Like Father Like Son Ch. 05

He led her towards the bed, yanking back the covers with one hand, eyes never leaving her face. She was flushed and her nostrils flared and Phillip saw the faint thrill of a pulse fluttering at her neck. Her pupils were enormous, fathomless dark pools that drew him and sapped every ounce of strength from his body. She watched him remove his shirt. She was struck by the contrast between the weathered tan of his face and arms and the milky whiteness of the rest. Somehow this made him look more vulnerable, less aggressively male, and she was glad of it. She knelt to pull off one gleaming boot and sat down with a surprised bump as it came off with a rush after the initial resistance. Her laugh was a merry sound, like summer birdsong in his ears. She took off the remaining boot more carefully, balancing on her haunches and looking up at him with shining eyes. Something in that look released the desire in him and he felt himself becoming erect.

Bethan stepped back, suddenly flustered. Phillip stood and peeled away the tight breeches, tugging down his underwear as he did so. His erect penis sprang free, jutting from the bush of hair, darker against the white of his belly. She could not restrain the involuntary gasp. It looked huge! But, somehow, it no longer threatened her. She fixed her eyes on his and summoned every ounce of her determination. She was scarcely aware of what she was doing as she struggled with the hooks and buttons that held her clothes in place. She shrugged out of her dress and it was Phillip’s turn to be enthralled as he saw the slight swaying motion of her full breasts as she rolled her shoulders.

Still holding his gaze, she stooped and unrolled the silk stockings that encased her legs. A sudden feeling of shyness overwhelmed her and she turned her back at the last to remover her camisole, blushing scarlet to the roots of her hair. Hesitantly, she turned back, arms crossed over her now naked breasts. He saw a hint of dark shadow at the junction of her thighs beneath the white silk knickers edged with embroidered pale blue flowers. She took a deep breath and let her arms fall her side, looking anxiously at him for any signs of disappointment. Phillip was lost in rapturous wonder. He had never seen anything that moved him so. He worshipped her silently with his eyes. Her breasts were firm and creamy-white, each tipped with a small, brown coronet. With a final flourish of something close to defiance, she stepped out of the last remaining guardian of her modesty and stood physically, and emotionally, naked before him.

He reached for her with outstretched arms and she flew to him. Something like a moan escaped him as he drew her down to lie beside him. She clung to him, almost cowering against the pale hardness of his body; one leg flung across his two, breasts pressed against his chest. He raised her face and kissed her with all the love that he could summon from the depths of his soul. He could feel her trembling and the warmth of her rapid breathing on his neck. Every sense seemed heightened, almost to the point of agony. He allowed the sensation of her skin against his to flood through him. Each contact was imbued with a rich sweetness of its own, as if the very essence of life was concentrated where they touched.

Very gently, and with infinite tenderness, he rolled her onto her back. His kisses wandered where his eyes had rested; gentle, sucking kisses that sent jolting sensations through her. Panic returned and she wanted to rise up, to run away, but the insistent lips trailed cold fire across her skin, giving birth to newer, less familiar feelings. Her brain raced while her body acquiesced, moving languorously under his touch. Her mind screamed ‘No’ and ‘Yes’ with equal measure. He was kissing her nipples now, and bright flames danced across her, pulsing down her spine and settling in her groin.

Then she felt his fingers, insistent, searching, and he touched her core. She jumped, startled and ablaze. His mouth was on the soft roundness of her belly and he breathed the scent of her arousal, salt and tangy. Then his tongue was in her and she stiffened in shock. He backed away slightly to plant a row of kisses on her thighs and she started to breathe again. Her mind seemed to have floated free and she thought could see them lying entwined, as if looking from a distance, far above the bed. Something snapped inside her head and conscious thought fled as his tongue slipped into her once more. Her fingers curled into his hair, unsure of whether to pull him away or urge him further in. A long, low sound rose out of her; a primordial sound, ancient as time. She stood at the edge of the void, blood pounding in her ears, breath coming in harsh panting gasps.
Then she was over the edge, swirling away, a mote in the cosmos. She was not aware of the arching of her back or the rolling undulation of her hips. She did not hear his cry of joy; could not feel the hands grasping her buttocks, lifting her up as he pressed her to his eager mouth. She rode the lightning, feeling only the pulsating ecstasy keeping perfect time with the beating of her heart.

