1975 - Sex Stories

1975

Our house sat at the top end of their property. It was a semi-detached, built during the post war expansion to provide cheap homes for the masses. Since there were just the two of us, it provided Mum and I with ample space. There were two upstairs bedrooms, she had the front of the house, with a view out over the fields and I had the one at the back of the house with a view out across the trees and the river. It was 1975 and I was one year from becoming an adult, though if the truth be told, I did not feel the significance of my age. I was still a young, blue eyed boy in most respects. Our house was the last in a line of identical houses which stretched along the lane from the village to the ferry. In those days, the ferry was still in operation and for a small fee it would take people across the river. Alongside the ferry was the boat yard and between our house and the boatyard were two large properties, the old church and its decaying graveyard. The property adjacent to our house belonged to two old friends of my Mum, George and Rose. George was in his early sixties at that time and Rose was a few years younger I think. It’s all a long time ago now, but I have many memories of them as I used to work in George’s greenhouses during the summers. For half a pound an hour I’d pick tomatoes alongside George and a few other boys from the village. Even today the smell of a tomato invokes the lurid memories of sweating in the humid atmosphere of the greenhouses. Despite her ...

... relative youth and good looks, Mum had stayed single after I was born. Whenever I asked her about my father, she replied that he had been a merchant seaman and she didn’t know where he was. They’d had a brief affair one winter and then he’d left without telling her where to he was going. All she knew about him was his first name Tom and that he was from Norway. She doubted that he even knew he had a son in the United Kingdom. This story takes place at the end of that long hot summer. 1975 was a carefree time, though we didn’t know it then. The social turmoil that was to come with the 1980s was not even suspected, least of all by me. I had no eye on the future. My time was spent biking about the countryside, building model aeroplanes and working in the green houses to make some money. I was making about three pounds a day and to me, back then, that was more money than I had ever had. Fifteen pounds in one week made me feel like anything could be possible if only for the blight on my horizon which was the imminent return to college in a few weeks’ time. There was also the small fact that the tomato picking was almost done for the year, and George didn’t pay as much for odd jobs in the autumn. Several of the girls in the village had recently begun to pay me some attention, possibly due to my blonde good looks and possibly due to the fact that I had some money. One in particular was Sarah who lived further up the road from us. She seemed to have decided that I was her property and had ...