The last thing that Abraham Lincoln Tucker remembered was a loud blast as the tank he was walking next to hit another of Rommel's mines. The force of the blast knocked him across the road and into a small grove of trees, where his helmet protected him from a potentially fatal injury. Instead of a fractured skull, the impact of his head upon the tree merely knocked him out.
He awoke an unknown number of hours later to find himself alone. Only the demolished tank and the bodies of the men riding on it were there to keep him company. He picked himself up, wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve, and picking up his rifle, he looked around, trying to get his bearings.
"Well, Abe," he said to himself, "what the hell do you do now?" He didn't know where the Allies were now, and he certainly didn't want to run the risk of coming up against the desperate soldiers of the Third Reich. The only thing he could do is go the way he thought was west and hope he found friendlies before he found the enemy.
The sun had begun to set over the lush French countryside when he saw a farmhouse in the distance. "Best hope they love DeGaulle more than they do Vichy," he muttered, "or Mama Tucker's favorite son might never make it back to Georgia." Not that sharecropping was his life's dream, but it was the best a black man in the South could hope for, and it still beat the hell out of filling an unmarked grave on an unknown hill in France.
He moved toward the farmhouse, and it lifted his spirits to see the French tricolor flying instead of the Swastika. He didn't know much French, but at least his US Army insignia might get him a meal or two and a place to sack out for the night.
The sound of angry voices reached him, coming from just behind the farmhouse, and he didn't need to know the language to know those were German voices, not French. Unslinging his rifle from his shoulder, he crept forward to see two ragged men in Wehrmacht uniforms standing over a smaller figure, lying on the ground. One of the Germans reached up and ripped the tricolor from the pole and threw it onto the ground.
Then the other German grabbed ahold of the figure on the ground, and Abraham could see that it was a young woman.
"What the hell--?" he said as he saw one of the men grab the woman's arms and hold her from behind. The other man then began to fumble with his belt and the intent became crystal clear. He rose to his feet and began running.
The two men were so focused on their own actions that they were unaware of his presence until he lifted his rifle and sent a bullet through the heart of the soldier who by now had his pants around his ankles. He dropped like a stone, and the other man dropped the woman he was holding to bring his own weapon to bear on the approaching American.
Abraham fired at the second Nazi, his first two shots missing as he was trying to be sure not to place the woman in jeopardy. Then, as he prepared to fire again, he felt a bullet ripped across his side. Swearing as he dropped the rifle and fell to the ground, he thought, "One more damned shot. Got to at least take him with me."
He then struggled to his knees and as the German's next shot flew over his head, Abraham buried his shot squarely in the man's chest. Then darkness closed in around Abraham, and he fell to the ground.
The scent of eggs cooking was the first thing he became aware of as he came back to consciousness. Looking around himself, he saw that he was in a simply decorated bedroom. His shirt and coat were folded neatly on the window sill..
"Where am I?" he muttered. "This sure as hell isn't an aid station." Then he looked through the door to his left and saw a young woman scurrying about the kitchen. "And she's damn sure not a medic."
The woman happened to glance up and saw that Abraham was awake, and immediately, she came into the room.
"You are awake again," she said with a pronounced French accent.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"Overnight," she said. "You are an American, yes?"
"Abe Tucker," he said, "United States Army. Where am I, anyway?"
"You are in my home," she said. "But do not worry about that now. You were wounded. Take some water, and rest."
Abraham tried to sit up, but the pain in his side suggested otherwise, and he didn't resist when she placed her hands on his chest and gently but insistently pushed him down onto his back.
She held a cup to his lips and he sipped a little bit of it before letting his head fall back and closing his eyes once again.
For the rest of the day, this scene was repeated. She periodically changed the bandages on his side and his head and helped him to drink a little bit of water each time. Most of the time he was awake, he saw her sitting in the corner, humming quietly as she stitched.
"What is your name?"he asked.
"I am Monique Duvallier," she said.
"And you live here alone?"
"Oui," she said. "It is not so uncommon in these terrible days."
"Where is your family?"
"Gone," she said sadly. "Gone to fight in the war, like so many others." Then putting the stitching down, she came over to examine his side, and continued, "But we bear it as best we can. Others have lost far more. Now rest."
She paused for a moment, and almost as an afterthought, she bent over him, softly kissing his forehead, before going to the kitchen to bring him some soup.
After a couple days, Abraham's strength had returned enough to for her to be able to help him outside to the porch, where he could sit in the sun while she tended to what few chickens were left.
"You know, I should probably be getting on," Abraham said. "I don't see how you can keep yourself alive on the food you've got, much less me too."
She only smiled at him and said simply, "We will not starve. But you are still not ready to leave and fight again, so do not concern yourself. There will be time enough for that on another day.""
A couple more days passed, and the sound of distant guns became less frequent. They saw no other soldiers, but the farm was not near any major roads, or any minor ones either, for that matter.
Abraham began walking more, first around the house, then around the outer buildings. When he became weary, Monique would gently prod him to a chair or to bed, repeating her gentle mantra, "Rest now."
