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Untitled story about wounded soldier + nun
🕑 Added 2022-09-18 15:02:00 +0000 UTCWounded Soldier is taken care of by a german nun
In a fictional war.
Authors note: I must apologize if my English is worse than in my other stories, as I continuously switched between English and German. Neither of which is my first language.
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When a wounded soldier is picked up by a nun, and there are no one else around.
With no one else around, a wounded soldier finds a hidden beauty
*
War. War never changes. The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire for its lust for gold and territory. Old men's greed shapes the future of young men. Trenches stretching miles and miles. The ruthless iron of the war machine once again wreaks havoc on the world. I thought we’d never see war on a grand scale again. Not in my lifetime. Not ever again.
Yet here I was. Me and my men. My company. Or at least what was left of them. Which was me. We had been on a patrol when we fell upon two other companies of enemy soldiers. With grit and determination, we had fought them, and killed them. But not without losses. Next to me were Cole and McBrad, and some green kid I couldn’t remember the name of. The small battle had lasted for a matter of seconds, but it managed to kill everyone but me.
I was the lone survivor. I had taken hits to my right calf. I had no idea how many, I didn’t exactly count ‘em. I fell fast. I guess I could’ve stood, adrenaline kept the pain at bay, but I guess we’re conditioned to believe that bullets hitting your body means you go down. It’s in all the movies, after all. I was not the first man down. That was the green one. But I was the last to fire a bullet. I saw the silhouette of the man who shot McBrad and shot him with my handgun, right in the neck.
It all happened so fast. Five minutes ago, we were a group of warm-blooded American soldiers, with lives and aspirations. Now I was laying in the dirt, bleeding out. I blinked at the sun piercing through the cloudy sky. At least I could get a good tan before I fucked off to the after life.
*
I jolted up, only to fly back down. Pain shot through my leg. I looked down. Correction, pain shot through the lack of my leg. I had completely forgotten it was shot to pieces. All that remained was a stump. Someone must’ve chopped it off or something. Fuck, I looked down and I swore I could feel my toes wiggling. “That’s fucked” I thought.
I looked at my right hand. I hadn’t felt it, but there, clear as day, was a bandaged hand. I guess I caught it at something. Bullet, rock when I fell, whatever. “I guess I’m a lefty for a bit.”
But where was I? I looked around. I looked up. Stone walls. Big windows, almost all the way to the floor. Sparse furnishment, just four empty cots. Dried blood surrounded some of the beds. Mine included. I guess I had been picked up by someone who had a habit of picking up wounded soldiers.
“Guten Morgen, Herr Soldat,” I heard. I turned to see a timid young nun was coming towards me. Her face was pale and somewhat thinned out. But she was pretty, despite the uniform and her somewhat hollow cheeks. Sharp features, but clearly of German descent. I’d guess she’d be early twenties.
“Yes yes, gut morgen to you too, miss,” I said with broken german. I had no grasp of the language, but understood some phrases, having picked some up during training.
You have to understand one thing. When in training, camp and deployment, you don’t see a lot of women. Not a lot of soft, caring figures in the US Army. So when I saw this warm, somewhat timid character come over to me, I couldn’t help but get a bit flustered. I couldn’t help but look at her beautiful mountain blue eyes. I knew straight away that this was a good person. Some people you just know. I could’ve easily been left behind out there, but no. This god loving person had got me inside.
“English?” I asked.
“Sehr wenig. Entschuldigen,” the nun said. I was not sure what she said, but she didn’t reply in English, that much was sure.
“Wenn… ist… ich?” I tried. I had no idea if it was correct, but I hoped that the glossary could help. I think ‘wenn’ is where, but I wasn’t sure.
“Sie komment hier gestern, Herr Soldat,” she answered. I was not sure what she said, but I had an inkling I had not asked the right question.
“No Herr Soldat, please. You saved my life,” I said. I looked down at my feet.
“Where… where is my foot?” I asked, gesturing to my lack of a right foot below my right knee.
“Ich… Ich musste haken ist aus… bakterien und infektion, ist kannst nicht… entschuldingen, Ich musste!”
