The Boxer’s Tale

1939 was a difficult year for everyone in the United Kingdom. Much of the year had been filled with the diplomatic footwork which led up to the declaration of war in September. During the autumn thousands of kids were evacuated from London to the countryside to protect them from harm. The winter of 1939 was the period dubbed as “the phoney war” and many kids returned to London when the expected bombing of London didn’t materialise. The problem of the safety of children nevertheless remained a concern in the mind of many parents, as I was soon to discover.

I’m Jimmy Hudson and I was a sixteen year old lad in 1939. My family had a small terraced house in Southwark. There was mum and dad and my two year old twin sisters Val and Shirley. The girls were an unexpected “surprise” for mum and dad – they had given up any hope of any more children after me. Dad had been a railwayman, an honest, hard working guy. I was a typical London kid, hard as nails and always ready for a spot of bother. I was reasonably good at school stuff but my real love was boxing. I was a handy lightweight and had won a few local championships. I spent as much of my spare time as possible down the local gym. I loved the feeling of being strong and fit.

The biggest thing in my life was my family. It was in fact endemic in our part of London. Families stuck together and so did neighbours. Although I was a bit of a handful I would never do anything to give my parents a hard time.

One day in March 1940 Dad signed up. As a railwayman he was in a reserved occupation and didn’t have to sign up, however he wanted to ‘do his bit’. When I got home from school that afternoon Mum and Dad were sat in the kitchen. Mum had been crying.

“You’re going to be evacuated, Jimmy,” Dad told me.

I had heard about the evacuation at school. Because the government were expecting London to be bombed it had been decided that all children should be evacuated to the country where they would be safe. Except that I didn’t want to be evacuated. I didn’t want to go to the country, London was where I belonged. Dad knew this and wasted no time to put me straight.

“You’re going and that is that.”

I didn’t argue, Dad was even tougher than me.

“What about Val and Shirley?” I asked.

“They’ll stay with Mum, they’re a little too young to be evacuated.” Dad told me. 

I was horrified. The idea of being separated from my family and being dumped somewhere away from London was anathema to me. Quite frankly I was terrified. A tear ran down my cheek. Dad spotted it and put his arm around me.

“Listen son, it’s for your own safety. The government think that London will get bombed and they want to protect all the kids. I’m going away soon and your mum needs to know you’re safe.”

“And who’ll look after mum and the girls?” I asked.

“The other families in the road. You know how we all stick together. I really need to know that you can do this for us, if I have to fight I don't want to have to worry about you lot as well, OK?”

“OK dad,” I replied. I wasn’t happy but what could I do?

I went out down to the gym meet the lads and give them the news. To my surprise I wasn’t alone – three others had been given the same news – bummer.

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A letter in an official looking brown envelope came two days later. Dad read it and gave me the news.

“You’re to be evacuated to a place called Long Stretton near Cambridge. You’ll be staying with a Mr and Mrs Etheridge. You catch a train at nine o’ clock from Liverpool Street station next Wednesday.”

So there is was, in two days I would begin my exile.

As always the case, the time passed like lightning and that Friday I found myself with my family on the station. All my clothes were packed in a single suitcase. A policemen stood with a bloke in a suit the end of the platform. Dad told them my name and the bloke wrote something on his clip board. He then attached a label to my lapel. It had “Hudson – Long Stretton, Etheridge” typed on it.

“Third carriage from the front,” he told dad, pointing at the train. 

The platform was packed with children and their parents. While younger kids ran around playing noisily the older children, who understood what was happening, looked upset. We walked to the front of the train. Two of the compartments in the third carriage had stickers on them saying “Long Stretton”.

Dad opened the door to one compartment and put my case on the rack. The compartment was filling up so I quickly grabbed a seat by the window. I stood by the window not knowing what to say to mum and dad. Dad tried making small talk and mum stood silently, looking too upset to speak. While I didn’t want to leave, I wished that the train would leave quickly so that we could end the agonising farewell.

Soon the train guard began pacing up the platform shouting for everyone to get on board. I kissed mum and the girls and shook dad’s hand.

“Take care son and do us proud,” he told me with a catch in his throat.

“Don’t forget to write,” mum told me. There were tears in her eyes.

I couldn’t speak, not trusting myself not to cry.

He blew his whistle, waved his flag and the train began to move. I waved as my family slowly receded into the crowd of people. In my heart I wondered when or if I would see them again.

I sat down and looked around the compartment. In all there were eight of us. It looked like I was the oldest with the other kids seeming to range from 5 or 6 up to maybe 12. One or two looked shell-shocked, three kids were crying and the others were squealing with excitement. I looked out the window and watched the scenery change as we passed through the outskirts of London and into the country. The train didn’t stop, rushing through stations such as Tottenham, Waltham Cross and St Albans, none of which I recognised. I had only been outside of London once when we went on a day trip to Southend. All these places were new to me.

After quite a time the train began stopping at stations. I looked out the window to see groups of kids getting off the train to be greeted by a policeman and a group of adults. Finally we reached Long Stretton station. A policemen came up to our carriage and opened the door.

“Out you get, and don’t forget your bags,” he said in a kindly voice.

I helped him unload the bags belonging to the younger kids and finally found myself on the platform. My first reaction was how small the station was. It had only a single brick building on the single platform. As far as I could see in all directions were just fields.

The policeman began calling out names from a list he had. As their names were called the kids were approached by adults from the crowd on the platform. Finally my name was called out and I stepped forward to be met by a man and woman. The man took my suitcase and we left the station. They led me over to a horse drawn cart. I noticed as we walked that Mr Etheridge had a painful limp, his face twitching in pain as he took each step.

After he had put my suitcase on the cart he turned to me and held out his hand.

“Welcome James,” he spoke with a strange accent. “I’m Arthur Etheridge”

I shook his hand. His grip was firm and his hand calloused from hard work. The man was just a little taller than me with a wiry but strong looking body and a tanned, weather beaten face. He wore plain, slightly worn clothes.

“My friends call me Jimmy, sir,” I told him.

“No need for the ‘sir’, Jimmy, call me Arthur.” He smiled. “This here is my wife Mollie.”

His wife was a short, plump woman, with long curly brown hair and a red smiling face. She wore a blue, floral dress with a low cut neck which revealed her full cleavage.

She stepped over, gave me a kiss full on the lips and hugged me to her plump body. She had a pleasant warm smell of carbolic soap. I found the experience very pleasant.

“Welcome Jimmy,” she said after releasing me. “Hop on the cart and we’ll go home.”

I wasn’t a great judge but I guessed that Arthur was a lot older than Mollie. I guessed that she was in her early forties and he was a good ten years older.

The station lay on the outskirts of the village.

Arthur clicked his tongue. “Walk on Jess,” he told the horse and the cart nudged into life towards the main street.

“We live a mile outside the village on the Cambridge Road,” he told me.

The village seemed deserted with just one or two people walking and a woman riding a bike. There were no cars.

“You’ll no doubt find things here a little more quiet than in London,” Mollie spoke, seeming to read my mind. “We don’t have many cars here, in fact only the doctor has a car.”

The village had an almost magical atmosphere which was so different to London. There is something special about the English countryside in late summer. Its difficult to say what but it’s a combination of the unique rural architecture of the English village, the lush green landscape and the tranquillity. It is something to be experienced – it cannot be easily described. To my surprise I felt uplifted. Although diametrically opposed to London I felt ‘at home’.

The cart left the village and I was struck by the panorama. East Anglia is a notoriously flat part of England and in the clear light I could see for miles.

“On a good day like today, you can see Fred Parkinson’s windmill ten miles away,” Arthur told me, pointing to the right.

Sure enough I could see the windmill clearly on the skyline.

“What do they use the windmill for?” I asked.

“For grinding corn,” Arthur smiled at my naivety.

After about a mile we turned off down a track which led to the farm. At the entrance the was a sign with ‘Home Farm’ painted in white. 

‘Home farm’ comprised of a large brick house which faced onto a yard surrounded by buildings. What struck me most was how neat and tidy the farm was. I had always had this image in my mind that farms were messy places with animals all over the place.

“What do you grow?” I asked Arthur.

“Mostly its an arable farm. We grow wheat and barley. We also have a small herd of cows for milk and meat. I’ll show you around later.”

We pulled up outside the house and we went in. Above the door was a large brick with the date 1810 carved in it. The door led directly into the kitchen. It was huge! I had lived all my life in a small terraced house with a bare minimum of rooms. I knew no better and to me the farm house was palatial in size. 

Arthur had work to do and left Mollie the task of showing me the house. A passage led from the kitchen to a dining room and sitting room. Mollie led the way up a flight of stairs to the first floor. On the first floor were two bedrooms, the master bedroom and another containing a double bed and a bathroom. In the main bedroom I saw an amazing sight – a huge wooden double bed.

Mollie saw my surprise and explained.

“My dad he were in the army in the first war. He met and married a French girl and after the war he had worked on her father’s farm for a short time. His father in law gave the couple a double bed as a wedding present and he brought it back with him when he decided to come home. The two of them died in the flu epidemic just after the war.”

Another set of stairs led up and Mollie again led the way. We were in the roof space. The area had been split into two rooms separated by a wooden partition. One room was for me. It had been furnished very comfortably with a single bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers. Being in the roof, the ceiling sloped on one side. From the window I had an excellent view across the farm and down to a river.

