Blitzed

Because I worked in the factory office I always finished earlier than Dad, and that night when I arrived home I was surprised to find Chuck was there, chatting with Mum as she made coffee. There was a delicious aroma in the air, which told me she hadn't wasted any time making soup from some pieces of the ham bone he had brought, and there was fresh bread on the table.

I was a still little bit embarrassed about letting Chuck rub my fanny the night before, but at the same time I was glad it had happened, because later on under the stairs, thinking about how it had made me feel had helped get me in the right frame of mind to let Dad shag me. Not that I would have tried to stop him anyway, but it had made it easier.

I gave Chuck an awkward smile. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

He returned my smile as though last night hadn't happened. "I just came a few minutes before you got here."

Mum nodded in affirmation. "Yes, he just came."

It wasn't until after I said what I said next that I realised that it could be taken a number of ways. "Thank you for last night Chuck. You have no idea how happy you made me."

After the words were out I realised how right I was. I was happy for the food and stockings, I was happy that he had rubbed my fanny, and most of all I was happy that he had accepted my refusal and not persisted in trying to shag me. That didn't necessarily mean I wanted him to stop trying. Even if I continued to deny him, it would still make me feel good to know he wanted to.

He gave me a look of understanding, but fortunately for me he didn't say anything, which was good because I wasn't sure I would be able to respond without putting my foot in it. We sat around chatting about the war, with Mum getting up every few minutes to check on the soup, and then Dad came home.

He sniffed the air appreciatively. "That smells good. Put another bowl out for Chuck here." Putting on one of his 'intimidating' looks, which never worked on me and Mum so was extremely unlikely to work on Chuck, he said "You haven't tasted good grub until you've tasted Cora's pea and ham soup."

"Thank you Sir, I'd be honoured."

Surprised that he got his own way so easily, Dad grinned sheepishly. "Yes, well, OK. And stop calling me Sir. My name is Fred."

"OK Si.. uh.. Fred."

The soup was even better than I remembered from last time -- a lifetime ago now - with small pieces of ham and little pearls of barley, mixed in with the split peas which had boiled into a thick mush just the way I liked it. After we had wiped our bowls clean with the soft fresh bread, we left the dishes on the table, and shifted across into the living part of the room. Dad took his usual place in his big old armchair and lit a ciggie before offering one to Chuck. Although he had provided the smokes in the first place, Chuck seemed to sense that it was important to Dad to act the role of host and benefactor, so he accepted with a solemn nod, and took a seat at the end of the couch whilst Mum busied herself in the kitchen brewing more coffee. I dropped into the remaining armchair, and after she had served the drinks, Mum took the other end of the couch.

As the men smoked, Chuck started to open up. He remembered nothing of his parents, and had been raised by an Aunt and Uncle on a small horse ranch in Texas. It hadn't been much of a childhood, and he had never really felt that he belonged, that he had been taken in simply because there was nowhere else for him to go. Mostly he was treated as an unpaid ranch hand, and the only times he had really been content were when he was out on his own, galloping across the prairie with the hot sun on his face, and the wind in his hair. Eventually he had tired of being made to feel like an intruder, and during the Great Depression had opted for the security offered by becoming a professional soldier.

As he concluded, Mum reached across and patted his hand. "Well you'll never be an intruder here, will he Fred?" Dad shook his head, and Mum rose from the couch. "I'd better get moving or I'll be late for work."

After she left, Chuck asked Dad about his own war service, horror plain on his face as he heard about kids barely out of school, running around the muddy trenches in panic as they tried to escape the rolling clouds of choking, burning gas. This was all new to me too, because Dad never talked about the Great War, but I guessed that he felt more comfortable talking as one soldier to another.

As darkness began to close in, Chuck looked at his watch. "That time again."

I stood up quickly. "I'll walk with you if you want. If it's OK with Dad?"

Dad hesitated for a moment, and when he shrugged I knew that the pad between my legs had made his mind up. "OK, but come straight back." Almost as an afterthought, he called Chuck back and whispered in his ear.

