It was the last evening of my time in Norway. I had decided to make it easy on myself and rent a flat instead of living out of a hotel for two weeks. I had made it three quarters of the way through my relatively uneventful third deployment to the middle east and was allotted 14 days of leave to get a break from combat. At that point in my holiday from Hell, I was already past the point of appreciating a hot shower and on my way to silently complaining about a poor choice of a glass wine for dinner.
The last time I left combat for anywhere in Europe I was being transported by military aircraft to the Army Medical Center in Landstuhl, Germany. I was unconscious and only able to breathe thanks to a nice young private who wasn’t old enough to have a celebratory beer with me afterward, but was old enough to squeeze an inflatable pouch (and, coincidentally, my makeshift lung) every few seconds to keep me alive. The injuries I sustained were severe enough to warrant spending many thousands of dollars to immediately evacuate me out of country, but had not endangered any of my limbs or my eyesight. The last thing I remember before the explosion is taking off my helmet to get a brief respite from the smothering heat and slug back some water. The next thing I can recall is waking up to the sounds of two German health professionals discussing the sutures that I later found out were more or less the only thing holding my guts in my abdomen. To put it plainly, I had been blown the fuck up.
I sat at the bar, silently discussing this sobering realization with a cold pint of beer. I checked my watch. She was fifteen minutes late. It made sense to me, as I had never seen the girl arrive on time to anything. I lifted the glass and situated it between myself and one of the ceiling lights, attempting to see how transparent the dark brew was. I didn’t have time to come to a conclusion, as the experiment was interrupted by her entrance into the pub.
She was a unique beauty, especially in this land. Among a sea of fair-haired women she might as well have been the only one to shake the snow out of her dark chestnut locks. I remember the first day of my trip when I saw her and she had this easy smile on her lips and a subtle tilt of the head that let me know she was exploring my features as well. Normally I would’ve been self-conscious and concerned with her opinions of me, but for some reason I was more enamored with her proud cheekbones and inviting gaze. Like a liquid through a funnel I was pulled in until I found myself lost in her hazelnut eyes, dark and warm with a spark of mischief, the kind that let you know she either had a plan for you or was working her way through one. She was a thunderstorm packed into a matchbox. I knew right then that my life would never be the same.
She found me quickly in the small establishment, her eyes shimmering and her lips parting to reveal a smile that made me feel like I was home again. She moved around a couple two-top tables and slid gracefully out of her jacket while I stood, crashing into me with a hug that I would have expected from my kid sister. I felt the warmth I had accrued over the last hour instantly sapped from me as she melted into my much larger form. It was a comfort I was happy to share.
“Hey you!” she beamed, still squeezing me tightly as she peered up at me from about chest height.
“Hey…how was work?” I responded.
“I need a drink…” she said with a roll of her eyes and politely took the mug from my hand, gulping down a long drink of the ale. Things like this made her so much more endearing to me.
“Keep that one, I’ll get another. “
I slipped out of her grasp and went to fetch another draught as she made herself comfortable at my table. We sat there in the pub and had several beers, giving me the opportunity to meet her roommate and a handful of her close friends, some for the first time, others for the second. We all laughed and joked, but I stayed quiet for the most part. In some ways I was there for myself, but at that moment I was there for her. I took great pleasure in watching her interact with all of them, her exaggerated reactions to their jokes, her bubbly laugh and genuine smile. She was real, both in the sense that she was no longer just a streaming video on my computer screen and that her soul was genuine. She was very, very real.
At one point she excused herself to go to the restroom with a friend, pausing as she passed me to place a hand on each of my arms and lean over my shoulder, whispering quietly in such a way that I found myself leaning closer to her just to be nearer to the source.
“Someone’s awfully quiet tonight…” she grinned, her eyes looking into mine with a characteristic confidence.
I had been in the middle of a taking drink, but paused with the edge of the glass on my lips when she spoke. This posture now hid the smile that crept across my lips in response.
“Just enjoying the conversation.” I downed a mouthful of beer quickly, turning my head to face her more directly. “I like it here.”