“Joan and Mary, my daughters, sleep in the other room,” Mollie explained. “They’re at school today so you’ll meet them later. They’re sixteen so I suppose they’re about your age. Oh, by the way, they are identical twins so you might find it difficult to remember which one is which.”

My overall impression of the house was that it was decorated and furnished in a pleasant but simple way. The furniture was plain but well made. Everywhere was tidy and welcoming.

“You unpack and come down to the kitchen when you’re finished. You must be starving.” Mollie told me.

I realised I was hungry and I wasted no time in stowing my clothes. I put my empty suitcase under the bed and went downstairs.

Arthur and Mollie were sat at the table. There was bread, butter and cheese on the table along with a pot of tea. The task of cutting the home made bread always fell to Arthur who deftly sliced the loaf into inch thick chunks with a long knife. The soft bread, salty butter and strong cheese along with Mollie’s sweet apple chutney was amazing. I had never tasted food like it.

“Come on lad,” let me show you around the farm.” Arthur said once we had finished eating.

For the next hour or so we walked the farm while Arthur pointed out the main features and bombarded me with facts. The farm had been in his family for 200 years and occupied 150 acres. It was roughly rectangular stretching down to the river. Apart from the main crops he had half a dozen pigs and a number of hens. This meant that he produced his own pork, eggs as well as butter from the cows. Mollie had a large vegetable area and some fruit trees making them self sufficient in fruit and vegetables. Just down the river was a large patch of ill-kept land. Arthur explained that it belonged to Harold Mays, his neighbour. Although Harold and his son owned the farm they were the worst kind of farmers, preferring to do as little as possible to cultivate and nurture the land. Peter, the son, was an ignorant bully who regularly got into trouble. It was a tragedy that such a good piece of land belonged to such wasters. Arthur admitted that he would have bought the land had he got the money.

There was a large coppice down by the river which provided welcome shade from the sun. We sat down on the bank and watched the river flow by.

“So Jimmy, tell me about yourself and your family.”

I realised that they knew as little about me as I did about them. I gave a potted history of my life and my family. 

“So you like boxing eh? That needs you to be fit and strong.”

I agreed and told him that I didn’t know how I’ll manage without the gym.

“Don’t worry about that, lad.” Arthur replied. “If you’re happy to help around the farm when you’re not at school you’ll find plenty of work to keep you fit.”

Arthur pulled his pipe from his pocket, filled it and struck a match. I watched, fascinated, as he puffed clouds of sweet smelling smoke. Neither mum nor dad smoked and I had never wanted to start.

“So your dad’s signed up, eh? What regiment?”

“The infantry,” I told him.

“Hmm, a dangerous job that. They get all the rough jobs. I just hope this war isn’t as bad as the last one.”

That was a bit of a conversation stopper so we contented ourselves watching a couple of mallard ducks on the river. 

After a while Arthur tapped his pipe against his boot and stood up.

“It’s nearly tea time, let’s head back lad.”

When we got back to the house I went and got washed. I went back down to the kitchen to see if I could help with tea when the peace was shattered by the sound of running and laughter as two girls ran in. 

“Is he here then?” one of them called out.

“Yes dear,” Mollie replied. “Jimmy meet Joan and Mary.“

“Hello,” they spoke almost in unison.

“I’m Joan”, one said.

“And I’m Mary.”

I was unused to meeting girls and didn’t really know what to do.

“P…pleased to meet you,” I stammered out, blushing.

The girls giggled.

I had a problem. The girls were the prettiest I had seen. Almost small versions of their mother they had long, curly, brunette hair which cascaded round their faces. They had green eyes which gleamed with wild amusement. Their bodies had a slight plumpness which I found beguiling. Their breasts were full and moved with a fascinating and mysterious fashion. I was in love but the problem was the girls were identical and you can’t be in love with two girls. Can you?

“Go get changed girls, teas ready,” Mollie told them. The girls stampeded upstairs laughing.

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The two girls kept up lively chatter through tea, telling their parents about what they got up to at school and all the latest gossip. Rather than feeling left out I was content to eat quietly absorbing all that was said.

Arthur left the house after tea to do another couple of hours work and the girls went upstairs to do their homework. That left me at a loose end. Having spent time talking to Arthur it seemed a good idea that I got to know Mollie better. Much to her surprise I offered help her clear up after tea. While she washed the dishes I dried.

“So what do you think of my girls then?” she asked.

“Er… I think they’re really nice,” I replied weakly. “They seem to be full of fun.” I had already noticed a particular “joie de vivre” that the girls shared. They were almost constantly smiling or laughing.

“They’ve always been like that. Because they are identical twins they’re very close. In fact they are the best of friends.” Mollie explained. “They have an empathy which no outsider can imagine. They love life and it rubs off on everyone else.”

“Oh I should also warn you that although there isn’t an ounce of malice in either them they love playing practical jokes on people.”

We slipped into an easy silence as we finished the washing up. Finally Mollie dried her hands, turned and gave me a big hug.

“I hope you’ll enjoy your time here and try not to worry about your family. We have a simple life here but it’s fulfilling and full of love. I hope you can share in that.”

It was getting dark when Arthur returned to house, got washed and changed.

“We have a little ritual,” he told me. “Every evening we enjoy spending a couple of hours together in the living room. We sit, read or listen to the radio. It’s our time together and helps relax us for bed.”

Arthur settled down in an armchair and turned on the radio. Mollie and I sat on the couch. She began knitting and I contented myself with listening to the radio. A little while later the girls came in, sat down and began to read. At around nine-thirty Joan, or was it Mary – I couldn’t tell which, went into the kitchen and made cocoa.

It had been a long day so I was content to head up to bed at ten o clock. Joan and Mary ran up ahead of me.

“’night Jimmy,” they called out and went into their room.

I undressed in the dark and was soon asleep.

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The girls had to go to school on the Thursday and Friday so I had to keep myself amused. I spent most of the days mooching around, trying to make myself useful around the place and chatting to Arthur and Mollie. 

Even in such a short time I came to two conclusions. First, while I missed my family, I didn’t miss London as much as I expected. There was a profound tranquillity about the village which struck a chord in my soul. I rapidly began to love the place.

Second, there was a remarkable integrity about Arthur and Mollie. Unlike many adults, they treated me with great respect. Every conversation was not only polite, but they behaved as though they valued my contribution, wishing to know as much about my life in London as I wanted to know about theirs. They seemed to be at peace with their lives with no sign of stress or angst.

Mollie had a tactile, affectionate nature, often giving me a warm, and very pleasant hug. 

Very quickly I grew to love these people.

“You had better make the most of these days off, my boy,” Mollie told me, “because next Monday you start at school.”

This didn’t sit too well with me. I was too old for school, I was ready for work.

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On the Friday evening after saying goodnight to all I went into my room.

Once in my room I could hear the girls giggling. As I closed the curtains I heard a sound rather like a piece of wood falling to the floor. I turned around. The partition wall was made from tongue and groove planks. One had a hole in it and on the floor was a plug of wood. The girls had pushed a loose knot hole out making a peep hole between the two rooms. I heard the girls giggling followed by frantic shushing.

“Quiet, he’ll hear you,” one girl whispered.

I’d never had a problem of shyness with my body. My training had given me a hard, muscular, body and my pecker was well above average in size. I figured that if the girls wanted to watch me undress I might as well give them a show. Acting casually I slowly removed my clothes, trying to tease the girls as much as possible. When I was down to just my underpants I turned my back to them and bent down as I pulled my pants down, giving the girls a close-up view of my crack. I stood, fully nude and turned to face them. Throughout I heard little gasps, but no more giggling. 

Pretending to scratch an itch I ran my hand over my balls and up my cock. With the friction and the knowledge that I was being watched my cock became nicely stiff. Slowly I wanked it up and down a few times bringing it to maximum size. I gave the girls a good long look at my boner before putting on my pyjamas. I hopped into bed and turned off the light.

I waited a few seconds in the dark and quietly slipped out of bed. I crept over to the peep hole and looked through. The girls were stood in the middle of their room whispering to each other. I shifted my position slightly, making a floor board creak. The girls heard the noise, stopped talking and looked towards the peephole. They grinned, realising I was there. 

They exchanged a quick whispered words and turned their backs to me. Slowly they pulled their dresses up, exposing inch by inch of pale, smooth legs.

You should perhaps understand that my experience with girls up to that time was practically zero. My boxing had occupied all my spare time leaving no time for girlfriends. I had never seen a girl naked.

My heart was pounding with excitement and anticipation as I saw more of the girls’ legs. The gorgeous dimpled area behind their knees, their plump thighs. I thought I would die with pleasure as their round rears, covered by plain white knickers, came into view. Up and up their skirts went exposing their backs and bra straps before, with a flick, the girls threw their skirts onto the floor.

Slowly they turned around. Their bodies were divine – slightly plump with gently rounded bellies and full tits. I could just make out dark shadows of hair behind their knickers. Reaching behind they unfastened their bras, dropping them to the ground. Their tits had only the slightest of droop and were a sight to behold. Smooth, ground globes capped with large, pink nipples. They ran their hands under their tits, cupping them as if to offer them to me before teasing and tweaking their nipples to stiffness. I had resumed stoking my cock, bringing it to huge erectness.

