I don't know much about politics, and I don't really understand world affairs. I don't really know much about anything, and maybe that's why I've made so many mistakes in my life.
* * *
I certainly don't know why the United States invaded my country. What this forgotten little land in Eastern Europe could have to offer, I couldn't guess. My husband says it is because America is evil, but I don't think so. I don't know about such things, but I know my husband is not a good man. He drinks and he shouts, and he takes pleasure in my misery. Perhaps it was his hatred of anything western that led to my admiration of the same things.
I don't understand many things, but I recognize a fool, and my husband is such a man. Like me, Edgar knows nothing. Unlike me, he pretends to have a deeper understanding of the world than others, an understanding he has developed alone, supported not by facts, but by his own ego.
"If they invade us," he would say, "then the war will last for many years to come."
I kept silent of course, and soon the troops of the US landed. Within two weeks virtually all resistance had been subdued. It had been as easy as taking eggs from the chickens they said. US Marines soon appeared dotted around our streets, and my husband took heavily to the bottle. He would drink for hours and ramble, almost incoherently. On one such occasion I lost my senses.
"Perhaps life for us will improve, now that the Americans are here." I remarked optimistically. Almost as soon as I spoke, I regretted my words.
My husband gazed up at me, bleary-eyed, the first time he'd looked at me in days. Rage bubbled in his face.
"You ignorant bitch." He murmured sluggishly, and as he did so, he swung the bottle at my face. I ducked back, almost out of range, but the glass still caught the side of my head, knocking me from the chair to the floor.
I lay stunned, bringing up my legs into a foetal position as he stood over me.
"Stupid whore, you'll learn respect this time." He yelled.
I screamed as I heard the familiar sound of his belt being drawn out of his pants. I begged for mercy, listening to his angry yells, the belt gripped firmly in his hands.
My eyes closed, and body tensed, prepared for the first blow, but no blow came. Instead an unfamiliar voice, in an unfamiliar tongue.
"Back away, against the wall."
The words were meaningless to me, my English was very poor at that time, but the voice sounded like the movie stars I so cherished. I looked up nervously. My husband, hands raised, was backing into the corner. At the doorway stood a tall, broad-shouldered Marine, rifle loaded, directed at my husband.
His face was small and round, cropped blonde hair and deep-set blue eyes. He glared intently, composed, and for a few moments the image seemed too surreal, like a movie taking place in my kitchen.
Without removing his sight from my husband, he gestured for me to stay down. I sat and watched him edge toward Edgar, turn him and press him hard against the wall. I couldn't help but observe the contrast between the two men. My husband, pot-bellied, stained vest, greasy hair, and this new man. Tall, shapely, his uniform appearing to be almost painted onto him, such was the way it seemed to hug the contours of his figure.
After searching my husband, the Marine sat him in a chair, pulling his arms back behind him, fixing them tightly. He did the same to his feet, before gagging his mouth. Satisfied Edgar was unable to move, he fixed his stare on me for the first time.
He knelt at my side, putting his hand on my temple. I felt like I would pass out, not from the blow, and subsequent blood on my forehead, but from the sheer delight of having this man so close to me. His eyes seemed filled with a mix of sympathy and arousal. I glanced down, noticing Edgar's drink had spilt over my white dress, the wet areas becoming practically transparent. My cheeks flushed at the sight of myself. I had no bra, and my nipples had grown quite hard from the coldness of the alcohol. There was perhaps another reason, also.
He took a cloth from his pocket, held it to my head, our eyes fixed on one another.
"What's your name?" He spoke. "Do you speak English?"
I didn't understand, but I guessed the meaning.
"Milina" I whispered.
"Is this your husband?"
He pointed at Edgar. I stared, lost for words, confused and nervous, searching through the few English words I knew for something useful.
"American?" I asked. He smiled. "Yeah, that's right."
He inspected the cloth, there didn't seem too much blood, though about this I hardly even cared.
"Milina, listen to me, I'm going to get help for you. Wait here, don't move your husband, I'll be back soon."
He lifted me to my feet as I tried to make sense of this incomprehensible speech. He sat me down, and my heart sank as he made his way to the door. Where was he going? Was this the first and only time I'd ever see him?
Desperately I called out to him in my own tongue. He turned, pity in his eyes, waiting. Waiting for what? I had nothing to say, I only knew I couldn't let this man leave. I had just moments before he would smile and depart. I searched my brain, and acted on the only thing I could think of to prevent his leaving. I pulled the strap of my thin white dress down over my shoulder, over my elbow, exposing one round, milky white breast.
It was crude, ridiculous, but the only thing I could think of. Lacking words, I needed to be blunt. He paused, looking down at me. For my slim figure, my breasts are quite large, and have always attracted attention. Edgar began to rage through his gag, but I kept my eyes locked on the man in the doorway. He considered the scene for a lengthy time before, to my utter joy, he closed the door from the inside.
Our apartment is very small, one room serves as kitchen, living room and bedroom. The bed was directly behind me, seperated by nothing more than an old curtain. I stood up and began to back towards it.
Wary of my intentions, he held up his rifle, aimed at me. I understood his fear, perhaps I was trying to trick him. I was fearful myself, what was I doing?
I stood still, let him approach me. He did so slowly, his eyes swimming up and down my figure, lingering over my exposed breast. When close, he placed his weapon on the table, reached out, and brushed his fingertips over my naked skin, my succulent breast.
