Love’s Mask – Part 3

Editor’s Note: This story is Part 3 of a series. You can read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here.

*****

In the six months that Linda had been married to Lt. Max Candler, each had learned a lot about the other.  Yes, the circumstances were still tense.  Max carried on his façade of heartless Nazi officer in order to fool his comrades and rescue prisoners whenever he had the opportunity.  Linda kept their apartment as welcoming as she could, though with the war going so badly here in France, she had to be very frugal.  It was now December of 1942.  A gloomy winter was approaching, with snowfall and cold winds.  And everywhere in Paris, the Nazis tightened their hold and their unstoppable terror.

In the Candler apartment, a low fire burned in the fireplace.  Linda lay contentedly in Max’s arms on a mattress close to the crackling flames.  He had given her a magnificent orgasm, and then she’d brought him to his own.  These were the moments both looked forward to, when Max came home from long hours at SS headquarters, driving through bad weather, his hands and feet ice-cold and his nose red.  Linda would strip him, and herself, draw him down to this nest in front of the fire, and make love to him.  He returned it with fervor.  The bitter evening outside was forgotten as they created heat in the cozy little room.

She was stroking up and down his arm, thinking to herself how odd it was that this man was her husband.  To the world, he was one of Hitler’s elite officers, specially selected and trained to eliminate those who threatened his power.  A sadist.  A killer.  Only Linda knew the real man.  He’d long ago revolted on Hitler in his soul, but was forced to keep playing the game lest he be “liquidated.”  The stress of this state of affairs had eaten at his spirit, and only the advent of Linda—the gentle, courageous American woman—in his life had kept him from losing his sanity.

She quietly studied his face.  Max’s eyes were closed in serene laziness, a typical expression after his sexual release.  Damp hair, brownish-gold, splayed above his forehead wildly.  That was due to both his own crazed, sweating movement as they made love, and her clutching hands on his head.  But in spite of the post-coital peace relaxing her husband’s features, Linda could see the strain, the exhaustion.  The skin beneath his eyes was thin and dark.  Lines were showing around his mouth and across his forehead.  And she saw some gray hairs around his ears.

“I wish I could take you back to the States with me,” she said softly.

He sighed heavily, not opening his eyes.  “I do not know that your countrymen will welcome me.”

“They would have to!” she rejoined, lifting herself on one elbow.  “You aren’t a Nazi.  Once they hear what you’ve done to save lives, they would have to see what a hero you are.”

Now he opened his eyes to look at her.  “I am not a hero, schatzi,” he observed in a faraway voice, using the German word for “darling.”  “You forget, I have killed.  Murdered.  There is no other word for it.”

With a troubled furrow on her brow, she lay back down, cuddling into the crook of his shoulder.  She wrestled with the moral dilemma put before her.  Max had indeed executed prisoners, some with his own hand.  Yet if he had not, he would have jeopardized the position that made it possible for him to save anybody.  One wrong move and the ever-watchful Gestapo would arrest him.  And he knew very well what happened to traitors of the Reich: they were tortured, then shot or hanged.  So… was it pardonable that he allowed some to die in order that others lived? It went back to that horrible yet sometimes very true saying that it was better for a few to die to save the majority.  Every cell in Linda’s body empathized with Max, with the conflict he must face daily.  How she wished it could be over!  If there was any way to flee Paris…

Max’s rich, accented voice broke into her thoughts.  “You do not know how you help me, Linda.  Having you, being with you… it gives me something to live for.  Do you recall that day you boldly marched into my office and demanded I free the Jewish prisoners?”

She smiled wryly.  “Yes.  You must have thought I was screwy.”

“At first.  But your loyalty to principle allured me, perhaps as much as your lovely face and body,” he said, his voice deepening and his lips nipping at her ear.  “I needed a woman like that.  I could not trust any other type.  Since then, I am more enraptured with you.  You have saved me, my sweet one.”

Turning so that she faced him right on, Linda gently traced his cheek and jaw.  She loved the feel of her nude body against his.  “I thank God that I can help you bear this.  But Max, I’m still only human.  I may fail you.  Or perhaps… I may not survive this war.  One can’t be sure of the future.  That’s why I long with all my heart for you to love Christ.  He can’t fail or leave you alone.”

Max studied her face while covering her hand with his.  “Before I knew you, I thought little of God or of Christianity.  There was too much to do in the fight against Hitler.  But… the way you speak of it, as if God was present and caring… that intrigues me.  And I see how it affects you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, touched.

“You are strong,” he explained, drawing her closer.  He kissed her shoulder.  “Whatever gives you such peace must be remarkable, since it cannot come from the mad world around us.  Thus… I am willing to learn about it.”

“Oh Max!” Linda whispered joyfully, warm tears in her eyes.  “Thank you! I knew you weren’t opposed to my faith, but I wanted you to search it out for yourself.  To prove that it’s real!”

“If you will help me, I will pursue it,” he promised.

Linda could think of no way to communicate her glad gratitude except by kissing him.  So she did, deeply.  He returned it with increasing eagerness.  The fire of his tongue in her mouth ignited her need, and she wriggled against him with a slight moan.