The girls faces had become flushed although I couldn’t tell whether it was from excitement or embarrassment. I suspected it was the latter. They looked at each other as if seeking reassurance and biting their lips with uncertainty they pulled down their knickers. They stood fully nude for a few seconds, their arms stretched above their heads. In that moment I knew what I liked in a woman. Both girls had heavy growths of pubic hair and full bushes in their arm pits. I noticed that one of them had a mole on her belly, just above her pubic bush. So the girls weren’t identical after all!!

Slowly they pirouetted once and then pulled on their pyjamas. Blowing me a kiss they jumped into bed and turned off the light.


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I was awoken on the Saturday morning by my bedroom door being opened and the girls shouting out.

“Come on stop being lazy and get up. There are things to do.”

Muttering darkly I got out of bed and opened the curtains. It was light outside – but only just. The sky was clear indicating that we were in for a pleasant day. I washed and dressed.

I could smell the delicious smell of frying bacon as I went downstairs and entered the kitchen. The family were sat around the table. I noticed from the clock that it was only 6-15.

“What sort of time do you call this?” I asked jokingly. “It’s still night time.”

“You’ll need to get used to getting up early in the countryside,” Mollie laughed as she placed a plate of egg and bacon in front of me.

“Joan and Mary have jobs to do at the weekend, would you mind helping them?” Arthur asked.

Given a chance to spend time with two gorgeous girls I was hardly likely to refuse!

“The first job is milking,” one of the girls told me as we walked across the yard.”

I had a problem which needed sorting out.

“Listen, you need to help me out here. I know that one of you is Joan and one is Mary but I don’t know which is which. I know one of you has a mole in an interesting place but I don’t think I can use that to identify you.”

One girl blushed and they burst out laughing. They held out their right hands. Each wore a ring on their third ring, one had a green stone and the other blue.

“Our aunt gave us the rings on our fifteenth birthday. Joan has the green one, mine is blue,” Mary explained. We always wear then so you can use them as a guide until you get to know us better.

We had reached the milk shed. A group of cows stood there waiting. Joan sat on a stool and began milking one. After a while she stopped.

“Want to try?”

I sat down and fumbled at the cow’s teats, not really knowing how to grab hold.

“Jimmy! Grab hold of them firmly. This can’t the first time you’ve touched a pair of teats, what about your girl friend’s titties, you know how to hold them!” Joan exclaimed

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Mary saw it in an instant.

“Haven’t you touched a girl’s titties?” she laughed.

“Afraid not,” is all I could reply.

“Maybe we’ll have to do something about that,” she whispered to her sister, just loud enough for me to hear.

She leant over my shoulder and moved my hands onto the cow’s teats. Finally I managed to extract some milk although the cow didn’t seem too impressed with my touch. 

Eventually we finished and we carried the buckets of milk up to the house.

“Next,” Joan announced, “dad wants us to move some bales of hay.”

We walked down the farm until we reached a large field.

“We need a pitchfork from the shed,” Joan told me, pointing at a shed the other side of the field. “Can you get it?”

“It’ll be quicker if you cut across the field,” Mary offered.

There was a single cow in the field. 

“What about the cow, won't it object to me crossing the field?” I asked.

“No! She's a friendly old thing,” the girls laughed.

I climbed over the fence and headed across. All seemed fine until I noticed the cow looking at me strangely. It turned and pawed at the ground. Suddenly I realised it was a bull, not a cow. I began to turn back as it charged at me. I could hear it pounding behind me as I sprinted. Cleared the fence with a single leap, I hit the ground with a painful thud.

Slowly I got to my feet, rubbing the dirt from my face. The bull was standing ten yards from the fence, making angry noises. The girls looked at me innocently as though butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. My instinctive reaction was to shout at them but they were so cute that I couldn’t so it. 

“Your mother warned me about you,” I muttered with mock severity.

I had to see the funny side of things, there was a lot about the country I still needed to learn. I shrugged my shoulders in resignation.

“OK, lead me to the hay bales.”


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The barn was a large wooden building with an open front. There was a neat stack of bales against one wall and roughly twenty dumped in front. The two girls grabbed hold of a bale together and struggled to lift it. After a moment they dropped it, it was my time to grin. I walked over.

“Let me try,” I said.

The girls smirked at each other implying that it was a task too difficult for one.

“Yeah, right, Mr Toughguy is going to do it on his own!”

The bale was lashed with two lengths of heavy twine. I gripped them and lifted testing the balance of the bale. The width was just right for my arm spread and I lifted it easily and put it on the stack. Girls clapped their hands in mock applause.

“Oh there is something you can do,” one of them taunted.

I pulled off my shirt and began work. As I cleared the bales, Arthur pulled a wagon up with another load. He stood by the girls watching me work. To be frank, I thoroughly enjoyed the work. My body was getting a good workout and I could feel my muscles swell and tighten. In a short time I shifted all the bales.

“You work well,” Arthur acknowledged. “We’ll make a farmer of you yet.” 

Arthur left leading the horse and cart, leaving me with the girls.

“Your body looks good,” Mary was looking at me strangely.

“Yes, sort of fit and hard,” her sister chipped in.

I picked up my shirt and walked over. I explained that my training for my sport did it.

“You’re a boxer?” Joan was surprised. “Does that mean you’re always picking fights?”

I grinned and sat down beside them.

“No, I don’t need to fight outside the ring.” I explained. “Most of the kids who pick fights think they have something to prove. I don’t. I know what I can do, I don’t need to prove myself to anyone outside the ring.”

The girls looked impressed.

We walked back to the house. I needed to wash the sweat off and it was time for dinner.

“So what are you going to do this afternoon?” Arthur asked as we ate.

“We thought we might spend some time by the river,” Joan replied.

“How about you?” Arthur asked me.

I had enjoyed the morning’s work and I felt a hankering for some serious exercise. I had brought some of my gear with me and a run seemed a good idea. It would also give me a chance to get to know the area.

“I think I’ll have a run,” I replied.

“We’ll pace you on our bikes,” Mary chipped in. “We can make sure you run hard.”

It sounded ideal, I could have my run and keep company with these two tasty girls.

I allowed my lunch to settle and got changed. Soon I was pounding down a country lane followed by the girls of their bikes. The sun was shining, the air warm. Everything was perfect. I felt strong and I felt I could run forever. After about five miles Mary called out to me.

“Hey, wonderboy, can we take a break, we’re getting tired.”

We were near a large dyke so I slowed down. We could sit on the bank. The girls leaned their bikes against the hedge and we sat down. They had put some bottles of pop in their saddle bags so we had a drink and relaxed.

“You don’t half run fast,” Mary said.

“I don’t know about that, but I really enjoy it.” I replied. “I love the feeling of my body working hard, it’s almost as good as…”

“Sex?” Joan asked.

I blushed.

“Er no, I was going to say boxing.”

“Have you had sex?” Mary asked.

I looked at her. She was sat cross-legged higher up the bank. Her skirt was lifted up and I could see her panties stretched tightly over her crotch. What’s more, she knew what I could see. I saw no point in lying.

“No, not yet, what about you?”

Joan and Mary exchanged glances.

“Now that would be telling,” they teased.

“I’ll take that as a no then?”

My eyes flicked down to Mary’s crotch. I could see little tufts of dark hair peeping out of the legs of her panties.

“Enjoying the view?” Mary asked with a grin.

“Yeah although the view last night was better.”

There was a tension in the air and I wondered where things were going. And then I knew, the girls burst into laughter.

“You didn’t look to bad either,” Joan giggled.

“Mind you, we haven’t seen any other boy nude to compare,” Mary added, also giggling.

So the girls had answered my question. They were virgins too. Three of us exchanged glances, suddenly serious. There was a tension in the air.

“You know, we always wanted to have a brother,” Mary told me.

“The boys at school are OK, but we can never have a good conversation with them. They only think about sex,” Joan continued.

“As you know, we're identical twins. That means that we came from the same egg, we have the same flesh,” Mary continued. “We have a close psychic link, we think the same thoughts, we know what each other wants to do.”

“What we're trying to say is that although we've only known you a few days, we already like you a lot. You're good fun to be with. You're the brother we always wanted.”

Good fun? Brother? I had hoped for something a lot more intimate but maybe time would change that. OK, if they wanted to make a confession I decided that perhaps I had better say something.

“I don't have much experience with girls,” I began. “So you're a bit of a mystery to me. But I have to say I enjoy your company too...”

“That's not all you enjoy,” Mary interrupted, noticing that I was still stealing peeps up her skirt.”

I grinned.

The girls extended their hands to me and grasped them in mine. Incredibly a bond of sorts had already formed between us. We all realised that things would never quite be the same again.

Looking back I find it incredible that the three of us could establish such a deep and lasting rapport after only a few days. Mary told me years later that they two of them had fallen for me the moment they met me. Although they were soul mates, they had always wanted a brother. Their mother had been pregnant a couple of years before the girls were conceived. She had miscarried what would have been their older brother.

We sat by the dyke for a while longer, enjoying the warm tranquillity and exchanging small-talk. 

“Why does Arthur walk with a limp?” I asked, voicing a question I had had since we had first met.

“About five years ago dad was helping the blacksmith shoe Jess. The smith accidentally put a nail into her foot and she kicked out, hitting dad in his private places. He had a fractured pelvis and he nearly died.” Mary explained. 

“He’s in constant pain and he sleeps in the spare bedroom so that he doesn’t disturb mum at night.” Joan continued. “He didn’t blame Jess, though, he says it was his own fault for standing behind her rear leg.”

It suddenly dawned on me how difficult it had to be for Arthur to run the farm with his disability. I resolved to help.

