The funeral was over and we had scattered mom’s ashes to the four winds, per her last wishes. She had lived 89 adventurous years, the last 30 as a widow. We had retired to her house, now our house to do with as we pleased, to divide up her personal belongings. There were five of us kids, if you can call 50 to 65 year old siblings kids, and we had made short work of it. My two brothers and two sisters were gone, having taken what they could with them. I was sitting in moms kitchen with my wife, poring over an ammo box full of personal effects and letters that my parents had written each other during their early married years. Most of them written while dad was overseas fighting the Germans and mom was home with me, a just off the breast two year old brat.

I vaguely remember being babysat by my grandmother while mom went to work at the local truck plant, taking dads place on the assembly line. Mom was a very headstrong woman, who ran the household with something of an iron grip, both before dad came home, and after. She taught us all to think for ourselves, go after the things we wanted, be tolerant of others beliefs and opinions, be polite, and, most important of all, don’t take a lot of shit from anyone!

As headstrong as she was, I was still surprised at what I was reading. It started off with the expected stuff, like ‘I miss you so much darling and can’t wait for you to come home.’ Then it started getting more and more graphic. Reading this made me feel like a voyeur, much of this obviously not meant to be seen by anyone other than my folks. I just couldn’t bring myself to put them down. It was almost like a soap opera, but with way more sex than TV allows.

I picked up one dated December 20 th 1942 and began to read it.

Dear Dot,

By the time you get this, Christmas will be long gone, but I hope the spirit of the season will not be. I am consumed with guilt! I went into the local village. A place called

XXXXXXXX. near our training base. Got a little soused at the Pub, flirted with a local girl, who was also a little tipsy. Before I knew it we were at her flat and she and I , well, we ended up in bed. I don’t remember what, if anything I did. I was way too drunk! I don’t even know her name!

I’m so very, very sorry! If I hadn’t drunk so much, maybe I could have stopped! Can you forgive me?

I do love you sweetheart,

Jack

I was stunned! My father had cheated on mom! He was such a quiet man. Unassuming. Docile. I never, in a million years would have thought him capable of such a thing. I showed the letter to my wife Carol, who’s only comment was, “War does strange things, dear. Were you able to resist the temptations of the flesh in Saigon or Tokyo, when you were in the service?”

“That was different! We weren’t married.” I snapped back, not sure if I was royally pissed at my old man, or just disappointed.

Carol replied, “Was it? Really?” and then dropped the conversation, returning to her work in the kitchen, and I went on to the next letter, this one from Mom to Dad in response.

Dear Jack,

January 30 th , 1942

When I read your letter, I cried. For me. For you. I have tried to forgive, but, I’m not there yet! Many of my co-workers at the plant think I should drop you like a hot rock, letting you shack up with your nameless female stranger. Others have urged me to forgive you. ‘There’s a war that needs to be won.’ ‘After all, you were drunk and this hussy took advantage of you.’ I’m going to have to think about it.

February 1 st , 1942

One of my co-workers, Jane was over for coffee this morning. We talked a lot! I mean A LOT. About you. About me. About us. She has convinced me that it is easy to lose yourself in the moment. How do I know you’ll survive? When you get home, will you still want me? And what about me? My urges. Not a night goes by that I don’t long for your tender touch. On a couple of occasions I’ve even found myself lying in bed thinking of you, only to discover that I’ve touched myself. Put my finger inside. Am I allowed to do that, since you caved in to your baser instincts? Am I allowed to go farther?

February 2 nd , 1942

Jane came by again today. We talked a lot more. I’ve come to the conclusion that if you can play, I can play. So go ahead. And when the war is over and you come home, hopefully, your wild oats will have been depleted, and mine also. I will take you back under one condition. You will tell me, in lurid detail, about each and every time you fuck. That’s right! I said fuck! I’ve learned a whole new language since I started working at the truck plant. I know you know all those dirty words, and quite frankly, they turn me on. To be fair, I will do the same for you. It may take me some time, but I will do it.

