Author's introduction: Despite our advancing years, neither Richard nor I were even born during the time of the Second World War, when the United States Army was "over paid, over sexed and over here." But I'm fascinated by how many women from the UK "went with" visiting G I Joes. If they could do that, why couldn't a Hot Wife and her cuckold join in the war effort too? This is my totally made up version of what might have happened if such a situation arose. As in all my stories, all participants are aged eighteen, or older and all sex occurs between consenting adults. Please consider using the scoring system and leaving a comment. All authors appreciate feedback. Now strike up the band... "From the Halls of Montezuma..."
Olwen Simpson looked impatiently at her wristwatch. It was gone ten o'clock, and there was no sign of him. Sighing, she got up off the hard bench she had been sitting on for the past two and a half hours and walked back down the corridor towards the desk she had passed when she had been ordered to report to the War Office in Whitehall. She hadn't gone ten yards when a uniformed soldier came out of nowhere and challenged her.
"Where do you think you're going, love?" he asked sarcastically, pointing his rifle at Olwen's chest. The corridor wasn't particularly well lit, and so Olwen moved back until she stood under one of the lamps that hung from the ceiling.
"Oh, fuck! Um... I mean, beg your pardon, ma'am." The soldier could now see that Olwen was wearing the uniform of a Women's Auxiliary Air Force, and the tabs on her shoulders meant that she outranked him by several degrees.
"Are you lost?" he continued. "No-one is allowed to wander around these corridors unescorted. Even Mr. Churchill has to have an escort."
"It's him I was ordered to report to," Olwen replied dryly. "But that was over two hours ago. I've been kicking my heels outside some door marked "No Entry" since well before eight o'clock this morning. I appreciate that there's a war going on, but it seems to me to be disrespectful in the extreme to keep me waiting so long. It's not as if I've got nothing to do. I was due at Bletchley house hours ago!"
"Bugger Bletchley! They can wait for you, just as you've been waiting for me," came the familiar rasping voice, and Winston Churchill lumbered past both the soldier and Olwen. His pink skin always reminded Olwen of a new born baby, and he was reeking of brandy and cigars, even at this hour of the morning.
The soldier snapped to attention. Olwen didn't bother. Churchill might be the darling of many of the citizens of Britain, depressed as they were by this interminable war. But to Olwen, he was a bully, a drunk and a political chancer. He'd crossed the floor of the House of Commons twice in the past, and all to further his own political ambition. She despised the man, although even she had to admit that he was probably the best person for the job, given the present circumstances, with his ego and his political and familial connections.
"What are you waiting for?" he growled. "I'm a very busy man! Come on, follow me! I haven't had my proper breakfast yet, and I'm starving!"
Olwen trotted after him, trying to breathe in the smoke from his cigar. She was a cigar smoker herself, but unlike Churchill, who seemed to have an endless supply of top quality Cuban cigars, Olwen hadn't had the pleasure of smoking one since this bloody war had started nearly five years ago. These days, she had to make do with a briar pipe, and she smiled to herself as she recalled how hard her cuckold's tiny cock used to get when she smoked it in front of him. She hadn't seen Richard to talk to in nearly three months.
Richard was a major in the army these days, but the seniority of his rank didn't make up for the pathetic size of his cock, or for the fact that in the days when Olwen had allowed him to fuck her, it went off within minutes, long before she was even close to her own orgasm. Was it any wonder, therefore, that she chose to fuck men other than her husband?
Richard adored being a cuckold, and early on in the war, he often hid in the wardrobe in their bedroom and watched Olwen as she was fucked by soldiers, sailors and airmen alike. On one memorable occasion, he'd witnessed Olwen in bed with his driver, a foul mouthed East end girl, called Alice, who had sworn and cursed as Olwen used her fingers and her tongue to get the girl off. When Olwen fisted her, she'd squirted like one of those hoses the ARP wardens used to put out the fires caused by the Nazi bombers during the blitz. All these memories came flooding back as she entered the room marked "No Entry" behind the Prime Minister. It had been a long time since Olwen had been fucked, or Richard had played the cuckold. Since being transferred to the Top Secret establishment at Bletchley, she hadn't even been back home. She didn't even know when she'd see him again, given that he was away fighting in the middle east the last time she'd heard.
Churchill took off his Homburg hat and flung it onto the desk before sitting down and looking up at the still standing Olwen.
"Sit down! Sit down!" he growled, putting his cigar in a cut glass ashtray, and picking up the glass of brandy that had obviously been left for him. He drained it in one and put the glass down.
"Now then," he began, "what I am about to tell you is strictly for your ears only. I've heard good reports about your work in Bletchley, and your commanding officer will be informed when you accept the job I'm talking about. I'm not going to ask if you're interested in taking it. You will do it, because I know you realise that we are winning this war, and what you are about to do will help shorten the conflict a great deal."
Olwen looked at the Prime Minister with interest. This sounded promising, she thought, and she settled down to listen to what Churchill had to say.
"Since December '41, when the Americans came into the war, we've been making gains all over Europe," Churchill said in his familiar throaty growl. "But up until now, we've only managed to regain some of the territory that the Nazis took. That's going to change. We are going on the offensive, and we're going to drive Herr Hitler and his jackbooted thugs back from whence they came. And then we're going to utterly destroy them!"
Olwen recalled how Churchill thought of himself as a great orator, and his use of flowery language irritated her.
"And what part do I have to play in this scheme?" asked Olwen sarcastically. "I lead a team of code breakers at Bletchley, and we are doing vital war work. Even if I was capable of firing a machine gun, or ordering men to advance, I hardly think that moving me from Bletchley is going to shorten the war!"
Churchill picked up his cigar, and puffed on it a few times.
"I've heard all about you, Mrs. Simpson," he rasped. "Had you been around in the early part of this century, I have no doubt that you would have been one of those damned suffragettes! You'll do as you're told, young lady, and if you don't, you'll find yourself over your husband's knee, on the end of a bloody good spanking. Which," he concluded with a huge grin, "I very much think you are in need of!"
"Richard is fighting in the desert with Montgomery," Olwen replied dryly. "And anyway, my husband treats me with respect. He'd never lift a finger against me."
"No, that's probably true," agreed Churchill, and he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a thin dossier. "Well, you'll soon have the opportunity to talk with Major Simpson. I've arranged for him to be flown home. He should be well on his way by now. He has a vital part to play in the scheme I am about to divulge to you."
"I don't understand infidelity," he continued, deliberately not looking at Olwen. "Now then, let me see."
He opened the file and scanned the first page, before closing it again, and returning it to the drawer it had come from.
"Seventeen men in five years," he said softly. "And your husband's driver too! If you were my wife, I'd expose your filthy desires and then I'd divorce you! You've had carnal relations with members of all three of the armed forces! And you've slept with another woman too! Have you no shame?"
"Not one iota," replied Olwen defiantly. "And for your information, I have not committed adultery, nor am I guilty of infidelity. Richard and I have an understanding. I fuck whomever I choose, and he gets to watch. He's seen me with every single one of my lovers!"
If Churchill was shocked by Olwen's use of the word 'fuck', he didn't show it. He merely puffed on his cigar and leered at her.
