War Of The Worlds II - Part 7 free porn video

Part 7 - Life and Love in the Hospital

 I awoke to find myself in the arms of my beloved, similarly naked, pressed into my side with one leg cocked over mine. In my unconscious slumber state it would have been easy to equate her eager warm embrace with the constriction of an alien tentacle. It was obvious that there had been a very good reason for dreaming of the manipulations of said tentacle as well.   

The intimate feel of waking up next to a loved one was something I had not felt for a dozen years or so and put a smile on my face. Her warmth, the feel of her breasts against my side, her heated moistness against my thigh and the feeling of being recently drained filled me with a warm feeling of utter contentment and a total and complete faith that there could be absolutely nothing wrong in this big wide world. If I had died at that instance I would have accepted it with the utmost peace.   

Unfortunately almost instantly reality filtered through my sated dreamlike repose. If only faith were as truth. I removed myself carefully from my darlings embrace trying not to disturb her, well aware that she also had been awake long hours and working in a most strenuous job well outside her area of expertise. I was incredibly proud of her - she was showing herself to be an absolute trooper.   

I sneaked out of bed without waking her and splashed cold water on my face, washed the dried white seminal fluid from all over and looked around for my previously discarded clothes without luck. Surgeons greens would have to do me for now. I guessed that someone would be scrubbing the blood out of my clothes in one of the subterranean levels. I did however find my shoes of which I was most glad - good, solid handmade shoes would likely be hard to find for the foreseeable future.   

I found a small room where I could look out into the darkness and get some idea of the extent of the damage. Big Bens clock tower was flattened. Westminster Bridge had borne the brunt of its collapse and the far end was impassable. Three downed Martian vessels were visible in the wreckage from my limited viewpoint. The House of Commons smoked, the light from small fires still visible in its blackened granite husk. The cradle of modern day democracy was no more.   

Both of the stolen black alien vessels were visible, still animate, guarding our hospital. I later found out that Bernhardt had helped out by taking shifts in the spider vessel to allow the two artillery men to have breaks and function more efficiently. He had even brought down the third of the alien craft. He was well versed in military vehicles and had picked up the controls easily - some people have that kind of brain.   

There were fires and smoke as far as the eye could see. London was in ruins - so much more so than after the previous rout. Then we had run away and been followed - this time we had stood and fought. And fought hard. Many had laid down their lives in defence of their country. The Martians had to stop and fight for every street as they made their way across the city - though their tactics, dispersing their troops across the city and surrounding countryside instead of landing in only one location, had helped their cause. They had left us no time to get large scale defences ready, and multiple small defences were easier to defeat for the technologically advanced armies. An intense sense of weariness weighed heavily on my shoulders, but we were not defeated yet.   

I went and found the staff canteen. Thankfully there appeared to be a steady supply of good strong Typhoo tea. Nothing helped the weary quite like a good cup of tea.   

And, thank the Lord, there were bountiful amounts of bacon sandwiches.   

I hadn't realised just how hungry I was until that first smell of fried bacon assailed my senses. I wolfed down two sandwiches almost without breathing out. Oh, that crispy, salty goodness!   

It seemed that the story of the Doctor and the Contessa who had dropped everything on their wedding night and come to help had got out, because there were nudges and smiles and nods all around as I devoured my breakfast. I must admit that I did enjoy the attention, even though glad that they respected my personal space.   

With a small satisfied grin on my face I took a big metal mug of strong white tea and a fresh bacon butty back to my beloved. People were moving around quietly in our dorm, a constant changeover of bed-seekers and back-to-workers.   

I placed the butty under the Contessa's nose and wafted the smell towards her. I smiled as her nose twitched and then automatically inhaled the aroma deeply. She sighed as she exhaled, and I realised that this was the first time we had shared a bed, even a makeshift one, the first time I had watched her sleep. The world around me seemed to disappear as I sat cross-legged on the floor and watched her, struck once more by her natural beauty.   

