No Flying Tonight Ch. 01-02bylindseymarsh©
The story is fiction and is intended for the reader's enjoyment. It is an attempt by the author to write a story which melds history and erotica. As far as possible, the contents are historically accurate with the exception of RAF Langton, RAF Fulnetby and 362 Squadron; none of which existed, although Langton and Fulnetby are real places. As it is an attempt to be historically accurate there are words with which many English speaking people, including some younger Britons, may not be familiar and a few references which may offend the politically correct. An examination of the context should provide answers to the former and, as for the latter, if you are easily offended then don't bother to read it.
"No flying tonight boys, the Met. Office says it's one hundred per cent cloud cover from here to Vladivostok. It looks like Happy Valley and the Big City are definitely off the menu."
Flight Lieutenant John Robert Lindsey opened an eye and peered; firstly at the bearer of the message and, secondly, at the window of his quarters. It looked, as usual, that Flying Officer William Patterson, the bearer of the good news, was right; outside the sky was almost black and the window pane streaked with rain; inside it was cold and damp; nowhere near the standards he had enjoyed in Canada. He looked at Patterson and asked,
"What about tomorrow, Billy?"
"Ah, sorry about that Jack, it looks like it's going to be fine."
As Patterson left, Jack reached over and picked up a letter from his bedside dresser. He had received it the prior week and had been surprised to find it was from a Pilot Officer Andrew McLeod asking if they could meet. He had recognised the name; it was Sophie McLeod's son who, from the address in the letter, was with 419 Squadron, RCAF at Middleton St. George. The letter didn't mention why he wanted to see him; just that he had leave due and could be in Langton on Thursday or Friday. He had replied he would be pleased to see him; but had reminded him he was on active service and there was no guarantee he would be available. Two days later he had received a telegram from McLeod saying he had managed to beg a ride on a plane which was flying into RAF Coningsby and would be in Langton sometime on Thursday afternoon. Today was Thursday and, as he re-read the letter, he wondered why Sophie's son would want to talk to him so urgently; particularly as they'd never met.
Jack Lindsey -- only his mother called him John - was a twenty-one year old pilot with 362 Squadron, Bomber Command, stationed at RAF Langton in Lincolnshire. He had been seventeen and at school when the war started but, even then, had a singular ambition; to follow his father and become a pilot in the RAF. In spite of the odds -- only one in seven of Bomber Command air-crew were pilots -- he was now the pilot of a Mark lll Lancaster; responsible for both it and the lives of six other young men, whose immediate goal in life was to drop four tons of high explosive onto Germany and return -- thirty times. They had visited the Third Reich twenty-nine times and each time returned successfully; their next sortie would be their last. He was looking forward to it; he found it hard to believe he had survived so long when so many of his friends had perished in the night skies over Europe. His last two years had been years of firsts; his first time away from home; his first time abroad; his first experiences of sex and his first experience of real danger and, while he had enjoyed the first three, he'd had enough of the last one. He was tired and had no reserves left.
His story was typical of a Bomber Command pilot. He had inherited his desire to fly from his father who'd fought in the Great War, firstly in the army, then the Royal Flying Corps and finally, from April 1918, as a member of the fledgling RAF. His father was a natural pilot who loved flying and, when the war ended, had left the RAF reluctantly; returning to Lancashire and the family engineering firm. Throughout the post-war years he had maintained his love of flying and in 1937, at the first signs of the coming war, convinced he would be needed when the war started, he had bought a second-hand de Havilland Gypsy Moth and had started flying again. He was pleased when his son asked to fly with him and, when pressed by Jack to teach him to fly, had gladly given him flying lessons. Three days after his sixteenth birthday Jack had qualified as a glider pilot and by the late summer of 1939 was looking forward to gaining his pilot's licence. Then the war came and changed everything.
On September 3rd, 1939 Jack and his family had listened to the wireless as Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister, told the British people a state of war existed between Great Britain and Nazi Germany. His mother and father had exchanged knowing looks and then his mother had started to cry. To Jack war offered adventure; to his parents, who were old enough to remember the Great War in which his father had fought and his mother's oldest brother had been killed, it offered only heartache.
