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My regiment had fought and died those days in early July, 1944. Yet when we finally entered Caen, tired half-starved people began to cheer. Not only that, a few brazen and obviously relieved civilians ventured forth and embraced and gave us hastily picked flowers. Many civilians were weeping, more were dazed from the fury of the fighting. I felt very inadequate, most of the rubble that was left of the city, had been massed bombed only the night before by the Allied airforce. The few men under my command gave their share of cigarettes and rations of food to the happy people. One young lad even handed me the head off a home made doll, I hadn't the heart to return it.

Our orders had come early that morning of the 9th, the Maquis, the French Resistance were leading us to the objective. The city offices. It was called "Operation Goodwood", or by us Canadians, "Operation Atlantic". The "Operation" seemed a very fancy word, in my little corner of the battle, I was given objectives. And every one I fought very hard for, we took. Yet as I walked through the rubble of the streets, looking upon the thousands of refugees and huddled persons in dark corners and under debris. My heart went out to them, was all this destruction worth the lives that was taken. Sure the allies had dropped leaflets to warn the city that it was about to be bombed, but even as I walk down the streets and across mounds that were once buildings, I often saw ugly grey bloated bodies. Once we passed an emergency hospital, set up in a monks' refectory, bodies were pilled outside it with little dignity, inside the dim and chaotic interior could just be made out. I was in hell!

Thankfully, the distance took little time. I stood behind a corner of a windowless building and followed the pointing finger of the Maquis guide. High in up in the building could just be seen the shadow of crouched figure, a barrel sticking out the door. A sniper! And no doubt, not alone. Unfortunately, most of the Division was sent to the suburbs were large pockets of German resistance held on. The average, sane infantryman hated door-to-door fighting. It was a dangerous, hellious type of fighting. So many obstacles, and around every corner could be a sniper or a company of men just waiting to kill. Damn I wished we had the armour that was promised us by the Brigade Commander.

I had five men left in my section, and sent two around to the right flank. I ordered two to wait and give cover fire as needed, along with our resistance friend who was more than happy with the prospect of killing Germans with his beat up Sten gun. Myself and Corporal Dickson would enter the building.

As soon as the two of us began to dart across the clearing I knew it was a mistake. I felt then heard the shots only when we were half way through the yard. I was grazed by two bullets, yet finally shot through the front door with barely a scratch. Looking behind me, I saw Corporal Dickson laying upon the cobblestones, dead. My men were returning fire, yet I held little faith in that .

I was alone, with an objective ahead of me. Yet a large part of me wanted to curl up into a ball and hide away. Thankfully my duty and the job held my sanity together. Through several messy rooms did I go. Moving double time, I quickly found a stair going up. That was when I got lost! The rooms became darker, the rooms tidier, yet still unclean. My body was exhausted, with my kit strapped to my back and the cumbersome rifle in my hands I soon had too stop to catch my breath. Somewhere above me someone was still firing. I had to get the sniper, it was either him or me.

As I stood catching my breath, I suddenly heard a couple of voices, speaking German, I caught only a word here and their, "mischbrot", "wurstchen", "kase". If I remember correctly, they were talking about food. Yet footsteps were coming closer. Frantically, I quickly ran into the suite of rooms I was standing next to. I found a locked door and effortlessly smashed through it. I stood facing the door I just came through, the broken lock hanging limply. I followed the sound of the voices as they went passed the place I had been standing. I heard them going up, their jack boots making harsh noises against the tile and wooden floors.

Taking a breath I was about to continue with my assignment. Then I heard something, more of a whimper. I spun around, my rife pointing towards the sound. I saw nothing but a large desk and several chairs and bookcases. But something had to be there!

Slowly with soft step, I came around the edge of the desk. My rifle pointing towards the hole under and behind the desk, the only logical place for a person to be. I hoped it was just a dog, or perhaps another type of animal that had crawled into that small hole. Yet I saw it! A shape! A huddled, dirty woman lay in the fetal position, her face hidden from me. What the hell was I to do? I bent down my face coming closer to the desk opening. She was shivering, perhaps in the damp morning air, or from fear. The woman only wore a thin summer dress and heels. What was she doing here?

