell you. You wouldn't have expected me to tell you what Jane and I had been doing, would you?" "You don't have to; Jane's told me everything. I know you two just about covered the whole of sex from A to Z. Jack, I'm impressed. Who'd have thought my baby brother would have become a sexual athlete of the highest order?" She was teasing him and he knew he would have to be careful as an intemperate reply was likely to condemn him. He needed to change the subject. "Sheila, would you give me some privacy?" "Why Jack; is once a morning not enough? You don't have to answer that; from the taste I just had and the smell in your room it's obvious which you have been fucking someone and, in the absence of another, viable, alternative that someone is obviously good old Auntie Susan. Well, well, well; what would the neighbours think? Or our parents, for that matter?" "Sheila, you can think what you like. I told you. I'm not admitting to anything." "It's all right Jack I'm not going to say anything. It's odd, but, if you and auntie want to fuck, it's up to you. I'm not going to criticise you, but just make sure you don't have any two headed babies." All the time his sister had been talking to Jack, Jane had been looking at his cock, which was gradually wilting and losing all its majesty. Jane spoke, "Jack, it looks like you're losing all your enthusiasm." He looked at his cock. It was true, it had declined to half-mast and was showing symptoms of total collapse. "Poor old Jack; your sister and I don't turn you on? Perhaps you need someone more mature - or even foreign?" So she knew about Sophie; but she could only have guessed. He had mentioned Sophie twice in his letters to her and had made no reference to a romantic entanglement. "He doesn't," his sister interjected, "what Jack needs is to concentrate on women his own age." Was she offering herself to him? Jack thought about his sister; he had only caught glimpses of her body but, from what he had seen, she was a younger, slightly slimmer version of his aunt. Her tits were smaller and, while they could not be described as pert, it looked like they didn't need a lot of support. It was the package which was attractive; she looked like a woman. Not fat, with pendulous tits like Angela or thin with egg-cup sized tits like Jane, but a woman like Sophie and his aunt; full breasted and with child-bearing hips. "You may not have noticed, but at the moment, there aren't any readily available. Jane's here, but is spoken for, and since I've got to go back tomorrow, I don't think that gives me enough time to meet anyone, let alone seduce them." Two could play that game. If his sister or Jane wanted to flirt, he could too. His sister laughed and turned to Jane. "Well I'm not available. I'm going. I'll leave you two to it." Jane laughed and watched as his sister left the room. "It appears, other than your aunt, that I must be the only one who's available. It's all right Jack, I'm not going to seduce you, but I wouldn't mind re-acquainting myself with the monster." It took her five seconds to pump him to full mast and when it got there, she stopped and admired it once again. "I bet you've had no complaints about the size but how about the performance? Actually you don't need to answer that; from what I remember once I'd got you trained, you performed with consummate skill." What was he - a performing seal? "Why don't you stop talking and get on with it - or are you all talk?" She looked at him and smiled. If it was action he wanted, she could provide it. She dropped her head, took his cock in her mouth, sucked twice and stopped. "Your sister was right. I can taste a woman. You've been fucking someone.... and recently." How could she recognise it was a woman, he wanted to ask her, but he was more interested in being sucked-off. "If you're going to play with my cock, then the least you can do is show me your tits." She looked at him, as if assessing his request, and then smiled. "If you want to see them, you've got to undress me yourself." What an invitation. He reached up and undid her blouse; exposing a slip and bra. He pulled the slip off her shoulder and undid the bra; her tits were just as he remembered; even slightly larger, and still tipped with enormously long nipples. He reached for her nipple with his mouth and sucked. "Stop that Jack -- maybe later." Promises, promises. Would there be a later? She returned to his cock; licking the shaft and then snuggling down and licking and sucking his balls. It felt good; he loved it when a woman sucked his balls. She took him in her mouth and sucked him. She was good, even better than he remembered in that, somehow, she had learned to swallow even more of his cock, almost to the point where her mouth was touching his mound and when she played him with her tongue, the experience was exquisite. She licked, almost tickled the head and, every time she did, his cock reacted; springing to attention. When she sensed he was starting to come, she stopped licking and took him in her