I held up a hand. I knew before I asked. She had no doubt been the one to do me a solid on the leg work. I would’ve no doubt bled to death, got an infection or something worse if it hadn’t been seen to.
“Erh, we have a saying in America. Don’t cry over spilled milk,” I said. She didn’t understand what I said, but the tone of my voice seemed to soothe her. It was absolutely insane that a civilian had that kind of skill. The Army could definitely use a couple of medics like this one.
She sat down next to me, on a small frail chair. In her delicate hand was a piece of bread, and a glass of water. I looked at it quizzically.
“Sie haben verloren viel Blut,” she said, trying to hand me the piece of bread. I smiled up at here, every bone in my body aching.
“You buying me dinner? You haven’t even told me your name,” I said hoarsely, smiling at her. She smiled politely, but I wasn’t sure she understood.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked.
“Emilia,” she said. Emilia. What a beautiful name. I swear, if I ever got a daughter, I’d name her after Emilia.
“My name is Matt,” I croaked. I looked at the bread in her hand, and at her cheeks. There was no way I could take that bread. I’d rather get my other foot shot off. I waved it off.
“Take it. I’ll take… ” I coughed heavily. I guess I had lost a lot of fluids, my throat was like sandpaper. “I’ll take a sip of water.”
She handed me the water, and I took a sip. Slowly, I had no idea how much my body could take at this moment.
“Nein, du brauche ist mehr als mich. Du habst nicht viel Blut, und eine Soldat brauch seine Kraft!” Emilia smiled weakly at me, and laid the bread on my chest.
“Listen, I had a backpack. Did you see a backpack? Erh, rucksack?” I said, motioning my hands behind my back, and straps across my shoulders. Emilia nodded.
“Es ist hier,” Emilia said, lifting it up from the end of the cot. It was wet. Best not think too much about the why.
“Inside,” I said, looking at her for her to understand. She took out a MRE. I had carried extra, just in case of an emergency. There should be at least five or six in there. What can I say, I hoard.
“Two or three thousand calories,” I groaned. “Take one. You’ll need warm water. Erh, warm… wasser, I guess.”
“Ich kann nicht,” Emilia exclaimed. “Es ist für Sie!”. “God, this woman does not deserve you,” I thought.
“For Go— I mean, sorry, I insist. Bitte, habe eine… erh, meal. It’s on me,” I said, trying to get her to accept it. Emilia had saved my life, and looked like she hadn’t been eating well.
She looked hesitant, but she was also hungry. It was obvious. Her face changed expression from one of determined reluctance, to one of need. Almost a pleading expression, but I wouldn’t dare contemplate the cause of such an expression.
“Wasser?” Emilia asked, and stood up. I started to sit up. Emilia placed a firm hand on my chest, pressing me back. I wasn’t strong enough to resist her.
“Bitte, legen Sie. Du brauche sleep/rest, bitte,” she said in a stern voice, leaving no room to argue. I yielded. She seemed satisfied by that and went out of the room.
After laying a bit, I decided I needed to stretch my legs. Leg. Fuck, that’s right. I looked at the frail chair. I grabbed it and forced myself up. It was an effort, making me sick to the point of heaving. But I was a US Army soldier, I wasn’t going to lay around and not get my whereabouts. How safe was this place anyway? And how many others were there?
I humped towards the nearest big window. Outside was a small courtyard, and beyond that a field. That is, that’s what’ve been there in a normal world. The monastery had been bombed, remants of walls and parts of the roof had been blown out into the courtyard. The room we were in was probably one of the few still standing. The field looked like a warzone. Because it was. I could see the fresh traces of war strewn across the flat acres that spread towards the horizon.
I turned to look out the other side, but I forgot that I only had one leg. I crashed to the ground immediately, the chair splintering underneath me. I wailed in pain as tears welled in my eyes. The agony was unbearable.
I heard footsteps hurrying towards the small room. I must’ve made quite the ruckus. Emilia came in, fury in her eyes.
“Ich sagte, Sie brauche deine Kraft, und Sie kanst nicht regain die Kraft ohne sleep. Bitte, legen Sie!” Emilia said firmly. She didn’t sound angry, but rather frustrated by my refusal of remaining in the bed.
