Suzette_Goes_To_War: by (c) Hamilton Joyce.('Suzette va 't'en guerre').Mf
MMf Ff
Some readers will recall how Suzette was taken from the Brothel ('112 rue de
Rivoli'), and spent happy months with her adoptive grandfather ('Little
Suzette') until their idyll was broken by the onset of war. The war is nearly
three years old, and the tide has turned for the allies, at El Alamein, Stalingrad,
and oddly enough Pearl Harbour. The axis powers are on the defensive in
Europe and Africa, and have made a strategic error in the Pacific. However,
occupied France is still a dangerous place, and especially so for a fourteen year
old blonde, with slender hips and firm breasts: soldiers are so ready to buy or
take for nothing the sexual favours they so desire. Teen girls become only too
easily part of the booty of war. This third episode takes Suzette away from the
brothel where she has taken refuge, and involves her in several precocious
sexual adventures.
...............................................................
She had totally exhausted her client by three in the morning, and only her cunt
was tired when she woke completely refreshed at ten. One of the brothel's
pretty little 'page-boys' had brought her morning chocolate and croissant and,
showered and enjoying her breakfast standing up, she was dressing when there
was a discrete knock on the huge, leather-padded door.
'Entrez!'
It was her favourite priest, Pere Beauchene, immaculate in his crisp black
vestments, his face scrubbed pink, and his hair a glossy silver.
'As lovely as ever, my sweeting!' And indeed she was, with her breasts and
modesty covered by the wispiest, finest grey silk lingerie. His eyes lingered
fleetingly on the little nipple shapes, and the bulge of her mound. Even after
the excesses of the night (the page boy had been so charming and so willing).
even after the best cock and smoothest arse the House had to offer he felt
stirring in his groin.
'Ten o'clock is early for you, Father. Were you let down last night?' She
laughed, and kissed him on his cheek. Her hand grasped his prick through his
black habits. 'I think you must have been! Pere Beauchene, aptly named.'
It was an old pun on his name, but he laughed dutifully. 'Not at all, my darling.
You have that effect you know! But there is a serious matter first.' He poured
himself a cup of her chocolate. 'May I?'
'You already have!'
'You know your respected employer is of the Resistance?'
'I guessed.'
'I am too. Brothel Madame and Confessor are both useful trades for Resistance
members! Well, what do you say?'
'I wish I could help too. My Grandfather is still in Africa, you know. He never
gave up like most of the army.'
'You can help my dear.'
How she could help was explained to her. The package she was to carry to the
coast was of the most valuable. 'My dear, it is the complete plans for the
Atlantic Wall the Bosch are building from the Pas de Calais right down to Les
Landes. Plans, and even photographs of the completed sections. Can you
imagine what that could mean to the allies? It could advance our liberation by
months, years even. The film has to be carried by hand. It cannot be
transmitted. Our leaders believe a young girl stands a better chance of getting
it through than one of our usual couriers. There was some concern at the
danger of a young girl travelling unaccompanied with all the soldiery
about...but then we thought of you, for whom there would be no great shock!'
Suzette giggled and childishly pulled her (very unchildlike) panties loose from
her crotch where they had ridden up. 'You are to take it through Rouen to the
coast. Here.' He lifted her doll, Angelique, which readers may remember from
earlier episodes. 'No, too big to carry. But your little Pepe here is just right.
One in here, here, here and here....' A tiny roll of film was slipped into each
arm and leg of her baby boy doll. 'There, perfect...I love your hair like that.'
'Pierrette plaited it for me.' The plaits were fine as burnished gold, falling to
her shoulders, with the prettiest blue satin ribbons. She pirouetted and her
pigtails flew, just as the hard little muscles in her butt moved seductively
under their flimsy covering. Pere Beauchene decided he would have her one
last time: have her kneeling to enjoy those buns.
'So very much the little girl.'
'And you love the little girls, Father...I'm fourteen. Almost too old for you.'
She was silent, and remembered for a moment her Granddad. Would he still
want her when he returned? She would be sixteen at least. No, she knew he
wouldn't. Never mind! Plenty of other fish in the ocean.
'I love little girls when they are as beautiful and as talented as you, my little
darling...' She was in his arms now, and could feel his cock pressing in against
her, his arms round her, hands fondling that shapely little butt. He looked in
the mirror and watched his hand slip down into the waist of her panties,
fingers showing clear through the silk as he caressed her. 'You must leave this
morning, but we have time for one last one before you go. Here....' He slipped
the robes over his head and stood naked except, ludicrously, for his polished
black shoes and woolly black socks. There was nothing ludicrous about the
huge red knob, and broad, hairy shaft that waved in front of him .Beauchene
indeed!
He turned her round so his prick rested against the small of her back. The strap
of her bra was a fine, grey line across her back, tanned a uniform brown this
long summer of 1941. He leaned forward and licked the back of her neck,
where the fine blonde hair grew, perversely, upwards against the flow of her
tresses. He unclasped the bra and she let it fall to the carpet. In the long cheval
mirror, gilt and ormolu like so much of the brothel decor, he could see her
small breasts, firm and round as champagne glasses. He fondled them, two-
handed, wondering if this might be the last time, as he feared. His colleagues
on The Executive had gambled the Germans would let such a pretty young girl
pass. Rape her, perhaps, but no worse. And if she were caught with the film,
there was a chance some senior Gestapo officer would save her for his
personal harem. Yes! It was worth the gamble. Though, if the Germans learned
the plans were leaked, their value would be greatly decreased.
The rosy-pink nipples were like little nuts under his palm. She leaned
backwards onto him.
She squirmed back against him, and he slipped a hand over each hip, down
inside her panties, sliding them down over her thighs. He focused his glance
on the familiar light fringe of blonde hair, thicker on her mound now than
when he had first had her a year or so before, but still attractively juvenile. It
gleamed in the morning sunlight, streaming in through open windows. She
turned round and kissed him. He lifted her and carried her to the bed.
'In my bottom, Father. Please. I'm sore from that villain last night....he just
would not stop! He's been posted to the Eastern Front, poor General von
Holst. He seems to have decided to completely empty his balls in anticipation
of being shot at by the Reds! My cunt really needs a rest! So in my arse. I
know you like that, really. Use the butter left over from my croissant. Anyway,
I love it in my bottom!'
She knelt and briefly he parted the cheeks of her bottom. Her secret rose was a
little, puckered, pink flower. He knelt and licked it. She giggled as his tongue
penetrated her. He had shaven thoroughly, but still she felt his chin rough
against her tender flesh, so white between her thighs. He was masturbating her
anus with his tongue, stroking and caressing her buttocks, there where the
triangle of white showed where she had hidden her modesty sun-bathing at the
Lido beside the Seine.
She was, of course, loose and without tension there. So he was sucking,
licking and tonguing for his own pleasure as much as for hers. He could feel
her fingers rubbing her clit just inches from his buried face. He reached for the
butter dish and spread a dollop of warm oil between her cheeks, helping it into
her anus with his index finger. Kneeling now behind her he wiped his hand
clean on his cock. He saw her watching his reflection in the mirror, her
laughing eyes shining as his cock glistened in the morning sunlight.
