THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READING ONLY
--------------------------------------------
Sometimes liberating a city can quickly lead to some very liberated behavior . . .
--------------------------------------------
They say that Brussels is a dull city nowadays, full of Euro community bureaucrats. Well, I don't know about that, it's been a long time since I was there, but I'll certainly never forget the first few days I spent in the place. That was in September, 1944, just after the Guards Armoured Division had liberated it. Not that I was a Guardsman, or driving a tank. I was only a very young Corporal working as a service corp clerk. It didn't matter to the Belgiums, they were so glad to get rid of the Germans that every British soldier was a hero to them. They couldn't do enough for us, which was a real change from the reception we'd received from the French.
Mind you, nobody needed to look far to see that the Belgiums had been having a rough time under German occupation. The country might not have been actually starving but it weren't far from it. As for cigarettes, soap, booze, the only way to get any of that stuff in Brussels was on the black market, and if you needed to ask how much it cost you couldn't afford it. So when I put some highly desirable consumer items in a webbing pack one afternoon and went out looking for a good time, I thought I might be in with a chance. What I got was an experience of a lifetime.
I hadn't been on the tram for five minutes when two women came on board who were dressed up to the nines. They were far more smartly turned out than any woman I'd seen in wartime England for a long time. Maybe they'd kept their best clothes for the liberation. One of them was tall, with close cut black hair, a trim figure, and wearing a pair of large pearl ear rings. What caught my eye most though were her hat and her dress. The hat was round and flat, with a thin veil on it which came halfway down her face, and the black dress she was wearing had a repeating motif in white beads sewn all over it, a kind of Chinese style depiction of a cat or a long tailed dog. This must be the famous continental style chic I'd heard so much about. The other woman was wearing a close fitting tweed skirt and a matching belted jacket which was open down to the waist to show off a lot of lace on the front of her blouse. A blouse which seemed to have all kinds of interesting movements rolling around inside it like massive Pacific waves flowing into a tropical lagoon. To tell the truth the woman's figure was so sexy that I didn't even look up at her face as two pairs of gorgeous legs came teetering closer and closer to me on high heeled shoes.
I think it was that jacket which really had me gawping. The hemline stopped just above the Belgium femme's hips -- and speaking for myself, the first thing which crossed my mind was trying to imagine what she would look like without her skirt. The pair of them were both stunners and I wished I had the nerve to speak to them. But there wasn't going to be any chance of that, the tram was almost empty, so they would go past me to another seat. And then, when they sat down beside me with the dark one at my elbow, I wouldn't have been more surprised if Himmler had come along in full dress uniform to collect my ticket.
"Hello," she said. "Isn't it a lovely evening?"
I finally picked my jaw up off the floor and tried to answer intelligently. The woman said she spoke English so well because she'd lived in London for a while before the war, and she'd been there because her husband was a banker. I could well believe that, considering the way she dressed and her commanding physical presence. She said her name was Monica and she introduced her friend as Philice.
Philice looked about the same age as Monica, about thirty, with blonde crimped hair and a round fair face with innocent blue eyes. OK, maybe her eyes were innocent but her smile was about as innocent as Eve selling apples off a barrow in a Soho back street. On top of her head was a kind of rakishly tilted scotch bonnet made of grey material with a single peacock's feather sticking up at one side of it. A smattering of freckles ran down her white neck and then trailed off down into that froth of lacework wrapped around a pair of tightly holstered thirty eights. I figured that explained that knowing smile -- no girl who had to defend that much frontage could be innocent about anything. But you can guess how I felt when I finally thought to look down at their hands and found that Philice and Monica were each wearing a wedding ring . So I was out of luck.
But we kept on talking and pretty soon I realized the ladies were very interested in whatever I might have in that pack. But they weren't of any interest to me: what could I do with a couple of married women? But then Monica asked if I was going to go to a bar and get myself a hostess to sit on my knee. Although I was surprised she would ask me a question like that I said that I probably would. And then Monica said that I should come back to her apartment and she and Philice would be my hostesses. Which sounded interesting enough for a minute but then I thought that she meant a hostess in the social sense. You know, a sit down and have a cup of tea kind of hostess.
Then Monica leaned forward close enough to breathe into my ear and began whispering.