I thought that maybe he had been warning Chuck to keep his hands to himself, but if he had it apparently had no effect, because when we got to the pick up spot, he led me straight to the relative privacy of the shop doorway and cupped my breast. I raised my face for a kiss, unconcerned when his hand moved down over my tummy. His whispered "Oh" told me he had found the barrier, and I pressed closer when he pushed inside my blouse. Although I wasn't ready to let him shag me even if I could, I saw no harm in other things, so I let him console himself with kissing me and feeling my tits until the lorry turned up.

It wasn't all one way of course, because I didn't exactly discourage him. His kisses were nice, and the way he stroked my tits was better, especially when he twiddled my stiff nipples. When he heaved himself up over the tailgate, I found myself wishing that we could have had a few minutes longer.

Lying in bed later I heard a sound I had heard countless times, but had never paid any heed to. Now, however, I listened intently through the wall to the rhythmic squeaking of the springs of Mum and Dad's old iron bed, and knew that Mum was reaping the benefits of my incapacity.

Chuck was sitting talking to Mum again when I got home from work next day. When Dad came home Mum went into the kitchen to start the meal, and shaking Chuck's hand Dad asked quietly "Did you get them?"

Digging into his ever present haversack Chuck handed him some boxes of matches, fastened together with elastic, much as the cigarettes had been, and Dad slipped them quickly into his jacket pocket. It struck me as a bit too penny pinching that Dad would ask for matches, when they were cheap enough and readily available from the local shops, and stranger still that he should be so secretive about it. Then again, there was no knowing when the war would end, and rationing was getting tighter and tighter, so maybe Dad was simply thinking ahead.

When I walked with Chuck to catch his lift I headed for our usual shop doorway, but he surprised me by making no attempt to feel me. Instead he just chatted until the lorry came. The next few nights were the same, but I didn't mind too much because he was good company, and there were things I could talk to him about that I couldn't discuss with Mum and Dad. He seemed to have taken Mum at her word when she told him he would never be an intruder, because he became a frequent visitor. Some times he was there when I got home, sometimes he came later, and some days I didn't see him at all. I suppose on average he showed up at least every second day, and invariably with something for the larder. Tinned meat mostly, although he made sure we never ran out of coffee milk or sugar, and, of course, smokes for Dad.

On a Monday night about eight or nine days after the incident under the stairs, Mum had gone to work, and I had just returned from seeing Chuck catch his ride back to the base. I was sitting with Dad listening to the wireless, and after about fifteen minutes he looked at me and took a deep breath. "Um, has your woman thing finished yet?"

I knew what he meant, because I had been thinking along the same lines since my monthly stopped. "Yes, a few days ago, why?"

He came and sat beside me on the couch. "I've been thinking about, well, you know.... under the stairs last week."

"Oh, that."

"Yes. Was it OK?"

"Yes Dad, it was fine."

"Um, that's good. I was a bit worried."

I shrugged, wishing he would hurry up and get to the point. "What's done is done. No sense worrying about it."

He hesitated for a long moment then laid a hand on my knee. "Um, I was, um, wondering. Would you like to try it again?"

At last! "If you want. I don't mind." Mind? I couldn't wait to feel him inside me again! I'd thought of little else for days, especially since Chuck had stopped trying to feel me.

With a huge sigh of relief, Dad slid his hand up the inside of my leg and stroked me through my knickers for a few seconds. "Can we take these off?"

"OK, but you too." I lifted my bum off the couch so he could pull my knickers off, then he crumpled my dress around my waist and stood staring at my fanny as he took his trousers off. I could feel myself getting wetter by the second as I looked at his hard dick. It looked bigger than it had felt when it was in me, but common sense told me that it had gone in once so it would go in again.

I suddenly remembered how his stuff had splattered on my leg the first time, and I closed my legs quickly. What if he couldn't pull out in time? "I'm scared Dad, what if I get a baby?"

He shook his head. "It'll be OK, don't worry. I've got something."

He stooped and took a box of matches from his trouser pocket, and I looked at him dubiously. How could matches stop me from getting pregnant? He slid open the box and took out a small packet, and then I understood the secrecy when Chuck had given him what I thought were matches. He ripped open the packet, and extracted what appeared to be a thin rubber ring with a sort of blister in the centre. I watched in fascination as he put the blister against the end of his dick, and unrolled the ring until his entire stalk was sheathed in thin rubber.

