It Happens in War Time

A London Suburb. August 1940.

The Germans were bombing hell out of us -- or should it be into us? I was eighteen and was awaiting my call up into one of the armed services; in the meantime I was working as a messenger for the Civil Defence.

There was just me and mum because my dad was with the Royal Engineers in the West Country where they were laying beach mines and building defences against the anticipated invasion.

Mum was understandably scared of the air raids, and it was made worse because that was when I had to go on duty and she was on her own.

I think she must have written to my father about how she felt because we got a letter from him, telling us we were to join him where he was stationed, and that he'd got a cottage for us.

Some quick packing and next day we were at Paddington station getting on board the West bound train. An air battle was going on overhead, and as the train pulled out bombs fell close by. As the train crept out through the suburbs we passed several anti-aircraft gun sites that were blasting away.

The train was jam packed with servicemen in transit and civilians trying to get out of London. We couldn't find seats so we sat on our suitcases in the corridor all the way to Plymouth where a lot of people got off -- that was before the place got bombed to rubble. After that we got seats.

Some time later the train pulled into the station of a minor railway junction. Dad was there to meet us and there was lots of hugging and kissing by mum and dad.

* * * * * * * *

The cottage belonged to a widow who had moved elsewhere; it was a two up two down affair, that is, downstairs there was what was called the living room and a scullery. The latter had a sink with a cold water tap, a bath that had a wooden cover over it, and a gas stove. If you wanted a bath you had to boil the water on the gas stove. The toilet was in a ramshackle shed at the back of the cottage.

Upstairs was reached by a mongrel cross between proper stairs and a ladder, and consisted of a front bedroom that was almost filled with a double bed, and behind a small bedroom with a creaking single bed; this was to be my room.

There was no electricity and only a single gas mantle in the living room; all other lighting was by candle.

As the soldiers in my father's unit were all billeted out on civilians, dad was able to live with us. This made mum and dad very happy, and in bed at night I could hear them making each other happy.

The village had a small harbour and in the wartime emergency a boat building yard had been added where they were building Motor Torpedo Boats (MTBs). Dad had arranged for me to work in the yard until, as he said, "You're called up."

During the time we spent in the village only once did bombs drop nearby in a field. It must have been a German bomber that had lost its way and jettisoned its load, but a couple of months after we arrived, and looking east at night, we could see Plymouth being bombed and on fire.

* * * * * * * *

We had arrived towards the end of summer and as we got into autumn the work of my father's unit came to an end, and they were due to be transferred elsewhere.

I can remember very early one misty autumn morning my father's unit parading, and then marching off to the railway station to begin their journey, leaving behind some weeping women, my mother among them.

I had little time to comfort her since I had to get to work. We were working a twelve hour day as we struggled to build the MTBs and get them into service. They would have liked to work a nightshift, but the necessary illumination would have attracted enemy bombers, so we only had a single daylight shift.

As winter approached I got my call up papers. This was what I had been waiting for. Like a lot of young guys at that time, I had visions of the heroic deeds I would perform, hopefully as a soldier; but it was not to be.

When I told the yard manager that I would be leaving he said, "No you won't my lad, you're working here under an essential works order, and you'll stay here." And so it seemed, I was destined to remain building MTBs for the rest of the war.

One of the troubles with that was that people used to look askance at young men like me, and wonder why we were not in the armed services. It might have been easier if they'd given us a uniform while building the MTBs.

According to the villagers that winter was the coldest in living memory, and it certainly was bitterly cold. We had only one source of heating in the cottage, and that was the coal burning fireplace in the living room. The situation was made worse because coal was in short supply. We had only the bed covers we had brought with us from London, and no matter how many clothes you wore in bed, it was difficult to get warm.

Then snow came, a relative rarity in that part of the country, and then came hard frosts. It was due to that cold that I lost my innocence.

* * * * * * * *

I suppose that writing about losing my innocence, especially sexual innocence, at eighteen will sound ridiculous now when such innocence seems to be lost as young as twelve years of age. It must be remembered that most of us were sexually more naïve in those days.