With a gentle hand I placed my palm upon her arm hoping I could calm her. Here was a human being, someone that had been tormented by the German occupation and by the Allied air strikes, how did I imagine I could calm her. I was cover in combat gear, not a very calming sight I'm sure. I felt her warm soft skin and she stopped shivering.

"Mlle, are you all right?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I felt sick, I did not want to be there in that dirty room, with enemies only a few feet away, while I tried to comfort a young lady.

She spoke one word before looking up, "ministre?" I saw her face slowly look out from behind the crock of her arm. I saw her pretty round face, large scared eyes, full lips, small nose. She was very pretty. The woman asked me a question, and I could not understand a word. So I improvised, and told her my name, Caesar, or rather my nickname. She told me hers, yet I could not pronounce the French version so I shortened it to Sam.

Sam took her hands and arms from her face, sitting up as much as that large desk allowed. Then she smiled at me! So you may ask? Well, after the deaths of friends and the agony of victory, it was almost too much. I saw her looking at my trouble faced, and she began to cry. No I didn't cry, but I still felt the tears running down my cheeks. One of her hands reached out daintily and wiped the tear from my face.

I sat upon the floor next to the opening of the desk, she knelt next to me. With a motherly compassion, she bent forward and kissed my wet cheek, her other hand holding my face steady. God, I was confused, was I not supposed to be the victor, the knight in shining armour? Yet here was this tiny attractive woman who was stronger than I, comforting me. Upon the rest of my emotions I felt shame.

Sam placed her cheek next to mine, holding me. When I finally got hold of myself, I realized she held me in a death grip. She was not going to let go. I turned my face towards her, our eyes only six inches apart. "Please Mlle, I have to go. You must understand, people are depending on me!" She closed her eyes and kissed me. This time upon the lips, very softly and with great amount of emotion. It was too much upon my trouble soul, and I returned the unknown woman's kiss. Sam was patient with my hungry sadness. I forced her lips open with my own. My tongue sliding into her mouth, finally coming in contact with hers. My hand grasped her flimsy dress and I tore the remaining buttons off the front, exposing her undergarments. I was hungry for passion, for love. Yet for several years all I had known was pain and death. The softness of a woman was almost forgotten upon me, certainly how to touch a lady was alien was.

I stopped, thankfully before I had begun to rape her, my mind finally taking control of my emotions. Sam surprised me, she looked me straight in the eye with even more emotion and compassion. She took her hands off me and began to disrobe. Off came the ripped dress, her shoulders exposed. It hung about its cord around her waist. Then she reached behind her and undid the clasp for her bra, the undergarment fell to the floor next to both of us.

Sam knelt, her back straight, looking right at me. I unashamed, looked at her exposed skin. I fell for that unknown French woman, I could see the imperfections of her flesh, but desired all. She was a beautiful woman who had lived through years of hell, why did she offer me this gift? I have never known.

Slowly she grasped my free hand and brought it to her chest, my large palm cupping the firm roundness of her breast. Her nipple began to harden under my rough hand, reminding me of the of love I had lost because of this war. I was almost ran out of their at that moment, yet only her eyes held me in place. She withdrew her hand from mine, and I felt her fumble with the front of my clothing. My webbing was undone, then the buttons of my trousers and lower jacket. I was conscious of my unwashed body, and almost began to laugh. To be worried about such a thing sitting here in this ransacked building with Germans a floor above me, and both of our bodies had not seen a bath for many a week. I realized, finally, that the simple pleasures of the flesh was not the reason that Sam was doing this. Perhaps, like me, she needed to feel the closeness of another human, even with the stench of war covering us.

A warm small hand held my hardness, forced it passed my boxer shorts to point up out of my dishevelled clothing. I don't remember a moment when I had been more excited, or felt closer to any person in my life. With anxious and deliberate movements she knelt up then swung a knee and leg over my lap. Sam moved her hanging skirt from between her legs and reached up with one hand to move her undergarments aside. Her other hand held my shoulder steadying herself, while her eyes never left mine.

