Stepping Out on Dylan
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Private Dylan free porn video
As a carefree high school senior, Dylan was known for his athleticism, congeniality, and good looks. He had it all. He could have had any girl he wanted, of course, although he only dated Daisy McLaren. She was his sweetheart since their sophomore year. She loved Dylan as much as he loved her.
They married soon after graduation in the summer of '43. Their honeymoon year was cut short when things abruptly changed. Dylan found himself living in a new place wearing different clothes and he even had a title. He was now known as Private Dylan Heywood. He left for basic training at Ft. Bragg in November of that year.
Daisy and Dylan made good use of the little time they had before he left for boot camp. Most of it was in bed. Daisy had made it clear when they got engaged that she wanted three kids, maybe more. Dylan smiled then said, "Well, no time like the present to get started," so they practiced a lot before the wedding.
Daisy hoped and prayed she would be pregnant before Dylan left for the Army. She urged him on, pleading for him to fill her with his seed. "Oh yes, cum in me! Cum deep in me. That's it, that's it, honey. I feel it cumming inside me. Ah, ah, ooh, that feels so good."
Despite all of their practice and round the clock fucking as newlyweds, Daisy wasn't pregnant when Dylan boarded a train in late 1943 for North Carolina with war raging on two fronts. It was a scary time but when a guy is nineteen, it looks to him more like an exciting adventure. Anyway, he expected the war to end soon and be back home with Daisy in a few short months. After all, the Allies were beginning to make Hitler's super race look more vulnerable with the Russian victory in Stalingrad and Allied victories in North Africa.
Daisy wrote the very first day Dylan left for Ft. Bragg. It was short and to the point.
Dear Private Kilroy, Daisy loved to give pet names to everyone and everything. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you!!!! xoxoxoxoxoxo She sealed it with lipstick kisses on the envelope. Dylan read it four days later and sat down to write back the following day.
My Dear Darling Daisy,
I got your letter. I miss you too. Things are much different here than I expected. First, it's warm, even hot on some days. The drill sergeant is nasty. His name is Toby O'Brien. He yells a lot and called us a bunch of ugly good for nothin' slugs and worse names. I guess he doesn't like us. Anyway, they issued us uniforms and rifles and a helmet that fits tighter than your Fingal's Cave. Tomorrow we go to the shooting range to learn how to kill Nazis or Japs. We don't know which yet. I gotta run. Sergeant O'Brien is screaming at us to muster up at fourteen hundred in full uniform. I'm fine, don't worry.
Loving you forever,
Dylan
Daisy wrote nearly every day. She wrote, Charlie Blankendorf comes by every so often to see how I'm doing. He tried to enlist in the Navy but was rejected because of that football injury he got his senior year. You probably remember he was in traction for almost a month. I'm thinking of volunteering at the USO twice a week. Of course, I miss you so very much. Fingal feels deserted and lonely. I have to reassure her that Uncle Dan will come home soon. Sometimes I pet Pearl who misses you too. They both wish you were here.
Dylan was a little slower writing letters. He apologized by saying, "Dearest Wife, It's hard to get time to write. I thought football practice was hard but this is much much harder. I've lost ten pounds but made up for it in muscle. I'm a lean mean fighting machine. I don't think you'd recognize me! One day I tried to be funny and showed up at roll call wearing earmuffs because my ears were ringing from O'Brien shouting at us. He's even louder than Coach Randall at school. Everyone got the earmuff joke except for Sarg. 'What are you wearing Private Heyweird?' he yelled. I said the name is Heywood and told him my ears hurt. 'Heyweird, it's eighty degrees out here.' I said my ears weren't cold; they were ringing. That's when he caught on and it earned me a week in latrine duty. I just hope the guys are better shots with their rifles than with their cocks pointed at the urinals.
After six weeks of Sergeant O'Brien in basic training, Brian was ready to go home on leave before being shipped out. He was headed to England.
Good news my dearest. I'm coming home for a couple of weeks before they send me to England for more training. Can you believe it, England? Like you're mom always says, "For some, the birds sing." They sure are singing for me going to England. I could have been sent straight off to Germany. Maybe I'll get to see Big Ben and the changing of the guards in London.
Dylan stepped off the train in full uniform a week later. Daisy hardly recognized him at first. After intense hugs and kisses, Daisy gushed, "My God Dylan, you look like a movie star!" Daisy thought he was the most handsome man in uniform she had seen since watching John Wayne in "Flying Tigers."
"We gotta get you home so I can see what you've got under that uniform. I mean your new muscles of course." They gave each other a salacious grin, then raced home into the bedroom to see who was going to lose their clothes first.