“So have you two got boyfriends?” I asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Well James and Michael Foster go out with us sometimes,” Mary replied. Joan giggled in a knowing way.

My heart sank, they already had boyfriends.

“But then again, we’ve known them all our lives, so I don’t know if they count as boyfriends.” Mary added.

“Well that James keeps trying to get into your knickers,” Joan giggled again.

Mary gave a snort of disgust. “I’m not giving it away that easily. Anyway, he’s sex mad. I had bruises on my tits for a week after the Christmas dance – he couldn’t keep his hands off them.”

The afternoon was drawing on so I reminded the girls that we needed to get back.

Unbelievably the run back was even more enjoyable. I felt so light that my feet that my feet hardly touched the road. 

--------------

Sunday is as much a day of work for the farmer as any other day.

“I need to dig over part of the vegetable garden today,” Arthur explained over breakfast. “Could you help?”

I welcomed the chance to work. Not only did I want to build up my body, but I also felt a need to contribute. Already I had a strong liking for the family and I wanted to repay their hospitality in any way I could. The task was quite simple. The land was to be used to sow late potatoes and needed turning over. A simple case of digging the soil – except the area was a square 100 yards by 100 yards!!

I set about the work with enthusiasm and soon began to feel the deep pleasure of my biceps harden as they worked. There is a certain purity in a task of basic labour. I felt this intuitively but later, when much older and I had read and learned more, I realised that this was not an uncommon concept. The impressionist painter, Millet, had, for example, depicted the dignity of the common task in his painting, “The potato pickers”.

Arthur came over to the patch during the morning carrying a spade. I could see from his face that he was in some pain.

“Are you OK?” I asked him.

“Aye lad,” he replied with a smile, “it isn’t much.”

His mouth might have been smiling but his eyes weren’t.

“Arthur, why don’t you take a break, I can do this.”

I saw dismay in his eyes. He didn’t want to be seen as being unable to do his work. I needed to explain.

“Arthur, I know about your accident.”

He nodded, understanding.

“You’ve done me a great favour letting me stay here. I want to repay you by helping out. It would mean a lot to me if you’ll let me do that.”

Arthur’s expression relaxed. He gave a genuine smile and nodded. I had given him a way of letting me do the work while maintaining his dignity.

“I’ll just stay here and keep you company then,” he conceded.

He sat down against an apple tree and lit his pipe.

“I suppose it was my girls who told you about my little accident with Jess.”

I grinned, no reply was necessary.

“You seem to have got to know the girls already. So what do you think about our little village?”

I put down my spade and sat down beside him.

“Its as much home as London.” I told him. “I feel as though I fit in perfectly.”

Arthur just nodded, giving a look of complete comprehension.

“I thought you would.”

We chatted a little longer and I got back to work.

------------

I really had no desire to go to school. It had always been my ambition to be professional boxer and you didn’t go to school for that. Unfortunately Arthur had different ideas and I found myself the next morning walking to the village school with Mary and Joan.

The village school wasn’t exactly large. It had one teacher and 20 pupils. Apart from the girls and I there were four other kids of our age. The rest were younger. With there being only one class lessons were different to what I was used to but the teacher seemed OK. As a sort of ice breaker, I was asked to tell the class about myself. On the whole it went well – city life was a mystery to the other kids and they seemed pretty interested in what I told them. Although I still didn’t want to go to school, I put up with it.

At the end of the day I was walking down the village main street with Joan and Mary and Susan, one of the girls at school. I saw three blokes approaching us. One was a big, fat bloke who had a smirk on his face. He walked up to Susan.

“Hello Suzie, how about a kiss?”

“That’s Peter May,” Mary whispered.

“Leave me alone!,” Susan, shouted at him. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want anything to do with you!”

“Oh come on, I know you want to be friendly.”

“No I don’t,” Susan began to cry.

While it wasn’t my business, I didn’t like blokes who pushed girls around.

“Leave it out mate, she isn’t interested.” I told him.

“And who are you?” Peter turned on me. “You speak bloody funny. You’re one of them refugees from the big city eh? Keep you bloody nose out things or I’ll sort you out.”

I wasn’t in the mood for a fight but I wasn’t going to back down.

“Look mate, there’s no need for bother, just leave her alone and that’ll be that.”

“I ain’t taking that from no city cunt,” Peter snarled. “Me and my mates are going to teach you a lesson.”

Up to then the other two kids hadn’t said anything. They were typical hangers on, cowards who hid behind Peter.

“Like I said, There’s no need for bother but if you want it, fine, but surely you don’t need your mates to sort out a city kid, do you?”

Peter gave a grin of triumph, he saw me as another victim for him to bully. His mates grinned too.

“OK sucker, show me what you can do,” he snarled.

Without giving me time to react he ran at me. I tried to duck and his fist grazed my cheek. Instinctively I punched him hard in the belly. I think for the first time Peter knew what it was like to be on the receiving side. He looked at me in shock as he gasped to gather his breath. If I had been in the ring I would have gone after him but I wanted to give him a chance – it was obvious that he had no real fighting skills.

“You cunt!! I’ll have you,” he snarled and moved to swing a haymaker at me. I had no problem in ducking below the telegraphed punch and I countered with a right cross to his face. His nose flattened and blood flooded down his face. I hoped that that would have knocked the fight out of but Peter was no coward. He shook his face and threw another punch. I had had enough and decided to end matters quickly. I blocked his punch easily and sent in a combination to his belly. As Peter bent forward to ease the pain I smacked him hard on the jaw. He slumped to the ground, finished.

I quickly looked up at his mates, expecting them to have a go. I needn’t have bothered, they were walking off.

The girls and I headed off, leaving Peter to look after himself.

Joan and Mary looked at me in awe.

“Gosh,” Mary gasped, “that was scary!”

Susan looked equally impressed and gasped her thanks.

“Think nothing of it,” I told her. 

We dropped Susan off at her house and walked home.

“Listen, girls, this isn’t the sort of start I wanted,” I told them. The last thing I needed was a reputation as a hard guy. “Please don’t tell your parents.”

“OK, but they'll find out anyway, news spreads fast in a village this size,” Mary told me.

“You really sorted him, though,” Joan smiled.

Any hope of keeping things secret were dashed later that evening when there came a knock on the door. It was the local police constable. He spoke with Arthur for a few minutes before Arthur called me to speak to him.

The constable looked at me in amusement.

“So you’re the tough guy who beat up Peter Mays?”

I nodded.

“Well his dad isn’t very happy. He wants me to arrest you for assault.”

I explained what happened and the girls confirmed my story.

“Officially, take this as a warning.” The policeman told me sternly. “I won’t have violence in my village. Do it again and I'll have to take action.”

I nodded in solemn acquiescence. The policeman then smiled.

“Unofficially, that Peter needed a lesson.”

As things turned out, I had no problem in doing what the policeman wanted – Peter Mays gave neither me nor the girls any more bother. 

------------

It was one Friday in May, as we sat eating, that there was a knock at the door.

“Telegram for Mr Hudson,” the postman announced.

I took the orange-brown envelope nervously, telegrams usually meant only one thing – bad news.

The news was mixed. Dad had been wounded in his arm and had returned to England. He was coming the next day with mum and my sisters to see me.

Mollie was as excited as anyone.

“They’ll have to stay the weekend,” she announced and with she set about with a vengeance making arrangements. She moved into Arthur’s room leaving the master bedroom available for mum and dad. My sisters would sleep with Mary and Joan. 

I was frantic with excitement, counting the seconds until the morning.

There was only one train in the morning and Arthur took the cart to collect them. I paced around impatiently until the cart turned into the yard.

Our reunion was filled with mixed feelings. I was delighted to see Val and Shirley but sad to see dad with his arm in a sling. Joan and Mary were immediately captivated by my sisters and took them off to see the animals. The rest of us sat down in the kitchen for tea.

Dad’s injury had been nasty – the bullet severing a major nerve in his left arm. While nerves do regenerate, the process was very slow. The wound ruled out any further military service - to all intents and purposes, his arm would be useless for years. The railway company had given him a job as a signalman, meaning that at least he had employment. I was grateful that he would no longer be in active service but mourned his disability.

My parents hit it off immediately with Arthur and Mollie. It seemed amazing that two couples with such different backgrounds could take to each other. After a time I left them to chat and went to find the girls. I found them feeding the chickens. Val and Shirley were fascinated by the birds, squealing and laughing with glee.

“How can an ugly brute like you have such lovely sisters?” Mary asked.

My jaw must have dropped with surprise because she burst into laughter.

“Joke!!” she grinned.

“Seriously Jimmy,” Joan added, “they’re lovely kids.”

The weekend went well except for the moment when I was told that I could not go back to London with my family.

“My being home doesn’t change the basic facts,” dad explained. “There is still danger from bombs. But there is something I want you to have.”

Dad pulled an envelope from his pocket.

“This is the deed to our house.” He explained. I didn’t really understand. “I own our house and this is the ownership document. If anything should happen to us then the house is yours. Also, look under the floorboards under our bed.”

No amount of arguing would change his mind leaving me to wave from the platform as their train steamed off on the Sunday afternoon.

----------

Life settled down to routine again, with me going to school and helping on the farm. The vicar had heard about my boxing and asked me to help out at the youth club giving the lads some pointers on keeping fit. This occupied a couple of hours of my time after school on a Wednesday.

