In which Jen the Toilet Queen's parents overcame their phobia of War.
***WARNING***

MAY NOT BE ON TOPIC

MAY ALSO CONTAIN FICTION AND RUDENESS

Due to popular request I've dug out the story of how Jen the Toilet Queen's (remember that? That wasn't pr0n, that was M&S pr0n!)parents got it together at the beginning of WW2.

His mother - Sadie had a fear of being alone at times of great stress. She relieved this by deflowering young boys....





Patrick’s fifteenth birthday was on the 1st of September 1939, two days later war broke out and he was relieved of his virginity by a working girl called Sadie.

She was doing him a favour - no one wanted to die a virgin and she was sure Hitler himself was going to come knocking and kill them all.

Sadie walked through the back door and found Patrick sitting naked in a small tin bath in the kitchen.

“Oh don’t mind me! I’ve seen it all before. I’ll shut my eyes so you can get out and keep decent.”

“Thank you.” Patrick waited until Sadie closed her eyes and then he stood up, looked around and sighed, “Um, you’re sitting on my towel.”

Her large blue eyes opened and she spoke to his hands which were attempting to conceal his embarrassment unsuccessfully, “My, you have grown… up. It only seems like yesterday you were still a little boy.”

He didn’t look fifteen.

In Patrick’s opinion Sadie looked like a Saturday morning in bed; comfortable, warm, dreamy, but unmade. The hem on her dress was always coming unstitched or the lining came away as she took off her coat or she couldn’t remove her heavily darned cardigan because it forced the tiny buttons on her blouse to pop and skitter to the floor.

Patrick was still standing cold and naked in the kitchen, “Erm, Sadie, my towel?”

“Hmm, yes. Here you are Patrick. Shall I close my eyes again? Not really much point is there? I’ll put the kettle on shall I? Nice cup of tea. Or maybe we should have something stronger – seeings what’s happened.”


Patrick stepped out of the tin bath and tugged on the towel that was still firmly wedged between Sadie’s shapely backside and the hard wooden kitchen chair.

“Alright! Alright! You only needed to ask you know.” Finally Sadie lifted herself and let him get to the thin and threadbare cloth masquerading as a white bath towel. “I think I’d better go and get dressed while you’re making a cup of tea Sadie.”

She gave a high-pitched giggle,leaned her elbows on the sink behind her, pulled back her shoulders and shook out her long red hair nervously.

She knows I’m looking at her tits. Knockers. Stop it!
“No, no. I’m not panicking, but I am getting cold, so if you will excuse me for a moment…”


“Patrick, Patrick, have you come over all funny? Are you scared stiff too? What do you think will happen now? Will it be quick and over in a flash? Or will it go on for ages?”

“Will what be quick?” Patrick asked warily.

“The war”

“Ah. Yes. Well, I, um. I don’t know.”

They both stood silently. “Well, I’d better get dressed.” He took a stride towards dignity but was stopped again by Sadie who now threw herself against his bare and hairless chest and began to sob. Patrick stood still, Sadie’s Marcel Waved head barely came to his shoulders. He patted Sadie’s narrow back as if she were a strange overfriendly dog which he needed to placate while his other hand was still clinging to his modesty.

“Oh Patrick, you’re so calm and sensible.” Sadie’s voice was only a little muffled by his almost dry chest. She was whimpering and her chest was heaving, her blouse still gaping with each intake of air. Her hot breath upon his left nipple was not going unnoticed.

Patrick tried to focus on Sadie’s less appealing features like her small, pointed and pronounced teeth, but that made him think about her mouth rimmed with scarlet lipstick. He tried to picture her overlong toenails which scratched the ground as she tottered in her high heeled sandals but that made him imagine her slim ankles, shapely calves, white rounded thighs rising up to her perfectly formed – his breathing was becoming ragged. The towel was now pointless.

“Patrick! You naughty boy!” said Sadie slowly, “Well I never! And all for me…What are we going to do now?” She walked her pink shell fingernails up his chest.

“Sadie, I’m…I do apologise. I must -”

“Come on,” she whispered huskily just like Patrick had seen at the movies, the same movies she had seen, “Into the front parlour. Room doesn’t get used that much, curtains are closed and I’ve heard the settee is quite comfy.”