mouth; sucking so hard it almost felt as if he had a vacuum cleaner attached to his cock. When he came she was amazed by both the amount and force of his ejaculation which flooded her mouth, causing her to gag slightly. As he finished thrusting she opened her mouth, showed him his spunk, swallowed it with an exaggerated gulp, and smiled at him. "Wow, Jack, what a load of spunk. Did I turn you on that much?" "You did. I wouldn't mind returning the favour." Jane was tempted. Jack was a good lover, much better than Simon, and she had been excited by sucking him off. But fucking him would be complicated. She had got him out of her system and was in danger of drifting back. She had rationalised why she had given him up and to start fucking him again would be irrational and, besides, he was already fucking his aunt. "I'm sorry, Jack. I want to but I can't. Take it as a parting gift." He hadn't seen Jane, his sister or aunt since that leave, but he was due leave when his tour ended; maybe he could fuck Jane or, maybe, like Sophie, Jenny and Tom, a threesome; but in which combination; which two of his sister, his aunt and Jane? No Flying Tonight Ch. 15-17 "I've booked a call to Canada, in the name of Lindsey." There was a pause followed by the voice of the operator. "Your line is available Mr. Lindsey; where did you want to call in Canada?" "Hamilton, Ontario. I'd like to call Hamilton 1417 and operator, I'd like to reverse the charges." He listened while the operator talked to three other operators, one with an English accent, the other two Canadian. After fifteen seconds of silence, he heard the telephone ring. It rang five times before someone picked it up. "Hamilton 1417, Sophie McLeod speaking." It was her voice; a voice he hadn't heard in over a year. "Will you accept a call from England; from a Mr. Lindsey, a Mr. Jack Lindsey?" He heard her gasp, then a pause and finally, "Yes operator, I will. Jack ....is that you?" He heard the catch in her voice. "Yes Sophie, it is." Before he could get another word in she started. "Jack why haven't you written to me? I wrote to you twice and you didn't reply. I waited and waited, but nothing came. I missed you Jack, a lot more than you will ever know. I know we said it was over and there was no future for us. Logically I knew it was right, but you have to understand; I didn't want it to be over. When you left there was a hole in my life and I haven't been able to fill it. I've thought about you every day. I read the newspapers every day. I didn't know whether you were alive or dead. Every bombing raid I've read about I've worried you'd been on it and weren't coming back. I.. " He needed to stop her as he needed to talk to her. "Steady Sophie; take it easy. Let's start at the beginning." "I'm sorry Jack, but it's been over a year and a lot has happened. I can't help it." I understand, but first things first - why did you leave it up to Andrew to try to find me?" "Jack, when you didn't reply to my letters I thought that you didn't want me and if you didn't, then I didn't want hound you and make you feel sorry for me. As to Andrew; I didn't ask him to find you. All I can think is that he found you through Daniel Backhouse; a friend of Iain's who's a high-up in Bomber Command. But it doesn't matter how he found you -- just that he did. I can't believe it; I can't believe you're alive and I'm talking to you. If.." "But what about my son - our son?" Jack's interjection halted her flow. He waited for her to reply and when she did her voice was tender and almost a whisper. "Jack he's beautiful. I wish you could see him. He's perfect. He's got brown eyes and fair hair and he looks just like you." "But why didn't you tell me? I thought you couldn't have any more children." "Jack, I would have, but I didn't realise I was pregnant until it was too late. When I told you my periods had stopped, I wasn't being totally truthful. From time to time I was bleeding slightly but I didn't think anything of it. When you left I hadn't had any kind of period for three months. When it didn't happen for the next two months it didn't bother me, even though I'd already started having what turned out to be morning sickness. I should have known what it was; it happened the other times I was pregnant, but I was in denial. I couldn't believe I was pregnant. I was too old to have children. In the end I went to Toronto to see a female doctor whom I knew from university and she confirmed it. I waited a month and then wrote to you. When you didn't reply, I wrote again." "I didn't get your letters. Andrew told me you'd written to me at the HCU. Why didn't you write to me at home?" "I didn't know what you'd told your parents and I didn't want to get you into trouble." She was pregnant, he was the father and she didn't want to get him into trouble. "Sophie I can't say much other than I still love you, I've never stopped loving you and I love our son. When I finish my tour I'm hoping to get an instructor posting in Canada. It should finish this week and it