Anthea s baby 1
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The Crossing - Part 8 free porn video
My name is Paul Ripley. Having escaped from a PoW camp in in Nazi
Germany, I had taken on the identity of a dead woman and now found
myself the girlfriend of Count Helmut von Rumstahl. He wanted to take
our relationship to the next stage, and I was running out of excuses not
to.
THE CROSSING - part 8
by BobH
(c) 2015
- 19 -
"Mmmm, I've always loved how it feels when I run my hand up a stockinged
leg," said Helmut, as he did just that, his hand travelling up under my
dress, along my leg, and coming to rest just above the top of the
stocking, on my naked thigh.
Earlier we had shared an intimate dinner in the dining room, just the
two of us, as we had so often recently (Gerda having suffered a
suspicious increase in the number of her evening house calls patients).
Afterwards we had retired to the family lounge where Helmut was now
sitting in one of the high backed leather chairs and I was sitting in
his lap.
"I love how it feels when you do that too," I purred as he fondled my
thigh, all the while wondering how to extricate myself before things
went any further.
While I desired them no more than I ever had, I'd at least grown used to
our hugs and kisses. I knew Helmut wanted more, and why wouldn't he? He
believed me to be as committed to this relationship as he was, having no
idea I was only acting. Had I been female I could have claimed I wasn't
that sort of girl, that I wanted to save myself for my wedding night,
but that excuse wouldn't wash with us. I had to slow things down if I
could. Which might be difficult. Sitting in Helmut's lap like this it
was impossible to miss how interested in me he was. To paraphrase Mae
West, that wasn't a gun in his pocket, and he was definitely happy to
see me.
"Sorry about this," I said, leaping to my feet, "but I need to tinkle."
I dashed out of the room and into one of the ground floor toilets,
locking the door behind me and letting out a deep sigh of relief. I
needed to break the mood. Hopefully this would do the trick. I gave it a
few minutes before returning.
"I think I need to retire now," I announced as I re-entered the room.
Helmut stood up and offered me his arm.
"Of course," he said, smiling.
I took his arm, not sure how to interpret that smile. Did he think this
was an invitation? When we reached my room, I turned at the door, put my
hands on his chest, and smiled up at him.
"Thank you for a lovely evening," I said, "but I really am tired."
He looked disappointed for a moment, then he smiled and took me in his
arms.
"I understand," he said.
We kissed - a long, lingering kiss that I leaned into. Let that be his
consolation prize, I thought. We said our goodnights and I entered my
room, alone. Collapsing onto my dressing table chair, I stared at my
reflection ruefully. I always used to think it strange that women would
refer to doing their make-up as "putting on my face", but I understood
it all too well now. I was Paul Ripley, but the face in the mirror
belonged to my creation (or recreation) Eva Schumacher. When wearing
make-up, my face was her face. It was a face I wore more hours every day
than I did my own. I rubbed cold cream into that face, wiping it away
with a towel to reveal my unadorned features. Paul Ripley was back. Or
was he?
Just as film actors often find it useful to stay 'in character' between
scenes so I was staying in character to the extent of still walking like
a woman and using feminine gestures in private. These had been drilled
into Alec Delon and me back at the PoW camp when we were rehearsing
plays, drilled into us to the extent that we could both slip into them
effortlessly when playing women. Because my life might depend on it I
couldn't risk a mistake, so I now used those moves and gestures full
time. What worried me was that if this masquerade went on much longer I
might have to relearn how to move and gesture like a man. Same with my
voice. I didn't have the deepest of voices anyway, but I'd practiced and
practiced so that it sounded natural when I spoke in a female register,
and I hadn't used my male voice since I got to the castle.
Standing and unhooking my dress, I let it slip down my body and stepped
out of it, staring down at myself in my female underwear. When I started
wearing them, stockings and a garter belt had felt really odd. Now that
I wore them every day they felt...normal. They say you can get used to
almost anything. Which worried me a lot. By the time this was over, just
what might I have gotten used to, I wondered? Sighing, I sat down on the
edge of the bed, rubbing my temples as I contemplated my situation.
The role of spy had been thrust upon me and I had accepted it, but I
wasn't any spy I could ever have imagined being when I was a young boy.
