This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue,
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This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental.
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My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault.
I am trying to use terms that were used by us who were young in the UK at that time, and not to use anachronistic terms, like gay, blow job, wank, and cum. It is surprising how difficult it is.
If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages.
Two Jubilees and One Spitfire.
Resume:- Trevor a lad from the East End of London, is doing his National Service in the Army. He was wounded in Korea, and has returned to the UK. Time 1953.
Part 18
Trevor worked hard at his physiotherapy. He soon discarded his crutches and graduated onto a pair of sticks. He had a session with the M.O. every week.
"I see you're on a couple of sticks, Russell. Let me see how you get on with them." He took Trevor out into the corridor outside his office. "I want to watch you walk up and down this corridor."
He watched Trevor. "That is good, very good. I will send you home for fourteen days. Where do you live?"
"Leytonstone, north east London, just into Essex."
"Can you get someone to meet you at Waterloo and see you home?"
"Easy. I could ring tonight. I am sure my guardian can meet me."
"Come and see me tomorrow to tell me what you have arranged."
Two days later Trevor was on the transport provided to Southampton station. He was seen on to the train. He sat looking out of the window, watching the English countryside pass. He remembered another train journey back to London, with his father in the spring of 1940 when they journeyed back to the maelstrom of war-torn London.
Isaac was waiting at the barrier. He took the small pack, while Trevor hobbled on his two sticks.
"You doing well, Trev."
"I'm getting on. Improving each day. I've got to do a lot of exercises."
They made their way down on to the Drain. [Footnote 1.] At the Bank they made their way through the tunnels to the Central Line where they caught the train out to Leytonstone.
They were into each others arms the moment the front door of 37 Chelmsford Road was closed.
"Good to have you home!"
"Good to be home!" added Trevor.
"Good to get my arms around you, Trev."
Trevor thrust his groin at Isaac. "I can feel someone else who is pleased to feel me."
"And I can feel someone, who is standing to attention eager for a closer contact. But I expect you are tired after your journey. We've got fourteen whole days ahead. Come and sit down while I get us something to eat."
"No! I want to change out of this uniform. I'll do that while you prepare some grub." Trevor made his way upstairs. He changed in the front bedroom,
but he looked into 'his' room, the middle bedroom. He went over to the chest of drawers, and opened the top. There, where he had left it was Harry's Spitfire. He took it out and held it for a moment, and then placed on the top. 'That shows I'm home,' he thought.
They ate their late lunch, talking nineteen to the dozen. Then Isaac made
a pot of tea, and they sat in the two arm chairs either side of the fire-place.
"I almost regret you've grown," said Isaac. "We can no longer sit cuddling in these chairs as we used to."
"Like that first time. When to my surprise you sucked my cock for the first time."
"That was a magical time. I think that first meeting changed both our lives."
"I sometimes wonder what would have become of me if Bill had not sent me to you that cold December day." mused Trevor.
"I know I would have become a crusty old man"
"Who says you haven't become one anyway?" added Trevor with his usual grin.
Isaac stood up, and came across and ruffled Trevor's hair. "I've got something to show you." He got an envelope and handed it to Trevor, and then went back to his seat to watch the boy.
Trevor opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of heavy paper. He started reading:- "This is the last Will and Testament of me Flora Margaret MacClean of White House, Strontian, in the County of Argyllshire, Scotland made this twenty-third day of March in the year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Fifty Two."
"Just four days before she died?" said Trevor looking across at Isaac who nodded.
Trevor continued, "I hereby revoke all former Wills made by me and declare this to be my last Will and Testament. I appoint my solicitor Hector Montgomery MacDonald of MacDonalds, MacGregor and McArthur, High Street, Fort William as sole executor of my Will. I give the following pecuniary legacies:- 1. To the Free Kirk of Scotland in Strontian the sum of one hundred pounds. 2. To my doctor, Doctor Alexander Murray MacKenzie of Sunart House, Strontian, for all his care of myself, my sister and companion over the years, the sum of fifty pounds. 3. To Fergus MacKenzie of Sunart House for his friendship the sum of ten pounds."
"Fergus?" said Trevor.
"Yes, read on."