“Really? Because I was thinking maybe we should get out of here and go for a walk.”
Before I could make any effort to prevent it my brows raised and the corner of my mouth slid up in a smirk. She pressed her lips firmly together and mimicked my gesture, tilting her head to the side as if beckoning for my answer.
“Think about it,” she said and slipped away to the restroom.
I chuckled and turned back to the table after she had left, raising the glass to my lips one more time. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Of course, I was probably reading too much into it at the time, but it was still exciting to mentally thumb through the possibilities.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/2tx58q/from_online_flirting_to_fucking_in_publickind_of
**Part II** She and I met through an online video chatroom, one that I had frequented when I was back in the states. I had already established a good relationship with several of the people there when she started coming in. She was stunning, affording her the attention of just about every man in the room at any given time (and a handful of the women, too.) As the clock turned and pages of the calendar were torn out, we migrated from public discussion to secret musings about the others on camera to late night phone calls. We laughed and played and had a great deal of fun at the expense of others. I helped her through a tough breakup and she helped me cope with the death of my father. Almost without noticing, we had become very good friends. I was shaken out of my introspective reflection once again when she returned and tugged the brim of my hat down over my face. She bebopped around the table to her chair and removed her coat from the back of it, looking at me with a prankster’s grin. “You ready?” I never really had a choice. I fixed my hat and nodded, standing from my chair and downing the last swallow of my beer. I slid easily into my jacket, shaking out the collar until it fit just right. “Yeah, let’s go.” There was a substantial protest to our departure, but we eventually took our leave after much handshaking and Stay safe over there’s. It felt good to receive what I could only imagine was unanimous approval from her friends. When I opened the door the cold air hit my face like the slap of a crossed lover. A puff of white snowflakes swirled through the entryway on a gust of wind, causing her to let out a shriek and take off into the early morning cold. That was her, though. Running through life as fast as she could, squealing and grinning from ear to ear. I ducked out behind her, trotting along to catch up as I tucked my face into the collar of my jacket. She had turned around to look for me, arms outstretched to plead for some shelter from the winds. I pulled her into my side and we walked like that for a while, commenting on how all the lights in the houses were off for the night and how we hadn’t had enough to drink. “I want to show you something” she cooed, taking my hand and pulling me around a corner and into an alley that, although paved in stone, was far too small for cars to pass down. “Look…” She tugged me down onto a bench that was tucked into the side of an old structure, between two beams and under the edge of the roof. It provided some protection from the winds and snow, allowing her to unbutton her long coat that she wore to keep her stocking-covered legs warm. She tugged her shirt up slightly, looping a thumb in the waistline of her skirt and pulling it down to reveal just a hint of what I recognized as American camoflauge. She looked up for my reaction with her mouth open and her eyes wide, like a child that had just done something naughty. I could only laugh at her innocence, wetting my lips and meeting her gaze. Without thinking, I found myself biting my lower lip for a second and quickly corrected it. “Those are for me?” She nodded, her mouth still open in a smile that she quite obviously couldn’t contain. “I love them.” She brought a hand up to my face, cupping my cheek in her palm and brushing her thumb down over the corner of my mouth. “I like you better with a beard,” she said bluntly, that smile of hers softening only slightly. This made me laugh. She was so all over the place, which wasn’t uncommon, but this was somewhat exaggerated. “You’re drunk…” “No…” she said, hooking her tiny hand around the back of my neck and pulling me closer to her. “I want you…” If I would have had a split second more my jaw would have dropped, but she pulled firmly on my neck and brought me in for a hard, hot kiss. At first I couldn’t believe it was really happening, but it wasn’t long before I gave in to her and tilted my head slightly, deepening the embrace. She was the first to pull back, though only a whisper’s reach away, to study my reaction through hooded eyes. I felt pressured and something told me I would regret what I was about to say. “I thought you said we weren’t going to do this?” She gave me a look that I can only describe as the physical interpretation of, “Shut up you stupid, stupid boy.” Her brow furrowed and the curve of her smile flattened. She shook her head vehemently back and forth, bringing her other hand up so that both now held my face. I sat back in shock as she swung her leg around me, now straddling me there on the bench. She tilted my head back and took a quick, soft kiss before pulling away again. “No…I want you. Now.” “Here?!” I responded, protesting only slightly. I was trying to think of rotten fruits and bearded ladies and repulsive distant relatives – anything to help me hide my arousal. “Here.”
