The German Sub

Attractive and alone...

*** Night Games.

Georg turned in his sleep and moaned quietly. He muttered a few words in German as he found a position that suited and then snored softly. Outside the storm gathered force and threw sheets of rain at the windows in its fury. A distant rumble of thunder heralded the climax of the Atlantic storm that would last a day and then settle down to the steady drizzle and mist that was its usual aftermath.

A light entered the room, a flickering yellow light that heralded Mary's arrival. Naked, and panting slightly with lust she laid the lamp on the table and slipped between the sheets to nestle up to his sleeping form.

One hand slid down his body to grasp his prick while the other covered his mouth.

'How long has it been since I have had a man?' she thought as she felt him awaken and respond. 'Three years, four years?'

"But..." he said.

Her hand closed his mouth with her finger tips as she slowly pulled at that prick. It hardened and swelled to full size under her attentions before she slid down and over him to leave her pussy poised to take him in.

Her hands took his wrists and guided his arms to lie under the weight of her thighs as she lowered herself onto him.

"This is for me," she said in a firm voice as, inch by inch, she swallowed him into her.

He thrust slightly, pushing a little further before her weight pressed him down and took him all in.

"I said, this is for me!"

Georg looked up at the woman who was fucking him and saw her breasts and long hair in the flickering light of the oil lamp. She was like a goddess who had arrived to break his dreams and create new ones that sucked him into a vortex of pleasure.

A rumble of thunder shook the panes in the windows and hurled more slashing rain at the windows with an emotion that mirrored her desperate need.

Slowly she began to rock on his prostrate form. A slight movement at first, that built into a rhythm that made her moan with ecstasy. Her hand drifted to her sex and began to massage the point of her need, a subtle massage that absorbed her into a world of pleasure.

He was hers, a ghost that had arrived in the night to be surrender to her. A prick that would impale her, if she let it. He was fortune and gratification combined in perfect harmony, a release of need for her body.

Mary climaxed at the thoughts that ran through her fevered mind as the storm and the sex became a single event that heralded what she had always needed, but never managed to find. A man who was ripe to give himself up to her inner strength.

Georg was on the point of no return when she lifted her body and moved to enclose his face with her dripping slit.

'I have to give a little,' she thought as her hand grasped him and pulled his prick tight.

He moaned and then kissed those lips that pouted from her wiry pubic hair. Georg felt enclosed and held to ransom by her hand as he slipped his tongue into her to release a cascade of her sweet juice over his mouth.

That hand!

It danced over his straining prick and balls as she enjoyed the man who delved into her with lips and tongue. Now he was serving to her demanding fingers, he felt an irresistible urge to push deep and explore as he came ever closer to surrendering his climax.

Lightning lit the room in stark white as he orgasmed and kissed her clitoris with a spasm of completion.

She pushed down on him and directed that waterfall of come over his prostrate form before being overwhelmed by an orgasm that made her gasp with its intensity. Like wave it swept over Mary, as she realised that the man who had walked in from the storm was hers, and hers alone.

*** Daytime Games.

Georg awoke.

A slow coming-to that allowed him to gather his thoughts and realise that the events of the night had not been a dream. The taste of her was still on his lips, the dampness on the sheets was the aftermath of his climax and the oil lamp still burned on the table even though the cold grey light that flooded the room cancelled its warm glow.

Somehow he had found a place where the war was just a slight irrelevant shadow on the horizon. A woman who fucked like a whore and made him serve her like a Queen. He smiled and felt so safe and warm in his bed, how could it have turned out better?

This was not the England he remembered. Bustling, prim and so very moral. This was a quiet corner of lust and loneliness that was of another bygone era.

He stretched and sat up.

"What do I wear?" he thought aloud in English.

It was so very easy to switch to the tongue that was almost his first language.

He looked around at the still room and then at the last of the storm that had almost consumed him last night. If it had arrived an hour earlier, while he was still in the grip of the Atlantic, he would have drowned. He would have been washed up on the shingle to become a small insignificant casualty in a war that was consuming all of the humanity in Europe with its fierce flame.

