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Lady Dorothy's War (Episode 3)

Lady Dorothy entertains a new American USAAF officer with mouth-watering results...
Lady Dorothy’s War (Episode 3)

A Series Set In England During WWII

We last left Lady Dorothy Brooks secretly collapsed in a stable-stall with her hand in her knickers as a the sluttish servant girl Daisy rushed past attempting to settle her semen soiled underwear…

As the pretty, (and now frankly perspiring) Lady Dottie removed her other hand from her mouth she could hear the fumbling of Alfred the stable boy as he dressed again having just royally anally violated Lady Dottie’s housemaid.

Suddenly, an anguished equine cry resounded outside as Lady Dorothy’s wounded mount, Venus vented her anger at having been left unattended. On impulse, Dorothy shot upright and glanced toward the stable door. At the corner of her eye she saw that Alfred the stable boy had also risen instinctively to respond to the horse’s pained cry. Both parties locked gazes as the gravity of the situation descended upon the guilty pair.

Unthinking and still flustered by what she had witnessed Lady Dorothy stormed from the byre and addressed Alfred as she placed her hands upon her hips.

“Your behaviour is disgraceful and I shall speak to you later,” she said sternly but in a panting voice, “Now see to the animal…”

While Alfred muttered a bumbling apology Lady Dorothy couldn’t help but glance down at his trousers and observe the still semi-rigid rod that hung down the leg of his work pants. Gosh he was large! As her eyes raised to the panicked face of her young stable boy she noticed that his own gaze had fixed upon her unbuttoned jodhpurs as he was staring in rapt attention at the flash of snowy-white silk lace that peeked from her crotch.

“See to the bloody horse,” she shouted, her face flushing. “And I shall see you and Daisy later!”

As the boy stumbled out she settled her outraged wet underwear and buttoned up her riding breeches.

Arriving at the Manor House Lady Dorothy noticed an American automobile in the driveway and its presence was explained by the obsequious butler, Soames.

“There’s a Lieutenant Colonel Hart waiting in the drawing room, M’am, an American,” he sniffed. She rushed upstairs and changed…

As we have read…

Lady Dorothy entered into the drawing room wearing a pink woolen skirt and a matching cardigan over a pale blue linen shirt. Over this ensemble she had set the pearl necklace that her father had given her as a wedding present. She had put on her newest and last pair of silk stockings and had donned a salmon coloured pair of court shoes that she thought were ladylike but not too obvious.

Lieutenant Colonel Hart was reclined on her husband’s favourite armchair sipping a very large whiskey as she walked into the room.

He was very dark and his chin was blue as if he had not shaved. His hair was long and flopped in front of his angular face and his full mouth dragged upon a fat cigar as he seemed to appraise her. His eyes were knowing yet curious… She thought he looked a little bit like Clarke Gable. But Younger.

“Nice shoes, M’am, terribly pretty,” he drawled, “It’s a real pleasure to meetcha…”

He rose from the chair and she noticed how tall he was. She extended her hand demurely but was surprised and pleased as he grasped her hand and pulled her face toward him and kissed her upon both cheeks! Unconsciously she started backward and he noticed her discomfort.

“Jeez, M’am I’m sorry, I forget sometimes I’ve just arrived in England…”

He shook his head and looked at her. “I flew fighters in Spain in ’38 and that’s how we greeted the Spanish noble ladies… Really, I’m just an ‘ole Boston boy… ”

His embarrassment sent an odd thrill through her body.

Recovering, she asked, “Can I get you another Whiskey…. It IS Colonel Hart, isn’t it?”

“Yes, M’am,” he said shyly, “ Lt. Colonel Maximilian Hart, late of the Spanish Republican Air Force and currently commanding the 323rd squadron of the 9th Bombing Group of the United States Army Air Force. And I would dearly desire another of your fine Scottish whiskeys, M’am…”

As Lady Dorothy poured them both a large drink the American pilot appeared to gather his thoughts and took a deep breath.

“M’am,” he said, accepting her proffered drink, “I’m here to inform you that Little Bedford is shortly to become home to a fighter squadron of Negro Thunderbolt fighter pilots from Tuskegee in the United States whose job it will be to protect my bombers as we do what we have to do over Germany during this war. I’m asking for your help here M’am as a pillar of the community in welcoming these men and ensuring that your village treat these boys just like the fine flying soldiers they are regardless of colour or difference…”

“My dear Colonel Hart,” exclaimed Lady Dorothy, “ However did you think that might be a problem? Gosh, you Yanks are so touchy,” and she stepped, rather unsteadily to the bar trolley returning with a bottle of scotch which she used to freshen both the American Officer’s glass and her own. They drank and chatted.

Her normally staid manners relaxed under the disarming charm of his Boston drawl.

The tall American pilot sympathised as Lady Dorothy found herself telling him how much she missed her older, imprisoned POW husband. He reciprocated by telling her of his longing for his own wife and twin daughters back home in the States.

