Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 KING JAKOB (Part 3)

   By KATZMAREK(C)

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   This work is fiction.  It remains the property of the author and may not
be used for profit without the author's express permission in writing.  It
contains sex, so if this offends etc...

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   Part 3

   Pastor Goerdeler had a reputation as a pompous and sonorious bore.  At
Katalin and Jakob's wedding he was at his droning worst.  Jakob was really
Jewish, a fact he couldn't reveal.  The good, rich, cunning and altogether
ficticious Count Feodor Politovsky was nominally Russian Orthodox.  The
Westermann's were even more nominally Lutheran.  The only other Churchmen
in the islands were the Roman Catholic priest and the London Missionary
Society's Father Bigham, an even more tedious character.  Clearly Goerdeler
was the best choice.

   The service was in German.  Goerdeler, however, chose to call down a
blessing in Russian in deference to the Count.  Perhaps he had his mind on
the donation to his church Jakob had promised.  The Pastor, though, badly
mangled the Russian.  Jakob didn't know what was more amusing, the solemn
expressions of the guests or the phrase, 'Oh Father, I beseech you to rain
on this couple with all the joy of the occasion.' Jakob looked skywards at
the gathering clouds on the horizon, a gesture lost on the congregation.

   Katalin looked stunning in white.  Her wedding dress washed over the
green grass before the gazebo that performed as an altar.  She held a
frilly white umbrella over her head.  Jakob, however, had nothing but a top
hat to protect him from the sun.

   Katalin's blushing, smile had been fueled by a few stiff Brandies. 
Jakob's serene expression owed as much to Vodka as the loftiness of the
occasion.  Governor Westermann was firmly propped to the vertical by Frau
Westermann, herself excessively ruddy.  Westermann longed to chomp on a
Havana and found the enforced wait tedious.

   When the formal part of the service was over, Westermann clapped his
hands together in satisfaction, perhaps a little too loudly.  The couple
shared a chaste kiss, passion was to be left to the honeymoon.  The steam
yacht 'Samoa' was anchored at Apia.  Their honeymoon was to be a cruise of
the Pacific Islands.

   Katalin had wanted a holiday in Europe, however Jakob thought it
presented too big a risk for him.  His bogus papers may be questioned at
any of the borders.  Particularly at this time of international tensions
and intrigues.

   Co-incidently, the Austro-Hungarian training cruiser 'Kaiserin
Elisapeth' was visiting as part of it's world cruise.  A number of the
Officers found their way to the wedding together with a small honour guard
of cadets.  Jakob was grateful they didn't fire over their heads in salute.
Apparently that's reserved only for dead military men and Heads of State.

   A lavish reception was held afterwards, which moved inside the mansion
as dusk fell.  At the top table, Westermann leaned heavily on his wife and
lit cigar after cigar until a blue pall hung over the bridal party.  Later
in the evening the couple moved outside to recieve the congratulations of
the staff.  Jakob's house servants had also assembled, including Qing Li
and Asmira.  Laila was tactfully absent.  His mistresses beamed with
delight, shook their master's hand and curtsied.  Their attitude towards
Katalin was more reserved, however.  Katalin's expression was ambiguous, to
say the least.

   Once their formal duties were over, the couple danced until the
perspiration, and alcohol, dripped down like beads from their foreheads. 
By the time they moved upstairs to change they were sober, although high on
adrenalin.

   Downstairs a carriage waited for them bedecked with ribbons and flowers.
At midnight they were taken to a jetty and embarked in a dinghy for the
'Samoa.' Wellwishers lined the shore cheering and clapping.  Westermann and
his wife had long since gone to bed, however.  The Governor had been
carried out of the reception by two of the strongest guests.  People
remarked they hadn't seen him in such a state before.

   The bridal couple climbed the ladder to the deck of the big yacht.  Most
of the crew were still ashore.  There was only a stewart to ensure the
couple had what they needed and two boiler attendants who were keeping some
steam up for the generator.  These men expected to be relieved of their
duty once Katalin and Jakob had settled in.  They didn't expect to have
need of the yacht's electric lighting for long.  Katalin retreated down
below into the master cabin, while Jakob paid a call on the boiler crew.