I was not used to such sensitive actions, and this simple touch produced a wave inside me I couldn't resist. His hands ran down my sides, feeling the natural curves of my body. I held his arms as he did so, strong, olympic sized arms. I looked up into his face, and again had the sense I was in a movie, but this time the feeling was more real, more sensual.
He turned me around, and pulled my body tight into his, his face buried in my long, dark wavy hair. His firm hands reached around, seizing my breasts, fondling them gently, as I leaned my head back onto his shoulder. He pushed the remaining strap of my dress over my shoulder, allowing it to fall to my waist, exposing both of my pert, fulsome breasts.
My hands reached back and I ran them up and down his thighs. They were firm, toned, harder than any other man who'd pressed himself against me. I wanted to see these thighs naked more than anything, I could picture them in my mind already. Their sturdiness, the strength contained within them.
His lips touched my cheek first, they were warm and smooth. The fine hairs of his unshaven face ran roughly across my skin as his mouth descended to my neck. He sucked at my flesh more passionately, as his fingers fondled my breasts more urgently.
We stood like this for minutes. Occasionally his hands would reach down over my stomach, vanish for a moment, reappearing on my thighs, squeezing them firmly. After a long time, I felt his hand glide up the inside of my thigh, brushing delicately over my pussy, beneath my panties. I responded by grinding my ass hard into his hips, feeling his erection beneath his uniform.
I half turned my head, taking his tongue into my mouth for the first time, opening my mouth wide for him. I turned to him fully, pressing my breasts into his hard chest, squashing them up against him, as his fingers ran over my naked back.
By this time, Edgar was candescent with rage, subdued only by his shackles. He rocked back and forth on his chair, desperately trying to free his hands and legs, his cries muffled by the gag around his mouth. I glanced at him momentarily, sitting behind the Marine. You deserve this, I thought, my lover's tongue dancing around my ear as I tugged at his clothing.
In my state of heightened passion, the buttons of his uniform were too much for me. After a few moments fumbling, I was edged authoritatively backwards towards the bed. I sat back on it, pulling my knickers down my long legs in one stroke, kicking them off, watching my lover undress.
My eyes roamed his exquisite body as it came into view. After his boots came his jacket, followed by a tight white t-shirt. I marvelled at his glorious chest, and washboard stomach as he began to unbutton his pants. My lust filled expression turned for a moment into joy filled giggling, as I glanced at his cheeky, happy grin. I pulled my dress over my head, throwing it to the ground.
His pants hit the floor only a moment before my mouth did. He was blessed. He strode to the bed, and I threw myself forward, feeling the perfect sensation of his naked skin against mine. He pushed me back a little, moving down over my tits, lapping at them, sucking in my nipples, twisting his tongue around them. He lay down, raising me on top of him, bringing my breasts down over his mouth, pushing his tongue between them, enjoying the softness of my skin rubbing against him. He reached back for the first time, gripping my tight asscheeks, squeezing them.
I pushed forward a little, allowing him to run his hand between my legs, gliding it over my pussy and anus in one long, slow movement.
The shudder of delight that shot through me made me sit up straight. I was straddling him now, a new found confidence in my body, gained from his delirious look of pleasure. I sat high above him, massaging my breasts, squeezing them together. He groaned at the sight, my little hands trying to contain my deliciously firm breasts. I sank back down onto him, kissing his chest, sliding down his body, my long hair trailed across him.
I held my tits in both hands, squeezing his cock between them. His skin rolled up and down, in time with his moans, his eyes watching me intently. I admired his cock close up, thick and heavy, the head glistening. Unable to help myself, I ran my tongue across it.
As much as he wanted me to suck him, I knew I had to have him inside me. I straddled him again, my legs wide. His big hands held my waist tightly, as I lowered myself eagerly onto his meat.
It was bigger than I'd ever taken before, and despite my wetness, it took time to get him all inside. He teased me also, entering me and exiting a number of times, enjoying my desperation, my total need to have him fuck me.
In a single sudden movement he rolled me over, onto my back, and then my stomach. I was soaked and begging by this point. He slapped my ass playfully, as I stretched my arms out ahead of me, holding tight onto the bed post. I was lying face down, but I adjusted my neck, and looked across the room to Edgar. His violent motions had turned the chair over sideways. He was lying on the floor, still tied up. He glared at me helplessly as I smiled back.
My Marine listened to my words, unable to understand them, unaware I was taunting my husband. He teased my asshole with the tip of his hard-on for a few moments, later teasing my clit. I Raised my hips a little, his arm beneath my waist holding onto me. Finally, he entered me fully. I thrashed and wailed, screamed and cried, orgasms shooting through my body, as he fucked me for close to an hour.
His cock never seemed to tire, never diminished, it just drove harder into me still. He ran his hands down my back as he fucked me, biting and licking the back of my shoulders, kissing my hair, whispering words in my ear I didn't understand.
The sweat poured off our bodies, soaking the sheets until finally, when I felt like I might pass out from the sheer, brutal pleasure, he came.
His juices filled me, my muscles eagerly sucking them up deep inside myself. He lay down on top of me, and I fell asleep. A happy, desperate sleep, his whispering voice filling my ears as I drifted away.
* * *
That day changed my life forever, in ways I could never have imagined. He was a kinder man than I ever thought existed, more perfect than even the movie stars. Had I not tempted him to stay, I would never have been able to leave my husband. I would never have learned English, never had a chance to come to America and live my dreams.
I know a lot now, about a lot of things. And I thank him.