Allo Allo: Helga Part 1: French Polish
NOTE: This story was inspired by the BBC television sitcom ‘Allo ‘Allo, a parody of wartime dramas. If you’re of a certain age you’ll remember the series fondly…especially Helga.
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story for adult entertainment purposes.
Now, to the story…
It is the middle of the Second World War. France is occupied territory; the French must live under the shadow of the German army, yet the Resistance remain a thorn in their side. The little town of Nouvion is a hotbed of intrigue and espionage. The opposing forces are joined by the Communists, the Gestapo the Royal Air Force and British Intelligence.
One of these plots involves the Commandant of Nouvion, Colonel Von Strohm, of the Wehrmacht. In a conspiracy including his second, Captain Hans Geering and secretary, Private Helga Geerhart, the colonel stole the painting of The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies by Van Clomp. After the war they plan to sell the priceless artwork to fund their retirements.
Unfortunately this plot has become increasingly complicated and convoluted. The details of which we need not go into here. However, one of these complications takes the form of one Herr Otto Flick, of the Gestapo. Flick has been dispatched to retrieve the painting for the Fuhrer. He plots to send a forgery to Berlin and keep the original for himself which he also plans to sell after the war.
Stuck in the middle is the very desirable Helga, a tall blonde example of Fräulein beauty. Working as a double agent she informs Colonel Strohm of Flick’s plans and vice versa. Although unsure of Herr Flick’s intentions for them to marry after the war, she does discover him very exciting. His cold ruthless manner, his domineering will. It is no hardship for her to satisfy him in order to remain close by his side. A girl’s got to have her fun, after all.
Dressed in her tailored green wool Wehrmacht uniform, Helga stepped through the heavy wooden door. Blonde hair up in an intricately braided bunch, she walked down the short flight of stone steps leading to the dungeon of Herr Otto Flick. Seated behind his large ornate desk was the Gestapo officer himself, dressed in darkest black. On his face was a look of shocked anger.
‘How did you get in here, Helga?’ he demanded, his piercing eyes staring at her through his spectacles.
‘I used the key you gave to me,’ she replied, holding up a large metal one.
‘That is not to be used during company hours!’ the seated man said. ‘Only for evenings and weekends.’
‘Yes, Herr Flick. Sorry, Herr Flick,’ the woman replied, looking at the floor, arms by her side, her posture one of submission.
Despite her remorseful expression, Private Geerhart suddenly found herself aroused. The way the cruelly handsome man chastised her got her very excited. Inside her red satin knickers her pussy twitched.
‘I shall forgive you this time,’ he said, standing up and limping around the desk. Cold eyes roamed over her uniformed body, taking note of the curves of the woman, the pristine condition of her clothing. ‘You are late, however.’
A tremble of fear and exhilaration passed through the woman. There will be a punishment. I wonder what it will be, she wondered. Another twitch between her legs and she felt herself getting moist.
‘Take out your handkerchief,’ the dark suited man ordered.
Seductively she complied. One leg forward, green woollen skirt raised, she revealed her stocking-clad thigh, the suspenders holding it up. Tucked into the top of the hosiery was a white silk hanky. Pulling it out she let go of her skirt.
‘Wipe your lips.’
Folding the white cloth Helga pressed it to her mouth. Closing her luscious red lips over the silk she removed an excess of the makeup. A perfect outline of her kiss remained on the kerchief.
‘You may kiss me,’ Herr Flick said.
Without hesitation Helga turned to the man and threw her arms around him. Hungrily she kissed, mashing her lips to his. Head tilting this way and that she snogged the man, pressed her body against his. Flick gave no reaction, did not return the kiss or grab her. Excited by his feigned disinterest, the blonde woman pushed her tongue into his mouth. Finally there was a response. An willing tongue met her intrusion, slid against it, the tip digging and poking.
Drawing the man’s tongue out, rouged lips encircled it, her hot mouth sucking. Now inside Helga’s mouth their tongues entwined, dancing together. Needing a breath she broke contact, pulling back, her arms dropping. A blush coloured her fair cheeks. As she stood there the Private could feel the increasing moistness in her underwear.
Calculating gaze focused on the woman, Flick considered the kiss for a moment. Then he said, ‘Six out of ten. I took four off for the garlic.’
A deep embarrassment added to the colour of Helga’s face. I knew it was a bad idea to have that baguette. ‘I hope I have not displeased you, Herr Flick,’ she said aloud. Inwardly she hoped there would be punishment.