She became aware of his weight, moving above and over her and the slow glide of his body as he his lips traced a return journey of kisses. Each press of his lips sent tingles through the sensitised nerve fibres. When she finally opened her eyes she could see his face was alight with love. She was floating now. Little aftershocks of pleasure still made her gasp. She sensed heat and pressure at the junction of her thighs and her eyes went wide as she felt the first presence of that loving intrusion. She bit her lip, tensing in anticipation of the pain to come and he hesitated, torn between need and concern for her. Her hands went to the hard muscle of his buttocks and she lent him encouragement. He slipped a little further into her. She felt a delicious fullness punctuated by a stab of pain, sharp as grief, and then he was moving within her.

She was filled with love for him. It transcended the discomfort. His movements were gentle, controlled. The pain receded slightly but she still felt raw. The last mists of her own pleasure dissipated. He thrust faster, his breathing quickened and his muscles rippled under her fingers. Instinctively, she urged him on, ignoring the scratchy irritation, lost in her desire to please, to give herself to him utterly. His whole body went rigid and he gave a sharp cry that was a mixture of wonder and release and a deep sense of contentment surged through her as she looked at his contorted face. He collapsed upon her with a shuddering sigh and she held him, crooning softly, rocking her body against his. They lay joined together for a while, until his wilting penis slipped from the slick embrace and he rolled onto his back.

“ I love you, Bethan.”

“And I love you.”

“Was it all right for you? Did it hurt so very much?”

“No so much. And it was wonderful. I’d never dreamed it could be – you know, so beautiful.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, truly. I love you, Phillip. I want to be a wife to you. It felt so, I don’t know, so right to have you there inside me. That’s part of being in love, isn’t it?”

“It felt so right to be in you, to feel you all around me like that, it was the most amazing feeling ever; like coming home for the very first time in my life.”

She smiled at his words and the strong feeling of pride they awoke in her. Now she really was his wife, his woman. And he was her man.

********************

February and March 1916 The Fighter Pilot

The four days flashed past. All of the plans for sightseeing and visits to the theatre vanished as there was little else they wanted to do but simply be with each other. They made love several times each day; on waking, in the afternoons and then again at night. Bethan endured the residual soreness but it prevented her from reaching true fulfilment when Phillip was inside her. He pleasured her in other ways and secretly blessed again his chance encounter with Anne-Marie. Without her gentle teaching, he admitted to himself, it would have been hopeless. Bethan grew in confidence as a lover. She opened up to him, blossoming and unfolding. On the couple of occasions that she was too sore to take him inside, she used her hands, experimenting with different caresses, playing with him as if he was a musical instrument. He lay quiescent under her touch, glorying in the beautiful creature who loved him and made love to him with such thrilling, tender intensity.

Then it was time for them to part once more. Bethan returned to Bentley Hall and Phillip made his way to Gloucestershire to join the training squadron. Rendcombe was a hive of activity. A new fighter Squadron was being formed with SE5s and a bomber squadron, just re-equipped with DH4s, was preparing to leave for France. The first four Bristol F2s had been delivered and another four were awaited eagerly. Bad weather prevented much flying but on the couple of occasions Phillip did get airborne, he was delighted with the Bristol’s performance. It was a big aeroplane, almost exactly the same size as the DH4 bombers with a wingspan of nearly forty feet. The engine was a Rolls Royce Falcon, which produced 190 horsepower, making it the most powerful machine Phillip had encountered to date. It was also the heaviest aeroplane to fly. He soon appreciated the evaluation pilot’s comments about circus strongmen. The ‘Biff,’ as the new plane was soon christened, was a handful. Phillip couldn’t help contrasting it with the lightness of the Sopwith ‘Pup.’ Still, he thought, it was strong, fast and responsive and one did get used to the heavy controls after a little while.

