Vera's Wartime Valentine

She wanted his hand elsewhere. She needed to be touched between the legs and she would give him comfort by allowing the liberty. What was the point in having a courtship that lasted years if no-one would live that long? She stood with her feet apart allowing space there, then took his hand from her breast and placed it firmly and brazenly under her skirt.

His fingers found the elastic at the top of her knickers and worked their way down. She welcomed the contact where no man had touched her before.

She stood on one leg, the other raised in the air to give him even more access. His hand cupped her body, safe and warm with one finger directly against her slit, pressing for entry. She desperately wanted him to enter her and pressed her tongue between his lips to encourage him. She felt his teeth and then his tongue, rolling her tongue around his.

Then suddenly she was taking the tip of his finger inside her body and she was panting with desire. She wanted to hold him, to grip him.

She found the bulge of hard male stiffness inside his uniform and loosened his belt with one hand to allow her hand inside. When she finally managed to touch it, his organ was warm and erect, pressing against his clothing so firmly that she had difficulty in enclosing it with her fingers. With some effort she held his penis, wrapping her hand around and squeezing so that she could feel the strength of his maleness.

Then just as she felt his finger penetrate her entrance, he gasped and the organ throbbed. Her hand was wet, a warm fluid flooding over her fingers.

"I'm sorry," Ken seemed unable to breathe properly. " I'm sorry". He kept on repeating himself as she withdrew her hand and inspected the sticky strands.

In the distance she heard the horn of the bus tooting for the passengers.

"Will you write to me Vera? Promise you'll write to me please?"

She found some paper in her pocket and wiped her hand, then without a further word she turned and dashed for the bus.

~**~

Vera lay in her bed, remembering the contact of the man's hand against her body, the feel of his tongue against hers, the wetness on her hand. The new dawn was breaking and it was time to get up and see to the cattle.

Her head ached from the weak beer and Vera felt as if she hadn't slept at all. She remembered that he had written down his address so she searched for the scrap that he had given her. When she found it in her handbag, it was soggy ball of pulp. With dismay she realised that she had wiped her hand on the precious scrap with Ken's details on. Why hadn't she used some grass or perhaps a dock leaf? Docks were plentiful anywhere there was long grass, useful for calming the sting from nettles or even wiping your rear if caught short in the countryside.

Carefully she teased out the messy ball, laying it flat on the window sill. She left it in the sun to dry whilst she dressed in her hated brown dungarees and yellow blouse. She went for her breakfast and then to work, thinking all the while about her Yank who had travelled halfway around the world to be killed in a foreign war.

That evening she found that the paper had dried out and she could just about read the hurried writing. She folded it flat and kept it safely in her handbag, and wrote a letter to him so that he wouldn't forget their secret encounter in the shadows of the blackout.

~**~

Vera had a reply, even in wartime the postal service was efficient with two deliveries a day. Ken would like to meet her again and might visit her.

So she smartened herself again in anticipation of his visit. He arrived on a borrowed bicycle which he leaned against the brick platform that was built for the milk churns, for when they were to be loaded onto the lorry every evening to be taken to the town railway station for the overnight 'milk train' to the big cities.

Ken stood shyly before her, ashamed about his accident into her hand. However Vera was happy to see her Yankee soldier from Glasgow, Montana again and kissed him, one foot kicked up behind her as she had seen the film stars do. They walked hand in hand to the top of the hill where they sat to look at the distant ocean, as the boom of artillery from the range sounded behind them and shells whistled overhead into the sea.

The same sea that would soon take her soldier to his fate.

They cuddled and then Vera unfastened his belt and his button flies. She took his stiffening cock in her hand and eased him out into the air. It was the first one that she had seen and was a wondrous sight to her. He had been circumcised and the glans was bright purple. She hadn't expected that; she didn't know what she had expected but this thing was full of warmth, life and virility.

He showed her how to hold it gently but firmly and move slowly to a regular rhythm. When she had learned, he took her in his arms so that she lay over him, still moving her hand.

