Love and War

They did not want to die virgins — The outline of her nude body — There were no restraints in France — Her fleshy-white thighs — Sex and mortality — her black silk stockings — A reward — and garter — for surviving battle — came off — or a refuge from imminent death — Fingers on her soft-silken pussy — Young British officers had money to spend — Her gorging breasts — Knew they stood a good chance — nipples like young, pink raspberries — of being killed within a few weeks — The way she moaned and arched her back.

Fellow officers chose to visit the brothels of Paris — Several young women writhing and sucking each others’ breasts — A maison tolérée — The Madam — “blue lamp” — took him to an eight-sided room — a refined category of brothel — walls and ceilings entirely covered with mirrors — reserved by secret edict — The only furniture a low divan — of the British army — luxurious — for the officer classes — on which this pretty little brunette displayed her charms — the misery of the trenches — opened her legs wide — A refuge cherished from the horrors of the first industrial war — She welcomed him most pleasantly — born in late Victorian Britain — her blue — tens of thousands — blue eyes — of young men — the scent of lilac — fear of imminent extinction — her honey tongue — dissolved sexual inhibition — She knew how to suck his cock and make him shudder.

The shelling — She buried his head in her pussy with her slender hands — the slaughter — She went wild when he handcuffed her — the Western Front — to a wrought-iron bed — He had performed — He could suck her breasts for hours — heroic deeds for England — The way she loved to fuck — but also felt the need for a little love — The way she moaned — a little laughter — He grabbed her ass and fucked her -

Outside the room — the heat — young British officers — the sweat — drinking — building his desire — smoking — The way she touched herself and orgasmed — playing a battered piano beneath sensuous drawings — half-singing — pinned on walls — half-lusting — of young women wearing — loving — or half-wearing — radiant and beautiful — provocative clothes — made his heart ripple across his chest — German shelling — as he restrained his hard cock from climaxing — intensely — sweating — dangerous — so he could fuck her more — underground — fuck her again — war — those tender fuschia lips. Dear God.

Bridges — heat and heavy breath — a railway station — her passion — devastated — fucking her silken tender flesh — vast craters — fucking — her heat — too large to have been created by an artillery shell — her cunt — a tunneller — 1915 — wet — served in France until 1919 — thrusting — burrowing — faster — beneath — faster — No Man’s Land — fucking faster — to blow up the German trenches — He cried out as he came— The shuddering in revulsion from death — collapsing in each other’s arms — one turns instinctively — listening to heavy breathing and heart beats — to love as an act to affirm the completeness of being -

Rested — they breakfasted on an omelette — melon — and champagne.

Memories — lost love — Her name was Yvette — her pictures kept hidden — she was his favorite — locked away in a biscuit tin — Her scent still lingers on his fingertips — He never talked about it all these years — A lock of her hair — All we know is that he fell in love with a young woman in France — her garter — and that his family apparently discouraged him from marrying — Memories — He never talked about the Great War — brief physical encounters — Romantic love — not so easily suppressed — Right at the end of his life — Amour — he would talk about the young woman he had known in France — Je t’aime — He would become very emotional — Yvette — while talking about her — Je t’aime — He would even — Embrassez-moi — lapse— Yvette — into French — Je t’aime — Je t’aime — Je t’aime.