Don't Sleep on the Subway Book Three - Cover

Don't Sleep on the Subway Book Three

Copyright© 2019 by RWMoranUSMCRet

Chapter 1

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This third and final book of the trilogy is set in the European Theater of World War Two and it covered the period of 1939 to 1945. Our Time traveling hero is hard at work trying to smooth the rough edges of history without creating a conundrum and he is seeing the reality of history without any bias from opinionated so called experts of the period.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Military   War   Science Fiction   Time Travel   Exhibitionism   Safe Sex   Voyeurism   Violence  

“To some Germans and, no doubt, to most foreigners it appeared that a charlatan had come to power in Berlin. To the majority of Germans Hitler had – or would shortly assume – the aura of a truly charismatic leader. They were to follow him blindly, as if he possessed a divine judgement, for the next twelve tempestuous years.”

William L. Shirer, the Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, a History of Nazi Germany

It had been my fond hope that I would make my next trip into the past to visit the era of World War Two in the Pacific War against the Japanese Empire. I was entirely interested in that particular era and the Pacific Theater of Operations was much better known to me than the battlegrounds of Europe.

A couple of bullet holes from the last trip were still bothering me enough to preclude me from resuming my painting and wall-papering sidelines that had proven so lucrative in the past. I usually was able to make numerous patterns available to prospective clients from the free books that were left willy-nilly on job sites like cast-away diamonds in the rough for a guy like me to turn to valuable gems. I had an in with a discount broker that could match me up with almost any selection at a fraction of the MSRP (Manufacturers Suggested Retail Price) and that difference was usually more than the profit I made from the job itself. I knew all the tricks of turning two or three gallons of almost any shade paint into a five gallon can that could still do the trick with only one coat. I hated doing jobs that required two or more coats because it slowed me down considerably and I had to explain to the client why the price had to be increased because of his or her selection of a less than optimum covering.

My tools had all belonged to my married brother that was now working over in New Jersey on the Turnpike raking in the big bucks collecting fares from the drivers. I was being sarcastic because the pay was shit and he only stuck with the job because it had State employee benefits and paid all costs of health care for his offspring at a time when the cost of medical assistance was going through the roof.

I took a job with the “Daily News” because I liked the paper and I liked the tongue in cheek attitude of a lot of their news reporting that didn’t give a shit if they offended someone or not. Most of the full time reporters were old school and they didn’t have any jerks just making up stuff to sell newspapers. They had me doing obituaries at first and then I graduated to the sports section. I loved the sports section because it was almost like I should be paying them for going to the games and talking to the baseball players and the hockey players about the nuances of the game.

It was almost a full year from my return from the period of the American Revolution and I was still astonished that I was on a slow reversal of aging process that left me years younger biologically and with an itch for sexual relations that reminded me of my college years and my shameful attitude of proprietary hedonism for all females.

I had just crossed over the George Washington Bridge when I noticed that there was a slight wobble in my steering wheel. Considering the density of the traffic, that was not a good omen and I pulled over into a large mall area that had a huge tire-changing, car repair rip-off operation just waiting like a spider for me to fall into the web of squeezing me dry to put me back on the road.

Some silly broad with a lop-sided smile tried to explain to me the enormity of the problem and I just shook my head in disbelief because she was obviously following the company policy of getting me to purchase repairs that were doubtful at best.

The bottom-line quote was high but not overly unreasonable and I left the car there to check on my messages and catch a film that seemed interesting from the billboards on the wall. It was about World War Two in Europe and I always liked the German uniforms and the good-looking broads that they usually had running around in short skirts doing a “Zeig Heil” with their super-sized boobs swinging like a trapeze in a hurricane force wind.

I got a box of pop-corn (no butter) and a diet Coke and watched the Panzers making a huge racket as they knocked off the inferior British and French tanks with poor excuses for a main armament gun and with deadly poor results against a German tanks with lower shapes, better main guns, and thicker armor where you really wanted it to be.

The popcorn was only half finished when I dozed off and found myself drifting in that strange no-man’s land that was filled with danger at every step. I was certain the ground underfoot was mined and I would be blown to kingdom come at the very next step.

Since I really had no choice in the matter, I threw all caution to the wind and moved out of the deep grass into a plowed field and a little hard dirt road that led straight to a neat house and barn straight ahead.

I could hear a couple of dogs growling in the distance but they appeared to be tied up and there was no danger from that quarter. A well-lit window right in front of me showed a pair of healthy young females with interesting upper body development mixing something on the table just out of sight.

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