Bomber's Moon Page 5

  “The only way you’ll hurt me is if you make any unnecessary moves,” Archie replied hoarsely, as he did his best to be frank and open. “My gammy leg is fine. My cock will be soon if all goes well. Come on, darling,” he said in a coaxing manner. “Pay your debt.”

  Chrissie squirmed a little, and Archie groaned. “Damn it, Chris, I’ll come now if you do this. I’ve waited two years to have you. And I want it to be good for both of us.” He put his hand on her thigh and walked his finger up until he came to the lace edge of her drawers. She batted his hand away.

  “Archie Duggan don’t you dare.” To his delight it really sounded as if her protest was a halfhearted lip service.

  “Why not?” He put his hand back where it had been, winked and watched as she ran her tongue over her lips and sighed a breathy ‘ahhh’. Then she lifted her hand, flexed her fingers and relaxed them again without really moving. He slipped one finger under the hem of her underwear, and stroked the top of her muff.

  “Damp,” he declared with satisfaction. “And I bet I’ll find you’re wet.” He moved his fingers under the material straight to her clitoris. “I was right.”

  “Archie.” She almost wailed his name but after an initial freeze she relaxed against him, and didn’t attempt to stop his actions. “Please.”

  “Oh, yes, please,” he replied hoarsely as he chose to interpret her word as a ‘carry on’ message not a ‘don’t stop’ one. He lifted her off him, stood up as fast as he could and moved behind her, then pressed his erection into the cleft of her buttocks.

  Chrissie moaned, sweet and submitting. “All right. I give in. Cherry-picking time.”

  Archie snorted. “Where did you hear that expression?” He pulled her drawers down as he spoke and put them in his trouser pocket. “These need to go.” He lifted up the hem of her dress and tucked it in the waistband. “This will do for now.” He intended to show her what they could do together before she began to worry or change her mind.

  He pressed a trail of kisses down the back of her neck as he finger walked over her pussy before he put one, then two fingers into her channel. As he thought, her essence coated him as she clenched her inner muscles to drag his digits further in and hold them there.

  “Merle.” Chrissie gasped as he began to finger her. “What Hank said when they went all the way for the first time.” Her knees buckled and he held her up with his dodgy arm. They’d have to move soon, but first he intended to give Chrissie a taste of things to come. He used his thumb and pinkie to pinch and rub her clit at the same time as his other fingers set up a thrust and relax inside her.

  “Oh, Lord.” Her voice was thready and uneven. “Archie, that makes me all shivery and hot at the same time.”

  “Just as it should. It’ll get even better, you know.” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “Enjoy it all. Shout, scream, bite me if you want to. Tell me what you like, Chrissie. Let me pleasure you as you prefer.” He kept up his gentle pinch and tease. Now she was accepting his ministrations, leaning into them almost, and Archie had no intentions of giving her time to think about what was happening or ask him to stop. He took care as he rolled her clit in his fingers, feeling her juices transfer to them. She stiffened and moved her hand to hover over his. He spoke in a hurry, not letting her protest. “And, er, how is Merle?”…

  “Ooooooh. That’s good.” She sighed as he used his spare hand to open the buttons on the bodice of her dress and slide his hand under the strap of her brassiere. As he stroked one hard nipple she jumped and his fingers tightened on her clit. She held his fingers inside her, and moaned softly. “I need…”

  “Soon, love, very soon. Let’s get you out of this pretty dress so we don’t crush it.” He struggled to remove his fingers from her channel. God, she was so tight. Already, he could feel pre-cum at the tip of his cock, which was still confined in his trousers and strained at the material.

  “Chrissie, love, I need…”

  She put three fingers over his mouth. “Well, so do I and bugger what Mum said.” She pushed her pussy into his hand. Archie got the unspoken message and moved his fingers faster.

  “What?” he asked, confused as to what her mother had to do with anything.

  “She was wrong. This is amazing. She said that good girls don’t. Well I’m a good girl, and I’m doing it and enjoying it.” She blushed. “Oh, hell, I said that out loud.”