As the war progressed he gradually came to appreciate war wasn't just an adventure. The wartime restrictions such as the blackout, rationing and petty irritants, such as always having to carry your gas mask, were onerous. In spite of the restrictions, the phoney war of late 1939 and early 1940 provided little insight to those who hadn't fought in the Great War into the horrors of war and the hardships which were to follow. In May 1940 the situation changed dramatically. The Germans attacked and occupied the Low Countries and France, driving the British army out of France and back to Britain and, simultaneously, the Luftwaffe started nightly air raids on the principle cities of Britain. Manchester and Liverpool were extensively bombed and, although little damage was inflicted on his home town, each time Jack visited Manchester it was obvious the bomb damage was getting worse.
Jack knew he would have to join the forces and, if he waited to be conscripted, he wouldn't be able to choose in which of the forces he served. He wanted to be a pilot and the only way to ensure he had a chance was to volunteer. At eight a.m. on the third of June, 1940, his eighteenth birthday, he appeared at the local RAF recruiting office where he was accepted and sent home to await his call-up papers.
Over the next seven months he completed his final year at school, played cricket and football, had his first two love affairs and waited for the postman.
The first of his love affairs had been with Angela Parr, the eighteen year old daughter of one of his primary school teachers. Living at home in a small Lancashire town provided few opportunities for sex. The girls he knew were mainly middle-class who, if they weren't frightened of sex, were definitely frightened of getting pregnant. It was Angela who broke the mould.
Angela looked like her mum and, according to his friends, was fat and had the reputation of being the local bike, although none had actually claimed to have ridden her and a more accurate and charitable description of her body would have been Rubenesque.
One evening, following a visit to the church youth club, they'd found themselves walking home together and, although the church hall was near to Jack's house, they'd continued past his house in the direction of hers. They were talking and enjoying themselves. He had recounted to her the story of his trip to the local recruiting office, making great play of the age and absent-mindedness of the officer taking the applications; she had countered with a description of her first camping trip with the Girl Guides, exaggerating slightly the inability of the Guide Leader to organize the bell tent. As they walked, he felt her brush against him, rubbing her tits against his arm. When she did it a second and third time, he knew it wasn't an accident. He helped her over the stile, which provided access to the town cricket pitch and a short-cut to her house and, in the act of jumping down, she caught her foot and slipped, falling forward and landing on him. In the struggle to get up, he accidentally grabbed her breast. He had expected her to object and pull away but, instead, she stopped struggling and smiled.
"Gosh, Jack, I didn't know you cared." Until that point he hadn't but, as he continued to hold her breast, he realised he liked what he was doing. He tried to cup the breast he was holding and was surprised by the size; from what he could feel it appeared he would need at least two hands to accommodate it, if not more. She smiled again, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. The kiss came as a surprise but he liked it; what he liked even more was the feel of her tits against his chest. It was exciting, he'd never had a girl do that to him and his body responded. His tumescent cock hardened, becoming fully erect and pressing against the front of his trousers and her belly. She felt it and wriggled against it; just to make sure she hadn't made a mistake.
"Come on Jack, I know how to get into the cricket pavilion." Jack did too, but his illegal entries had been with his school friends and had been for the purpose of smoking; he was fairly sure, once they got in, Angela was not going to offer him a cigarette. As she pried open the catch on the kitchen window, using a thin piece of metal which she had taken from its hiding place under the pavilion steps, she looked at him and said,
"We'd better be quick; my mum's expecting me home in twenty minutes at the latest."
It took less than fifteen for both of them to come with Angela leading the way. As soon as they had made it through the window she removed her blouse and bra and then pulled her knickers down and out from under her skirt. Jack watched her; enjoying what she was doing, amazed by her brazenness and trying to determine what she expected of him.