will probably take a couple of months to sort out the posting, but I will make it to Canada and even if I don't get the posting, this war can't go on forever." He wanted to carry on talking to her, but he had said everything he could say about the future. "Sophie, I love you. What have you called our son?" "John, and this time it will be John and not Jack. I haven't had him christened. I was waiting to hear from you. We'll do it as soon as you can get here." "We will, but not before we're married." "Is that a proposal?" "It is." "Then the answer is; yes." "Thank you, Sophie. I wanted to ask you before I left Canada but I couldn't see a future for us. I didn't think I would ever hear from you again. Sophie, you can't imagine how happy I am, how happy I am to hear about John and how much I've missed you." He wanted to keep on talking, but knew how expensive the collect call was. "Sophie, I've got to go. I love you." "I love you, Jack. Please call me any time you want -- collect - I just want to hear your voice again." Her voice started to break. "Goodbye Jack and good luck. Take care of yourself. I love you." "Goodbye Sophie; give John my love and a kiss from me." He put down the telephone and turned to face Andrew. "I love your mother." "I know." As he walked back to his quarters he remembered his promise to see her again. This was the second time he had broken the unwritten rule and tempted fate and he didn't like it. I just hope it's not the Big City, he thought. No Flying Tonight Ch. 18-19 Chapter 18 The better weather promised by the Met. Office arrived the next morning; Friday the 24th of March, 1944. The brass at High Wickham went over their strategic targets and selected one; Berlin. It was to be the last major raid on the German capital. The invasion of Europe was imminent and targets were changing from strategic to tactical and from Germany to France. The crews didn't like Berlin. The flight there and back took at least seven hours, unlike the two or three hours to northern France, and for most of the time they were subject to anti-aircraft fire or pursuit by German night-fighters and, while these dangers were accepted as the normal course of war, it was the risk of death posed by their own bomber stream, including collision with, being bombed by or being shot at by their own side, which they found difficult to accept. Jack's father looked at the orders. He knew his son was on his last mission and that his squadron was part of the night's bomber force. He had hoped Jack would complete his tour with a couple of easy half-mission targets, such as a 'gardening' operation, dropping mines off the coast of Denmark or Holland or a tactical target in northern France. He wished he could have changed the target; but even that wouldn't have helped much. The skies of Europe were dangerous whatever the destination and, whatever people thought, there were no milk runs. At Langton the day started at dawn. Even those not privy to the plans of the RAF brass knew the weather was going to be good and in all probability, it would mean the squadron would be flying. The planes scheduled to fly were sitting on their pads, being worked on by their mechanics. Jack's plane was being prepared by a ground crew led by Sergeant Al Findlay; a taciturn Scot who had an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the mechanics of aeroplanes and in particular, the Lancaster. Armourers were preparing bombs; four thousand pound cookies for the lead planes and smaller bombs and incendiaries for those trailing them; the cookies to blast open the buildings and the incendiaries to set fire to them. The mandatory flight test was brief as there had been a problem with a generator, but the ground crew had managed to locate the fault and repair it. When they landed, Jack toured the plane with the flight engineer; he couldn't understand those who waited until just before take-off when they were distracted by the immediacy of the mission. The afternoon was spent on individual briefings with the navigators, flight engineers and wireless operators receiving specialised details of the route, petrol loadings and call signs. At five the crew ate their evening meal; a ration-breaking fry-up featuring bacon, eggs and beans – some crews referred to it as 'the last supper'. At six o'clock all the crews gathered in the briefing room with both the C.O. and the Wing-Commander in attendance. The intelligence officer entered the room and took down the cloth, which was covering a map of the western part of Europe on which red ribbons dog-legged to Berlin. Among the veteran crews a few groans were heard. They had been to Berlin, some far more often than they cared to remember, and there was nothing good about it. The instructions were lengthy. There was going to be a feint raid on Kiel using Mosquitoes – lucky them, at over 400 knots in level flight they could outrace even the quickest German night-fighters – and another, into France, in an effort to convince German controllers that a site in