My name is David Hartley. I was born in the village of Pevensey, East Sussex in 1897. My father was a baker and my mother sold flowers in the local market to support my three sisters and me. My sisters worked in the bakery when they weren't at school, but I preferred to help my mother selling flowers. I was good at that, although my father disapproved: it wasn't man's work.
When war was declared in August 1914 one of the men in our village was sent to France as part of the British Expeditionary Force. My father followed the progress of the BEF in the newspapers. He offered to join up when there was a call for volunteers, but he was rejected because of his persistent cough.
In March 2016, as the war started to drag on, the Army Recruitment Officer arrived at Pevensey Railway Station. Almost the entire class of boys at my school signed up for the Royal Sussex Regiment. My father stared at me thoughtfully after I failed to sign up, and I could see the disappointment in his face. When William Harper enrolled in the Royal Sussex, his disappointment was even more evident. William was only 16, around 5'3" and weighed no more than 100lbs. I felt sick but next morning, I took myself to Pevensey Station and enlisted in the Royal Sussex, 13th Battalion. I was 18 years old but some of the new recruits were only 16 or 17 and pretended they were 18. Truth is, I was 'a delicate child' as my mother used to say: I was slim, blonde, 5'8", soft features with blue eyes, with a gentle disposition.
For my training, I was based in a camp outside Eastbourne. The camp consisted of around 60 tents, a place to eat called a mess tent, a place to shower, and latrines.
My uniform consisted of shorts and a vest made of cotton, while my jacket, trousers, and socks were made of a rough khaki-coloured wool. Footwear consisted of brown leather ankle length boots with studded soles. The rough wool fabric chaffed the inside of my thighs and arms as well as the skin around my neck and caused me endless irritation. My boots were tight and rubbed my toes causing blisters and bleeding. I was also given a steel helmet, haversack, and rifle.
Training consisted of physical fitness exercises, learning how to march and follow commands, and how to use the rifle. I was forever in trouble: I wasn't fit, I struggled with my equipment, and I couldn't shoot straight. But I tried my best and for some reason one of the other recruits, John Reynolds, befriended me, and stood up to the sergeant who was constantly on my back. John was 20 years old, 6'2", short black hair, dark brown eyes and a stare that would stop men in their tracks. You wouldn't want to mess with John. He was also incredibly handsome.
I was so happy that John wanted to be my friend, but we were an odd match. We appeared to have nothing in common except that we both loved playing cards. We were fanatical players. It's strange how opposites attract, even in the strangest of circumstances; however, we got on well, always ate together and took our shower at the same time. When I say shower, there was a canvass tent with an open drain, a hose and a bar of soap. When John and I entered the shower for the first time, we looked at each other and laughed awkwardly. It was clear that we would have to share the hose and wash together.
I slowly and hesitantly removed my uniform, while John confidently undressed in front of me. He was bronzed and muscular, hairy, and had a thick limp cock hanging between his legs, protruding from a nest of thick black pubic hair. I tried not to look, but I couldn't resist peeking. My body was very different to his: I was virtually hairless and pink, with a short fat stubby cock nestling between a set of equally small testes. John's eyes travelled over my naked body before settling on my cock. He gave me a reassuring smile and stepped into the shower area. I blushed but took a deep breath and stepped into the shower after him.
We each took a turn with the hose. It was soon apparent that it was almost impossible to wash ourselves with one hand and hold the hose with the other. It was John who suggested that we wash each other. I held the hose over myself while he lathered up the soap. It was much easier for him to spread it over the areas I couldn't reach - down my back, and along my spine. I tensed but tried to act normal. His hand felt good, and it was a much more efficient way of washing. It was also the first time I had been touched by another person, excluding my mother.
As I stood with my back to John his hand glided over my hips and the curve of my ass. I tried desperately not to get hard, but ever since I was a young boy my erections seemed to happen for no apparent reason, and I could feel my cock begin to swell. Before I had time to think, John motioned for me to turn, and I reluctantly faced him, naked, with a four-inch hard cock. I blushed scarlet as he soaped my chest and stomach, then knelt to wash my legs and thighs, his face level with my stubby erection. I stood there the whole time biting my lip, embarrassed, but he acted as if everything were normal.
And then it was my turn to wash John. I began by spreading soap across his broad back and shoulders, along his arms, down his back and spine, and over his hard muscular ass. I was inquisitive and excited. His body was so different to mine. Then he turned to face me. My eyes glanced down at the hard lump of muscle between his legs. I swallowed hard, trying not to look. But soon I was washing lower, and we both knew where I would end up. His cock gave an almighty twitch as I knelt, my face drawing level with his genitals. As I washed his muscular thighs and legs, his penis filled with blood. It stretched and hardened until it became an 8" column of rigid flesh.
Nothing was said between us. The veins in his cock throbbed, and his balls seemed to have a life of their own, moving independently, bulging with sperm I imagined. I picture being a girl under him, having his cock inside me, screaming in ecstasy as he fucked me and filled me with his hot cum. My cock was harder than ever. I had never felt this way before. I finished washing John, and finally I stood up and we both reached for our towels together. We looked at each other and something passed between us - a sense of understanding, even of pleasure, although we had only washed each other.
Our training continued apace over the next month. We left our old lives behind and became more disciplined, fit and military looking, and we learned how to fight with rifle and bayonet. John helped organise my kit, polish my boots, clean my rifle and kept the sergeant off my back. He also showed me a few self-defence moves, and I loved it when we wrestled together and he subdued me. Once, I got the better of him, and sat astride his chest triumphantly my knees locked around his firm body. He was so proud of me.
We continued to improve our fitness and shooting skills. After one particularly gruelling march during a thunderstorm, we got back to camp, covered in mud, cold and soaking wet. Inside our tent I stripped down to my shorts and vest, sat on my camp bed and shook uncontrollably with a towel around me. John took everything off and started drying himself. He watched me with concern.
"David, you've got to get out of those clothes and under your blanket."
"I'm too cold," I shivered.
"You need to do it."
I shook my head. "I'm tooo cold."
John stood up and reached out for me. "You'll get pneumonia if you don't." With that, he pulled off my wet vest and slipped my soggy shorts down my legs and over my feet, tossing them to one side. I was used to showering with John and feeling his hands on me, but this was different as he took me in his arms and held me. His body was much warmer than mine, and his scent was intoxicating: a mixture of sweat and masculinity, not that you can smell masculinity, can you? He laid me down on his bed with his arms around me, transferring his body heat to me.
I can't remember how much time passed before I realised that John's fingers were slowly trailing across my chest and playing with my nipples. I held my breath as his fingers slowly stroked down my stomach until they were almost touching my penis. Then my cock was in his hand. His fingers circled the circumcised head. I was harder than I had ever been in my whole life. He made a loose fist and wrapped it around the shaft and squeezed lightly. Instinctively I started pushing up with my hips, whimpering. He smiled, gripped my shaft, and began pumping my cock. My moans got louder, and my hips began undulating rapidly. There was no turning back now as he increased the speed of his hand.
"Ohhhhhhh .........." I moaned.
