Path: not-for-mail
X-Trace-PostClient-IP: 70.70.70.129
From: sexstoryfan <verybestsxpx@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.stories.erotic
Subject: Great Erotic Story - Dream!
Message-ID: <r41fn09la3vj4ie4g6168f7ucfhglqu0jb@4ax.com>
X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.8/32.548
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Lines: 267
Date: Thu, 21 Oct 2004 09:40:02 +0000
NNTP-Posting-Host: 64.59.144.75
X-Complaints-To: abuse@shaw.ca
X-Trace: pd7tw1no 1098351602 64.59.144.75 (Thu, 21 Oct 2004 03:40:02 MDT)
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 21 Oct 2004 03:40:02 MDT
Organization: Shaw Residential Internet
===================
Do you like to read about sex? Get over 10,000 stories now by going
to
http://www.asexstoryforyou.com
Dream
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!
Would you like to read the other 5 parts of this story? Get them now
at
http://www.asexstoryforyou.com