Of course I had learned to masturbate and I had my fantasies about women, but I had little idea what a woman's body was like, especially as women covered up a lot more then. As for what a sexual intercourse would be like or how you'd go about doing it, I had only the vaguest idea.

I heard the men at the yard talking about sex, but it was nearly always in sleazy joking fashion. If I asked any questions about sex I was laughed at and told, "You'll find out son."

One clue to what was about to happen -- a clue to what now seems obvious to me but I didn't understand at the time -- began about a week after my father and his unit left the village. Mother began to get very restless and agitated.

She had been like that in London and I had put it down to her fear of the air raids, but here, in the village, there was no bombing.

At times I thought mother had gone a trifle crazy because she would go for long walks often at nights and even in the pouring rain, and if I happened to be home she would insist that I go with her.

One night during the bitterly cold time as mother and I were lighting our candles to go to bed she said, "I don't seem to be able to get warm in bed, how about you?"

I agreed that it was nigh on impossible to get warm.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before she went on, "If...if we...we were to sleep in the same bed we could add your bed covers to mine and we could keep each other warm.

The boys' annuals that I read when I was a kid often told stories of brave arctic explorers huddling together for warmth, but they did not have women arctic explorers in those days, and the idea of sleeping in the same bed with mother seemed a bit strange.

Of course I remembered that I'd been in bed with mother before joining her when I first woke up, but that had stopped when I was about three or four years of age. To spend the night in bed with mother now I was eighteen seemed a different matter.

Mother must have noticed my hesitation because she said, "There's nothing wrong with us sleeping together darling, it's a big bed and it's only so we can get warm and have a decent night's sleep, and at your age it's important, especially as you have get up so early to go to work."

It all seemed very sensible and so I agreed.

During the cold spell mother had taken to putting our night clothes in front of the fire so that they would be warm when we changed into them. Our habit was to take the warm clothes to our bedrooms and change there. On this night mother suggested that we change in front of the fire.

Stripping off in front of mother was something I had not done since I was quite young, and I was incredibly shy about her seeing me naked. I assumed that she would feel the same way as me about her nakedness.

I began by turning my back to her as I undressed, believing that it would be better that way than if she saw my front, and therefore my penis. There was one flaw in my thinking, and that flaw can be labeled, "curiosity."

Here was an opportunity to see what a woman looked like, and so I tried to take a surreptitious peek at mother. At this point I had better give you some idea of what mother looked like.

I'd often thought there was something rather doll-like about her, with an almost round head poised on a long delicate neck, a snub nose with a splatter of freckles, a small mouth with a full upper lip beautifully curved, and curly blonde hair. When I took my peek she was down to her petticoat that was flattened against her pointed nipples and her upturned breasts.

She glanced at me with her remarkable, slanted violet eyes, catching me looking at her. I thought she would berate me for looking, but she only smiled.

It was then it started; my penis began to harden. When looking at mother I had partially turned towards her. For a few moments I could see her eyes focused on my embarrassing erection and I noticed that she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.

I turned hastily away and tugged on my heavy gauge winter pyjamas which gave some cover to my erect projection.

Mother came into view and she was wearing a very unsexy flannel nightdress that stretched from neck to ankles. It might be supposed that this garment would have sent my penis tumbling into quiescence, but I still had that brief glimpse of nipples and upturned breasts in mind.

She smiled at me again and said, "Come on," pointing at the dying embers of the fire, "let's go to bed before we freeze to death standing here."

She took a lighted candle and went ahead of me up the ladder stairs. When we got to the top I went into my room and removed the covers from the bed. In the front bedroom we spread my covers over those already there, and mother said, "That should keep us warm," and she then got into bed; I followed feeling somewhat ill at ease.

She lay with her back to me but said, "Cuddle up to me."

I obediently cuddled, fitting my body to the contours of hers. This meant that my still erect penis was pressing against her buttocks. This made matters worse. My mother she might be, but she was a woman, and this was the first time since I was small I had felt a female body so close.

