God is on Our side

Chapter 2

I was made to stay in bed the next morning and I must have dozed off for a while, but it seemed only within minutes of my mother leaving my bed, when I was mobbed by my girlfriend the luscious blonde bombshell Beanie. She really was something else. I gazed at her in amazement. I was wondering how I ever managed to get such a glamorous girl friend. She was exceedingly slim, and immediately I could see how we managed to give her the nickname of Beanie. Her long slightly wavy blonde hair fell in cascades to her shoulders from the parting in the centre of her head. Some of the strands of her hair fell to the front of her, resting on her slightly protruding pert little breasts, and the rest fell in heavy folds over her back.

Her slender shoulders were accentuated by the plain white blouse she was wearing, with a slightly plunging neckline it was not a deep neck line by any stretch of the imagination, but, it was low enough that I could see the delicate gold locket suspended from her slim neck, by a nearly invisible
gold chain.

Her legs were slim, and were covered by a black knee length slim cut skirt, that seemed to cling to her very slim waist, tightly, accentuating the shape of her hips, and then to taper to just above her knees. I especially liked the way her skirt seemed to accentuate her flat stomach.

Her large handbag dangled from her left shoulder, and I realised that it also contained her gas mask. It was black leather that matched her shoes and her skirt. She fingered her hair, pulling it back from her eyes, lightly flinging it over her shoulder; as she bent down to kiss me.

She definitely had something about her that was...well... the best word is foxy, she was very appealing,
and absolutely reeked of personality. The thought continually flashed through my mind. How in the hell had I managed to attract a girl like this. This girl was worth hanging on to. All of a sudden I began to realise that the trauma of slipping back sixty years did not seem as horrendous as I had first thought.

“I saw them carry you out last night on a stretcher, and they said you were dead. It was almost midnight when the raid ended, and two .o’clock by the time I got back here and Aunt Dora and Mandy had already gone to the hospital. When Aunt Dora came later, and told me that you were still alive, and you had come home seemingly OK, it was the most fantastic surprise of my life. I realised then just how much I really loved you. I wanted to come straight away, but they made me stay and wait until this morning so that you could have some rest.”

In between talking she had dropped her coat and handbag and lain down on the bed and was periodically smothering my face with kisses between chatting. This was obviously the age where girls used an excess of lipstick, and strong perfume, and she was busily transferring the lipstick from her lips to my face. I subsequently learned that Beanie was almost a year older than me, she was seventeen almost eighteen and we had been boyfriend and girlfriend almost since starting school. We had apparently both vowed to get married when we were old enough when we were five years old.

Beanie was much thinner than the average girl. I thought that perhaps she was almost anorexic. She was very energetic, and she was a blue eyed blonde, of about 5’8” tall. She had a personality which was like a bottle of pop. Everything seemed to excite her, and she treated life with an excess of enthusiasm which I later found could be quite infectious.

Beanie lived next door, and I learned that we had been playmates way before school. She always referred to my mother as Aunt Dora, and apparently her mother was known as Aunt Beryl to me. Both families were close, and we had almost become sweethearts in our prams. Our fathers were close buddies and were both West Ham supporters. They had joined the Territorial army together in 1937, and were in the same unit somewhere in the western desert

Beanie and Aunt Beryl apparently normally worked with my mother, as a lathe operator in a local engineering works making parts for rifles and Bren guns, as did most of the local women. The fit men had all joined the armed forces, so the women had to take over their jobs. But today Beanie had taken a sickie ostensibly to look after me. I explained that I had lost my memory, and I asked her to help me by explaining what was happening. She gave me a brief synopsis of what was happening in the war.

She told me that it was September 11th 1940 with the second Christmas of the war fast approaching. The battle of Britain seemed to have fizzled out, and now the Germans were giving London and some other cities a pasting both day and night. Most night’s local people would spend sleeping in their air raid shelters or at the underground station. So far we had been lucky, and our street had avoided any significant damage. Mostly the bombing had been aimed at the docks, which had seemed to be ablaze for days, but occasionally they missed, and some private shops or houses would get it.

Rationing was now getting tougher and even if you had sufficient coupons, it was sometimes not able to get the food or clothes you needed, as the shops had been bombed out, or the stock had not arrived. Clothing rationing had been introduced, and every item of clothing was now rationed. There was a big market in second hand clothes, and a very big black market in almost everything. Beanie was fantastic filling me in on what was happening, and occasionally, as she explained things I was getting little glimpses of my memory as Alan returning.