  “You did, and let’s make sure you enjoy it even more.” He moved one of his fingers and rubbed her clit again. At the same time, he twisted them both a little so he was able to bend his head and lave her nipple. “And you, my dear, are very, very good.” And bloody receptive, but he didn’t think he’d mention that yet. He renewed his efforts on her breasts and clit.

  She screamed, and Archie lifted his head without losing his grip so he could watch her face as she climaxed. And then counted sheep backward to make sure he didn’t do the same thing. Not yet. He didn’t want to overload her. There was so much more to show her. He willed his racing heart to slow. One step at a time. The sheer amazement, ecstasy, and pleasure on her face were as good as anything he’d ever seen.

  Slowly her shudders subsided, and she wriggled around. Archie lifted her away a little.

  “I think we’d be better off in a bed. Leg,” he explained as Chrissie looked at him, flushed and aroused. “As much as I’d love to have you over the table, I think the first time would be better for you in bed.” He bent and placed a kiss where, a few seconds before, his fingers had been creating magic. And he tasted her.

  Nectar and honey exploded on his tongue and his cock almost ripped the tweed of his trousers. He needed more. Much more and soon. “Bed, for the love of god. Come on.”

  ****

  Chrissie’s cheeks were warm. She’d heard about it, but never thought it would happen to her. Fingers, yes. She and Archie had explored that avenue a little before they split, but, well, not like this. This was new, good, exciting, but unexplored territory. Chrissie giggled to herself. She was eager to be an explorer.

  She was more than willing as she followed him out of the room and up the staircase. Her legs felt like jelly, and she held on to the bannister for support. Had she heard him say he’d waited two years to make love with her?

  Archie led her through an open bedroom door and lit the oil lamp on the mantelpiece. “No electricity up here, I’m afraid. But the fire’s been lit a while, so we’ll be nice and cozy. And after a bit, we won’t need extra heat, I promise you.”

  Chrissie laughed. Typical Archie. He had never been backward at coming forward as her grandmother often said. “Blowing our own trumpet are we?” She rolled her eyes in a very exaggerated manner. “Bragging?”

  “No darling, promising.” His over-the-top leer made her giggle even more. “Now let’s have that dress off. Don’t want to crease it.”

  “Or your trousers,” she replied cheekily, letting him pull her dress over her head. She waited in her bra and stockings and watched as he unbuttoned his trousers and made short shrift of his other clothes before he stood naked in front of her. Chrissie gulped. He was big—everywhere. She looked downward, her vision drawn to his long thick cock, which stood out proudly from its nest of hair. She averted her eyes from the crisscross of scars on his leg and arm. Those she understood, he neither wanted to think or talk about just then.

  And that’s going to fit in my daffodil? The euphemism used by so many of her friends seemed silly now, but there was no way she could use the words she heard bandied about so freely in the pub or by the older women at work.

  Honey pot! That’s it. Merle’s expression came to her. My honey pot! Or Pussy. Okay I can live with that, but…cu… She couldn’t even think the word.

  She looked at his body with frank regard. Who knew if she’d ever get a chance to see him like this again? Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the scars on his leg and arm were still red, angry-looking and pronounced. She bit her lips to stop her moan escaping and
held back tears. It was hard not to cry for all he and thousands of others had been through and were still going through. But yet again, her eyes were drawn in one direction. His massive erection stood out stiff and proud. Chrissie gulped, her earlier fears resurfacing. That would really fit inside her? Oh, my.

  Archie correctly read her expression. “Not only fit, but a perfect fit,” he assured her. “With room to move. Come and lie down here.” He walked to the bed and rolled back the sheet and blankets before kneeling awkwardly in front of her. “Hold on a sec, something needs doing first.”

  It was on the tip of Chrissie’s tongue to tell him she’d do it, whatever it was, when it hit her that he didn’t want help or sympathy. He wanted to woo her. Her insides turned to mush. How perfect.

