You titled my head back just enough, so that my lips brushed against your finger, the wetness of my vagina rubbing onto them. The rough texture of you... finger brushed against my soft lips. You let the tip drag against them, pulling them out slightly, before releasing them back to their natural form. You bent your knuckle and scraped it against my lips, circling it with the coarse texture of your skin there. You pulled your finger away before speaking. Lick your lips. My tongue, responding to. Niether of us had any idea where we were. As we aproached the end of the feild we came across a wooded patch. Between the trees we could make out the silloettes of German storm troopers in a bunker. We walked scilently toward them and waited for them to stop to reload, then we made a quik dash around them. As the night progressed we ran into more and more of good guys. As morning drew we entered a small village were a few other paratroopers were held up. There were four soldiers in a barn. More

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