‘You have caught me in a good mood. I am prepared to remain merciful.’
‘Oh. That’s…a relief,’ Helga replied, her tone downhearted.
‘Now that you are here we shall have supper together,’ Flick said before turning to his desk. ‘I shall have it brought in here. You may sit down.’
Complying, Helga couldn’t help but feel a little dejected. She enjoyed the activities she shared with the severe man sitting across from her. A servant brought their meal before scampering hurriedly away.
‘Helga. Stand up and bend over my large desk,’ Flick commanded.
Oh good, she wondered, fighting the smile threatening to spill across of rouged lips. ‘Are you gonna spank me, Herr Flick? Or the paddle, perhaps. I discover those very exciting,’ she said.
‘You discover everything exciting, Helga. No. I merely wish for you to pass me the salt,’ he replied.
Disappointed again she did as instructed, handing over the condiment. Smoothing her skirt she sat back down and began eating. Maybe he will interrogate me after dinner. That’s all the time fun, she wondered, cheering up.
However there was no interrogation. No tantalising tortures, no suspension from the rafters or the smack of a paddle. Most unlike the Gestapo, Helga wondered dismissed after their meal and returning to her quarters.
‘What if he’s losing interest in me?’ she said to herself. ‘We need to be able to monitor his schemes and interject if they prove a threat to us. I must do something!’
The following day was spent considering what options were available, yet nothing seemed appropriate. Still puzzling her situation the Private entered Café René to warn Colonel Strohm that the Gestapo agent was looking for him. Before she could complete her mission the bell on the door jangled and Herr Flick limped in, dressed in his sinister long leather coat and black hat.
‘Colonel Strohm, I have been searching for you. I require information that you are in a position to hand to me. Come, we will return to your office.’ Without awaiting a response, and completely ignoring his erstwhile girlfriend, he pivoted on his walking cane and limped from the establishment.
‘Oh no! This doesn’t bode well at all,’ the town commandant said, standing from his table. ‘Come along Hans. I’m not facing this alone,’ he added to his second-in-command. Leaving the secretary behind, the two German officers reluctantly walked out the door.
Sitting in the café alone, the German woman was lost in her thoughts when the waitress Yvette came to her table.
‘Eez zere anything else you need, Fräulein?’ she asked in her sexy French accent. Leaning down she unconsciously shook her shoulders, her breasts jiggling beneath her frilly white blouse.
And waitress is only part of her job description, Helga wondered, eyes drawn by the movement. It was widely known that the waitresses offered their ‘companionship’ in their rooms above the café. Indeed, both Colonel Strohm and Captain Geering were regulars. And judging by what the men said, the ladies had both talent and imagination in equal measure. They certainly come back happy, Helga wondered. An idea began to form within her quickly plotting mind.
Inspecting the other woman with her gaze she noted Yvette’s outfit. Consisting of a particularly tight black satin skirt, light frilly blouse, matching little white half-apron, stockings and heels, she could appreciate why men would be attracted to her. Not as formal as my own uniform, but still a uniform of sorts.
Underneath the clothing was an obviously appealing body: long legs, tight firm backside, trim waist and a favourable bust. Maybe a little old for her trade, Yvette’s face was still handsome, her lips plump and inviting, her lightly tanned complexion framed by locks of rich brown hair.
‘Actually, yes. There is a…delicate matter I think you could help me with.’
‘Anything I can do to help zee brave soldiers of the German Army,’ Yvette said, sensing an opportunity. And buttering her up won’t harm my chances of profiteering here.
Looking around the room, the secretary saw there were several soldiers and French peasants sitting at the tables about them. Hardly the place to ask for assistance with my current issue.
‘Is there somewhere private we could speak?’
‘Well, zere is the backroom. We could talk in zere,’ Yvette said, curious now.
‘I was thinking about something…more private,’ Helga replied, eyes darting suggestively to the steps leading upstairs.
‘Oui, I am an expert when it comes to privates. Follow me up zee stairs. We can talk girl-to-girl in mah room,’ the French waitress answered. Looking to her compatriot behind the bar, ‘Maria, cover for me.’
Walking up the steps behind the waitress, Helga couldn’t help but look at the sexy bum swaying in her face. Hypnotic in its sensual movements she found her head moving in concert. Through the slit at the back of the satin skirt she could make out the tops of stockings, the seams tracing down the legs.