He pulled a sheet from the bed and wrapped himself in it.

As he walked onto the balcony that overlooked the stairs he heard the sound of movement below. He peeped down to see Mary carrying wood into the house. As she entered she shook the water from herself and carried the logs into the living room.

Georg pictured her in the glow of the lantern last night and felt himself stir to an erection. Despite the cloak that had sheltered her from the rain, despite the skirt and jacket she was the same woman. Large breasted, long haired, short of stature with shapely legs and slim hands.

Hands that knew how to make a prick deliver its load!

He slipped down the stairs and entered the living room to find her placing a log on the fire. For a moment he watched her stir the pile in the fireplace without comprehending that the charred remains of his clothes were smoking in the grate.

'She has destroyed my uniform,' he thought as he watched her place the dryest log on top of the blaze.

The happy realisation that she was covering up his presence in her home was balanced by a new thought.

'What am I going to wear?'

Some slight rustle of the sheet that enveloped him made her turn to face him.

"Would you like some breakfast?" she asked.

"Thank you," he said as he contemplated the heat-blued steel button that lay in the grate.

The only thing remaining of his trousers.

"They would give you away, Georg," she said with a smile. "We'll have a bite to eat and then I'll find you something to wear."

She led him to the kitchen and showed him the fresh bread and cheese that she had laid out.

"This is not the welcome I expected as a German in England," he said as he picked up the bread.

There was a moment's hesitation on her part before she replied.

"This is my welcome for a man that knows how to give a woman what she needs. If that is you then the welcome is genuine."

He ate the cheese and bread with gusto as he contemplated her. There was no doubt that she was attractive. Her confident demeanour was not so much a challenge as a statement of her ascendancy. The fact that she knew that he was now relying on her to keep him out of the prison camp on the Isle of Man that awaited prisoners of war was almost a turn-on.

"What happens now?" he asked her as he finished the bread and licked his fingers.

"Well, you get dressed and then you can help me," she answered. "There are a host of things for you to do for me, fucking is just one of them!"

The way that she used that simple crudity just confirmed his opinion that he was now faced with a basic choice. To walk over the hill and give himself up to the first policeman that he saw, or do her bidding and retire from the war as her prisoner.

"Of course," he said. "I am happy to help."

"You will do more than just help," she said as she beckoned him to follow her.

Mary led Georg through the house to her bedroom where he watched as she opened a wardrobe and pointed.

"Choose something to wear and then meet me in the kitchen."

As she left the room he went to the wardrobe and flicked through the clothes that were on offer. At first he had expected that she had some men's clothes. Perhaps she was a widow who still had some of her previous husband's clothes, or perhaps she was unmarried and her father's suits would be on offer!

His hopes were dashed as he inspected the contents. Silk slips, church dresses, skirts, bloomers and women's jackets. Not a single pair of trousers in sight!

Ten minutes later, when Mary returned to find out what was taking him so long, he was still going through them all to find something, anything, that suggested masculine attire.

"It's all I've got," she said with finality. "Wear something or go naked, it's all the same to me!"

"But," he said. "None of these will fit!"

"Stuff and nonsense, Georg. You are as small as me and they will fit! Pick a nice skirt for yourself and pretend that you are a Scottish Laird. Even my shoes will probably fit," she said with a laugh. "You have pretty small feet, or maybe small pretty feet."

She chuckled at her little joke and put her hands on her hips.

With a resigned shrug he pulled on a blouse and noticed that the buttons were on the wrong side. Then he found a skirt and pulled out the hanger.

"It's too cold to go without underwear," she commented, so he picked a pair of knickers and drew them on.

'This is ridiculous,' he thought as he buttoned the skirt and found a pair of brogue shoes that did not pinch.

"That's better," she said with a laugh. "You look quite sweet in that skirt. All you need is this jacket..."

She pulled a jacket from its hanger and handed it to him.

"Follow me," she said. "I have loads to do today, the wood needs chopping, while its wet, and the pigs need their feed. You, on the other hand, can start here!"