One Wednesday I walked into the kitchen after my stint at the youth club. Arthur and Mollie were stony faced and the girls were sobbing.

“Sit down, lad,” Arthur told me.

I sat, wondering what the hell was going on.

“We’ve had some news.” Arthur continued. “There isn’t an easy way of saying this. Your family have all been killed by a bomb.”

My heart jolted with shock and I felt the heat of adrenaline flood through my body. The room greyed and Arthur’s voice receded. 

“They were on the way to air raid shelter. It was instantaneous, they felt nothing.”

I only vaguely heard this as the room went black and I heard nothing more.

Later…

I awoke disorientated. Where was I? It was night but some light filtered in through the partly open door. I realised with some surprise that I was lying in Mollie’s big French bed. But why?

I could hear voices outside the room.

“There’s no simple way of dealing with it… Losing you whole family is a serious trauma and it will take time…”

Suddenly I remembered and my soul was swamped with despair. My family were gone. All that I valued had been snatched from me. My emotions burst forth and I gave a loud sob. The door opened and Mollie and a man came in. She grabbed hold of me and gave me a hug.

“Here, drink this,” the man spoke, offering me a glass of liquid. I drank the bitter fluid. Within a few minutes the room began to fade and there was darkness again.
---------------

The sky was red and stormy. I looked around and saw that I was in a flat landscape rather like the fenlands. Thick, long reeds lashed in the wind at my legs. The world was desolate and I felt a sense of profound menace. I had to get out.

Frantically I tried to run but the reeds tangled in my legs making me fall time after time. I shouted for help but the wind drowned my voice. I staggered on, panting with terror but the harder I struggled, the more I was slowed down. Suddenly the ground gave away. I was sinking into soft earth. I struggled to escape but only sank further. Soon the mud reached my neck. I desperately tried to grab a clump of reeds but my it slipped through my muddy hands. I gave one final scream and the mud closed over my head.

I struggled but I knew that there was no-one to help me. I was going to die alone.

Suddenly I was awake.

“Hush now, it’s alright,” I heard Mollie’s soft voice.

I was soaked in sweat and my heart pounded fit to burst. Mollie was hugging me and kissing my cheek.

“Its alright now, just a bad dream.” she told me.

Slowly I took stock. I realised with a shock that Mollie was in bed with me. She was wearing a nightdress and she was holding my face against her partly naked breast. Slowly I calmed down.

“That’s better my love, do you want a drink?” she asked.

My throat was dry so I nodded gratefully.

Mollie slipped out of bed and left the room only to return with a glass of water. She was wearing a long night dress which buttoned up the front. The top three or four buttons were unfastened revealing a large area of her ample breasts.

I took a drink.

“Why am I in here?” I asked.

“We were worried how you would be in a room on your own. I thought I could keep an eye on you in here.” Mollie explained.

She took my now empty glass from me.

“Time for sleep,” she told me.

She hitched her nightdress up exposing her naked thighs as she sat on the bed. She switched off the light and settled down. I immediately noticed two things. First Mollie had a faint smell. Sort of musky but nice and comforting. Second I suddenly felt safe and no longer alone. The pain of my loss still lurked in the back of my mind but I pushed it out of the way, not wanting to succumb to misery. The residues of the laudanum given by the doctor were still in me and I quickly fell asleep.

It was still dark when I suddenly awoke. It took me a moment to realise where I was. Mollie was lying on her side with her back to me. I was lying pressed against her back with my arm around her waist. My crotch was pressed against her naked rear with my stiff cock nestling in the crack of her arse. To my horror I realised that I was dry humping her. And more incredibly Mollie was pushing back against me.

I reached down and eased my cock between her thighs so that it rubbed across her cunt and arsehole. Mollie gave a sigh and continued to move against me. Her crotch was sopping wet from her juices and my cock slid to and fro making quite squelching sounds. At one point Mollie pulled away a little before pushing back. My cock pushed hard against her body until it suddenly slid into a tight warm place. Mollie ground her rear firmly against me until I felt as though I was buried entirely inside her.

“I’m fucking her!” I suddenly realised.

“Oh yesssss…” Mollie sighed letting me know that she was awake and enjoying things.

Emboldened I slid my hand over her warm rear and down to my cock. Yes I was fucking her, but instead of her cunt, I was buried to the hilt in her arse. It was glorious!!

“Stay still, let me do the work,” Mollie told me.

Gently she began milking my cock with her arse. Not just pushing in and out but also rotating her arse. Mollie began to gasp and pant, matching my own excitement. My cock grew even stiffer, I had never known it to be so large. Mollie made absolutely sure that ever last bit of it was buried inside.

I reached around and slid my hand into the top of her nightdress. Her breasts were huge, warm and marvellously soft. I never realised that human flesh could feel so sweet. Mollie pressed my hand hard against her chest her gasps rising to a crescendo. As she came I felt her arse twitch and pulse, triggering my own orgasm. 

“Oh yes, fill me up,” she gasped as I came. I did my best to oblige.

We didn’t speak as we lay in our sexual afterglow. After a while I slipped off to sleep, still buried deep inside her. 

------------

The crowing cock and the sun through the window heralded to new day. I awoke, my head on Mollie’s shoulder, my cheek pressed against her naked breast. Her nipple was large, dark and erect in the cool air. I moved and kissed it gently.

“Good morning, my dear,” Mollie whispered.

I was at a loss for words. What do you say after screwing a woman’s arse?

“Did you enjoy last night, I did,” Mollie spoke, saving me the problem.

Words couldn’t express my feelings. I gave a grin.

“Your first time eh?”

I nodded.

“What about Arthur?” I asked, worried what he might think.

“I love Arthur dearly. He is my first and will be my last love. He took my virginity and gave me my children. No other man will enter me where he has. As you know, his accident means that he can no longer be my lover. It is a long time since I have made love to him and I miss it deeply but no-one will take his place. That is why I let you into my rear. Last night was a release for me and I did not betray Arthur. You were the first to go in there and I hope you and I will repeat what we did."

I gave Mollie a big hug and a kiss.

“So do I.” I replied.

“But not a word to the girls,” she added seriously.

I nodded.

“While we’re on the subject of the girls, I know them better than anyone and you should know that they are very attached to you.”

I looked at her with some surprise.

“Oh come on, you must have guessed.” Mollie grinned. “My girls understand sex and have strong views on it. They would never give themselves to someone unless they have strong feelings about that person. I trust them to make that choice. One day soon I think they will make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“But there’s two of them…” I exclaimed.

“Yes, aren’t you lucky.” Mollie smiled. “But you make sure of one thing. Never ever dare to hurt my girls. If you do you’ll have me to answer to.” 

Now that was a scary prospect.

-------------

My grief lurked in the back of my mind like an ache but I was determined to try and keep on an even keel. I washed and dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. All the family were at the table. Joan and Mary looked tired and red-eyed. Arthur and Mollie looked at me as if asking an unspoken question. I felt I needed to say a few works.

“Er… I want to tell you all something,” I began. “I want to say thank you to all you for the love and support you’re giving me. I guess things are going to get worse before they get better and I want you to know how much I appreciate your help.”

I gave Joan, Mary and Mollie a hug and kiss and I shook Arthur’s hand.

“Do you have any heavy work for me to do today,” I asked Arthur. I needed something to help purge my soul.

He had just the thing – a large area of heavily overgrown pasture near the river needed clearing. A day with a scythe would be just the thing. The girls went off to school and I set to work.

The good thing about manual labour is that you can think while you work. Gently I ran my memories through my mind – the good times with mum and dad, playing with the girls. To my surprise I felt a warm happiness – my family had been a strong unit and my memories were special.

Arthur appeared at mid-day with a flask of cold tea and sandwiches. We sat against a tree and ate.

“How’re you bearing up, lad?” he asked in his rough, kindly voice.

“Better than I hoped,” I replied. “I’ve been thinking of all the things we did. Somehow they comfort me.”

Arthur nodded with understanding.

“Mollie told me about last night.”

I heart jumped with shock and I felt the hot flush of adrenaline.

“Don’t worry lad, its fine with me.”

I looked at Arthur in surprise. 

“My accident was hard on Mollie. A woman needs comfort from her husband and I couldn’t give it. You helped her and for that I’m grateful.”

I was utterly amazed. I had expected Arthur to be angry that I had buggered his wife, not grateful. My reaction must have been obvious because Arthur smiled.

“Don’t worry lad, if it gives Mollie pleasure then I’m happy.”

------------

I set back to work with a vengeance. I had no sense of time, my mind immersed in the thousand and one thoughts buzzing through my head. I stopped only when I heard a voice in the twilight.

“Don’t you think you should stop for the day?”

It was Joan and Mary.

“It’s nearly nine, you need to eat.”

I realised that I was exhausted. Throughout the day my body had been on autopilot and I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge any tiredness.

I picked up my shirt and put the scythe over my shoulder.

Mary and Joan stood in front of me, for once tongue tied. I realised they wanted to say something but were finding it difficult to say.

“You don’t need to tread lightly,” I told them, “what ever you want to say just say it.”

After some hesitation Mary spoke.

“We wanted to say how sorry we were about…”

“You don’t need to.” I interrupted. “Saying sorry is what strangers say when they hear about a death. You aren’t strangers, you met my family, you don’t need to say what you feel.”

I dropped the scythe.

“Come here,” I told them.

