3 comments/ 17165 views/ 1 favorites The Airman By: jmbasquiat_fan For Don, who has always been my #1 fan. Thanks for the idea, the historical background, and the willingness to let your mostly fictionalized past be posted here online. Thanks, hunny! :oD ------------------------------------------------- I met him in a bar off 6th St. Things were different then. It was the middle of the Korean War, 1951, and in our little town of Bridgeport there was enough patriot spirit left over from World War II that every available and able-bodied male was either a veteran or a serviceman. Some of the women were in service too, as WACs. You know, the Women's Army Corps. Like Jeannie who worked at her husband's garage- he came back from service in France, found out she ran the place better than he did, and with her WAC training she fixed cars better, too! That was a hoot-n'-holler, the fight that came out of that. She was nice to him and "kept him on"- in his own business! Anyway, I digress. You'll have to forgive an old woman for rambling down memory lane, sweetheart. Gramma Cora had happier times then. I just want you to know where you really come from- I tried to tell your mama once and she wouldn't stand for it. Oh, no, she wouldn't! I suppose it was to be expected, since she'd grown up thinkin' your Grandpapa Rich was her real daddy. And he did take a shine to her- absolutely adored your mama, loved her like his own. Never knew she wasn't, in fact. I'm going to tell you about your real grandpapa now, honey, so listen up. It was in September of 1951, and I was having a little time to myself at a bar after work- it was my 28th birthday. I worked as a secretary for a stuck-up, pompous idiot. And I got paid pretty well for it. Anyway, I remember him coming up to the bar, dressed up in his Air Force uniform. Now, seeing as how he was a serviceman like my husband and looked really lonely- I offered to buy him a drink. After all, I was lonely too. We got to talking a little after the initial "Thank you's" and "nice to meet you's". He was really a pretty nice guy. I think you would have liked him. He was smart, funny, and very handsome. Those silly movie stars in that movie "Pearl Harbor" wouldn't have had anything on him if they'd been standing side by side. That's the best thing about the genuine article. It's always better. Anyway, I found out he had no place to stay, and since Richard was away dropping bombs on little Asian heads I invited Dan (that was the mystery soldier's name) to stay in the unused study. All he had in the world was a duffel and $50, and that had to last until he got home to Ohio for his month-long leave. I wasn't going to take money from this poor man! No, sir, that would have been unpatriotic of me! But I had noticed the way he was looking at me. Your granny used to be pretty sexy, back in the day. Skinny little waist, great butt, size C breasts, and let's just say they didn't call me "Legs" at work for nothing. I told Dan he could pay me by helping out around the house. That evening he hauled trash for me, dried dishes, and helped me clean out my refrigerator- he sure ate a lot for a skinny boy! I found out he was 22, that's 6 whole years younger than me. And he was eyeing me all the while, too. Eventually, I said there was one thing I needed his help with more than anything else. I pulled him to my bedroom and said I couldn't reach the light in the closet. When he had his back turned, I unbuttoned my dress and dropped it to the floor, then I let my slip slide down to join it. He turned around, and his breath caught right in the middle of him telling me that there was nothing wrong with the bulb. I stepped out of the puddle of my clothes and walked toward him. I laughed because he started stripping like a 13-year-old heading for his favorite swimming hole. He was in nothing but his cotton-white boxer shorts when he walked the few remaining feet to me, pulled me close, and kissed me. I'd never felt such hunger for a woman from anyone in my life! His mouth consumed mine, his arms coiled like a snake around me, and I felt like I was drowning in his passion. He eased up and played with me some, caressing my arms and back, his tongue flicking lightly over my lips. When I moaned, he took the opportunity and thrust his tongue inside my mouth. His hands reached for the clasp of my bra and I stopped him, then navigated his hands down until they were at the clasp of my garter belt. I felt my garter belt loosen as he pulled his lips from mine, and then he, my garter belt, and my panties slid down my body. They were pooled at my feet, and he was kneeling in front of me. That marvelous tongue of Dan's went up between my thighs. Pretty soon I was battening down the hatches of my hands on his head to keep from drowning in the stormy orgasm his U.S.S. PussyLicker was leaving in it's wake. I swooned, and he caught me. He picked me up like it was nothing and carried me to the bed my husband had assembled himself. We lay together on the bed. He was fascinated with my breasts. He was rubbing them lightly, squeezing them. He whispered his lips over them. He nibbled the tips of my nipples. It seemed an eternity of pleasure for me, and all over the lace and satin of my brassiere. He tried to take it off, and believe me he was creative, but I wouldn't let him. Finally he couldn't take anymore- teasing me was torture for him as well. He kneeled on the bed that my husband and I had shared, removing his boxers to let me see his member. It was a little longer and thinner than my husband's, but with a bigger head than I had ever seen. He used this head to prolong my angonizing pleasure and rubbed it along my slit. He drew little circles with his cockhead around my clit and slid it so slow it was barely moving toward my hole. I was thrusting upward , but he kept his hand on my abdomen- I wasn't going to get penetrated until he decided I was. Goodness, how that turned me on! My lower mouth was watering at the thought of his penis inside of me, and my upper mouth was making a good deal of noise. I went dead silent the second he thrust into me, my breath