Earning His Wings

With nothing much else to do, Peggy again suggested that Chris watch a bit of television while she attended to some chores. From what he'd seen of British TV in the brief time he'd been in England, Chris hadn't liked it all that much. No, that wasn't totally true, there had been one program that he'd found interesting, a sort of quirky spy drama called "The Avengers." He didn't find the British humor in the show all that funny, but the woman who played Emma Peel, the main female character, had been awesome - especially in the leather catsuit she wore.

Chris offered to help Peggy with her tasks, but, as she pointed out, he really wasn't dressed for it. So, he just made himself comfortable as he could on the small couch and read the local newspaper. Most of the things he read about held little interest, when he had no more than the most rudimentary knowledge of the area. His lack of interest caused him to actually doze off without realizing it.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but when he woke he found Peggy standing before him with his now dry clothes in her hands. As he headed back to the bathroom to change, she asked if he was hungry, as it was nearing supper.

Now thinking about it, Chris said that he was.

"Good. Don't expect anything fancy, but I'm sure I can fix us up something filling," Peggy replied.

Dinner turned out to be what she called Bangers and Mash and Chris enjoyed it greatly. As they ate, he answered a number of questions about his life, so many in fact that by the time they'd finished, Peggy knew more about him than anyone he'd been on the tour with.

He in turn learned that Peggy was, as she mentioned before, a widow. Her husband of thirteen years had been nine years older when they'd married after the war, and they'd had a son, who was now sixteen. He was spending the summer with his grandparents. She was also, he was surprised to learn, older than he'd first assumed, having turned fifty-three a few months before.

"If you like, I have a sponge cake that we could have a slice of for dessert," Peggy said as she cleared the dishes.

"I think I'm pretty full," Chris smiled.

"Well, just keep it in mind for later then," she said as she returned to the table. "Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, the rain seems to have finally stopped."

Chris had indeed failed to notice, so intent had he been on their conversation. Speaking so frankly with someone who, he now realized, was older than his parents had really been a unique experience. What he couldn't have imagined was just how much franker it was about to get.

"So, tell me, Chris, this Cheryl Simpson that you fancy and were willing to follow all the way here to England," Peggy asked. "Were you just hoping that the two of you would get into some serious snogging, or did you think there was a possibility something more. A spot of nooky perhaps?"

"Excuse me?" Chris sputtered, almost choking on his drink.

"Oh, come on, if you can't be honest with a stranger who can you be honest with?" Peggy smiled.

After thinking about it a few long moments, Chris had to admit she had a point. After all, after today, well tomorrow at least since it was going to take that long for the road to dry out, he wasn't ever going to see her again.

"I really didn't think we were going to go that far," he said, referring to the second option. "I mean, we haven't even gone out on a real date yet."

"You'd be surprised what can happen under the right set of circumstances," Peggy offered.

That might be true, Chris considered, but he couldn't imagine any set of circumstances that would see Cheryl in his bed.

"You have been with a girl before, haven't you?" Peggy asked.

"Yes, I've been with a girl before," Chris replied, not wanting to mention that his affirmation was only in the technical sense, both experiences having been short and unremarkable.

"Not that there would be anything wrong if you hadn't," Peggy pointed out. "I mean we all start out as virgins."

Chris just nodded his head, thinking that this was really a strange conversation, but one that he was enjoying immensely.

"Well, since you've said you don't really like what's on the telly, and we still have a few hours to kill before I think either of us is ready for bed, how shall we fill them?" Peggy asked, apparently changing the subject. "You don't strike me as the type for draughts or noughts and crosses."

"I'm afraid I don't know what those are," Chris said.

"Just a couple of silly games," Peggy laughed, "not as much fun as a round of rumpy pumpy though."

Peggy paused for a moment, the expression on her face suggesting she was enjoying a joke of sorts and that she was waiting a reaction from Chris. If so, he thought, she was going to be disappointed because he had no idea what that last game was either.

"Oh, I know what you might find interesting," Peggy suddenly exclaimed, her eyes lighting up, "that is if I can find them."