“Ah, do I detect you are ready to go again?” he asked with a sly smile.

She laughed.  “If you are.”

“I think so.  But perhaps you will touch me and make certain,” he suggested naughtily, pulling her hand down his belly towards his crotch.  Her fingers met with firm, hot male flesh.

“You are a superman in one area,” she observed with sensual admiration.  His ability to get hard so soon after climaxing amazed her.  On some occasions, he took her four or five times.

“Thank you.  I can only attribute it to the luscious woman who fills me with such lust,” he murmured, proceeding to kiss her again while taking himself in hand and rubbing his cock along her slit.

She squirmed at the contact of intimate flesh touching intimate flesh.  The feeling never got old.  Whether they made slow, sweet love or rutted like animals, the joining was always fresh.  She nuzzled his lips and slid her vulva along his veiny shaft, moistening it with the combination of her own abundant juices and his recently-ejected semen.

“My God, you are oozing all over me,” he muttered.

“I love to feel you fill me,” she returned, her voice thin and soft.  “Max… do it again.  Come inside me.  Make love to me and then blow your creamy seed into me.”

“Damn it,” he bit out, angling himself and sliding in with one swift move.

She inhaled, enjoying the fullness of his siege into her body.  Already slick and stretched from earlier, she felt no pain as he entered.  He began to stroke in and out, not all the way, but enough to tease her opening with his penis’s flaring head.  She held onto his sculpted biceps and rocked her hips in rhythm with his.  They often made love in this position, facing each other while lying on their sides.  It was intimate and allowed for movement on both his part and hers.  Besides, she liked to hook one leg over his and undulate her pelvis around his thick member.

They didn’t speak much; little gasps and grunts of approval were adequate encouragement.  Yet sometimes Linda found herself getting wild.  How could she help it with such a rugged, sexy German man for a lover? Her drenching passion had to have an outlet.

“Yes… yes, Max… take me… claim me… oh, you’re so good!  Long, and thick, and hot inside me!  Oh, I love it!  You fill me to the brim with your cock.  I could ride you forever.  Never stop… don’t ever stop… oh Max! Oh my God…”

Sweat had broken out on Max’s face.  He devoured her with hungry eyes, pumping his hips in short but deep thrusts.  He was up to his balls inside her and the sensation was driving him towards uncontrollable delight.

“You enjoy my cock pounding into your cunt?” he asked breathlessly.  He could be spicy as well, and she loved it.

“Oh yes!”

“I feel your beautiful cream sticking to my balls.”

“Max! Oh Max!”

“Shall I go harder? Ram myself into you until you can do nothing but scream my name?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Oh yes!”

He increased the pace, slapping into her until she juddered with his every thrust and yelped at the impact.  The exertion sent the blood into his face and pulled his breath out in gasps.  Such wild lovemaking would mean he would be exhausted afterwards, but he relished this.  No one else had the privilege of taking this magnificent woman’s body and bathing in the slippery heat of her core.  She deserved the grandest pleasure, and he would enjoy every second of giving it to her.

Both were shouting by now, gripping each other with fingers that would leave marks.  They met and broke in the mad dance of need and unreached fulfillment and eager giving.  Linda felt that wonderful surge wash through her loins.  It was like fire, but wet, boiling inside her.  Then came the clenching and the trembling of her whole body, a long, stifled moan, then the loosing of her inner muscles and a flood of feminine nectar.

Max watched and felt her go over, and that sparked his own orgasm.  He pushed into her as far as he could humanly go, roared with his face buried in her hair, and let the streams of cum pulsate through his swollen meat.  Linda held onto him, feeling him throb between her legs, basking in the knowledge that she alone would ever receive his hot sperm.

“Yes, my love, fill me, fill me with your seed,” she murmured, kissing his damp face.

He choked a couple of times, the intensity of his ejaculation still wringing the life out of his tender balls.  It took a minute or two for him to get his breath and his vision back.  Then he looked at her, blinking and grinning.

“It is always good with you, schatzi,” he declared, caressing her face with gentle fingertips.  “Was it for you? I try to bring you to climax first.”

“Oh Max, you’re wonderful.  I feel wonderful.”  She stretched lazily, feeling him slip out and a flow of cum follow.  “Darling, would you do this again… in about five days?”

He tilted his head curiously.  “What happens in five days?”

She smiled, but this time it was shy and womanly.  “I’ll be fertile.”

The words sent a thrill through him.  He lifted her chin so she could meet his eye.  “You want me to put a child inside you?” he asked softly, almost in disbelief.

“I know we’ve been waiting, what with things so uncertain, but now… I want a part of you to grow within me, just in case…”

“I know,” he intercepted her.  “It may not be wise, bringing a child into this dark time.  But then, perhaps it will prove a blessing.  Well then, my sweet, in five days I shall ravish you and plant my seed in your very delightful garden.”

With a smile, Linda wrapped her arms around him, pulled him down so his chest pressed into her warm, pointed breasts, and kissed his mouth rapturously.