taken away by the rush of orgasm crushing down on me like a tidal wave. He started slowly, missionary style. As he became more excited, his hands came up to my breasts and he begged my to take my bra off, but I wouldn't. That just made him shove himself harder into me and fondle my breasts more. This rough play was getting me hot again, too, and I was close to cumming yet again. My husband never took me with such force. Rich had always made love to me gently, like a delicate glass flower set to shatter any moment. Dan would have none of that sweetness, and I found I didn't want it. Dan forced me onto my side, despite my protestations, and lifted my top leg straight up. He straddled my lower leg and pushed into me. His loins were grinding on my clit, and the head of his dick was hitting every sensitive spot I had. He mauled my tits and thrust faster and harder until the bed was thumping the wall so hard we were crumbling plaster. His grunts were loud, low, and sexy as he came in me. I felt his seed hit the entrance to my womb and moaned as I passed out from sexual overload. When I came to the next morning, he was in the kitchen making breakfast. I was still mostly naked as we sat down to breakfast at my kitchen table. He asked why, since I obviously had big and beautiful tits, I wouldn't let him see them. I said they were Rich's favorite part of me, and I should save something just for him. He smiled, we had breakfast. We kissed inside my front door, and he fingered me to orgasm. We wished each other all the best. That was the last I saw of him. Fortunately Rich came back from his tour of duty the next week. He'd been shot on a jump, and was more than happy to let me ride him until he came. I had a blood test done, and no way could your mama have been Rich's. I was B-type, and so was Rich, but your mama is an AB, and that didn't come from us. Neither did that light brown hair- Rich was a blonde, and I used to be a redhead before I went all gingery. Anyway, now you know your roots, mostly. Best sex I ever had in my life, too... Hey now, young man, just what do you think you're doing? You leave your old Gramma Cora alone! Don't you touch those panties, they're staying where they are! You get your tongue away from- ooh... Mm, you're definitely Dan's grandson! Is it all right if I leave my bra on? The Airman and the Farm-Girl There was a terrifying silence from the engines. The deafening, comforting roar was suddenly missing, replaced by a whistling wind and incoherent yells on the intercom. Acrid, choking smoke was thick in the air and the aircraft was now at an unnatural angle as it dived uncontrollably. He had heard the skipper's shout to bail out, the order that he'd hoped would never come. At this point he wasn't about to argue, he was already buckling on his parachute as he made his way along a narrow passage to the emergency exit. Adrenaline generated by pure terror made him fumble briefly as he clipped the line onto a hook, twisted a handle, threw open the hatch and climbed out into the slipstream. Immediately he was snatched by the wind, into a freezing, suddenly silent blackness. The jolt as the parachute opened was vicious but welcome. He wasn't about to drill his own grave at 200 mph after all. The young airman hung in the harness, waiting, waiting. He heard an explosion, perhaps the end of the bomber. He wondered if any of his mates had made it. There was a familiar drone of other aircraft in the distance, he recognised some of the sounds as Lancasters, others were single-engined fighters. Then the peace was broken as through the shadows he saw trees rushing up and there was another crashing jolt and a gentle swinging. Apart from a creaking sound from the tree branches snagging the 'chute, all was peaceful. Where the bloody hell was he? In both senses, he thought. Was he 50 feet in the air or 5 inches? Was he in Germany, France, Belgium, Poland? He was fairly sure he wasn't in Britain. He tended to be unconcerned with the route of the operations during briefing, he was a passenger in the back - let the pilot and navigator worry about where they were going, instead he listened to the bits about air defences. That was the bit that concerned him, night fighter squadrons waiting to intercept. So now he was in occupied territory, for sure. He decided to wait. At least he was still alive whilst he waited - and didn't have a broken back or something perhaps even worse. "Tommy." He woke with a start - he had been sleeping, how long for? "Tommy." The word came again, insistent. He was cold and he struggled to get his brain working. He opened his eyes and found that dawn was breaking. He was about six feet from the ground, frost was on the grass around and a woman was calling softly to him. She was hiding in a bush several yards away but clearly visible to him. Not young, maybe in her sixties or even older, wearing an old worn-out overcoat and boots. "Come, hurry." He weighed up his options and staying stuck in the tree felt like the worst of those available. He punched the release button and the harness fell away from his shoulders allowing him to fall forwards and land clumsily head-first on the ground. He scrambled to his feet and ran towards the woman, abandoning the parachute still entangled in the branches. "Hurry," she called and walked quickly in front of him, leading him through the trees until they came to a field, which they skirted until they came upon a low stone hut. She pointed inside. "Stay. Quiet." She was insistent, so he entered. It was possibly a shelter for animals, he surmised. It was dry inside but not very clean; it had a thick scattering of dung on the floor. "Hide." She was gone, vanished into the woodland. Hide? He was happy enough to stay in the shed or whatever it was, he had no idea what else to do. Besides, his wrists were now both hurting after his fall from the tree. He sat and waited. Really, this game was much like his experience of the air force, hurry up and wait was the saying. Rush to Parade and wait to be inspected. Rush to the aircraft, wait to get shot at. Eventually he heard male voices, German. Panic-stricken