During that time, I had placed both hands upon her full breasts. I marvelled in the warm softness of woman, and wanted more. Yet this time I was patient.

Sam sighed very loudly, just as I felt her warm wetness envelope me. She sat upon my lap, locked together by more than sex. She cupped her breasts in her hands, pointing that perfect areola towards my salivating lips. I tasted her skin, reviling in the hardness beneath my tongue. I alternated between the globes, almost not noticing her slow movements up and down upon my shaft.

Time went slowly, our movements more urgent. My lips had left her breasts and found her hungry mouth. Our tongues danced to the beat of our joining. I marvelled at her wetness, wanted to see it, yet her skirt hid everything. The moisture contained their was making erotic wet noises. She began to moan deep down in her throat and I forced my tongue into her mouth to silence her in the most polite way I knew how. She accepted my gift.

Before I realized what was going on, Sam froze, with only the unknown joined portions quivering and spasming delightfully upon me. I spent a great tribute to this unknown woman, flooding her with my seed. She squealed with pleasure, feeling the warm liquid hit deep inside her, filling her up. Her hips wiggled wonderfully, bringing a groan from my lips.

It was over.

Sam lay over me, spent as I. Slowly the sounds that surrounded us began to reach me. I could hear the sounds of treads, the tanks that had been promised to my section. I had to leave this woman, yet that was the hardest thing I had yet to do in my short years. I gently moved her off me, and told her to stay under the desk. When it was over I would return, what then, I don't know?

I stood ready, my soul finally cured of its afflictions. Yet again, it almost broke. The look in her eyes as I was only steps away from the door to this room was enough to fill my heart with foreboding. I must do my duty, if not for my commanders then for her. I would return!

Swiftly without looking back I left her, soon finding the stairs going up. Silently I reached the top, through the rubble I saw five Germans smoking and laughing. One was on watch looking out the large window. I could not understand what they said, yet I didn't care. I blamed them for causing Sam her pain, I wanted to hurt them. Taking careful aim, I shot two before the others even reacted. My position upon the stair, looking over the edge of the floor, gave me good cover. And I was able to wound another soldier. Then the wall behind the remaining Germans blew wards, killing them instantly and showering me with debris. One hit me very hard and I as knocked senseless.

Confusion was what I awoke to, around me a sea of brown and green uniforms. A doctor knelt next to my prone body, examining my head wound. "A scratch really, though head wounds do bleed a lot." He quickly left me to attend another fallen comrade. In only hours I was again with my section, as they sat with the tank crew in front of that building I knew so well. With barely a glance at my men I entered the cleared building, finding nothing.

Sam was gone!

Dream #2

I do have limits! I mean I am a crook, sure, but that does not mean I would do many other illegal activities. Even thieves have a code of honour, if you will. What am I talking about?

Well, I had a job to do. My business partner would case out a place, usually posing as a salesman or a meter reader, and it was my job to go in and empty the joint. Easy! And it usually is, except for this one time. Now I don't carry a gun, but just a knife for cutting away cords, or jimmying stuck cabinets. So I always try to B&E while the occupants are not home. I was already in the house, a normal middle-class dwelling which was chosen for my exploits because of the amount of toys. Electronic toys. Excellent turn-over value. This job would bring me personally over a thousand bucks!

Yet this job was not so easy!

There was someone in the house. A temptation that would perhaps have beguiled a less ethical man. A totally unforeseen disaster could happen if I didn't get out very quick. I was upstairs going through the main bedrooms drawers and closets and had already collected several pieces of jewelry. The sound from downstairs was unmistaken, a woman was crying! I almost shit my drawers, my partner had assured me the place was empty, the family had left for the evening. I suddenly pictured myself cuffed in the back seat of a police cruiser, not a vision I wanted fulfilled.