"Ian, instead of having us sitting on your lap like club hostesses, perhaps you would like to bend us over your knees and spank us. The English like to do that to their girls, don't they? I knew a man in London who did that to his maid in front of me because she'd spilt his glass of sherry. I'd never seen anything like it before. He used a hairbrush on her bottom and the maid seemed to like it so much. Then the man told her to fetch a tray and offer it to me. And do you know what, Ian, the tray had six or seven hairbrushes on it, all with gold and jewels set in their handles and the man -- he was a real knight, would you believe? -- he said that I if I wanted to I could take the maid's place and keep the brush afterwards as a keepsake. Would you like to know what happened next?"
What happened next was that the three of us got off the tram outside a big apartment building that looked really flash. The sort of place that in London would be on Park Avenue or somewhere, and where a working class git like me would never be allowed in. But Monica and Philice were still holding my arms and they just about frog marched me inside. Monica said the lift wasn't working so we'd have to walk up the stairs. I was still too surprised by what had already happened to say anything much.
I soon recovered on the way up to the first landing. Enough to grab a squeeze on the bottom on each side of me and see what the reaction would be. I thought maybe the women would try to stop me straight off but they didn't. What they did do at the landing was that Monica took off her hat and gave it to Philice to hold while she kissed me on the mouth. On the mouth and in the mouth, with her tongue almost wrapping itself around mine. I thought I might choke to death and I ought to enjoy myself while I was going, so I reached out and gave one of Philice's hooters a squeeze. She laughed, holding Monica's hat up in the air so it wouldn't get creased as I tried to handle both of her plump tits at once with one hand. Then Monica stopped kissing me and said that if I went up to the next landing I could have a special present.
That sounded promising, so I just about pushed both of them up the stairs with another double handful of prime female rump to enjoy on the way up. Philice stumbled once or twice because of her tight skirt but held onto my waist to keep her balance. When we got to the landing Monica said that one of her boyfriends had always taken her underwear off before taking her into his apartment, just so she knew what was going to happen inside it. Would I want to do the same?
Yes, I would like to do that, thank you very much, I told her. Then I bent her over the banister with one hand and I was so excited by then I could have done it without any effort even if she'd tried to stop me. She didn't though, she just stayed there, giggling and holding onto her hat to stop it falling off as I hauled her skirt up over her shapely legs and then stared at the pair of creamy silk cami-knickers at the top of them. Since she'd been the one who'd started the talk about spanking I gave those warm inviting buttocks a friendly slap or two. Monica yelped and kicked up her heels in fine style, until I put a stop to that by hooking my fingers into the waistband of her fancy knickers and whipping them down as fast as a French flag at a surrender ceremony. All the way down, right around her knees, with everything between them and Monica's waist laid out ready for inspection.
There was one part of her I decided to check on there and then. A hand between her legs, right up hard, the length of my top finger along the length of her crease, and then a gentle stroking as if I was sawing wood instead of peeling open warn flesh. And presently, just inside the opening fruit, I found the first trickle of juice. Monica grunted, clenched her thighs against my hand and rode on it as Philice pressed herself against my back and licked my ear again. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Until I heard something clattering above my head and two cleaning women carrying mops and buckets came down the steps.
They were both about fifty I suppose, in worn black dresses, one of them wearing wire framed glasses and pushing a huge bosom around in front of her, the other one dark faced and sporting a faint moustache on her upper lip. The cleaners stopped and looked at the three of us. Then they both smiled and laughed, and walked up to me, on either side. Monica's skirt had fallen back around my wrist, and then, and I couldn't believe it, these two old girls grabbed the skirt and held it up for me while Monica was looking around to see what was happening.
She wasn't the only that was getting confused but when Philice grabbed one of the buckets, tuned it upside down and then sat one it I was totally lost. She called out to Monica. And Monica translated: "You have rubber? A contraceptive?"
Yes, I had one, in my battledress top pocket, I took it out, Philice took it from me and gave it to the granny with the glasses to hold as she undid my fly buttons. Only the granny didn't just hold it, she ripped the top off the packet with her teeth like John Wayne pulling the pin out of a grenade as Philice eased my prick out into the open, waving it around with her hand with a look of concentration on her face as if she was a conductor giving an orchestra the tuning up signal with a baton. Her and granny glasses put the sheath against the tip of my hard on and then Philice leaned forward with her mouth open. And the next thing . . .