It was toward the end of the week when Abraham and Monique were sitting on the porch in the evening. Over the course of the evening, Abraham saw Monique glancing over at him from time to time until she laid her sewing down and said to him, "You are going to leave soon, yes?"
"Thinking about it," he answered. "War's not over yet, and I need to be getting back to do my share."
"I know," she said. "I could see it in your eyes." She paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face, then said, "Tell me something, Abraham Lincoln Tucker. Where is your family?"
"Back in Georgia," he said. "Sharecroppers on a plantation."
"You are married?"
"No," he said with a trace of bitterness. "I had a girlfriend, but when the war started, she said she didn't want to be a widow and to look her up IF I made it home."
Shaking his head, as if to clear away the unpleasant thoughts, he said, "Would you mind if I took a bath? I must look like a mess."
She smiled as she put down her stitching and said, "You are alive and that is more than others can say. Come with me."
She helped him to his feet but she led him not to the bathroom but to the bedroom. Seeing his quizzical look, she said, "The bathtub would be difficult for you to get into. I will warm some water and bathe you."
"Oh, but you don't need to- " he began before she placed a finger on his lips to silence him.
"I worked in a hospital at the beginning of the war," she said. "You are not the first soldier to need such assistance."
"Well," he said slowly, "If you're sure."
"Oui, I am sure," she said. "I will be back shortly."
When she returned, Abe had removed what was left of his uniform and had covered himself up to the waist with a sheet. Sitting next to the bed, she dipped a cloth into the warm water and began to gently wash his chest, careful to not disturb the bandage on his side. He closed his eyes and lost himself in his thoughts as she worked her way along his upper body and arms.
Then, without expecting it, he felt her hand slide under sheet and begin to work the cloth gently across his hip and his thigh. He looked up at her and she said quietly, "Pardon moi, but there is but one way to wash." With that, she lifted the sheet off him entirely and gasped, "Mon dieu!" There, nestled between his legs, was his manhood, a good 6" long while soft.
"I'm sorry -" he began, but she interrupted him with, "No, I am sorry. I did not mean to embarrass you. I have simply not seen such a ... " She let her words die off as she washed his legs, first the left and then the right, her eyes never leaving his shaft. In time, her attention had the expected effect, and by the time she had worked her way up to his other hip, his cock had stiffened to its full 9". Both Monique and Abe were breathing a little bit harder as she moved the cloth between his legs and began to gently wash his balls. Abe moaned softly and closed his eyes again, revelling in the sensation.
Then the cloth began to move its way up along the underside of his shaft, causing the first droplets to appear at the tip of the head. Abe opened his eyes as the sensation changed, and discovered that the warmth enveloping the head of his cock was neither her hand or the cloth but her mouth. Slowly and insistently, she took the entire head between her lips, circling it with her tongue as her hand, now free of the cloth, gently moved up and down the underside and occasionally dipping down to caress his balls.
"Oh, god, Monique, you're going to make me - " and she placed the finger of her free hand upon his lips as she began sucking him more fervently. He reached his hand out to begin to caress her back through her dress, and his touch seemed to invigorate her even more. Her lips left the head momentarily as she traced her tongue down along the underside of his shaft and across his balls and his moaning became more pronounced.
His hips trembled slightly, and she immediately moved to take as much of his cock as she could into her mouth again and a few seconds later, he cried out as his cock began to shoot, filling her mouth with his cum as she hungrily swallowed what she could. She didn't let up until he had finished, and then her tongue began lapping up all the cum that she could that had leaked out of her lips.
She then leaned back and looked at him with a mixture of embarassment and desire in her eyes.
"I hope you don't think badly of me, Abe," she said, "but I could not help myself. I've never seen - "
It was Abe's turn to place his finger on her lips to silence her and he said, "I don't think badly of you at all, Monique. It's been a long time. What about you, though? Can I please you as well as you have pleased me?"
The embarassment in her eyes faded and left only passion as she stood and began to unbutton her dress, her eyes locked with his. As the dress fell to her feet, all that remained were a pair of white cotton panties with a noticable damp spot between the legs. Before she could remove them, he took her hand and pulled her down on to the bed next to him. He then lowered his lips to her stiffened left nipple and began to lick and suck on it as he slipped his hand between her legs and underneath the panties to begin gently rubbing his fingertip back and forth along the length of her moist lower lips.
Monique began murmuring softly in French as she pushed her hips forward onto Abe's fingers and pulled his face more firmly onto her breast. He began to circle her nipple with his tongue and in sync with his tongue, he circled her clit with his finger. The dual sensation caused Moniquie to cry out as she began to cum, pouring her juices across his hand and soaking her panties. After a moment she pushed his head away and pulled his hand from her pussy, and leaning forward, she kissed him deeply and wetly and hungrily.
"Mon Dieu, no man has done that to me before, Abe Tucker," she sighed. "How do you feel?"
"On top of the world, Monique," he said, "on top of the world, and with that, he kissed her as hungrily as she had kissed him.
"Mmmm," she purred as she slid her hand down to find that his cock was once again hard and fully extended. "He wishes to play some more."
"He sure does, Monique," Abe agreed. "But I don't know if I can, with my side like it is."
