The Summer of '42
Copyright© 2020 by Lubrican
Chapter 10
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 10 - When my brother and I found an old trunk in the attic of Grandma's house, he was interested in the WW II relics our grandfather brought back from the war. I was interested in the diary Grandpa's sister had written. It detailed things she did with her twin before he, too, went off to war. They weren't the kinds of things that were acceptable, then or now. But they excited me, and then they excited my brother. Somehow, what had happened between siblings 70 some odd years ago happened again.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Romantic Fiction Historical Incest Brother Sister First Masturbation Petting Pregnancy
Grandpa did record stories, tons and tons of them. I still listen to some of them from time to time. He talked about each of his siblings, and gave an account of where all he went in the Army. He talked about everything except combat, only making oblique references to those horrors. An example is: “When we got to Rome, Anzio had reduced our strength by half, and our unit was consolidated into another.”
That single sentence encompasses months of pain and fear and deprivation, as well as the death of hundreds of his friends. I’m still amazed that, in this day and age, when people practically have a nervous breakdown if their name is spelled wrong on their Starbucks cup, that he could process what happened to him and stay sane. And not only did he stay sane, he raised a family and had a career and so much more.
His stories were of every stripe and nature. In one, he talked about buying his very first brand new car, a 1956 Desoto Firedome Seville, and how he was afraid to drive it, lest it get scratched or dented. In another he talked about riding triple on a horse to school, with his two older brothers. He talked about the different jobs he had after WWII, which included selling insurance, working at a grain elevator, and starting his own blade and knife sharpening business. He also repaired and sold vacuum cleaners at his shop.
He mentioned his sister, Jennifer, and her son, Jonathan, but only to say much the same he’d said to us. No mention of Jonathan’s father was made.
His last comment was that he felt privileged to have served his country, and take part in the action that allowed him to watch as freedom in the United States flourished during his later years.
“Though the cost was high, it was worth that cost,” he finished. “I’m proud that one of my grandsons has carried on, and is defending liberty as I speak these words.”
We never did talk to cousin Jonathan about his lineage. He was about six or seven years older than my dad, and his three daughters, Christine, Anne, and Twyla, were all in their twenties. Two of them already had children, who were those strange cousins we’d met at that family reunion. We found this out from Grandpa when we went back to get the digital recorder. He never mentioned anything about Bobby and my relationship, again. I would have liked to tell him about all the similarities between us and between his brother and sister, but even if I’d been brave enough to just admit it to him, we never got a chance to be alone long enough that I could relate that. Nor did I ever get the chance to find out what “excited” meant in his description of what reading her diary produced in him. He’d said he didn’t feel about her what Herb felt about her. But “porn,” as Bobby had classified this, has excited people for centuries, even if they didn’t emulate that porn precisely. It must have been ... interesting ... for him to look at his sister and know what she and his dead brother had done. And he didn’t just know, he had details, places, dates, even the number of times they made love on a given outing. And all the time he had to preserve her secret so that she wouldn’t know that he knew.
I also felt like I had just a glimpse into how she felt when she faced living a life without her lover, without the father of her child. It must have been hard enough to lose her brothers at all, but the loss of Herb had made her into what amounted to a spinster. She had never loved again.
I knew, deep in my heart, that I could not keep what I had with Bobby forever. I could not marry him or live with him and have his children. That, alone, brought sadness into my heart. But he wasn’t dead. I would be able to talk to him, and hug him, and maybe even kiss him in the future. If things worked out, we might even be able to make love every so often. I didn’t know how all that would turn out. All I knew was that he was alive and I had options my long gone great aunt did not. Nor was I saddled with a child at the tender age of sixteen. I believe, also deep in my heart, that if an accident happened and Bobby did impregnate me, I’d love that child, no matter what. I would resist giving it up for adoption, no matter how hard that made my life. I could not let go of a piece of him, even if he wasn’t dead. How Jennifer must have felt about Jonathan would have been miles ahead of my mere imaginings.