The doctor came at about 11.00 am and examined me and said that I should rest for a few days, and let nature take its course. I paid him the 2/6d my mother had left on the dressing table for his visit. He said “Your memory should return as your body recovers from the shock of the explosion.” After the doctor left Beanie became more amorous. Eventually she said a little shyly.

“Last night after the bomb dropped and they carried you out, I was so sorry that we had never made love. I love you Alan and I want to marry you, and have your children, and I want us to make love now. I had my period last week so we should be fairly safe. I want something to remember you by, if anything like last night ever happens again.”

Without waiting for my agreement she started disrobing and soon she was lying on top of the bed stark naked. As we clung together, enjoying the feel of each others bodies, we heard the wail of the air raid sirens start in the background.

Suddenly with a fervor that surprised me she said “Fuck Hitler he is not going to spoil this for me.” I think that this was probably the first time we had ignored the air raid sirens in this war so far.
Beanie was already very excited when she lay back and spread her legs. Her excitement showed in her eyes, yet there was just a hint of nervousness. She was obviously impatient, and for some reason was not really expecting any foreplay. But this was where my experience of my previous adult life came into play.

She was a little surprised when, instead of mounting her straight away, I leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her mouth. Her arms came round my neck, as she returned my kiss, but after a few seconds I pulled away and went straight to her groin. I gently pushed her legs apart and planted a kiss on the lips of her vagina, and started licking her gently, using my tongue to stimulate her clit.

Beanie moaned and twisted her body almost as though the feelings were too much for her. Then I stuck my tongue into her love tunnel as far as I could push it, and her hips came off the bed as she thrust her pussy hard into my face.

I was trying to do everything I could to please her. I used my tongue to good effect and she came twice in quite quick succession. Then I turned round and kissed her again gently. I eased back and got into position to mount her; to my surprise Beanie had her hand in place fondling my cock as she pointed it accurately at the entrance to her love tunnel.

She held me there but her right arm came up and pulled me down for a long passionate kiss on those sensuous pouty lips. As she pulled me down I felt the tip of my cock push in gently aided by the gentle shifting of her hips.

She was very wet so I pushed in gently. She gave a little gasp, her eyes closed and her arms tightened round my neck as once again she pulled me down fiercely kissing me and moaning The very process of pulling me down and the slight upward thrust of her hips caused me to push in even deeper, I pushed all the way in as far as I could go.

”It feels good.” She panted

I moved my head down and sucked her nipples causing her to release her hold on my neck my sucking of her nipples, sending her into another orgasm. While I could feel her vagina muscles rippling and flexing invitingly as now I pushed deep inside her.

Then as she groaned “Oh Alan "It feels so GOOD Alan please.”

I began to move in and out steadily with my cock. The feelings were so intense I knew I could not last long and much to my dismay I felt my cock pulsing hard against the entrance to her womb, filling her with my seed. However I kept my hardness and I started moving again. Beanie responded, her hips moving wildly her legs locked behind me with enthusiasm her thighs, holding me tight.

Her head was tossing from side to side, her hair flailing against the pillow until quite quickly I felt her body tense and she almost screamed “Yes, Yes, Yes please don’t stop.” and I could feel her juices joining mine, as our bodies locked together as she flopped and came, she finally fell back limp and exhausted as I continued pumping my juices inside her until I was sated and I too fell back exhausted.

As the days passed my memory as Alan Nash in my new life quickly recovered, and I began to adjust to life in wartime Britain. I missed many things from my previous life in the year 2000 such as a TV and my computer, but the end of the week I was adjusting quickly to my new life, and able to leave the house on my own and begin to talk to the neighbours.

My mother reminded me that I had a job in the Post Office as a telegram boy for a princely sum of 12/6d a week plus overtime. I went along to see the Postmaster to assure him that I would return to work as soon as I possibly could. The postmaster was quite sympathetic, but was obviously under great pressure. I remembered him as a kindly man, who had taken me on when I had got the sack from my previous job for putting a Bob Martins dog powder in the General Managers coffee.

At the time it was a practical joke intended for someone else which had misfired badly. It had caused great mirth in the office at the time as one bright wit had put it “He was barking mad:” and another said “He was not wagging his tail when he came back to work.”