February 3 rd , 1942

In keeping with my pledge, I’m going to tell you about Jane and I. She works next to me on the truck line. She is single, never married, tall, almost black hair, nice bust. And, boy can she kiss! Last night after putting Tommy to bed, she and I sat on the divan with a couple of beers. We got to talking some more and drinking some more. She advised me to let you do your thing and me do mine and approved of yesterday’s entry. Then she surprised me with a kiss. Tentative, soft, and gentle at first. It felt nice, our lips brushing together. It didn’t put me off at all! So, when her tongue separated my lips and began grazing my teeth, I responded in kind. She held my head in her hands as our tongues fenced, back and forth, first in my mouth, then in hers. I felt a tingle down there, and some wetness too, kind of like when you play with me. It seemed only natural to continue. Her hands slid from my face to my breasts as we continued to kiss. Unbuttoning my blouse, she continued to kiss and caress. My lips, my chin, my neck. Before I knew it my bra was on the floor and Jane was feeding at my breast.

God, it felt so good! And at the same time so nasty and depraved. If I’m going to do this, shouldn’t it be with a guy? Maybe a total stranger? Like you did? But I didn’t have time to think about it. Jane bared her chest and led my face to the fullness of her breast, urging me to suckle on it like a baby. It felt so good Jack! Her fingers dancing on my breasts, plucking my nipples, making them hard with need, as I lavished kisses on hers, feeling them stiffen under my touch.

One thing led to another and by morning she had taught me how to get her wet, using my fingers and my tongue. She tasted so good! And she did the same to me. It felt so intense! Like nothing I’ve ever felt before! And afterwards, we kissed again, tasting each others juices.

Now that I’ve bared my body to Jane, and my soul to you, I expect you to do the same. Leave no detail out! If you want to keep me, write back.

Your loving wife,

Dot

This was absolutely incredible! First, my dad cheats on my mom, then mom cheats on dad! And with a woman! I couldn’t wait to read the next letter!

March 19 th , 1942

Dear Dot,

I’m surprised at your openness and will try to reciprocate.

But, before I get to my adventures, I’ve got to know! Have you given up men? Is this friend Jane a lesbian? Do I still have a chance?

Like I told you in my first letter, I remember nothing about that night, but a month or so ago at the same pub, there she was. She’s average height, I guess. About 5’6”, well built, a little chunky, but very pretty. She has auburn colored hair that she wears up in a bob under her uniform hat. Her name is Winifred. She works for the Royal Navy as a Wren. That’s Brit for Women’s Royal Naval Reserve. Her husband was captured by the Germans at Dunkirk. As it turns out she was, indeed, out looking for a man to take home that night. We have met a few times since and I have stayed overnight at her place.

She seemed happy to see me and we grabbed a booth in the corner and chatted a while, before she invited me up to her flat again. This time, I’d only had a pint of beer and was reasonably sober, so I shall recount what we did.

When we arrived, I sat down next to her on her divan. She sat next to me, loosening my tie before planting a wet kiss on my ready and willing lips. Her tongue explored my mouth and she rubbed her clothed but ample breasts against my chest. I asked her what she remembered about our first night. She said she didn’t remember much. She just needed a man to ‘scratch an itch’ as she called it. After unbuttoning my shirt, she helped me out of it, kissing my chest as she attacked my uniform trousers, practically yanking them off me. There I sat boxer’s tented, her fingers fishing my stiffening prick from my shorts.

“Ooh! A nice, big one!” she said in that delightful English accent, before kissing the head, smearing the clear liquid that had formed at my piss slit. She licked at it like a popsicle. Long strokes with her tongue starting at my balls and working her way upward until she popped the head into her mouth with a long sensuous moan.

Almost involuntarily I jerked my hips upward as I watched her ovalled lips stretch around me. She gagged, pulled off, and looking at me sternly, said, “You naughty, naughty boy! If you want more, just ask! Don’t take!” She returned to kissing and sucking on my cock as I sat their, trying not to do anything to make her stop. I reached down cupping her breasts, feeling the soft flesh give way as I squeezed them through her blouse. I don’t quite know how she did it, but, in a flash, she had taken off her blouse and bra without interrupting her attention to my cock. As her head bobbed up and down on my pole, her freckled breasts jiggled, making me twitch in her mouth.