It wasn't but a moment later that Dylan scaled her Tetons with his hot mouth gorging on her hard and erect mountain peaks. Then Uncle Dan made a visit to Fingal's Cave filling its cavern with cum that flowed like hot lava. "Goodness, Private Kilroy," she giggled, "Uncle Dan seems is so much bigger than before you left. What have you been doing?"
"I suppose it's because Dan and I worked out each night dreaming of your sweet lips, those beautiful Tetons, and of course, Fingal."
Dylan finished too soon for Daisy to gain all of the pleasures that she had desired but there were more days ahead for Dylan to satisfy her insatiable lust. With variations on the same theme, Daisy was satisfied many times over the next few days. Sometimes Pearl was polished to a glossy sheen and became so tumescent her clit was like one of Dylan's childhood toy marbles. Playing with Daisy's Pearl was much more fun. There were days when Daisy's needs surpassed his. She had no limits while Dylan was only good for twice a day.
Her Private Kilroy left for England soon after his leave ended, yet Daisy still wasn't pregnant.
Dylan wrote while on board the troopship. My Love, We're on our way. I brought along a few thousand of my best friends. This ship is huge and it's packed. I've only gotten seasick twice. Some guys spill their guts all day long. We should reach land in two days and it won't be soon enough. There's not much happening aboard the ship except to say everyone calls it called the "Grey Ghost.". Someone said it was the Queen Mary. Anyway, I'm alright and will write more after we disembark. Love ya! Dylan
The first letter Dylan received overseas was from his friend Charlie Blankendorf who wrote that Daisy had given him the address. Most of the letter was about mutual friends and how people were coping with the blackouts and rationing. He prayed that Dylan will stay safe.
Daisy's letter arrived the next day saying how much she missed him and how lonely it was without him. Darling, she wrote, it's so hard to snuggle in our bed wishing you were next to me. I get so horny thinking about you. I hate being alone at night. Sometimes I suck my thumb like a baby thinking it is Uncle Dan in my mouth. He makes me so happy when you are here beside me. I just want you to be safe and come home soon to make love to me so I can tremble from the pleasures you provide.
As the weeks passed, Daisy's love letters began to slow to once a week or fewer. When he thought about it, Dylan understood that with hundreds of thousands of GI's in Europe, mail could be slow or get lost. In her last letter, Daisy had written that she was doing some volunteer work at the USO and said that Charlie stopped by for dinner one night. We talked about the old times. He's been dating a few women, even a widow but he hasn't found 'the one. He said you had already taken the best girl.
Dylan wrote that he was billeted in Winchester with the 9th Infantry Division, a lovely town with lots of history and a fantastic cathedral. The people are nice and sometimes invite us to dinner. He mentioned that he'd been to London to see the sights and even went to Soho which he described as a wild place. He didn't go into details and didn't mention the barmaid he shagged in back of a pub. The barmaid was twice his age with ordinary looks but her jubblies were irresistible. Dylan did write that he was learning new terms for British sex. "It's kind of like a foreign language lesson," he joked.
His days were filled with intensive training keeping his thoughts more on the fight ahead than lost or forgotten letters. The men in his unit only could speculate about their mission. There was one distraction. Dylan was focused on a girl he met while at a dinner given by a local family. She was young, seventeen, a little naive and as lovely as a moonlit summer's evening. Her name was Amelia. Dylan avoided the fact that he was married when he took her to bed in a shared apartment that he and his buddies had rented for their clandestine trysts.
Amelia was an inexperienced lover. Her virgin pussy reminded him of the first time he and Daisy had sex in his parents' Chevy Coupe. It was awkward at first but Amelia learned quickly beginning to enjoy Dylan's cock inside her while discovering the many ways to pleasure her soldier.
After a couple of weeks together, Amelia craved sex as much as Dylan. On an evening that the apartment wasn't available, they fucked in Abbey Gardens, a five-minute walk from the cathedral. It was a chilly night not made for lengthy foreplay. She just raised her dress and spread her legs like a bird in flight. He pulled his pants past his knees and found the warm and wet receptive opening. His hands and face might have felt cold but not his hard and virile cock. It slid easily into Amelia's young puffy twat, thrusting vigorously and deeply. Her arms hugged him around his neck. Her legs wound around his waist. Her cunt squeezed him as tightly as a carpenter's vice. Amelia tried to muzzle her screams while experiencing her first orgasms but was only halfway successful. His cum came suddenly, forcefully and prodigiously. It surged deeply into the recesses of her tender pussy. She couldn't hold back the cry that reverberated all the way to the cathedral. When they finished, both lovers lay breathlessly together in the grass for a few minutes. She was the first to speak. "That was good, Dylan, really good. I mean really great!" She tried to hold back her tears of joy until they fell like rain in a thunderstorm.