The camp was buzzing with rumours of a new offensive in the spring. The more experienced aircrew greeted this news with barely concealed cynicism. Another offensive meant another period of intense air activity, as the RFC would be tasked with keeping the German reconnaissance machines away while carrying out their own photographic and artillery-spotting duties. It was obviously not going to be the best of times to return to the front. Hours were spent discussing how the new Bristol should operate in a fight. It was armed with a fixed, forward-firing Vickers machine gun and either a single or double Lewis for the observer. The body of opinion appeared to be that it was a fast two seater and should fight as such.

The favoured tactic was the so-called ‘Lufberry Circle.’ The two-seaters would circle almost nose to tail, relying on the combined firepower of the Lewis guns to keep the enemy at bay. Phillip found this thinking slightly puzzling. The Vickers machine guns would be of no use in such a formation and it was the Vickers guns, which had the greater rate of fire and carried the most ammunition. He was prepared to accept that he had no experience of flying a Scout in combat and that all his experience as an observer had been in relatively ponderous aircraft. It appeared to Phillip that too many of the pilots were ignoring the agility of the Bristol, accepting it as a merely another two-seater, albeit faster than most. He mentioned the comments of the Evaluation Flight pilots at Hern but his intervention was given an airy dismissal.

At the beginning of February, Phillip received formal notification of his posting to 48 Squadron. The squadron was to be re-equipped with the new fighters as soon as production of the Rolls Royce engines caught up. Phillip was delighted to find that his Flight Commander was to be none other than William Leefe-Robinson, the pilot whose victory over the German Airship Phillip had witnessed the previous year. If Phillip expected greater tactical awareness, he was to be disappointed. Leefe-Robinson also subscribed to the ‘Lufberry Circle’ tactics and was firmly of the opinion that the Bristol was too big to be ‘chucked about like a Pup.’

The weather in February was uncharacteristically settled and 48 Squadron were able to fly almost every day. The squadron practised formation flying until Phillip was seeing Bristol Fighters in his sleep. The Bristol proved to be a very easy aircraft to fly, beautifully balanced and stable. There was a general belief that it was too big to be structurally strong and there were strict orders about avoiding violent manoeuvres. Phillip found this very much at odds with what he had heard from the evaluation pilots but his natural diffidence ensured that he kept his thoughts to himself.

The pilots often flew together, one flying the plane and the other acting as the observer. This soon gave rise to a kind of daredevil game. The ‘observer’ would climb out of his cockpit, edge forward until he could reach in the pilot’s cockpit and take the joystick. The pilot would then climb out the other side and edge backwards to take the place of the observer, leaving this latter to climb into the front seat and take over as pilot. It became something of a competition to see how many times two aviators could swap places during the course of a single flight. The game would probably have gone indefinitely had not Wilkins and Cavanaugh overdone it. They quite simply forgot which one of them had originally been the designated pilot. They took off with Cavanaugh flying but landed with Wilkins in the front seat. The eagle-eyed Leefe-Robinson spotted this instantly and then there was some explaining some to do! Squadron Standing Orders were amended to ban the dangerous practice with any further occurrences punishable by dismissal from the squadron.

Phillip was finding it difficult to fit in. Even though he was only twenty-two, he felt like an old man beside the youngsters in the squadron. Also, he was still only a lieutenant, despite having been in the war from the start. This was due to his transfer from the infantry – had he stayed with his regiment he would almost certainly be commanding a company by then – and the fact that he had been an observer, rather than a pilot. With 14 Squadron, there had been a greater sense of teamwork. 48 Squadron seemed to have more than its fair share of powerful egos. The senior members were very experienced pilots and often, like Leefe-Robinson, highly decorated. It did bother Phillip that few appeared to have any experience of conditions in France. Leefe-Robinson had spent the past year in a home defence squadron and, for all his obvious gallantry, he appeared to Phillip to be out of touch with current conditions at the front.

Phillip’s greatest frustration stemmed from being viewed as ultra cautious. In his own mind, he felt that he was the only one who was prepared to take a chance on the Bristol’s true potential. One day he was slated to fly with Leefe-Robinson acting as observer and he resolved to bring matters to a head. He climbed to 12,000 feet and cut the throttle, pulled back on the stick to bring the plane to the point of stalling, and then deliberately crossed the controls to initiate a spin. The Bristol snapped into a vicious spin almost instantly but recovered equally quickly once Phillip centred the controls and applied the power.

