Literotic asexstories – A Letter from Aleppo by ColonelB,ColonelB
There is a lot of poetic licence with the use of places and war zones in the World. If you know them to be inaccurate I apologise, but it is not intended to be a work of non-fiction and is just to give a plausible background for the root of the story. As always I am not a professional so be kind, and if you want to leave a comment or a rating that would be fantastic.
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Chapter 1
“Mrs Greenacre for you Doctor.”
“Thank you Angie. Please sit-down Mrs. Greenacre.” Alan smiled at the nurse who had brought him his next patient. Angie wasn`t just his nurse, but also his wife of five years. Angie gave him a wink as the octogenarian stumbled into her seat in front of Doctor Alan Baldwin`s desk.
Alan sighed softly to himself as he read through the old woman’s file. Progressive rheumatoid arthritis that wouldn`t get better before she hurried off this mortal coil to meet her maker. Alan had spent the last five months trying to ease her agony by prescribing stronger and stronger pain medication, but he was having only limited success.
Alan was one of those doctors who absorbed his patients suffering when he couldn`t find a remedy for what ailed them. He let the old woman spill out her pain even though he knew he could do nothing, and his waiting room was probably full of people that he might actually be able to help.
Eventually he helped her to her feet after buzzing Angie to come in. His wife arrived within a minute and supported Mrs. Greenacre as she hobbled from the room. Alan`s heart was breaking for the woman, but he had run out of ideas. He slumped in his chair and drank some cold coffee from the mug on his desk with “Best Dr. Ever” written on it in a childish scrawl. It was a gift from a cancer patient he had helped many years ago. She had been five years old and destined not to see her seventh birthday, but somehow she had gone into remission and had given all the credit to Alan. The cup was a constant reminder that miracles do happen, as the girl had just celebrated her fifteenth birthday only last week. As was her custom, a slice of her birthday cake was left at reception for Alan the day after.
Angie popped her head around his door and asked, “More Coffee Alan?”
“Yes please love!” and he handed her his cup as she came into the room. For not the first time in his life he wondered how he had got so lucky. Alan wasn`t an ugly man by any stretch of the imagination, but he also wouldn`t have been described as handsome. Rugged and Manly maybe, but handsome definitely not. His looks were also not helped by the angry red scar that ran nearly four inches across his cheek. This was a legacy of his time with Doctors without Borders.
Angie on the other hand was a beauty that could have graced any magazine cover of Elle or Vogue. Her long reddish-brown hair, that was now pinned up severely on top of her head, flowed in a cascade of curls well past her shoulders when they were alone in their bed. Green eyes sparkled with mischief ninety percent of the time, or flamed in anger when her Irish roots forced their way to the surface if she was enraged. Her nose was quite big, but this actually increased, rather than diminished her beauty, especially when it flared when she was pissed off. In her white, work T-shirt her medium sized, firm breasts were hidden, but Alan loved to play with them, and tease her rather large rosy nipples when they snuggled at home late at night. Angie`s body curved in all the right places. Her hips were wide but fitted with her nearly six-foot frame. Her legs and buttocks were hard and taut from the five miles she ran every morning before surgery began.
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Angie definitely looked better than the first time he had clapped eyes on her. That time she was sweating, her long hair stuck to her face, her entire body covered in a layer of dust from the shelling, and her T-shirt and the trousers of her scrubs covered in the blood of a ten-year-old girl who had been hit by sniper fire, and who she now held in her arms as she carried her to the newly arrived doctor from England.
Alan had worked on the girl, he never did know her name, for nearly five hours until she passed away with Angie still holding her hand. “Bastards!” she had spat out before returning to the fray as more casualties had arrived.
Angie and Alan had worked together in Aleppo for nearly three months. They had grown close, though never lovers. Alan had wondered sometimes why that was. He usually came to the same conclusion that being covered in brains, blood and vomit was not that conducive to getting you in the mood so to speak. The other factor was that when they could get ten minutes to an hour in bed it wasn`t to be wasted with sex. Sleep was much, much more important.