However, to continue I was told by one of the counter girls that the Postmasters son had been posted as missing on a leaflet dropping mission over Germany. I genuinely felt for him, he was a nice man, but I had very little sympathy for the Superintendent who I regarded as a bitter and twisted man, and who on occasion made my life and the other telegram boy’s life a misery.

Although my pay was not much, I did earn a little extra as overtime, occasionally I received tips. Many nights I found myself working late as I had to cycle for long distances in the blackout. I also did fire watching for at least one night a week. For the princely sum of 4/- a night That meant that I had to sleep on the premises and put out any fires that were caused by incendiary bombs falling on the premises, during a raid. Fortunately that situation never arose.

Most nights when I was not fire watching we would find ourselves with home made sleeping bags going to the underground station well before the sirens sounded. The womens Voluntary services would make coffee or tea for tuppence a cup and usually before long; a sing-song would start with the favourite songs of the day being sung with great gusto. The songs made famous by Vera Lynn and Gracie Fields which were currently the forces favourites. We always tried our best to ignore the sound of the bombs dropping above us and the guns firing. Each morning however, we would emerge after a night’s raid not knowing whether we were homeless or not.

On the few nights that we stayed at home, usually when the weather was bad, and we were fairly sure that the bombers would not come, it was usual for my mother and I to sleep together. I soon learned that my mother was indeed a very passionate woman and I began to wonder seriously what would happen if I should make her pregnant.

Saturday nights were special nights. Providing there was no air raid. It was bath night and when mother returned from work, the galvanized tin bath would be taken down from the wall in the yard, and placed in front the kitchen fire and mother would fill the bath with hot water with every pot she could find being used on the gas cooker or on the coal fired range.

Mandy my sister would usually be the first to bathe followed by me and then my mother. The idea was that the cleanest person should go first so as not to dirty the water. Hot water was added between each bath. Coal was severely rationed and we had to make what little we had go a long way. Frequently we could scrounge wood from bombed out buildings to help in cooking and providing hot water.

The bath would be freezing on the side away from the fire, but we were inclined to get a nasty burn if you touched the side next to the coal fire. Following the bath we would turn the radio on, and listen to the Saturday news followed by “In town tonight.” The announcer would say “Tonight we halt the roar of Londons traffic to bring you people of importance who are in town tonight.” This would be followed by interviews with celebrities and was always interesting to listen to.

At one time when I was younger I remembered how I would imagine some man leaping out into the middle of the traffic and holding his hand up, to get the people into the studio to talk into the microphone.

Saturday night would be a night when the family would get together This would be a night when mother would use our sweet ration and we would suck our few sweets while listening to the radio. Sometimes mother would make some bread pudding which was a great favourite of mine. Even Mandy would behave herself and unless she had a date, would treat me with grudging civility. I think at the time mother had threatened her if she did not behave.

Beanie would often join us with her mother Dora an older version of Beanie and a close friend of mothers. Beanie and I had few opportunities for sex because we were not inclined to let our parents know that our relationship had developed to that level. However other opportunities soon began to open up for me.

Sunday breakfast would be our one egg a week ration followed by Sunday lunch when we would gather round the table with our meagre meat joint of 4 oz per person, supplemented by an occasional sausage of dubious parentage, unless of course we could get an occasional rabbit to supplement our weekly ration, or some occasional offal which was not rationed. In addition we would be allowed a small ration of dried egg, which I personally thought was quite nice made up into omelets.

My life as a telegram boy was quite interesting in many ways. We had the normal routine telegrams for birthdays and which were often news that husbands or boy friends were coming home on leave. But these were frequently interspersed by the nasty telegrams informing relatives that their husbands or sons were either “killed in action” or “missing believed killed.” The girls taking the telegrams in the post office would warn us so that we could alert neighbours or relatives first if we knew them that we were carrying bad news.

But this was also a time when many women were finding that life was a bit lonely. They did not have the money or the clothes to go out, and for a woman to enter a pub on her own was definitely not on. But a handsome young man arriving in the black out, was a bonus that often could not be ignored. Increasingly my colleagues and I found that we were increasingly being invited in for a drink especially if we brought good news or perhaps a “Happy Birthday.’ Telegram.

Some of these ladies were very persuasive and my sex life began to get very busy and I began to realise that I was in danger of losing my beloved Beanie, if some of these escapades became public knowledge. It was time for me to move on, and to look for other employment. Fortunately the education and experience I had acquired in my previous life had stopped with me, and I hoped that later I would be able to exploit that to my own advantage.