Then he was in her, pushing long and slow till his thighs touched her buttocks.
She wriggled her buns against him. 'Lovely. Now fuck me hard, Father. I love
it. Do me as hard as you do all your little boys!' He grabbed one blonde plait
in each fist, and used them to guide her as he shagged, like a jockey guiding a
thoroughbred.
Slightly angered at her reference to his well-known perversion, (though it was
a just jibe ...he had been fucking a pretty boy all night) he rammed it in very
hard indeed, his thighs slapping her bottom, his balls swinging at the base of
her cunt. In the street below, a postman looked up, recognising that particular
clapping sound. But she pressed back, maximising the thrust, her busy fingers
still rubbing, nipping, tweaking at her cuntlips and clit. She was moaning now,
panting, swearing. He let go her hair and reached both arms round her. His
hands on her tits again now, he was muttering too. 'Sweet Jesus! What an arse!
What a fuck! ' The postman decided he would call in at number 87 and spend
an hour or so with the concierge, whose husband was away in the pow camps.
He hurried off.
The priest felt his climax rising. There would be no way to stop it. Her hands
were tearing at her cunt, and he could hear her coming too, feel her coming as
her anus contracted on his prick. He was coming, pumping up into her; she
was screaming, and collapsed under him.
They lay silent for minutes. He finally noticed it was eleven. 'We must get up.
You have to catch the midday train!
She heard him piss and then run the taps. He came out, dying himself on her
towel. 'You know, Suzette, after the war has been won you'll be famous for
taking these films to the English. All the men in France will want you.'
She giggled. 'A fair number of them have already had me, Father. And some
women too.'
..............................................................................
Madame and the Priest accompanied her to the Gare St- Lazare, where the
grey-uniformed German officials took very little notice of a young schoolgirl
being seen off by her matronly, bourgeoise mother and the local priest. Father
Beauchene lifted her cheap and very light suitcase to the rack, and she waved
at the two of them as the train pulled out.. She had been told that it would be
very dangerous to take a train too close to the coast, as the quality of the guard
troops was believed to get better (from their point of view) the nearer to the
Channel you went.
There were two document inspections on the train, and one terrified young
man was hauled from her compartment but her special 'passport' with its black
swastika on the cheap grey paper, got her through them. She changed trains at
Rouen, catching the train for Caen. She was to leave the train at a small town,
a few miles inland, called Beuzeville. She was confident now. What was all
the fuss about?
She would have been less sure of herself if she had seen the two figures
lurking in the shadows a few metres away from the army control at the Rouen
ticket barrier. The older of the two was dressed in a long black leather coat,
despite the warmth of the summer's day. His lean, grey face was half-hidden
by a black homburg hat. He was slighter than his companion, a broad-
shouldered lad, in a creased and perfect black uniform. The lad carried his
peaked cap under his arm, and you could see he had enjoyed his stay in sunny
France, tanning his clear-complexioned face, lightening his cropped blonde
hair even further. He was the very epitome of Hitler youth, Aryan and all male.
The older man caught his eye and nodded towards the girl. She was tripping
happily along, carrying her case. Her buttocks almost twinkled under her short
grey-flannel skirt. You could guess the firmness of her breasts from the
suggestive shape of her dazzling white cotton blouse. Her blonde hair swung.
Her legs were tanned, long and lithe, like a young foal. Pretty little white court
shoes and white ankle socks completed the picture of happy innocence. The
older man licked his lips, and beckoned his aide to follow him. They walked
behind, watching her bottom move under its short skirt. She got on the train,
and they both swung onto the next carriage seconds before it left, with a blast
of steam.
The compartment was crowded, and a red-faced, portly gentleman helped her
with her case. There was little conversation in the compartment: people had
stopped talking in public, and especially to people they did not know. There
were ears everywhere, spying and noting. She looked out at the countryside,
wasting away with so many of the young men exiled in the camps and
factories of the conqueror. All those lovely young men, wasted, she thought.
'Papers!' The smart young officer looked cursorily at the various identification
and travel documents. He held Suzette's, studied them, and passed them to the
man behind. The whole compartment looked up, down, out of the window.
Anywhere except at the sinister figure, whose black coat and homburg hat
spoke 'Gestapo' to each of them.
Black homburg nodded. 'Kom!' The officer pulled her to her feet. She had to
push past him as she was escorted away, between the two of them.
'So, you are Suzette Ducroquis, and you are going to a school in Beuzeville? '
'Yes, sir.'
'Fourteen! You are young to travel alone in these troubled times.'
'There seem to be many officials to guard us, sir.'
'We are not here to guard you, mademoiselle, but to guard the state, our state.
Search her Hans.'
They had sent the guard, a Frenchman in his blue SNCF uniform, out of the
guards-van, and told him to go to the end of the carriage and prevent anyone
from coming. Black homburg had hung his leather coat on a hook screwed into
the green-painted wall.
Suzette tried her best to look shocked and outraged as the blonde god felt her
tits, lingering there, squeezing and grasping, and then lifted her skirts to run
his hands up the inside of her naked legs till his thumbs met her crotch. She
was wearing, on the instruction of Pere Beauchene, plain white cotton panties.
'You may well be subject to abuse from some of our liberators. You must try,
my dear, to stay in character as an innocent schoolgirl. No sexy lingerie, and
do your best not to show it if you're enjoying it!' Well, she was enjoying it.
The blonde boy was very handsome, smart, well-groomed, and wonderfully
muscular. You could see that, and she had felt the hardness of his body as she
had pushed past him. And now he had both hands in her crotch. Surely he
would notice how damp the gusset had become?
'No hidden weapons, sir!'
'Stupid boy! I can see that! Naked!'
He started to undo the buttons on her blouse.
'Not her! You, Hans. I want you naked! She stays clothed!'
Suzette watched as the boy removed first his black boots, and then the
strangely cut 'riding trousers' some of the Germans seemed to favour. He had
very good legs, she thought. Strong and muscular, and a fine fuzz of golden-
blonde hair. She managed to look shocked when he dropped his underpants to
show a magnificent weapon, straight, broad, red-capped, jutting from a bush of
red-blonde hair.
'I said naked, boy!'
His chest was nearly hairless, just the slightest golden fuzz around each tiny,
pink nipple. His shoulders, and the muscles of his chest, were for a young girl
to dream of.
'In the chair, girl!' It was one of those revolving office chairs, dirty and tatty
from an age of railway use.
'Now fuck her. I want to see you fuck the French bitch!' As Gestapo became
aroused his language became cruder, his tone harsher.
As he leaned over her to pull her panties down she thought that he was not
really much older than herself. Nineteen, twenty? And so fit and handsome.
This would make a change from the stressed out businessmen and neurotic
generals who were her usual fare. Not that she minded them either. After all a
cock was a cock.