**Part III** I took a moment to think about it, wondering what the proper response would be. Part of me wanted to take her home and put her to bed. She was drunk and so was I. But the stronger, more adamant part of me was extraordinarily turned on. There were no words said. I simply lunged forward, taking her mouth in a forceful kiss. I was shy at first, not wanting to overstep any boundaries that she may have established. All of those walls soon came crashing down as I felt her hands work the leather and buckle of my belt. Inspired by her passion, I parted her lips with my tongue and tasted her for the first time. As we kissed I slid my hands along her stocking-clad thighs, where they soon disappeared under her skirt. I was shaking slightly, perhaps from the cold or perhaps from the events transpiring between us, but I was almost certain she couldn’t tell either way. She easily undid the buttons on the fly of my jeans and proceeded to busy her hands with exploring underneath my sweater. I was happy to have her there, as I was consumed with making a statement of my own… *SHRCK SHRRRRRRRCK* The sound of her stockings tearing caused her to pull back from our kiss, mouth agape and eyes as large as moons. I heard an audible gasp from her as she sat back onto my thighs. “You’re bad…” Her surprise faded and morphed into a wicked grin as she leaned back into me, taking my lower lip in between her teeth in a playful bite. My eyes fell closed and I let out a soft moan just as I plunged a finger into her wet slit. She stacked her own moan onto mine and we finished them in unison, breaking apart to take each other in with a heady stare. There was a brief period where we manually teased each other. I pumped a finger in and out of her, my thumb tracing circles over her clit. With a free hand I reached up to grasp the side of her neck, bringing it closer to that I could kiss along her jawline and throat. Meanwhile, her hands had found their way to my pants again, meeting little resistance, as I hadn’t worn any undergarments since I was back in the States. She took me in one hand and stroked my stiffening cock, putting her other hand on the wall behind me for stability. She was clearly not in the mood for foreplay, as she soon pulled out of my grasp and sat up tall in my lap. She took my hand from between her legs and lifted it over my head, pressing it firmly against the stone wall behind me with our fingers interlaced. With a confidence that made me that much harder, she guided the tip of my cock to her waiting slit, allowing me to help hold her panties off to the side. She pressed the swollen head against her clit and slid it back and forth across her most sensitive area several times over. Finally, the weight of the suspense dropped and she eased me down to her narrow entrance. I bit my lip, waiting for that splendid sensation of gliding into her tight embrace. At first, she only took me to the ridge of my cock, rising and falling only a fraction as she grew accustomed to my girth. She bit her lip and laid her head back while I used my free hand to guide her hips up and down. Suddenly, like a dam giving way, she opened for me and slid down over my hard member, coming to rest firmly in my lap. She sucked in a sharp breath and I noticed her bite her lip to avoid making any more noise. Her hands moved quickly to my shoulders, squeezing firmly as he lowered her head and closed her eyes, whispering… “Ouch.” “Are you okay?” “Yeah. Just give me a second.” A quick interjection of words in an otherwise speechless dance. After a short respite she looked up at me, smiling softly and leaning forward to kiss my forehead. I did not dare to move, but she saved me from worrying by beginning to writhe once again. She was tight, very tight, and I heard her giggle into my ear as she felt me flex inside of her. I moved both hands onto her hips, not forcing any movements, but rather following along as she lead me through the steps. She was situated higher than me, for the most part, allowing me to lean into her and press a kiss to her collarbone. She smiled and looked down at me from her perch, rising up to the tip of my cock and falling down to the bottom in a rhythmic pattern of passion. As she became more comfortable, she began to move more quickly and more assertively. I took this change of pace as a green light to begin teasing her clit again. So there we were, a warm embrace in an otherwise cold and unforgiving night. Our sinful actions cloaked by her long trenchcoat and shared with any unseen voyeurs only when a strong gust of wind swept through the alley. She had tossed my hat off to the side, her hands ranging over my head and neck, fingers sporadically burying themselves in my hair when we both