The bacon worked its magic. I watched her eyes start to move under her eyelids as if dreaming, and a smile spread across her face. She sighed, and said in a small voice, "That had better be for me, or you're in big trouble." Her left eye opened slightly, trying to focus on me. The smile intensified. "My beautiful husband with a bacon 'sarnie' for me. Is that right?"   

I nodded with a smile and she continued in a conspiratorial tone, "I am ravenous. It may not be my first choice of meat to be filled with this morning, but it'll do to start with... to get my strength up." She winked at me, and I must confess I blushed as my arousal made itself abundantly clear through my greens. She giggled, and then delicately nibbled at the bacon which stuck out of the side of the bread without breaking eye contact. Her tongue played along her lips, mopping up every vestige of pork fat and grease and bread crumbs. I was also intensely aware that she was teasing me, and I couldn't look away. I was vaguely aware of the comings and goings around us, but was pleasantly astounded when the door to our small ward was clicked closed and there were only the two of us left in what was as near to silence as could be expected in a working hospital. It was obvious that our fellow workers were deliberately giving us space.   

"I want to know more about you," she said in between slowly masticating and sipping on the milky tea. "Tell me about yourself while I eat my breakfast."  

"What do you want to know?" I asked.   

"Well, eventually, everything. You know how I lost mine because you were there, so let's start with - how did you lose your virginity?"  

"With a woman? I was seventeen," I started. "With the new school nurse at the boarding school I had been at since I was six."  

"Mmmmm naughty boy! An old matronly school nurse? How did you manage that?"  

I laughed. "You're almost right - the previous nurse had been about sixty, or at least that's how it seemed to us. She'd been at the school forever. But her husband came down with TB and she left to look after him or else I don't doubt she'd still be there. So they had to find a replacement. Enter the wonderful Nurse Chapman, twenty four years old, from County Cork, wonderfully red haired and pale skinned, heavily freckled, she could not have filled her nurses outfit better had she tried."   

I sighed in memory of how enamoured we had all been with our new nurse, remembering the frantic bouts of late night masturbatory antics which had taken place in the dorms upon her arrival. She had taken over from Nurse Wayne as the only female in the school, and had been light years ahead in the pubescent masturbation stakes.  

I realised that I had stopped talking, cleared my throat and started again. "A buxom hourglass figure, she regularly didn't button her uniform right to the stiff collared throat whilst in her own domain, and there were rumours of intimate lace being seen by pupils. Whether or not it was true I don't know, but it certainly made those pupils popular as they were cross examined for every discernible detail." We both laughed at that.   

"So how did you...?" she asked before sensuously sucking the last of the grease from each of her fingers.   

"Rugby," I stated as if that should tell her everything there was to know. I paused briefly to make her think she was getting nothing more, then continued. She mouthed the word 'tease' at me as I spoke.   

"It was the Saturday morning just before Easter break of my last year. The school had cleared out apart from the first XV who were playing a postponed game against St. Aloysius'. I scored the winning try in the last minute of a very ill natured game, but as I dived across the line I was hit by a tackle from the side and pulled a groin muscle badly."  

"Ouch," the Contessa said in sympathy.   

"Exactly. I needed help to hobble off the pitch as a fist fight broke out but was then left to my own devices as my teammates went to join in. I was in such pain that I did worry in my naïvety that my manhood had suffered irreparable damage. Instead of heading back to the changing room I hobbled painfully across to the schools main building, hoping that Nurse Chapman hadn't already left for the holidays. I was fortunate - she was tidying up some last minute items, and spotted me out of her window."

I smiled at the memory of her coming out to meet me, a look of genuine concern on her face, and giving me a shoulder to lean on as we made our way to the small infirmary. "She was not in her normal schoolday uniform that day, but was instead in a more casual attire - clearly showing off her impressive bosom in a tight fitting blouse, hair down over her shoulders rather than up in her school uniform bun - she had obviously thought there would be no need for her services. In my pain I thought what a waste the sight was, because I was in so much pain that I couldn't enjoy the almost instant erection that I would normally associate with such a wondrous sight."  