She led him to the cupboard under the stair and pulled forth a duster.

"All you need is here, Georg," she chuckled. "Start on my bedroom and don't leave a corner untouched."

He looked doubtfully at the duster that she had handed him and gave her an enquiring look.

"You are going to give the house a spring clean in the next week," she said. "Dust pan and brush are here..."

She pointed to the cupboard.

"If you do a good job then here will be something of a reward," she pouted and blew a kiss. "I will teach you how to do a proper job and you will help me get the house in order."

Georg looked down at the skirt and hoped that she would not notice the bump on the cloth that showed that he was ready for far more than housework. She followed his gaze and laughed.

"That will come later, my little helper. We will take the afternoon off and practice some other activities that I also need help with!"

"I'd better get started then."

"Begin in my bedroom," she said seriously. "You have the whole morning to get it cleaned up, change the sheets, dust and take down the curtains. If you do it well I have a small surprise for you."

With that she turned and began to pull on her boots. She slipped the cape over her shoulders and left Georg to do her bidding.

Georg resigned himself to being her maid for the moment and began to clean. In true German fashion he was thorough and exacting. It was not difficult, just boring really. Dust lay on every surface and needed a damp cloth so he went to the kitchen to find one. As he did so he heard her re-enter the house and join him.

"Not too wet," she commented as she made him wring the cloth. "Now go and finish up for an hour and then we'll have some lunch.

He went up the stairs, being careful because the hem of the skirt was narrow and demanded small steps.

The next hour dragged as he wiped down every surface. That left just the bed to be stripped and the curtains to be taken down. Dust, thrown into the air by the duster, settled slowly on every surface making his work with the damp cloth wasted effort.

At last she came to survey his work.

With a critical eye she tested the surfaces and noted all the dust.

"It's not good enough, Georg. It's just not good enough," she said with hands on hips. "You have had four hours in this room and it is scarcely better than when you started! The bed and curtains are not done and there is still dust everywhere. I know that I may seem that I am demanding, but I do have the right to expect that you can do the job properly!"

"I'm sorry, Mary. I did it in the wrong order and the dust got everywhere again."

She smiled at his apology and then turned to leave the room.

"Now for something to eat!"

Georg followed her to the kitchen to find piles of potatoes and vegetables lying on the table.

"Peel them all, not too much taken off, mind," she said. "Chop the vegetables and light the range. "I'll be back to supervise you in a few minutes."

With that she left the kitchen and Georg heard her leave the house.

'I'm turning into a maid or butler,' he thought as he started his task.

Mary returned and looked with disapproval at his work.

"I said that you should not peel so deep," she said as she hefted a potato in her hand. "Why did you chop them up? I don't remember telling you chop them, really!"

"I thought," said Georg, "that was the right thing to do."

"What I tell you to do is the right thing to do," she said crossly. "Look at the mess that your skirt is in, now that will need to wash this too in the afternoon."

Georg looked at the floor and wondered if he could do anything right.

"Well we'll just have to make do," she said as she took down some pans and filled them from the well bucket.

Under her instruction Georg prepared their meal while Mary sat and watched him work.

"It's so nice having a man around," she said as he served the food and cut the bread the way that she told him to. "It will make my life so much easier."

He was about to start eating when she held up her hand.

"You eat when I am finished, then you clean up and join me in your bedroom," she ordered. "Make sure you do a proper job, mind, and put everything back in its place before you come up."

Georg watched her eat.

Slowly and neatly with seeming enjoyment at the taste of the plain repast. Finally she was finished and laid her fork neatly by the plate.

She stood and stretched and then said: "You can eat now, when you are ready, come upstairs!"

Georg ate. The dry starch of the potatoes and the bland vegetables filled but there was no pleasure in the meal. What sustained him was the thought that Mary was waiting upstairs on his bed for his attention. With a sigh he stood and then cleaned up the kitchen to her rigorous instructions.

Finally he took off his skirt and shook it to rid it of all of the dust before putting it back on and heading to his bedroom.