She excused herself from the table and headed back to the bedroom. A few minutes of various sounds filtered back, leading him to believe she was having trouble finding what she was searching for. Then, the sounds abruptly stopped.

"I knew I had this in there somewhere," Peggy said as she walked back into the kitchen.

Chris didn't know what to make of the old cigar box she'd placed in the center of the table. It looked like it was about to fall apart and was held together with knotted up string. She removed a sharp knife from a drawer and cut the cord in several places, allowing it to fall free when she pulled on it.

"Back during the war, my uncle had an old Leica that he let me borrow whenever I wanted," she said as she dumped the contents of the box onto the table. "He was a bit of a camera enthusiast, even had a darkroom in the basement to do his own developing. Taught me quite a bit about it as well."

Looking down, Chris saw that the box was filled with well over a hundred black and white photographs, many of them of young men in American uniforms. There were also, he could see at a glance, a few photos of the base he had visited this afternoon.

"Wow, these are amazing," he said as he picked up two of the base photographs.

"I really wasn't supposed to take those," Peggy smiled as she saw which two pictures had grabbed his interest, "security and such. But like I said, I did have a few friends from the base, enough at least for them not to think I was a Nazi spy."

There were a few other general photos from the air field, good enough to show Chris what it had looked like in its heyday. There was even one of base operations, allowing him to clearly read the faded words that had eluded him earlier. Also mixed in with the photographs were a couple of uniform patches and various metal insignia, doubtlessly souvenirs she'd been given to remember people by.

The bulk of the photographs appeared to have been taken in a pub, which Chris assumed was the Bell and Candle. An assumption that was confirmed when he picked up a group photo which had been taken of an air crew posing in front of it.

"That was Captain Walsh and the crew of the Mother's Rose," Peggy said as she looked over his shoulder at the picture, "all fine lads. They went down over Hamburg just a few weeks after that was taken."

Even though it had happened before he'd even been born, the thought of these men being dead saddened Chris. Many of them didn't look that much older than he did; two looked even younger. Somehow, knowing that Peggy had been friends with them made their loss seem more than just an historical fact.

He laid the photograph back on the pile with a bit more respect than he'd picked it up, exchanging it for a few other shots showing airmen having a good time in the pub. Peggy was in a number of the pictures, a younger version of her than in the photo on the mantle. There was always at least one man in uniform on her arm, either an officer or an enlisted man.

"I guess people were glad to have the American Army here in England after fighting alone for so long," Chris said, remembering his high school history.

"Some did, some not so much so," Peggy smiled.

That put a confused look on Chris's face.

"There's a famous line that I'm sure you've heard in regard to the American Army during its time in Britain," Peggy explained. "It had a few variations but essentially it said that they were "oversexed, overpaid, and over here."

Chris laughed, he had indeed come across that line in a book about the war.

"Although a few people doubtlessly meant it, most didn't feel that way about our colonial cousins," Peggy went on. "I certainly didn't."

Glancing down at the photos, Chris had no doubt of that.

"Like I said earlier, some were friends, some were more than that," Peggy added, her gaze taking on a far away look for a moment. "You have to understand, it was a very different time."

Peggy paused for a few long moments, as if was recalling a particular memory. Chis waiting patiently, not wanting to intrude on it.

"I'm not going to point any more of them out to you, but a lot of the lads in these photos never went home to their wives and girlfriends," Peggy said, a noticeable touch of sadness in her tone. "And if I was able to give them a few happy moments, what harm was there in that?"

If Chris was unsure of what those happy moments might have entailed, the question was answered in an explicit, well, at least for the time, photograph that caught his eye. In it, Peggy was standing on a table surrounded by men in uniform, a crude sign hanging from the rafters proclaiming it was New Year's Eve. All she had on was the khaki blouse from an enlisted man's dress uniform, with the buttons all undone to reveal much of her breasts. Only a pair of white knickers prevented her from being even more exposed.

"Oh my, I'd forgotten that was in there," Peggy said with a gasp that didn't really seem quite genuine. "I hadn't even known that Sergeant O'Rourke had used my camera to take that picture, but when I developed the roll, I couldn't bring myself to destroy it. We had such a time of it that night."