“Shall we head to the bedroom?” she asked, taking my hand and leading me there without waiting for an answer. Sitting me on the bed, she continued to strip. First, her uniform skirt, her slip, and her girdle. Then she put a foot up on the bed, between my legs, her toes nestled against my erection. Peeling off the stocking while caressing my cock with her foot. It made me moan. She smiled as she repeated the process with her other foot. Then she stepped forward, pulling my head down to her white cotton panties. As my face got closer, I could see a damp spot where her panties disappeared between her legs. I could also smell the delicious scent of her sex. Her ‘cunny’ as she called it. “Do you like it?” she asked. I nodded my head at the same time that she pulled me into the dampness. “Do you want to taste it?” she asked. Again I nodded my head, this time my nose pressed into her panty clad folds.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she spread her legs. I knelt down in front of her, gazing longingly at the damp patch that extended from the front of her panties all the way down to her ass. Grabbing the cotton fabric with my teeth, I dragged them off her hips, exposing a bright orange bush, matted with her musky juices. Pressing my face into the softness of her cunny, breathing in the heady musk, I extended my tongue tasting her, if not for the first time, at least the first time that I remembered. I thought of your flavor, equally as delicious but very different. I sunk my tongue into the soft folds of her reveling in her warmth and wetness. She moaned as she grabbed the back of my head, pulling me in deeper, her bush tickling my nose. Her moans became louder as I ravenously licked and sucked on the succulent flesh of her juicy cunt. Suddenly, she went rigid on me, her thighs locking my head in place as she moaned and panted, washing my face with a gush of her delicious essence.

After a minute or so, her thighs unclamped and she pulled my wet face to hers and we kissed, giving her a chance to taste herself. Whispering into my mouth, she said, “Fuck me, yank! Fuck me now!”

Hungry to feel her surround me, I stood, poised to plunder her. “I don’t have any rubbers!” I said.

“You don’t need one.” she answered, “Just fuck me!’

Lowering myself on the bed, my cock nestled in the meaty crevice of her sex, I gave her a long , wet, kiss as I eased my length inside, parting her lips, my cock caressing the walls of her young womb.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, locking by the small of my back, kicking slightly, urging me deeper into the wet velvet warmth of her cunt. I started out slow and easy, long, deep strokes, pulling my honey soaked shaft nearly out before sliding back in, lured by the inviting softness of her interior.

Her little kicks increased in intensity. “Harder! Faster!” she said, between urgent kisses. I could hear my cock as it forced its way inside, my balls slapping against the swollen lips of her pussy.

Lifting myself up, I looked between us, my cock churning her honey to a froth that ringed the base of my cock. I looked at her face, her eyes tightly shut, her mouth tense. Lowering my head to her left breast, I sucked her nipple into my mouth, my teeth grazing the tender but stiff nub. “Oh fuck, Jack! Don’t stop!” she wailed as I pulled on her nipple with my teeth.

I could feel her cunt begin to pulse, demanding silently that I cum inside her. Her hands were raking across my back as I plunged deep and hard feeling my own orgasm building quickly. Between staccato moans she begged me to cum inside her.

I did. I poured copious amounts of sperm deep into her fertile young womb, thrusting deeply, wanting all my essence to coat the walls of her demanding cunt. Then I collapsed on top of her, both of us panting wildly.

Slowly her iron grip let up, her hands rolling to her sides, her legs unlocking, opening up to let my shriveling cock slip out from its new found home. “Thank you Jack! I needed that!” she whispered.

“But, Winnie, what if you get pregnant?” I asked, my had resting on the soft pillows of her breasts.

“Then my husband will deal with it.” she answered. “But, no matter what, you will not wear a rubber while fucking me. Do you understand Jack?”

I nodded, too tired to even think of arguing, even if I wanted to.

I hope this is what you wanted Dot. I will write again as soon as I have more to tell.

Love,

Jack

(To be Continued)