I wanted to masturbate, but it must be born in mind that in those days masturbation was considered evil, and I was too embarrassed to do it in mother's presence. I could feel the pre-cum that was oozing from the little slit in my penis.

We lay still for a while and then mother began to make slow rhythmic movements with her buttocks, pushing back against me. Incredible though it might seem, I didn't realise she was trying to seduce me, but what I did know was that her movements were nearly driving me out of my mind.

I suppose by some male instinct I started to respond to her movement, pushing my penis hard against her buttocks. Suddenly mother, much to my disappointment, pulled away from me. There were some fumbling movements and then she was pushing back against me again, and this time it was against her naked buttocks; she had pulled up her nightdress.

She reached behind and fumbled with the slit in the front of my pyjamas and finally drew out my penis. She slipped it between her legs and I felt it slide along something warm and wet. She again reached behind her and taking my hand placed it over one of her breasts. I could feel the firm mound through the cloth of her nightdress, and as mother continued to slide my penis along what I later learned was her pudendal cleavage I started to move with her.

It was strange because up until then there had been no word spoken and no sound apart from our heavy breathing, but now mother began to moan.

"Mmm...mmm...mmm...oh...oh darling...oh my darling...mmm...mmm..."

I felt the head of my penis seemingly sucked into something hot and soaking wet and very tight. Mother gave a sudden downward thrust and my whole length sank into her.

She began a rotating movement combined with upward and downward thrusts that nearly drove me out of my mind. It was the most beautiful sensation I had ever experienced, and it was my turn to cry out, "Mum...mum...oh mum..."

Mother started to cry out again.

"Ah...ah...oha...oh...oh...ah...oha...coming...coming...oh my God...darling...ooowaaa...."

I thought I was hurting her and started to pull away, but she screamed, "No...no....stay...stay with me...let it go...come...come..."

I was about to come when mother gave a powerful downward thrust and I thought she would swallow me whole. I had no hope of holding back, and so my sperm was unleashed into her.

As she felt it spurt into her she gave a loud scream, "Ooooh...more...more..."

We seemed to be engaged in a struggle to get my length as deeply as possible into her, and as I finished ejaculating she moaned, "Don't stop...don't stop..."

Bewildered by what had happened I did stop, but it made no difference because for a while she continued to work herself over my slackening penis, her cries gradually diminishing until she gave a long sigh and stopped.

For a while we lay very still and silent. What mother was thinking and feeling I didn't know, but I felt as if I'd been to paradise and back. Eventually mother pulled herself off my penis and rolled over to face me.

"Did you like that, darling, did it feel good?" she asked.

Since it had been far beyond anything I'd fantasised I found it difficult to find the words to express what I'd felt. Rather lamely I said, "It was wonderful, mother."

"And you didn't mind helping mother?"

"Ner-no," I stuttered.

"We can make each other very happy darling, would you like to do it again?" she asked.

I had enough nous to know how women got pregnant and so hesitantly I asked, "Mum, won't you...er...you won't get pregnant, will you?"

She laughed lightly, kissed me on the lips, and said, "Don't you worry about that. After I had you the doctor said I wouldn't be able to get pregnant again. We can do it as often as we like."

"As often as we like?" I asked unbelieving.

"Yes darling, if you want to do it with me, you only have to ask or indicate and we can do it," she replied.

She kissed me again, this time running her tongue over my lips.

"Kiss me properly," she whispered, and this time as our lips met hers were parted. I had to open my lips to match her, and the next moment her tongue was in my mouth, thrusting and exploring.

My penis that had grown slack began to rise again but I was a bit like the mosquito confronted by an elephant, I knew what I wanted to do, but didn't know where to begin. I needn't have worried, mother knew what to do.

"Roll over on your back, darling," she whispered.

I obediently rolled over and mother came over on top of me. The bed covers had slipped down but it didn't matter because the room temperature seemed to have risen remarkably.