   Compared to the German Collier, the boiler room was tiny.  One Schultz
cylindrical boiler sufficed to provide steam for the single compound
engine. In a compartment behind the engine a steam generator hissed.  A
small steam engine drove the unit by belt drive.  A bearded middle-aged man
was adjusting the master valve.  A Samoan stoker leaned on his shovel, his
face black with coal dust.  He grinned broadly, his white teeth shone from
his face like a distant city at night.  Jakob poured them each a shot of
Vodka.  They held them up in a toast, bolted the contents down, and
followed Jakob's example by smashing the glasses against the boiler plate.

   "Are you going to draw the fire?" he asked the bearded man.

   "We'll bank it, Excellency.  That way it should sustain enough pressure
to run the generator for a couple of hours, should you have need of it."
The man grinned broadly.

   "What's your minimum pressure?"

   "15 pounds, Excellency.  Is there a problem?"

   "Not at all," Jakob reassured the man, "I have an interest in steam,
that's all."

   "Ah!" the attendant replied, "well, good luck sir!"

   "Thanks," replied Jakob and went back topside.

   --------------------------------------------------------------

   Two days before the wedding Jakob recieved a special present, a very
special present.

   He had worked late that night.  The company was expanding rapidly and
Jakob wasn't one to leave the running of it to others.  Exhausted, he
climbed the stairs to see the lamps had already been lit in the bedroom.  A
weak glow escaped under the door.  Opening the heavy teak double doors, he
recoiled at the sight that greeted him.

   Stretched out on his bed were two oil-shining and very naked female
bodies, one brown, the other paler.  They lay with arms around each other,
their legs spread and displaying two black-thatched gleaming pussies. 
Asmira grinned her row of perfect teeth.  Sally, or Qing Li had a much more
demure, rather shy and uncertain expression.

   "You're late, master," smiled Asmira.

   Still recovering from the surprise, Jakob could only mumble that he had
a lot of work to do.

   "You work too hard, Master Count Feodor," Asmira remarked.  Jakob nodded
in agreement.  "Qing has a special request," Asmira continued, "I hope you
don't mind."

   "Oh?" asked Jakob, now examining the two women.

   Asmira's tummy had flattened out since Laila's birth.  Some looseness
still remained, though, but Jakob thought it added a little character to
her body.  Her breasts remained large and sagged a little to left and
right. They jutted up around the nipples, now well-chewed by her daughter.
Jakob's eyes fell on her pussy, and her now very prominent labia.  They
shone through the patch of black hair and glinted with oil and lubrication.
Asmira's hand lay on her tummy, just above the pubic bone.  From the oil
still visible on her fingers it was obvious she had just been massaging the
Jasmin oil onto her body.

   Qing Li had filled out a little more since last time she'd shared his
bed, it seemed.  Her hips were rounder, the bumps on her chest just a
little more womanly.  Her long hair was loose, unusually, and cascaded over
her body and the bedcover.  It gave softness to her features, perhaps more
sensuousness.  She certainly no-longer looked the little girl.  Like
Asmira's, her legs were spread wide, her pussy gleaming with Jasmine oil.
Jakob thought her thighs were more shapely now and definitely couldn't be
mistaken for a boy's.  Also like Asmira's, her hand was on her tummy and
similarly oiled.  It took little imagination for Jakob to conclude what the
two women had been up to.

   "She want's you to make her a woman," Asmira told the startled
false-Count.  "She says when you are married you won't have any time for
her...  or me, master."

   "I see!" Jakob replied.  His heart was thumping in his chest, the blood
rushing in his ears.  He felt movement in his trousers as his cock
gradually began to unfold at the news.

   "She wants me to be here," Asmira went on, "she's nervous, but she says
I make her feel better."

   'A double meaning?' Jakob wondered to himself, "it appears you have been
making each other feel better?" he remarked aloud.

   "No, no!" Asmira replied, wide-eyed, "I have been helping her get ready.
It's a very special moment for her and..."

   "How?" Jakob asked, dry mouthed with lust.

   Asmira grinned sheepishly.  She told him it was a 'woman's secret' but
he insisted she divulged what they'd been up to.

   "I showed her how to massage the oil into her skin," Asmira explained,
"and..."

   "And?"

   "Certain things...  ah...  to make her...  ah...  ready for..."

   "What?" Jakob pressed.

   "You, master," she replied, "for your...  your..." Asmira couldn't
continue for the two women broke out in giggling fits.

