Despite the widely-held reputation that ATS girls received for being romantically precocious, many of its members were in fact, at the outbreak of war, as innocent as babies. One of these such members was Eleanor Taylor-Jenkins - or El as she was known, sharing her given name with her mother, Eleanor Taylor, and her grandmother, great-grandmother and so on. The Eleanors had all gone to the same public girls' school, and due to the family's immense wealth were the only pupils to board in their own room, with their own toilet and bath, and their own maid. At Bletchley no such fineries were available, at any cost, and so Eleanor found herself sharing a dormitory with some twenty-nine other girls, and shower facilities with some eight-nine others, and became herself a maid, of sorts, to the male codebreakers at Bletchley, serving them teas and coffees and food, as well as cleaning and tidying their spaces.
You might think why on earth would a girl of such standing have such a role, her mother most certainly did, she wondered it every day, but Eleanor was desperate to help in whatever means necessary, and this was pretty much the only one she could do, given she had neither the intelligence to work in an office, nor the dexterity to work in a factory, nor could she ride a bicycle let alone drive an ambulance.
Her behind was lightly spanked by no fewer than three of the men the very first time she left the after dinner longue having delivered port and cigars. The first time she was shocked, the second time she noticed an indescribable tang of... was it pleasure? could it be?... and the third time she positively squealed with excitement. She was hooked. She liked men. And she liked having her posterior thwacked by them.
Her first attempts to talk to one privately had failed miserably, and she had gone all red in the face, brought up death, and then ran away almost in tears. It was then that one of the other girls suggested she go to the pub, have a beer, and then maybe try there, after some
dutch courage!
She didn't know beer was Dutch, or maybe it was the pub that was Dutch. She agreed, and the following night, Friday night, they went, a small group of girls who apparently had been doing so every weekend since they arrived, to the Lion, a two mile walk from Bletchley, which was full of uniformed men, some of them she recognized but most she did not.
After two half pints of beer, which she sipped as quickly as she could, Eleanor started to feel quite dizzy, and said that perhaps she was coming down with something and ought to go home, but it was quickly explained to her that that tingly feeling inside of her was exactly what they had been seeking, and that it was that that would help her get a man to 'smack more than just you're bum!'.
One of the girls got her another half of beer, and with it clasped between her hands like Oliver's bowl of porridge, she stood up and walked over to the man that looked nice, and gentle, and wasn't in conversation. He was nice, and quickly
they
were in conversation, the only conversation in the entire pub to traverse the genders, despite their being two dozen men and at least half as many women.
As they talked, Henry, the gorgeous man, had his hand rested on the edge of a table, with his arm a little outstretched as a result, and after a few minutes she moved a little closer, resting her bum on his hand, and her back on his arm, as she smiled up at him.
He turned his hand round, and grabbed lightly onto her arse instead of the table, and she smiled more, and he smiled back. The conversation continued for another twenty or so minutes, until they had both finished they drinks and when offered another she said: 'or maybe we could go outside for a bit?' and winked.
She led him outside, now holding his hand, causing quite the stir in the pub, which the other girls watched, sure that they'd be in trouble for it later if word got back to the house. Eleanor had never been kissed, though she knew of kissing, from the romantic novels she had read from the previous two centuries. It was raining, obviously, as it often did in those novels, though she didn't remember any mention of the man's tongue entering the woman's mouth, as it did her mouth after about a minute.
Once they'd finally stopped kissing, sensing that he wanted to do more, and herself wanting to but not knowing how, she leant up and whispered in his ear: 'we can do whatever you want, Henry, you just have to show me the way,' and with that, feeling like the luckiest man on the planet, Henry took her hand this time and led her a ways down the road, and into a nearby field.
In the field, under cover of darkness, and sure that nobody would come out with the wind and the rain as it was, he gently and softly asked her to take off her clothes, sure that she wouldn't actually do this, that she was definitely winding him up, or that he was about to wake up all wet and sticky, but she did, every single one of them, revealing her ruby red nipples and the jet black hair that covered her untainted pussy. With one hand he travelled up and down her body, stroking each nipple slowly, and making them harden under his fingers, and then sliding up and down her pussy, wet from the rain, but also wet from his touch.
He then asked her to kneel down and take down his trousers, and pulled his braces off his shoulders to let her. She stared up at him smilingly as she undressed him, and having taken down his trousers she lightly grasped his erection, through his underwear, and rolled her hand back and forth along the shaft. He told her, a little more firmly, to pull down his trousers, and then he pressed his cock against her mouth, which confused her a little, unsure of what to do.
She looked up at him, with a frown, and he smiled back and opened his mouth in demonstration. She opened hers, and he slid his cock into it, quickly reaching the throat, and then pulling out again and repeating. She sucked him off for about fifteen minutes, gradually shifting from him moving in and out of her mouth, to her moving up and down his cock. When he was ready to finish he pulled out and came on her face, covering her lips, cheeks and nose. Some went into her mouth; it was salty and warm, and made her gag a little, but she closed her mouth and swallowed it, before licking what she could reach from her lips. He redressed himself and told her to stand up, and then kissed her again softly, the cum from her nose rubbing off on his own, and then he placed his hand between her legs and played with her clitoris, holding her up with his other hand as she gradually lost control of her legs.
'Would you like to cum, Angela?' he said.
'Eleanor,' she corrected, 'and I don't know what that is, but I think so.'
'Then beg me?'
'Beg you?'
'Yes, say 'please, sir, please can I come'.'
And she did: she pleaded with him, and as she did she started to realise what she thought he meant, and indeed she was desperate for something. It felt like a pressure was building up inside of her, and she desperately needed to be released of it.
'Say 'thank you sir',' he told her, once she'd finished.
'Thank you, sir,' she said, in a very genuine fashion, looking deep into his eyes, that were staring back at her cum-covered face.
He picked up her panties, and wiped her face clean with them, before throwing them over the fence into the next field, and then told her to put on the rest of her clothes.
He held her hand and they walked back to Bletchley.
'I'd like to fuck you, tomorrow, Eleanor. Would you like that?'
'Yes, sir,' she said.
'At midnight tomorrow night meet me in the men's showers by Block A.'
'Yes, sir,' she said, again.
*
She got to the showers five minutes early, to find Henry already there. He asked if she was a virgin, and she nodded. He took off her clothes and folded them in a pile on the windowsill, and then positioned her facing the wall, bent over slightly, with her legs a foot apart.
He took out his already hard cock, and pressed it against her already wet pussy, reaching round with both hands on her tits, pinching at her nipples as he started to push into her. It hurt a lot, and though he went slowly he was still forceful.
'You know that you're going to bleed, don't you, Eleanor?'
'Will I?'
'You will. So don't panic, it's perfectly normal.'