They had been evacuated from Aleppo when it became too dangerous to work. Huddled in the back of a Toyota land cruiser with their good friend and fellow doctor Hameed they were being driven towards the Turkish border when a RPG exploded next to the vehicle on Alan`s side. A piece of shrapnel had breached the window and sent a hot searing torment across his cheek. Alan would probably have died that day if it wasn`t for Angie and Hameed. Angie nursed him with pain meds as Hameed made a field transfusion using his own blood as they transferred to another vehicle in the convoy and drove another twelve hours to the next hospital.
Angie and Hameed had never left his side as he underwent emergency surgery and then recuperated in a fly ridden ward until it was possible to evacuate him to Frankfurt in Germany. Angie had flown with him, and stayed sleeping in his hospital room until he was discharged. Hameed had returned to Aleppo, his home town, and was still there as far as Alan knew, as there had been no contact since that day.
The night of his discharge Alan and Angie had become lovers in a hotel in Frankfurt, very close to the main station. They never left the hotel room for nearly three days, just ordering room service when they needed fortification for their next bout of energetic sex. Angie was like a wildcat in the bed. Alan was still feeling pain from his wound, and by the time Angie had finished with him his whole body hurt as badly as his cheek. His cock was so sore that Alan thought he may lose the use of it, as it had been bent, sucked and fucked in every way possible and still Angie wanted more.
On the third day they got a message from the HQ of Doctors without Borders. Would one or both of them want to go home, or there was another three-month posting available in South Sudan, but over the border and away from the fighting. They both agreed they would take this one last job and then quit for good.
The next three months were some of the happiest of Alan`s life. He worked in a relatively modern hospital all day with Angie, then spent their evenings making love in as many ways as Angie’s creative mind could conjure up.
When the three months was up they both “Demobbed” and went back to London. Alan had no family. He was an only child and his parents had both died within six months of each other while he was in medical school. He still owned the house that he was brought up in and Angie and he used that as a base.
A very long three weeks was spent visiting Angie`s family in a small village West of Dublin. To Alan it seemed like three years, as they had to sleep in separate bedrooms because Angie`s mum was a good catholic girl. Unlike her daughter!!
To compensate Alan for their lack of intimacy in the house Angie would take him on long walks around the farm her family owned and would give him a blow job or a hand job in some secluded wood or a derelict barn on the premises. They nearly got caught by Angie`s father on one occasion when Angie was sucking his dick feverishly in the hay loft of one of the barns. Her father came in looking for some long-lost tools, wandering around beneath them for twenty minutes. Much to Alan`s complete shock the man`s daughter, rather than stopping what she was doing, pulled her panties down from under her skirt, straddled him, riding him slowly and silently with her father only five metres below.
Only when Angie`s father had walked out of the barn did Angie increase the tempo until they came together minutes later. It was that day with Angie still lying on his chest, his cock still inside her that he had said, “Angie Boland. Will you marry me?”
Angie had hugged and kissed him as she yelled, “Yes Alan. Yes I will fucking marry you, and we will stay married until they day I`ve fucked you to death!” She was laughing so loudly as she ground her pubic bone against his that Alan felt himself begin to stiffen inside her once more.
An hour later they walked back into the cosy farmhouse where Angie had been born. Angie announced to her family that she was to marry. Her Mum was ecstatic as she had taken quite a shine to the polite English doctor. Her father muttered something about, “A bloody Englishman in the family,” before dragging Alan down to the local pub. Angie had to come and pick them up in an old Land Rover after six hours, fourteen pints of Guinness and half a dozen Bushmills chasers.
Alan didn`t surface until nearly midday the next day. By then Angie had already arranged the wedding in the local church for a week on Saturday. Alan called his best friend Jack, who he had known since the first day at infants school, and luckily he could make it as his Best Man.
The wedding was a boozy affair full of love and affection from all attendees. After the party Alan and Angie were allowed to sleep in her bed at last. They consummated their marriage at least five times before they arrived very late to breakfast the next day.
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