My names Lady Denisa Iâm 47 have been married to Lord Henry for nearly thirty years. The yearâs 1944 and my husbandâs a Wing Commander in the R.A.F. Heâs currently in Africa as Officer commanding Sidi Ben Alli. Heâs been there fighting the Nazis for nearly two years so not been back to England in that time.
Weâve five children all married and between them theyâve presented me with eight grandchildren, the oldest a thirteen year old boy.
Iâm five nine tall, grey haired and unfortunately my figure isnât as slim as it used to be. Iâve always had big breasts at 36c but admittedly theyâre beginning to droop a bit now. However with the help of a supportive bra I still cut a striking figure if the wolf whistles from the young enlisted men is anything to go by. My few boy friends were invariably vetted by my mother for their âclass suitabilityâ and I was chaperoned each time I was with a young man. I met (Hooray) Henry at my Debs coming out ball, eventually he asked for my hand and my Father the Duke gave him permission to marry me.
On our wedding night we had sex in the only socially acceptable position the missionary. It wasnât good, he just thrust until he came then turned away and slept with the satisfactory grin of someone whoâd âdone his dutyâ! I got no satisfaction at all but expected none, mother had told me to just lay back and think of England.
I got pregnant first time and our later infrequent functional sex acts resulted in the rest of our brood. This provided him with an heir and spares, which he said was the whole point of the messy sexual exercise.
Over time the children all moved away and we left our main estate for a small manor house when Lord Henry was posted to this East of England fighter base. On the odd occasion my husband wanted sex we used âOld Henryâ a reusable condom made of light pigskin. Neither of us got any fulfilment or sexual release from this but it was a marriage ritual that expected to be performed from time to time.
While my husbandâs been away I wasnât supposed to think of sex, it wouldnât have been proper. But living near my husbands home air base I was expected to socialize with the other (long time temporally parted) officerâs wives. Manny had young lovers and told me with relish of their infidelities.
Most of these women were sexual predators trying adventurous sexual positions Iâd never even dreamed of. Some werenât content having just one discrete high-class lover. Manny were having gangbangs as they called them with huts full of teenage enlisted men taking it in turn to fuck them all night. One even admitted that she liked three men to fuck her at once one in her pussy one analy and a third cumming in her mouth while she jacked off two others.
These young airmen were from working class backgrounds and the wives said they were completely uninhibited. Not making love or courting them for long term relationships. No these boys were what the wives called their bits of rough from the poorest areas of society. These crude male animals just fucked their officerâs wives purely for the sex.
Not being satisfied with their frequent orgies with young boys the officers wives occupied the airmenâs working hours with lesbian sex. Licking and rubbing their pussies together and experimenting with every form of article that could be accommodated in their vaginas as dildoâs. These were insatiable amoral and immoral slut wives the ultimate exponents of cuckoldry.
These highborn pampered females had decided to fuck frequently was their unquestionable right. Consequently if their wimpy husbands used the excuse of war to deny them their rights to uninhibited sex, it was logical to take as many substitute sexual partners as were available.
I did my best to obscure from my mind any thoughts of my fellow wives rampant sexuality and unfaithfulness. However in my lonely bed their lucid descriptions of how exciting their sexual adventures were haunted me. Even then I was too inhibited to masturbate these feelings away and so got more frustrated.
We officerâs wives were expected to attend functions to show the flag as it were. It was at one of these duty engagements that my life changed dramatically forever. I was invited to a welcoming dance in the officerâs mess, in honour of the first squadron of U.S.A. allies to be posted to my husbandâs home airfield.
Out of duty I went with the other wives to be formally introduced to the American officers. They were all white except for the first black skinned male Iâd ever encountered.
This pilot officer was not only black but also looked more like a thirteen-year-old boy. Heâd an almost feminine face and shook my proffered hand nervously. âLady Denisa.â I announced a bit haughtily to my shame. âKenny Black from Harlem, New York, U.S. of A. Mam.â he said shyly.
Later one of the other wives said sneeringly that blacks shouldnât be allowed here with us upper-class ladies. She droned on that he didnât even have handlebar moustaches like our husbands. She doubted the boy had even gone through puberty yet so couldnât grow hair on his upper lip or elsewhere. (Emphasizing the elsewhere with a snigger) The rest of the group of stuck up women laughed at the joke and the poor boy realized he was being ridiculed. It seemed that even these highly promiscuous wives drew the line at black men.