Trevor read on through a further four small bequests to people who he did not know. "After payment of all my testamentary and funeral expenses and liabilities I bequeath all the remainder of my personal and real estate to be divided equally between Isaac Rose, of 37 Chelmsford Rd, Leytonstone in the County of Essex, for the love and care he has shown me in recent years; and Trevor Russell of 37 Chelmsford Rd., Leytonstone in the County of Essex,
for his devotion and friendship."
Trevor looked up at Isaac his mouth wide open in amazement.
Isaac had a broad grin on his face. "She was very, very fond of you, Trev."
"I knew she liked me, as I liked her. But to remember me in her will! I thought she might leave you something. But the remainder divided equally between us."
"There is a little more." added Isaac. "You cannot use the capital of your part without my permission until your twenty fifth birthday."
"Can I ask the sordid question?"
"How much?"
Trevor nodded.
"It all depends on what we do. There is the house. There are various things that might be worth a bit, but which we may decide to hold on to. Her cutlery is good quality early Victorian silver. We have to decide what to do with things. It does not mean you can live the rest of your life in debauched idleness, but it will help you quite a lot."
"I just don't know what to say," said Trevor.
They sat in silence for a while. Then Trevor looked up at Isaac. With a broad grin he raised his eye brows and looked up with a questioning look on his face. Isaac immediately understood the question being asked. He nodded. Isaac got up and stretching out a couple of hands pulled Trevor to his feet. He gave him a soft kiss on the lips, "I love you, Trev." He opened the door and signalled for Trevor to lead the way.
"I'm not very good at going up stairs. Can't push myself up on my bad leg,
yet."
"Want a hand?"
"No. I must manage by myself." Trevor made his way slowly upstairs, trying not to use the banister to pull himself up.
As they passed the open door to middle bedroom, Isaac looked in. "I see you've got Harry's Spitfire out."
"Yes, to show I'm home. Like the Royal Standard on Buck House when the King, oooh, sorry, when the Queen is in residence."
They made their way into their front bedroom.
"Trev, I want to undress you."
"You haven't done that for years."
"I know. I want to enjoy you afresh, almost for a first time." Isaac drew closer to Trevor, and kissed him softly on the lips. Looking into Trevor's warm brown eyes, he started undoing the buttons of the shirt. Slowly one after another, doing it completely by feel, he worked his way down until he was stopped by the top of Trevor's trousers. Only then did he lower his eyes, and pulling the shirt fronts to each side, he looked at Trevor's chest.
"You've got a lot more hair here in the last year." He stroked it with his hand. "It's so soft. It's beautiful." He bent down and kissed each of Trevor's nipples.
Trevor sighed, and began to stroke Isaac's thick lustrous hair.
"I want to kiss everyone of those hairs, greeting them as new friends."
"You can make that the long term project for this leave," said Trevor, with a laugh.
Isaac started kissing Trevor's neck and then began to kiss his way down his chest until he reached his trousers. He knelt down before Trevor. He undid the belt, and slowly undid the fly buttons, again by feel while looking up into Trevor's eyes.
Isaac undid Trevor's shoes and removed them. Then he removed the socks. He placed several kisses on the insteps of the feet. "I am going to see what those Communists did to the beautiful body of my son and lover."
"You sound like a certain author," said Trevor.
Isaac laughed, "I suppose I do." He lowered the trousers, and when Trevor had stepped out of them, he folded them, and put them on one side. As he pulled the pants down he kissed. First there were several kisses to the site that had conveyed nourishment to the unborn Trevor. He continued to kiss his way further down through an increasingly thick amount of hair. Then the cock which he loved so much began to be revealed in all its masculine fullness. Slowly he pulled down the white pants. "Trevor! It's bigger and more beautiful than ever." He covered it with gentle kisses. "Now let me see what they've done to you." He pulled the pants down. There on the thigh about three inches below the lowest part of Trevor's left testicle was the scar. It was whiter than the surrounding skin. He could see clearly the scars where the stitches had been. He ran his hand softly over it. "It is almost completely smooth."
"Yea. The medics say it should almost disappear with time."
"But it was so near your vital equipment." He kissed the scar several times. Then he looked up at Trevor. "I thank God that you've come back safe and sound."
"I am thinking more and more about God. I can't get over the fact that Nanny Flora prayed for my safety and I was wounded the day after she died."