“But…Sadie”

SHUT UP!! This is a chance to get your leg over you stupid bugger! She might be a few years older than you and she’s done the rounds a bit, well more than a bit, but she’s female and she’s got great knockers. If you're lucky she might even let us have a look at them. So shut up and let her take you.

Sadie took Patrick’s hand and gently led him into the darkened room. His heart was pounding so much he couldn’t hear all the wirelesses in his street tuned to the Home Service, the 9pm bulletin, all talking war with one solemn voice.

Bloody hell. Bloody hell. This is it. She’s going to let me…I’m going to…Bloody hell. Stay calm. Stay calm.

The parlour was cool and quiet, dark heavy Victorian furniture set like a stage waiting for its next scene to be played out in front of the framed audience of long dead relatives reproduced in faded sepia tones.

Sadie’s only concern was with her living audience of one for whom she slowly lifted her pale blue cotton skirt, slipped her cream cami-knickers down over her rounded hips and allowed them to slide to the floor where she elegantly stepped out of them and then threw them over Great Uncle Charlie who remained unperturbed in his mahogany frame.

She turned away from him, bent to remove her strappy sandals and slipped her small feet onto the worn carpet. She quietly laid herself upon the narrow ageing couch, lifting her skirt again and allowing her spectator his first sight of a woman. Her white thighs were luminous against the dull brown swirls that had once been flowers on the upholstery, but Patrick’s eyes could not move from her coppery pubic hair. He stood, towel still in hand.

I’m not quite sure what to do now. I mean, I know what to do, but what does she expect?

“Um, can I um, kiss you?”

Sadie giggled, “Not many want to kiss. I usually charge extra for that you know.”

Patrick frowned.

“Don’t worry Patrick love. This one’s on the house. This is for the war effort.” She gently pulled him on top of her then kissed his lips and whispered, “We need to make an effort to make sure you don’t die a virgin… Don’t look at me like that; I know I’m your first. Drop that bloody old towel!”

He did as he was told. His knees were between hers and his hands held fast onto the couch.

Bloody hell. Oh God.

“You know where to put it, don’t you love?” Sadie was looking at the ceiling.

“Yes, of course. But I … I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sadie’s mouth puckered a little, she let go of her skirt and dropped her hand, but not her eyes, to guide him. Gently she circled his throbbing cock with her small pale hands, he shivered. Then she stopped, brought her hand up to her mouth, sucked on her fingers, and slid her hand back down. Patrick watched as she closed her eyes and slipped her wet fingers into the moist cleft that was bordered by the coppery curls. Sadie took his cock again and now smeared her own juices along the shaft as she pumped. Patrick began to see stars as his groin felt as if it would explode. She slowly rubbed the now glistening and pulsating head of his hard cock against her drenched pussy. Just as Patrick began to lose all sense of reality he plunged into her wet, hot hole and his throbbing member gushed forth with foamy spunk. She did not laugh, smirk, wince or yelp as Patrick thought she might, Sadie was silent.

He kept his eyes trained on the arm of the couch, another grubby patch where the flower pattern had become a brown pattern with darker bits.

Great Uncle Charlie looked on impassively; he was responsible for the stain on the couch; half a pint of stout spilled as he experienced his final heart attack brought on by the discovery of his only niece’s expecting another in the long family line of bastards.

There had been a couple of gentle creaks from the couch and Patrick’s first attempt was over quickly.

He sat back on his towel, “Was that alright?”

“Yes. It was fine.” She drew her knees together and pulled her skirt over them.

Patrick looked down at himself. He grinned.

I’ve done it! I’ve bloody done it! That was…bloody hell.

He looked back at Sadie, “Can I kiss you again?”

Sadie smiled. He tried to kiss her gently with tenderness but he found his hand pushing back her skirt to find that damp moist heaven. “Can I? Again?” She checked her brown wristwatch and nodded. He climbed back into position; she lifted her skirt and dropped her knees out again.

This time he trailed his finger down from the bunched up skirt to the triangle of fox-fur until he found the origin of the world. It was warm, warmer than he had expected, but he did not have time to run his fingers and his tongue over this unexplored land as he wanted because the insistent growing, throbbing hard cock wanted to ram itself into her until she screamed with ecstasy.

Concentrate this time, must concentrate. Trains, the Northern line.