"Poor Franklin," the Contessa said, with a sarcastic look, knowing as she did that this was a story about a seventeen year old virgin losing his virginity. I laughed.   

She edged closer to me, smiling, enjoying the sharing of intimacies and the chance to be alone.   

"So, come on," she said. "Get with the juicy details." Her tongue flicked across her lips.   

"Okay - she examined the area thoroughly in case there was bone damage - which there wasn't , thankfully - manipulating the pelvic joint, and then recommended ice and a deep muscle massage. She got a muslin cloth and several large chunks of ice from her medical freezer, and had me hold them to the injury, while she went to deal with the half dozen boys who had turned up at her office with a variety of cuts and bruises and scrapes from the fight which had broken out. Thankfully my skipper had also thought to send my clothes and bag over."  

The Contessa crawled towards me like a cat, leaving the blankets behind, her beautiful olive skinned nakedness mesmerising. I felt a twinge, and the rueful smirk told me that it had been spotted through the thin green garments that I wore.   

I leaned forward and my beautiful wife moved up to kiss me. I wrapped her naked body in my arms and gave in to the sensuality of her lips, sensing the rhythms of her heartbeat and breathing, the taste of her tongue, the sight of her brown nipples swelling with her desire, the smell of her skin infused with her intimate longing and the feel of her lustrous hair as I ran my fingers through it and then down her smooth warm back. A kiss is never just a kiss, unless you're doing it wrong.   

When finally we came up for air I continued with my reminiscing.   

"She got rid of the other boys fairly quickly with iodine and bandages, then returned to me. I had started shivering from the cold ice being applied for longer than planned. Worried about possible shock seeping in, Nurse Chapman decided that the best course of action was to lie beside me on the examination table and share our body heat. She was still fully dressed, but it still excited me greatly having her breasts squeezed up against my back.   

"Very quickly I realised that my manhood wasn't broken after all," I said with a grin.   

"Tell me, beloved," my gorgeous wife asked, "when you mention your manhood are you talking about your sense of being a man, or are you talking about your handsome cock?" So asking she slipped her hand inside my greens and stroked me with featherlight fingertips.   

I hadn't realised until that moment just how incredibly arousing basic agricultural language could be coming from the beautifully accented lips of European royalty. I must have blushed once more - the Contessa laughed at me. "Cock," she said once more, and squeezed my testes lightly. My eyes closed and my head rolled back.   

She withdrew her hand. "No, no, Doctor, you don't get away like that. Story," she commanded in a voice which was used to being obeyed.   

I opened my eyes and blinked at her. Several times. "Don't tease me, wife," I said slowly, emphasising each word, noting the glint of mischief playing over her face.   

"Or?" she challenged.   

"Or I'll have to punish you. You may be a Contessa, but I am still your husband, and our wedding vows state that you have to obey me," I stated matter-of-factly.   

She didn't even get to the end of the 'Really?' that was forming on her lips before she was flipped over my knees and a resounding 'smack' sounded as my hand met her beautiful round olive coloured naked backside.   

There was an exclamation of shock from her and she struggled before I struck her bare arse again. This time there was a yelp followed by a slight moan. I held her down with my left arm, but there was noticeably less struggle. I struck her a third time, to a moan which turned into a sigh. I forced my hand down between her closed thighs which instantly opened for me. She was already well lubricated, but it was my turn to tease - it was my turn for feather light fingers, and blowing cool air across her hot, rosy buttocks.   

I continued talking while I teased, her sensual moans turning to frustration and eventually to purrs. But I wasn't going to stop teasing nor spanking her any time soon.   

