Over the Hills and Faraway; Book 1 : Introductions
Chapter 7

Copyright© 2011 by Jack Green

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Growing up fatherless on the back streets of London it seems inevitable that Dave Desmond will follow a life of crime.However he joins the army and goes to war, where he kills a man.He gets a medal(and a blow job) He learns what women really want, from a German bar girl, and his sexual horizon is further expanded by two cousins he meets in Belfast.Back home his marriage improves and the future looks good until he takes advice from a Peigan Dream Catcher that proves disastrous

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Swinging   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Violence   Military  

The battalion did another 3 month deployment to Northern Ireland in September 1986, this time I did the full tour, but as we were based in Belfast we had a better time of it. Our main task was supporting the police; this was an easier job than rural patrolling in 'Bandit Country' but still wasn't without its dangers. The main difference was that we were able to fraternize with the locals, who were predominantly Unionists, without the constant fear of gun or bomb attack. There were always young women around our barracks, eager to be picked up, wined, dined and then fucked, by soldiers with money in their pockets and rampant dicks in their shreddies. This is true wherever a regiment is based; Belfast, Colchester, Aldershot, and all bases throughout the world where there are nubile young women and horny young squaddies.

Gino Frascetti was a Lance Corporal of another section in my platoon. He and I were mates from our time in the Junior Leader's battalion. Gino was from the Italian – obviously - and was one of the most handsome blokes in the battalion, probably in the regiment. He had to fight women off with a stick, they use to hang around him like flies round a cow's arse. We, or rather he, had picked up two tasty sorts in a pub one Friday night, and they were definitely up for it; both of them fancied Gino, of course, but one of them would have to make do with me.
The problem in Belfast was where to take a girl for a good shagging. It was still a very provincial place in 1986, try to book into a hotel for a night with a young woman and no luggage, and the local Morality Police would be round like a flash to save your soul. Luckily we had come up trumps with these two, or at least Gino had, as it was him that had pulled them -- is it any wonder I had him as a mate? One of the girls, Francine, had her own flat which she shared with the other bird, her cousin Rita. A flat owning girl in Belfast was as rare as rocking horse shit.

As it was her flat Francine claimed Gino as her fuck partner, which left Rita with me. Soon after we had got to the flat Gino was dragged off into the bedroom by Francine, and not long afterwards we heard the bed springs creaking, and the head board banging against the wall. Meantime Rita had decided to make the best of a bad job with me. I was sat in a comfortable big armchair and she climbed onto my lap, then stuck her tongue down my throat and fondled my crotch. Rita was not a bad looking girl, she was about my age, and was built more for comfort rather than speed, which didn't bother me any. She had the reddish hair and the pale blue eyes which was typical Ulster. I could taste rum and Coke on her tongue, which is not my greatest turn on, neither was her slightly blotchy skin. Still, beggars can't be choosers, as no doubt she herself was thinking, so I started unbuttoning her blouse. She had a fine pair of tits, and her bra soon joined her blouse on the floor. I licked a nipple and it sprang into life in my mouth -- a good start, 'happiness is an erect nipple' was something I had learned from Annalise. I got down to some serious titty loving, sucking, licking and kissing each nipple in turn. I then took a great gob full of a tit into my mouth and sucked and nibbled on them. Rita's breathing got heavier, and she started to unzip me, while I tugged down her skirt zipper. She stood up, the skirt collapsed around her feet and she quickly stepped out of her knickers, serviceable white things, which had left a red, elastic, mark around her chunky waist.

I got out of the armchair and peeled off my shirt, kicked off my shoes, undid my trousers, and swiftly got them off; they joined the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. Rita lay back in the armchair with her legs open, waiting for the throbbing knob -- which was advertising itself, like a tent pole, in my boxer shorts, -- to be introduced to her twat. Time was when I would have just rammed my cock in her cunt and fucked her like a Duracell bunny, but my lessons with Annalise had made me aware that there was more to sex than just frenzied fucking. I intended getting Rita well and truly primed before mounting her.
I got down between her thighs, and while my left hand kneaded her right breast my right hand fluttered over her belly and her mound, my fingers lightly tracing the line of her outer lips. She was dry, so I bent my head and licked her twat with the tip of my tongue. She jerked like she had had an electric shock; she also started to moisten, so I continued. Both my hands were now holding her thighs apart, and I went in closer, licking and sucking at her cunt lips. What with my saliva and her continuing moisture her minge began opening, and my flying fingers slid into the breach; 'stroke before poke' was an Annalise saying, so I did just that.

Rita was making agreeable sounds, sucking in her breath when licked, and letting it out with a sigh when stroked. I soon got a rhythm going; lips and fingers reciprocating over her cunt lips and clit, until phase 2 beckoned. First one, then two, finally three fingers, sliding slowly in and out and revolving in her gash, while my mouth fastened on her clit and blew and sucked alternately. Rita was now vocalizing in a husky Belfast accent, which I found quite a turn on.
"Oh yes. Oh God, yes. Aahhh." I slowed down the fingering and sucking.
"Don't stop. Don't stop." This last exclamation was at slightly more decibels than the former, she was definitely coming to the boil. Now for phase 3; I stood up and slipped off my shreddies, with some difficulty, as I had a prick as stiff as a telephone pole. The meaning of the phrase 'getting wood ' now became obvious to me.

 
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