Back then I'd loved tales of derring-do about those who had taken part
in the Great War, revelling in their exploits. My hero had been Albert
Ball of the Royal Flying Corps, but I'd also thrilled to the adventures
of Reilly, the Ace of Spies. Amazingly, I'd become both an aviator and a
spy. Unfortunately the spy I'd become wasn't Sidney Reilly. It was Mata
Hari.
The following day was a Friday, the first one in September. Come
lunchtime I took my place at my favourite table outside the cafe on the
village square, as I always did. Having risen late I'd missed both
Helmut and Gerda at breakfast, which may have been just as well as I was
a bit under the weather and didn't feel much like indulging in small
talk. I was still feeling a little rough now, so I was glad for the
soothing effect of Franz's coffee. The poetry book with the red cover
was out on the table and clearly visible to anyone watching. This time
that agreed signal brought Mark Benton to the table behind mine within
five minutes. It was a fortnight since I'd seen him last, under very
different circumstances.
"Glad you're not trying to give me a heart attack this time," I
whispered, though thanks to my sore throat it was as much a croak as a
whisper.
"I've already apologised for that," he whispered back. "I know I
shouldn't have surprised you, but I had no opportunity to warn you
beforehand."
Too bloody right he shouldn't have. When I heard footsteps coming
towards me in the secret passage I thought I was a goner. My relief on
seeing it was Benton was only equalled by my surprise. I'd locked the
door to my room, closed the panel that gave entry to the passage, and
believed no one else in the castle knew of its existence. Benton knew of
course because I'd told him all about it during our first meeting in the
village. His cover was as a handyman who could fix things, and it turned
out that the castle had some things that needed fixing. He had been
hired to do so and, on gaining access to the castle, had decided to
check out the secret passage I'd told him about. Using lock picks to get
into my room, he'd gone straight to my closet. He hadn't expected to
encounter me in the secret passage, but I was at least able to pass on
what I'd learned about the damage done during the RAF raid on
Peenem?nde.
"Did you get to explore much of the castle after slipping out of my
room?" I asked.
"I found out some of what I needed to know," he said, "and I'll find out
the remainder on future call outs. But never mind that; why did you want
to meet?"
"I've managed to piece together a lot of stuff from hours of listening
to the Count's side of phone conversations over the past two weeks," I
said, "and this is what I've learned. When the RAF bombed Peenem?nde we
targeted not one site but two. At some point before the start of the
war, the joint command in charge of operations on the Northern peninsula
of Usedom was split in two. The Army Research Centre Peenem?nde which
had responsibility for the V-2, the ballistic rocket, was run by the
Wehrmacht, while Peenem?nde West was where the Luftwaffe flight tested
its experimental aircraft, including the V-1 flying bomb and a rocket-
fighter being developed by Messerschmitt."
"A rocket-fighter?" said Benton, sounding startled. "My God, they're
years ahead of us! If any of these things get into production...."
"It gets worse. Following our raid they obviously realised the danger of
keeping all their eggs in one basket. The very next day the unit working
on the rocket-fighter moved out southwards to a base at Anklam, near the
Baltic coast. This is apparently only temporary and they're expecting to
move on. I don't know where to. Similarly, the manufacturing of V-2's is
being moved elsewhere, although testing and launching will remain at
Peenem?nde for the moment. Then there's the V-1. In the wake of our
raid, flight testing was moved to Br?sterort. Next month construction is
due to begin on launch sites for the V-1 in Northern France. These will
be sited along the coast from Calais to Le Havre. The V-1 hasn't been
perfected yet, but when it is they want those launch sites up and ready
to use for attacks on Britain."
"Bugger me!" said Benton. It was the first time I'd ever heard him
swear.
He digested what I'd told him for a minute or so, then asked me a
question I didn't really have an answer for.
"So the Count," he said, "how is it he appears to be working for both
the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe groups at Peenem?nde when his friend von
Braun isn't?"
"I don't honestly know," I replied. "His rocket knowledge has obvious
application to that fighter, but the V-1 appears to be powered by some
sort of ram-jet, which is very different technology. The Count is non-
military, so I suspect that allows both groups to use him as a
consultant. Although thinking about it some more, the thing that might
make him most useful to them is having Hitler's ear. Access to the
Fuehrer is both difficult to obtain for those not in the inner circle
and highly-prized. Having the Count able to lobby him on your behalf
would be no small thing."