came together to hit just the right note. We were a chorus of moans and sighs, gasps and growls. Composers of a song that only the two of us would ever hear. At one point she gave my hair a much more aggressive tug than previously felt. I responded in kind by giving her ass a firm clap, which echoed through the dark alleyway. She squealed quietly, reveling in the attention my hands were giving to her body. I cupped her ass in my palms, leaning forward to sit up straighter and squeezing them to secure a firm grip. I took control of her, guiding her wet pussy up and down over me, each time pulling her down with a little more force. She gave in without protest, happy to pass the reins of our lust off and simply let herself be fucked. They say that in certain situations your senses become more acute. You can see things you wouldn’t have otherwise seen, feel what you couldn’t feel, hear what you couldn’t hear. Suddenly, I was incredibly in tune with her entire body. I heard the vibration in her moans and sighs, I could feel her walls tightening around me as I thrust myself inside of her, I could feel every minute change in pressure as her hands squeezed and scratched and clawed for some kind of relief from the pleasure building up inside of her. I experimented with different depths and speeds, rotations and pulsations until finally, like clues these observations provided me with the answer. I dropped back against the wall once more, my hands running up over her stomach and around her breasts, squeezing them briefly before encircling her ribs just underneath her bossom. Will all the leverage I could muster, I pulled her down onto me, shoving myself as deep inside her as I possibly could. She threw her head back and let out a guttural moan, squeezing my shoulders as if she was about to be thrown from the edge of a cliff. Dropping my hands to her hips, I guided them back and forth over me, grinding her clit over my pelvis in what I hoped would be her final ascent. We climbed and climbed together, each moment coming closer and closer to the peak of our passion. Now that I was more deeply inside her, she became more vocal and more violent, scratching and biting and crying out as we quickly made our way to the summit. She clenched around me, rocking to and fro in such a way that I could hardly contain myself any longer. And then it happened. I felt a tightening in me and knew that there was no turning back. I shot up from the wall, wrapping my arms tightly around her and taking her lips again. She threaded her arms around my neck and we flexed and pulsed together, rising and falling on the bench like a piston. I knotted my fingers in her hair and let out a primal moan into her neck, crashing over the summit and tumbling down the other side. She came soon after, her vice-like grip siphoning the last of my pleasure from me until we both collapsed against the wall, shaking from our efforts. There was no discussion, no concern over what had just transpired. After a long period of gasping for breath we finally looked at each other with sleepy eyes, kissing again to congratulate each other on a job well done. Despite the bitter cold, our hair was damp with sweat and we were both flush in the face. We took our time collecting our things and rushed back to my flat to avoid the cold.
**Part IV** I laid there that night, idly combing through her hair with my fingertips as she slept on my chest. It was odd to me, all of this, but somehow it still felt right. I knew that the next day I would shave and get dressed and board a plane back to the Hell I had lived in for seven months, a place of violence and bloodshed and a constant struggle to survive. But in that moment I felt a certain easiness and comfort – a warm peace. The next morning we woke up slowly, talking in the morning light and teasing each other about the reality of what had actually happened the night before compared to what we both said it would be like. We fell comfortably into each other again and made love once more before leaving to go to the airport. In the terminal we hugged and kissed, a petite little American girl and her stranger-soldier. She fit easily into my arms and looked up at me with a genuine smile. My heart broke knowing that in a few short moments she would go back to her life and I would go back to someone else’s war. “I think I’ll come back here.” I said cautiously, hoping that my comment would be received well. “That’s too bad,” she countered, “Because I’ve just decided I’m moving back to the States.” “Really?! That’s great! What part?” I asked, my interest piqued by just what had changed her mind. “I was thinking Florida…” she said with her characteristic grin, tilting her head to the side a bit. I live in Florida.