Still acting the part of an innocent schoolgirl, she averted her face as he
entered her. He had spat in his hand and wet his cock so it glistened, but he
need not have done it. She knew she was wet and ready. It was clumsy for him,
half kneeling in front of the chair, but he got it in, and deep in her. He pulled
her towards him so she was closer to the edge of the chair. Now he could kneel
to shag her, with deep, powerful thrusts. She had to bite her lip to prevent her
pleasure giving her away. She would have liked to have told him he stretched
her as few men had before, among the hundreds who had entered her. She
would have liked to reach out and feel those strong shoulders, run her hands
through the cropped blonde hair.
She saw Gestapo unbuttoning his trousers. She nearly laughed out loud. He
was small! Tiny! Less than half the size of the officer fucking her. He rubbed
the little pink worm till it was erect, and knelt behind the two of them. She saw
his bony fingers sink deep into the flesh of the boy's hips as he held him. The
he pushed, and penetrated the lad's arse, even as he was fucking Suzette. The
boy groaned, but it was a noise of pleasure. He fucked harder and faster with a
prick in his anus. A bead of sweat appeared on his upper lip. He tore open her
blouse. A button was torn off. His right hand was inside handling her tits.
Behind him, Gestapo was fucking hard and freely. Despite his minute size, he
seemed to be giving the lad pleasure, she thought. And so was she. She felt
him coming, and could not disguise her own orgasm, panting, head rolling,
spasms gripping his cock as he pumped cum into her. It felt as if he had been
saving it for weeks.
She guessed Gestapo had not noticed her not-very-childlike orgasm, as he
seemed to have eyes and hands only for the handsome male kneeling in front
of him.
The two of them rested, his cock throbbing inside her. But still Gestapo
buggered his aide. Finally, with an oath, he came in the boy's arse, holding
still for a moment or two as he savoured the feel of spurting.
Gestapo wiped his cock on her cotton knickers, as did Blonde. While uniforms
were replaced, and smartened, she put her papers back in her little purse, and
tried to stop the cum running down the inside of her thighs, again with the
panties, disgusting, cum-covered and smeared with brown. Both men were
silent, and she stood demurely.
'Your papers are in order, Fraulein. You may return to your carriage.
In the carriage seven pairs of eyes studied her. The man with the waistcoat and
chain was wondering if she had been raped. An old peasant remembered his
days after the victory of 1918. German girls, no older than this, giving their
cunts, mouths, even their arses for a loaf of bread or ten cigarettes. Those were
the days! A big, moustached guy in the window seat opposite where she sat
down looked at her tits, and saw the torn button. His cock rose, and he covered
it with his hat. The middle-aged lady sniffed and looked away. Images were
passing through her mind. It was not fair. This young girl, who could not
appreciate it, had been fucked, doubtless, by that blonde German god. She
would willingly have given her own body to save the girl her ordeal. She could
feel her cunt warming up. She might have to go to the toilets to bring herself
off.
Suzette sat there, worrying she might make a wet mark in the back of her skirt,
as his cum still flowed down her cunt. She had thrown the panties out of a
window.
.......................................................
She was the only passenger to alight at Beuzeville . There was one person on
the platform, a tall, lean man, grey-haired. Sixty-ish, she thought. Spared the
defeat of the army and exile or internment by his age.
..................................................................
Even in such a rich agricultural region food was scarce, and the meal had been
frugal. But they had shared a litre of strong cider, and both felt quite mellow.
She had wiped the dishes as he washed. She stood beside him in the kitchen as
he dried his hands.
'There were two German soldiers on the train.....'
'And?'
'They took me out of the carriage and to the guards van'
'What did the bastards do?' There was a look in his eyes, part horror, but part
at least that prurience she had seen so often in the eyes of her male clients.
'One touched me here.' She took his hand and pressed it to her breast. He
could feel the hard nipple under his palm. 'The other one touched me here.'
She held his hand so it rested on her mound.'
He did not remove his hand from her bosom, and she still held the hand resting
on her grey flannel skirt.
'In fact, it was more than that. This one tore my blouse and put his hand here.'
She held his hand an instant and slipped it inside her blouse. Now he could
feel the warmth of her bosom. 'And the other one put his hand up here.' His
hand touched her naked cunt, and he jumped as if scalded, but she held it
there.'
'It must have been terrible for you, my dear.'
'No. I liked it. They were both nice young men, and I liked it.' He was stroking
her breast now, stroking and gently squeezing. His other hand held her cunt,
her legs so-slightly open so his palm fitted over all of it. He could feel the
warm plumpness of her lips, and the fine hair over her mound. 'It made me
feel nice, like I do in bed at night.' He moved his hand, and a probing index
finger found her wet and aroused, her clit as hard as the little nipple under his
other hand. 'I wished I could have them with me at night, at least for a bit.'
He looked down at her blonde hair. She was leaning against him now. So
lovely, and so innocent. So naive to tell him about her childish sexuality.
'I think they were going to make me feel them, because they were undoing
their belts. But then their officer came in and made them go back to their work
checking papers.'
'Did the officer.....?'
'He just told me to go back to the carriage. He looked angry. 'Don't stop.
That's nice.' He was gently rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger,
and softly pulling and releasing her clit. How often he had looked at the pretty
little girls in his charge, and wished....he hardly dared admit to himself what
he wished to do. It had been worse since his Juliette had died in the first week
of the invasion, machine-gunned by the road at Lille. Some of his charges
were by no means as innocent as they looked, of that he was sure!
You really wanted them in your bed, my sweetie?' She nodded. 'Shall I sleep
in your bed tonight? Would you like that?'
'Oh! Would you? That would be lovely.' Her arms were around his neck, and
she was kissing him.
In bed she lay with her back to him, his erect penis nestling between the
cheeks of her bottom. He had one arm under her, resting on the plump of her
mound : she was so light it was scarcely uncomfortable. His other arm was
over her shoulders, his palm cupping a breast. He nuzzled her neck, licking
and kissing her.
'That's nice. I used to lay like this with my Granddad.'
'Used to?'
'He's in Africa with the army. I miss him terribly.'
He felt better about fondling this under-age lovely now. She was not as
innocent as she seemed! He could not believe her soldier grandfather had lain
like this with her without.... He wondered what they did together. His cock
twitched as he speculated.
She turned over and her arms were round his neck, her breasts pressing,
pointy, into his chest. 'He's hairier than you.' She giggled and tweaked a
handful of his chest hairs. 'I like that. hairy I mean. Her lips were on his again,
her tongue inside his mouth. 'Granddad taught me to kiss like that.'
'Did he do this?' Her nipple was in his mouth. He caressed one breast while he
sucked and nibbled at the other, Pulling the nipple between his lips and
releasing it to spring back. Now he pressed his cheek against her belly, holding
her hips. 'My wife used to like this!' Greatly daring he licked the length of her
slit. Her cuntlips were plump. She was juicy. Her clit was erect. She raised her
hips to meet his mouth.
He lifted his mouth to look at her lovely blonde fringe, her flat belly, her
breasts, nipples pink but puffy and swollen.
