Article 90170 of alt.sex.stories:
From: jsharpe@access.awinc.com (Caesar)
Subject: "Dream #1" (mf)
Date: 26 Oct 1995 22:54:15 GMT

[Caesar writes several fantasy tales by request from Samantha.
Samantha is the alias of another girlfriend(e-mail) - these are erotic
fantasies and attempts at romance, she _loved_ the stories.]

			       Dream #1
				  by
			      Caesar(92)
		      (upon request by Samantha)

	My regiment had fought and died those days in early July,
1944. Yet when we finally entered Caen, tired half-starved people
began to cheer. Not only that, a few brazen and obviously relieved
civilians ventured forth and embraced and gave us hastily picked
flowers. Many civilians were weeping, more were dazed from the fury of
the fighting. I felt very inadequate, most of the rubble that was left
of the city, had been massed bombed only the night before by the
Allied airforce. The few men under my command gave their share of
cigarettes and rations of food to the happy people. One young lad even
handed me the head off a home made doll, I hadn't the heart to return
it.

	Our orders had come early that morning of the 9th, the Maquis,
the French Resistance were leading us to the objective. The city
offices. It was called "Operation Goodwood", or by us Canadians,
"Operation Atlantic". The "Operation" seemed a very fancy word, in my
little corner of the battle, I was given objectives. And every one I
fought very hard for, we took. Yet as I walked through the rubble of
the streets, looking upon the thousands of refugees and huddled
persons in dark corners and under debris. My heart went out to them,
was all this destruction worth the lives that was taken. Sure the
allies had dropped leaflets to warn the city that it was about to be
bombed, but even as I walk down the streets and across mounds that
were once buildings, I often saw ugly grey bloated bodies. Once we
passed an emergency hospital, set up in a monks' refectory, bodies
were pilled outside it with little dignity, inside the dim and chaotic
interior could just be made out. I was in hell!

	Thankfully, the distance took little time. I stood behind a
corner of a windowless building and followed the pointing finger of
the Maquis guide. High in up in the building could just be seen the
shadow of crouched figure, a barrel sticking out the door. A sniper!
And no doubt, not alone. Unfortunately, most of the Division was sent
to the suburbs were large pockets of German resistance held on. The
average, sane infantryman hated door-to-door fighting. It was a
dangerous, hellious type of fighting. So many obstacles, and around
every corner could be a sniper or a company of men just waiting to
kill. Damn I wished we had the armour that was promised us by the
Brigade Commander.

	I had five men left in my section, and sent two around to the
right flank. I ordered two to wait and give cover fire as needed,
along with our resistance friend who was more than happy with the
prospect of killing Germans with his beat up Sten gun. Myself and
Corporal Dickson would enter the building.

	As soon as the two of us began to dart across the clearing I
knew it was a mistake. I felt then heard the shots only when we were
half way through the yard. I was grazed by two bullets, yet finally
shot through the front door with barely a scratch. Looking behind me,
I saw Corporal Dickson laying upon the cobblestones, dead. My men were
returning fire, yet I held little faith in that.

	I was alone, with an objective ahead of me. Yet a large part
of me wanted to curl up into a ball and hide away. Thankfully my duty
and the job held my sanity together. Through several messy rooms did I
go. Moving double time, I quickly found a stair going up. That was
when I got lost! The rooms became darker, the rooms tidier, yet still
unclean. My body was exhausted, with my kit strapped to my back and
the cumbersome rifle in my hands I soon had too stop to catch my
breath. Somewhere above me someone was still firing. I had to get the
sniper, it was either him or me.

	As I stood catching my breath, I suddenly heard a couple of
voices, speaking German, I caught only a word here and their,
"mischbrot", "wurstchen", "kase". If I remember correctly, they were
talking about food. Yet footsteps were coming closer. Frantically, I
quickly ran into the suite of rooms I was standing next to. I found a
locked door and effortlessly smashed through it. I stood facing the
door I just came through, the broken lock hanging limply. I followed
the sound of the voices as they went passed the place I had been
standing. I heard them going up, their jack boots making harsh noises
against the tile and wooden floors.