  “Think we’ll have these off as well. Can’t ruin nylons, can we?” He rolled them down before putting one hand behind her, unhooking her brassiere, and putting the clothing on a chair. The pressure that moving the straps down had put on her chest immediately lifted, as Archie ran his thumbs over the swell of her breasts, and chuckled.

  “God almighty, Chrissie you are so bloody receptive for a virgin. It’s marvelous. I’m going to enjoy showing you what we can do together.” He pinched each nipple in turn and kissed the nape of her neck as he kneaded her breasts.

  She could tell he’d had plenty of practice. Her pussy clenched at the unwelcome thought of him doing all these things with someone else.

  Grow up. He’s almost thirty, and there’s a war on.

  “Now, let me see. What have we here?” Once again he kissed one nipple, then the other. “Time to itemize I think. Two breasts perfect to fit my hands. Two nipples to suckle.” He moved his hands to let his fingers play with her clitoris, teasing her hairs, and her navel. “One cunt all for me.”

  Chrissie blushed. Why could he say that with such insouciance and she not even think it? It must be a man thing. However, emboldened, Chrissie licked her lips, heard him groan and then reached out to touch Archie’s manhood. His skin was warm and soft and he jolted and moaned as she feathered her fingers over him. One step further than she’d ever taken. Only once had she dared rub him through his trousers, and his groan had her moving her hand in a hurry.

  She mimicked his movements, kissed his nipples, and then, heartened by his response, bent double to put the tip of his penis in her mouth and taste the juices there. They were salty and thick. Chrissie rolled them over her tongue as she remembered a leaflet one of the girls at school found in her brother’s room and brought to class to show them. Crudely written and badly produced, the drawings had them all giggling and blushing for weeks. She wondered just how many of her peers had tried what it suggested. Chrissie moved and circled Archie’s tip with her tongue again.

  I could get used to this. The more I do this, the bigger he gets. A thought crossed her mind. Would he get too big for her? It wasn’t a question she felt she could ask.

  Archie groaned, and she tried to pull back, scared she was doing something wrong. “Hell, Chrissie, that’s so damned good, I’ll come,” he said in a strangled tone. “For the Lord’s sake, get onto the bed and give me a chance to get inside you.” He moved over her, his tip barely touching her curls.

  “Archie, what if I don’t want to, you know…” She didn’t know how to put her fears into words, and flapped her and in the air like a demented owl flapping its wing. It was lucky he understood her incoherent beseeching.

  “No problem, darling. I’ll come like a gentleman.” He indicated the towel laid in readiness beside him. And moved again, nearer and nearer, and waited. “Yes?”

  Chrissie held her breath. This was it. “Oh yes.”

  His cock twitched, and without conscious thought, Chrissie opened her legs wide, ready to welcome him. This was it. Soon she, Chrissie Stride, would no longer be sweet and innocent but a woman of the world.

  There was a loud hammering on the farmhouse door.

  “What the bloody hell?” Archie stopped mid movement. His position looked precarious as he kneeled half on and half off her.

  A voice, gruff and urgent, was shouting.

  “Mr. Archie, Mr. Archie. Come quick. The rick’s on fire!”

  Saved by the bell, she thought hysterically as she watched Archie scramble into his clothes, his cock being most reluctant to be treated in such a way. Not that she’d wanted saving. In fact, she felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t right. She’d at least climaxed. Goodness knows how Archie felt, still unreleased so to speak.

  Chapter Four

  Archie felt like screaming. If it weren’t for the fact they needed the rick to help see them through the winter, he’d have shouted, “Let it burn.” But as it was...He turned and looked at Chrissie still sprawled on the bed. “Bugger.”

  “As you say. So what now? If you’re not going to be around, I’ll get back to The Grange,” Chrissie said, regret uppermost in her voice. “There’s still time. Because if I’m going to be on the carpet for breaking my curfew, let’s face it, I want it to be for a good reason. Not on the off chance you might not be away for long. Is there a bike I can borrow to ride back?”

  In spite of his worry, Archie laughed. “In the woodshed. I’ll get it out for you as I go. Damn it all, Chrissie, I thought I’d be the one having a ride tonight.” He kissed her lips, gave her right nipple a tweak for luck, and made his way as fast as he could downstairs. Alf Tibbins, one of his oldest and loyal farmworkers, was waiting for him, stirrup pump at the ready.