Eventually he stilled the movement and rolled her over onto her back. Slowly his hand slid up her thigh, the loose fabric of her dress falling aside.

Above her, white clouds scudded across the pale blue sky and a speck of an aeroplane traced a thin vapour trail as her legs fell apart.

She raised her hips from the ground and he took the hint to tug her knickers down to her knees, one side at a time. She wanted him to see her, to examine her exposed womanhood. He bent his head and kissed her belly between her tummy button and the patch of coarse hair that concealed so much.

His hand brushed through the thatch, his fingers separating the hairs to show her most intimate folds of flesh. She was moist and ready, but her mind was screaming - all her life her parents had stressed the dangers of pregnancy outside of wedlock. She had been told of the fate of fallen women; floozies and strumpets -- who would never find a man to marry, who would end up on the streets.

She had promised her mother that she would be twenty one when she married, and she had another year to wait yet. Whilst it wasn't unheard of for rushed weddings to be followed by 'premature' babies, to be an unmarried mother was unthinkable.

She pushed his hand away with a start. "I can't. I can't do it. I'm sorry, I mustn't." It was her turn to apologise to him.

Ken was understanding. "I know my dear, we mustn't go all the way. But we can be close during our time together."

Vera was upset, she wanted to have him inside her, to feel that bond that would be achieved by such intimacy.

He returned her hand to the rhythm and she watched as his fluids spurted into the clear air to land on the clean, fresh grass on the hillside.

~**~

The days passed and even more equipment became piled up in corners of fields, woodlands and at the sides of the roads. The rifle range crackled with activity all day long and Ken came to visit Vera whenever he had an evening pass from the camp. The spot on the hillside became their regular place, where they could cuddle in private and touch each other, wishing that they could take things further.

Vera was getting increasingly anxious. Her man may go off to die without ever knowing the body of a woman. It was her duty to see that this did not happen. But the guilt that had been instilled from childhood could not be ignored, nor the fear of the ostracisation that would follow. She spoke to her friends -- in vague non-committal ways about methods that could be used, about how a man could be satisfied.

One evening she had a suggestion. "I want to, you know. I really want to go further," she whispered in his ear as she held him in her hand.

"I know, but it doesn't matter."

"I want to try something. Perhaps there is a way for you to love me without risking a baby." She removed her panties and straddled him. "There's more than one way to skin a cat."

Ken looked up at her. "Huh?"

"I mean, there's more than one way in." She pulled his pants down to his knees and manoeuvred herself forwards, so that he was between her buttocks. He was as stiff as ever, as she aimed him at her rear entrance and sank down.

She was without lubrication there though and although she relaxed her body to accept him, she was stretched beyond her expectations. The pain surprised her and she gasped.

Her desire surpassed the discomfort though and she took him into her. She bit her lip as she rode him but then he took over the driving force, pushing deeper and harder. She paused him, the pain too much for the moment.

As the pain subsided she allowed him to continue, holding her buttocks apart with her hands to widen her opening but when he came she screamed and fell forwards, his cock bursting out of her with fluids still erupting.

Vera lay on the grass, clutching her backside with her hips high in the air. "My God, my God."

He was concerned. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"It felt so dry. I wanted it so much, but it hurt. Oh God it hurt."

He sat still as she stayed with her legs apart and her hips raised, no thought of modesty as her triangle of dark curls glistened in the setting sun.

Slowly she relaxed and took her hand from her bottom. There was a smear of blood on her palm which she wiped on the grass. She stood and stuffed her panties into a pocket before stumbling down the hill back to the farm.

~**~

Vera met her sweetheart again the next day. She was still sore but was content to touch him and to let him touch her. He stroked her pubes gently; her 'thatched cottage', her mother had called it. Her mother had always had an old fashioned way with words.

She enjoyed this and opened her thighs to his pressure. Ken's fingers found her tender spot just above her vagina and she squirmed when she was touched there. Hours later they parted and Ken returned to the camp on his bike.

The next time they met, Ken suggested that they took a ride together. She climbed onto the crossbar and sat sideways clinging onto his neck for support.