   "This?" Jakob suggested, pulling open the flap of his trousers.  The
women nodded, giggling louder.  "Please continue," Jakob told them,
removing his clothes.  After some cajoling, eventually his mistresses
gained control of themselves.

   "Look, Qing Li," Asmira said in a soft voice, "look how pleased he has
become." The girl nodded.  "Aren't you happy you have such a kind master?"
Again, the girl nodded.  Asmira put her hand between her legs.  "Like this,
again," she whispered, "slow, like the snake." Qing Li aped Asmira's
actions.  She turned her head towards the older woman and nestled against
her right breast.

   Jakob took off his clothes, his eyes fixed on the two women.  Legs
spread, they slowly rubbed their pussies.  Asmira occasionally put her hand
between Qing Li's legs to guide the Chinese girl.

   "Good, good," she murmured, "now I think the master Count would like you
to please him...  with your mouth.  Like you usually do."

   Qing Li turned her head reluctantly from the comfort of Asmira's breasts
and waited for Jakob.  He walked to the side of the bed holding his
stiffening cock.  Breathless with anticipation, he directed it towards Qing
Li's small mouth.  Asmira looked on like a teacher observing a favourite
pupil's Science experiment.  Her legs were twitching, her tummy rippling as
she continued to excite herself with her fingers.  She covered Qing Li's
hand with her own, prompting it to work faster.  She drove the Chinese girl
to match her own rhythm.

   Qing Li's trembling mouth closed over the head of Jakob's cock.  He held
his breath as her tongue caressed the underside.  He lightly stroked her
cheek as she sucked on him noisily.

   The Chinese girl withdrew her fingers from between her legs and they
were promptly replaced by Asmira's.  She gave a little start at the new
sensation, then continued sucking.  A little high-pitched moan caught in
her throat adding to the erotic sounds of sighs, heavy breathing and Qing
Li's gurgling.

   "You are ready," whispered Asmira, turning the girl onto her back.  She
turned on her side and put her arms around the Indian.  Jakob lay down
behind her, stroking her cute little bottom, his stiff cock nestled in her
cleft.  "Perhaps," Asmira suggested, "if you put your leg up...  like this,
and over master...  so..." She guided the girl's legs so they were in a
scissor fashion over Jakob's.  She then pulled Jakob's cock and arranged
Qing Li until he was aimed squarely at the target.  With Asmira's guidance
he butted the head at her vaginal entrance and it's thin protective
membrane.

   In that position it was difficult for Jakob to penetrate her with any
force.  Instead Asmira worked him around the girls' vagina, pushing and
probing.  When he felt himself softening, Asmira gave him a little rub with
her experienced fingers.

   "Now push," she said at last.  Together they assaulted the girl's pussy,
Asmira pushing with her fingers and Jakob helping all he could.  At last
Jakob felt himself slowly being squeezed like into the neck of a bottle, a
very warm bottle.  The girl gasped, bit her lip, and held onto Asmira
fiercely.  The older woman crooned softly, cradled her head and made
encouraging noises.  Struggling, Jakob managed to push himself a third of
the way into the girl.  All the while Asmira manuevred her arse, stroked
the girl's clitoris and added oil to the moving parts.  All the while the
girl moaned softly into Asmira's breasts.  "You're now a woman," she
announced triumphantly to Qing Li, her face shining with the effort.

   They paused for a while with Jakob's cock now more than halfway inside
the girl.  Asmira asked her how she was feeling.

   "Full," she replied, "is okay."

   "Small kitty," Asmira told her, "and master Count big.  It get much
better, very, very much better.  You stretch, you'll see!" The girl nodded
with a hint of a smile.  "You ready for more now?" she asked.  The girl
nodded.

   Asmira got the girl to maneuvre onto her hands and knees while Jakob
remained inside her.  Spreading her knees wide, Qing Li prepared herself
for the final part.  Taking her by the hips, Jakob pushed himself a little
more forcefully up into the girl, all the while working slowly in and out
to allow her to accomodate him.  Her face was screwed up in concentration,
she grunted with the effort while Asmira encouraged and stroked. 
Eventually there was enough natural lubrication for Jakob to begin a slow
fucking movement.  The girl puffed noisily through clenched teeth, but
no-longer appeared to be in too much discomfort.  Asmira guided her arse in
a circular movement and continued to rub her clitoris in time to Jakob's
rhythm.

