Liverpool, April 1942…
Walking across the gangplank in his no. 1 uniform, Lieutenant Peter ‘Butty’ Buttress R.N. could not hide the smile growing across his otherwise set features. He looked drawn and haggard - the bags beneath his eyes betraying the sleepless nights he’d spent on watch, or listening for the echo of U boats. No matter how he felt though, he was determined to put his 48-hour pass to good use.
The destroyer, HMS Dionysus - of which he was second in command, had just returned from another convoy escort mission. Although they hadn’t sunk a U boat on this trip, the ship had already claimed three - two since Peter was made responsible to tracking and killing them, back in the Summer of 1941. They were heroes, though the public didn’t know it. Hitler had loosed his ‘wolfpack’ of U boats on Britain’s Atlantic convoys. Without the food that these convoys from North America carried, Great Britain would starve with two months. Then, she would forced to make an insidious peace. ‘Never mind the flash pilots, and lazy bastards in the army’, Peter thought, ‘it was sailors like him who were keeping Britain in this fight!’
Saluting a sentry as he left the docks complex, Peter was bound for the naval hospital, and his lover…
Peter was a married man, so you would expect him to spend the 48-hours of freedom in the arms of his wife. But his ship was based out of Liverpool, whilst his wife worked on the east coast, caring for her parents there too. The train journey, across the breadth of England, would leave him with no time… and she could never obtain leave to join him.
Brooding as he walked, Peter reflected that theirs was a complex war-time marriage. There were no children and what she was doing from day to day, Peter didn’t really know. They corresponded, and besides domestic trivia she’d made reference to some American aircrew stationed close by. Apparently, they were always throwing dances and parties - supplying the local women with cigarettes, chocolate and… but Peter stopped himself. He’d thought to end that piece of alliteration with another word beginning with the letter ‘c’, but thought the better of it.
Not that he was jealous or resentful. Like him, the yanks were risking life and limb to defend Britain. Why shouldn’t a British woman thank them by offering her sex?… Especially when it might be their last taste! If the fruit in question was ordinarily forbidden, no matter… it was wartime. This wasn’t just bartering with sexual favours, but he supposed it was enormously fun and exciting for the women too. He just hoped his wife’s nylon stockings were worth it!…
This cloud which had descended upon him had been poised to break into a thunderous storm, but then it was blown away by a prevailing south westerly! His own sexual bliss, was at hand!…
A fine figured QARNN (naval nurse), with a bosom to die for, had stepped out of the hospital door. Her face alighted when she saw him and beckoned him to follow her… He knew she was leading him back to her digs… to a night of endless, frenzied sex!…
For her part, Clara knew that ‘Butty’ was using her. She knew enough of his story to know what she was doing was wrong on some level, but didn’t care. She had children of her own too, but their Father was fighting who knows where.
For her part, she longed for sexual fulfilment. After all, she worked tirelessly caring for the wounded, half-drowned sailors. When she wasn’t working, she was caring for her children. She needed a release. Didn’t she deserve one?
There were no American GIs to be had in Liverpool, only the Jack Tars who once every couple of weeks came into provision and refuel. More dead than alive, these sailors too were sexually frustrated. How they had started talking, Clara couldn’t remember … in a pub? She could only remember how forward he had been… saying that he desired her… wanted to devour her… and longed to discharge his gun deep inside her!…
That first time, she had been a little drunk! Not from the drink, but from lust… she had been swept away by his broad and energetic tongue… how he had conjured with words carnal visions of entwined limbs and sexual ecstasy in her minds eye.
He hadn’t bothered to take her anywhere, but the side alley behind the pub. First throwing her against the wall, he had torn open her blouse. Taken a little aback, she had made to resist him, but he’d grabbed her wrists and smothered her mouth with his.
He’d then launched two simultaneous attacks. His left hand had pulled open her blouse, exposing her breasts. Unable to resist these voluptuous fruit, his mouth had dropped to them, engulfing each in turn. His tongue drawing over the nipple, before making swirling motions around the circumference of her areola, as her nipples grew erect!