Chris just nodded, certain that they did.

"So long ago, and yet, not as long as you might think," Peggy said as she began to gather up the photographs that Chris had already seen and dropped them back into the box. "I'm still the same person that I was back then, well, at least in mind if not body."

Again, it seemed strange to think it about someone her age, but Chris had to say that looking objectively, Peggy still had a pretty nice body. He guessed being able to look at her like that was an extension of what she had said earlier about being able to be honest with a stranger.

"So, what shall we do now?" Peggy asked as Chris handed her back the last of the photographs and she deposited it in the box, closing the lid after it.

"I don't know," Chris grinned.

"Well, I have an idea," Peggy said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I'll confess that, even if you didn't get the joke, I was at least half serious about it before, and I think I'm even more so now."

"I don't understand," Chris said.

"Looking at these photos, and remembering those days, I'm reminded that the most important lesson I learned during the war was that you have to make every day count," Peggy said, "because one of them is going to be your last."

Chris glanced at the now closed box. For a lot of those guys, that had been true.

"Well, let me just say it," Peggy said. "There's only one bed."

"Okay," Chris said slowly, a few seconds passing before he realized what she was alluding to.

"Now, this might all just be a storm in a teacup, but I think we have a connection here, or perhaps opportunity is a better word. One that we might do well to take advantage of," she said. "Of course, it would all have to stay between you, me and the gatepost, but it might be a nice memory to take home with you."

'She's really serious,' Chris thought as he looked deep into her face and saw the sincerity there, 'but she's almost three times my age."

Yet, no sooner had that thought expressed itself, than Chris also realized that it didn't carry the same weight that it might have had two weeks and a couple of thousand miles before. It was as if this whole afternoon was happening in an isolated pocket of time, with no bearing on anything that happened before or after it.

"You don't have to answer this second; think about it a bit," Peggy said. "If you find that it's something that you really have no interest in, well then, we'll just make up the couch for you and come the morning we'll head back for your bike and set you on your way."

Having said that, Peggy got up from the table, picking up the box of photographs as she did, and headed off to put them back where they came from, leaving Chris to think about her offer.

By the time she came back, his answer was already on his face. Even if it was horrible, and he really couldn't imagine it being anything remotely close to that, did he really want to look back on the way home a few days from now and wish he'd said yes?

"I take it we won't need to make up the couch then," Peggy smiled as she took in his reply.

-=-=-=-

As Chris excused himself to clean up, Peggy sat alone at the table and found herself reconsidering what she had just done. Part of her couldn't believe she had actually gone through with the idea. This wasn't 1944 and they weren't at war. But at the same time, why shouldn't she have as much fun as she could in this life? It wasn't like she'd been living a life of abstinence since Georgie had passed, but there was a big difference between sharing an afternoon romp with someone her age and one with a boy barely into adulthood, only a few years older than her son.

Still, the idea of a young man in her bed again was intoxicating, the memories of youth having come flooding back with the old photos. She'd often thought that by modern standards, the number of men that she'd entertained probably wouldn't seem all that excessive. Especially if you didn't count the ones she'd brought satisfaction to with her hand or mouth, something she'd discovered that many young women now considered more foreplay than actual sex.

That had also been the judgement of the woman who had first introduced her to that sort of thing, a French refugee that her uncle had hired to help at the pub. In her own way, Peggy had done her duty for King and Country, and if she'd managed to find her own enjoyment in it too, well, so much the better. She'd led a faithful life since then, at least from the time the minister had pronounced them man and wife to the time another had dropped a handful of dirt atop her husband's coffin.

"Peggy?" Chris said for the second time, not having gotten a response from the first when he'd reentered the room.

The second time snapped her out of her reflections and she flashed Chris a smile as she turned her attention in his direction. She stood up to face him, and as she did, caught sight of something that dispelled any second thoughts she might have had. Even from across the room, she could see that the boy already had a first-class hard-on, one that the idea of being with her had brought about. What more did she need to know that this was the right thing to do?

"Shall we?" she asked, reaching out to take his hand in hers.