   The friction, the eroticism of the two women, was almost more than Jakob
could bear.  He couldn't remember being so aroused, so hard before.  The
rhythm reminded him of the sea, the rolling Atlantic swell when God blessed
it with a calm day.  Strangely, a picture of the Borodino flashed into his
mind, it's two tall funnels belching out the sulferous brown/black smoke
from burning Lignite coal.  He felt himself rolling like the top-heavy,
overladen, Russian battleship.  The crewmen walked a zig-zag pattern along
the heaving deck.  In rough weather movement practically stopped as men
were thrown dangerously against the rails and deck houses.

   Jakob's thoughts delayed his impending crisis.  He opened his eyes to
find the girls arse stabbing back at him urgently.  She was yelping and
snorting, moaning in her little high-pitched, sing-song voice.  Asmira had
left her to it.  Instead she was furiously fingering herself for her own
pleasure, her chest heaving and breath rasping in her throat.  Jakob
rapidly boiled-up back to his own crisis, ready to explode.  Mindless now
of the girl's comfort, he beat at her arse mercilessly until he was pumping
his red-hot emission deep into the Qing Li's pussy.

   Asmira was groaning and crying-out on the bed beside them.  Her knees
were stuck up in the air and spread wide, her pussy glistening with oil and
excitement.  Her legs trembled, her arse humped her fingers as she coaxed
the last of her orgasm out of herself.  In front, Qing Li had fallen on her
front with exhaustion, her face buried in the sheet.  He noticed some
watery bloodstains on the bedcover and the inside of the girl's thighs. 
Asmira reluctantly made room for him as he lay down between them.  Before
heading for the bathroom, he stole a kiss from each of 'his' two girls.

   Presently Asmira and Qing Li joined him in the bathroom and they washed
each other down with flannels and cold water.  Asmira, in all her
voluptuous nakedness, then remade the bed with fresh sheets.  Later they
all got back into bed, Qing Li next to Asmira, Jakob next to Asmira.  That
way they got some well-earned rest with the Chinese girl firmly entwined in
Asmira's arms and Jakob closely spooned next to his number one mistress.

   -----------------------------------------------------------------

   'Could life get any better?' Jakob thought to himself from the side rail
of the 'Samoa.' 'Or is life just a downhill run from here?  If not, how can
things get any better than this?' He watched a single light on the Western
foreland of Apia's natural harbour winking in the heavy night air.  He
listened to the distant booming of the Pacific surf on the rocky beach
behind him.  He walked slowly towards the elegant cutter bow of the yacht
with it's short sprit and carved figurehead of a Samoan maiden.  Coloured
bunting fluttered up the running lines to the single masthead light.  From
the raked funnel a thin wisp of smoke was being carried away in the sea
breeze.  Below the mast, from the main cabin, the port holes emitted a
faint glow.  Jakob thoughts drifted back to his blonde young bride waiting
expectantly for his arrival for their wedding night.

   'How will the future be?  Will Katalin pressure him to give up his
mistresses?' Jakob thought about love.  Katalin had told him she loved him,
but what did either of them know about love?  Brutalised by the harshness
of being a Jew in anti-Semetic Russia, by life on the tough streets of St
Petersburg and a family crushed by poverty and the system.  Then the Navy,
the petty-minded bullying of NCO's and the gunner's mess of the Borodino.
What Jakob understood was survival, that money bought you status, respect
and girls.  Money bought you a title, even a fake one, and the attention of
of those born into privilege.  Yes, the system was rotten.  It rewarded the
least deserving and condemned the talented to a life of misery.  One either
made the most of it or wailed like the Socialists and Anarchists at the
unfairness of it all.

   Mesmerised by his fake title, Katalin saw him not as a man, but a
sponsor.  Would she have looked sideways at Gunner's Mate Jakob Herzberg,
low born and a Jew to boot?  He was her elevation from the caste of middle
class civil servants that so infested the European empires.  They clawed
and scratched their way up the ministerial ladder until old age, or the
jealousies of those above them, brought their rise to a halt.  What will
happen when she discovered his falsehood?  How much will her 'love' for him
matter then?  At least Asmira and Qing Li were properly bought and paid
for, a good and honest transaction.  Sighing, he made his made his way to
the companionway that led down to the main cabin.