Frail as she looked, she managed to get me into my bed again. I had to grind my teeth to not scream in pain. It was my own fault for not listening.
“Wo ist die… others?” I asked, groaning and aching all over. “Where are the others? Deine… Ko…llegin?” I repeated in English just to be sure.
Emilia didn’t reply. She just looked down at the ground and then glanced out one of the windows on the opposite window. I could see a hill out there. A hill with dug dirt, small mounds headed with crosses. They were dead. She had been alone when she found me.
“How long have you been here?” I asked, concerned.
“Drei… nein, vier tag. Die Anderen tot auf Das Artillerie,” Emilia replied in a low voice. I knew numbers. I knew days. And I knew artillery. From what I gathered, she had been here for four days? Alone? I pitied her. I knew I had been in the actual war, but I had my soldiers, my men, my brothers. I hadn’t been alone for more than a few hours, until Emilia found me, really.
Emilia got up and moved to the door. She turned and pointed a stern finger at me.
“Liegen!” she said, again leaving no room to argue.
“Yeah yeah, I learned my lesson. Ich liegen,” I said. Emilia gave a curt nod and went off.
She wasn’t gone long. When she came back, she was carrying a big steaming kettle.
*
“So what did you do before?” I asked, Emilia smiled at me, not really understanding me.
We sat on each our cots, eating chili MRE. It tasted like heaven. Smelled like heaven. Maybe it was divine intervention, making this chili this good. I was in a monastery eating dinner with a young nun, after all.
Food certainly lifted the mood too. The look of sheer enjoyment from finally eating something warm on Emilia’s face was worth the whole war. At the first spoonful, she closed her eyes, savoring the beans and tomato sauce, and then she broke into a beautiful smile. It both pained me to know what she had been through all alone, but it felt good to bring something good into her life again.
“Was habe du… before?” I tried again. I surprised myself with my German. It wasn’t any good, but I think I at least knew more than an American would’ve been given credit for.
“Wir taught Kinder. Matematik, Literatur. Dies war eine schule als ahl eine Kloster,” Emilia replied. Kinder was kids. Matematik and Literatur were the same as in English, more or less. Schule…
“Oh this was a school?” I asked, shocked at my own translation. I looked around. This did look awful like an small classroom.
“Yes,” she said. I looked at her.
“Hah! You know some English!” I exclaimed, laughing.
"Nein, nein, ich nicht ahls,” Emilia said with a shy smile, shaking her head. She ate another spoon. “Und du? Was haben Sie gemacht?”
I took a few moments before the cogs started to slot the German to English translation somewhat in place.
“Oh. Nothing. Ich erh, I joined the Army straight away…” I said.
“Was? Ich versteed nicht,” Emilia said, squinting slightly, trying to catch what I was saying.
“School, then Army. Military,” I said, hoping she understood. And she did.
“Wie alt bist Sie?” She asked. It was my turn to look confused. “Meine jahre ist,” she started, then blinked ten fingers twice, and held out three fingers. 23.
“Und Sie?” she asked.
“Oh. Right. Alt is old. Right, got it. I’m 19,” I said, lifting up ten fingers, then nine.
Emilia blinked several times, looking very surprised.
“Sie ist eine kinder! Was bist Sie aus hier?” she asked, perplexed. I had no idea what she was asking, but I think it was sort of rhetorical from how she said it. And I also think she just called me a kid?
We ate some more in silence. While we ate, I kept catching her glancing at me. I would say they were curious glances, but who knew, I was a bit deranged from having had my foot blown out and my . But the feast wasn’t over, for that reason.
“Look. Dessert,” I said, showing her which pack to pick up. She picked it up and opened it.
“Strudel!” She beamed, looking up at me with delight. She bit into the spongy cookie looking thing and savored it even more than she did the chili. Even out in a battlefield, with a young nun, one could share the the yearn and gratification of eating sugar.
“Mmmm, das ist der best strudel Ich habt essen im uber ein jahr,” Emilia exclaimed.
“Heh, if you say so.” I wasn’t too sure if it was the lack of strudels out here or what, but she seemed to enjoy the MRE dessert. A more jaded person would say it wasn’t worth the hype, but who am I to interrupt the delight of a happy nun.