*****
Meanwhile back in the States, Daisy wasn't idle making up for lost time next to a warm body. Her first lover was Charlie Blankendorf. He had made several passes at her over the first few months Daisy was alone. All were rejected until one Friday night they had a few drinks and she was uncomfortably horny. When he kissed her at the front door, she invited him into the bedroom. After fucking him the first time she said, "I love Dylan to death, Charlie, but women have their needs too. I just hope the two of us can keep this between us."
He stayed the weekend fucking her morning, noon and night. Sometimes it was with her splayed out on the kitchen table, once in the shower, a couple of times in the back yard, and of course, using every position possible in bed.
Cheating the first time made it easier the second time. It was with a young lieutenant she met at the USO. He reminded her of Dylan and she fell in love with his huge balls that looked like two large prunes. Daisy fondled them, sucked them, and finally emptied them in her cunt. It was a one night stand followed by others.
Dylan hadn't been heard from after he had written on June second. We're on a secret mission, my love. We think the invasion will be soon but I can't say where. Daisy needed someone to comfort her before she totally fell apart when hearing about the D-Day casualties.
On the Fourth of July, she hosted a party at her house with a few women she knew and a half dozen soldiers. One of the women disappeared and went to one of the bedrooms with a guy with which she had been flirting. Her name was Paula who had lost her husband at Normandy. Daisy needed a man too because she was sure Dylan was lying dead somewhere on the beaches of France.
So when two of the men stayed behind after the party, Daisy let one screw her while the other soldier waited for his turn. She didn't mind it later when they fucked her DP. Their threesome didn't end until sunrise the next day. Daisy thanked them and wished them well. They were shipped out the next day and she never saw them again. Her next affair was with a Major who showed her his deuce and a half, then creampied her doggie in the back of the truck.
*****
But Dylan wasn't dead. His unit landed on Utah Beach on June tenth, four days after D-Day. He was on patrol when two of his buddies were shot and killed. Dylan was wounded with shrapnel in his lower body barely able to walk. For three days he wandered aimlessly in the French farmland, staying hidden, always moving at night hoping to find a friendly farmhouse or even a barn in which to rest. Finally, he stumbled upon an old church with a cemetery and a monument that commemorated WWI soldiers killed from the tiny village of Saint-Martin-de-Blagny. He thought, how ironic. Dylan took refuge inside the small church waiting for a sign, perhaps from heaven, to give him guidance for his next move. It came in the form of a woman who was there to pray. She was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He thought it was a mirage.
Dylan wanted to call out to her. What were the French words he learned in school? He kicked himself for not paying more attention in French class. He was sure he'd never need it but still, he remembered something. "Bonjour," he whispered. "Parlez vous Anglais?"
She was startled and scared seeing the soldier with a tattered bloody uniform. At first, she said, "No," and ran to the back of the church.
Dylan called out, "American. Mademoiselle, I'm an American." She turned, frightened, looking at him suspiciously. After taking a few steps, he collapsed and passed out.
When he awoke, Dylan had no idea where he was except that he was lying on a cot with a cow, a half dozen chickens and the smell of hay. In his delirium, Dylan thought he was baby Jesus lying in a manger. Next to him was a carafe half full of red wine and a wedge of cheese. Dylan didn't wait to ask permission. He was starving and helped himself then fell asleep. When he woke up the second time, Dylan realized he was resting in the stall of a barn. Seeing his bandages, he began hallucinating again and imagined himself as an Egyptian mummy.
A rooster rudely announced the sunrise early the next morning when Dylan finally was able to think more rationally. He struggled to roll off the cot but his legs gave out on his first step. If he was going to walk, he needed a cane. A nearby pole would have to do. Just as he reached the door, a woman rushed in waving her arms and saying, "No, no, no! Deutsche. Germans." It was the woman he saw in the church. She was bringing him bread, boiled eggs, and coffee. "Eat. You must eat."
"Merci, thank you," he replied. "What is your name, nom?"
"My name is Bridgette," she purred in perfect English. It was apparent to Dylan that Bridgette knew more English than she had first revealed.
"I'm Dylan," he said struggling to think clearly. She flashed a smile that quickly disappeared when she heard a loud explosion. "American bombs," she said and ran out to the house when she heard a baby crying.
Dylan didn't see Bridgette until the sun was setting that evening when she brought him bread, wine, and scraps of meat. She told him he must continue to stay hidden. "There is a huge battle at St. Come-du-Mont, less than thirty kilometers from here and Germans are scattered everywhere." He could hear the thunder from the battle so he had no doubt she was right.
