Chapter 15: Addiction

We met at 2pm on the first Monday after Christmas, in a car park in Celle. I was off duty on the day she had specified and I wondered how she knew I would be available for our tryst. Dead on time her BMW drew into the car park, she beckoned me over and I received the full tongue and face sucking treatment as soon as I had sat down in the car. She then drove, one handed, to an autobahn rest station about 15 miles towards Hanover. We booked into a room and I joined her in what can only be described as a fuck-frenzy.

Our clothes came flying off as soon as the motel room door shut, and we went at each other like street dogs. She was like a bitch on heat and I was like a rutting stag. We tore into each others flesh like crazed carnal cannibals; there was no love making, it was sheer hard brutal fucking. After the weeks of sexual tension that had built up between us since our first meeting in Celle this sudden, violent, release triggered things in me that I hadn't felt before. I bellowed, with lust and with triumph, and with sheer gut wrenching rapture, as I flooded into her. She screamed, and bit and scratched, and the cries she let out, as waves of pleasure wracked her body, had the next doors' inhabitants knocking on the wall, whether in appreciation, or to shut us up I don't know.

It didn't take us long to reach our climax; I think I got to mine before Ffion reached hers but she wasn't far behind me. We lay wrapped in a post orgasmic stupor as our breathing and heartbeats slowly returned to normal. My back was bloodied from her raking nails, when she had abandoned herself to an intense orgasm that had her alternately biting my shoulder and shrieking. I was exhausted, but had such a heightened feeling of exhilaration, of euphoria, of being on top of the world, that I felt that I could do anything, even fly. It was what I imagined a druggy on a high would experience, after getting a fix. Not even with Miriam during the Spanish Idyll, or with Pippa in her most stimulating sexual role playing mode, had I ever experienced such a shattering reaction to a sex session.

The only thing I can compare the feeling with is to a parachute or a bungee jump. That rush of adrenalin that comes when you leap out of an aircraft, waiting for the canopy to crack open above your head, or, when on reaching the end of a bungee jump, that moment of stillness before the rope starts to spring back. It gives you such an overpowering sense of being alive, and capable of doing anything. That was the feeling I got from Ffion. It was amazing really because there was never any semblance of 'love' between us during those first frantic months of our affair. No tenderness or sweetness, it was just straight forward animal like fucking, pure and simple. It left me as exhausted as if I'd just finished a gruelling speed march or assault course, but on such a high that I became addicted to that feeling, and I became hooked on fucking Ffion. In some ways I was back to the 4 Fs: Frenzied Ferocious Fantastic Fornication!

After catching our breath we went at it again, not quite so frantically manic as we had at first but still like street dogs. This time we took longer to climax but when we did we both shouted out in a mixture of exultation and pleasure, at the same, mind blasting, time.

"My God I needed that" Ffion said, after we had finished bucking and writhing. She kissed me in that face sucking way of hers, and for a brief period we just lay, sated, in each other's arms.

"Got to go, got to get back to cook Gareth's dinner." She pulled her naked, sweat sticky, body away from mine with a sucking sound. I thought she would have had a shower, we had sweated heavily into each other, and so much of my sperm had flooded into her that some was even now seeping out from her glowing cunt.

"I love the feeling of spunk oozing from me when I get home; I love the stink of sex on my body." She spoke over her shoulder as she swiftly put on her panties and bra.

"I hope you get back to camp still smelling of me." She leaned over and sucked my tongue into her mouth. Her body odour, a mixture of our combined sweat, my spunk, her love juice and perfume, was in my nostrils, and it was quite a turn on. I would have had another bout of animalistic sex if she had suggested it, but unfortunately she didn't. Ffion then drove me back into Celle and gave me a quick farewell length of her tongue, before dropping me off at a bus stop.

I then embarked on a torrid, passionate and ecstatic affair with Ffion Probert that I knew would end in disaster - and I didn't give a fuck! I was infatuated, obsessed and addicted to her, and I never gave a thought to my career, or to what was left of my marriage. At first we just met once a week; usually on an afternoon when she was either on her way to, or coming back from, a trip selling her clothing line to a NAAFI store on one of the many British military establishments in the area. She made these trips two or three times a week, and after the first month of our affair, such was the hunger we felt for each other, that we were meeting each time she made a trip.

The affair was further complicated, and made even more risky (and exciting), by me being a frequent guest at her house. For some reason Gareth Probert had taken a liking to me, and it was he that had first invited me to his home one evening. He had a video of the Falklands and wanted my views on it. That one evening had expanded to a couple of times a week, sometimes on the same evening of the afternoon when Ffion and I had been fucking each other senseless in an out of town motel room. The buzz that this gave our affair I just don't have the words to describe. Imagine sitting in a room chatting to a bloke, with his wife, still reeking of our sweat and of the spunk that I had poured into her body only a few hours earlier, handing round drinks and food. How Ffion and I managed to keep our hands off each other and behave like 'normal' people at these times is beyond me.

I also used to meet up with the Proberts in the Sergeants Mess on a Ladies' Night, sometimes at a dance but more usually on a Tombola evening. Once again she and I would behave impeccably, although occasionally her hand would grasp my crotch under the table and sometimes my hand would be on her inner thigh. This proximity to each other, without any sexual release, would stoke up the fires so that when we next met, in some grotty motel room, or sleazy hour rate hotel, we went at each other as rapaciously as that first time.