"Hmm. Makes sense. Well done, Ripley. I'll get all this off to London
tonight. Are you all right, by the way? You sound a bit rough."
"I'm definitely coming down with something. It's an early night for me,
I think."
By the time I got back to the castle I was feeling feverish and
everything ached. I encountered Helga on the stairs.
"Please inform the Count I'm feeling unwell and will not be down to
dinner this evening," I told the maid.
"Very good, milady. Shall I ask Dr von Rumstahl to come and see you?"
"Yes, thank you," I said, remembering this was the day Gerda put aside
for paperwork and so she was actually in the castle.
By the time I reached my room I barely had the strength to remove my
make-up, strip off my clothes, and slide under the sheets. No sooner had
I done so than there was a knock on the door.
"May I come in?" It was Gerda.
"Please do," I croaked.
She came over to me, carrying her medical bag, and laid her hand on my
forehead, then on the side of my neck.
"Hmmm," she said, "you're running a fever and your glands are swollen.
Let's check your temperature."
She popped a thermometer in my mouth, frowning at the reading.
"I think you've picked up a 24-hour bug," she said. "Nothing serious,
but it's bed rest and hot drinks for you for tonight and tomorrow. I'll
have Helga bring you something."
"Thank you, Gerda," I said.
She smiled, gave my shoulder a squeeze, then left. No sooner had she
done so than I turned over and fell into a deep sleep.
- 20 -
The next morning someone brought me breakfast in bed. To my surprise it
was Helmut. He laid the tray down on the bedside table, then leaned down
and kissed me on the forehead.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern in his voice.
"Dire," I replied, "and too feeble to get out of bed."
"You don't have to," he said.
He then lifted me into a sitting position in the bed, placing pillows
behind me.
"Gerda recommended hot broth and coffee," he said, picking up a bowl and
spoon from the tray, "now open up."
He fed the broth to me, and I have to admit it did make me feel better.
I watched his face carefully as he did so, marvelling at how solicitous
he was being. He surely had more important calls on his time, yet here
he was. I'd assumed his feelings towards me were mainly lustful, but
this was more evidence he was beginning to care for me in a way I had
been refusing to admit to myself, perhaps scared by the very idea. Lust
was one thing but love, or feelings that could easily grow to be love,
was a whole lot more complicated thing to deal with.
When I was finished, he kissed me on the forehead again.
"Work beckons and I have to go now," he said. "If it didn't, I would not
leave your side. Gerda will be in to see you later. Sleep, and get
well."
After he'd gone I did indeed fall back to sleep, only to be woken a
couple of hours later when Gerda entered the room. She took my
temperature, checked my pulse, listened to my chest with her
stethoscope, and nodded.
"Looks like I was right. By this time tomorrow you should be mostly over
it."
"Thank you," I said.
"Which brings up something else. I'm the village doctor, and now that
you're living here you really need to be on my patient list. I should
have done this earlier, but what say I give you a full medical tomorrow
and get you registered?"
"Sounds good to me," I said.
I had no idea how long I'd be playing this role so I certainly needed to
be registered with a doctor. And given my anomalous, ah, 'gender
status', Gerda pretty much had to be that doctor.
"Then I'll need you ready and waiting for me when I return from morning
service tomorrow. You can wear a slip and some mules, but nothing else."
"OK," I said, not having the strength to argue even if I'd wanted to.
When Gerda left I once again fell into a deep sleep, not waking until
the middle of the following morning. Feeling considerably better, though
still a little fragile, I showered then donned a fresh silk slip and my
fluffy mules for Gerda's visit. I didn't have long to wait. As soon as
they got back from the church, she came to my room with her medical bag.
"How are you feeling today, Eva?" she asked.
"Much, much better, thank you."
"Good. Ready for your medical examination?"
"Yes. I'm waiting 'til it's done to get dressed, as you requested."
"Right, then let's get started.
What followed was the usual battery of simple tests we've all had
before, involving the use of a stethoscope, tongue depressor, knee
hammer, blood pressure tester, and whatever doctors call that thing they
use when they peer into your earhole.
