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A Soldier’s Story

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WWII was a great time! I know that’s a horrible thing to say, but for me it really was. You see I was a typist and never had to shoot a gun after basic training. The year was 1943 and I was a 18 year old clerk stationed in good ol’ London.

I was billeted with Mrs Shaw, who asked me to call her ‘Gwen’. She would call me ‘Yank’ but always in a sweet way. There was just the two of us in her home as her husband, Harry, was serving in Africa. She always treated me grand and I would bring home extra rations to help her out during those tough times.

I was assigned to a department that was trying crack down on the rampant black-market racketeering which was thriving over here. I worked in the evidence room documenting and storing the confiscated merchandise, it was boring but it was better than being in a fox-hole somewhere.

In March of that year they busted a guy selling silk stockings. I had to count them in and itemize them, in triplicate of course. There were 101 pairs. I decided to slip one pair in my tunic for Mrs Shaw as a treat, that would make the count a nice even 100!

When I came back to the ‘digs’ Gwen had taken a bath after doing her ‘war-work’ and she was in her dressing gown and slippers. She had my tea (dinner to us Yanks) cooking on the stove. I swear she must think I am a god… she keeps giving me burnt offerings!

She screamed with delight when I gave the pair of stockings to her and as soon as she finished her meal, she dashed up stairs with them.

I stayed and tried to choke down the food. I think we were having horse meat that night!

Five minutes later she came into the kitchen wearing her best shoes and frock. I had to admit she was a smart looking woman. She stood in front of me and lifted the hem of her skirt up to her knickers showing me her new stockings, which were perfectly clipped to her suspender belt.

“How do they look Yank?” she asked. “Ooooh! you should see your face!” She teased.

I told her she looked great and with that she went out the door to go to the pub and meet the ‘girls’, güvenilir bahis still chuckling at the effect her legs had on me.

The ‘girls’ were the women she worked with at the factory, making small parts that would no doubt end the war someday.

When she came home I was in bed reading. She knocked on my door and came in. She was a little tipsy.

“Hey Yank! Can you get some more pairs of stockings for the girls? We’ll pay you for them.” she asked, standing in the doorway.

I told her it was too risky and I could get in serious trouble if caught.

“That is a shame ‘cus the girls legs would look great in these.” She said as she lifted her skirt and showed me her silk clad legs again.

Her stocking-ed thighs aroused my penis instantly. She noticed it pushing against the flimsy covers these Brits have on their beds. A wicked smile appeared on her face and she came over to me. She knelt-down next to the bed and putting her hand under the covers she reached for my cock.

She was kissing me wetly as she stroked it. My hand went up her skirt up and I ran my fingers up and down her thighs enjoying the feel of her flesh and the stockings.

She pulled the covers off the bed and put her head down by my cock. Her tongue flicked rapidly over it, then she took it deeply into her mouth making loud sucking noises.

My hand slipped into her knickers and found her pussy which had not seen a man in over a year. It was wet and hungrily accepted my fingers.

She was a damn sight better at sucking cock than she was at cooking! She would take it out of her mouth every now and then and give it little kisses from the tip to the balls then slowly lick from my balls back up to the tip. Her enthusiastic sucking of my cock soon paid off and I ejaculated. She took it all in her mouth without pulling away and wiped her lips with her skirt as she got up.

“OK.” I said once my breathing steadied. “I’ll try to get some more for the girls”

“Thank-you.” She said smiling, “but don’t expect treatment like this again. I promised türkçe bahis ‘arry I would be good.”

“I will be the first one to tell ‘arry how good you are good when I meet him!” I said.

She laughed and went to her room.

The following week some more stockings came in to be locked away and inventoried. I deliberately under-counted 20 pairs and stuffed them in my fatigues when I went home.

Gwen was very pleased when I showed her the haul. She would tell the girls that night. I told her we had to be very careful a bunch of women all coming over at once was not smart. We discussed the price we should sell them for. She said five shillings a pair which I thought was way too high but she said insisted saying if they wanted the goods then they had to pay.

She met the girls at the pub and told them what the deal was. Four of the women had no problem with the cash and it was arranged for them to come over one-at-a-time at about 9 pm over the next four nights.

The next evening, bang on nine, there was a knock on the door and Gwen let in her friend Victoria. She was a stunning woman dressed real classy-like. I had her follow me up to the my bedroom where they were stashed under my bed.

“What size do you wear I?” I asked.

“9 1/2 medium if you have them.” she replied.

I found a pair and gave them to her. She took them out of the package and examined them.

Kicking off her shoes she put the stockings on and clipped them to the white merry-widow she was wearing under her dress. With her shoes back on she stood in front of the full length mirror in my room.

She pulled up her skirt up. I tried to be a gentleman and look away, but I could not. She knew I was watching but did not seem to care. She had her skirt hem up high and examined herself front and back in the mirror.

She asked If I had them in a darker shade? I did and she tried those on too. She bought both pairs and left after she gave me kiss on the cheek and a thank you.

I went downstairs and gave Gwen half of the cash. She refused, güvenilir bahis siteleri but did eventually accept the ‘half a crown’ which was 25% in their crazy ‘limey’ money.

I went to bed and ‘pulled my pud’ as the Brit’s call it wondering what tomorrow at 9 pm would bring.

Lucy came over just before 9.30 pm the following night. She was a chatty girl who had obviously stopped off at the pub for a G&T first. We went up stairs and I gave her a pair of tan hose in the size she requested.

She too put them on but was careful not to make a show of it like Victoria did. I was sitting on the bed feeling a little let down when she came over and stood in front of me.

“Put your hand up my skirt.” she said. “I want to feel what its like to have a man run his fingers over them.”

I put one hand on the outside of each leg. I slowly ran my fingers up her skirt. It was electric.

“You’ve got soft hands – not like my Eric.” she said with her eyes closed tight.

I moved one hand to the inside thigh and kept slowly sliding it up. She did not stop me. She was wearing french knickers which made her pussy available to me when I got to the top.

Falling on me she started kissing me while desperately trying to undo my belt. I was too busy fingering her to help. When my pants were off I turned her over on the bed and rammed my dick in her wetness.

She made so much noise I had to put my hand over her mouth while I fucked her.

I had rubbers in my pants – that’s where they stayed – to hell with what the Army says.

After a while she took my hand away from her mouth and told me to let her know when I was going to come and to pull out before I did. A few minutes later I pulled out and she went down to suck me off but she was too slow!

My cum splashed over her face and lips before her mouth could get around my cock. When I had finished pasting her with my baby batter. I grabbed my G.I. towel and helped wipe her face.

“Thanks I needed that! Not the towel, the fuck.” she giggled.

Gotta love these British women they are something else.

She cleaned up and left after saying goodbye to Gwen.

“I hope you’re not going to fuck all my friends.” Gwen quipped as I gave her her cut of the cash.

“We’ll see.” I said. “We’ll see.”

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