'That's nice! Don't stop.'
Back now to her cunt. He had been momentarily surprised by the strength of
her woman smell and taste. He did not know she had been fucked twice that
day, priest and soldier, and they had gone straight to his bed, unwashed. He
loved it!. He had no idea a young girl, no older than most of the pupils in his
school, could be so passionate in her loving. She was rubbing her cunt against
his face as he sucked and nibbled at her clitoris. There was no doubt she was
going to come. Did her Granddad indulge himself, he wondered, or had she
learned this off some little girl friend?
Suzette earlier had tried to get her mouth to his cock, but he was too tall, and
she too short. Now she was too far gone into her own world of pleasure to
want to suck him. She was, however, grasping his erect cock in one tiny, soft
hand. Her other hand was entangled in his grey hair, holding his head tight
between her legs. She was coming. She closed her thighs on his face,
smothering him in her silky flesh. He sucked the more. She managed to stop
herself shouting any un-girlish obscenities, but her orgasm was marked by a
series of panting shrieks of joy.
Immediately he found his face released, and her mouth on his cock. His
Juliette had never, though he had asked her. It was a sin, and would have to
have been confessed to the priest! So his only experience had been once, when
doing his national service, he and a couple of mates had been sucked off by a
whore in Le Havre. It was warm, wet, and delightful. She seemed able to get
the whole length in her mouth, and he could feel his knob touch her throat. Her
tongue flicked along the vein at the front, there where it was most sensitive.
He would not be able to hold out. She tickled his balls, and he tried to pull out
as he came. No! She wanted it all. She held him to her and sucked as he
spurted, gobbling and swallowing. He was almost fucking her mouth,
withdrawing, and then pushing in again with every hot spurt.
She lay with his cock, half-limp now, between her lips. 'Where did you learn
that?'
'You won't tell anyone? My Granddad loves that..'
'My little darling.' He kissed her and could taste his spunk on her lips.
In the middle of the night he woke and was suddenly reminded of the
evening's pleasures, as he saw her stretched beside him in the moonlight. She
was lying on her back in the moonlight, snoring quietly. Her breasts rose and
fell with her breathing. One hand rested beneath her neck, and the other was
placed between her open thighs, a finger slipped between the lips, not
obscuring the light fuzz of her mound. She was heart-stoppingly lovely. He
leaned over her and lightly kissed a nipple. She murmured something
inaudible in her sleep, and her hand moved to rest on her thigh. He found
himself thinking of all those un-touched girls in his care. Boys too? Possibly,
he thought: some of them were so pretty too, especially the blondes.
His cock was almost painfully hard. He held it, and fingered his balls. It was
too much. He just had to have her. He gently positioned himself between her
thighs, propping his weight on his elbows. His hard cock pressed into her
crotch, and suddenly found the way in. Warm wetness engulfed it. He
remembered how loose and sloppy his dear wife had been. This cunt was tight
and vigorous, gripping him as he eased his cock in till his belly touched hers.
She murmured something in her sleep. He hardly dared move for fear of
waking her. Rested on his elbows he looked at her face. Her eyes were closed,
and she was smiling. He eased his cock out till only the knob was held by her.
Then as he allowed it to slip in again, her hips rose to meet his. She was still
asleep. He felt her hand on his arse. Her other arm slid over his shoulder. Now
she was moving with him, still asleep, as he slowly fucked her.
Suzette had awoken the moment his cock entered her. But if he wanted her
innocent and asleep, she would give him that. But she could not stop her
accomplished body reacting to him. She held him to her, and wound her legs
around his waist, pulling him closer. She was muttering and murmuring as
their passion increased, and with it the force of his thrusts, and the weight of
each collision onto her clit.
He did not need his elbows now: their two bodies were moving as one. She
still slept, but her head was rolling and she was panting and murmuring
through clenched teeth. He had one hand under her neck. with the other he
reached down between them to feel one of her breasts. As he touched it he
knew she was coming. Eyes still closed, her head rolled from side to side. Her
legs and arms gripped him. Her belly crashed into his. He pumped into her,
feeling a great release as each thrust pumped his cum into her. Her cunt
gripped him, spasming as he came.
He was still in her when they rolled over to lay side-by-side.
In the morning he brought her a milky coffee: the last of his hoarded, proper,
pre-war coffee. She woke as he entered the door. She stretched like a cat, and
again he found himself lusting after her long, fine legs, slender hips, and those
lovely firm little breasts, that moved as she stretched and yawned. The yawn
was replaced by a sunny smile. She took the coffee from him, and cradled it in
two hands, sipping it.
'I had a lovely dream. I dreamed you put this in me. I mean right in me...' She
held the cup in one hand, and gripped his half-hard cock. Her tiny, soft hand
was hot from the coffee cup, and he was instantly erect.
'And was it nice, in your dream?' He was sitting beside her now, an arm round
her shoulder, and caressing her breast with his free hand. The pink nipple rose
hard under his palm.
'It was lovely. I came in my sleep...'
'Shall we do it for real?' He took the nearly empty cup from her hand and put
it on the bedside table. 'Would you like me to put it in you?'
'It's so big. But it was nice in the dream. Can you try? Do I lie like this?' She
was on her back, legs apart. He could see her little pearl clit peeping out from
the pink-blonde lips.
This time he was longer fucking her. He made her come once in the classic
position, and then had her squat on top of him, riding him as he reached up to
play with her tits, sometimes pulling her down on him to kiss her, her tits
pressing into his chest. He fucked her long and slow, speeding up as he saw
her orgasm close, and then returning to the long, slow sweeps. She came riding
him. Now, kneeling in front of him, he parted her cheeks. Her cunt was open
for him as he shoved in. His cock felt as if it was made of steel, hard as steel,
flying with steel wings, he thought to himself. She was coming again, without
touching herself, as his own dear wife always had needed to when he fucked
her from behind.
Still he hadn't come.
'That was lovely. My Granddad never did me like that. But he used to put it in
here sometimes.' She reached behind her and slipped a finger into her anus. He
watched as it slipped in as far as the first knuckle. 'He liked that. Though it's
nicer for me where you are now.'
'Can I try Granddad's way?' He did not wait for an answer, but pulled her
hand away from her anus, and placed his knob, shining from her juices. up
against the puckered secret rose. She wriggled her arse, and giggled.
'Push it in, then.'
It was easier than he could have guessed. He had never done this before. It was
too much. No sooner was he in her than he was coming. Deep in her, grasping
her hips, his thighs touching her pretty arse, he pumped his cum into her.
.....................................................
He watched her cycle down the dusty white road. She turned and waved, her
bicycle wobbling as she did so. She laughed, recovered her balance, and he
watched her disappear from his life for ever. She had changed it though. As he
watched her fine legs working at the pedals, her hard little buttocks split by the
saddle, he thought, no more celibacy for me. All those lovely schoolgirls.