He took her to the nearby coast, an area of sand dunes. This part of the country had never been considered a serious invasion threat but there were still coils of barbed wire lain over the coarse marram grass that grew up through the sand to form the dunes themselves. There were tracks where squads of soldiers ran endlessly up and down the energy-sapping hills but it was quiet today.

They hid the bike from any casual thieves and walked between the lines of defences, stopping eventually in a secluded gully.

They lay together on a grassy patch, from where they could only see distant dark clouds gathering in the sky, removing their underwear and touching each other in their private places that they had become used to. This time however Vera had a surprise for him. From her handbag she produced a piece of greaseproof paper which she unfolded to reveal a small precious knob of butter.

"Butter me up, Ken." She whispered to him. She turned and knelt over, her bottom spread wide open to show him both of her entrances. He spread it between her labia and over her clitoris. She sighed with pleasure but pushed his finger further down to her anus. Soon she was greased there and with the lubrication his finger was slipping in and out of the opening.

"Do it again, Ken. Do it like you did before."

Ken knelt behind her and eased his erection against her rear opening, her 'tradesmen's entrance'. She relaxed and it invited him in, smoothly and easily. Much more easily than previously.

She turned and smiled. "That's it, make love to me that way."

He entered her further, the grease making the penetration less painful but allowing her to feel his body inside her.

He thrusted powerfully and she felt herself underneath, touching her own clitoris as she enjoyed the sensation of being stretched and filled.

Now she worked herself to a frenzy as he pounded from behind, holding onto her womanly hips and watching her buttocks tremble with the impacts.

She gasped with pleasure as he came, emptying himself into her just as she had desired for such a long time. The force of his final strokes sent her over the edge and she wailed as she came with him.

Vera remained kneeling, allowed him to slump over her back while he recovered. As he softened he withdrew and she clenched her anus to retain his emissions. When they had both caught their breath they lay on the grass and Ken admired the naked ass on display for him as a trickle of white fluid escaped seductively.

He stroked the pale flesh gently, then reached over to a clump of the marram grass. He plucked out a bunch of long stems of flowering heads and carefully inserted it into the anus which was still presented so invitingly. The plumes of vegetation swayed in the light wind, but she wiggled her hips to make it shake violently.

They both giggled at the rudeness as they lay together under the threatening rainclouds.

Her skirt fell down to protect her modesty as she stood. The stems hung down behind her and wiggled as she walked. They laughed again.

Vera pulled the grasses from herself and threw the stems like darts over the top of the dune and out of sight. She picked up her knickers and pressed them into his hand. "I want you to keep these, as your lucky charm for when things start to happen."

They walked back to the bike. Ken looked at her, "Are you sure, you know, do you need your panties on?"

She smiled. "Let's see."

She sat astride the thin bar, one leg dangling. Before he set off she took his hand and pressed it underneath her skirt to feel her naked flesh open for him. Then she kissed his finger tips that held her aroma and replaced his hand on the handlebar.

He took her back through the lanes, swooping around the corners as she held him tightly around his waist. The wind blew her dress up. To start with she tried to push it back down but then with reckless abandonment she allowed it to flap behind her. Her legs were so long that her knees were high and wide and she could feel the draught on her pussy and on her slightly sore backside.

This was very erotic, she decided. No-one could see; there wasn't anyone around to look, but she felt exposed as the fresh breeze swirled about her nether regions.

Almost immediately though it started to rain. The wetness was the most refreshing thing and by the time they were back at the farm Vera was soaked. Her hair was slicked back and her thin dress was transparent and clinging to her body, showing her brassiere and the shape of her hips. She didn't care; she wore the expression of a freshly fucked fox and was in love.

~**~

The next day the gunnery range was eerily quiet as she brought the cows to the milking parlour. As soon as the animals had been fed the farmer called all the girls in to the kitchen where the wireless set was switched on.

The BBC was broadcasting an announcement that allied forces had crossed the Channel towards France. The invasion had finally begun; Vera was alarmed. How long before Ken was moved out?