Isaac stood up. "Trevor, I have kept you standing all this time while I took my pleasure with you." He pointed to the bed, and Trevor clambered on to it. Isaac undressed. Trevor watched him. "I can't undress in the suggestive way you do."
"I don't know about that, but I enjoy watching you reveal what is going to bring me so much pleasure. As much pleasure, as that second time when I was a shivering urchin in this bed."
Isaac was soon undressed. They lay close together. "Being apart for over a year has made me realise something new."
"What's that?"
"I hope you won't take this amiss. I think I have realised for the first time that smell, or perhaps I should say your scent, is something that I love, and stirs me. As I undressed you, yes, your arm pits, and your groin especially, just thrilled me. They were smells of a healthy young man, but more especially of my son and lover, Trevor Russell."
"Why have you started calling me son? You never used to in that way."
"I think because it sounded incestuous. I suppose it still does. When I think of you as my son I can be proud of you, your achievements, school, Cambridge and what you did in Korea."
Trevor just smiled, and kneeling alongside Isaac began to kiss his way from forehead to groin. He ended with several minutes of sucking Isaac's hard cock, and swishing his tongue over and around the head
"It's been over a year since I felt that."
"Poor old Isaac. I had Frank on the boat back."
"Will you see him again."
"No. We didn't even exchange addresses. It was purely a matter of cocks, and none of hearts. I think there would have been heart if Eric and I......"
"I think there is hurt with you over Eric, even if it didn't go all the way."
"Just a couple of kisses, and a grope or two." Trevor was still.
Isaac stroked Trevor's hair, and then kissed his forehead.
"How do you want me, Isaac? English or Scottish? I'll have you tonight." This was said with the familiar grin.
"English, please." Isaac hauled himself up so that his head was against the head-board and he could watch. He opened his legs wide.
Trevor lay on his stomach between Isaac's legs. There was much licking, and many kisses of the whole area before he started sucking. He took it slowly. He was conscious of Isaac's mounting arousal. Eventually there came the final swelling and hardening, and then the mighty pulses as Isaac's spunk shot into Trevor's mouth.
They cuddled for several minutes and they both dozed off briefly. Then Isaac got his delight and did the same to Trevor. When they made a move the time was nearly seven o'clock. They had been over three hours making love. While Isaac prepared a meal Trevor went round to see Mr and Mrs Stevens and Tom next door.
The fourteen days of Trevor's leave passed quickly. He persevered with his exercises. Even on the first evening Trevor and Isaac had walked to the end of the road and back, a distance of a couple of hundred yards. He went for a walk each morning, afternoon and evening, steadily increasing the distance he covered. He got his bicycle working and went out on that, again steadily increasing the distance. He began to walk using just one stick.
In the second week they had two outings. Trevor met Isaac after work, and they went to the theatre and to the new Festival Hall on the South Bank to a Beethoven and Mozart concert.
The only trouble was that Trevor's bad dreams continued. Most nights he woke after a bad dream. He was always in a situation where he was in danger and being attacked. Usually he sat up in bed, and stared around. He had to get up. A visit to the lavatory whether needed or not, usually calmed him enough to get back into bed and to go to sleep.
Trevor and Isaac were in bed one night towards the end of the leave. Trevor had a typical dream. After Trevor's trip downstairs to the lavatory they started talking.
"I've been thinking a lot about Eric," said Trevor snuggling into Isaac as he used to as a small boy. "He saved my life. I think I feel guilty."
"Guilty! What on earth for?"
"Because I survived, I lived, and Eric was killed, shot down saving me."
"Would you have done the same for him.?"
"Yes," said Trevor immediately. Softly he added, "At least I hope so. It is difficult to say what I would have done in the heat of hand to hand fighting."
"That sounds a very honest answer," said Isaac with a kiss.
"I wonder if guilt is the natural emotion of a survivor from something like what happened on Hill 226?"
"Maybe. I feel as though there is some unfinished business with Eric."
"The sex you were looking forward to in Japan?"
"No. Something deeper than that. Something in my heart not to do with my cock."
"I think a sudden death always leaves significant unfinished business. All deaths leave us wishing we'd said this, or done that. I even felt it with Nanny Flora. But with a young man like Eric, sudden death, and a growing intimate friendship leaves even more."