Simone Pelletiere first, I think. Nice long, smooth legs, tiny hips, pretty little
tits, glossy black hair, and the loveliest smile. You can tell from the look in her
eyes she'd love to be fucked by the Headmaster. He felt his cock rising at the
thought. Ah well! Patience! The children would be back to school in ten days.
She was to use the back-roads, avoiding the Route Nationale, which was full
of German army traffic. It was longer, but safer, and much nicer. Apart from a
few peasant women in black she saw nobody. She had stopped at mid-day and
sat in the shade eating bread and cheese, and drinking a half bottle of cider.
The first road block was a mile or two from the coast, just outside Honfleur,
her destination.
The soldier was a real slob. She contrasted his scruffy, dusty grey uniform,
open at the neck, with the smart young lad who had fucked her on the train.
No, no-one would want to fuck this soldier's fat arse. He got up from the
canvas chair.
'Papers?'
The barrier across the road was as sloppy as the troops guarding it. A telegraph
pole had been laid across two rusting oil drums. Only half the road was
blocked. The canvas chair served to close the other half. A heap of shell cases,
and a half-full box of ammunition showed the bored soldiery had been idly
shooting the top off a nearby tree, one bullet at a time, to pass the day away.
''Papers?'
She reached into her purse and took out her identity card and the all-important
'passport' allowing her to go to the Nunnery in Honfleur. It was a fake, but she
was told, a good one.
'Nun, huh? That's a waste! Search you, mademoiselle.' She could smell the
alcohol on his breath as he felt her tits, her belly, her bottom, and then was
running his two hands up her bare legs, the inside of her thighs, when there
was a shout from a small hut beside the road. It was in German, but she got the
gist of it. She had learned a deal of German between the sheets at rue de
Rivoli.
'Hey Hans! What you caught there?' His hands were now on her crotch. She
was wearing her best grey silk panties (her others having been torn, spunk-
stained, and generally ruined.) He was gripping her there, her whole cunt in his
grasp.
Three soldiers, each scruffier than the last, emerged from the hut.
'Bit of luck eh?' Hans had let go of her cunt, and was gripping one breast now.
'Please, sir. I'm only fourteen....'
'Fourteen, eh? You French tarts know what it's at at twelve. I know!'
He had one arm twisted behind her back, now, the other round her and
clutching her tits. Her bottom was pulled onto his belly. She could feel his
cock, hard against her.
'Rest and recreation, lads?
They laughed, their comments gross even by the standards of a brothel, as they
frog-marched her just a few yards, through some trees into a clearing. There
was a tent here, their barracks, a table, a few armchairs suffering a bit from
being outside in the weather, and obviously plundered. And a wind-up
gramophone.
She was released in the middle of the glade. Three soldiers sat sprawled in
chairs. The fourth, who seemed to be a leader of the gang, though the
scruffiest, and with the same uniform, wound the machine up and started a
record. 'Dance! Dance, little lady, for us.'
Reluctantly, slowly, she started to gyrate to the music.
'Strip! Strip like a French tart. Your blouse. Off with it.'
She danced, faster now, but not stripping. One got up. 'He said strip. The
blouse!' He grabbed her and tore at the front. There was already a tear from
the episode on the train, and it tore worse.
'No, I will. I promise.' She undid the buttons, and quite excitingly, like a tart
in fact, danced as she took the blouse off and threw it to the dusty grass. The
men were silent as they looked at her tits, scarcely hidden by the fine grey lace.
Two of them had their cocks out, erect, stroking them. She could not help
looking. Both were well-endowed. (She knew about these things). They may
be slobs, but they had good cocks. One cut, the other with his foreskin pulled
back to show a great, red helmet. That would open you up, she thought.
'Skirt! Skirt! Skirt!' They were calling out now, like the audience at some low
dive. She unbuttoned the skirt and let it fall. Her long legs rose to the tight
grey lace around her crotch and bottom. All the men were masturbating now.
All had good cocks. She pirouetted, showing her lovely young body. She was
feeling some excitement, tingling in her crotch, but knew she must not betray
that. It would be suspicious, out of character with a young girl going to the
safety of a nunnery. She tried to think of sad things. Her Granddad in exile.
No! She thought of her little dog, Bob, left alone at the Chateau that frantic
first day of the invasion. What had become of him? That worked. A tear ran
down her face, streaking the dust her dancing had thrown up.
The teen's tears only served to increase the lust of the four men. 'Take 'em off.
All! All! All!'
She undid the catch on the brassiere and her tits stood proud, naked, needing
no support. One of the men whistled. All stroked their pricks, jutting from grey
uniform flies.. Now her panties, showing them her pretty little blonde mound,
pink cuntlips, and above all, that cute little butt. She knew she was good.
She was still dancing, but the record was running down.
There was no attempt to re-wind it. The biggest (fattest and biggest cocked) of
the men rose, his cock waving in front of him. 'Hans found you, and we all
know what Hansie likes!'
He roughly forced her to her knees in front of Hans' chair. Her head was
forced into his lap.
For a moment the smell of sweat and urine was overpowering. But it passed.
and he had a lovely hard, broad, long cock. Her head was seized by two hands,
from behind, and forced onto the cock. In character, she kept her mouth
closed. There was a resounding slap across her buttocks. A rough laugh, and
then another slap. 'Hansie found you. Give him his reward. Suck him, French
bitch!'
Another laugh, another slap, and her head again forced down. This time she
allowed the knob to slip into her practised mouth. Hans reached under her and
took one of her breasts in each hand.
'Better than your Le Havre whores, eh, Hansie. And twenty years younger.
Forty even. Feel those lovely firm little tits.' Hands were fondling her buttocks
too, parting them, and playing over her anus, cunt and clit. She couldn't
disguise she was getting aroused. She sucked harder and expertly teased it with
her tongue.'
'Jesus! The tart knows what she's doing. These French girls are born knowing
it!'
Hands parted her cheeks, and a cock was forced into her cunt. She was
enjoying this. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other two, still
sitting legs outstretched, stroking their cocks. They would be next.
'Fuck! I'm coming! She felt him rising to meet her mouth, and then the first
spurt of cum. She swallowed.
'Fuck! Me too. What an arse!' The frantic thrusts told her he had cum too.
Hans pulled his cock from her mouth. The other was still in her, throbbing.
'Us now!' One of the others had got up from his chair, but he stopped in mid-
stride.
They all five looked towards the entrance to the clearing.
A leather booted officer, in grey not black, but very smart, was standing there.
It was clear he was not amused!
'Put them away pigs! There's a war on! You've been put to guard the road for
a reason, pigs! Well! You'll not enjoy the next few weeks, I promise you.'
All four were hurriedly stuffing cocks into trousers, buttoning up, trying to
straighten dishevelled hair, Getting awkwardly to attention.
He walked along their hurriedly-formed line. 'Bloody disgusting! Pigs! This is
not Russia. Though it probably will be for you! Well, I'll deal with you later.
To your duties.'
'Hello,' she thought. 'Now he fucks me. These German officers in their full kit
do something for a girl!'
She was wrong. He picked her clothes up gingerly and handed them to her.