A curious heat began to warm her knickers as she gained the top of the stairs. Perhaps there may be more than one topic of discussion, she wondered, a brief smile on her face as she followed the French woman into her bedroom.
‘Welcome to my boudoir,’ Yvette said, a hand waving her visitor to the bed in the middle of the room.
Tentatively Helga stepped over to the bed nestled beneath a canopy and sat down. Looking around she noted the room was spartan, the only other furniture being a bedside cabinet, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, all made from old-looking wood. The white walls were bare save for a portrait of her host. Not what I had expected, Helga wondered feeling a little let down. She had expected everything to be red and white lace, lingerie and other instruments of Yvette’s trade on display.
‘So, what eez this private matter I can ‘elp you with?’ the waitress asked, sitting next to her on the bed.
‘As you know I am the girlfriend of Herr Flick of the Gestapo,’ Helga began, ignoring the flinch from Yvette at the mention of her lover’s name. ‘Recently I have noted…a loss of interest.’
‘Ah, and you want me to put a spark back into his motor? Certainly, bring ‘im up here and I can get ‘im going,’ the strumpet said. Dangerous as it may be to deal with the Gestapo, I’m sure I can turn this to my benefit.
‘Certainly not! If anyone is gonna crank Herr Flick’s engine it will be me,’ Helga responded, indignant. ‘What I need is something to…spice things up. I have overheard the Colonel and Captain talking about…’ the blonde woman looked around, ensuring they were alone, ‘…the flying hat and the stick of wet celery.’ Helga had not a clue as to what their use involved but the two officers were very enthusiastic about them.
Yvette leaned away, taken aback. ‘Oh! Well I don’t know about zat. It eez a very advanced technique. I don’t think you are…experienced enough for zat.’
‘Hmm, how about…’ another look around the room, ‘…the whisk?’
‘Oh no, no! That is for experts only. You could hurt somebody if you aren’t practiced enough with eet.’
‘Is there nothing I can do that will keep Herr Flick interested in me?’ Helga asked, pleading eyes looking at the sultry French waitress.
‘Well…there eez one thing I can think of. It may not be to your…taste. But it eez guaranteed to get your paramour’s interest. A French Polish,’ Yvette said, flashing a bright smile.
‘What is that?’ Helga asked, a shine of excitement on her gorgeous face.
‘It is… Well, it’s better if I demonstrate. But oh no! We will need zee assistance of a man,’ Yvette said.
‘Wait here, I shall procure one,’ the German said before bolting from the room. Hurrying down the stairs she looked around at the patrons of the café. Definitely not a peasant. Noticing a tall blonde soldier sitting at a table alone, she crossed the floor to his table.
‘You! You will follow me,’ Helga commanded before turning and going back up the stairs. Mirroring her earlier climb she swung her hips, knowing the soldier behind was staring at her bum, could see the seams of her stockings. A fresh moistness was dampening her gusset as she returned to Yvette’s bedroom.
‘You know of Herr Flick of the Gestapo?’ she asked the uniformed man. In reply his eyes widened and he nodded his head, alarm clearly displayed on his handsome features. ‘Good. If you reveal to anyone what happens in this room…he will have you shot!’ The solder gulped, his fear and excitement mixing.
Turning to the seated Yvette, Helga raised an eyebrow in question. ‘What next?’
‘Well, ‘e will az to drop his trousers,’ the French woman said as she slid to the floor, kneeling before the handsome trooper.
‘Drop your trousers!’ Helga ordered. Instantly the Wehrmacht soldier pushed his uniform down, pooling around his booted feet. ‘And your underpants!’ Once more he obeyed. Feeling a tug on her sleeve, the blonde woman joined her French companion in kneeling before the half naked man.
Yvette wrapped her delicate fingers around the increasingly turgid cock and began stroking it. Looking at Helga, seeing a flush of obvious arousal on her cheeks, Yvette said, ‘First we must get him ‘ard.’
‘It doesn’t appear as if that is gonna be a issue,’ Helga said, eyes roaming over the rapidly stiffening prick. She was well aware that most of the garrison fancied her, that she could have her pick of the lot anytime she wanted. Perhaps I would if it wasn’t for Otto.
Under the experienced touch of the waitress the male soldier was quickly standing at attention, the hard knob pointing at her, a bead of pre-cum oozing from the end.
‘Looks like an unseasoned knockwurst,’ the secretary said looking at the solid prick.
‘But it will taste better zan a sausage. Now, watch zis,’ Yvette said before leaning forward and taking the member into her mouth. Plump lips closing around the thick shaft she began sucking the cock.