he shrank into the deepest, darkest corner and tried to move a loose rock to hide behind. Luckily it shifted and he pressed himself into the dirt and shadows behind the dung heap, turning his face into a crevice in the wall where some air entered to dilute the stench of ammonia. Presently a person came to the shed entrance and hesitated briefly outside. The person shouted something and then moved away. Surely he had been seen? Apparently not, he could hear the voices becoming fainter. He remained motionless for perhaps an hour until he dared to peer out of the shelter. All was quiet. His wrists were agony now, throbbing, making movement of his hands impossible. He waited again. Darkness came at last and he was hungry. Then suddenly, the woman was with him at the entrance. "Tommy, come." She led him back into the woodland and eventually to a farmhouse. They entered and he saw that it was plainly furnished. A girl was waiting there. She was maybe 18, 19 years old, may have been pretty with her blonde hair if she hadn't been so poorly dressed and unkempt, wearing a thin plain dress which showed a healthy pair of jutting breasts and wide child-bearing hips. She spoke, with marginally better English than her elder. "Boche find sheet in tree. They come, search. Find nothing, they gone now, everything is good. You eat." The old woman handed him a bowl of watery soup containing some potato, cabbage and some bits of sausage and fat. The girl continued "Boche kill my father, my mother taken to work in factory. Maybe she dead also. This my Grandmother, we live here." The old woman took off her overcoat but kept her boots on. She was clearly active for her age and carried no spare weight except for her sagging large breasts. The pitiful diet probably helped with that, he thought. The airman tried to hold the bowl but the pain stabbed through him and he set it down quickly on the wooden table with a splash. The women looked at him with surprise, so he showed his arms in explanation. The older woman held his hand and turned it, causing him to yelp. She tried again more gently, examining both wrists. She spoke briefly to the girl who translated. "My mother not speak good English, your hands not kaput, they better in some days. Now you rest hands until better." Yes, that's what he was thinking. His wrists were sprained but thankfully not broken. She handed him a wooden spoon but he found he could not handle it to eat the soup. The woman fed him with the spoon whilst he rested his arms on the table. A feeble log fire flickered in the fireplace and a candle provided a poor light. The girl spoke again "You come to kill the Boche, you hero, you our friend. You safe here, we look after you." The woman finished feeding the airman and led him to a bedroom. "You sleep, safe here. If any problem, you hide here." She pointed to a cupboard under the bed, which looked tiny but was deceptively roomy and looked just about big enough to hold him. He tried to remove his flight jacket but he had no strength in his arms. The old woman helped him with the thick garment and then left the room. She returned with strips of sacking which she used to bandage his sprained wrists. She unfastened and removed his trousers and boots, then indicated a pot in the corner of the room for use in the night. Then he was left alone to sleep. There was a rough blanket but precious little else on the thin mattress. He covered himself, the blanket was generously sized but not effective against the lack of heating. However he was a country lad himself and soon he was dozing. He was awakened by the door to his room opening. Someone was approaching in the dark, someone who knew their way around - not a stranger. His blanket moved, then a person was getting in the bed with him. She was wearing a thin night-dress which she held raised to her waist and her warmth spread easily to him. She turned and spooned her bare backside into his lap. It was the old woman, her hips were not wide and padded like the girl's. Despite himself he could feel an erection coming on with the proximity of uncovered female flesh. She was surprisingly soft and compliant as she snuggled against him. Back home he lived in his parents house, which also served as the village shop. He had little real experience of women; there had been village dances of course and once a local girl had given him a kiss when it had been announced that he was leaving for the war. However the attentions of the opposite sex had largely escaped him. He had listened to tales of bravado in the barracks but sometimes felt that he was destined to die a virgin. From sly glances in the bath-house he knew that he was not under-endowed, indeed some of his mates were considerably smaller - not that he had seen many whilst erect. This woman did not recoil from his hardening, nor did she turn and smack him in the face. To his confusion she even snuggled further back and reached behind her to hold his penis, releasing it from his military-issue underwear. She moved it down and under her bottom, into the space between her thighs where it was more comfortable. Then she was holding his penis with her hand between her legs and pressing it against her soft flesh. Her body was rocking and she was rubbing against him. He could feel rough hair, then an unfamiliar moistness as she parted for him. He found himself within a place that was much warmer and more pleasant than his fist, which was all that he had previously experienced. She sighed and continued the rocking motion. He tried to move position but she held him still, making sure that all the movements were made by her alone. With a regular rhythm she moved and swivelled her hips, pressing the underside of his penis with her fingers, holding him in place to make sure that he didn't escape from her body. Soon he stiffened and groaned as he expelled himself into her. She lay still for a while as he softened and slipped away from her, then she rose from the bed and left the room closing the door behind her. The airman adjusted his shorts and went back to sleep. * * * In the morning he was awakened early