"Come on Jack; what are you waiting for? Get your trousers off." He didn't need telling twice. Within ten seconds he had removed his trousers and underwear and was standing facing her; his cock poking out from under his shirt. She looked at his cock.
"Come on Jack; don't be shy; you don't need to hide it. Look, you can see my tits." She cupped a tit in each hand and jiggled them up and down.
"Like them, Jack?" She was smiling at him. She didn't really need to ask; she could tell from the reaction of his cock he liked them.
His first impressions had been correct; her tits were gigantic. At least two handfuls, they drooped - magnificently Jack thought - down her chest. The only other tits Jack had seen were accidental sightings of those of his sister and, while his sister's weren't small, they paled in comparison to those before him. He marvelled at their size and also the size of her almost erect nipples, which pointed slightly upwards and outwards from her tits. His heart rate increased dramatically as he contemplated what he was going to do with them. For some reason, and he couldn't understand why, he had the urge to bite them.
He moved over to where she was standing and started to play with them; kneading and squeezing them inexpertly. She reached down and pulled up the tail of his shirt. It had been obvious his cock was big but when it emerged from under his shirt she gasped; a look of amazement in her eyes;
"Wow, Jack; it's big. Your cock's the biggest I've ever seen." He stopped playing with her tits and watched as she stepped back and looked it over; taking in the enormity of it. She pulled his shirt over his head and then marvelled again as he stood naked; his cock pointing at the ceiling.
"Do you want me to wank you off?" He nodded.
She reached down and stroked it; running her palm from the tip to the base; once she reached the base she caressed his balls and then grasped his cock in her hand and started to wank him.
She had done it many times before and knew exactly what excited a man. It didn't take long before he could feel the spunk starting to rise in his balls; she could tell he was excited and increased her tempo; stopping twice to lick her palm and rub it very gently along the underside of his cock. The second time she did it he came; the spunk spurting out of him in a warm stream; some landing on her arm and tits; the rest coating the kitchen floor. As she wanked him, she became excited; her cunt started to flood with her come and her nipples started to feel sensitive; the feeling she always had when she needed to get herself off. By the time he had come she was breathing heavily and couldn't wait any longer. She lifted her skirt and started to play with her cunt. Jack stood and watched as, skirt hem in one hand and the other on her clit, she expertly masturbated herself to a climax. Watching her climax he was intrigued by the way she squeezed her stomach muscles and grimaced, almost as though she was in pain.
For the next six months they visited the cricket pavilion at every opportunity, during which the range of their sexual activities increased significantly. She encouraged him to titty-fuck and dry hump her; although she wasn't happy when he came without telling her and covered her face with spunk. In return she taught him to play with her clit and finger-fuck her so that, by the end of the six months, he had become expert in what excited her.
In the end it was her refusal to fuck him which ended their relationship. He liked her; he knew she was plump and the butt of jokes among his friends; but she was also bright and funny and he loved what they did to each other. He loved it when she knelt over him and dangled her tits so they brushed his face; allowing him to suck and gently nip her nipples. He loved how she stroked his balls and then coated her palm with saliva and ran her hands up from his balls and along his cock; stopping to brush very gently the underside of the policeman's helmet but, most of all, he loved it when she lay underneath him and licked the underside of his balls while he wanked.
She loved it when he brushed her clit so lightly it felt almost as if he were tickling her, she loved it when he fucked her hard with his middle three fingers and, most of all, she loved it when he fucked her tits. What he didn't like was her refusal to fuck him but what he didn't know was, with a little persuasion, she would have.
She knew she had the reputation of being easy but didn't mind; she liked sex and, while getting herself off was satisfying, she loved it when a man did it for her and when she did it for him. She'd had numerous opportunities to fuck her boyfriends but knew they were only interested in her body and, while she didn't mind them trying, she wanted something more than a quick fuck in exchange for her virginity. Somehow Jack was different; he talked to her and wasn't afraid to be seen with her; furthermore; he was good at getting her off and, it had to be admitted, the thought of what it would be like impaled on his cock excited her. She wanted to try it; but needed persuading.