	Taking a breath I was about to continue with my assignment.
Then I heard something, more of a whimper. I spun around, my rife
pointing towards the sound. I saw nothing but a large desk and several
chairs and bookcases. But something had to be there!

	Slowly with soft step, I came around the edge of the desk. My
rifle pointing towards the hole under and behind the desk, the only
logical place for a person to be. I hoped it was just a dog, or
perhaps another type of animal that had crawled into that small hole.
Yet I saw it! A shape! A huddled, dirty woman lay in the fetal
position, her face hidden from me. What the hell was I to do? I bent
down my face coming closer to the desk opening. She was shivering,
perhaps in the damp morning air, or from fear. The woman only wore a
thin summer dress and heels. What was she doing here?

	With a gentle hand I placed my palm upon her arm hoping I
could calm her. Here was a human being, someone that had been
tormented by the German occupation and by the Allied air strikes, how
did I imagine I could calm her. I was cover in combat gear, not a very
calming sight I'm sure. I felt her warm soft skin and she stopped
shivering.

	"Mlle, are you all right?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
I felt sick, I did not want to be there in that dirty room, with
enemies only a few feet away, while I tried to comfort a young lady.

	She spoke one word before looking up, "ministre?" I saw her
face slowly look out from behind the crock of her arm. I saw her
pretty round face, large scared eyes, full lips, small nose. She was
very pretty. The woman asked me a question, and I could not understand
a word. So I improvised, and told her my name, Caesar, or rather my
nickname. She told me hers, yet I could not pronounce the French
version so I shortened it to Sam.

	Sam took her hands and arms from her face, sitting up as much
as that large desk allowed. Then she smiled at me! So you may ask?
Well, after the deaths of friends and the agony of victory, it was
almost too much. I saw her looking at my trouble faced, and she began
to cry. No I didn't cry, but I still felt the tears running down my
cheeks. One of her hands reached out daintily and wiped the tear from
my face.

	I sat upon the floor next to the opening of the desk, she
knelt next to me. With a motherly compassion, she bent forward and
kissed my wet cheek, her other hand holding my face steady. God, I
was confused, was I not supposed to be the victor, the knight in
shining armour? Yet here was this tiny attractive woman who was
stronger than I, comforting me. Upon the rest of my emotions I felt
shame.

	Sam placed her cheek next to mine, holding me. When I finally
got hold of myself, I realized she held me in a death grip. She was
not going to let go. I turned my face towards her, our eyes only six
inches apart. "Please Mlle, I have to go. You must understand, people
are depending on me!" She closed her eyes and kissed me. This time
upon the lips, very softly and with great amount of emotion. It was
too much upon my trouble soul, and I returned the unknown woman's
kiss. Sam was patient with my hungry sadness. I forced her lips open
with my own. My tongue sliding into her mouth, finally coming in
contact with hers. My hand grasped her flimsy dress and I tore the
remaining buttons off the front, exposing her undergarments. I was
hungry for passion, for love. Yet for several years all I had known
was pain and death. The softness of a woman was almost forgotten upon
me, certainly how to touch a lady was alien was.

	I stopped, thankfully before I had begun to rape her, my mind
finally taking control of my emotions. Sam surprised me, she looked me
straight in the eye with even more emotion and compassion. She took
her hands off me and began to disrobe. Off came the ripped dress, her
shoulders exposed. It hung about its cord around her waist. Then she
reached behind her and undid the clasp for her bra, the undergarment
fell to the floor next to both of us.

	Sam knelt, her back straight, looking right at me. I
unashamed, looked at her exposed skin. I fell for that unknown French
woman, I could see the imperfections of her flesh, but desired all.
She was a beautiful woman who had lived through years of hell, why did
she offer me this gift? I have never known.

