Over the Hills and Faraway; Book 1 : Introductions
Chapter 8

Copyright© 2011 by Jack Green

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 8 - 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  

Francine had the dark hair, blue eyes, and the pale complexion which is typical of Ireland, rather than of Ulster. She was at least 5 years older than Rita—and me and Gino—and judging by her manner held a higher status job than Rita, who was a clerk in the local council. She sat on the edge of the bed and gave me an appraising look.
"I've often heard Rita being shagged, but I've never heard her make as much noise as that. She said you got her to come at least twice?"
I shrugged deprecatingly. "Just the right chemistry maybe. I don't profess to be a super stud or anything; I just try to give a girl a good time."
"Are you married?"
Her question caught me a bit by surprise. "I'm separated." I replied, truthfully, —Miriam was in London, and I was here in Belfast. "What about you?"
Sudden tears showed in her eyes. "Widowed." Her voice was low, and full of pain.
"I'm so sorry..." I began; she stopped me with her hand on my arm.
"It was three years ago; he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. On his way to work in a hotel, when a car bomb went off outside, just as he was going in. He was a chef—such a bloody waste." The tone of her voice had been angry, but that last remark was deep, corroding, sorrow.

I couldn't help myself. I sat down next to her on the bed, pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her. She started to sob quietly. Her tears fell in such amounts that the front of my shirt was soon sopping wet. I stroked her hair, and murmured soothing sounds, not real words, just sounds. I had a sudden flashback of Annalise doing the same for me.
Francine stopped crying, and lay with her cheek against my chest for about five minutes. I could feel her breasts rising and falling as she brought herself under control. She moved her head, and started kissing my chest through the wet fabric of my shirt, then her mouth was on mine and we kissed, not so much passionately as comforting.
She drew back her head and gazed into my eyes. "You're some fella', Des."
She then kissed me with a hungry passion, her tongue seeking and finding mine. We breathed in each other's breath, open mouthed.

Before we could progress further the bedroom door was flung open and Gino burst in. He was stark bollock naked, with his prick jutting out like the prow of the 'Cutty Sark'.
"Topper has just given me a bell," he announced breathlessly. "We've got to get back to barracks; all hells broken out in Londonderry. The company's moving out at five am!"
I rang for a cab while Gino scrambled into his clothes.
"You'll get in touch when you can?" Francine asked. I nodded and kissed her, then held her close for a moment or two. She slipped a sheet of paper, with her flat and office telephone numbers on it, to me while Gino was conducting a tonsillectomy with his tongue down Rita's throat.
The cab arrived. We left.


Four hours later we were in the back of a three tonne truck running through the first glow of daybreak towards Londonderry. The briefing had been—brief. A Loyalist march through a Republican area had got out of hand, and the local commander decided he needed more troops to contain the rioting and fire-bombing that had erupted in the Bogside.
I was sat next to Gino in the back of the truck. "I've got Lover's Bollock something awful." He complained, twisting and fidgeting on the hard seat. "I was just about to blow me wad down that Rita's throat when the bloody phone rang. I've probably get a blocked testicle or something. Anyway, how was it with you and Francine; did she gobble you? She's got a great cock-sucking mouth on her has that one."
I didn't really want to talk about Francine. I had felt something for her, and leaving her like that had really pissed me off, plus the fact I didn't like to think of Gino stuffing her with that great donkey dick of his.
"We just talked." I said, hoping that would shut him up—fat chance of that.
"Yeah, right. I saw you whispering into her mouth." He laughed, and after a second or two so did I.

Londonderry was a bit of a non-event. We arrived and set up cordons and such, but by that time the local battalion, with help from the police and the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR) had got the disturbance under control. We spent most of the day standing around with nothing to do.
"My teacher said if I didn't do my homework I'd end up hanging around on street corners..." said Gino, the platoon jester, " ... the old bugger was right!"
We stayed in Londonderry for the next two nights, just in case the trouble resurfaced, as it could, and did.
Me, Gino, and the rest of our platoon, had to extricate a police patrol from a very dangerous situation. We managed it without having to shoot anyone, and with only a few minor injuries to our blokes from the bricks and bottles being thrown. Some of the throwers were kids of about 6 years old, what sort of adults would they turn into? Eventually we returned to barracks in Belfast, and continued with our normal duties.

Our company commander rewarded my platoon for our work in Londonderry with a 36 hour pass—Saturday noon until midnight Sunday.
"Bloody great," Gino said. "We can finish off what we started with those two birds. Get cracking and give that Francine a bell."
I was a bit cautious. "They might have copped on to other squaddies since last week, we don't want to get the brush off."
"That Rita was gagging for my dick, and you haven't lived until you've had Francine sucking on your John Thomas. Believe me, Dewey, you'll kick yourself if we don't at least try our luck." Gino was very persuasive, so I rang Francine from the company orderly office.
"Des, how nice to hear you. Look I can't talk right now, but I'll get back to you in an hour or so." I had called during office hours on a Thursday, and Francine sounded very business-like.
"That's it, mate." I said to Gino. "She'll give me a call in an hour or so-- like fuck she will. If that wasn't the brush off then I'll show my arse in Woolies window!"
An hour later she called back; fortunately I couldn't find a Woolworth's in Belfast.

 
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