His other hand had lunged beneath her uniforms hem, and pulling it up had groped at the space between her legs…
Slipping beneath the waistband of her lingerie,
first his fingers had rubbed over her mons pubis, before dropping down to her passion…
She had tried to push him off, her hands braced against him and a knee keeping his crotch at a distance, but he’d grabbed was too skilled!…
He’d ran a finger over her clit!… it was her buzzer button of pleasure and the pressure of the circles he was making around it, made her utter a muted groan!…
He heard it, and took this as the signal to creep further down and slip first one, then two fingers, between her hot lips and into the sticky wetness that lies within!..
…He heard it, and took this as the signal to creep further down and slip first one, then two fingers, between her hot lips and into the sticky wetness that lies within!..
Making a come hither motion with his fingers, Peter expertly brushed her inside. Despite herself, Clara had never felt so alive. Within minutes of this attention to her most intimate parts, she was gushing with excitement!…
Again, taking this as a cue, Clara felt Peter’s arms enclose her. Awaking from the moment of ecstasy with alarm, she again tried to push against him… signalling her resistance in the hope that he might see this and stop. But no… Peter had been denied a woman’s company for too long… he was being driven by emotions he didn’t truly understand… he just wanted to possess Clara, totally!…
Lifting her up, he dumped her on a pile of packing cases, leaving her laid back, propped against a corner of the alley brick work. He hiked up the hem of her uniform dress… exposing her stockings and ruffled knickers. Tearing at them, the knickers were hauled down and out… belong left around Clara’s left ankle. The garters going with them, her stockings were pulled to her knees, leaving the pale bare flesh of her inner thighs and mound exposed!…
Already transfixed by the pale flesh now revealed, Peter had caught the aroma of Clara’s sex and now entirely gave himself to the carnal animal which resided within him…
His uniform jacket was tossed to the ground. Tearing at his belt buckle he let his trousers drop. From the sight of his rigid flag pole now revealed, Clara knew he was ready to salute her!…
She had no time to repel boarders… placing both hands on her haunches, he pulled her bottom towards his lunging crotch. Smothering all resistance, his mouth had covered hers.. his tongue 👅 forcibly penetrating her lips and entering her succulent mouth 👄
A foretaste of what was to come, Clara thought to herself, as Peter pulled back slightly and the both glanced down to where his appendage now struck her opening…
She was no virgin girl… Clara was a mother… and Peter’s head was broad and glistening!…
Pushing forwards, he cleaved her open… her lips parting. There was no resistance. She was still slick with the excitement of his earlier attentions.
She let out a little gasp with this and closed her eyes. The feeling of a new man, a stranger, penetrating her for the first time was electrifying!
But he didn’t slide his length inside her slowly and gently. This was animalistic and he wanted to take her quickly… selfishly concerned with seeking his own release now!…
He slammed himself inside her, repeatedly. Like a pneumatic drill, his movements were vigorous and frenzied!… But good too!…
Clara could feel the friction of his swollen penis, the ridges of those blue veins rubbing against her interior walls. It was lighting a fire inside her… one growing with each new lunge!…
But it was then that she realised… he wasn’t wearing a Johnnie!…
She placed a hand against his chest, bracing against him and cried “you need to stop and wear something!…”
Peter ignored her. He brushed her hand away and licking his thumb and forefinger, pinch and rubbed Clara’s already used and sore nipples. This elicited a moan from her… she couldn’t help herself… but she tried again. “you can’t cum inside me!”
Clara could feel Peter begin to swell inside her… his thrusts were more deliberate, harder now!…
His hands had reached behind her, to herself bottom, and grasping handfuls of both cheeks he was pulling her onto him.
She too wanted to feel as much of him inside her as possible, and contrary to the feeble protests she was still muttering to herself, she had hooked the ankles of her spread legs behind his thighs, so her spurs were against his warm bottom!…
Clara needed relief for the searing heat she felt growing inside her.
Peter did not long delay… With several slams against her, the hardest yet, and successive jerks, she could feel him explode inside her… flooding her with the very best of himself!
His continued but slower, almost gentle, thrusting now brought Clara to climax!… she could distinctly feel the spurts against her insides, then the warmth of it fill her.
This triggered her own explosion, with waves of pleasure running through her body… from deep inside her, all the way to her fingers and toes!… her cries were guttural, her nails pressed into the skin of Peter’s back!…
He leant forward again. This time she raised to meet him and their lips locked!…
Her body was his now. Only that, but had claimed and marked her as his own. She would submit to him whenever he asked!…
All this, she recalled as she led him to her digs. But what would happen there? It was for the two of them to discover in person!…
