Granary Secrets

Meet me tonight in the old granary near the mill.

As I tended the wounded G.I.s lying on cots in the cellar, my heart raced with excitement as I repeated the words of that brief note. The man I had married eight months ago was here in my French village. We would finally be together again. I had been forced to hold on to the memory of the handful of times we made love, and I thirsted for more. At last, perhaps we would get the chance!

Gil was a major in the Army when I met him. In 1943, he and his platoon passed through our town. We had a truly whirlwind romance and got married; I think it was because I was so alone since my parents were killed in the bombings, and I needed someone. Gil was so strong, so manly, and so devilishly handsome. Besides, my father was American, so I shared that bond with this dashing Army officer.

We had two wonderful days and nights together, and then he had to move on. He had orders. I couldn’t leave my uncle and aunt, who were trying to build a resistance cell amongst compatriot Free French. Every able body was needed. We had to relocate some seventy kilometers to the south when Nazi bombs destroyed our town. My uncle took over a small bakery, and we used that as a front. For almost a year, we protected fugitives and aided American and British soldiers and pilots in returning to their lines.

This very evening, as a summer thunderstorm pounded the cobbled streets, six men showed up on our back doorstep. They were American. Two were badly wounded. Imagine my shock and joy when I recognized the officer leading the squad. It was Gil! I had forgotten how he lit up my being with just a glance. I saw that he was much more weathered and scarred, his hair grayer, his eyes sunken. But nothing could dim his smile or roughen his kind heart.

He and two of his men left to scout around, and on his return, he gave me this note. My aunt fed them and made sure the injured soldiers were stable. Gil went out again, I assumed to keep watch. Once I was sure I could be spared, I slipped away. I had to see Gil.

The warm rain soaked my clothes in moments and took all the curl from my hair, but I cared nothing about that. I darted quietly from street to street until I had left the town limits and gained the woods. I knew exactly where the granary sat. Despite the darkness, I found my way. The little stone building was well-hidden among the trees, no longer used and overgrown by brush. I approached the door cautiously, ensuring I hadn’t been followed. German patrols sometimes made it this far out. But it seemed the storm had kept them from venturing out tonight. I hurried inside.

The one room was deserted, the only furnishings a bench, a table, and an old mattress, maybe left by the last owner. I felt around and found a candle on the table and lit it with the matches I kept in my pocket.

Suddenly the door opened. I swiveled, a flash of lightning illuminating the tall form in the doorway. Gil. He set down his machine gun, and I ran into his arms.

That first connection of our bodies thrilled me. Though we both were wet through, we were warm. I felt the heat radiating off of his skin. He bent his head and kissed me ravenously. I returned the kiss, realizing that I had eight months’ worth of desire to unleash. So did he, as I could tell from his hungry kisses.

“Oh, my darling, it has been so long!” I moaned against his mouth.

“I know. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you here,” he answered, claiming my mouth again. “My sweet little Teresa!” The way he kissed me—deep, wet, open-mouthed kisses—made me weak. I trembled in his arms and pressed myself harder into him.

We barely needed words. All we knew was that we didn’t have much time, not with every minute so unpredictable, and we needed each other. I wanted to touch Gil all over, and I tried, but he sensibly stopped me so we could take our clothes off.

“We’ll soak the bed,” he explained with a little grin.

I slid my shoes off and tore off my skirt and blouse and underthings. Then I sat down on the mattress to watch him undress. How tantalizing that was! He was all sinew and sun-bronzed skin, big in the shoulders and lean in the hips, with bulging arms and strong, hairy legs. When he turned to throw his clothes on the bench, I went hot at the sight of his tight ass. The wanton woman in me yearned to dig my fingers into those taut, virile muscles as he made love to me. My eyes then settled on his bold manhood, thick and stiff and nestled in black hair. My core moistened and warmed.

He came to me, but instead of taking me in his driving heat as I thought he might, he slowed his movements and honored my body with his eyes and his hands. I felt beautiful, which in all these months, I rarely had. He began whispering his admiration as he touched me in ways I had only dreamed of.

“Baby, you’re so smooth and silky… you feel wonderful to me. Your skin, your hair… I could breathe in the scent of your hair forever. I dream about you every night, baby. Ever since we parted, I’ve had to keep the picture of you the way you looked in my arms that last night clear in my mind. The way you panted and arched under me, so sweet and fresh in your virgin nakedness… your long hair splayed over the pillow… your soft legs wrapped around my waist… your velvety lips swollen from my rough kissing… the brightness in your gorgeous eyes as you watched my face… oh, baby, I’ve had to yearn for all that again. You’re more beautiful than you were, if that’s possible. I love you, darling wife. My beautiful bride. I can’t be away from you like that.”

“My Gil, my sweet husband,” I murmured, my hands combing through his wet black hair. “I love you, and have longed to be with you, too.” I took a breath as his fingers strayed over my breasts, round and soft and sharply peaked. He squeezed them, and I moaned. Gently he laid me down. Then he slid his hand down my belly and right into the dewy thatch between my thighs. My voice cracked with a cry, and I lifted my hips to his touch. He kissed me again as he stroked and teased me, helping me to open to him.

My hand wasn’t idle. It touched his bare hip and closed around his smooth, throbbing length. I felt him tense and inhale. Reveling in the response I could draw from him, I fondled him more. His breathing grew quicker, more staccato.

“My God, you’re good,” he broke out, edging closer to me. He increased his attentions to my now slippery entrance, going so far as to slide a finger in. I wriggled, welcoming the deeply intimate touch. Our tongues mated lustfully.

His caresses were amazing, and I would have bathed in them for hours, but I needed more. I had to feel again the power of his body as it claimed mine the way only a man can claim a woman. I had to give all of myself and take all of him.

“Please, Gil, love, I want you,” I whispered, kissing his shoulder and chest. “Make love to me. I have to feel you inside me. Make me yours again.” By the light of the candle, I caught the flashing of his incredible gray eyes, made more eye-catching by the stern black brows arched over them. He sucked on my neck.

“Gladly, Teresa,” he said in his rich, deep voice. He eased on top of me, holding my wrists. I felt his hot thickness moving along my wanting flesh. The muscles clenched each time he burrowed into me. I twined my legs around his ass. The sight of his rigid cock caused my body to react instantly. The wanton woman in me yearned to dig my fingers into those taut, virile muscles as he made love to me. My eyes then settled on his bold manhood, thick and stiff and nestled in black hair. My core moistened and warmed.

We writhed together while the storm surrounded us. Outside was drenching rain, lurid lightning, deafening thunder; inside we were drenched in sweat and the nectar of our sexes, while love and desire burned longingly in our eyes, and our ears were nearly deafened with thudding heartbeats and rushing blood. I moaned and gave wispy shouts as he licked my breasts and tugged at the pointed nipples with his teeth. Always, we were moving. His thrusts bounced my body and jolted me with carnal electricity. I lost all senses except that of pleasure.

Gil roared, shaking as he pushed into my body. I vaguely felt his manhood pulsing as my loins clenched, and my world went dark for a moment. Everything felt so good. Then every muscle went limp as I returned from the crest of the wave. Gil breathed harshly, his face pressed into the crook of my neck.

We kissed tenderly as our climaxes ebbed out. For a while, we just lay quietly together, arms and legs tangled. I breathed in his manly scent, and he stroked my hair. But the night was ours. We had to fill it with as much love as we could. Time and again, between resting, we came together. I had longed for my soldier all these months, and he had ached for his bride. Only by making love until we had nothing left could we store up enough of each other until we should meet again.

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