Rated: GC · Short Story · Erotica · #1666142
Two strangers are forced to spend a dark night together.
It was the evening of the 29th of Dec, 1940. Amanda Hagen rocked in her chair at her favorite spot beside the fireplace reminiscing about happier days when the house reverberated with the babble of her nephews and the chattering of her maids. Slowly, all of them had left for the shelter of the tube stations. She refused to go, preferring to stay alone at her family's ancestral house as if her diminutive presence would hold the Luftwaffes at bay.
Her head drooped with drowsiness when it happened; the loudest blast she had heard ever since the Blitz had commenced. Her last memories before she passed out was of the sound of shattering glass and the sickening thud with which she hit a slab of concrete.
His distant resonant voice cleared the mist that warped her consciousness. “Miss! Can you hear me?” As her senses recovered, she became aware of a throbbing pain in her head. I should have heeded their warnings, she rued, remembering her family's warning to remain confined as much as possible to the Anderson shelter in the backyard.
“Thank God, you've come around!” he exclaimed, when she let out a sigh of pain. “I'm Brandon Cartwright from the Home Guard.”
“Can you help me sit up, please,” she requested.
“Sure, Ma'am. Do you live here alone?”
“For the time being, yes.”
“Okay. I was worried if there are others. I'm sorry, Ma'am that your house is badly damaged. We are entering as many of the damaged houses that we can, looking for survivors. I found you unconscious on the floor.”
My father's house destroyed! She sniffled.
“You okay, Ma'am?”
What does he expect me to say? That I feel like dancing?
“Oh, shit!” he groaned when the ominous sirens sounded again.
She found her feeble voice. “There's a shelter at the back. We can reach it through the cellar.”
“Can you find your way in this dark? I'm afraid I dropped my torch on my way in.”
“I think so,” she replied.
He helped her to her feet, but she was unsteady and leaned heavily on his arms. The sirens got closer reminding them of their imminent doom. She ignored her pain and stretching her hands forward to feel any obstacles, stumbled across to the staircase in the corner of the room. He followed her closely and a couple of times their bodies touched. You are nice and warm, she thought.
They descended the staircase and reached the cellar.
“This darkness is blinding,” he said with concern.
Her hands fumbled and grasped his wrist.“Don’t worry. I know the way well. It's my house.”
He gave a start. “You're hands are so cold!”
They reached the Anderson shelter. No sooner did they enter, they heard the muffled but unmistakable sounds of the bombing. The raid had began, but they were safe for the moment.
“Don’t you have any emergency lights inside?”
“No,” she responded.
“Look, it's better we catch some sleep while the Germans are at it,” he said. “Do you have some blankets?”
She found the blankets where the maids had preserved them, inside a makeshift cupboard.
“You should also lie down Miss. Hagen.”
They both lied down.
She heard his breathing and realized that he was on his side, facing away from her.
“I'm feeling cold,” she said with a shiver.
Turning toward her, he touched her face and his warm hand relaxed her.
She felt his arms wrap around her. “Please do not mind, but your body temperature is too low. This is to keep you warm,” he whispered.
She felt better, but still shivered.
“Miss. Hagen, you’ve to allow me to remove your clothes. Believe me, it's to save you.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but didn't protest when his hands groped in the darkness and found the buttons of her blouse. He certainly had experience because it hardly took him any time to remove her blouse and bra. She then felt him unhook her skirt and glide it off the swell of her hips. Her underwear was the next to go.
Pulling the blanket over them, his arms enveloped her again and she was amazed to feel his bare skin.
“Miss. Hagen, the clothes were preventing the transfer of heat from my body. Your body needs my heat.”
She melted in the warmth of his embrace and sweet sensations arose from her naked breasts which were pressed against his hairy chest. His manly scents filled her mind with desire and wiped away all the pain of her physical injuries.
Luxuriating in the comfort of his proximity she nuzzled her nose against his neck and felt his warm breath on her hair. Giving in to her deepest wants she allowed her hands to roam freely over his back and trace the contours of his hip. Exulting when his breathing became labored, her delight turned to ecstasy when she felt his hardness on her belly.
“I'm sorry,” he said with feeling, but not releasing his grip on her.
In response she wrapped her slender hands around his throbbing manhood. Throbbing with life, it permeated her body with exquisite feelings, making her painfully aware of her unquenched femininity.
“Miss. Hagen!” he groaned.
“Call me Amanda, at least tonight,” she pleaded.
“You sure about this Amanda?”
“I was never more sure of anything, Brandon,” she mumbled.
His hungry mouth sought her lips. She opened her mouth to him, allowing their tongues to entwine around each other. His hands now moved over her freely, fondling and squeezing by turn the swell of her breasts and the roundness of her hips. Those touches made her aware of feelings she never knew existed. The minty flavor of his mouth worked liked an aphrodisiac on her mind, transforming the pulsation in her womanhood to an exquisite ache. She caressed his face, ran her fingers through his hair and stroked the hard muscles of his pectorals, creating his image in her mind. She didn't have to see him to sense his strength, vitality and manliness which seeped through every vein in his body.
She was relieved when he finally took charge and rolled her onto her back. She welcomed his weight on her bosom and spread her legs, giving him access to her greatest treasure. She sighed when the head of his manhood traced the length of her slit, before it wedged itself between the puffed lips of her core.
“You're so tight!” he rasped.
She locked her legs around his pelvis and pulled him in. He pushed slowly and her velvety sheath parted to accommodate his rampaging manhood. She knew that her deflowering would hurt, but had no idea that the pain would be so sweet. Every millimeter he moved produced delightful friction in her depths which spread across her body like a warm glow. Finally, his spear was fully embedded within her hungry flesh.
Pausing for awhile he began to pull his hardness out. She panicked when only his tip remained in, worried that he would slip out and bring her pleasurable journey to a premature end. However, he pushed right back again, till he was again buried into her to the hilt. He rocked back and forth stretching and filling her sloppy cavern while his pelvis rotated teasing her nub of joy and touching every nook and corner inside her seat of pleasure. Her explosion, the first of several that night pierced the eerie silence of the shelter which had descended when the bombing had stopped.
He began to pull out. “I’m coming.”
She locked her legs around him even tighter. “Spill it inside me.”
Groaning and grunting, he flooded her wet softness with his copious seed. They made love the whole night, touching and kissing and exploring each other in the darkness, till tired of their exertions they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Her heart sank when he woke her up. “I’ve to leave Amanda.”
“Is it morning already?” she asked incredulously.
He laughed. “Yes. You don’t realize because it’s pitch dark in here.”
“So now what?” she asked.
“Where did you say your family was? I take you to them.”
She led him out of the shelter, through the cellar and up the stairs.
“Daylight!” he exclaimed and the very next moment gasped with bewilderment.
“So now you know I'm blind,” she rued.
“You’re also beautiful!” he said gazing at her flawless milky skin and raven black hair. “Now I know how you knew your way so well in the dark!”
“You've to look for my walking stick. It would be lying here somewhere,” she said when he finally released her.
He took her hand. "May I?"
“You want to be my walking stick!” she said with a hollow laugh.
“I would love to."
She smiled. It was the beginning of a tender love story.
Brandon Cartwright and Amanda Hagen survived the Blitz. They married, raised children and lived happily ever after.
Word Count: 1496