Two days later it was quiet so Bridgette felt it was safe enough to take him inside her small stone farmhouse where they began to talk. His high school French began to improve and Bridgette felt more confident with her English.
Bridgette was twenty-seven and a nurse. She had tended to Dylan's wounds and bandaged him the best she could. Her daughter was eighteen months old. The baby's name was Sara. Bridgette never spoke about her husband, Jacques, except to say he was a doctor and had joined the resistance. "He was captured while setting charges on the rail line and executed by the Nazis in front of WWI monument. Jacques was so proud when he learned he was to be a father," she said. "He was killed before Sara was born."
Dylan said little about himself except that he had graduated from high school eighteen months earlier and played American football. He loved French fries and hot dogs. Bridgette knew about pommes frites but not American football or hot dogs. She asked him to tell her about the famous American baseball player "Baby Ruth." Dylan laughed and said his real name was George Herman Ruth and had no idea why they called him Babe because the Bambino was a rather large man.
Their romance grew as wartime relationships often do between a lonely woman and man. On a warm July evening, Bridgette came to his room wearing a sheer nightgown saying she was frightened from the thunderstorm. She spoke softly and said, J'ai envie de toi. They had sex that lasted long past the storm.
"What did you say to me when you came into bed tonight?" Dylan asked.
"I told you that I wanted you. It looks like you need to learn more French if we are to make love again."
From then on, they slept together where she showed Dylan how to do more than French kiss. "Plus fort!" Harder, she would yell. "Plus vite!" Faster, she begged.
"Brigette, how do you say, fuck me?"
She laughed and said, "Baise-moi. Tu es vraiment un vilain garçon."
He knew enough French to know she was telling him that he was a naughty boy. "How do you say, suck my cock?"
She whispered in his ear, "Suce-moi la bite," and went down him to show she knew how. Spontaneously they inverted their bodies into, position sexuelle soixante neuf, as she called it. She sucked him like a vacuum cleaner. He ate out her pussy like it was a buttery croissant. They climaxed moments later with every fluid lustfully consumed.
Dylan was an eager student and caught on quickly recalling some of the French he learned in class. French was never that much fun in high school, he thought to himself.
He learned of her desires both by language and gestures. One day in the barn Bridgette said, "Doigte-moi." He hadn't learned that phrase yet. She didn't translate but took his hand and pressed his fingers in her pussy. He fucked her on a bale of hay with her yelling the whole time, "Plus fort! Plus vite!"
When his spasms finally stopped, he had filled her with his seed half hoping it would take. She hugged and kissed him deeply as she had never kissed him before saying, "Oh oui! C'est bon!" while tears rolled down her cheeks.
The days lengthened into weeks, weeks into months. By the time of the German's unconditional surrender, it was May 1945. Dylan had become more than a fugitive hiding in a French farmhouse. Bridgette was his mistress but there was more. He and Sara had bonded like father and daughter. Yet Dylan knew he eventually had to return to his wife in America. Bridgette said on the day he left that it was worse than seeing her husband shot by the Nazis because Dylan wasn't just leaving her behind but also Sara. He promised to return.
Dylan saw his wife Daisy for the first time on May twenty-seventh with a lot of explaining to do. So did she. Daisy met him at the airport as he climbed out of the twin-engine C-47 transport plane. She carried with her a two-month-old baby boy.
Dylan thought it was her sister's boy. It wasn't. Then he thought it was Charlie Blankendorf's. Daisy said no. "It was with Captain Lundquist. He got me drunk after a party and I must have passed out. The next I knew we were having sex." This was as believable to Dylan as saying the boy had been dropped on her front door.
Dylan made no accusations. He had his own past to consider. Dylan said little about the war only to say that a French family kept him safely hidden not far from where he landed on Utah Beach. It was a little more difficult to explain why he didn't return home sooner.
EPILOGUE
Daisy and Dylan had two children of their own but were never able to rekindle the intense love they had before he left for Europe.
Amelia looked for Dylan after he left Winchester and was told that Private First Class Dylan Heywood was missing in action and presumed killed on a patrol in France along with two others. That's when she gave up hope trying to locate Dylan to tell him about their baby girl. She named the baby, Scarlet.
Dylan didn't return to France until the fiftieth anniversary of D-Day. He was almost seventy and took a side trip to Saint-Martin-de-Blagny hoping to locate Bridgette. He found Sara. They both wept when they met. She said, "I thought my papa would come back. I always thought of you as my daddy. I kept asking mom, 'Quand papa rentre à la maison?' - when is daddy coming home?" Sara said her mom cried for a long time after he left. They never stopped talking about the brave handsome American GI. Dylan learned that Bridgette had remarried, had another child and died two years before he and Sara had reunited on D-Day plus fifty.
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