We all danced with the white officers but I noticed the baby faced black boy being ignored and looking so sad. This was unfair he was one of our allies risking his life for us after all. On a whim I offered to dance with the boy thirty years younger than myself. There were gasps of disproval from the other wives not because of his age I guessed, but because an older married senior officers wife was dancing with a black man.
The young looking black officer smiled shyly and accepted by saying, âMam!â I said on a whim âCall me Denisa!â This was unheard of; married women should always be addressed according to class protocol by formal titles such as Mrs or in my case, your Lady.
The black boy was a wonderful dancer, great rhythm and enthusiasm. I followed his lead and also danced uninhibitedly, probably because Iâd been drinking all evening on the free bourbon the Americans supplied. This was far stronger than the fine wine I was used to and it was getting me squiffy. I alternated partners, as a dutiful officers wife should. But as I was the only female whoâd dance with the black child as Iâd mentally christened Kenny, every other dance was with him. Weâd initially danced to fast records like in the mood; later as we got more inebriated they changed the music to slow tunes that provoked clingy type dancing
Kenny the black boy / man seemed reticent and disinclined to hold me close, so I pulled him to me. In an instant I realized the reason for his reluctance, what felt like a baseball bat in size and hardness pressed into my stomach. This black âchildâ was most definitely a man!
I should have been revolted pushed him away and walked off the dance floor and out of his life forever. But I hesitated for an instant and was lost, this young boy / man who looked no older than some of my grandchildren was sexually aroused by me a grey haired grandmother!
Had I been sober Iâd have remembered my position as a respectable long time married aristocrat. But in my drunken state my pussy automatically reacted to the boyâs closeness and was soaking my panties. Unconsciously my own body was lusting after this young boy with opposing coloured skin who wasnât even from my own class.
Luckily nobody was taking any notice of us, the other wives were just as drunk and the lights subdued. I couldnât stop myself pushing against the black boy again to better judge the size of his impressive erection. It must be false I thought, my husbandâs when he could get it up at all was only four inches long and far thinner than this massive object Iâd located against my body.
My husband Henry was the only man Iâd ever seen naked and been my only sexual partner. Thatâs why this huge hard thing confused me, as we danced I tried to gather my thoughts. If this was indeed the boys penis it had to be over a foot long. Not only that it felt thick against my forward leaning body, as wide as one of the bourbon bottles.
Still holding the young man to me I looked at his face properly for the first time, he was gorgeous. Heâd well-defined dark features with slightly larger lips than the local white men. He still looked like a thirteen year old but his massive erection confirmed he was the eighteen-year-old pilot he claimed.
The over indulgence of alcohol made me feel woozy and I unintentionally staggered against the black boy. He didnât show disapproval but spoke kindly to me asking if I wanted to go outside for some fresh air. I agreed but when the cold December air hit me I almost passed out and slipped on the ice. I went down with a bang damaging my leg and one arm. Kenny picked me up, asked if I was ok and should he fetch the medical officer.
I told him not to do that as I didnât want my husband to find out Iâd got drunk enough to fall over in public. I attempted to walk home but when I tried I couldnât manage it. Kenny offered to drive me there in his jeep and Iâd no real option but to accept. When we arrived at my manor house I tried to walk to my door but couldnât even make that short distance.
Kenny was concerned and prepared to help me. From my upbringing I knew I shouldnât allow him to enter my home while I was alone. But realized Iâd no choice as we had no servants in this house. He kindly got me inside and threw logs on the fire. He was about to leave when it became obvious I was to drunk and bruised to make it up the winding staircase by myself.
Kenny kindly suggested assisting me up to my bedroom. When I agreed he lifted me in his strong muscular arms carrying me upstairs with little effort and placing me gently onto the big four-poster. I asked him to stir up the open fire in my bedroom and throw some more logs on before he went. As he did this, the sparks illuminated his feminine looking black face I gasped because he really did looked like a black thirteen year old.
The young black man appeared scared and vulnerable so I tried to give him a motherly hug. But he mistook my maternal gesture as something much more intimate and before I could protest his muscular arms responded crushing me to his strong chest.