I gave both of them a long hug and a kiss. Not on the cheek, but full on the lips. The girls hugged and kissed back with passion. I stowed the scythe in the barn and we walked to the house, arm in arm. 

The next few weeks passed in a daze. In spite of being in a loving environment, I found it difficult to lose the sense of grief. I didn’t even have the solace of attending a funeral – they didn’t find any remains to bury. I occupied my time working hard in the farm, losing myself in manual labour.

One lunch time Arthur took me to one side.

“I’ve been doing some checking, lad,” he began. “Until you’re 18 you have to have a parent or guardian, otherwise you have to go to an orphanage.”

I was appalled, this was the last thing I wanted.

“Do you have any family?” he asked.

I thought frantically. There was no-one.

“Don’t worry lad, I can be your guardian if you want it.”

I looked at him in astonishment. 

“You mean…”

“Yes lad, we can be your “parents” until you’re 18.”

I was speechless.

“We need to travel to London, there are forms to sign.”

------------

Arthur, Mollie and I travelled to London the following week. The first port of call was an office block off Whitehall. The scene was surreal with walls of sandbags everywhere and all the government buildings guarded by armed soldiers. We were ushered into an office on the second floor. A clerk sat behind a large desk.

“Ah, Mr and Mrs Etheridge, I have the papers ready.” He began. “I must explain that you will be taking responsibility for Jimmy’s actions and his welfare. You will also be empowered to make decisions on his behalf. Do you accept these responsibilities?”

Arthur and Mollie nodded.

“And Jimmy, do you accept that Mr and Mrs Etheridge will be acting as legal guardians until you are 18. If you decide to leave them before then that you will be sent to an orphanage.”

I also agreed. We all signed the papers and that was that.

“I have also looked into the matter of the house,” the clerk continued. “If you wish, the Ministry of Housing will buy it from you at the current market value. We need housing for those who have bombed out of their homes.”

I had no need for the house and I readily agreed.

“Do you have the deeds?” I was asked, and I handed them over. I signed another form and received a money order for £900.

“If you want to collect any furniture or belongings from the house, if you do that today I will arrange to have them taken to your new home,” the clerk told me.

I had a heavy heart as we headed over to Southwark. It seemed strange walking up my street. I noticed that one or two houses had been destroyed, our house was complete. One or two of my neighbours saw me and came over to offer their sympathies. I felt strangely out of place – not really belonging. I reached through the letter box on our front door and pulled on the length of string which hung there. Tied on the end was the front door key. I unlocked the door. The Ministry van pulled up outside and the driver came in with us.

The house was musty and silent. I walked through the house picking up a few special possessions – photographs, books, personal mementos. I felt a crushing sadness but it was something I had to do. I moved mum and dad’s bed and lifted the loose floorboard. Underneath was a cash box filled with cash. I grabbed a leather suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and put the cash box and the other items in it. Arthur and I gathered some special items of furniture and we put them on the van. I locked the door and handed the key to the driver.

I sat lost in my own thoughts as we travelled back on the train. Arthur and Mollie sat quietly, holding hands.

My emotions were mixed. My soul was ragged from the loss of my family – I would never get over the pain. I also felt a warm pleasure that Arthur and Mollie had accepted me into their family. Love and loss combined.

------------

Back in my room I went through the contents of the suitcase. Photographs of happier days, keepsakes which brought back poignant memories. I came to cash box. Inside was £500 cash. With the money of the house I had £1400 – a fortune. I lay back on my bed and considered an idea which was forming in my mind.

It was the next morning at breakfast that I made my proposition.

“Arthur, I don’t want to go back to school.” I announced. He began to object but I stopped him.

“No, please hear me out. I want to make a contribution to the farm. How much do you think Mr Mays would sell the land by the river for?”

“Maybe £500,” Arthur replied after some thought.

“If I give you the money, will you try and buy it?” I asked.

“Why?” Arthur asked.

“It will be my way of buying into the farm. That way I’ll be helping you and I’ll be committing myself to the farm. From now on I want to be a farmer.”

Arthur gave a broad grin of genuine pleasure and nodded in acceptance. 

To our surprise we got the land for £400. Mr Mays was such a lazy bastard that he couldn’t resist taking such a large amount of money. Arthur decided to make our business arrangement legal and we all trooped off to a solicitor’s office in Cambridge. Joan and Mary obviously had rights of inheritance and it was agreed that we would all be equal partners in the land sharing the word, income and ownership. Mary and Joan had both expressed a desire to be involved in the farm when they left school so everyone was happy.

I felt a deep satisfaction that I finally knew where I wanted my life to go.

The following day Arthur and I inspected our new patch of land. Down by the river was a wooden building.

“What's that?” I asked.

“Well ten years ago this used to be the village cricket pitch and yonder hut was the pavilion. Harold Mays used to let the village use the land, that was until one day he fell out with the team captain. He then stopped us using the land.”

I went into the pavilion. Apart from a musty smell, the hut was in good condition and dry. It seemed a shame that the use of the land had been withdrawn.

“Where does the team play now?”

“They have a pitch behind the church.”

---------

The rest of August and September were hot and the harvest was good. Working in the fields had made my body hard and tanned. My grief had faded but was never quite forgotten. The weekend of the harvest festival was a new experience to me. Sure I knew what harvest festival was all about but having worked long days bringing in the wheat I now understood the gratitude that farmers felt. Apart from the special service in the church on the Sunday, there was a special barn dance on the Saturday – except I didn’t have a date! I could cope with that but Joan and Mary were going with James and Michael Foster. That really stuck in my craw - and the girls knew it. For weeks before they spent time with Mollie preparing their dresses for the big night and I got grumpier and more jealous. The girls knew how I felt and took great care to wind me up at every opportunity. That was until the Saturday afternoon. 

The girls were in their room getting ready. They were in their dressing gowns and hair curlers when I stuck my head around the door. I had decided to make the best of things and wish them a good time.

“Come in,” Mary told me.

I sat on one of the beds.

“You know, we don’t really want to go with the Foster boys, there is only one person we want to go with.” Mary told me.

“We have always gone with the Foster boys and this had been arranged before you came to live with us.” Joan continued. “Really they are dead boring. I’ll tell you what will happen. Both of them will spend most of the evening drinking cider with their friends. They will then walk us home trying to take us down Hawthorn Lane.”

“Hawthorn Lane?” I queried.

“The local lovers lane.” Mary retorted impatiently. “Every year they try to get us to do you know… it.”

“And every year we say no. This year will be just the same.”

“And you’ll say no again?” I dared to ask, terrified what they would say.

The girls looked at me as if I was the most stupid person in the world.

They stood up and walked over.

“You really can be stupid sometimes,” Mary told me. “We will only tell you this once.”

The girls opened their dressing gowns and let them drop to the floor. They stood naked, just a couple of feet from me.

“What you see is just for you. We are yours, we don’t want anyone else.” Mary continued. “Put your hand between my legs.”

Nervously I reached forward and cupped her hairy sex in my hand. She was hot and wet.

“Me too,” Joan told me.

She was the same.

“You are the only boy ever to do this. We are yours whenever you want us.”

“B… but… there are two of you.”

“We share everything,” Joan giggled. “We are identical, the same flesh, so really we’re not two different girls.”

“And you get double the fun”, Mary chipped in.

My further enjoyment of the girl’s nether regions was interrupted by Mollie calling upstairs that my tea was ready. I gave the girls a deep, passionate kiss and walked downstairs slowly, adjusting my painfully stiff cock.

The barn dance was one of the high spots of the year and the girls had worked long and hard on their dresses. They looked fabulous when they came downstairs. Both dresses were made from gingham – one red and one blue. The bodices were tight and low cut showing off a fair amount of their lovely cleavages. The skirts were flared, perfect for dancing. To be frank, they looked like sex on legs.

The Foster boys turned up at eight in their father's van.

“Don't forget, be back by midnight,” Mollie told them.

“Yes, Mother,” they replied in unison.

-----------------

There was just Mollie and myself at tea. The harvest festival bash included supper so Joan and Mary didn’t need any. Arthur had gone to bed.

Arthur was becoming more and more of a worry. Although he didn’t give anything away, the effects of his accident were becoming more and more severe. He tried to make out that it was just a touch of rheumatism but Mollie feared there was something more profound wrong. More and more frequently he was coming in early from work, grey faced with pain, and going straight to bed. Mollie begged him to see the doctor but he refused, claiming there was nothing wrong.

She seemed a little down during tea – Arthur’s health was bothering her. The girls left while we were washing up.

“Don’t forget, no later than midnight and don’t drink too much cider! The key will be under the mat.” Mollie told them.

“We won’t!” the girls replied in unison.”

We finished the washing up in silence and afterwards I made a cup of tea and we sat down on the settee in the living room.

Mollie was one of those people who seemed constantly happy. She always had a smile on her face and a cheerful comment to make. It was a complete surprise, therefore, when she rested her head on my shoulder and began to sob. I put my arm around her and tried to give some comfort.

“I don’t what I’d do if I lost him,” she sobbed.

There wasn’t really anything I could say so I simply hugged her tight. Her face was pressed into the crook of my neck and her hand rested on my chest. We sat there for what must have been half an hour.

Slowly Mollie raised her face to mine, her eyes and cheeks moist with tears.

“Love me!” she whispered, intensely.

I kissed her soft, tear-wet, lips and she kissed back with passion. The top button of her dress was undone, revealing her wonderfully large breasts. I unfastened more buttons until her dress hung open and her breasts lay naked to my view. 