I felt the head on my penis being sucked into her again, followed by the rest of my manhood. She was very wet and slippery and mother began a slow upward and downward movement, raising and lowering her hips. I'd got the general idea and started to push up as she thrust down. There were slurping noises.

Mother said, "That's lovely isn't it; nice and slowly, just enjoy each other."

I muttered some words of agreement and started to move quickly, but mother said, "No, no darling, slowly...slowly, just enjoy." I heard her give a soft laugh as she said, "I'm going to make a man of you."

I wanted to look at what she was doing but it was too dark in the room to see her. I reached up to touch her breasts, and had to be content with feeling them through the nightdress.

It took a while, but mum started to make her noises again, "Mmm...mmm...oh...ah...ohwa...ohwa...darling....oh...come...come...put it in me...oh my darling...aaaaooow..."

I obediently put it into her, slamming jolt after jolt of my seed in as deep as I could as I held her hips and dragged down onto me.

It was the same as before; mother saying, "Stay with me...stay with me..." and bouncing up and down on me and crying out, "Oh...oh...oh...oh darling...beautiful...beautiful..." until she finally drooped over me.

I could feel our mingled fluid starting ooze out of her and we were both getting very sticky. Mother removed herself from me and got out of bed for a few moments, and then with what I suppose was a handkerchief started to clean me up, and then I presumed her self, because there were some fumbling movements.

Then she drew the covers over us and said, "Sleep now darling."

* * * * * * * *

When I woke up in the morning it was still dark. I had to be at work by seven o'clock, and glancing at the luminous bedside clock I saw it was six fifteen. The memory of what had happened the previous night seemed almost like a wonderful dream, but if I doubted its reality the bed and room were redolent of our activity. I later learned that sexual intercourse always leaves behind it that particular slight fishy odour.

Mother was still curled up asleep so as quietly as I could I got out of bed and made my way to my bedroom. It was still bitterly cold and I put on all the clothed I could without totally immobalising myself and made my way down stairs.

I had resolved to be brave and wash my penis as well as my hands and face but the one water pipe had frozen, and so no wash. I quickly swallowed some cereal and then scrunched my way to work through the snow.

At that time of the year it didn't get really light until eight o'clock and started to get dark about three thirty in the afternoon, and so our work shift had shortened. At first we groped around in the dim light as we worked, and to add to the misery a sharp with was blowing in off the sea.

I was partly sustained by my thoughts dwelling on what mother and I had done despite it still seeming like a dream, and there was the promise of more to come. Despite devotion to the war effort and all that sort of thing, I was very relieved when it was time to go home.

When I got inside the cottage I was surprised to find it so warm. Mother had a blazing fire going which was unusual given the way we had to eke out our coal to make it last. In addition all four gas jets were burning on the stove boiling water in a kettle and saucepans.

Mother had undergone a change; from being depressed and agitated she seemed to be euphoric. Dressed only in her woolen dressing gown (bought at Marks and Spencers before the war), her eyes were bright and alive.

I'd only eaten two cheese rolls that day, bought at what passed for the works canteen, and I was starving. Normally we ate soon after I arrived home, but mother said, "Bath darling bath," and commenced pouring the hot water into the uncovered bath.

"But mum," I said, "the pipe was frozen this morning, so how..."

"Old Mr. Vick unfroze if for me," she said, "now get on with your bath."

I expected her to leave while I got undressed but she stayed and openly watched me. Once I was in the bath mother started heating something on the stove; it smelt delicious.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Ah," mother said, "something special; rabbit stew, it already cooked and only needs heating."

Rabbit, an off ration luxury and rarely obtainable!

"How did you..." I began, but mother interrupted, "Came in at the butchers today, I had to queue for over and hour to get it."

Queuing was a common feature of shopping in those days; in fact so much so that people who saw a queue simply joined it find out what was being sold because it had to be something rarely obtainable.

"You queued in this weather?" I said.

"I hardly noticed," she replied, "and in any case it was very fortunate because we've only got some corned beef left from our meat ration. Now hurry up and we can eat."