To get out of the house, I had to go back downstairs. I may be a thief but that doesn't mean I can climb! Nor did I bring rope. Damn, damn, damn, damn!

Moving as fast as I could while still stepping softly I crept downstairs. I saw a flickering light that was not there when I entered the house. It was the fireplace in the large living room that was giving that eerie red glow. It certainly was not there when I had left, perhaps someone returned home without my hearing. Doubtful but possible.

I still stood on the stairs but could see into the large immaculate living room. A person lay upon the floor, the sound of her crying louder. She was not crying loudly, but weeping to herself, yet in this quiet house the sound was very deafening. My muscles shook with fear, my hands were sweaty and my teeth ground together.

Finally I reached the bottom of the stairs and snuck another peek at the woman before I would exit from the front door and run like hell. I saw an attractive small woman, dressed very nicely, laying upon the floor facing the fire. From my angle I could see the tears upon her cheeks, and her sad round face. My heart went out to her, but what could I do? If she saw me, off to the big house for sure! I creeped to the door of the living room and watched her for a bit more. If she was OK, then I would leave. In that light I could see everything, though with a reddish glow, even the wine glass half-filled sitting next to her. I studied the profile of the lady. And that was what she was - a lady; older perhaps early thirties, she had that cuddly appearance that attracted me, she wore professional conservative clothing yet still very feminine, short blond hair that radiated the irregular light.

It was time to leave. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but it had to be about ten minutes. Karma I expect. When I was about to turn and go, I realized she was looking right at me!

Her eyes wide in surprise, I didn't see fear, she stared directly into mine. I realized I should have put on a mask or bellacaluva when I heard someone in the house. "I..I won't hurt you." I realized I must look fearful, black pants and shirt, black leather gloves and runners, and a duffle bag under an arm. One of her dainty hands came up and wiped a cheek dry. "I'm sorry for everything...I will leave now..."

I stepped back one pace then froze upon hearing her voice. "Don't go!" A voice filled with desperation and surprise. Yet surprisingly still no fear. I would have still turned tail and run if not for those two words. Why would she ask me to stay? Were the police on their way already? Perhaps she had a gun trained upon me? I froze in fear and astonishment.

I turned back in time to see her wipe the other cheek dry. She mumbled, "I'm sorry..." She surprised me again? Was I not the intruder, the crook, the thief? It was obvious she did not fear me. "My name is Samantha," she stood awkwardly since her skirt hindered the movement, "please come in and sit down." She motioned towards a large comfortable couch. I was struck silent, but followed mutely her commands. I sat looking into her pretty face, and saw her smile. A happy, honest and earnest smile, filled with trust and something else? From my seat I could smell her perfume, I know not the name but it filled my head and caused my heart to flutter.

Samantha took a seat next to me, about a foot distant, easily within arms distance. Her soft eyes met mine and I melted in her look. Perhaps she was stalling for the cops, yet something in the ladies manner suggested I was wrong. She asked quietly, politely, "What is your name?"

I didn't want to tell her the truth, it could be used against me in a court of law. So I gave her my nickname, the one used by my business acquaintances, "Caesar." She reached out and took my hand held it firmly in her warm grasp. I of course let her, yet knew at any moment I could overpower this small woman and leave. But who was in power here? At that moment I contemplated forcing myself upon her. And I quickly discarded the notion, the lady was above that, even above me. And as I have said, I do have limits. One of those is that I will steal, but never hurt a person intentionally or otherwise. "I should go!" Indeed I should!

She held me more firmly, "No please stay!" I knew she would let go if I insisted. I didn't. Samantha hung her head, looking down at her lap, almost in shame. To my distress her smile was gone. "I want you to make love to me." So quiet I'm sure I must have mistaken her words. After several seconds of silence, she looked up into my eyes, her look hard. "Here on the floor, make love to me here." I looked down at the large fur rug, perhaps a polar bear. Then let my eyes wander over the older woman's form, she lifted her chin and waited for my inspection to end.

Of course I wanted her, I was a young male after all. But I was crude, used to the streets, the women of he gutter. What did I know about "making love", in my world we called it sex or just f%$*ing!