southern Germany was the target. The main force was to head east; cross over Denmark and, over the Baltic, turn south-east and head for Berlin. The weather forecast for the raid was reasonably good, with winds of seventy-five mile per hour the only problem expected. There was to be variable cloud for both the inward and outward journeys and over the target and a quarter moon. The lack of moon and the partial cloud cover would cause them to rely on the Pathfinder force in locating their target, but would provide some protection from the night-fighters. Jack took-off immediately after the Wing-Commander's plane and headed for the collection point over the Norfolk Coast. There were 811 planes heading for Berlin and it was well over an hour before the last one joined the stream. The journey over the North Sea was uneventful, although the experienced crews knew it was only the lull before the storm. They knew the Luftwaffe had been tracking them since the first plane took to the air and, even now, radar operators were relaying information to night-fighter stations. It wouldn't be long; once they cleared the flak barrier they would be fair game for the enemy fighters. In Z, Zulu the crew worked methodically, with most of the pressure falling on the navigator. Winds speeds were higher than forecast, reaching over one hundred miles per hour and making route plotting almost impossible. The plane was equipped with H2S which, in theory, provided a map-like outline of the ground below but, in practice, while useful when flying over contrasting topography – it had readily identified the Danish coast - its electronic pulses attracted night-fighters. Flak had been as hostile as usual and as they crossed the Danish coast they saw their first casualty when, immediately above them and to port, they saw a flash of light as a bomber burst into flames and watched as it spun out of control and headed downwards. Nobody would escape; centrifugal force would pin the crew down and they would have to wait - terrified - for the sixty or so seconds it took the plane to descend from almost four miles up. From that point on they watched as nine planes burst into flame or exploded around them. They saw parachutes deploy from two of them, but most either exploded or spun into the ground; offering the crew little chance for survival. They reached the turning point just before eleven and headed south-east. As they crossed the Baltic the flak disappeared; it was quiet but they knew the fighters were waiting. They reached the outskirts of Berlin just as the Pathfinders dropped their flares. The aiming point was marked by a green flare, which, hopefully, was located directly on top of the marshalling yards. As he began his run-in Jack could see the bombing was creeping back as crews anxious to bomb and leave were dropping their bombs west and north of the aiming point. It didn't matter much as the chances of hitting the marshalling yards were poor, whereas the chances of hitting Berlin were good. To Bomber Command the strategic bombing campaign was as much about destroying the morale of the civilian workforce as it was hitting specific targets. But the bombing was working; in the major cities the German people were becoming despondent and the German military machine was slowly being strangled. "Left skipper.... that's it.... steady." In the nose of the plane the bomb-aimer was lying face down watching Berlin pass below him. "Five seconds Skipper... steady.... steady ..... bombs gone." The massive plane leapt in the air as its four ton cargo dropped into the night. For thirty-five seconds Jack held the plane on course until the photo-flash went off, signalling the end of the bombing run. It was 12.01 a.m. DDST – Double Daylight Saving Time. At 12.07 a.m. the radar operator of a He219 picked up an echo from an allied bomber. "Tommi, 3,000 metres above and to the left." The pilot banked and climbed, searching the night sky for the enemy. At 12.10 a.m. the radar operator made visual contact. "Lancaster, 400 metres to the left and 200 metres above us." Three seconds later the rear gunner in Lancaster Z, Zulu saw a twin-engined fighter outlined against the fires of Berlin. "Bandit, Skipper. Cork-screw right." Chapter 19 In the Queen's Hotel, Grimsby, Jane Grey was lying face down, with her thighs on either side of Lieutenant Simon Henderson's shoulders, her nipples brushing his stomach and her mouth teasing the last drops of spunk from his cock. As she sucked, her thoughts turned to Jack and how much more exciting their love-making had been. In Lancashire, Flight Lieutenant John Lindsey's aunt was in bed, dreaming fitfully, playing with herself and mewling, softly, in her sleep as she recalled the last time her nephew had made love to her. In Hamilton, Sophie McLeod was sitting in a chair, nursing her son. As she watched him she thought of her lover, remembering vividly the last time he had suckled at her breast and the night, she was sure, he had made her pregnant. No Flying Tonight Ch. 20