   Jakob tapped softly on the heavy mahogany door and open it.  The room
was lit with two oil lamps, one on the dresser and one beside the bed.  The
large bed featured a tester and was covered in a hand-stitched quilt of
greens and golds.  Katalin sat on the left by the lamp, a glass of
champagne in her hand.  Her face betrayed apprehension, a slight smile
broke her expression when she saw him.

   "You were so long!" she told him, "I thought...  never mind." Jakob
mumbled an apology and began to pull at his shirt buttons.  "I thought I'd
sleep on this side," she continued, "I normally lie on my side this way,"
she indicated, "so this way, I can face you and...  is that alright?" She
looked suddenly strickened.

   "That's fine," Jakob reassured her, "whatever side you wish."

   "Good!" she looked pleased as a child.  She wore a thin, diaphanous, and
probably French, nightie that brushed the top of the modest swell of her
breasts.  The fabric clung to her fruits before disappearing under the
covers.  Jakob saw the little bumps of her nipples crowning her cute
breasts.  With her blonde locks, pretty face and sweet body Jakob thought
she was a fine companion for a Count.  At her throat was a silver pendant
in the shape of a heart.  It had the look of Victorian about it, being
heavily etched with a stylised crysanthemum.  Seeing Jakob examining it,
Katalin explained, "it was supposed to be for my 16th birthday but Mama
gave it to me early as a special wedding gift.  Do you like it?"

   "16th?" Jakob asked in surprise.  "surely you mean your 17th?"

   "No, 16th," she replied breezily, "surely I'd know my own birthday," she
added, attempting humour.

   "You're 15?" Jakob said.  The girl nodded, puzzled.

   "Didn't you know?  Is something wrong?" she asked anxiously.

   "No," Jakob replied, taking off his trousers, "nothing's wrong.  Doesn't
your Father remember his daughter's age?" Katalin looked nonplussed at the
question.

   Jakob sat on the bed and got in beside her.  He wondered why her Father
had been so anxious to marry his daughter off at such a young age.  "Has
your Father money troubles?" he asked suddenly.  His wife furrowed her
eyebrows.

   "Such a question!" she told him, "I don't know...  really.  Why do you
ask?"

   "Just wondering!" he replied, putting his arm around her shoulders.  She
leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder.  Jakob's eyes travelled
down her chest into her cleavage and her white flesh.  It made her seem
more vulnerable, more pure and unsullied.  He felt the warmth of her thigh
next to his.  Her thighs between which, the promise of the forbidden garden
hitherto denied him.

   He'd had a taste of course, a little preliminary investigation.  Always
silk-covered and tucked demurely under a dress.  Now her soft folds were
his to explore at his leisure.  'Bought and paid for,' he thought, 'perhaps
all that was missing was the final price!'

   Jakob felt a twinge of anger.  No stranger to deceit himself, he sensed
Westermann had tricked him into marriage, had offered him 'respectability'
in exchange for money.  His marriage contract had ensured his wife had a
tidy income for herself.  Perhaps at heart this transaction was no
different than the arrangement he'd had with Asmira and the little Chinese
girl.  'Damn,' he thought, 'at least I'll have my side of the bargain.'

   With that thought he brought Katalin's mouth up to his and stopped her
mid-sentence, he hadn't heard her talking to him.  He ground his mouth
firmly against hers, putting his hand on her breast and exploring the
shape. She parted from his lips, breathless and startled.  Her mouth worked
but nothing came out.  Jakob pulled the strap down of her nightie, yanked
the fabric clear of her white breast.  It bobbed in the pale glow of the
lamps, her pink nipple puckered and jutting out.  He seized it with his
lips, bit and sucked, and squeezed the flesh with his hands.  Katalin
gasped, her mouth formed an 'O', her face looked shocked and maybe a little
frightened.

   "F'Feodor...  oh!  Gentle...  uh..."

   In response, Jakob yanked her other teat free and sucked to it like a
hungry baby.  Katalin trembled, held his head in her hands and tried to
push him away.  "No, I...  d'don't...  uh..." she gasped.

   He pushed his hand between her legs, felt smooth silk panties stretched
over the heat of her mound.  They were bound by a ribbon.  Intrigued he
pulled the bedsheet down to see.