Yet in the end I pulled my hand from hers and placed it upon her right bosom. Was their any doubt reader? Samantha closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Soon both hands were gently caressing and fondling the round soft breasts. She wore a silk pearl colored blouse, loose, and a brassier underneath. And yet her nipples were very visible, they also poked into my palm exciting me beyond her earlier words. Both hands trembled when I placed them upon her lap, and began to worm then up her taunt skirt. Though my gaze was fixed to the placement of my hands, I saw out the corner of my eye as she began to slowly unbutton her blouse.

Nirvana, the lady wore stockings! The type with garters and all the fixings. I felt the heat of her bare upper thigh as the tips of my fingers reached skin. Now I knew even if the police were outside, I would not care. For this moment was foremost in my mind. Nothing else mattered.

I pulled my hands out from the tight confines of her skirt and began to help her with the blouse. Soon it was off, thrown upon the floor behind the couch. Her bra was unclasped from the front, and her breasts moved with delight to be unconfined. My mouth watered! She stood up before me, her hands reaching behind her to undo the white skirt, it fell to the floor very quickly. Her hands reached for her garter belt but I intercepted her and nodded no. I wanted her to keep the white stockings on, they pleasured my visual senses immensely. Samantha smiled knowingly and hooked a thumb under the corners of her panties. Again I stopped her.

She looked down at me in surprise as I bent forward and planted a kiss upon her white silk undergarment. I could taste her moist pleasure soaking the silk, the smell intoxicating, the heat overpowering. My head swam. She groaned as my lips touched her, almost begging with that one sound for another. Again my lips touch the fine fabric, and this time I noticed the discoloration from it being wet. Samantha's small hands intertwined in my hair and held my head, she wanted more. Yet so did I.

Using my teeth, I pulled the left side of the panty down to mid- hip. I immediately moved to the other side, and pulled it down. Moving to the center, my nose already within a bush so fine and thick that I am amazed I found the strength to continue. My teeth pulled her panties to her lower thighs, where they fell promptly to her knees. I had noticed a length of her excitement trail behind the panties which finally broke after a length. This lady did indeed want a lowly man like myself! She now stood clothed the way I most desired her, she was beautiful!

"Lay upon your carpet Samantha." An order, yet it brought a huge smile to her face and prompt response. She lay upon her back, her legs slightly spread, her knees bent, her hands running up and down her thighs and across her stomach. Her eyes followed me intently, waiting!

I stood over her, my hands quickly undoing my shirt, then my shoes and my pants. I saw one of her hands cup a breast and I slowed down forcing her to wait. As I inched my pants down my long legs, bending over so she had not seem my sex yet, I also watched her. The lady was wiggling her bottom in her impatience, her hand upon her breast was molding it to her desires, the other was scratching with nails upon those warm soft thighs and stockings. I stood straight!

Of course the preceding events had excited me and my pole was at its height. Her gasp of thankful pleasure very loud, as I took two steps and stood over her prone body, my legs straddling her waist. Samantha looked straight up into my charms, then quickly stole a glance at my face, and back down. I stoked my throbbing member gently, mostly for effect. She lifted her back off the rug and rolled to either side, hungry for what was next. The reddish glow illuminated us devilishly. I thought the she looked positively delightful and very yummy. Yet I held off for perhaps a moment, teasing both of us.

Taking my time I slowly ended up kneeling between her thighs which she had spread to accommodate me. Soon I was on all fours, my hands to either side of her chest. With minute precision my object of desire engulfed my raging stallion within its wet folds. I sank to the hilt, gasping in the initial pleasure. Samantha's hand came up, one to hold the back of my neck, the other to grasp my tight buttock. She set the rhythm for our coupling.

I know not if I was making love, but I tried, both for her sake and mine. It was the most intense and pleasurable experience in my twenty years. For this I would go to jail for an uncountable period.