by noises from the two women talking and moving. He rose and relieved himself into the pot, then tried to pull on his trousers. His hands were stiff and it took a few attempts. Then the door opened and the woman beckoned him. She led him to an outside sink and gave him a razor. "Son. Dead now." she explained. He had lived all his childhood in a rural area, although not on a farm so he was familiar with the outside facilities and the rudimentary lavatory in a small shed that had a simple plank over a hole containing a soil-heap. He ate a breakfast of home-made bread and brackish coffee, whilst the women spoke in their guttural language. "You stay here for now, we contact people who work with Resistance, then you leave." The girl spoke to him. "No names, safer this way. We build escape hole, you not be seen." The woman gave him a coat to hide the conspicuous flight jacket and they walked out to the shed that passed as the lavatory. Nearby, she picked up a shovel and started to dig. The ground was soft and she was soon in a hole a couple of feet deep. She gave the shovel to the girl who went down deeper and then climbed out. The man grabbed the shovel and with difficulty he dug, his stiff wrists not hampering him completely. Soon by taking turns they had a hole easily big enough for a person to lie in. Then the two women crossed to the shed and picked the flimsy structure up completely in the air leaving a hole half-full with sewage. The shed was placed it over the new hole with some dirt scattered to conceal the gaps. The spare soil was used to fill the previous hole, covering the contents. "No-one search there" smiled the girl. "We use old place now." She led the way to the side of the house where there was a stone shelter full of firewood. They cleared out the wood, revealing a bucket. She placed a plank of wood into recesses in the wall so that it was over the bucket and the firewood was piled up to conceal the entrance from outside. He spent the rest of the day following the women as they did chores around the farm, helping where he could. Another bowl of watery soup served as supper and soon afterwards they went to bed as the night came. He waited in the darkness but the woman didn't visit and eventually he slept. The door opened, awakening him. It was light from the morning sun and the girl entered in a rush. "Hide, quiet" she whispered, pointing to the cupboard. He swiftly climbed in and he was followed by his blanket and the clothes that he had discarded. The hatch was shut firmly, then he heard the room door close and he waited. There was the sound of male voices and boots around the house, then the door to his room was opened. Shortly later the male voices were silent. An hour later the door to the house burst open again and male and female voices shouted. His room was entered again whilst the women shouted in the background, then silence fell again. Some hours later again, the girl opened his cupboard and allowed him out. "Bastards came back, searching." she explained angrily. "Find nothing, I think someone in village say something. I don't know, there is old man who look at me sometimes. Creepy. Maybe he want this farm, he not have any land." Then as he stood with his joints stiff from the confinement, she was suddenly in his arms, trembling. He held her tight and gradually she calmed. Her thin dress did little to conceal her body and as he held his arms around her and her hair was against his face, he could feel the ribs on her back and smell her natural scent. Soon it was he that trembled. Her mouth found his and she kissed urgently as if she wanted to bruise his lips. He felt her tongue between his teeth and he parted them to allow her to meet his tongue. Her arms dropped and then her hands were at his groin, touching his privates. Urgently she unfastened his trousers and felt inside his shorts, fondling him. Arousing, he slid his hands down her back until he was holding her strong backside. Then she was frantic, pulling her dress up and over her head showing her thread-bare underclothes; long knickers and a thin vest. Her nipples were erect and clearly visible, so he looked away from them so that she wouldn't be embarrassed. He could almost hear his mother telling him not to stare rudely. She pushed him back onto the bed and removed his uniform, his white cotton shorts tenting in front of her. Then she pulled off his underclothes so that he was naked, stiff penis sticking ridiculously in the air, before she discarded the last of her clothing. She stood proudly baring her young but well developed breasts with areolae the size of peas, which he could see stood out from her gaunt body, carried high on her chest without any of the signs of the ageing that showed on her grandmother. Her defiant nipples pointed firmly upwards and a luxuriant bush of pubic hair covered her intimate parts, dark brown curls contrasting with the milky white skin and the fair hair on her head. This was the first time he had actually ever seen a nude female and the moment was over too soon. She moved close, bending over so that the breasts dangled loosely. Her mouth was kissing his chest before he knew it and then she was straddling him, groping for his cock. Almost violently she manipulated him to full erection and forced him to the entrance between her thighs, pushing him inside her. There was a resistance at the start and he thought that he would snap with the force of her weight. Then he was inside her, with a cry that escaped from her mouth. She sat still, recovering from the effort and pain with her knees either side of his body, hands resting on his shoulders. Then she moved up slightly on her knees so that he was partially withdrawn, before she sank again to repeat the sensation. She bent over to brush her pink nipples against his chest, before kissing him roughly again, bruising her lips against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gripped with every part of her body. She felt completely different. Whereas the older woman had been an extraordinarily warm and welcoming space around his cock, the girl was tight and squeezed