'Dress, please, mademoiselle, and accept my apologies for what has happened
to you, but I assure you they will be punished.'
As she dressed he comforted her. 'I see from your papers you are going to the
nuns at Honfleur. Allow me to drive you.'
......................................................
The open staff car drew up in front of the greystone gothic building, her
bicycle incongruously dumped across the rear seats. And the suitcase....with its
all-important dolly inside. Suzette waited in the front seat. The officer rang the
bell and talked briefly to a grey-haired dumpy woman, and a tall, willowy girl.
He clicked his heels and returned to the car, ushering Suzette, clutching her
case, to the door. The bicycle was left propped against the kerb.
I am Mother Superior, and this is Sister Angelina who will look after you for
your brief stay with us, my dear.
'Suzette, the officer told us, and he apologised. They're not all evil you know.
Was it terrible?'
Suzette leaned against the shoulder that was offered her. 'They made me
dance....undress and dance for them while they shouted.' She was silent for
seconds. 'Then I had to kneel down and they felt me all over. Groping and
squeezing. I had to take his....his thing in my mouth. And then one of them
stuck his....thing up inside me. The other two had taken their things out. Then
he squirted in my mouth, and then I'm sure the other one squirted inside me.
The other two would have done me too if the officer had not come.'
'My poor girl, how horrible. First a hot bath to wash all that filth away for
good. Help me with this.'
The tin bath hung on the wall in the corridor outside the nun's chambers. They
filled it with buckets of cold water and kettles of boiling water from the
kitchen range nearby.
'Now, out of those clothes, and I'll take them to our laundry. There's just time
to freshen them up before you have to go.' Sister Angelina watched as the girl
stripped. Like most of the nuns, she had entered the nunnery as the best way of
avoiding men, and enjoying women. This girl was so sweet, lovely and
innocent. As she took off her brassiere and showed her lovely tits, Angelina
felt that familiar stirring in her clit. When she dropped her skirt to the floor
and lowered her panties, the stirring became a flame. As the girl bent over to
remove her shoes and socks, showing her pretty cuntlips, pouched and
pouting, the flame became a raging fire in her cunt. She was wet, and hot!
'Now into that bath. I'll be back in a few minutes. I'll bring some soap, but
you just soak until I come.'
Suzette had nearly dozed off when the nun returned holding a towel and a bar
of yellow, coarse-looking soap. She was surprised to see her removing her
black habits. Her underwear was stylish, not the sort she would have expected
a nun to wear. The white lace panties would not have been out of place on one
of the girls at rue de Rivoli, she thought. She did not wear a bra. Suzette gazed
in awe at her tits. They were pointed. She had never seen tits like them (and
she had seen a lot of naked girls). They were conical, and long-nippled,
seeming to defy gravity as they pointed out from her chest. Almost like two
cocks, she thought.
Angelina saw she was staring at her tits, and blushed as she lowered her
panties. 'I hate them I wish I had nicer breasts.'
'I think they are lovely. I think they are the nicest I have ever seen. So white,
and so firm, and so shapely!'
'You're just being nice. I'm going to bath after you. Now let me soap you.
Kneel up.'
The cunt was covered in black hair, completely hiding it as it hovered inches
from her face. Suzette was fascinated. The village girls had all been young
enough to have only a light fuzz, while the girls at the brothel used to cut and
trim theirs. Some shaved it off completely. She wondered what it would be
like to lick and suck through a forest like that.
The soap smelled of coal-tar, but Angelina's fingers working it first into her
back and shoulders, and then round and round her breasts, took all the tension
out of her. 'You have lovely, full, round breasts, Suzette. And look how the
little buds stand when I soap them!' She laughed. 'Now underneath. wash it all
away.' Her fingers rubbed between her buttocks, soaping her anus, and then
her cunt, and then lingered on her clit.
'That's lovely! Don't stop. Ooooh!'
'Plenty of time later. I promise! Stand up and I'll do your thighs.'
Now down again and wash the soap off. My turn now, while you dry.'
Towelling herself, she watched as the nun soaped herself. 'Can you do my
back, please, Suzette?'
Suzette soaped her back, of course, while she knelt in the bath. But those firm,
almost conical breasts were a far greater attraction to the young girl. She
would remember the feel of them as her hands slipped over them, the hardness
of the long, long brown nipples. She would remember them all her days, above
hundreds of other bosoms she had played with.
And those hips, slim, but seeming not so because of her tiny waist. And that
bottom, small and rounded, but seeming to jut out provocatively because of the
flatness of her belly. Her skin was so white that it seemed almost translucent.
As her hands wandered over the nun's buttocks and belly she longed to kiss, to
suck those breasts. But the soap would have tasted vile! She had the girl stand
up now, and ran her hands up and down slender legs, lingering on her thighs.
She wriggled as she stood there. Suzettes hands slipped up into her crotch, one
from the back, one from the front. She soaped the tight-closed anus and her
fingers ran up and down the slit, dwelling for seconds on the clit, teasing and
tweaking it, pressing it and rubbing it.
'That's lovely! Ooooh! Don't stop!'
'Plenty of time later. I promise.' She giggled and Angelina laughed outright,
confident now she would enjoy this lovely body. Lay down and wash the soap
off.'
She helped Angelina towel herself dry, patting her tits, bottom and especially
'under there'. They held hands and almost ran to the large brass bedstead with
its crisp white sheets.
Angelina pulled Suzette on top of her and they kissed, long and passionate as
only women really can .Suzette held her head in both hands, her fingers
slipping in the glossy black hair. she could feel Angelina's oddly rough fingers
caressing her butt, and fondling her hips. Their breasts were crushed together.
'I want your tits!' She slipped from the nun's grasp a moment, and her mouth
was on one pointy breast, licking and kissing. She took a long, hard nipple
between her lips and nibbled at it while she stroked and squeezed the other
breast. 'They're lovely! So exciting. I've never....'
'You really do like them. You're not just saying. That's lovely. Now I want
yours.'
Suzette was rolled over by the larger, stronger woman, who leaned over her
and kissed each breast passionately before taking the left one in her mouth,
nibbling and sucking, caressing the other with her free hand. 'I wish mine were
round like yours!'
Suzette thought to herself, how popular Angelina would be with the gentlemen
visiting rue de Rivoli. They would love those strange, sexy tits!
But Angelina's mouth was wandering south now, licking round the little
puckered belly-button, down now trailing across her flat belly, down beyond
the suntan to the fringe of tight blonde curls, and down into the paradise of her
slit. She licked the length of the slit, lips wide open and inviting, before
settling back to the clit, pulling at it with her lips.
Suzette lay back and enjoyed for a minute or two, but then wanted to taste her
companion. She turned round on the bed so her face was close to the nun's mat
of hair. Angelina's mouth was back on her clit now, her hands clutching at
buttocks, pulling the cunt on to her tongue.