-=-=-=-

"Oh ... my ... God!" Chris moaned as he felt Peggy's mouth once more wrap around his cock and slide it down her throat.

He'd had a blow job before, but nothing that felt like what he was getting now. Peggy had wasted no time after leading him into her bedroom, kissing him with an intensity that proved that age is indeed just a number and then pressing him down onto the mattress.

She'd leaned down over him and, after deftly undoing his shorts, pulled them and his briefs down to his ankles, the sudden absence of restraint causing his cock to spring up to attention. Extending her tongue as far out as it would go, she ran the flat of it up his length, leaving a wet trail from the bottom of his balls to the tip of his crown. Then she did it again, this time taking the tip between her lips for a few long moments before letting it fall free. Finally, she took hold of the base of his cock with the fingers of both hands and guided it deep into her mouth.

Slowly, expertly, she moved her head downward, swallowing half his length with little effort, exhibiting a technique she'd first learned over a decade before he'd been born. As she always did, she thanked Brigitte Martin, with whom she'd shared a room over the pub, for opening her eyes to the delightful practice.

Gently picking up her pace, she took a bit more with each repetition, until all of him was inside her. Chris knew he wasn't porn star material, but he'd never had anyone take more than half his length. The sensation of her wet mouth against his sensitive flesh was nearly indescribable.

Letting his cock slide out of her mouth, Peggy gently ran her right hand up and down its length, lowering her head at the same time as to allow her to slide her tongue across the underside of his balls, then slip them one at a time into her mouth. She did this for a few minutes, then again worked her way upward to take his length deep once more.

Wrapping the fingers of both hands tightly around the base of his cock, she began to frantically pump it in and out of her mouth, using her tongue to caress the underside of it. Vibrant ripples of pleasure surged across Chris's body, slowly building in intensity as he rode down the path to orgasm. A path that looked to prove unexpectedly short indeed.

Realizing how close he was, and not ever having known a girl who hadn't wanted him to pull out beforehand, Chris tried to do just that. Only to be pushed back down with surprising force as Peggy instead increased her efforts, which came to fruition short moments later when Chris's cock exploded with dynamic force, filling her mouth and throat with the fruits of his climax. Draining his last drop, the older woman didn't stop sucking until she finally felt his cock begin to soften in her mouth.

With one hand continuing to stroke his cock, Peggy lifted herself upward once more, bringing her mouth to his and sliding her tongue past his lips, deep into his mouth. That the slippery whiteness still on her tongue was his own cum should've freaked Chris out, but curiously enough, that fact didn't even register on him until much, much later.

"Enjoy that?" Peggy asked as she shared a second, less intense kiss.

"Immensely," came Chris's single word answer.

"Good," Peggy smiled, "because we're just beginning and it's only going to get better."

She climbed off the bed and began to slowly undo her housedress, inviting Chris to make himself more comfortable as well. He proceeded to do so, but while shedding his shirt and shorts, his eyes never left Peggy. Her simple outfit had a long front row of buttons that ran nearly its entire length, each one of which she opened with deliberate slowness. By the time the younger man had rid himself of the last of his accoutrements, she was only half way down the line.

Chris had never been one to pay much attention to older women, the notable exception of course being actresses he'd seen in movies or on television, some of whom had even been around Peggy's age. Not that he'd admit it, but he did have the occasional fantasy about some of them. The woman whose body was now being revealed before him didn't compare to those women on the screen, but then again, it was highly unlikely that he'd get a blow job from one of them - or the promise of more to come.

As Peggy's dress opened to her waist, Chris's eyes widened at the sight of her now fully displayed breasts. They were as big as Kathy McNamara's, he thought, remembering the most endowed girl in his high school's senior class, and Kathy, everyone knew because she made no secret of it, measured thirty-eight inches. Peggy's breasts weren't as firm as the high school girl's, but Chris wasn't about to complain. The bottom buttons now gave way at a quicker pace, leaving the dress on the floor in short order. Chris's gaze didn't follow it, however, focused instead on the thick bush of hair covering the mound between her legs. Hair that matched the mix on her head.