around him. When she moved, he felt her warm body move right along the length of his shaft. As she sank down his foreskin was pulled back by her tightness until the sensation was painful. A pleasant exciting pain that he was happy to suffer. She started to fuck him, determined to relish every moment of the experience. Quickly the pace increased until she was heaving against him wildly, breasts bouncing. She suddenly orgasmed, which surprised them both. Slumping, she tried to regain her breath. The airman sat up and hugged the panting girl, crushing her soft yet firm breasts between them. Then he shifted onto his knees whilst remaining hard and fully inside her. He leaned her onto her back and so he was able to start his own rhythm, screwing gently at first but building up to a climax whilst she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him. When he finished he collapsed into her embrace, coated in sweat and they both gasped for oxygen together. She kept her legs locked, pulling him closely against herself. In another room of the house, the old woman listened to the primeval sounds and smiled to herself. She touched that part that she knew still had the power to produce such pleasure, both for herself and for others. She reached for a nearby candle and inserted the worn length of tallow into her body. She moved it in time to the noises from elsewhere in the house, thinking of the previous encounter. After a long time the farm-girl released the airman, allowing him to escape from her body. He saw traces of blood on his privates and turned away from her to conceal the drying stains. They dressed wordlessly and carried on with the day's work. He was young and his wrists were healing quickly, he was a fast learner in the ways of the farm and able to help with jobs that needed more strength than was available to the women. That night, the girl came straight to his room and climbed into his bed. She fondled him more tenderly this time and showed him where to touch her so that she shuddered with the sensation. In return, he encouraged her to stroke him in the ways that he enjoyed the most. When they finally coupled, they were both so aroused that they orgasmed together almost immediately and then lay restfully before sleeping. Weeks and then months passed, and there was little talk of contacting the Resistance. Instead of struggling or asking a neighbour for assistance the jobs were now completed quickly without fuss. The airman became useful around the farm, digging crops and repairing things long damaged. A leaking roof tile, a gate between the fields, a coop for some chickens. In the nights the girl always visited him. Their love-making became gentle and prolonged, filling the long dark evenings with joys that had evaded both previously. She now greeted each day with enthusiasm instead of endurance. She brushed her hair and pinched her cheeks to bring pinkness to them, found decorations for her threadbare clothes. The old lady looked fondly at the couple and remembered previous times when she had been a young woman with a life before her. Early one morning there was a banging on the door that could not be denied. The old lady came to their room and spoke quickly to the girl. There was no time to run across the yard to the toilet shed hide, the Germans were already there. The airman dived into the compartment under the bed. Even as the hatch was shut, the front door flew open and a man in uniform with a gun entered. He was followed by others and the house was searched. It didn't take long for the airman to be found and with much shouting he was taken from the farmhouse and placed into the rear of a truck with armed guards. The lorry was driven away by the soldiers. The Airman and the Farm-Girl Ch. 02 The coach carrying the services reunion tour trundled through the forestry as Roger gazed out of the window. The concrete road was endlessly long and he could not recognise any features of the countryside which was flat and monotonous with the occasional village and farm. The rhythmic thumping of the tyres against the joins in the road surface struck a chord and he started humming a tune in time to the beat. The daylight faded and then he could see little of the land. Behind him there was a low babble of chatter which quietened as the vehicle entered a town square and slowed to a stop. The men rose and shuffled in their brightly polished shoes to the door; all were wearing smart blazer jackets with medal ribbons. They collected suitcases from the side of the vehicle before making their way to the front door of a nearby hotel. Flags hung limply from poles above the entrance, Roger recognised the banner of the Royal Air Force and the national flag of the country, others were of a variety of crests that he didn't recognise. The local mayor was waiting resplendent with a gold chain over his stout belly but with dusty shoes, he noticed. Some speeches were made to welcome the heroes who had fought for the country and liberated it from the occupying forces, but soon Roger was able to enter the hotel and locate his allocated room. An evening meal was served in the dining room and due to the late hour he adjourned to bed. The next day he was able to explore the tiny village and try to recognise the landmarks. After a couple of hours he found himself climbing a low hill with an area of woodland to the side. He strode more confidently as he saw a tumble of fallen stones at the side of a field, then an old farm in the distance. It was the place he was sure, he now recognised the whole scene as he looked all around. There before him was the farmhouse where he had stayed with two women for several months risking inevitable capture. As he neared the buildings a dog barked and a woman stood in a doorway and stared with hostility. He approached her and spoke hesitantly. "Good day, do you live here?" The woman replied, but in the local language that he could barely understand when he had lived there. Now, after the years of disuse it was unintelligible. He tried again, asking if the woman remembered a girl and old lady who used to live there. However the