I took my time telling her in detail of how Nurse Chapman asked if I was feeling stiff. I had stuttered, flustered, not entirely sure what to say. Then I decided to grab the proverbial bull by the horns. Faint heart never won fair lady, as the saying goes. And seldom got laid either, I imagined.   

I had cleared my throat. 'Yes,' I had said. 'Very stiff and positively aching - I believe you said I might need a good massage,' I said, trying to sound affirmative and in control.   

By this stage the only shivering I was doing was with anticipation, not cold, but Nurse Chapman had kept on holding me tight. She took my hand and, putting her hand in mine, bade me show her where the ache was. I moved her hand down. 'This is the stiff bit all down here, and these are absolutely aching. In fact I'm worried they might explode.'  

I removed my hand, but Nurse Chapman left hers where it was. 'I'm afraid you're right, I can feel them positively throbbing.' She had squeezed gently and I was immediately worried that I would ejaculate forthwith. Thankfully I didn't, but I had moaned loudly. 

'Mmmm they are obviously causing a great discomfort,' she had said. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a closer examination.'  

So saying she climbed down off the table and told me to join her. She had me take off my rugby strip and stand there. She noticed my blush as I removed my shorts and jock-strap and apologised for the embarrassment, then offered to balance the equation my discarding some of her own clothes to make me more comfortable. I really wanted to be a gentleman and tell her that there was no need, but I was seventeen and she was hot and pulling her blouse out of her skirt and unbuttoning it revealing the most enticing ivory lace camisole. This was not a woman who had ever entertained the need for a corset, and nor did she need to. She had removed her blouse and hung it over the back of her chair. It's no surprise that the words had stuck in my throat.   

She looked at me, then down at herself. Not balanced enough. Not even nearly. Next she unbuttoned her skirt and and underskirt, stepped out of them and folded them neatly atop her blouse. She had turned back to me, the most amazing, sexual creature I had ever had the good fortune to witness in my seventeen years on this earth.   

She seemed to move in slow motion as my brain tried to capture every iota of her shape and form to store away for future mental recovery. I knew even then that this morning would fuel many a nocturnal masturbation session, both frantic and long and slow.   

Time appeared to move at half speed. Her red wavy hair swished in slow motion, the spring sunlight streaming in through the window lighting it up from behind like flames. Aspects of her lace camisole glistered like gold. And now down below her waist I clearly saw unfeasibly small, tight ivory satin knickers. I had always imagined that all girls wore navy pants like gym shorts, and all women wore bloomers. How wrong I was!   She wore a suspender belt and stockings and high heeled buckled red shoes to finish off the most erotic of looks.   

It was in that second when she bit her bottom lip that I knew this was actually going to happen. Then she slowly peeled off her camisole, exposing her large breasts, replete with sizable dark pink areola and nice erect nipples. Her breasts wobbled like the most delicious blancmanges when her arms came back down.   

She stood for a few seconds comparing us once more, then stepped out of her knickers. It was the first time I ever saw a full bush, and the sight has lived with me every since. I had swallowed hard. This was really going to happen.  

The stockings and suspenders were left on, another perennial favourite, and I was asked if that was fair. I nodded nervously, having been more than happy two items of clothing previously. Then I cleared my throat and thanked Nurse Chapman for helping me get over my initial embarrassment.   

I'm sure that she saw through my bluff and bluster. She grinned. 'Now,' she had said, 'let's have a look at your injury.' So saying she had knelt before me, scant inches from my throbbing .... cock.   

I wasn't sure if I was allowed to look down or stand to attention, eyes front, as per our cadet parades. I went with the latter initially, but not for very long.   

'Hmmm you're right. There is a great deal of stiffness in this,' she had said, glancing up at me. 'Let's see if a little manual manipulation helps the situation.'  

