I knew quite a lot of the men who enlisted to fight for King and country; I went to the same school that they did. The townspeople lined the streets as the battalion which became known as the Dover riflemen marched proudly through the town down to the docks to embark on a troopship to take them to France. I knew as indeed did most people that some of those men would never return home. 

For the first few months, nothing happened so everyone just assumed that the whole thing would be settled by negotiations and everyone would come home again. We could not have been more wrong? Life in the town carried on as best it could. The bookshop remained open and our regular customers came in as usual.

Ruth and I spent many happy hours together. I was a comfort to her in many ways and she to me. To be honest it just didn't feel like the country was at war. Ruth received letters from her husband but in his situation, there was never anything of interest to say, so together we would write quite long interesting replies.

Ruth enclosed a silver locket and chain with a lock of her almost black hair. A sweet gesture I thought. I woke one morning quite early and decided that it was time for some radical changes.

The bad girl better known as me would become a good girl? Out of the draw came my big baggy knickers along with my heavy thick petticoat and full brassier. It felt awful and it looked dreadful.

That day at the shop I felt so uncomfortable after being liberated for quite some time. A trussed up Turkey that was me? It was dark when I left the shop at about five pm. I went the long way home down Brown Street and then across the town square into the park.

Hiding behind a clump of bushes I removed with great haste my baggy knickers, brassier, and heavy old petticoat leaving them for someone to find and maybe even to enjoy? My attempt at being good had failed totally? 

That evening as I lay naked on my bed I looked lovingly at all the pages from the books which I had pasted on the wall. I never knew any of the names but I found comfort just by looking at them. My imagination would often go into overdrive. I would put on special shows for my pretend friends? This always ended with me wanking hard and fast.

One evening towards Christmas time I had the most wonderful but rather naughty idea? I would write letters addressed to the commanding officer of the Dover Riflemen's platoon in  France. It was worth taking a chance. I called myself Mrs. Susan Armstrong and I would invite Ruth to take part.

Ruth was as keen as I was. Imagine it, young men, in the trenches, freezing cold soaking wet and standing in wet slimy stinking mud ankle-deep. What would lift their spirits more than a letter from a lady called Susan being passed around from man to man?

At first, our letters were just a little naughty but before long they became much more sexual almost to the point of depravity? We were almost certainly responsible for some very stiff cocks and no doubt rather a lot of wanking in the trenches. Maybe friends did it for each other? 

In the late spring/early summer of 1915, the war started in earnest. The losses on both sides were dreadful. Ruth and I increased our letter writing to about one every two weeks. About this time I realised that I was in difficulties

I could no longer separate my wonderful world of fantasy from stark reality? Something needed to be done and quickly because I had no intention of ending up in Bedlam.

In a fit of panic, I tore down all the pages pasted on the wall and dumped all the books outside knowing that they would be taken by passers-by. I was fighting my own war and I had to win it? Ruth was so supportive and she was not in my imagination. She was real very real and all woman?

Sometimes I could hear the sound of the heavy guns discharging their deadly cargo. The sound was like a thud, thud, thud. My mind began to wander. What hell were those young men going through? I wanted to bring them home. Bathe them feed them and love each and everyone one of them. Motherly love you could say.

In the summer of 1916, I heard the tragic news that Mr. Simon had been killed in action. He was my friend and mentor at the bookshop. Again the shop closed for a few days as a mark of respect. That evening I was trying to enjoy a glass of apple wine but my thoughts were distant.

Why did I never allow Mr. Simon to fuck me in the book cellar? He had been trying for years. Did he meet his death never having enjoyed intimate times with a female? I felt guilt! The wine had taken its toll on me. My overcoat was all that was needed as I slipped out into the night. Rain was forecast. There were many public houses around the docks but the most likely was the Bull and Bush?

I had to wait in the dark alleyway for several minutes before a suitable gentleman staggered out of the pub door. Being a good Samaritan I offered to help him on his way. No sooner had I put a supportive arm around him than he had hold of my tits? Rough behaviour and foul language seemed to be his way?

I got him into a little dark alcove and to his surprise, I soon had his cock out. It was of good size and more than a little stiff. I did what I had never done.  I sucked a cock, it was basic and depraved but I just needed to do it. So strange of all the men I could have approached it was Mr. Andrews my old school Music teacher who was on the receiving end of my warm wet soft mouth?

Ruth came into the bookshop one afternoon clearly out of breath. She was clutching a brown envelope. I read the enclosed letter. Her husband had been badly injured and was on his way to a hospital in Dover. There were no further details. For several days we checked at all the seven Hospitals but there was no sign of him.

Then on the 9th  day of looking we found him. What a shock it was. He had lost half his right leg and all of his right arm, also he was blind in his right eye. He left us as a fine handsome young man and came back a complete wreck. War was a dirty business.

Joe was in Hospital for months. They fitted him with artificial limbs, they were hideous looking things. After what seemed an eternity Joe was discharged but things were not as they had been between him and Ruth. She came to me more and more and Joe became quite distant.

During the time Joe was in France, Ruth and I created our own world of experimenting including infancy?  Ruth was at times my Baby? I loved that woman more than anything and I wanted her all to myself? The senseless carnage of the war came to an end in 1918.

Of the men who left the town in 1914, only twenty-six returned and one of them was my eldest brother Martin. I could not hold back my floods of tears when I saw him. My other two brothers worked in the Coal mines throughout the war.

I met Martin at his request about a week later by the fountain in the town's park. It was almost dusk and there were very few people around. We embraced firmly it was just so good to see him. The prominent bulge in his trousers left me in no doubt about his hopes and aspirations?

Words were not needed. My brother spent four long years in the hell of the trenches. Its thanks to him and many other men that Great Britain won the war. There was an old wooden hut over towards the far side of the park. I was more than pleased to allow Martin to shove his big stiff cock deeply into my soft lubricated cunt and fuck me hard and long. 

Sadly Ruth's husband Joe could not erase the horrors from his memory of what he saw during the war and he ended up in Bedlam. There was now no one between me and my darling Ruth. Martin, Ruth, and I formed a pact of total secrecy. Had we ever been found out we would have almost certainly gone to prison or even joined Joe in Bedlam? We were a very happy trio two willing cunts and one very willing cock.