On his second attempt Patrick made it all the way from Morden to the Embankment with changes at Stockwell and Victoria Station. He was keen to try a third attempt, this time going around all of the Circle line but by then she was developing fabric burns on her delicate white rump and needed to return to her paying duties.


Sadie stood up and shook her waved hair out a little as if it were wet, “They’ll all be out and about now. Seeings it’s the war and everything. I ‘spect it’ll be a busy night like, could be busy as Christmas or New Year. Well, that’s you sorted out, sorted out good and proper! Anytime you fancy another go….”

His explorations were over.

Sadie picked up her knickers and began to fold them, “If I’m free, like. But don’t go telling your mum – she might tell me off!” She giggled, put her high-heeled sandals back on and walked into the kitchen.

Patrick followed obediently, towel back in place around his waist, “Thank you Sadie, thank you very much. You’ve been extremely generous to me.”

Is that right? Should I be thanking her? Should I tell her I love her? Should be in love with her now, or her with me? Is that why she did it?


“Oh do give over love! Any of the girls round here would have dropped their knickers if you’d looked their way or followed them down a dark alley. I can think of quite a few who’d love to meet you and your crown jewels in a dark alley! With your posh ways, you’re a proper gentleman you are.” She looked away from Patrick, outside to the darkened sky where the stars had begun to come out.

Sadie raised her eyebrows and returned her concentration to the underwear she held in her small hand, “Sometimes Patrick,” she looked back up at him and smiled a little, “It’s nice to be in charge…Oh look at that clock, it’s almost chucking out time over at the King’s Head, I’ve some regulars there, better get going. Give my love to your mum – tell her I popped round to check on you.”

Sadie scooped up her handbag and shoved in her folded knickers, she caught Patrick’s eye, “Saves time. And washing.”
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 12:44, 21 replies)

I wish I could write stuff like this....
It would keep me warm on cold winter nights.
( girlinthehole, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:03, closed)

Oh. My. God.
This is the first time I've ever been turned on by b3ta, should I be ashamed?

You deserve many, many clicks for this!
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:05, closed)

You
are wasted in your current profession. Mills and Boon are crying out for authors like this.

*goes outside for brisk walk around the block*
(Bazongaloid, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:06, closed)

@ BGB: So
Would a radiator...

*flees to pub*
( Cawl, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:06, closed)

awww, foamy spunk.
nice!
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:08, closed)

*returns from walk*
*hears CHCB talking about foamy spunk*

*goes out and walks quicker*
(Bazongaloid, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:16, closed)

Oh dear.
Now I'll have to try not to stand up for a bit.

*Click*
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:28, closed)

@ Kaol
It won't keep me warm in the place I wan't warming.
( girlinthehole, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:33, closed)

@BGB
is that your ankles? 'cause I can never get my ankles warm on a radiator.

And you want to be careful replying to a chickenlady post with stray apostrophes like that floating around!
(Bazongaloid, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:36, closed)

@Al
I only do that to wind the grammar nazis up.

I spent all day yesterday gazzing my special friend and telling him what I would like to do to him and getting my jollies.

Now today I'm all wound up again and ready for more banter.

I'm going to be climbing the walls by the end of today.
( girlinthehole, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:40, closed)

*
it's harrt to typw weith one handf....
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:58, closed)

Well...
I'm back from the pub.
I may have over-indulged.
I enjoyed this story as much the second time around.
*thumbs up*
( Cawl, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:07, closed)

I admire anyone who can write like this
because I always end up deleting it later :( have a click!
( Maladicta, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:08, closed)

@ Maladicta
That's why you need to be incognito, you can post it, it's on the web, but nobody knows that it's YOU that posted it :D
( Cawl, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:15, closed)

But even if it's on my hard drive
I always end up deleting it, I get worried someone's going to find it even though I'm the only one with access to my laptop...
( Maladicta, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:32, closed)

I guess the
Main question has to be "Is it particularly bad" then?

Or about really odd things?
( Cawl, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:44, closed)

Not bad - I'm not sexually special or anything
but I think I'm just shy and would get embarrassed if anyone found it; I'm a very private person anyway.
( Maladicta, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 15:31, closed)

Arghhhh
You've given me a new phobia ...
(Biff..., Tue 15 Apr 2008, 16:38, closed)

*Grins*
Perfect...

*Still grins*
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 15 Apr 2008, 21:12, closed)