I stopped a second in my narrative to spank the Contessa and ease two fingers slowly into her, and then rotate them back and fore. Her breath was getting shallower and quicker. "You are not allowed release until I give you permission, wife," I informed her. I smiled at the impatient whimper that I received in return. I withdrew my fingers and spanked her once more. I knew she was close, I could feel it through our intimate bond, though not to the same extent that I had in the Abbey. And I knew that she could feel me in the same way, much as I was describing myself in my narrative - stiff, erect and throbbing.   

I told her how Nurse Chapman had taken my manhood in one hand and my testes in the other 'to monitor the throbbing', and had started manipulating me with long, slow strokes, looking between where she was rubbing and my face. I looked down and saw her lick her lips.   

'I wonder if some lubrication would help matters,' she muttered before working up some saliva in her mouth and dribbling it onto the crown of my penis. 'Hmmm, this throbbing is increasing,' she said. She didn't need to tell me, I was well aware.   

'I think this lubrication is working well, it's not easing the stiffness, but maybe a constant supply might help,' she had said, looking up into my eyes for permission. I couldn't speak, my mouth was so dry, but I had managed to nod.   

She had licked her lips and touched them to my crown, then slowly opened her mouth and slid it down my whole length, keeping eye contact the whole time. Then her tongue had flicked out and caressed my scrotum.   

I make no excuses - I was seventeen years old and was being actively seduced by what was the most vital and amazing and beautiful woman in my life at that point. It's no wonder that with one firm squeeze of her hand I was no longer in control of myself. With difficulty I managed to stay on my feet, but I couldn't help but take a step back, withdrawing completely from her mouth and discharging all over her face and lips and outstretched tongue and throat and breasts.   

I was mortified! but the smile on Nurse Chapman lips as she licked them, and then hoisted each breast in turn to lick them clean of my discharge told me that I had no need to be.   

I was aware that my testicles still nestled in Nurse Chapmans hand. 'How's that ache? That certainly seems to have helped the throbbing. What about the sti...' she had smiled from ear to ear. 'There appears to be no discernible difference in the stiffness you are exhibiting. I think we're going to have to try another method.'  

So saying she had stood up, taken me in hand and led me back to the examination table. I watched her buttocks sway with a large degree of fascination, her smooth pale Irish skin with her wavy red hair coming to down past her waist. I had to remember to breathe. She could have led me in that manner through St. Paul's Easter Mass had she so chosen.   

That was where I had lost my virginity - on the examination table, holding my breath as Nurse Chapman held my erection and slowly impaled herself on it. It was an amazing sight for a seventeen year old lad to watch himself disappear into such an amazing place. I had no idea just how hot and slick it would be, and just how much internal muscle control there could be. I had never even imagined in my nocturnal fantasies just how tightly I could be gripped at will. Nor the range of muscular interplays a woman could have. Not just squeezing or pulsing around my rigid adolescent erection, but squeezing up and down it, as if stroking me with her vaginal wall. It was and is such a wonderful feeling.   

I guess I have Nurse Chapman to thank for my eventual move into the medical field where I ended up. There was not an ounce of stress in Nurse Chapman, but then she did manage nine orgasms all told in that session, so it was no wonder she was good and relaxed at the end of it. In fact even during the most hectic of times I don't believe I ever saw her stressed.   

She introduced me to many and varied positions that day and on several occasions after, well beyond my pubescent fantasies. Her on top / me on top / up against the wall / face to face / face to back / face to genitals /wheelbarrows / doggy / soft and gentle kissing / hard aggressive slapping - she lead me to start with, then encouraged me to explore. Most of those positions have remained unvisited since those days - I certainly hoped that my new wife would be accepting of testing out some variety.   

She had introduced me to her clitoris at one point, very formally. 'Master Stein, I would very much like to introduce you to my clitoris,' she said, adding 'It gives me great pleasure.' I laughed a great deal at that, which released a lot of tension too.   

After my overly quick primary release, I managed to last well over ninety minutes before my secondary. By this time we were both bathed in sweat, absolutely exhausted, and Nurse Chapman had managed six orgasms to my two. Not that we stopped there.   