  “Don’t know how it started, sir, but when young Kenny saw it, it was well alight.”

  Archie grunted. Spontaneous combustion, a spark from a match, whatever; they were lucky it wasn’t during a bomber’s moon.

  “Young Kenny wasn’t conducting his courting nearby, was he?” asked Archie, as he got onto the ancient tractor. Alf clambered after him and held on to the back of the driver’s seat for grim death, taking care not to fall off as they bumped over furrows and tussocks of grass.

  “Not a chance. He knows he’d be out on his ear if he did. Ricks are sacrosanct, all the workers know that. Too much chance of losing the hay. None of them can go without a fag after a shag.”

  Archie felt guilty. Not everyone was as lucky as him, able to conduct their amorous liaisons in the comfort of indoors. A hayrick, cowsheds, stables, anywhere to get out of the wind was a bonus. And while anxious mothers tried to persuade their daughters “nice girls didn’t,” randy lads did their best to persuade those same girls “nice girls did” and did it very well. For every girl who listened to her mother, there was one who didn’t. And twice as many young men who were determined to increase that number—Archie being one of them.

  During these hard days of the war, the young, idealistic men who made up fighter command could count their life expectancy in months, if not days, rather than years. All of whom, in the main wanted to experience “the lot” before it was too late. Therefore to a man they put pressure on any half-good-looking girl, and that pressure was relentless. It was no wonder, when confronted with a pair of baby blues that pleaded, ‘it’ll be fine I’ll take care of you, but I’m off into battle and what if…’ so many hitherto innocent young ladies surrendered their innocence. And a goodly number of them lived to regret it. Either by growing larger for nine months—supported or not—or by watching as he who seduced her then ignored her. Of course there was also the sad cases of the lovers who didn’t come back, and left a legacy, which they never knew about. Now he’d found Chrissie again he was damned certain it wouldn’t be a part of his life.

  Archie came back to the present with a start as they reached the corner of the field where several men stood around the blazing rick, using dampened sacks to beat at the flames. The rick was well alight, and Archie saw, too late to be saved. Even if some of the hay were spared, it would be too smoke-ridden for any of the animals to go near it. It would be best to try to contain the flames and stop them from spreading to the other three ricks close by.

  He stopped the tract
or, clambered down in his ungainly manner, grabbed a dampened sack and started to beat at the flames.

  It took several hours before both Archie and his farm manager were satisfied they had the fire out. Weary in every fiber of his being, Archie thanked his men and set off back to Home Farm—but not before he promised ale to everyone who had helped in the crisis if they turned up at the local pub, on the following evening.

  If only, he thought as he limped, tired and aching indoors, I could be treated as well. He needed a good session—though not drinking. Why had the fates conspired against him? All he wanted was Chrissie. On him, around him, over him, under him. Just her. And he admitted to himself, it had always been her. Yes, he’d bolted like a moron when their parents had indicated their plans, but she’d been a scant seventeen years of age, and he was ten years older. He’d felt their age difference and the time—the war had just started and no one knew what was going to happen—meant he shouldn’t settle down with her. So he had rushed headlong into life as a single man.

  Yes, there had been plenty of willing bodies for him to plunge into, and yes, his itch had been scratched. Well scratched and in a myriad of ways. However, he realized he may have experienced physical satisfaction, but nothing other than that. He wanted more, and it had to be with Chrissie.

  Archie stripped off his clothes and put them into the laundry room to be dealt with later. He washed the grime off in the kitchen sink, too weary to care that the water was cold. No matter how much he scrubbed, be the water boiling or freezing, he couldn’t get the awful smell of burning hay out of his nostrils. He needed to get to bed and get some sleep. He hoped it wouldn’t seem so bad when he surveyed the damage in the morning.

  Ha, who am I trying to kid? It’s one more death knell for this family. What next? War was hard enough without fate taking a laughing hand.