At first she was savoring it, but then halfway through she chomped it down with abandon. I looked at mine, untouched.
“There you go,” I said and handed it to her. She looked unsure at first, but at the prospect of more sugary, apple-ish ‘pastry’, she didn’t hesitate long. Emilia leaned over and gave me a small peck on the cheek as she accepted the strudel.
I knew it was just a small peck, and her way of showing gratitude, but I couldn’t help but feel my heart rate increase ever so little and starting to feel a bit warm on the inside. I wanted to turn my head and meet her peck, but fought against it. Emilia was very pretty, so that might’ve explained it. Her eyes shone with care and kindness. And her character had shown it too.
But I best press those types of thoughts deep down. Pretty as she was, she was a nun. A cleric of piety and holy… stuff. I wasn’t the Christian type, especially not with all that I had seen in my short deployment, but I was brought up to respect one's religion.
We shared a few silent, satisfied moments as we let the food sink in. Normally I’d like to sit by the window to keep watch, and to scout this building out, but I was weak. Weak and hurt, no less. Even with food in my stomach, I still had lost a lot of blood. Viel Blut, as she had said.
I wondered if there was a chance or maybe contacting the base, or anyone. I knew I might be out of range, but hell, what else was there to do?
“Did you recover my radio?” I asked. I knew she probably had enough with getting me inside, and had surprised me with getting my backpack, but I had to ask. If there was a chance of outside contact, I had to try.
“Nein, ist was zerstört. Ich denk es was getroffen wenn Sie geschossen."
I didn’t need anymore than ‘nein’ to understand the predicament. Well shit.
I started sniffing the ear. There was something wrong. It didn’t smell right. I lifted one of my arms and sniffed under it. Yep, something was absolutely not right. I smelled like caked up blood and shit. I hoped it wasn’t actual shit.
“Ich konnte nicht waschen dich… Du bist zu schwer, ich denk du drown,” Emilia explained.
I just nodded, not having anything to say to whatever she had just said. Emilia stood up and went to the door again.
“I warm wasser,” she said, her nun-habit flailing as she disappeared. I had to say, I was somewhat flattered that she tried the little English she had, even if she didn’t have to.
Half an hour later Emilia was shaking me awake, helped me up and supported me all the way out of the room. I was a little embarrassed, she was clearly shaking under the weight of me. I was 5 foot 10, 190 pounds of military-exercised muscle, after all. Maybe a little less now that I had lost my foot. With a bit of struggle, we managed to get out and down the hallway.
The hallway was… pretty depressing. There were only two doors that seemed to lead to accessible rooms. One I guessed was her quarters, on my left. Opposite was a small bathroom with a bathtub, sink and a toilet. Luxury, compared to what I was used to.
Steam was emanating from the tub, making it look awfully enthusing. It had been a while since I had last bathed. There was a small stool next to the bath where we plumped my ass down. And now for the awkward part. I couldn’t stand properly and my hand was fucked.
Emilia seemed to be aware, and moved right past the awkwardness.
“Dreh dich um,” she commanded and lightly guided me around by the shoulders, so I stood with my back against her. I bent forward and took hold of the tub as Emilia wasted no time in yanking my pants down, then moving up to drag my wrecked shirt off.
And just like that, I stood naked as her God made me, in front of a shy, yet very pretty nun. Standing naked in front of her in such a vulnerable position made me sort of extra aware of that prettiness. Fuck, I needed to get into the water. She was a fucking nun for pitys sake.
I tried to lift one leg into the tub, only to realize I only had one leg. I saw the wall, then the roof, and then I felt myself fall. But instead of landing on my ass on the cold stone floor, I was caught in Emilia’s embrace.
“Vorsichtig!” she said, and with a grunt got me back on my feet. Foot.
“I’ll… I’ll let you just do it,” I said defeatedly and let her guide me into the tub, while she tried to look away at the wall, in an effort to protect my privacy.
Once I settled and started to wash, she moved to the door and stood with her back turned to me. It got quiet. A bit too quiet for my taste. This kind of quiet was too… scary. When we ate, we ate. We saw each other, I saw the room. I didn’t feel as vulnerable. Having almost fallen over just now, and sitting naked in this very comfortable bathtub, I felt very vulnerable.