Trevor was silent for at least a full minute. "I think I would like to see his parents. I would like to meet them. If they want, to tell them about Eric's last moments. I would not tell them about his head bursting open and blood and brains coming all over me. But I'd tell them the main details."
"It might well help you. Do you know where they live."
"I don't know the exact address. I know the name of the village. I would write first. I reckon a letter with surname only would reach them, unless the village is full of people with the same name."
"Why don't you?"
"I think I will, when I have another long leave."
Trevor went back to the Royal Victoria Hospital at Netley. The M.O. was very pleased with his progress. "I can see that you've been doing all your exercises. You are now down to one stick, and a few steps without that. I think we'll start the process for your discharge."
"How long will that take?" asked Trevor.
"It usually takes ten to fourteen days."
Twelve days later Trevor was on the train back to London. He was a civilian again. Isaac did not need to meet him at Waterloo. He went home, did his exercises, and prepared a meal for when Isaac got home from work.
Then he sat down and wrote a letter:- Dear Mr and Mrs Hassock, I do not know whether your son Eric mentioned me in any of his letters home from Korea. We became good friends in the final months there. In fact I was with him when he was killed. He often spoke to me about his home and family. I wondered if would be possible for me to visit you. I have worked it out that I can get to Norwich and back in a day if there is a bus out to your village. Yours sincerely Trevor Russell. He addressed the envelope:- Mr and Mrs Hassock, [Parents of Private Eric Hassock] Weasenham St Paul, Norfolk.
Three days later there was a reply:- Dear Mr Russell, I hope you are well. Thank you for your letter. Eric told us he had made a friend called Trev. We miss Eric very much. We would like to see you. It is a long way to go in a day. If you would like to spend the nite with us. You can sleep in Eric's bed. I put in a copy of the bus times. Ask for the Bull, Weasenham St Paul, and let us know which bus you will be on and we will meet you. Yours truly Ada Hassock.
The next week Trevor went up to Norfolk. There was a middle aged woman waiting outside the Bull as he got off the bus. They smiled at each other.
"Mrs Hassock?"
"Mr Russell."
They shook hands.
"Do call me Trevor, or just Trev, Mrs Hassock."
They talked about the journey and Mrs Hassock led the way for a couple of hundred yards.
"Did you get your bad leg in Korea," asked Mrs Hassock.
"Yes. Same time as Eric was .....Mrs Hassock," He felt he was doing this badly.
"As Eric was killed." added Mrs Hassock. "I think you should call me Ada, if I'm to call you Trev."
"Okay, Ada."
They turned in to a small cottage.
"I don't know what you're used to Trev. But Eric said you were a bit posh,
and was going to go to be a student at Cambridge. But the toilet is up the garden."
Trevor laughed. "I'm used to that. When I was evacuated down to Somerset in 1939 it was down the garden. It'll feel home from home. I'm not posh really. I was born in the slums of London. But then got adopted by a good man when my parents died."
They went into the main downstairs room. On the mantelpiece stood a framed picture of Eric in his soldier's uniform. Trevor, put his stick down, and limped across. He lifted the picture and looked at it. "Eric!" he said.
"Yes. We had it taken proper on his last leave. So glad we did."
"Your son was a good man, Ada."
They were interrupted by Mr Hassock's entry. He was dressed in farm labourer's clothes. Introductions were made. He was called Bert.
"Boss 'as given me the rest of the day off, Ada, so I can spend the time with Mr Russell."
"Call me Trev," said Trevor.
Ada prepared a lunch of scrambled eggs.
After they had eaten and were still sitting at the table drinking cups of tea, Bert asked, "Trev, tell us now about Eric. You was with 'im at the end?"
"I'll tell you the whole story. I first started to know Eric when we had a few hours in Colombo. We just got talking. Then slowly we started spending more and more time together. We talked a lot. Laughed a lot. In Korea we were put into the same platoon, so we saw a lot of each other. On the last evening of our last rest break we talked a lot. We started planning our long leave in Japan. We would stick together. Do things together. We'd become really good mates. Then we went back up to the front. We were on Hill 226. The Reds attacked. Our bren gun was blasted over the lip of the trench. I went out to get it. We needed it. Eric came behind me to give me some cover. I was shot in the leg and broke it. Then Eric was shot and fell on top of me. He saved my life. I owe him everything."