Mollie stood up and took my hand.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered.

No sooner were we in her room that we resumed kissing. Mollie hugged me as though she were frightened of losing me and her kisses had a passion I had never before experienced. Her mouth tasted sweet as her tongue probed my mouth. Her passion and hunger were almost terrifying – she moaned with every breath.

Unlike the first time, I decided to take a lead. Gently I eased from her grip and peeled off her dress. I stepped back to look at her. Mollie’s face was flushed as were her neck and upper chest. Her body was plump with her huge breasts sagging onto her stomach. She wore plain white panties. Mollie looked at me, disconcerted at my gaze.

“You look gorgeous,” I reassured her. There was no doubt, I liked my women with a little meat on their bones. I tugged down her panties, to reveal her plump and very hairy crotch.

I pulled off my clothes. Mollie looked at my naked body and rigid cock with equal lust.

We went back into a clinch. I hugged her, relishing the soft heat of her breasts squashing against my chest and my cock sandwiched between us. As a complete novice I was doing things by guess-work. I remembered someone telling me that necking was a pretty cool thing so I gave it a try.

Mollie gave a gasp as I buried my face into her neck, kissing and nibbling as I did. I felt goose-bumps rise on her skin and her nipples harden against my chest.

“Oh Jimmy!” she gasped, “that’s wonderful.”

I thought it was pretty good too. Mollie had a marvellous scent. Not perfumed – a mixture of soap and a sort of body smell. I had an irresistible urge to explore and taste Mollie's body and began to work my way down to her breasts, kissing and licking as I went. Her breasts were huge and soft, with large dark nipples. Several long, dark hairs grew from her aureole. I suckled at her nipples. Mollie gave a gasp of pleasure and pushed my face against her.

“Suck me hard!” she begged.

Her nipple grew stiff in my mouth, begging to be sucked. After several minutes of teasing her breasts I move further downward across her plump belly to the heavy bush covering her crotch. Mollie's hands held my head, guiding me downward until I reached her clit. Her gash was swollen and flooding with juice. The smell was fabulous, musk with a hint of piss. Mollie shuddered as my lips brushed over her clit. She fell back onto the bed and spread her legs – inviting me. I returned my mouth to her clit, taking it into my mouth like a tiny cock. Mollie's hands pushed me hard against her.

Mollie's body began to buck against my mouth, fucking it with her clit. She pushed her hand into her mouth, suppressing her cries of pleasure – we were aware that Arthur lay in bed downstairs. 

I slid a couple of fingers into her wet cunt. In spite of having children it was snug. Mollie's movements became frantic until with a huge, stifled groan she came. Mollie lay back gasping and gently whimpering. 

“Oh my, Jimmy, that was lovely. That hasn't happened to me for a long time.”

I felt proud that I had managed to make Mollie come – not bad for a kid!

“Your turn now,” Mollie whispered as she slipped onto her knees and took my cock into her mouth. I almost melted at the feeling of her war, soft mouth sucking me. Mollie did things with her lips and tongue which almost drove me crazy. With a devilish cunning she teased me until I was ready to blow – and stopped.

She let go and knelt on the bed, her arse facing me. And what an arse. Large and fleshy with a dark, hairy crack in the middle. I pulled her cheeks apart to reveal her tight butt hole – dark and puckered. I had tasted most of her and it seemed logical to give her hole a lick. The smell was earthier, her musk and sweat mixed with darker scent. 

She gate a gasp as my tongue hit the spot.

“Jimmy!! That's rude!! But nice...”

She opened a little under my tongue, ready for me.

“Put it in, Jimmy,” Mollie told me.

I pushed my cock against her starfish feeling a slight resistance. Suddenly Mollie relaxed her sphincter and my cock slid in easily, her ring feeling like a rubber band gripping me. Gently, but firmly, I pushed in to the hilt. I looked down to see the base of my belly pressed against Mollie's ring. My cock felt like it was gripped by a warm fist. I couldn't hold out and began to fuck her rear. Mollie met each thrust by pushing against me. In seconds I came – violently, filling her with my juice.

“Oh yes, give me all of it,” Mollie whispered.

I carefully pulled out and we collapsed on the bed and lay cuddling for a while.

“Thankyou Jimmy, that was nice.” Mollie whispered into my neck.

---------

The girls arrived back early - half an hour early - and it wasn't pretty. Mary was crying and Joan was comforting her. Mary's dress bodice was torn and she was clutching the torn pieces to her chest.

“What happened?” Mollie demanded.

“As usual the Fosters drank too much cider. This time James decided that he wanted to have some fun with Mary, if you understand my meaning.” Joan explained.

“He... he said that he had waited for years and each time he asked I told him no.” Mary sobbed. “He... he... s... said he had waited long enough and he wanted what he was due.”

“She kneed him in the groin,” Joan said with grim satisfaction.

I felt fury course through me. I found it difficult to handle – I was used to dealing with things without losing me temper. The fact was that I was outraged that my girls had been ill-treated.

Mollie saw may expression.

“Jimmy! Promise me you won't do anything stupid.” she asked.

The girls also looked at me.

“Remember what the policeman said.” Mary spoke.

“OK, nothing stupid,” I conceded. “But I will be having a little word with them tomorrow.”

Girls went up to bed. I did too, but was too angry to sleep.

The next morning I walked over to the Foster's farm. Conveniently, I met the two brothers as they were leaving.

“Hey guys, have a good time last night?”

They looked at me with suspicion.

“Yeah,” James finally replied.

“I hear Mary and Joan didn't have too much fun,” I added, with a scowl.

The Fosters didn't reply.

“You know, there aren't many things which really annoy me except for guys who mistreat women. To me they're nothing but cowards. Do you get my drift?”

They knew how I had dealt with Peter May and they looked scared.

“Now I'm very fond of Mary and Joan and I'm very protective of my friends,” I continued in a friendly manner. “I would be very upset if something happened to them again, do you get my drift?”

They nodded.

“Pardon?”

“Yes, we understand,” they croaked.

“Oh yes, and by the way, Mary and Joan asked me to tell you that they don't want to go out with you again, ever. Got it?”

The Fosters just nodded and I walked off.

------------------

Over the next few days I pondered my predicament. I had a moral dilemma, the girls were mine for the taking whenever I chose but also was Mollie. I enjoyed sex with Mollie, especially the pleasure it gave her. My conscience was pricking me, who should I choose? If I stopped sex with Mollie I would be letting her down. Equally I didn't want to lose the girls. 

Sadly events meant that I didn't have to decide for some time.

Arthur took a turn for the worst. He was suffering terrible pain from his belly and was bed ridden. The doctor wasn't too happy with his condition and Arthur was taken into hospital for assessment.

The news was the worst possible. Poor Arthur had extensive and inoperable prostrate cancer. In those days there was no real treatment other than keep him well dosed with morphine and wait for the inevitable conclusion. Mollie and the girls had to travel to Cambridge every day to visit Arthur leaving me to keep the farm running. I had never worked so hard in my life.

Not only did I have to cope with the thousand and one jobs, I was also on a steep learning curve trying to get to grips with running a farm. Fortunately for me Arthur had many friends in the village who were happy to give me advice and occasional help with large jobs.

Over the next few months I managed to keep the farm operating while Arthur weakened. One day in February Mollie asked me to go to the hospital with her. I was horrified to see Arthur. He looked like a skeleton, not the man I had got to know.

“Ah, Arthur lad, good to see you.”

His voice was weak but still had to gentle tone we knew and loved.

“It's not looking good for me.”

“You'll be fine,” I told him, putting my hand on his in reassurance.

“Rubbish, boy, I have only days left. Now listen, Mollie tells me that you're doing well with keeping the farm going and I thank you for that.”

I wanted to argue that no thanks were necessary but Arthur’s strength wasn't up to it.

“Will you promise me that you'll look after my girls when I'm gone?”

“Do you really think you need to ask?” I replied.

“No lad, I suppose not.

Arthur died two days later. Mollie and the girls were desolate. I felt almost as bad, Arthur had been as close to a father as was possible. I threw myself into my work, leaving the girls to grieve.
----------

Things changed big time after Arthur's funeral. After a major argument with Mollie, Joan and Mary announced that were leaving school and taking up work on the farm. Mary, the more numerate of the two, took on the role as accountant. Joan took on the lighter work such as dealing with the cows and the vegetable patch. Mollie took the role of dealing with our suppliers and customers.

I set about my farm work with a fury. Not only did it help me cope with Arthur's loss, it also gave me a sense of satisfaction to be working for our benefit. I would leave the house before six in the morning and return after nine in the evening – hardly seeing much of the family. The winter and spring passed and it was soon early summer. The weather was hot and sunny.

Late one Saturday evening I was locking up my tools when I saw Mollie standing in the doorway.

“I need a word with you,” she said in a distinctly unfriendly tone. “What do you think you're up to?”

I was confused, what the hell was she going on about.

“Sorry, what do you mean?”

“You have my two girls crazy in love with you but all you're doing is working. You haven't gone out with them for months.”

“But there's so much to do!”

“Rubbish!” Mollie spat back, “the farm has never looked better. For some reason you're avoiding us. Now what is it?”

I gave in.

“After mum and dad and the kids, I found it hard to cope with Arthur going. I found it helpful to do what I enjoy best – hard work. It helps me get things in perspective.” I explained.

Mollie's expression softened.