I opened my legs again as he came towards me, then he was between my knees, pushing slowly. It seemed to take forever to go in, and it dawned on me that it hadn't felt so big the first time, because he mustn't have put it all in. Maybe because if he did it too hard I might make a fuss, and Mum would be alerted to what he was doing. Or maybe he thought that if he didn't go all the way in I might think it was accidental because we were pressed so close together. Whatever the reason, he put it in just enough to break my maidenhead and poke me until he squirted. Now that it was all the way in, it felt every bit as big as it looked, and it felt... heavenly. He paused for a moment to unbutton my dress all the way, and push my brassiere up under my chin, then put his mouth on my nipple. He sucked one tit and stroked the other, then changed sides, and as the warmth spread through me he started to push his dick in and out of my wet fanny.

He started slowly at first as if he was trying to be careful not to hurt me, and then my Dad was shagging me... and shagging me... and shagging me, and the more he shagged me the more I wanted him to. It wasn't as quick as the first time, because he didn't have to worry about pulling out, and gradually the warmth moving down from my tits met the burning between my legs.

With each exciting push of his stiff dick I discovered that my thoughts were evolving. There were certain words that men and boys used for what was happening that 'nice' girls would never dream of saying, but then again 'nice' girls would never dream of doing 'it' with their fathers. At least not willingly, and since I was certainly willing, I could hardly be 'nice'. Although I lacked the courage to voice it out loud, with every forbidden thrust of my Dad's hips, in the silence of my mind I begged him to "Shag me Dad.. shag me... Oh yes! Shag me!"

The wetness oozing out of my fanny turned slippery and creamy, and I was beyond feeling shame or guilt. Pressing his mouth harder against my heaving tits, I wrapped my legs around him, trying to draw him deeper as Dad's driving dick set fire to every nerve and fibre in my body. Suddenly he stopped, and I could tell from the way he was groaning that he was shooting his stuff out of his dick. I was glad he was wearing something because he stayed inside me, and after resting for a little while he started again. This time he took even longer, and by the time he finished I was shaking like a puppet with broken strings.

The following night Chuck started feeling my tits again, and by the time the lorry came I was so wet I practically sprinted home, desperate to feel Dad's dick in me again. For the rest of the week it was the same. Chuck's hands on my tits would get me wet, and then I would rush home and open my legs for Dad.

On Saturday night Chuck suggested we go to the club, so I went to wash and change. Unwrapping my treasured stockings, I sat on my bed and drew them carefully up my legs, luxuriating in the silky glide against my skin. Standing up I examined the effect in the mirror. I felt quite alluring as I looked at the clinging hose, contrasting with the paleness of the tops of my thighs, and the light fringe almost but not quite concealing the neat dividing line of my fanny. Pulling on my knickers, I stepped into my shoes and slipped my best dress over my head, before going downstairs, where Chuck and I said goodbye to my parents and headed for the club.

It was the first time we had been since we met, and it was good catching up with Doris outside of work, even though most of the time she couldn't take her eyes off Wilbur. Towards the end of a wonderful evening of dancing and gossiping, she and I were powdering our noses in the ladies' room, whilst she took a delight in going into lurid details of how, when and where Wilbur had shagged her. After a lot of prompting and cajoling, I finally confessed that Chuck had felt my tits, but of course I didn't dare tell her about Dad.

By the time we rejoined the men I was in quite a state, so I was relieved when Doris gave me a saucy wink and said they were going. Chuck and I left minutes later, but instead of going to meet the lorry, he led me behind the club and kissed me as he slipped his hand into the top of my dress. For several minutes he kissed me and felt my tits, then I gasped when for the first time since Dad had taken my virginity, he started rubbing his knee against my fanny. What Doris had told me must have affected me more than I knew, because I didn't try to stop him until he put his hand down there.

"No Chuck," I protested, although I didn't sound convincing even to myself.

"Why not, honey?" he whispered. I knew Chuck well enough to be sure that if I pushed his hand away, he would give up trying, but before I could his fingers pressed against my clitoris through my clothes, and he added. "We both know you want to."

