A Friend

A friend Capt feg It was the last year of the war. John had been away for 11 months. I was missing him terribly. One day his good friend from the regiment, Richard, visited. He brought letters and a parcel from John. Without knowing its contents I excitedly ripped it open in front of him - this stranger. To my embarrassment silk underwear fell out - bra, nickers and stockings - as a 19 year old, familiar only to war shortages, they were totally unknown luxuries. Even on my hands, their cool, smooth sensuality caught my breath. A brief note in the parcel explained that John had been bileted with an American unit, who had access to such items and used them as bribes to secure the sexual favours of young women as they liberated Europe. The articles in my hands had cost him a months supply of cigarettes - he hoped that I appreciated the sacrifice, and he looked forward to my repaying the sacrifice to him. The thought of being called on to redeem his sacrifice struck deep - mind, heart and body. I had very little experience of sex. I had only really experienced penetrative sex twice. Both with John on the night before he returned to the front. Now my heart pounded, I felt hot and moist, my mind filled with pictures of sex. Richard had been sitting patiently, an uncomfortable stranger. He nervously cleared his throat and asked if I minded if he smoked. Confused, I apologised for my neglect and offered him tea. In polite conversation I found out that he had lost his family in the blitz. He had nowhere to go. In the spirit of the times I asked if he would like to stay the night. Travel and accommodation were difficult. And my parents would be back by mid-evening. Besides I felt safe with a friend of Johns. We spent a couple of hours in small talk, during which I found out something of the activities of their Regiment. Talk of John made me think of our last night together. Eventually, having excused myself to freshen up I found myself in my bedroom, looking whistfully at my new silk underwear. Feeling naughty I decided to wear the stuff. I quickly slipped out of my everyday cotton drawers and brassiere and pulled on the cool silk, item by item. The unfamilar material seemed to caress my skin. I felt my nipples harden as the brassiere cupped and squeezed them. Between my legs the cool sensation encouraged my lips to open and receive the caress. My heart rate increased, and I felt flushed with excitement. I decided to keep the silk underwear on and walk about with it under my clothes. Each step I took, every movement I made, it seemed to carress me, exciting me more. Downstairs again Richard and I were running out of conversation. Finding it hard to entertain a stranger I asked if he were any good at jigsaws (a common activity in pre-TV days). I had a large, 10,000 piece puzzle that I had been slowly putting together for weeks. It was laid out on the table in the front room. For the next hour we pored over the puzzle. We shared the little joys and triumphs of finding pieces, and moved around each other as we placed the pieces. We touched accidently a few times, but I thought nothing of it. Eventually Richard sat back to rest and smoke a cigarette. I was kneeling on my chair next to him, concentrating on the pieces. Richards hand rested on my ankle. I thought little of it and concentrated on the jigsaw. Moments later I realised that his hand was now carressing the silk of my stocking over the back of my calf and under the hem of my skirt. up to the back of my knee. I found my love of John being sorely tested by the warm, smooth caress of this stranger. Confused, I pretended to continue to focus on the puzzle. In truth my mind was filled with the sensations that the warm and sensuous hand was generating as it languidly stroked fractionally higher up my leg with each circling caress. My body, prepared by the previous hours of the strange, whisper cool smoothness of my silk underwear, was ripe for his attention. I kept myself leaning over the jigsaw, wishing his hand higher and higher. Each stroke was an eternity. Finally, with his hand now well up my skirt his fingers found the flesh above my stocking tops. It was a touch that shook us both. My legs involuntarily parted, as I shifted my weight from knee to knee. Richard's hand began to shake as it now explored the flesh of my inner thigh. Higher, higher, higher, each stroke reached closer to my hole. I willed his finger to it. Finally, as I was about to sob with frustration, a finger brushed my lips. It made a single sweep, front to back, then withdrew. Confused, I still stared blankly at the jigsaw pieces on the table in front of me. I heard a rustle. Then a cold draught on my thighs as my skirt was lifted over my back. I held my breath. My knickers were pulled to one side. I felt a lump - the tip of his penis at the entrance to my hole. It paused there. Seconds dragged on as it rested, as if asking for permission to enter. I could not think. Images swirled through my mind - John, pregnancy, gave me sweet dread. The urge to couple with this stranger over-rode my fears. Taking my lack of response as aquiescence the penis slowly and deliberately penetrated me. It shafted me in a similar manner. I counted each stroke, from resting tip on my lips to nudging the door of my womb, deep inside my belly. Strong hands under my skirt, wrapped around my thighs pulled me onto the penis at each stroke. Seventeen . . . . eighteen . . . . nineteen . . . . twenty . . . . My mind counted. Each stroke brought a question - was this the last stroke before he came? How long before my hole filled with his sperm? My mind jolted. We had no contraception. "Please . . . . please don't come in me . . . ." I managed to gasp. I was on the verge of a climax. I had not experienced this before. The power of it wiped all else from my mind. I fell limp, shuddering and moaning as I marvelled at the sensations which swept me. I was dimly aware of his hands pulling me hard onto him, fingers digging into my tender thighs. The flesh in me stopped at the deepest part of me. Spasm . . . spasm . . . spasm . . . I realised that he was ejaculating in me. It was too much. I collapsed foward onto the jigsaw, pieces cascading off the table. My body shook with my orgasm. The walls of my hole pulsing and contracting, milking the load from his penis, sucking the sperm into me. I sobbed as my hole worked blindly to impregnate me, as my mind screamed against that fate. He leaned heavily against me for several moments breathing heavily as he spasmed. Pushing me down onto the table further he withdrew. I heard him leave the room. I did not move. The sensations seemed to be paraysing me - my stretched hole, the heavy weight of his semen in me, fizzing with life. A globule that felt the size of a lake oozed from my lips. I reached my finger between my legs and collected it. Bringing it to my face I examined it closely. Creamy white. Curiosity overcame me. I put it on my tongue. The taste revolted me. It jolted me from my thoughts as I heard the front door slam shut. He had left. I never saw him again. I never saw John again either. When I found I was pregnant I felt that I could not face him. I sent him a "Dear John" letter to which he did not reply. I wondered what his friend Richard had told him of me. 12347 1.60/512345