“I might have guessed, you soft fool. Joan and Mary thought you had gone off them.”

“No, not at all... but...” I protested.

“Ah, but...” Mollie looked at me suddenly realising something. “You have a slight loyalty problem, perhaps?”

“Sorry?” I played it dumb.

“You're worried about sleeping with me and getting friendly with the girls. You don't want to upset any of us. Am I right?”

I nodded.

“Well don't worry. The girls don't know what we've been up to and I'm not about to tell them. Equally, if you happen to get friendly with them, I'm not going to be upset. I would simply be grateful if from time to time, when I get sad and lonely, if you could, er..., slip me one.”

“You've got a deal,” I smiled.

“Good. Now tomorrow you is Sunday, and that is a day of rest. That means you don't work. OK?”

“Yes boss,” I sighed.

“Fine. The girls have plans for the three of you so you had better to what you're told.”

------------

In spite of Mollie's instructions, there were some basic tasks to do the following day. Cows need milking, stock needs moving to new pasture, all that sort of thing. It was late morning by the time we had finished. I returned to the house to wash and change.

The girls were in the kitchen wearing bright, flower patterned dresses.

“About time,” Joan growled, “we thought were going to have to drag you in from the fields.”

“So what are we going to do?” I asked as the girls led the way towards the river.

“Relax and enjoy some time together,” came the cryptic reply.

I soon realised that we were heading onto the new piece of land. I had spent two weeks on the land ploughing and it now looked tidy and was ready for sowing in the autumn. To my surprise the pavilion looked tidy and had been repainted. I looked at the girls in surprise.

“What do you think we've been doing while you're too busy to be with us.” Mary said.

“We love the location and thought it would make a quiet retreat during the summer.”

I had to agree. The pavilion stood near the river on the fringe of a copse. The bank was shaded by a huge weeping willow and the opposite bank shrouded in bushes and trees. The area was completely screened from unwanted eyes. 

The inside of the pavilion had been completely cleaned and tidied. Curtains hung at the windows and the room had been fitted with a couch and table and chairs. The table was set with a table cloth and food.

In the second room was a double bed!

I looked at the girls in surprise. They looked at me in pity.

“Sit down, have a drink and we'll explain it in words you might understand.” Joan told me.

I sat and Mary poured three glasses of still cider from a stone jug. I drank, the cider was strong and full of flavour.

“Do you remember on the night of the harvest dance that we made you a promise?,” Mary asked.

I nodded, how could I forget?

“What happened?” Joan asked.

“You er... let me put my hands on your... er...”

“The word your looking for is cunts,” Joan impatiently interrupted.

“er... cunts,” I blushed – even then there were certain things I found difficult to say. “and you told me you were mine whenever you wanted you.”

“Hooray, the boy does have a memory,” Mary chipped in. “And how long ago was that?”

“Around ten months?” I guessed.

“Right again, and still we're waiting. I reckoned that if we waited much longer that our cunts would heal up and we'd die virgins.”

“You're here today to screw us,” Joan told me.

“And what does Mollie think we're doing?” I asked.

“Oh she knows, it was her idea.” Mary announced.

My jaw fell open.

“Her idea?”

During all those nights that you worked late, we would talk. She knew how frustrated and unhappy we were getting and told us what to do.”

“Unhappy?”

“You can sometime be so thick,” Joan told me. “We happen to like you, a lot. That means we want to spend time with you. Have hugs, kisses and a little heavy petting from time to time. From today onwards that will change.”

“What about if I get you pregnant? I don't have any johnies.”

“We are not having rubber boots shoved inside us,” Joan snapped. “Anyway, we're due in a couple of days so we're pretty safe.”

“Due?” 

“Periods, monthly bleeding, don't you know anything?”

“It wouldn't bother me if it wasn't safe,” Mary said with a slight smile.

“True,” Joan agreed, “but lets eat first, I'm starving.

There was one big advantage to living in the country. While the folk living in the cities were having to deal with food rationing, we were well supplied. Lunch comprised of cold rabbit pie, potato salad, home produced bread, butter and cheese and lots of wonderful cider. We dined well and with the help of the cider we were in a mellow, comfortable mood.

“OK, Jimmy, let's get you into the bedroom,” Mary finally announced.

“And you do exactly what we tell you,” Joan grinned.

Who was I to argue and we went into the next room. 

I was immediately grabbed by two passionate girls. They hugged me, taking it in turns to give me deep, wet kisses. Slowly they stripped me while not pausing from kissing me. Soon I was naked and enjoying the feeling of two soft, warm hands stroking my tackle. The touch of one girl would have been fine, two was fantastic.

“OK, lay on the bed.”

I lay down and immediately Mary jumped onto my chest. She sat on me, her knees on my shoulders, her crotch just a couple of inches from my chin. Joan sat on my legs. I was captive.

Mary pulled her dress over her head and slipped off her bra. I had a fabulous view up her body. The crotch of her panties was just in front of me. There was a large damp patch over he cunt – Mary was very excited. I also could smell her excitement. It wasn't as strong as Mollie's but she did have an exciting aroma. I bent my head forward and kissed her crotch. 

Mary shivered.

“Oh God, Jimmy that is nice!”

“Pull your panties to one side and I'll do better,” I told her.

For the first time I got a close up look at her cunt. Her lips were puffy and red and a white juice dribbled from between them. I clamped my mouth over her cunt, pushing my tongue deep into her. Mary wriggled and pushed against me. She slowly fucked my mouth, matching my sucking with her thrusts.

I was concentrating on giving Mary a good time but in the background I could feel Joan rubbing my cock. She paused and slipped off the bed only to return in a moment. The touch of her warm rear on my thighs told me she was nude. She gripped my cock again and I felt it's head pressed against a warm, hairy place – her cunt. I felt her ease me inside her and press down. There was a moment's resistance and I was suddenly buried in a hot, wet place. Joan gave a gasp and then pressed down, taking all of me inside her.

“Oh shit, that's good,” she hissed. “This is better than I expected, Mary.”

Mary didn't reply, she was too busy working herself to her orgasm. Her clit had hardened and was thrusting between my lips. Joan began sliding herself up and down my cock, send shivers of delight through me.

“Oh fuck, I'm coming!” Mary suddenly gasped.

My mouth was suddenly flooded with juice which was jetting from her cunt. 

“Shit, she's peeing in my mouth!” I thought as I swallowed frantically, except it didn't taste like pee. It had a subtle sweet taste, rather nice actually. Mary gave a final gasp and slid off my face.

“Were you trying to drown me?” I asked.

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you, she gasped, her face bright red and sweating. “We always squirt stuff when we come. It's not pee. Did you swallow it?”

“Yes,” I gasped. Joan had leant forward and her gorgeous tits were squashed against me. She kissed me deeply, tasting her sister's juices. I felt a wonderful pressure begin to build up inside me. My cock grew bigger as my climax began to build. Joan immediately noticed.

“Oh god, I feel tight,” she hissed in my ear. “I'm coming.”

So was I. With a flood of unbelievable pleasure I filled her with jet after jet of my juice. With a loud squeal, Joan joined me. I felt a flood of her juice flood between my legs and over my belly. She collapsed on me, her racing heart thudding against my chest.

“God, that was amazing,” she told Mary, “It beats wanking every time.”

The girls nestled either side of me, their sweaty bodies pressing against me. Take my word for it, there's nothing better than two pairs of large, damp tits pressing against your chest!

We lay for a while bathed in a warm après-shag glow – until Mary gave a giggle.

“Something warm is dribbling down my bum! I wonder what it is.”

“Do you want a towel?” he sister asked.

“No! It feels lovely. You should try it,” Mary retorted.

“I think I will,” Joan mused and slid down my body, taking my cock in her mouth.

She sucked avidly at the mixture of spunk and Mary's juices that coated me, giving me a huge boner. She stopped sucking and quickly straddled me.

“Bloody hell, Mary,your cunt juices taste pretty strong! Nice though,” she said as she eased my cock into her dripping cunt. “OK, big boy, let's see what a fuck feels like.”

She pushed down hard and my cock ploughed through her hymen and deep into her. She sat down hard and rested, recovering from the slight discomfort.

“Excellent, it fits perfectly,” she grinned.

“Not bad, is it?” Mary grinned back.

Joan bent forward so that her tits brushed against my chest and we began to fuck. Having already come I was able to hold out longer and I lay enjoying Joan becoming slowly aroused. Her breath began to speed up, little by little and she began muttering under her breath.

“Fuck... oh yes... I love it...” she hissed.

Mary had been gently stroking Joan's arse with her hand until Joan suddenly gave a gasp.

“Shit! What have you pushed into my bum?” she asked Mary.

“Just a couple of fingers,” Mary replied innocently, “I wondered if you'd like it.”

“Like it? It's bloody marvellous,” Joan sighed.

In response Mary pushed her fingers deeply in to Joan's butt hole and began gently rubbing the front wall against my cock. Believe me, it was a most amazing feeling!

We were both getting pretty steamed up and be began long, fast strokes. 

“Uhhh... fuck, here it comes,” Joan gasped.

It certainly was coming! My cock had swollen and I began spurting hard into Joan's cunt. The throbbing of my cock and the flood of warm juice was enough to tip Joan over the edge. She came with a loud scream and a flood of juice.

“I've died and gone to heaven,” Joan groaned as she slumped across me.

When I thought of all that happened and what I now had, I had to agree.