“Emilia,” I called. She turned her head slightly to show that she was listening, not looking.
“Come here. You don’t have to look, I… I just want to talk. You can have your back turned if you like,” I said. She didn’t move at first. “Please, it’s just so quiet.”
Emilia hesitated, then moved backwards towards the tub. She stopped around my waist, so she could look at me without having to see my junk.
“Thanks. Viel danke,” I said with what sincerity I could muster. I looked at my hand and down at my stump. The stump wasn’t flattering, but I guess it wasn’t the worst job I had seen. At least it was below the knee, I guess. It would be bitch to live without my right foot, perhaps my right hand too, but like I said. Spilled milk.
“Are you worlds youngest MD or something?” I asked. Emilia didn’t respond, staring at me blankly.
“You in the medi— medic—medizi—”
I gestured to my stump and waved with my right hand. She looked down towards my knees, almost by reflex. I saw that her gaze paused as she traced her eyes down my body, but I wasn’t sure where. “Probably bracing herself for the stump. Unless…”
“Medizinish? Bist du fragt mich wenn ich ein Doktor?” Emilia, asked and looked up at me again.
I nodded, hoping we were on the same page.
She laughed, flattered and said, “Nein nein. Ich war eine Student vor dem Krieg. Und ich lernt —”
Emilia went on to talk about something I did not understand. But what I did understand was the expressions she had as she talked. Emilia had a longing look, like she talked about a time that was a lifetime away. As she talked, Emilia sat down on the floor, leaning her head against the tub.
I just laid there soaking in the warm water, finally clean, listening and looking at those narrow lips, talking and moving. How her eyes lit up as she talked. I was lucky. Lucky that I fell where she found me, so she could take care of me. Her motherly warmth and her pretty face had me daydreaming. Nun or not, she didn’t deserve to be alone in this brutal world, thinking of what she had been through up to now.
My eyes felt so heavy. So heavy. My eyelids felt like bricks of lead.
“Matt!” I heard a loud yell, and felt my torso being lifted up from under the water and leaned against the back of the tub.
I looked around confused, everything blurry, unsure where I was, coughing up small gulps of water. As water ran down from my eyes and my vision started to come back, I could see a beautiful freckled face with blue eyes hovering in front of me, only a few inches away. Looking at me with great concern. Looking at me with care. Emilia.
I guess I had fallen under for a bit and Emilia lifted me up, saving me yet again. She looked me in the eyes and smiled, checking if I was okay. That smile. That smile was made to die for. Maybe it was just me, but seeing such a distraught soul smile made everything worth it.
“Ich gesagt, vorsichtig,” she muttered.
Emilia sat down again. This time on the edge of the tub. This time at chest level.
The warm water and the closeness of a woman, even a nun, pretty one at that, made things awkward downstairs. Despite just having almost drowned, I was growing. It actually took me by slight surprise. Even with blood and leg loss, I was still able to produce an erection. I couldn’t help it. Her pretty smile and her caring nature got to me.
But luckily, the way she sat didn’t reveal too much of my hardon. I looked up at her and her smile perked up a bit, almost encouragingly. I heard some small splashes and looked down to find that she was stirring her hand around. Very near to my dick. If there was a god, he would surely send me to hell for the things I hoped for at this moment. While intently inspecting her left hand, her right hand flew slowly back and forth, feeling the water between her fingers. This lasted for a few minutes, her right hand floating back and forth in the water, edging near to my dick only to float away again.
“Es ist kalt bekommen. Das wasser,” Emilia said in a low voice after some ten minutes of me laying soaking, looking at her hand moving. She moved to a rack on the wall, turned fully around and came over with a towel.
My erection was fully on display, but she seemed to throw any awkward inhibitions out the window. Maybe it was for the best. The more awkward we made my predicament, the worse it would get.
Still, her gaze lingered a second too long on my dick and I felt it flex. Emilia barely gave the throb a reaction, but I swear to all the gods that I could see her eyebrows twitch slightly. The moment abruptly ended as she handed me the towel and moved away.