Suzette took a twist of black hair between each finger and thumb and pulled
cunt lips apart. The red gash appeared, shockingly red against the black of the
hair and the dazzling white of her thighs. The pearl of her clit glistened. It was
very lovely, Suzette thought. Men were exciting in the arrogance of their erect
cocks, but women were far prettier. She lowered her mouth to the waiting clit,
and heard Angelina sigh as her lips closed on it.
She could taste the strong soap, but within moments that had been masked by
the delicious taste of woman. She licked the length of the slit before settling,
like her partner, onto the hard little nub. Side-by-side, they wriggled till their
bodies touched along the whole length. Like Angelina, Suzette caressed and
kneaded the flesh of oh-so-desirable buttocks. She was coming! She had to
concentrate on still giving pleasure with her lips and tongue as the orgasm
mounted in her cunt. Angelina went at her furiously, sensing the climax, and
then, as she came herself, she knew from the energy of her partner's
movement that she was coming too.
Angelina moved so they could whisper, head to head.
Suzette licked round her partner's earlobe with a pointed tongue. She shivered
with delight: her men in the brothel had liked that too. 'You know what I
would really like?' she whispered in the ear.
'Tell me. You're lovely!' Angelina was caressing her tits, squeezing flesh,
tweaking nipples.
'I'd like to ride on you, so my clit is on your nipple. I think I could come off
that way.'
Angelina giggled. 'My tits again! But of course.'
Suzette held her cunt open and lowered herself onto the fleshy point, sticking
up like some strange conical-shaped cock she thought. So sexy. The hard, erect
brown nipple touched her clit and she felt an electric thrill through her body, as
much psychological as physical. But this was physical as she rubbed her cunt
up and down against this chosen breast. Angelina was giggling now, holding
Suzette by the hips, watching her belly, tits, and pretty face framed by the long
blonde plaits. Keeping one hand on Suzette's hip to steady her, she reached
under to place her hand in the crease of the blonde's arse. It was wet and sticky
from their love-making. Her thumb found the puckered anus, and slipped in .
Now with each wriggle and thrust of Suzettes cunt, the thumb titillated her
anus. Suzette felt herself coming again, and with the last throes of her orgasm
collapsed on the bed.
'Me now!' Angelina was astride, lowering her open cunt onto Suzette's face.
This time the girl was raping that innocent, childlike face, her cunt raking
backwards and forwards, sliding over chin, lips, nose, forehead, and then back
again. Over and over again she slid up and down, nearly smothering Suzette in
flesh and hot juices .Suzette reached up and grasped those tits, one in each
hand. 'Yes!' the nun yelled, and was coming again. One hand on each plaited
hair controlled the head as she bucked and plunged. The hands on her tits were
almost painful, but they drove her on to her orgasm.
They lay on the bed. 'You had better sleep now, my little angel. I shall wake
you at eleven for the next stage in your journey.'
.............................................
She had dressed quickly, and eaten a quick meal of fruit and bread. Her blouse
and skirt had been pressed and looked smart. But there were no bra or panties.
'The silly laundry girl forgot to take them to the kitchen to dry. I can give you
some of mine.'
'Don't bother. I'll buy some in London. I know how difficult it is to find nice
things here now. I'll manage.'
..............................................
It was a short, fat, jolly priest who showed her the way to the beach. They sat
on the pebbles watching the sea and stars. He amused her by telling her some
of the scandals of the village. 'Not long now. Half an hour.'
There was the crunch of boots on the pebbles. Then, outlined against the sea,
lit by starlight, the shape of four men, one with a dog straining at the leash.
'Bougre! Les Bosches!'
As the patrol approached, Suzette buried the doll in the shingle, and then
pulled the priest on top of her as she lay on her back. 'Kiss me, father. Kiss!
It's our only chance.'
For the first time in his life Father Norbert felt tender lips on his own, eager
tongue forcing into his mouth. He gave way and his lips and tongue kissed
back.
She felt between them, slipping her hand up under his robes. His prick was
small, but it was hard. She grasped it, and rubbed it on her cunt. Then it just
slipped into her. For the first time, Father Norbert felt the hot, wet embrace of
an eager young cunt. 'Fuck me. Father. Fuck me hard. You must or we are
undone, and our cause is lost. Fuck me!'
And he was. Her hands lifted his robes so she could clasp his buttocks, then
her legs wound, long and naked around him. He was fucking her now, their
mouths joined in a kiss.
The dog sniffed at the priest's arse. His handler pulled him off. 'It's only two
lovers, Sergeant! Hey, you won't believe this. The village priest is fucking a
little girl! Now I've seen everything! You want me to separate them, Sarge?'
'No, leave them be. There's little enough fun for the French around here. Let
them have their fuck!' The patrol crunched on, along the beach.
The priest had never known pleasure like it. He masturbated, of course, but
that was shallow compared with this aching, burning, all-consuming jolt of
pleasure, repeated with each spurt of his loins into the girl.
'That was a great sin, Suzette. I am so sorry!'
'Father, I can't believe something so nice was a sin. It was lovely.'
'You will have to confess it, my dear.'
'I don't believe God would have made it so lovely if he didn't want us to do
it.'
The Priest was silent. He was thinking, from experience for the first time. This
was not a matter of theology. It was how to reconcile the delight he felt in this
girl's body, the pleasure in his own, with the harsh teachings of his church.
It was lovely. I've done it hundreds of times, and its always lovely. I'm sure
God wants us to.'
'Out of the mouths of babes....'
'And here's something else I like.' They were lying side-by-side on the pebble
beach. Her blouse had been repaired by the nuns, so she popped three buttons,
and placed his hand on her breast (naked...her underwear abandoned at the
Nunnery). He held her, but did not caress. 'And here's something else.' She
turned up his robes, and her mouth was on his prick. He lay back, 'like a Pasha
in his hareem' he thought. She seemed to have a skill, he thought. The young
girls nowadays knew so much. No wonder they took so little notice of priests.
they knew priests knew nothing of these thins. She was alternately swallowing
his cock till her mouth touched his pubic hair, then as she released it her
tongue licked and tickled the vein at the front. He was in ecstasy. He recalled
Monsieur Courtrois: he had refused that Catholic his absolution because the
good man could not guarantee he would not let his wife suck him off. And he
was certain she would never allow him to refuse to suck her. What would it be
like to suck little Suzette's he wondered. He tried to reach with his hand, but
could not as she lay. So he returned his palm to her lovely breast. Why was the
feel of this flesh so different? He did not know, and yet it was different. It was
as if the electricity in his palm, caressing her breasts and nipples, was
communicated to his cock, in her warm and welcoming mouth. He felt himself
coming, and tried to pull out. She pulled him even closer, and insisted on
having him spurt in her mouth. She tickled his balls, and a naughty little finger
entered his arse. He spurted, and spurted and spurted.
He was sure now. She had loved it. He had loved it. That was the wrong word.
The pleasure had rippled again through his virgin body. Women needed it,
men needed it. It was God-given. He thought of the married women who
confessed their little adulteries to him. Confessed their cock-sucking, cunt-
sucking, buggeries ; they never mentioned the pleasure there was in the act!
