Over the Hills and Faraway, Book 3; Paradise Regained and Lost - Cover

Over the Hills and Faraway, Book 3; Paradise Regained and Lost

Copyright© 2011 by Jack Green

Chapter 16: I meet my Waterloo

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 16: I meet my Waterloo - Back in a loving relationship with his wife, and a promotion to sergeant, the future is looking good for Des. Then a family bereavement causes shock and awe. Miriam's reaction to it goes way beyond anything that Des could have expected…and all hell breaks loose. At first it seems that Des will weather the storm but once again Mr. John Thomas leads him astray. This time Des plays out of bounds, and although he manages to get his hole in one he must pay a price for breaking the rules.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Cheating   Slut Wife   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Prostitution   Military  

Six days after my birthday Ffion and I were sat together at a table in the opulent surroundings of the Officers Mess dining room in Trenchard Barracks.

We had met on every one of the intervening six days, taking foolhardy risks of discovery as we made love where ever and whenever we could. We had even made love in Ffion's house, when Gareth and Geraint were away for the night at some motor cycle rally. I had crept into the house through the garden, after Ffion had left the gate in the panel fence unlocked. Ffion had wanted me tol make love to her in the bed she shared with Gareth, asking me to stain the sheets so that she would have my spunk on her and in her after I'd left in the morning, but I thought that was a bit too perverted.

Instead we made deliriously wonderful love on the stairs, one of my favourite alfresco, places for shagging, and it was mind blowing. When I started my clench and grind routine I had to stuff Ffion's discarded knickers into her mouth to stifle her cries of pleasure. The shared wall to next door wasn't particularly thin, but Ffion got so vocal during her orgasm that even a deaf old granny would have heard her. Freda might be an old granny type but she wasn't deaf. When I came I buried my face between Ffion's breasts, in order to supress my shouts in her succulent flesh, giving her a love bite which she had to disguise later with fake tan.

The next day we met in a wooded area on the far edge of the camp. There were a few mature trees that randy couples used as support to shag up against; and that is what we did. Ffion was sandwiched between my thrusting body and the hard unyielding bark of an ash tree. She had removed her knickers, and had bunched her skimpy, summery skirt high up above her thighs. I had just unzipped my trousers and pushed Mr T through my pants opening, just in case we were disturbed and had to make a quick getaway. The copse was off the beaten track, but many of the married families walked their dogs in the area, and the fear of getting caught added an extra thrill to our coupling.

Do you know it was among one of the best sessions of love making we had ever managed? No caressing of naked bodies, no sucking of nipples or prick, no frenzied ferocious fucking. Just me moving in her and she moving on me; her ankle locked legs clenched tightly around my waist. Ffion came, drenching my prick with her love juice, and sucking my tongue into her mouth.

"Oh! My darling! Oh my sweetheart ... I love you!" she gasped.

I came, in her, and close to telling her the same.


The 18th of June is celebrated by many British regiments as Waterloo Day, to honour the memory of the predecessors of their regiments that fought in that decisive battle. As both the regiments based at Trenchard Barracks had 'Waterloo' as a battle honour it was decided to hold a joint Waterloo Ball, in the Officers Mess, for the Officers, Warrant Officers and Staff Sergeants of both regiments. The QDG's predecessor regiment had charged with the Household Brigade, which had scattered the first French infantry attack, but had then got themselves roughly handled by the French cavalry. The 1st RGJ predecessor regiment was the 52nd Foot, who had driven back the final French assault by the Imperial Guard, which had led to the French defeat at the battle.

Although Waterloo is regarded as a great British victory it is sometimes forgotten that only the timely arrival of the Prussians, on the right flank of the French, saved the Anglo-Dutch army from a possible defeat. The Anglo-Dutch army included regiments from the German states of Brunswick and Hanover in the order of battle, and added to these Germans were the men of the King's German Legion (also Hanoverians) of the British army. It would be quite permissible, therefore, to regard Waterloo as a German victory. However, you probably won't be surprised to learn that Germans seldom get a mention during the Waterloo Day celebrations in the UK.

In Germany it is slightly different. Many of the dignitaries at the ball were Germans, including the German Defence Minister, the Chief of Staff of the Bundeswehr, the Minister President of the State of Lower Saxony and the Uberburgomeister of Celle. There were also high ranking British dignitaries present, the British Ambassador to Bonn, the General Officer Commanding (GOC) British 1st Armoured division, and sundry high ranking officers at BAOR HQ who had served in either the Dragoons or the Greenjackets. It was because of these many guests that the ball had been restricted to Officers, Warrant Officers and Staff Sergeants.

The numerous sergeants in both regiments had been deemed too many to accommodate and so only those specially selected had been invited to attend (that is ordered to attend), and I was one of those so invited/ordered. It wasn't for my good looks but for the fact that I wore the Military Medal, which were few and far between and would reflect well on 1RGJ, being one reason for the 'honour'. The other reason was that as an unaccompanied sergeant I would be available to dance attendance, literally, on the more senior ranks' wives, and I was already booked for Mrs Molly Chivers.

The Waterloo Ball was a grand, formal occasion, with the regimental silver, and the Regimental and Queen's colours of both regiments, on display. Full mess dress and medals were worn by all the military, evening dress for civilians, and the ladies were dressed in ball gowns that would not have disgraced Vienna at the height of the Hapsburg Empire. I was wearing my newly acquired mess dress for the first time, and say it myself as shouldn't, I was the dog's bollocks (awesome!). An orchestra comprising of bandsmen from both regiments would be playing during the buffet, and of course the dancing. This would be for the most part strictly ballroom, although there would be a certain amount of the more raucous sort of military favourites, like 'The Gay Gordons', 'The Dashing White Sergeant' and 'The Lancers', after the senior officers and their guests had departed.

I had met up with the Proberts in the Sergeants Mess prior to the ball; I was going to be sat at their table along with a married couple from the Dragoons, and another 'spare' Dragoon sergeant, who also was on dancing duty for his regiment. Ffion was dressed in the emerald green gown I had first seen her wearing, at the farewell do for the Dragoon's retiring RSM last October. She looked absolutely beautiful, with a glow to her that I knew was mostly due to the exquisite love making session we had enjoyed earlier in the day, carried out on the back seat of her car in a multi-story car park in Celle.

Ffion and I exchanged chaste cheek kisses, and we behaved as if we had never panted, screamed or groaned, shrieked, gasped or moaned together, when exploring the furthest limits of pleasure in each other's bodies.

It appeared as if Gareth Probert had already been at the drink, whisky by the smell of him, and he quickly had two more doubles at the mess bar while the rest of us chatted and engaged in small talk. I knew that Gareth was feeling a bit low, he belonged to a local motor cycle club and one of the members had been killed in an accident a couple of week before. It had hit Gareth pretty hard as the dead man had been a particular friend of his.


Actually I was a bit surprised that Gareth had joined the club, which was based in Celle and naturally was comprised of Germans. Gareth didn't speak the language too well – in fact, hardly at all – but as he owned a BMW K100 LT and was a very good motor bike mechanic, he had been welcomed into the club and appeared to get on well with the other club members. I had accompanied him to the club house, which was situated in a very rough area of Celle, on one occasion and I wasn't very impressed with the club, or its members. They looked to be Hell's Angels types, but what really surprised me, and which I found a bit distasteful, was that the club seemed to be the Waffen SS Chapter of Hells Angels. They all wore those WWII German army helmets, most of them bearing the divisional flash of the 3rd 'Totenkopf' SS division. All symbols of Nazism are banned in Germany and I wondered how this blatant support of an SS unit that was guilty of so many war crimes was tolerated.

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