woman was not helpful, she spoke no English and eventually he politely thanked her for her time and returned to the village. Back in the hotel, he rejoined his companions for luncheon. The men were to stay in the hotel for another night; in the afternoon a visit was organised to a nearby wartime camp, a highlight of the trip. The camp was notorious; the place where many people had met their end in horrific circumstances. As he sat in the dining room and waited whilst cold meats were served by waitresses in white blouses and frilly aprons with their hair tied back in severe buns. Roger found himself idly watching the backside of one of them enclosed in a tight black skirt as it moved amongst the tables. The firm buttocks swivelled beneath the thin material, showing the tantalising lines of underwear. Then the waitress turned to him and stood still. He looked up at her wondering if she had a question - or had noticed him checking out her ass. But she was stationary, staring into his eyes. Then he saw the face that he had sought; a little older, more care-worn, but the girl from the farmhouse in that bygone era was standing before him looking as if she had seen a ghost. Slowly the plate that she was holding tipped over until the slice of processed ham fell silently to the floor. * * * She sat quickly on a vacant chair facing him. "It is you, come back," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "Yes," he replied. "I came to see you again." Suddenly she moved and was in his arms. There were no words between them but he became aware of a voice shouting behind. It was the owner of the hotel, the mayor who had welcomed the party earlier. The woman jumped away and picked up the fallen piece of meat. She ran off with it to the kitchen and the hotelier quietened. Roger sat at his table and waited, and soon she returned with a fresh plate. "I see you afterwards. I can't speak now." She scurried away and he ate his scanty meal silently, nervously anticipating the continuation of the reunion so briefly interrupted. After the food was eaten he rose and left the room, then he found that she was following him up the stairs. He turned and faced the girl; she spoke first. "I have waited for you to return, I was afraid it would never happen." He took her hand and led her into his room. They sat on the bed holding hands and he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so happy, I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered. "I was sent to a prison camp hundreds of miles away after I was captured, and since I was repatriated home I've been running the shop in my village. I never married; never met anyone to compare with you. I've been trying to get back to this area to find you again, now here I am," he explained. "What happened to you?" "My Grandmother and I were taken by the Gestapo, she saved me by saying that it was just her that looked after you in the farm. She disappeared, I never saw her again. Afterwards I had to live with friends in the village, I had nowhere to live. The farm was taken from us, I could not go back there." Roger raised his hand and stroked her greying hair, suddenly she was in his arms embracing him and he could feel her wet cheeks against his face. She pushed him backwards on the bed so that he was looking up at her ample breasts and he heard two light thumps as her shoes fell to the floor. "Are we allowed to know each other's names now?" he smiled. Previously they had decided that it would be safer for all if they never knew each other's identity. "We are safer now, so I expect we may; I am Justine." "Finally after all this time, I can tell you that I am Roger." He traced his fingers around her face and wiped away her tears, then continued slowly downwards over her neck and shoulders. "Justine. A pretty name, a pity that I never knew it before." "They were dangerous times, it was necessary." She hitched her knees up so that she was kneeling over him and placed her palms on his ribs, stroking him up to his shoulders and down his arms, feeling his muscles. She reached up and unpinned her hair. The locks fell free around her face as she leaned forwards and unbuttoned his shirt so that she could run her fingernails down his body, leaving faint red lines on his pale skin. She took his head in her hands and kissed him deeply, gripping her knees around his hips. "Such a long time, I thought you would never return. But it is you." Roger lifted his hands and supported her breasts, feeling her brassiere. He slowly unfastened her blouse and she shrugged it away. Then she pressed herself to him so that he was able to unclasp the rear of the bra which fell loose as she sat upright again. Her breasts fell to his hands naturally, as she pressed her groin against the rising hardness beneath her. He felt the soft flesh in his palms, heavier but almost as firm as he remembered. The nipples were darker and larger but then she leaned over him, her body was against his face and her scent was in his nostrils transporting his memory back to those distant, heady months before their sudden separation. He felt her hands loosening his trousers and grasping his cock as he came to be fully erect. Then she eased herself up and he felt himself being enveloped inside her soft warm moistness. He could feel the tight edge of her underwear against him and he realised that she had eased her panties to one side rather than waste time removing them. She sank slowly down to feel him deep inside before moving quickly, grinding and humping. When she arched her back and threw herself backwards to feel him more firmly, she came explosively and then fucked him furiously, trying to maintain the orgasm endlessly. Then he came, spurting a steady flow into her. Afterwards he lay still catching his breath whilst she still moved her hips against his softening penis, trying to prolong the moment. She kept him inside as she bent down to embrace him, her breasts crushed against his chest. Eventually he slipped from her and they separated. Still lying facing each other, she adjusted her panties and skirt to cover herself but leaving her top comfortably