Well, from now on he was going to have them, these lustful women. He was
going to fuck them. And their daughters too. This pretty little girl was no older
than the teenagers he taught in confirmation classes, and she knew how to give
and take pleasure. Well, he'd have some of them. Starting with Yvonne
Fouget, with her lovely blue eyes and blonde hair. He imagined what her
breasts would look like naked, and his cock rose again as he fondled Suzette's
breast. Then Sylvie Fougaret, the miller's daughter, so slender and so delicate.
Yes, he'd wasted years, but now he would make them up!
'Shall we again?'
'What's that?' There had been two flashes of light out to sea.
Hands off his cock, her breast, and fumbling for his torch. Three answering
flashes.
'That's your English friends. Come back sometime, Suzette. You have taught
me something very important, and I would like to thank you!'
She giggled as they walked down to the water's edge. His hand rested on her
naked bottom, feeling the muscles move as they walked. The sea was near
calm, tiny waves just lapping over. The moon would not be up for an hour, but
they could see each other in the light of the Milky Way and the stars, the
Plough hanging low over their heads. 'It's a pity to leave you like that!' She
gripped his hard cock through the robes. 'But I expect you'll find someone to
help you with it. Don't try Angelina, though. She only does it with girls.'
......................................................
The captain of the submarine was nervous, and they dived as soon as the two
sailors, Suzette, her doll and the rubber dinghy had been loaded aboard.
'This is a dangerous place unless you're trained. It is only eight hours to
Portsmouth, and you would be best to spend them here. He pulled the curtain
back on a sleeping space, no bigger than a single bed, and a narrow one at that.
The heads...that's toilets...are just over there.
She drew the curtain, and took off her blouse. The air was musty, smelled of
oil, and it was hot. She thought of all the water above them and shuddered.
There was a slight noise outside, and she peeped through a gap in the curtain.
A sailor, short but muscular, like all the submariners she had seen so far, was
stripping off his white shirt and shorts. She peeped. as he , with his back to her
, stepped out of his undershorts. Good arse , she thought. And when he turned
round, she saw he had a good cock, too, given that it was in repose as it were.
He clambered into the bunk under her. She wondered if.... Well, why not. It
would be a way of saying thankyou to the crew. She pulled her skirt off, and
was ready to climb down to him, naked.
There was another sailor there. He did not strip, but climbed in with the first
one. She heard a giggle, and a Sh! She resigned herself to missing out this
time, and spent the next two hours listening to them kissing, sucking and
fucking just inches from her. It was infuriating. But finally the fully dressed
sailor clambered out, buttoning himself up as he did so, and then she could
sleep.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
'I'm sorry, miss, we're not allowed to talk to you. Forbidden. Official Secret's
Act . Not being rude. Just under orders.'
It took ages to get from Portsmouth to London, especially as they drove
without lights, and often had to stop as planes went overhead. But finally she
was driven into the courtyard of and imposing building she knew must be in
the centre of London, because she could see Big Ben as they drove in.
A smart officer, well into middle-age, returned the two drivers' salutes and
helped her from the car, leading her up stairs and along corridors, lit only with
faint emergency lights. Finally into a comfortable office, properly lit.
'Well, my dear. This must be one of the safest places in the world just at the
moment. You are in the War Office with a battalion of infantry as guards, and
AA guns on all the roofs for a mile around. Now. You have a valuable
package?
She strained each limb of the doll, and as a gap appeared, a film fell out, four
into his hands. He picked up the phone. 'Southerby!'
A young officer took the capsules away.
'You have no idea how important they are!' She thought he looked very
handsome in his crisp, smart uniform. Slightly overweight, perhaps, but much
more interesting than most of her worn-out clients had been. 'I should think
they'll give you a medal for this, mademoiselle.'
She had a sudden feeling of pride and joy. She opened her arms and folded the
colonel in them. 'Oh! Thankyou, sir. How proud my Grandfather will be. He's
a General.'
'Harrumph!' The Colonel knew only too well that Suzette was a whore in a
high-class brothel. General, indeed.
'You've got a lot of medals, sir.' She ran her hand over the ribbons on his
chest. She allowed her body to press against his. 'And my Grandfather is a
General, sir. He's in Algeria with the rest of our army.' 'You must have been
brave to get all these.'
'Most of them are just for being there.' And yet he was enjoying this young
girl's admiration. And the feel of her young body pressed against his. You
could see her nipples through her blouse, he thought. He felt his cock harden.
So did Suzette!
'I'm sure a lot are for bravery, and you're very strong.' She gripped a bicep,
and then allowed her hand to rest a moment on his cock, making a tent now in
his khaki trousers.
'Keep fit, you know!' He found himself wondering what she would be like.
She seemed so young and innocent. So slender, so firm, her hair so blonde, her
eyes so blue. And yet she must be sexually experienced...yes, and skilled. She
would take it in all three places. What would it be like to have that pretty little
arse?
Suzette could see he was becoming desperate; his erection would be
magnificent. She took his hand and placed it under her skirt, on her naked
buttocks. She felt his cock twitch against her, through all their clothing.
'My dear! You should not.'
'What? Tempt a handsome and brave officer. Only the brave warriors deserve
this.' She took his other hand and slipped it into her blouse. She heard him
sigh, and kissed him. Her arms around his neck, she reached between them
and, one-handed, undid the buckle on his leather belt. The trousers fell to his
feet. Her hand now inside his shorts, she felt a hard cock, satisfactorily sized,
She slipped it out the side of the loose cotton, and still kissing him slipped her
cunt over it.
She allowed her weight to rest on his cock, driving it deep inside her. Now ,as
they kissed, he felt her cunt contract on him. Then relax. It alternately gripped
and released him.
His hands, supporting her weight, slipped into the crease of her arse. He could
feel her tits even through her blouse and his shirt.
She whispered in his ear. 'Little Suzette, milking her Daddy.' He had never
felt anything like this. He knew he was going to come. 'Daddy's nice hard
cock twitching as Daddy's little girl milks it.' It was too much, motionless, as
if cast in stone, they stood there as he emptied his balls into her in an orgasm
that was actually painful in its intensity.
'Jesus! Where did you learn to do that?'
She giggled. 'I think you know, Daddy. But now I want a proper fucking...'
'I've got a bed in the next room for when it's all night working.'
She was naked while he was still struggling with his boot laces. She stood
there, hands clasped high over her head. As she turned slowly, teasing him, he
watched her arse, and then her tits and belly came into view. it was at this
moment he was decided. Her tits, so round and firm, stretched upwards by her
pose, the fine blonde fuzz of hair on her mound, and the pretty pink cunt-lips,
those long, long, long slender legs! All this decided him.
He was naked now, his cock standing, pointing at her, as he sat on the edge of
the bed. 'You're supposed to be going off to a boarding school tomorrow. But
I think it's best for you to spend a fortnight orientation, stay in my London
flat. My family are off in Scotland for the duration and there's plenty of room.'
'Nice big double bed?
'Oh, yes!'
.........................................