Had Jack known of her ambivalence, he may have tried harder to convince her. As it was his approaches were half-hearted and, possibly because she was adept at satisfying him without fucking him, he didn't try hard to persuade her. From time to time when he was playing with her cunt he tried to mount her, but she always rebuffed him. He almost managed it once. He had been lying between her legs and playing with her clit and, when she started to come, he had pushed forward and managed to slip the head in; she had responded by crossing her legs and forcing him out, but then, with a smile on her face, told him,
"If you think you're going to stick that monster in my twat Jack Lindsey, you've got another think coming." What she didn't add was 'but if you want to try a bit harder I might let you'.
When it ended it wasn't traumatic for either of them. The week after they split up he started seeing Jane and she met a pencil-thin 2nd Lieutenant in the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry who had a thing for plump women and, for whom, Angela was the incarnation of all his desires. Five months later she was happy, pregnant and married - in that order - and he was fucking Jane.
Five foot seven and eight stone three pounds with reddish hair, blue eyes and a fair complexion highlighted by a sprinkling of freckles, Jane Grey was anything but plain. Slim, with almost boy-like hips; her tits were small, somewhere between an A and a B -- she insisted they were a small B - but were tipped with disproportionately long, pink nipples, which outdid the pencil-rubber nipples of her girlfriends by a factor of five. The daughter of the local Church of England vicar; she had been at grammar school with his sister and became his girlfriend just after he and Angela split up. As a friend of his elder sister and just over a year older than him, she had often seemed far more worldly and mature and, on occasion, this disparity between them had prompted him to wonder why she had gone out with him. If asked she would have answered it was because she didn't have a boyfriend at the time and, after all, Jack was quite good looking. If she had been pressed to tell the truth she would have added that she had also been intrigued by his sister's ribald and detailed description of the size of Jack's cock!
Their first date had started platonically; they had gone into Manchester by bus to see a display of captured German military equipment, followed by afternoon tea in a downtown restaurant. They arrived back just after dark and, when the bus dropped them off, Jack insisted he would see her home. As it was their first date, he was undecided what he should do when he left her at her door. What he wanted was to kiss her, followed by a leisurely grope of her tits; the minimum he would have expected with Angela; but Jane wasn't Angela and groping her tits was probably presumptuous at this point in their relationship. He could just say 'good night', but that was too unromantic and not what she would expect; he finally opted for a peck on the cheek.
Jane felt cheated; she had enjoyed his company, but the display of German equipment; the tail plane from a shot-down bomber, two or three lorries, several field guns and what seemed like thousands of assorted rifles, machine guns and uniforms had been boring. She wanted to finish the day with some excitement and so, ignoring his peck, she pulled him to her and kissed him properly; on the mouth and with her arms around him. As she held him, she pressed her tits into his chest and, as they continued to kiss, she could feel her nipples starting to respond; becoming erect and hard. Jack couldn't feel them though his sports-jacket but could feel her tits; which, unlike Angela's, were small and firm and didn't squash as comfortably against his body. It was enough, however, and his cock responded, becoming erect and filling the front of his trousers. She rubbed against him and deliberately brushed her belly against his cock. Not believing what she'd felt, she pressed against him again, the second touch confirming her first impression; even through his trousers his cock was impressive.
Jane was, technically, a virgin but had indulged in what her girlfriends coyly referred to as 'playing with each other' with a number of her former boyfriends and had a good idea what constituted a normal penis size; she was sure from his sister's description and her first contact that Jack's was anything but normal. On their second date, she confirmed her suspicions in the relative privacy of the back row of the pictures when she ran her hand along his thigh and grabbed his cock. It was, as she later described it to a friend, 'enormous' and she knew she had to have it, if not in her cunt at least to play with. Jack liked what she was doing, but the back row in the pictures was not as private as the cricket pavilion and he'd had to be content with a covert stroking of her tits; a come down from his experiences with Angela.