exposed. He lay with his trousers undone to his knees, his cock flaccid but still enlarged. "So, Justine. Tell me what happened. Why did you lose the farm?" "That was always what happened. It was wartime, we were betrayed. The collaborator was rewarded with the property of the person caught, that was all." "Who lives there now?" "The same man, with his family. He became rich and powerful in the war, he owns the hotel, everything." "The fat man? The mayor?" "Yes that is the one," replied Justine. "He was able to purchase even the mayor's office by corruption and favours to his friends." "Why do you stay here, working for him?" "Where else can I go? I have no means, nowhere to go. If I did not work at the hotel I would starve in the forest. Besides, I have been waiting for your return." Roger sat up. "I will kill him, I will return your farm to you. The bastard, he won't get away with this." Justine laughed bitterly. "All you will achieve is to go to prison, Anyway I don't want the farm. It was hard work and I don't have the strength for it now. The hotel is much easier, even if I have to put up with him feeling my bottom every time I am bending over. He is a pig, he makes all the staff wear tight clothes so that he can look at us. His wife must be stupid." She swept her hair back with her fingers and inserted some pins to fix the bun again, glancing in the bedside mirror. She stood, collecting her bra and blouse which she held in her hand. "I have to go, I'm a sticky mess." Standing, her breasts were a little lower than when she was young when those fine tits had been high and tight, her stomach had lost the tautness of youth and hung ever so slightly over the waistband of her skirt with its apron still fastened. But she still looked good, the fire still burned in her eyes and she held his gaze. "If you wish to bathe, you can use the bathroom here," he offered. "I would not do that." Her eyes burned into his. "I will keep what is from you. It is with me for a purpose." "What do you mean? I am confused." Roger leaned forwards. "When I was imprisoned they interrogated me and I was beaten of course. I had little to tell so the beatings continued. I lost the baby that I was carrying. Since then I have always wished to carry your child once more." Justine revealed the news without blinking. Roger was stunned to silence. After a long pause he spoke up "That's what you were telling me when you were rubbing your stomach as the guards took you away." "Yes," she replied. "I was so pleased to be carrying your child, I could not bear for you not to know. One day I will carry again and give a son or daughter to you. Perhaps soon." She quietly dressed, replacing the bra, blouse and shoes. Then she left the room and closed the door behind her. * * * Roger walked downstairs to the lobby. The rest of his party had left without him to continue with the itinerary of the day so he was left to his own devices. That would teach him to get laid at lunchtime on a guided tour, he thought. The TV was on but the volume was turned down and in any case he would have been unable to understand it, so he ordered a coffee at the bar and sat outside at a table under a tree to watch the world pass by. A while later he found himself being joined by Justine, who had changed out of her uniform and was now wearing a flimsy flowing skirt and loose top, with high heels. She sat next to him at the table and spoke. "Roger, can you take me with you?" "What do you mean, where to?" "To England. I want to leave this place, there is nothing for me here." He was surprised. "I don't know. I'll have to think how it can be done." "I hate this place, I have friends but I need to get away, but I have no money and on my wages it is impossible to save." He thought briefly. "I'll make some arrangements if you really want to. Pack your bags, we leave in the morning." "I have nothing. I share a room in the staff quarters, I can go now, I don't care. One more night here in this town is too many." She was trembling. "What is it that you're not telling me? There's something else." "It is the mayor, the pig. He makes me shudder. I always have to make the soup for his supper, he will put his hand up my skirt in the kitchen and touch me. I have to touch him back, if I refuse he will fire me and there is no other work. Always he find fault with the soup, too hot, too cold, not enough salt, Then he will demand that I touch him again to make him happy. I am a slave here, there is no escape" Roger sat silently. Then he spoke again "I'll sort it out, you can stay in my room tonight, then tomorrow we'll get you on the coach." She stood. "I'll hide in your room now, it is quiet and there is no-one to see." They walked through the lobby and up to the room again. When the door was closed Justine kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed, arms outstretched and looking at the ceiling. "Thank you, I feel safe with you." She paused. "These are my only clothes now, I must look after them." She sat up and with swift movements stripped off the blouse and skirt before lying back down, suddenly naked; there was no sign of any underwear. Her luxuriant bush of dark pubic hair contrasted with her alabaster skin with her full breasts still managing to point their nipples skyward. Her legs were parted revealing glimpses of her labia and her arms were outspread, showing dark curls of hair underneath. Roger looked at her. "Is that all you're wearing? It will be a long journey." "I'll manage, I only have worn-out underclothes and uniform, it is all the boss will give me. I don't wish to take anything that he has provided. I would die first." "So you want to live in England? There will be differences." "Such as?" "It is usual and fashionable for women to remove the hair under their arms, for a start." Roger smiled. "Do you have a passport, otherwise you'll have to be smuggled across." "I will be English lady. I have no passport but I can take away the hair." Justine jumped to her feet and strode to the bathroom. Roger followed her to the doorway as she picked up his razor from the sink. She started to scrape