For ten exhilarating minutes, Phillip threw the machine into every aerobatic manoeuvre he could think of, looping, rolling and spinning. He was concentrating so hard he was unaware of the storm of protest coming from Leefe-Robinson in the rear seat. When the angry voice finally did make itself heard, Phillip was ordered to land forthwith.

Leefe-Robinson clambered down, white faced with fury.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing? Are you a secret Hun, trying to kill us all?”

“I was just trying…”

“I know what you were ‘just trying,’ Welford-Barnes, you were trying to make me look a fool, weren’t you?”

Anger rose hot inside him and Phillip took a step towards his Flight Commander.

“It seems to me that you can manage that without any assistance from me. I was merely trying to demonstrate what this machine is really able to do. I was hoping to convince you that it is perfectly strong enough to be flown like that. I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with it at all.”

“Oh, don’t you, now? And precisely when did you become an expert on aircraft design? Or are you an engineer, perhaps? No? Didn’t think so. Now listen here and listen good. Until someone sees fit to give you command of a Flight, you will obey orders. You will fly in the manner prescribed by your superiors. If there is any repetition of this morning’s antics, I’ll have you posted out so fast your feet won’t touch the ground. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly. I regret to say, however, that does not prevent you from being wrong. I only hope we all live long enough for you to find out. Good day to you!”

Leefe-Robinson stared after Phillip’s retreating back. Had this reaction come from another pilot, he might have dismissed it out of hand. Phillip had always struck him as a serious type; keen enough but no madcap. Now, as his anger began to cool, he started to think about what Phillip had done with the Bristol. Perhaps it was stronger than they all thought, perhaps Welford-Barnes was right? But how could he be? Two-seaters could simply not be flung around like Scouts, particularly two-seaters that big. Maybe he should have a word with someone at the Evaluation Flight. Yes, that was it. The next opportunity he got, he would do just that. Funny it should be Welford-Barnes, though; he was normally as quiet as a mouse.

On the positive side, Phillip was able to get away and spend a couple of weekends with Bethan and they renewed their joy of each other whenever the chance arose. His happiness seemed complete when he was granted a three-day leave prior to the squadron’s departure for France. Once again, Sister Hallam came up trumps and Bethan travelled to London to meet him for the whole of the leave.

She was waiting in the hastily arranged hotel room when he arrived, a picture of radiance and happiness.

“Oh Phillip, it’s so wonderful to see you!”

He silenced her with the first of many kisses. She struggled and pushed him away laughing.

“Plenty of time for that later. I’ve got the most exciting news. No, Phillip, I mean it; listen to me, now. I’m going to have a baby!”

Surprise, wonder and concern chased each other across his features as he stared at her.

“Oh, Bethan, is it true? Are you sure? Are you feeling all right? Oh, I say, how absolutely splendid. Uh, when? I mean when did we? Oh, you know what I mean.”

“On our honeymoon, of course. I bet it was the very first time, wasn’t it? Are you pleased?”

“Of course! It couldn’t be more topping! But how about you? D’you feel well, er, not getting sick or anything?”

“I feel absolutely wonderful, darling. Never better. Oh, I get a little queasy in the morning but I don’t think I’ve felt so alive before. I love it!”

They went out to celebrate that evening and returned, clinging to each other, at about midnight. Phillip was feeling the effects of the champagne he had ordered. Bethan had scarcely touched her single glass and it had fallen to him to do the vintage justice. He climbed into bed and waited for her. His head was spinning slightly but the euphoria of the evening had not deserted him. He counted himself the luckiest man alive. He was somewhat shocked when Bethan slipped naked in beside him.

“Oh, I say, old girl, what about the baby?”

“There’s silly you are, Phillip. I’m only two months gone, we won’t hurt him, you know.”

“Uh, are you sure? I mean, is that right. We won’t hurt the little fellow?”

“Of course I’m sure, now come here.”

Phillip moved over her. He carefully inspected her stomach, as if he expected her to be bulging already. She laughed at the puzzled look on his face.

“I won’t really show for a little while yet.”

He grinned, a little sheepish.

“Well, it’s all a complete mystery to me. Good job you know what you’re doing.”