Then she pulled on a rubber glove.
"Is that really necessary?" I asked, as she dipped her middle finger
into a small jar of some sort of lubricating cream.
"Yes, it really is," she said. "I want to be as thorough as possible.
Now bend over and don't tense up."
I did as she asked, wincing as she slid her finger inside me.
"You're a virgin!" she said, sounding surprised. I was, but how could
she tell from a rectal examination?
"Sorry?" I said, confused.
"From the tightness of your anus it doesn't appear as if you've let a
man have his way with you yet. Ah, that explains it!"
"Explains what?" I replied, wrong-footed by the turn the conversation
had taken.
"Why you're hesitating about taking the next step with Helmut, even
though you must want to. A lot of young girls feel that same
apprehension, so of course you would too."
Not knowing what to say to this, I simply nodded.
"My brother is a very manly man," Gerda continued, "and while you
couldn't help being aroused as your feminine nature responded to his
powerful maleness, you are still a virgin. And I understand. You crave
the sexual fulfilment he can give you while at the same time being
frightened by the strength of your reaction to his masculinity. It's
overwhelming and it's made you skittish. I should have realized that was
what was going on. It's a classic reaction."
"It is?"
"Oh yes."
She ran the back of her finger down my cheek and smiled at me
affectionately.
"You sweet child," she cooed. "Banish your fears because you have
nothing to worry about. Helmut may be very strong, very manly, but my
brother is also capable of great gentleness. When he deflowers you your
pleasure will be foremost in his mind. He'll make your body feel things
you didn't dream it was capable of feeling."
Oh no he bloody won't. He's never going to get the chance. If what Gerda
was saying had convinced me of one thing it had convinced me of this: it
was time for this charade to end.
"I brought along something I suspected you might need," said Gerda, "and
I'm glad to see I was right."
She fished a wooden box from her doctor's bag and handed it to me.
Inside the box were a number of polished wooden cylinders of some sort
with rounded ends, their diameter increasing as you moved from the left
hand side of the box to the right.
"What are they?"
"Anal plugs," replied Gerda. "If you want the experience to be
pleasurable for both of you when you and my brother have sex then you
need to gradually stretch that little anus of yours so that when the
time comes it can accept his penis without causing you discomfort.
That's what these were designed for."
"Thank you!" I said, forcing a smile. "That's very thoughtful of you."
"It's what friends are for," she said, giving me a sisterly hug. "When
you do have sex remember not to tense up when Helmut mounts you. Just
relax, follow his lead, and let nature take its course."
No bloody way was that happening. I needed Benton to get me out of here.
Which is how I came to meet with him again at the cafe the next day.
"It's only two days since our last meeting," whispered Benton, as he
took his place on the table behind mine, "what's so urgent it warrants
the risk of another so soon?"
"It's the Count," I whispered. "He wants to have sex with me and I can't
put him off much longer."
"Then don't. Just lie back and think of England."
"What?" I said, shocked. "What are you saying?"
"Look Ripley," he sighed, "agents in the field risk torture or death
every day. And sometimes they have to have sex with the enemy. It's
something our female agents accept as part of the job."
"But I'm not female!"
"So? Are you saying you're less capable than them, or that you shouldn't
face the same perils?"
"No, I...I..."
"Then what are you saying, Ripley? Are you man enough for this job or
aren't you? As far as I'm concerned this is a good thing. It helps both
your cover and the mission. Mata Hari got most of the secrets she
acquired during pillow talk, after all. So let's have no more of this.
And Ripley, don't contact me again until you have something important to
pass along."
He got up and left then, leaving me stunned. I departed the cafe soon
afterwards, my mind reeling. So Benton saw me as Mata Hari too, and he
expected me to go all the way. Back at the castle, I sat down on my bed
and with trembling fingers took the first of the plugs from the box
Gerda had left on my bedside table.
I stared at it for a very long time.
**********************
To be continued....
**********************
Notes:
1. Albert Ball, Sidney Reilly, and Mata Hari were all real people. If
you want to know more about them Google is your friend.
2. Either next episode or the one after will have to be X-rated, my
first ever. It will be interesting to see what this does to the hit
counter for that one.
Alessandra
- 08.10.2020
- 7
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