	Slowly she grasped my free hand and brought it to her chest,
my large palm cupping the firm roundness of her breast. Her nipple
began to harden under my rough hand, reminding me of the of love I had
lost because of this war. I was almost ran out of their at that
moment, yet only her eyes held me in place. She withdrew her hand from
mine, and I felt her fumble with the front of my clothing. My webbing
was undone, then the buttons of my trousers and lower jacket. I was
conscious of my unwashed body, and almost began to laugh. To be
worried about such a thing sitting here in this ransacked building
with Germans a floor above me, and both of our bodies had not seen a
bath for many a week. I realized, finally, that the simple pleasures
of the flesh was not the reason that Sam was doing this. Perhaps, like
me, she needed to feel the closeness of another human, even with the
stench of war covering us.

	A warm small hand held my hardness, forced it passed my boxer
shorts to point up out of my dishevelled clothing. I don't remember a
moment when I had been more excited, or felt closer to any person in
my life. With anxious and deliberate movements she knelt up then swung
a knee and leg over my lap. Sam moved her hanging skirt from between
her legs and reached up with one hand to move her undergarments aside.
Her other hand held my shoulder steadying herself, while her eyes
never left mine.

	During that time, I had placed both hands upon her full
breasts. I marvelled in the warm softness of woman, and wanted more.
Yet this time I was patient.

	Sam sighed very loudly, just as I felt her warm wetness
envelope me. She sat upon my lap, locked together by more than sex.
She cupped her breasts in her hands, pointing that perfect areola
towards my salivating lips. I tasted her skin, reviling in the
hardness beneath my tongue. I alternated between the globes, almost
not noticing her slow movements up and down upon my shaft.

	Time went slowly, our movements more urgent. My lips had left
her breasts and found her hungry mouth. Our tongues danced to the beat
of our joining. I marvelled at her wetness, wanted to see it, yet her
skirt hid everything. The moisture contained their was making erotic
wet noises. She began to moan deep down in her throat and I forced my
tongue into her mouth to silence her in the most polite way I knew
how. She accepted my gift.

	Before I realized what was going on, Sam froze, with only the
unknown joined portions quivering and spasming delightfully upon me. I
spent a great tribute to this unknown woman, flooding her with my
seed. She squealed with pleasure, feeling the warm liquid hit deep
inside her, filling her up. Her hips wiggled wonderfully, bringing a
groan from my lips.

	It was over.

	Sam lay over me, spent as I. Slowly the sounds that surrounded
us began to reach me. I could hear the sounds of treads, the tanks
that had been promised to my section. I had to leave this woman, yet
that was the hardest thing I had yet to do in my short years. I gently
moved her off me, and told her to stay under the desk. When it was
over I would return, what then, I don't know?

	I stood ready, my soul finally cured of its afflictions. Yet
again, it almost broke. The look in her eyes as I was only steps away
from the door to this room was enough to fill my heart with
foreboding. I must do my duty, if not for my commanders then for her.
I would return!

	Swiftly without looking back I left her, soon finding the
stairs going up. Silently I reached the top, through the rubble I saw
five Germans smoking and laughing. One was on watch looking out the
large window. I could not understand what they said, yet I didn't
care. I blamed them for causing Sam her pain, I wanted to hurt them.
Taking careful aim, I shot two before the others even reacted. My
position upon the stair, looking over the edge of the floor, gave me
good cover. And I was able to wound another soldier. Then the wall
behind the remaining Germans blew wards, killing them instantly and
showering me with debris. One hit me very hard and I as knocked
senseless.

	Confusion was what I awoke to, around me a sea of brown and
green uniforms. A doctor knelt next to my prone body, examining my
head wound. "A scratch really, though head wounds do bleed a lot." He
quickly left me to attend another fallen comrade. In only hours I was
again with my section, as they sat with the tank crew in front of that
building I knew so well. With barely a glance at my men I entered the
cleared building, finding nothing.

	Sam was gone!

				 -*-