Tears were running down all their faces. Ada got up from the table and came round and hugged Eric. "You said our Eric was a good boy, he was. And you're a good man too. What you've told us 'as made us very proud of our Eric. 'Ain't it, Bert?
They dried their eyes. Trevor looked across at Eric's photograph and it almost seemed that he smiled and nodded.
Bert asked if Trevor was up to walking round the village to see where Eric had spent his boyhood. They looked at the small village school.
"I used to help him with the spelling in his letters home to you."
"He were never good at spelling, Ada said that his spelling had improved.."
They went in the church, where Eric had been a choir boy. That was something Trevor did not know about.
They went to a stream that had been dammed and where the local boys swam.
"With nothing on, I gather, Bert."
Bert laughed. " 'E told you that did 'e?
They looked at the football pitch and cricket field, where Eric had played for the village side.
Bert asked a lot more questions about the fighting in Korea.
"Was it really instantaneous?"
"Yes, I am absolutely certain of that. Eric would not have known a thing. He did not suffer."
"Was there much blood?" asked Bert.
"Yes, a lot. Some of it went on me." Trevor did not mention the brains.
Back in the Hassock home Ada had prepared a meal of roast chicken, and apple sponge pudding and custard. Trevor gathered it was a special meal for his benefit.
In the evening Bert and Trevor went across to the Bull. There were about twenty men in the pub. Bert had told his and Eric's friends that Trevor who had been with Eric in Korea was coming.
"This is Trevor. 'E were with our Eric when 'e were killed."
Trevor found himself the centre of attention. He was bombarded with questions and in the course of the evening told them what had happened on Hill 226. "Eric was a hero. You can all be proud of him. He died saving my life." They all shared memories of Eric. "I think Eric's name should be added to those on the village war memorial," proposed the landlord. This suggestion was greeted with loud cries of "Hear! Hear!" Much beer was drunk, and some of the younger ones sang some of the songs Eric had liked.
At the end of the evening a man came and sat next to Trevor. "Eric was a special friend of mine. I live on the next farm. We saw a lot of each other."
Trevor turned and looked at the man. "I think he told me about you. Was he with you the last night of his last leave?"
"Yes. You know in what way we was special?" he whispered.
"Yes."
"Did you?"
"No. We were planning to on our leave in Japan. But he got killed just before that was due."
" 'E were great, if you know what I'm saying."
"Thanks for telling me."
When they got back to the Hassock home they were soon into bed. Eric's bedroom was small, with a sloping ceiling. Trevor thought about Eric as he got into bed. He had brought some pyjamas, but did not wear them. He thought Eric would not have wanted him to. Trevor slept well. He had a night of uninterrupted sleep. When he woke he lay on his back watching the sunlight shine through a gap in the curtains. He felt utterly at peace. He turned on to his side. Whether he dropped off again he never knew.
It seemed that Eric was alongside him. " 'ello, mate. Glad you got 'ere. Thanks for coming to see my folks. They're pleased, and they like you. You know, I'd do it again for you."
"Thanks Eric for everything. Pity we never..... I'll always remember you."
" See you," were the final words, and it seemed as though Eric faded away.
Trevor was asleep when Ada knocked on the door. "Can I come in, I've got a nice cup of tea for you."
When Trevor came down stairs for breakfast, he went over to Eric's picture on the mantelpiece and looked at it again.
"Did you sleep well?" asked Ada.
"Very well, best night's sleep for ages."
"All that beer," said Bert.
Trevor laughed. "Maybe. I am going to say something that sounds foolish. I felt that Eric was with me in his bedroom. For me he's not in a war grave in Korea, but home here, with you, loving you all."
Ada came and hugged Trevor. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel that he is close by."
Trevor continued to look at the photograph. "I wonder. I wonder if it is possible for me to get a copy of this photo."
"We've got a spare one. We'd like you to have it."
When he got home Trevor showed the photograph to Isaac, and after it was framed, he put it alongside Harry's Spitfire on the top of the chest of drawers.
Trevor had no more bad dreams.
*** Footnote:-
- The Drain. Londoners nickname for the first deep underground line that ran under the Thames from Waterloo Station to Bank.
I am afraid getting 'the certain author.' only gets you half a brownie point.
Jeff:- jeffyrks@hotmail.com