The coach carrying the services reunion tour trundled through the forestry as Roger gazed out of the window. The concrete road was endlessly long and he could not recognise any features of the countryside which was flat and monotonous with the occasional village and farm. The rhythmic thumping of the tyres against the joins in the road surface struck a chord and he started humming a tune in time to the beat. The daylight faded and then he could see little of the land.
Behind him there was a low babble of chatter which quietened as the vehicle entered a town square and slowed to a stop. The men rose and shuffled in their brightly polished shoes to the door; all were wearing smart blazer jackets with medal ribbons. They collected suitcases from the side of the vehicle before making their way to the front door of a nearby hotel. Flags hung limply from poles above the entrance, Roger recognised the banner of the Royal Air Force and the national flag of the country, others were of a variety of crests that he didn't recognise.
The local mayor was waiting resplendent with a gold chain over his stout belly but with dusty shoes, he noticed. Some speeches were made to welcome the heroes who had fought for the country and liberated it from the occupying forces, but soon Roger was able to enter the hotel and locate his allocated room. An evening meal was served in the dining room and due to the late hour he adjourned to bed.
The next day he was able to explore the tiny village and try to recognise the landmarks. After a couple of hours he found himself climbing a low hill with an area of woodland to the side. He strode more confidently as he saw a tumble of fallen stones at the side of a field, then an old farm in the distance. It was the place he was sure, he now recognised the whole scene as he looked all around. There before him was the farmhouse where he had stayed with two women for several months risking inevitable capture.
As he neared the buildings a dog barked and a woman stood in a doorway and stared with hostility. He approached her and spoke hesitantly. "Good day, do you live here?"
The woman replied, but in the local language that he could barely understand when he had lived there. Now, after the years of disuse it was unintelligible.
He tried again, asking if the woman remembered a girl and old lady who used to live there. However the woman was not helpful, she spoke no English and eventually he politely thanked her for her time and returned to the village.
Back in the hotel, he rejoined his companions for luncheon. The men were to stay in the hotel for another night; in the afternoon a visit was organised to a nearby wartime camp, a highlight of the trip. The camp was notorious; the place where many people had met their end in horrific circumstances.
As he sat in the dining room and waited whilst cold meats were served by waitresses in white blouses and frilly aprons with their hair tied back in severe buns. Roger found himself idly watching the backside of one of them enclosed in a tight black skirt as it moved amongst the tables. The firm buttocks swivelled beneath the thin material, showing the tantalising lines of underwear. Then the waitress turned to him and stood still.
He looked up at her wondering if she had a question - or had noticed him checking out her ass. But she was stationary, staring into his eyes. Then he saw the face that he had sought; a little older, more care-worn, but the girl from the farmhouse in that bygone era was standing before him looking as if she had seen a ghost. Slowly the plate that she was holding tipped over until the slice of processed ham fell silently to the floor.
* * *
She sat quickly on a vacant chair facing him. "It is you, come back," she said, tears welling in her eyes.
"Yes," he replied. "I came to see you again."
Suddenly she moved and was in his arms. There were no words between them but he became aware of a voice shouting behind. It was the owner of the hotel, the mayor who had welcomed the party earlier.
The woman jumped away and picked up the fallen piece of meat. She ran off with it to the kitchen and the hotelier quietened.
Roger sat at his table and waited, and soon she returned with a fresh plate. "I see you afterwards. I can't speak now." She scurried away and he ate his scanty meal silently, nervously anticipating the continuation of the reunion so briefly interrupted.
After the food was eaten he rose and left the room, then he found that she was following him up the stairs. He turned and faced the girl; she spoke first. "I have waited for you to return, I was afraid it would never happen."
He took her hand and led her into his room. They sat on the bed holding hands and he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I'm so happy, I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.
"I was sent to a prison camp hundreds of miles away after I was captured, and since I was repatriated home I've been running the shop in my village. I never married; never met anyone to compare with you. I've been trying to get back to this area to find you again, now here I am," he explained. "What happened to you?"
"My Grandmother and I were taken by the Gestapo, she saved me by saying that it was just her that looked after you in the farm. She disappeared, I never saw her again. Afterwards I had to live with friends in the village, I had nowhere to live. The farm was taken from us, I could not go back there."
Roger raised his hand and stroked her greying hair, suddenly she was in his arms embracing him and he could feel her wet cheeks against his face. She pushed him backwards on the bed so that he was looking up at her ample breasts and he heard two light thumps as her shoes fell to the floor.
"Are we allowed to know each other's names now?" he smiled. Previously they had decided that it would be safer for all if they never knew each other's identity.
"We are safer now, so I expect we may; I am Justine."
"Finally after all this time, I can tell you that I am Roger." He traced his fingers around her face and wiped away her tears, then continued slowly downwards over her neck and shoulders. "Justine. A pretty name, a pity that I never knew it before."
"They were dangerous times, it was necessary." She hitched her knees up so that she was kneeling over him and placed her palms on his ribs, stroking him up to his shoulders and down his arms, feeling his muscles.
She reached up and unpinned her hair. The locks fell free around her face as she leaned forwards and unbuttoned his shirt so that she could run her fingernails down his body, leaving faint red lines on his pale skin. She took his head in her hands and kissed him deeply, gripping her knees around his hips. "Such a long time, I thought you would never return. But it is you."
Roger lifted his hands and supported her breasts, feeling her brassiere. He slowly unfastened her blouse and she shrugged it away. Then she pressed herself to him so that he was able to unclasp the rear of the bra which fell loose as she sat upright again. Her breasts fell to his hands naturally, as she pressed her groin against the rising hardness beneath her.
He felt the soft flesh in his palms, heavier but almost as firm as he remembered. The nipples were darker and larger but then she leaned over him, her body was against his face and her scent was in his nostrils transporting his memory back to those distant, heady months before their sudden separation.
He felt her hands loosening his trousers and grasping his cock as he came to be fully erect. Then she eased herself up and he felt himself being enveloped inside her soft warm moistness. He could feel the tight edge of her underwear against him and he realised that she had eased her panties to one side rather than waste time removing them. She sank slowly down to feel him deep inside before moving quickly, grinding and humping. When she arched her back and threw herself backwards to feel him more firmly, she came explosively and then fucked him furiously, trying to maintain the orgasm endlessly. Then he came, spurting a steady flow into her.
Afterwards he lay still catching his breath whilst she still moved her hips against his softening penis, trying to prolong the moment. She kept him inside as she bent down to embrace him, her breasts crushed against his chest.
Eventually he slipped from her and they separated. Still lying facing each other, she adjusted her panties and skirt to cover herself but leaving her top comfortably exposed. He lay with his trousers undone to his knees, his cock flaccid but still enlarged.
