William Cyr - The Headmaster

"Fich mich! Fich mich!" Erica begged, once again lapsing back into her native German. "Fuck me harder! My cunt needs it so bad! Harder!"

Their sexual organs fit together like two beautifully oiled pieces of machinery. Erica was moving her hips around under him as though they had ball bearings in them, and he could feel the walls of her juicy young cunt snapping at him, as if trying to grab his cock and suck it deep inside her young body. Her small hands worked down his back and wound up clutching at his hips, her fingernails digging in like spurs.

"Harder! Harder!" Erica begged, although she was breathing almost too hard to get the words out. "Make me cum! make me cum! Harder!"

Faster and faster the two of them ground against one another. The young blonde girl behaved like a young tigress under him, clawing and scratching and squirming and throwing her hips around in every direction conceivable. Yet, at the same time Frank completely dominated her yielding feminine body. Erica felt helpless under his powerful masculine thrusts, and her response was largely an instinctive form of self-defense. At times, the forward thrusts of his massive prick were almost brutal, and the relatively inexperienced young girl wondered if she could really stand it much longer. She had never dreamed that sex could be such a savagely raw, primitive experience.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" she managed to gasp as she felt the initial waves of an intense orgasm beginning to sweep over her entire body like an oncoming tide of raw sexual pleasure.

The young girl threw her hips upward as Frank slammed forward with all his might. His aching cock plunged into her wanton cunt right up to the hilt and burst like a cannon. As the hot masculine lava poured into her lust-convulsing cunt in voluminous spurts, Erica erupted as if her young body was experiencing an earthquake. Her entire body trembled uncontrollably and, hugging Frank tightly with all four limbs, she emitted one half-strangled cry of joyous delight after another. Frank could feel the intense convulsions deep in her cuntal channel grabbing and snapping at his prick as if trying to draw out all of its magic juices. Her climax was much more intense than either of them could have imagined, and Erica found herself crying and trembling with a raw, purely physical intoxication that she had never experienced before.

For the next several minutes, the two of them lay together with their organs united while they struggled to catch their breath.

"That was some fuck, Mr. Hopkins," Erica told him when he had at last dismounted. "Perhaps normal sex like that would be good for both of us."

Frank shrugged. "You'll be going back to Germany in a few days," he reminded her. "And I doubt if we'll see each other again."

They returned to the living room and Frank watched as the young blonde snapped on her black garter belt and sat down to replace her stockings.

Although his physical desire for the moment at least was spent, he still watched with fascination as she carefully smoothed the sheer black stockings up her white legs and fastened them to her garter belt.

"I think we will see each other again," she told him, her eyes bright.

"I think we're destined to see more of each other."

"No," Frank replied quite quickly, attributing her lack of sophistication about the state of the world to her youth. But as he watched her carefully adjusting her stockings, he began to have second thoughts. Perhaps she was right, and the two of them were destined to meet somewhere again. But it won't be for several years, he told himself.

Four years later.

"Since we're going to be working together on this case, Mr. Hopkins, perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me about yourself," said the beautiful young American girl sitting across from him. Her bright pink lips were very full and sensuous, and her dark eyes sparkled with teasing promise.

Her name was Elizabeth Morris.

Prickteaser! That was the first word that occurred to Frank as he studied the features of the young girl who had been assigned to work with him in the puzzling wartime venture. But there was no doubt that she was a very appealing young woman. Beneath her thin white blouse he could clearly discern a well-filled white brassiere which came to two steep points, and from her manner he could tell that she was proud of her full figure. The restaurant table concealed the lower half of her body, but he had previously noted her beautifully rounded hips and full, shapely legs.

"There's really not much to tell," Frank replied quietly, his voice giving no indication that he was aware of the understatement he was making. "Since I was a pilot, I went into the R.A.F. the minute the war started. I was assigned to a fighter pilot base designed to protect London and the south of England."

The girl was listening quietly, her eyes beaming with admiration that girls often displayed for fighter pilots. Frank had seen that look often back in England. He remembered his last sexual conquest before leaving for the States. For some reason he could no longer recall the girl's name. She was a member of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, and the two of them had been trapped in a sudden and completely unexpected air raid.

They embraced suddenly, impulsively, instinctively, their mouths and tongues meeting. There was no time for them to remove their uniforms.

Frank's hand slid up under her thick WAAF skirt, over her cobwebby black stockings and toward the elastic of her directoire knickers. He slipped his finger under the elastic and up to the top of her stockings. The touch of her warm bare thighs sent quivers up and down his spine, and her small hands began working to release his suddenly pounding manhood from his fly.

Moving up her velvety thighs, Frank's fingers soon found the deliciously warm, waterfall of feminine juices. As his fingers separated her plump cuntal lips and explored the wet interior, her small hand closed tightly around his pulsating, blood-filled penis. The girl hastily removed her knickers, and with her uniform skirt up to the waist, lay back with her girlish charms exposed in the framework of her black garter belt and stockings. Frank quickly mounted her and plunged his painfully throbbing cock into her wet wonderland. The spontaneity of it all and the danger of the air raid more than made up for the lack of foreplay, and the two of them climaxed together in a joyous celebration of life.

Frank could still vividly recall how she had tenderly wiped him off afterwards with her silken knickers.

"To stay alive in the Battle of Britain," Frank continued his narrative,

"you had to be either lucky or good, or a little bit of both. I was lucky but I wasn't so good. After I got shot down, I figured the war was probably over for me. Then Intelligence came up with this operation in the States, and here I am."

He left unsaid what his dinner companion already knew. His former pupil, Erica Schmidt, was alleged to be a Nazi spy operating in wartime Washington, D.C., and according to the briefing that Frank had received she had apparently successfully compromised a high U.S. official.

Frank's mission was to find her and, if possible, use her as an unwilling double agent to transmit false information to the enemy. The mission was complicated by various factors, one of which was that Erica had apparently undergone an operation to disguise her identity. Another factor, which he didn't like to think about, was the possibility that she would recognize him first and take steps to eliminate him.

"And how do you propose to go about this operation?" Elizabeth asked, taking a cautious look around to see that no one was listening. "I was told that you have some special qualifications for the job, but apart from that I'm completely in the dark."