I could get most of myself dry on my own, but she took over when I needed to do my back. Emilia was subtle in how she reacted to my body before, but when she touched my back through the towel, I could tell she was feeling up how firm my muscles in my back were.
After helping me get to bed Emilia retreated back to her room. She lingered by the door like she wanted to stay. Maybe she was lonely too. She had had nothing but corpses and the ruins of a monastery to keep her company. Alas, Emilia decided against it and left me alone to my own devices. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere anyhow.
It was late, and while I was in no condition to travel, I hoped to get her help searching some of the bodies in the courtyard if they had something I could use for the radio. It was a hopeless endeavor, but I had to try, didn’t I?
*
In the middle of the night I woke up with a jolt, sitting up abruptly in my bed, forgetting I was a cripple now. I stumbled out of bed, crashing to the floor and rolled under my bed. That’s when it started. A huge crashing explosion landed way down the field somewhere, shaking the very foundation of the monastery.
Artillery. First one rocket snared across the night sky, then another, then tenfold. It was hard to gauge where exactly, but some serious shelling was getting done. I could see the night sky turn orange outside, as blasts and explosions roared through.
Through the havoc, I could hear her soft footsteps rapidly approaching. I rolled out from under my bed and tried getting back to bed, so as to not worry poor Emilia. It was not the first shelling she had endured, so I didn’t want to make it worse. She hurried through the door and over to me, for a third time she hooked my good arm and hiked me into the bed again.
“Sorry, I fell,” I groaned as I laid back into the soft mattress again. She looked worried, but not about me. I could hear that the shelling was not close enough to cause us trouble, but Emilia had seen her home bombed so she was rightfully on edge.
She still held firmly at my arm, even after I was safely back into the bed. I put my hand on top of hers, squeezing hers kindly.
“It’s okay, darling,” I tried. “It’s down the way. Not here.”
“Ich hasse dies,” she complained, starting to silently tear up. Not wailing, not even a sob.
Slowly, tears trickled down her cheeks. Emilia had seen too much, way too much. She was a gentle soul, not made for war. Nobody truly was, but Emilia was just of another nature. She saved people, taught them literature and math. Not have her home bombed and pile corpses of her colleagues in her own backyard.
“Come here,” I said and pulled her into a tight hug. She didn’t resist. Emilia softly rested her head on my chest as she let out her tears to the tune of relentless bombing.
“Halte mich,” she whispered.
I awkwardly stroked her head, wrapping my ruined hand around her, careful not to mess up the bandage. We laid like this for what was probably hours. I thought for a moment that she had fallen asleep, as she had stopped crying a while ago.
I looked down at her to see if she was still there.
My movement caused her to look back up at me. Emilia was wide awake. She looked determined, like she had reached some conclusion of sorts.
She rose up. She turned. She moved forward. She tenderly braced her lips against mine. Emilia then pressed firmly against me. I could tell it wasn’t something she did often, but I didn’t care. I knew what it meant for her, in her position, to give something of her to me like that.
Emilia pressed her lips against me again, and I pressed back, this time opening my mouth slightly. I felt her tongue shyly brace against mine. I didn’t want to throw her off, so I let her lead the dance, for now at least.
I instead moved my hand to her habit and pulled the vail back, revealing her ash blond hair. I could feel her gasp, but she didn’t stop me. Instead she helped me button up my own shirt. Emilia broke the kissing to rip the shirt off of me. With way more ferocity than I expected.
Emilia then got out of the bed and ripped her gown off. Turns out, nuns go commando underneath their black dresses. And what a body!
Emilia was firm in the right places, soft where it counted, with a decently sized bossom. Shapely hips, just like how I liked them. To think that this smoking hot body was hid under that big dress!
“Oh damn, you’re sexy as he—” I caught myself cursing. We were still in a house of god, after all.
She then bent down to unbutton my pants, giving me a side view of her shapely, petite ass. Emilia was careful not to hurt my injured leg, but yanked my pants down with great determination. As soon as my dick sprung out and my pants were completely off, Emilia jumped back into the bed.