She made her way to the top fields, from where she had a good view of the surroundings. In the distance she could hear the rumble of engines but the vehicles stashed under the trees had vanished. All the Americans had gone off to war.

Two days later she received a letter from her lover. He was with his unit but he couldn't say where. She went to her room and cried. In her bag she found a tissue with which to dry her eyes, but then she noticed some writing on it.

She wouldn't destroy that scrap of crusty paper. It was precious so she dabbed it to her nose and inhaled its scent before carefully replacing it.

~**~

Weeks and then months passed. The vacated camp now had new occupants; German prisoners of war, from the occupied area of France. They were supervised by a mixture of soldiers and the Home Guard -- a rag-tag force made up of ageing ex-soldiers and teenagers waiting to be called up.

One day Vera walked into town to see what she could buy with hardly any money. She had some coupons saved up for the rationing and she had time to join the inevitable queues at the shops, which were as much social gatherings as efforts to actually purchase things.

This town had escaped the damage of other places and people still used shops instead of piling their goods on wooden boards in bombed out lots with chalk-boards advertising their presence. It was one of the reasons for the 'Admiralty' being built there; the location was almost out of range of the bombers. As soon as the Germans found the place they were forced to turn around.

As Vera neared the town centre she took a short-cut along a footpath away from the road. She saw a man who she recognised one of the Home Guard men. He wasn't wearing uniform today; he was on his days off from his regular day-work in the town power station, which was a reserved occupation so he couldn't be called up into the regular forces.

He was known as a 'Spiv', a 'Profiteer'. He always had stuff for sale, things that were unobtainable elsewhere. He could get cans of petrol, sugar, cigarettes; just about anything if you could afford the price. Apparently he had once offered a banana for sale but no-one that Vera knew had the money even to think about it. It was wise not to enquire where his goods came from, say nothing and plead ignorance was the order of the day.

"Afternoon love," he called to her. "Do you fancy some stockings, show your boyfriend a good time?" He opened up his jacket to reveal a paper bag with some nylons visible.

Vera shook her head; even being seen in possession of such things would mark her out as a good-time girl.

"Come on, haven't you got a boyfriend?" The man leered at her, "A good looking girl like yourself? All these lonely soldiers on leave, wanting a bit of loving? You should be ashamed of yourself, not doing your bit - letting the boys down."

Suddenly he was onto her. "I'll show you what to do, how to make a good soldier happy." His rough bristly chin was against her face and an arm was around her waist stopping her from pulling away. He had been drinking and stank of beer.

Vera remained calm. She reached down and caught him between the legs, grabbing a handful of material and soft flesh.

Squeezing and lifting, she exerted the full force of her well-developed biceps.

The man didn't squeal and fall over as she had imagined. He brushed down viciously with his free hand and broke her grip loose. Then he was panting and reaching for her neck, fingers outstretched.

As the fingers closed, she put her own hands up and caught his wrist to stop him. She was unable to push the hand away, but with a reversal of effort she tugged sharply on the arm, dragging the man forwards and off balance towards her.

Then she dodged him and twisted around so that he fell onto the floor with his own momentum. Suddenly she was the one with the advantage and his arm was twisted over her knee as he broke his fall with his other hand. By a total fluke he was now immobilised and she was sitting on his back, still holding and twisting his wrist.

She bent the arm over her knee, forcing his shoulder joint apart. He gasped with pain and stopped struggling, submitting to her position of strength.

Vera paused. Her heart was racing but she had no idea what to do next; the path was deserted and no-one else was about to take charge of this situation that she found herself in.

She saw that her woollen stockings had sagged in the struggle and were drooping around her knees. Her bare thighs were visible with her knees wide apart -- it was not a very dignified position to be in. However she was flushed with success, her easy victory over this weak man. Suddenly she was horny, filled with desire. If only her Ken were there to satisfy her.

The man seemed to be wiping tears of pain and humiliation away with his free hand, although as he was facing into the ground she couldn't be sure.

There was one thing that she could do. She reached for that free hand and brought it back, making sure that she kept the other arm securely around her knee. With some manoeuvring she shuffled her body closer to his arm.