“Kathy wears her hair just like yours, M’am,” he observed, “’Cept that she’s a blonde… It’s pretty.”

She blushed at his American forwardness as he crossed to the trolley, returning with the Scotch bottle. Reaching to refill her glass an errant flake of hot ash detached itself from his cigar and alighted upon her stockinged knee with a tiny hiss.

“Oh BUGGER!” Cried the English gentlewoman.

Immediately whipping out his handkerchief the pilot squatted between Her Ladyship’s knees and begun to brush her thigh. His touch caused a delicious sensation to shoot from the girl’s leg straight up to her groin which she could feel begin to tingle and grow damp. It had been years since a man had touched her legs. She moaned softly at his touch.

Unconsciously she leaned back in the chair and parted her legs with a gasp, closing her eyes. She felt him hesitate for a moment and then his hand slipped right under her skirt and his fingers began to stroke her most secret place.

“Oh, M’am,” whispered the Lt. Colonel as he felt her soaked arousal, “You’re so warm and wet down here…”

Rasping above the tops of her stockings and brushing her inner thigh, his bristled chin descended as his face buried itself between her legs. He inhaled deeply of her and his lips began to nibble at her knicker-clad mound. She parted her knees up and pulled up her skirt with one hand as she felt his probing tongue push the material inside her cleft as he moved his mouth upward and downward upon her.

She gasped loudly in passion as for the first time a man kissed her wet and welcoming pussy. Quickening his lapping motions upon her his fingers pulled the wide leg of her underwear to one side.

Encouraged by her loud panting the pilot stuck his tongue into her exposed depths and continued to lick her. Now concentrating at the top of her sex she heard his own low groans as she became aware of a building tingle at the heart of her sex. Shaking uncontrollably now a wave of electricity coursed through her shaking frame and she cried out loudly as she came for the second time that day.

Her heaving body still drawn up into the chair she felt yet another rasp as the American tore his face from between her trembling legs.

Aware that he had caused her to crest, her lover now stood in front of her and steadied himself against the armchair with one hand. His other hand was furiously fumbling at the fly of his uniform trousers only inches away from her face as he gazed down at her with smouldering eyes and a glistening chin. With a popping of trouser buttons, a large member fell out of his pants and struck her upon her cheek, leaving a glistening trail of moisture on her powdered face. He grasped his rod with purpose and as her mouth opened in amazement at his size he roughly thrust his tool between her lips.

Gagging at the gamy taste of this unfamiliar invader Lady Dottie reached up to grasp the thrusting shaft. Never before had she touched a man’s penis, far less taken one into her mouth.

She was fascinated to find him slide between her gripping fingers as if his iron-hard manhood was encased in silk. Instinctively she began to stroke him along his considerable length as he pushed himself into her throat, her lips sucking him in eagerly and her tongue licking the underside of his bulbous helmet.

Now he removed his hand from his groin as her lips continued to suck him up and down his cock. Gripping her hair he gently forced her head lower and lower upon him as she felt the column of flesh in her throat begin to pulse. At once she felt a molten explosion in her mouth as he came violently and she heard his low grunt above her captured and violated face followed by a heavy sigh. His salty-sweet fluid filled her mouth and she coughed slightly as she attempted to gulp down his offering, swallowing again and again as he continued to pulse and spurt within her lips.

Softening now, he slipped from her bruised mouth and she looked at the strange organ she still pinched between her fingers. The shiny purple bubble-head was still leaking a clear clouded liquid and she darted out her tongue to taste the little mouth at its tip.

The Lt. Colonel’s flinch caused her to glance up at him, towering above her whorish and dishevelled form.

“Oh, M’am….” whispered the American, “Oh M’am I am so, so sorry….” He offered her his handkerchief to wipe her dripping face.

The words escaped her before she realised what she was saying.

“Don’t apologise, Yank,” she said. “I rather enjoyed that. Is that… Is that how Americans do it?” Here he smiled at her with sparkling eyes.

“Sometimes, M’am… Sometimes…”

He stepped from her and she released his drooping fleshy cylinder from her grasp. As he buttoned up his uniform she wiped her stained face with his handkie and straightened her skirt around her ruined silk stockings.

“My last pair,” she muttered forlornly as she surveyed her burned legwear.

“I can bring you some Nylons from the base M’am if you’d like,” offered the tall officer, “It would give me an excuse to come see you again…”

“You don’t need an excuse to come to the Manor House again, Lt. Colonel,” she purred.

Regaining her composure she found herself actually quite proud of how she had performed for this handsome Yank.

“In fact, I look forward to your next visit," she offered, "and I think that you should probably call me Dottie now…. In private at least….”

“I will sure do that, Lady Dottie,” said the officer with a warm smile. “And maybe you could call me Max?”

“Yes... Max,” agreed Lady Dorothy, as she smiled demurely at the handsome officer and licked the last of the salty taste of him off her lips...

(To Be Continued)

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright (c) Stephanie Stone 2010 All Rights Reserved

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