After what Dad and I had done I could no longer say with honesty that I wasn't that kind of girl, so I said the first thing that came to mind. "You'll miss your lift."

He responded with a soft laugh. "It's Saturday night. There'll be another truck along later to pick up the stragglers."

With each stroke of his fingers he was becoming harder to resist, but I had to try. "I'm scared."

"There's no need to be scared. You know I'd never hurt you."

"It's not that. I'm scared I might get... well, you know."

"You don't have to worry about that. I'll put a rubber on my cock first so you can't get any come in your pussy."

Aside from the usual school yard banter which was mostly fuelled by bravado, nobody had ever said 'cock' or 'come' to me before, and I found hearing it for the first time in 'earnest' wickedly exciting, so I filed it away in my mind along with my other 'new' naughty words like 'pussy' and 'fuck'.

By now my fanny was too wet for me to even try to make more excuses, and linking my hands behind his neck, I pulled his face down to mine and opened my legs in total surrender.

His hands were sure and confident as he lifted the hem of my dress and his palm began a slow sensuous glide up the inside of my stockinged thighs. The night air was cool on the wet heat of my fanny when he pulled aside my knickers and pushed a finger into me, and I shuddered with need when he caressed my clitoris. This was something Dad had never bothered to do for more than a second or so to make sure I was wet, and I waited impatiently as he fumbled with the rubber sheath, feeling instinctively that what was about to happen would be something more than special.

Then I was clinging to him as he bent his knees momentarily then straightened, driving his rigid Yankee cock up into my pussy. In next to no time I knew why boys referred to a stand up shag as a 'knee trembler'. My legs were shaking so uncontrollably that I was sure I would have fallen to my knees if I hadn't been impaled on his thrusting cock. I lost all sense of time and place as he fucked me. Where we were and even who we were meant nothing. The only meaning was in the strong hands on my tits and arse, and the inexorable and relentless thrusting of his cock as he skilfully coaxed out the creamy fluids that soaked my knickers, and were now oozing unchecked down the insides of my thighs.

Some inner sense told me that I wasn't the first woman he had seduced and fucked like this, and I would almost certainly not be the last, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the him and the me. The here and and the now. The hard driving cock and the dripping pussy. The shuddering climax as we reached our peak and tumbled down into total gasping satiation. My legs were decidedly shaky as we hurried to meet the lorry, and there was barely time for Chuck to have one more quick feel of my sticky pussy before we heard the deep rumble of the engine.

Making my way home I was glad that it was the weekend, and Mum didn't have to work, because after the tumultuous fucking I had just received, letting Dad shag me so soon would be something of an anti climax. As it turned out, Mum and Dad were already in bed, and after carefully rinsing the drying stiffness out of my stockings and knickers and hanging them on the end of my bed to dry, I stood before the mirror, studying my swollen pussy by the light of a candle. My clitoris was red and inflamed, but thankfully not sore, and with a happy smile I pulled my nightdress on and lay in bed, reliving every glorious thrust of Chuck's rampant cock, before dozing off to the faint rhythmic squeaking coming through the wall.

Chuck had an even greater surprise for us when he arrived next day. Settling himself in his usual place on the couch beside Mum, he lit a smoke and looked at us all with a teasing smile. I sensed that he was hiding something, but it was clear that we wouldn't find out what until he was good and ready. After an eternity he finished his smoke, then with a theatrical flourish he took a small white box from his bag and handed it to Mum. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she weighed it in her hand, then held it out so Dad and I could see.

It took several seconds for my brain to catch up with my eyes, then I gasped as I read the print.

"Prepared by Cook Chocolate Company, Chicago, Ill. 4 Ounces Net."

Chocolate! A whole quarter pound of real honest to God chocolate!

This was something we hardly dared dream about, because nearly three years into the war chocolate was mostly available only on the black market, and was so expensive that only the privileged few could afford it. My mouth watered as I watched her open one end and extract the cellophane wrapped treat, neatly sectioned into squares. It was much darker than the last chocolate I had seen a lifetime ago, and my hand shook as I accepted a piece. I looked at it, almost afraid to taste it in case it turned out to be a joke, but when Mum and Dad each pushed a square into their mouths I eagerly followed suit.