soldier. But every man has his breaking point.
"Ma'am, I need to check you over for any injuries."
I felt a slight shiver go though me.
"Of course..."
I sat down on my makeshift bed while he brought over the basin of water I had used for washing in and some towels. His large hands were rough and calloused and yet surprisingly tender as he ran them over my tingling flesh, starting with my feet and working his way upwards. The same laser-like intensity that he had shown in infiltrating and securing the caves was now focussed completely on me as he worked his hands slowly up my body looking for any sign of injury or maltreatment.
He was precise and methodical: beginning with my ankles and calves he slowly worked his fingers over every inch of my exposed flesh, pressing and probing with the deft, sure touch of a professional. As he smoothed his hands up my thigh, kneading and squeezing the flesh with an unhurried steadiness, I closed my eyes and lost myself in the relaxing progression of this unexpectedly sensuous massage. I felt all the anxiety and fear that I'd accumulated during my confinement uncoil itself from my body and simply melt away as I surrendered myself to this stranger's touch.
After he had finished with my legs, leaving me quivering with delight, he stood up and moved behind me. For a moment I thought he was done, but then I felt his hard, calloused hands brush away the long hair at the back of my neck and begin to gently caress my nape, sending shivers coursing through me.
"You know, for a soldier, you have a very delicate touch."
He gave a little amused chuckle to himself.
"Yes ma'am. This is a very important process, and I have to be as thorough as possible." He laughed a little again. "Although I'm not used to doing it on someone as soft and pleasing to the eye as you."
I felt a hot rush of blood blossom in my cheeks - I was blushing like a virginal schoolgirl. "Well take your time," I replied. "I'm not going anywhere."
His hand slid round and cupped my cheek tenderly. I could feel the strength in his fingers, despite his gentleness. I turned my head against his open palm and kissed it, my lips as light as a butterfly against his granite-hard hand.
I lay back against him, the full and rounded curves of my body spilling into his strong, firm arms to rest against his battle-hardened torso. His hands slid masterfully from my shoulders and smoothed their way around my waist, until he was holding me tight in an embrace that protected me from the rest of the world and encircled me in his.
I could hear the rising and falling of his breath next to my ear, smell the heady mix of canvas, sweat and worn leather that suffused his uniform as he held me close to him. I could feel the gun at his hip press against me, the metal surprisingly warm in the dry desert heat. After all the worry and boredom of my ordeal, all I wanted to do was lose myself in this rugged, mysterious man, give myself over to him completely and trust my tender body to his capable, supremely masculine ways.
I undid my shirt with trembling fingers, and his hands traced the curves of my exposed cleavage, hooking his thumbs under the spare, flimsy cotton of my bra. He brought the straps down over my shoulders, kissing the nape of my neck as he did so, sending a tumult of inflamed passion coursing through my body. In an instant he had removed it completely, and his hands returned to cup the weight of my bulging breasts as he explored the tenderness of my stiffening nipples.
He buried his head in my hair, taking in my womanly scent, and I felt the coarse starched fabric of his uniform against my back. Reaching up behind me I found his head with my hand, his short army haircut bristling beneath my questing fingers. Waves of pleasure danced across my skin as he played with my ripe, bulging breasts, running his hands over them and kneading them tantalizingly.
"I want you," I whispered breathlessly, "I want you right here and right now."
He
"Ma'am, I need to check you over for any injuries."
I felt a slight shiver go though me.
"Of course..."
I sat down on my makeshift bed while he brought over the basin of water I had used for washing in and some towels. His large hands were rough and calloused and yet surprisingly tender as he ran them over my tingling flesh, starting with my feet and working his way upwards. The same laser-like intensity that he had shown in infiltrating and securing the caves was now focussed completely on me as he worked his hands slowly up my body looking for any sign of injury or maltreatment.
He was precise and methodical: beginning with my ankles and calves he slowly worked his fingers over every inch of my exposed flesh, pressing and probing with the deft, sure touch of a professional. As he smoothed his hands up my thigh, kneading and squeezing the flesh with an unhurried steadiness, I closed my eyes and lost myself in the relaxing progression of this unexpectedly sensuous massage. I felt all the anxiety and fear that I'd accumulated during my confinement uncoil itself from my body and simply melt away as I surrendered myself to this stranger's touch.
After he had finished with my legs, leaving me quivering with delight, he stood up and moved behind me. For a moment I thought he was done, but then I felt his hard, calloused hands brush away the long hair at the back of my neck and begin to gently caress my nape, sending shivers coursing through me.
"You know, for a soldier, you have a very delicate touch."
He gave a little amused chuckle to himself.
"Yes ma'am. This is a very important process, and I have to be as thorough as possible." He laughed a little again. "Although I'm not used to doing it on someone as soft and pleasing to the eye as you."
I felt a hot rush of blood blossom in my cheeks - I was blushing like a virginal schoolgirl. "Well take your time," I replied. "I'm not going anywhere."
His hand slid round and cupped my cheek tenderly. I could feel the strength in his fingers, despite his gentleness. I turned my head against his open palm and kissed it, my lips as light as a butterfly against his granite-hard hand.
I lay back against him, the full and rounded curves of my body spilling into his strong, firm arms to rest against his battle-hardened torso. His hands slid masterfully from my shoulders and smoothed their way around my waist, until he was holding me tight in an embrace that protected me from the rest of the world and encircled me in his.
I could hear the rising and falling of his breath next to my ear, smell the heady mix of canvas, sweat and worn leather that suffused his uniform as he held me close to him. I could feel the gun at his hip press against me, the metal surprisingly warm in the dry desert heat. After all the worry and boredom of my ordeal, all I wanted to do was lose myself in this rugged, mysterious man, give myself over to him completely and trust my tender body to his capable, supremely masculine ways.
I undid my shirt with trembling fingers, and his hands traced the curves of my exposed cleavage, hooking his thumbs under the spare, flimsy cotton of my bra. He brought the straps down over my shoulders, kissing the nape of my neck as he did so, sending a tumult of inflamed passion coursing through my body. In an instant he had removed it completely, and his hands returned to cup the weight of my bulging breasts as he explored the tenderness of my stiffening nipples.
He buried his head in my hair, taking in my womanly scent, and I felt the coarse starched fabric of his uniform against my back. Reaching up behind me I found his head with my hand, his short army haircut bristling beneath my questing fingers. Waves of pleasure danced across my skin as he played with my ripe, bulging breasts, running his hands over them and kneading them tantalizingly.
"I want you," I whispered breathlessly, "I want you right here and right now."
He
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