As I was describing each position in turn to the Contessa I had to hold her down to stop her writhing about. My teasing was merciless, taking her up to the edge of her release and then withdrawing my touch. Our connection meant that I could time this to perfection.   

The Contessa was actively panting by this stage. "I want to try all positions with you my darling husband," she said between desperate breaths. "Master Stein - I like that. Master... My Master..."  

This time I didn't keep her on edge, instead I held her down, added an additional red handprint to her delightful arse and then worked her clitoris and g-spot to at least five orgasmic releases, one after the other. I lost count at five. I didn't allow our connection to get its grip too hard, because I needed to be in charge. I needed to be selfless - and merciless.   

Damn right she knew who was in charge now. When I let her up eventually there were tears streaming down her face, as well as her delicious fluids all down her thighs. But there was a smile of untold serenity as well. I hugged her and kissed her. I stroked her hair and told her in soothing tones how much I loved her. It took around fifteen minutes before she came down from the spiritual high that she had reached, before she could hug me back and return my kisses.   

I will always remember the first words she uttered when finally she got her voice back.   

"I hope that heaven is as good as that," she said. "Could life get any better?"   

--------  

Apparently not that day. Nor for many more after that.   

I was put mostly on amputations, as I had shown my proficiency. Life turned into a procession of putrid limbs and a foetid miasma from every kind of bodily fluid. There was a constant atmosphere of fear, tempered by the knowledge that we were making a difference to the people of London.   

We banded together as a team, both within the theatre and the hospital as a whole. And as a team we looked after each other. It was not unknown for someone who came into my theatre after abusing staff to exit with less appendages than they might have expected. And it was generally one specific appendage. Perhaps this was not strictly in line with the Hypocratic Oath which doctors sign, but once word got out it was amazing how quickly the waiting room regained a sense of order, and the physical and verbal abuses of staff stopped.   

The hectic life of a hospital in a city under siege meant that I did not see the Contessa in more than passing for almost a week. Each of us had our individual duties and moved about as we were required, from wing to wing, theatre to theatre, ward to ward.   

------  

We continually heard stories from outside the walls. The heroism of the Londoners, both individually and collectively, will go down in history.  

The only person who deserves a prize more than the heroes on the ground is whoever it was that invented dynamite. It was a godsend to the local defenders. Small boys as young as eight years old were trained to scurry through the rubble while the enemy was distracted and tie sticks of the explosive to the legs of the alien tripods. As anyone who has sat on a broken barstool knows - once one leg goes it is impossible for it to keep its balance. The machines fell and the Londoners would then fall without mercy on the invaders. I even heard that braised Martian cooked in white wine and seasoned with sage was becoming a bit of a delicacy in the underground shelters where hundreds of thousands still cowered, but at least survived - waiting on a brave new day.   

We heard tell of a new technique that our brave defenders invented across in Kensington.   

The young lads were having a hell of a time getting close to the tripods, so they needed a new distraction. After the animals in Regents Park Zoo were set free to fend for themselves it was noticed that the Martians were not in the least interested in them. The animals generally steered clear of them, and they in turn left the animals unhindered. It appeared that they only saw us humans as a threat, and a meal.   

Over in Kensington there was located the magnificent Natural History Museum, which housed thousands of stuffed animals from all over the globe - from the Tundras of the Arctic to the savanna's of the African continent to the outbacks of Australia.   

It was not unknown to see a lion or penguin or even giraffe wandering almost drunkenly around the streets being ignored by the towering tripods. These would in fact be merely the hides taken from the museum, now used as a disguise for one or two of the locals. In the case of the giraffe they also needed two people who could walk on stilts.   

This enabled our brave men and women to get behind the tripods safely, whereby they could set their dynamite charges and take out the enemy. This was an unexpected success, and earned its own unofficial name, taken from the first animals hide that was used.   

Hence was born Gorilla Warfare.