away under her armpits and Roger stopped her. He showed her how to lather up shaving foam and shave smoothly without cutting herself. When she was done she put her arms around his neck and kissed. Resting her head on his chest, she sighed. "Please make it happen, I want to come with you to England. I cannot stay two more nights here." He led her back to the bed and lay her down, covering her nakedness with the sheet. However when she moved slightly the sheet fell down, showing her breasts once more. She was entirely unconcerned at the exposure so he sat beside her and gently stroked the soft flesh as the nipple rose to his touch. Eventually she closed her eyes at the soothing movement and then he realised that she was asleep. He continued with the caresses, enjoying the feel of her warm skin until his arm tired. When he stilled however, she woke immediately. "What happened?" "Nothing," he relied. "But it's getting late, dinner will be served downstairs and if I don't appear they might send a search party." "You must go," she sighed. "If you can bring back a piece of fruit for me that will be good." She moved the sheet away from her body and then took his hand, placing it in the soft hairy curls below her belly. "Make sure that you are ready for me when you return," she murmured. * * * Roger entered the room silently and watched her for a moment. Justine was sleeping under the thin sheet, the outline of her body clearly visible and her ribs rising and falling with every breath. He undressed and went to the bathroom for a shower, when he returned with a towel wrapped around his waist she was leaning on her side watching him. He combed his damp hair and sat next to her, reaching for the banana that he had brought. She took the fruit and with a salacious smile slid it gently between her labia, spreading her thighs widely. She positioned herself so that he had a clear view, then inserted the tip just a fraction into her opening. Then she stopped, teasing him. She stripped back the peel and ate it hungrily, throwing the waste into the bin before lying back down. Roger started to idly comb her pubic hair so that it was fluffed up and glossy. When he found a small tangle in the hair deep between her legs she winced at the tug, then he gently managed to free the curls. She removed his towel from his waist and fondled his testicles with a feather-light touch until he felt ready to burst. She pulled back the skin of his cock to reveal his glans, then held him steady. "What are the plans for tomorrow?" "I called a meeting with the boys downstairs, we've got it all covered. They're all well up for a job, it'll be like the old times. We'll get you onto the coach, the driver is all part of it and we'll get you across the channel without any problem. You'll never see the mayor again." "That is good news, I will be happy again wherever we go." She stroked his cock and placed his hand to cup her pussy. When she had spread her legs comfortably, she took his middle finger and pressed it into her vagina so that he slid into her deeply. She sighed and wriggled her hips against his touch, then by reaching behind herself she adjusted his other fingers into the cleft between her buttocks. He could feel the muscular ridges of her other opening and she did not object when he commenced to move against it. They kissed passionately and at length until she pulled him close and replaced his hand with his cock. They made love gently for a while, then she twisted around for him to enter from behind, and he could see her pussy lips wrapped around him, stretching around his penis with every thrust. She made sure that his finger was able to enter her most sensitive opening and he was able to feel himself through the membrane separating the two passages. Eventually as she pushed back against him for maximum penetration, he came and expelled himself deeply inside her body. He softened quickly and withdrew. Exhausted by his exertions, Roger slumped back and shortly fell asleep as she knelt, watching his peaceful face. * * * When he woke, it was dark and he was alone. He patted the mattress around him but could not feel her presence. After a long wait, he heard the door open gently and then her body was next to him once more, strangely chilled to his touch. They embraced and slept in each others arms. * * * In the morning Roger awoke again with the sun streaming through the thin curtains. They both showered, soaping each other's crevices. Later, he left for breakfast, returning with a toast and marmalade sandwich concealed inside his shirt for her. He packed his small suitcase while she dressed in her meagre outfit and quietly they left the room. She found that a group of men were waiting to surround her as she left the premises and she was able to board the coach which waited directly outside. Soon the party was all aboard and they departed, on a long journey to a ferry-port. There was a space concealed under the floor, which held a bed for a spare driver where she was able to hide during brief customs and immigration checks. The Airman and the Farm-Girl Ch. 02 By the time night had fallen, they had arrived in a small village in the English countryside and Justine was being introduced to a small but comfortable apartment attached to the general store. They settled down on the soft furniture to relax and watch the news on the television. There was a brief item at the end of the program, about a man in a faraway European country who had been found dead, killed by being tied down and having his genitals boiled in heavily salted soup. His wife and family were distraught, the local police were puzzled. Justine removed her blouse and skirt but left her high heeled shoes on, as she led Roger to bed. * * * Several months later Justine presented Roger with a beautiful baby boy. They both doted on their son, whom they named Bray. The Airman and the Farm-Girl As the vehicle trundled away along the lane, he saw the two women being led away crying by Gestapo agents. As she was blind-folded, the girl rubbed her belly. Amongst the trees on the hillside a neighbour hid and watched silently.