She quickly slipped off her panties and straddled his legs with her. "Let me do the work, Abe Tucker," she said as she rubbed her pussy back and forth along the length of his cock.
He groaned softly as she continued covering his cock with her juices and then she lifted up, and holding his cock in her hand, she slowly lowered herself upon it.
"Oh, my god," Abe moaned, "That feels incredible!"
"Ohhhhhh, oui, incredible for me too," she whispered, as she continued to lower herself. "I cannot believe it will all go into me."
He reached up to caress her nipples as she took yet another inch inside herself. "Yessss, play with them, your touch is fantastique, mmmmm," she moaned, and then both moved beyond the ability to speak.
She took half of his cock into her pussy before reversing course and lifting up until he was almost out of her. Then she lowered herself again, taking a bit more this time. She repeated this a number of times until, to his surprise and her amazement, she was resting on him, his entire length filling her.
"Oh, Abe," she whispered, "you feel divine inside me."
Abe moaned and said, "Oh, it can't feel as good as your pussy feels on me."
She began to lift again, and then she began moving slowly up and down, his black shaft contrasting against her pale white thighs. Abe tried desperately to let her do the moving, but in a very short amount of time, he was thrusting up with his hips as she pushed down with hers. Despite the fact that they both had cum so powerfully once, the stimulation of his large shaft within her small pussy was strong enough that, before they knew it, they were on the verge of cumming again.
Monique began cumming first, crying out loudly, and her body shook as the waves of her orgasm began to sweep across her. That was all it took for Abe to join her. He thrust up one time, and buried deep within her, his cock began to swell, spasm, and fire, his cum mixing with hers, and his cock filling her so completely that there was no place for their mixed juices to go but to leak out around his cock and saturate his balls and the sheets beneath them.
And then they were still, Monique laying forward on top of him, her lips finding his as she held his cock within her until it softened and slid out on its own. Her hands caressed his body beneath her, until she reached the bandage of his wound, and feeling moisture, she looked down and saw a trickle of blood coming from beneath the cloth.
Immediately, she lifted herself off of him, ran to the pot of now lukewarm water and began to wipe away the blood. Peeling off the bandage, she saw that his wound had only reopened a little bit, and she quickly cleaned it and replaced the cloth with a fresh one. Then, satisfied that the wound was tended to, she climbed over his body and nestled under his arm, her head on his shoulder.
Within a week, the real world intruded on the little farmhouse, as a group of American soldiers reached the farmhouse, fortunately finding Abe and Monique sitting quietly at the dining room table. A corpsman examined Abe's wound and said, "A nice piece of doctoring, Ma'am."
An hour later, she was sitting back on a stool in front of the chicken coop, when she felt two hands on her shoulders, and without looking, she said, "You have to leave, yes?"
Abe wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her neck before saying, "Only until this damn war is over."
She leaned back against him, pulling his arms more tightly around her.
"I knew that this time would not be forever, but somehow, it does not make it any easier to see it end," she said softly as she choked back a sob.
He brushed the tear from her cheek and said, "The war won't last forever, and then I'll be back, Monique."
She stood and turned, slipping her arms around his waist, and said, "Do not make promises that the war may stop you from keeping. Only promise that you will remember me as I will you."
He kissed her softly and said, "Always."
The war did eventually end, but before it did, Abe was wounded again, more seriously than before, and this time, he was sent back to the States to a veteran's hospital in Atlanta. He didn't say much about his time in Europe, but everyone noticed the wistful look in his eyes when he was left with his own thoughts.
After he got out of the hospital, he returned to the plantation, but within 6 months, he said goodbye to his family and left to go north. A buddy of his from basic training had offered him a job in New York, and he worked hard, living simply and saving what money he could. In April of 1950, he found himself staring again at the Atlantic Ocean across the rails of a ship bound for Europe. He only spent two days in London before he boarded a ferry to cross the English Channel. Abe was the first one off the boat.
Two weeks later, he was walking through a grove of trees, scanning the horizon until he saw a farmhouse. He picked up his pace until he reached the outer buildings. He saw a little girl playing with her doll in the yard behind the house, and not wanting to scare her, he called out, "Bon jour!"
The child looked up and said, "Bon jour, Monsieur."
He thumbed through his small French dictionary until the child said, "You are American?"
He looked up, smiled and said, "Yes, I am. How did you know?"
"You do not speak French very good," she said simply.
"Do you live here?" he asked.
"Oui, my mama and I."
From inside the house a familiar voice spoke to the child in French and as the door opened, Abe turned and saw Monique, still dressed in a simple cotton dress. Her eyes opened wide and she ran down the steps and across the yard to throw herself into his arms.
"I did not think I would ever see you again," she said, sobbing quietly into his shoulder.
He held her and whispered, "I made myself a promise that if I lived through the war, I'd find you again, no matter how long it took. And here I am."
They simply held each other for a time until the little girl said, "Mama, who is he?"
Monique looked down at the girl, smiled and said, "Abe, this is Marie. Marie, this is your papa."
Abe's eyes opened wide and then he kissed Monique again. Then he bent to lift Marie into his arms and the three of them held each other. As if they had been meant to. As they would for many many years to come.