Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 19

In the morning, after another furtive trip to the toilets, the next logistical issue was food and drink. Ordinarily I took my meals in the cookhouse, but that was not an option with Sandie. So, we opted to catch the first bus into town and find a café. When we had had our fill, I paid the bill and we headed, on foot, towards Sandie’s home. I was more than a little concerned that I would be confronted by an irate father, for keeping his young(ish) daughter out all night, doing God knows what to her. But even when we kissed and parted company, and Sandie walked in, shouting “Mum, Dad, I’m home.”, there was no reaction from her parents.

Sandie had family plans for Easter Sunday, so we had arranged to meet up again on the Monday. It would also give us a night or two to get some better-quality sleep before the next round. This time, having had a temporary pass for two weeks issued on our first night, Sandie could come on base unescorted, by showing her credentials to the gate guard. It was early evening, and she came to our block, found Garth’s window, and knocked to let me know she was there. I noticed she had a largish tote bag with her, rather than the smaller shoulder bag she normally carried.

As planned, we headed for the NAAFI to relax there for a few hours, but found due to the unit leave, only the ‘pigs bar’ was open. As per its derogatory nickname, it was extremely basic, not full-on spit and sawdust, but close. There were also a few of the base permanent staff guys there, who were quite worse the wear for drink, and soon started getting a bit leery with Sandie. So, we quickly finished our drinks and left, I was not going to subject her to that shit. Though in fairness, she gave as good as she got.

We both knew, or at least expected, the evening would end up with us in bed, but neither of us wanted that to happen too early. Perhaps our success in not being discovered on Friday had made us a bit blasé, so we threw caution to the wind, and we entered the block and went to the common room. I retrieved the cider flagon from the room, and we settled down to watch some cheesy Bank Holiday comedy film on the TV. It was risky, but if we were caught there, at least it would be less of an issue than being caught naked in bed.

About an hour into the film, and a couple of glasses of cider in us, we were cuddled up, on an easy chair, laughing at the comedy. Without warning, the door opened and there stood Paddy. My heart had missed a few beats, and I must have gone quite pale. We stared at each other for several seconds until Paddy spoke up. “Oh, hi guys, I heard the TV and wondered who was in. What are you watching?” He showed no surprised at seeing Sandie sat there with me. Uninvited, but very welcome (it wad a ‘common room’ after all) Paddy came into the room, closed the door, and sat down on an adjacent chair.

I made the introductions and offered Paddy some cider, and when he had retrieved a clean mug from the tea table, poured for him. We watched the end of the film, making the odd inane or smutty comment at some of the raunchy dialogue. When the film ended, the evening news came on. As was quite common, one of the lead stories was about another sectarian killing in Belfast, drawing a venomous “Bastards!” from Paddy; Belfast was his home town. Hearing this, Sandie reached out and laid a sympathetic hand on Paddy’s arm. He smiled and thanked her for her concern. To my surprise, this led into a pretty deep and meaningful conversation between them about the “Irish Problem.” Nothing confrontational or sectarian, just about known facts and figures, why he had decided to join the British armed forces, his hopes, and dreams for the future of Northern Ireland, that sort of thing. I joined in where I felt it appropriate but was in awe of her grasp of such a complex issue and mainly just listened in silence.

Sandie and Paddy had really connected, and the conversation progressed onto other subjects and they chatted on for some time. But it was getting late, and Paddy rose, saying he had a day out planned tomorrow and needed to go to bed. He said he hoped to see Sandie again, soon, winked at me and left the room, closing the door behind him. I gathered Sandie in my arms, kissed her full on the lips and exclaimed “Wow, that was intense.” Trying hard not to be patronising, I told her I thought she was wasted, sitting at that sewing machine, day after day. She needed to get out of there and into something more commensurate with her intelligence and abilities. She teared up a bit, and said she was working on it, but still needed to decide what she could be good at. I suggested politics, which made her laugh, but she did not dismiss the idea.

We started to kiss more passionately our ardour rising. Sandie stood and took me by the hand and started to lead me to the door. I stopped, switched off the TV, gathered our possessions and left the room, killing the lights and closing the door behind us. The block was in darkness, Paddy had gone to bed, and we were effectively alone again.

We headed to Garth’s room, openly via the toilets this time, no point in being furtive now Paddy knew we were there and locked ourselves in for the night. We immediately stripped off our clothes and got down to it. I could not help but notice the small bruises on her breasts from my biting. I told her I was not comfortable with doing that again, but she brushed it off as not being a problem. We would be more careful in future, but that she really liked a bit of rough handling of her tits and that it helped her cum and have great orgasms.

Our sex that night was as intense and pleasurable as it had been that Friday gone. Except this time, she blew me before I went down on her. And our fucking was more novel too. The bed was just too small for anything too elaborate, but when I was rubbered up, Sandie moved to kneel on the bed and grasped the crossbar, like I had previously. “From behind please.” She purred, another first coming up.

I got up behind Sandie, who reached back for my cock, and again guided me into her. The sensations I felt from this position were overwhelming. I felt deeper into a vagina than I ever had before, the depth of penetration was insane. A few moments to settle myself and I started to gently thrust but was not doing it right. Every time I would pull back, my cock would fall out. I tried adjusting position, to no avail. Patiently Sandie offered “Hold it in with your hand.” I reached my right hand around her hip and cupped it over her mound, trapping my penis in her hole. I started to move my hips again, this time staying rooted inside her. I soon discovered that I could also use my thumb to massage her clitoris, which made her cry out, “Tits too, Titus!”

I reached my left hand around to fondle Sandie’s breasts. I gave her nipples firm pinches and tugs but was not going to get really rough again. It was enough though. I had come to recognise her impending orgasm, and she was soon close. I increased my thrusting and clit diddling, which tipped her over the brink. As she came, she pushed her legs backward, sinking to her belly on the bed. I followed her down managing to stay inside her and kept on thrusting. This revised rear entry position was even more stimulating for me, and it was only a few more minutes of ins and outs before I was shedding my sperm into rubber once more.