Her own mouth gaping open, Helga watched in amazement as the French whore used her mouth to pleasure the man. Head bobbing up and down she moved further along the shaft, taking ever more between her lips. Above the kneeling women the man moaned as Yvette slowly drew back, her cheeks hollowed as she continued to suck. Before the bell end could reappear she dove back down, returning the prick into her warm embrace.
With a loud pop Yvette pulled her mouth off the member and turned to her guest. ‘You want to try eet?’
In polite society such things were not talked about. Only those of a questionable nature would even dare consider doing such a thing. Whores like the French woman next to her were the only ones who would stoop to such depravity.
I want to suck that prick, the German wondered, heart racing with excitement, silk knickers fairly dripping with the cream escaping her wanton snatch. Besides, there is a war on. And needs must…
Replacing the hand on the shaft with her own, Helga closed her fingers around it. Under her clasp she could feel its heat, the smooth flesh and a strong throbbing. No stranger to the contents of a man’s trousers she began stroking back and forth, felt the heft of the baton.
Suddenly aware of the saliva gathering in her mouth she didn’t hesitate any further. Leaning forward and opening her mouth she took in the hot penile helmet. It was a sensation she was not prepared for, was an utterly new experience. Closing her red lips around the veiny shaft she sucked her first cock.
A moan sounded in the small room and it took a moment for Helga to realise she had uttered it. Ever a quick study she began to copy what she’d seen Yvette doing. Holding the member at the base, head pushing forward, more of it disappeared into her mouth.
Mein God! This is amazing, she wondered. The way it feels in my hand and in my mouth. The taste! Oh, it tastes delicious. Maybe not such an unseasoned knockwurst after all. Why have I never tried this before? And the smell. That luscious musky scent of a male.
Yvette watched on, impressed. Surely zis is not ‘er first time? She appears to be a natural, she wondered. Kneeling beside the blonde woman she observed closely, enjoying the show. Ah, maybe not, she wondered at the sound of gagging as the trooper pressed forward eagerly.
‘You don’t want to be going so far… Not yet anyway,’ Yvette smirked. ‘Now, concentrate on just zee knob,’ she said her words tickled by her French accent.
‘How do you mean?’ Helga asked, reluctantly taking the prick from her mouth. ‘Demonstrate.’
Happy to oblige the waitress closed her lips over the helmet, bathing it in warm saliva before sucking gently. Letting it back out she ran her practiced tongue all over, tickling the sensitive underside, probing the cock hole, and tracing behind the raised edge of the crown. Making sure her German guest could see everything she lavished the cock with her considerable talents.
Looming over the kneeling woman, the half-naked man moaned in delight. Unable to prevent himself he pressed forward again. Only this time a resounding smack sounded as Helga slapped his leg.
‘No! You will stand at attention and not interfere,’ she said sternly. ‘Oh my god!’ she exclaimed when her eyes returned to the French Polish happening next to her. To her shocked amazement the waitress had taken the entire schlong into her mouth. ‘But where… Oh, my goodness!’ As she peered closer the blonde secretary had seen the bulge filling the throat of her instructor, saw it rippling as Yvette swallowed.
With a deep gulp of breath Yvette pulled the German sausage from her throat, through her mouth and out of her lips. A generous helping of her throat slime coated the shaft, hung in strings from the knob to her lips.
‘Throating iz an advanced practice. Now take the cock back into your mouth and zuck the end,’ Yvette said.
Hungrily returning the prick between her lips Helga sucked the helmet, savouring the meaty flavour once more. Just like she’d observed, she explored with her tongue. Under the sensitive tip she licked and probed the male member, delighting in the feel of the smooth surface, each and every nook and cranny she could discover around the crown. Lapping at the tip she tasted the salty pre-cum oozing from the slit. Such a flavour!
Again sliding her lips over the shaft, Helga bobbed her head up and down, gently tilting her head side-to-side. Drawing her lips back and forth along the rod, her tongue caressed as she went down further still. Hand working along the shaft she stroked it, loved the feel of the trooper’s prick as she fed it into her mouth.
As Helga continued to suck the unknown soldier on her knees in full Wehrmacht uniform, her pussy was sopping wet. Streams of feminine nectar flooded her womanhood, drooled between her lower lips and smeared against the black silk of her knickers. Eyes closed, she let the heat of sexual delight create between her legs as her mouth filled with more schlong.