Emilia was not wasting any time. I gasped as her soft, tender fingers wrapped around me. She lifted herself up with my dick in hand, lining myself up to her warm opening. I could feel her heat.
“Wait—” I said, before the point of no return.
“Was?”
“I’ve never… you’re my first,” I said, slightly embarrassed. It was true. I never got around to popping my cherry before I joined the army. And in the army, you don’t really get many chances.
“Und du mein,” Emilia said. Of course she was. She was a nun, for pity's sake.
“Ich will, ich muss!” Emilia’s voice turned into a moan as she lowered herself onto my cock.
It was nothing like I had ever thought sex would be like. The warmth, the wetness, was nothing like I had imagined it would be like. Even if it was her first, and mine, she seemed to be really into it. She was incredibly wet, making it easier to slide down on me.
Until we felt resistance. Her hymen. She hadn’t been joking.
Emilia paused, drew her breath and pressed down further. I felt something tear, and Emilia whimpered in slight discomfort. She fell forward onto me, and rested on me for a bit.
Instead of starting to ride up and down, she took a few moments to kiss and cuddle up against me. I moved my arms around her and pulled her against me tightly as I kissed her back, trying to let her know what this meant to me. She let out a few satisfied moans as we tenderly made out, feeling each other’s warm bodies.
Then finally, after a few minutes of the warm embrace, Emilia sat up again. She gently started to raise up my cock, rocking up and down awkwardly. I moved my left hand to her ass, wanting to feel what that dress had been hiding from me.
Instead of going up and down, Emilia started grinding back and forth. This squeezed my cock immensely, but it seemed to make the discomfort subside for her, as moans of pleasure started to escape her with each stroke.
She bent forward again, planting a hand on each side of my head, grinding hard and firmly against me, panting hard. Her face was construed in a mixture of slight agony, and intense pleasure.
I won’t lie. It felt incredible to me too. Laying her and just taking it from a beautiful woman, being a subject to her pleasure, while also losing my cherry to such a pretty one in such a wild way, under the lights and flashes of artillery fire… the scene was not lost on me at all.
Emilia looked gorgeous riding atop of me, her tits bouncing softly as I started to meet her thrusts
I was in dire need of cumming, but from some hidden divine place I managed to remain firm.
But it was only so much a couple of virgins could take.
I could feel her start to flex and gush on my dick, as I shot my sperm up into her, plastering her insides with my warm cum. I looked up at her beautiful body as she rode me through our unified orgasm.
Artillery shells drowned out as we both cried out in intense pleasure. The orange flickering light outside lit up her body as she closed her eyes, letting out loud screams that I never got to hear. It was such an erotic scenery, see her whole body lit up due to the light from the constant shelling.
She clutched her breast with one arm and her neck with her other, not finding a good place to have her arms, as she pulsed and jolted with our mutual orgasm finally coming down. Finally, Emilia collapsed on top of me, both of us panting into each other. Exasperated breaths filling the small room.
I could feel her soft breasts mushed against me, her sweaty body heaving wrapped around me in another tight embrace. If there was somewhere I could let myself get lost, it would be with Emilia.
After a few moments of catching our breaths, Emilia lifted her head up again and smiled at me. No regrets written across her face. She gave me a soft kiss on the cheek and fell back down again.
Even with the ever flowing artillery shells falling around us, we both passed out sleeping.
*
Epilogue
The morning after the US Army came through, waking Emilia and me up. She hurriedly got me dressed and helped me out. The guys was surprised to see me alive, and threw me on the back of a medic truck. As I drove away, I felt a huge dread fall upon me. I hurried to the back end of the truck. I saw Emilia waving and blew a kiss, smiling profusely. No regrets.
I waved back, and I could feel a pit growing in me as she disappeared further and further away. The truck accelerated down the road, away from the monastery, away from Emilia, away from a beautiful, unexpected night spent. Away.
It was years later, after the war, that I decided to travel back. I found that Emilia had joined the army as well, as a field nurse, shortly after our encounter. She was awfully happy to see me, and somehow I managed to convince her to go on a date with her. Her English was better, and we managed to actually have a hearty conversation in a German cafe.
By some series of miracles we both got back to the US. We married, had kids and lived happy ever after.
