(Author's Note: Lucas continues to write his stories but he can't show all of them to his family. Read his first stories on Literotica, 11/05/2019,
https://www..com/s/memories-ch-01-4) and 11/25/2019,
https://www..com/s/memories-ch-02-6).
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I'm writing down my more interesting experiences during my life for my children, their children and now their children. I'm Lucas, by the way, and I'm well into my tenth decade of life. I never thought much about the things I saw and did when I was younger but my kids enjoyed hearing about them. Eventually, I was convinced to write them down. The stories accumulated until both my daughter and granddaughter each have a large volume of them.
When the writing habit finally took hold, I realized there were other stories that I couldn't write for my family. They were of a deeply personal level and somewhat profane. I had to write them down but I couldn't give copies to my daughter to include in the tome she was building for later generations.
What follows is one of those stories. One caveat, I tend to exaggerate on occasion. Truthfully, embellishment, exaggeration and outright fabrication are frequent visitors to my tales, especially if it enhances my opinion of myself or my proclivities.
When I was twenty, in 1946, the war was over and I had managed to avoid the draft. I graduated from high school at eighteen and worked in a factory making torpedoes for the war effort immediately after. That ended when the war ended and I needed another job. I was looking for something in a trade with an apprentice program and a decent career path. Meanwhile, I took a job with a market. Back then, there weren't large super markets or malls. Most business was small and local. Johan's was a small market selling local farm fresh vegetables and meat and other household items. Johan was a shrewd businessman and keenly aware of the competition from the approaching A