The speed of our love was slow, our sex joining softly, the tip of my pole exiting her confines before again entering. Again and again. In all truthfulness I know not how long we continued in this fashion, nor did I care. At one point, I arched my back and tasted upon the hard little buds of her nipples. The taste intoxicating, and very stimulating. There would not be much longer for my explosion, I was amazed that I lasted this long with the fine lady. When she lifted her stocking covered legs and wrapped them around my waist, that was too much! Both her arms encircled my head and neck, then she began to move below me. Faster with every thrust, we accelerated desperately, with almost magic. I believe I held her body completely as she lifted herself off the ground and moved in time to me.

I was the first to finish. My orgasm shot through me like a bolt of energy that drained me very quickly. I barely even noticed that she had screamed out and began to thrash and buckle beneath me. Samantha clung to me in passion while both of our bodies went through a simultaneous passion release. Both of our muscles quivered in delight and exhaustion as we fell to the ground, neither of us with a reserve of energy left.

The fire crackled and snapped lazily, inciting me to fall asleep within my new lovers arms, both still locked by our tired organs. I held her body completely as she lifted herself off the ground and moved in time to me.

I was the first to finish. My orgasm shot through me like a bolt of energy that drained me very quickly. I barely even noticed that she had almost screamed out and began to thrash and buckle beneath me. Samantha clung to me in passion while both of our bodies went through a simultaneous passion release. Our muscles quivered in delight and exhaustion as we fell to the ground, neither of us with a reserve of energy left.

The fire crackled and snapped lazily, inciting me to fall asleep within my new lovers arms, both still locked by our tired bodies. The remaining narrative of this story is not very interesting - I left the lady sleeping beautifully upon that large white fur rug, her body still glistening by the flickering of the dying firelight. I stole away and never saw her again. But I still wonder?!

Dream #3

My desires do run a little different than what some consider "normal". Yet I'm not alone, a large underground full of people are into my own kink. Normal, everyday people. With middle-class families and kids, yet their desires do also run very slanted.

Samantha was such a person. Her life was what I would call "regular", at least the little I knew about it. To tell the truth I'm not even sure if Samantha is her real name? I had only met her upon the busy rush-hour transit an hour ago. And here she was standing in my basement.

With amusement I watched her look around at the toys and articles of my kink. I watched her moist tongue lick along her already moist lips, a very arousing sight. Her hands kept clenching and unclenching her briefcase, which was also crossed before her as a if it was a shield. I enjoyed her nervousness and uncertainty. It was my game. Samantha was dressed very business-like, yet I had no idea what she did, nor did I care. Tonight would be for pleasure not business.

"I don't think I could do this." She said, her eyes unable to come off one wall, which I called the "dungeon" side. I gave no reaction nor did I deny her exit to my hideaway. The ground rules were already set before she had stepped into my house. She could leave any time, and I will not object or stop her. But while she was down in my basement she was mine!

We were strangers, I assumed her desires were stronger than her common sense about strange men on transit trains. Why else would she be here? Many of my new women were exactly like her. Samantha was a lost flower in the wind and I am about to grasp her into my firm grasp.

If you had not guessed it by now, I am a dominate(dom) and Samantha was to be my current submissive(sub). My "slave" if you will!

I gave her time to look around. Knowing, that waiting for my first order to be given was harder than the actual execution. Not for all, of course, but the unknown sub was very nervous. Action may or may not cure that. Did she have a husband at home? Perhaps even waiting for her? I didn't care.

"Take your clothes off Samantha." A simple statement, spoken quietly and an air of non-compromise. The sub took a deep breath then dropped her briefcase to the floor at her feet. She turned around towards me and brought both hands to her throat to unclasp the broach pinned there.

The game was afoot!

I leaned back against a wooden work horse, sanded down for special uses, and openly admired the small woman. The one piece dress took very little time to fall to the floor around her ankles. Her shoes, hose, bra and panties followed. She finally stood straight determined to continue with the game, daring me to look upon her nakedness.

"Let your hair down and take your earrings out." A little surprised she pulled out the gold studs, the hair clasp also was undone very quickly.