   Her nightie parted just below her bust to reveal her shapely thighs and
blue silk panties.  The ribbon was red, tied in a neat bow like a Christmas
present.  Katalin squirmed, Jakob had her pinned by an arm across her
chest. She had planned to offer herself up on her wedding night like some
sort of prize.  Jakob smiled at the irony of it all, the childlike
innocence.  In this most naked of commercial arrangements, Katalin, the
innocent, the dreamer, clung to her first-night fantasy like a schoolgirl's
crush.  He looked into her face.  It questioned him, was puzzled at his
actions.  Where were the loving embraces, the long lingering kisses and
gentle caresses leading to her eventual deflowering?  Jakob eyes fell to
her breasts, exposed and gleaming with saliva.  The flesh was reddened
where he'd roughly squeezed them.  Jakob bent down and kissed her silk
mound, a gentle brush with the tip of his tongue.  He looked back at her
and smiled.

   "You're beautiful," he told her.  Katalin beamed with relief and
pleasure.

   "I thought you were...  disappointed," she told him in a little voice,
"that you were cross with me or..."

   "I'm not cross with you," Jakob told her, "it's just..." he sighed
deeply.  He thought for a minute of telling her the truth, that he was no
aristocrat, just a deserter of the Tsar.  She, with dreams of balls and
courts and glittering receptions full of Kings, Queens, Emperors and
Empresses.

   "Just?" she asked, nervously.

   "Just...  tired, I guess," he told her, "such a big day!"

   "Yes, it was," she replied, "I never seen Papa so...  overcome with
happiness," she giggled, "do you suppose he had too much to drink?"

   "Possibly," Jakob grinned, "are you going to undo your ribbon?"

   "I thought you might like to," she laughed.

   "Please," he told her, "you untie it."

   Smiling sheepishly, her fingers pulled the red ribon undone.  Lifting
her bottom she pushed her panties down her thighs.  The strong scent of
lavender assailed his nose.  A douche perhaps?  Or perfume?  For the first
time he laid eyes on his wife's pussy.  It was covered in a fluffy
reddish-brown down that did little to conceal the lips of her labia.  Jakob
gently eased her thighs apart and ran his fingers over it.  Her body jerked
as she giggled.  She complained he was tickling.

   He moved up to lie with her, smoothing the rest of her nightie off her
body.  Jakob then guided her lips to his and kissed her, the long,
lingering and gentle kiss she'd been expecting.  He caressed her body to
his until her leg bent over his stiffening cock.  As they kissed, her thigh
caressed his tummy.  He stroked it, delighted in it's smooth feel.  He
cupped a cheek of her cute little bottom allowing his fingertips to brush
her moistening sex.  He was rewarded when she pressed herself even more
firmly against him.

   His probing finger found no obstruction at the entrance to her vagina.
He managed to work it in up to the first knuckle.  She nudged his cock
again with her leg.  He brought her hand down onto it and she slowly began
to stroke him.  Jakob tasted her nipples again, more gently this time.  She
shivered and this time did not try to push him away.  He flicked one with
his nose, it made her giggle.

   She explored his chest with her hands.  Asking him if his little nipples
were sensitive.  She brushed her tongue over them.  Katalin complained they
tasted salty, dipped her finger in the champagne and smeared it over them.
Satisfied, she went back to licking, telling him they tasted so much
better.

   Jakob sought the little bud of her clitoris and played with it with a
fingertip.  A soft moan escaped her, she gripped him harder and pushed
herself at his hand.  He rolled onto his back taking Katalin with him until
she lay along the length of his body.  His fingers busy, he inched her back
onto the head of his penis.  She butted up to him, looked a little
apprehensive, then maneuvred until he was snuggled against her entrance.

   "Sit on it, down, so!" he instructed, "when you're ready.  On your
knees...  then slowly...  so!"

   "I haven't..." she whispered breathlessly, quickly.  Jakob learnt that
Katalin's voice raced to a babble when she was nervous or tense.  "I
haven't, y'know, have what virgins have because...  Don't think I've
betrayed you or..."

   "Doesn't matter...  don't care.  Down!" he told her desperately. 
Carefully she inched down onto his cock.  She gave a brief expression of
triumph as the head gradually inched its way up inside.  Jakob thought the
process was much easier than with Qing Li.  "Feels funny," Katalin
remarked.

   When she'd pushed him right up inside, she sat still, concentrating. 
She told him it didn't feel so bad and that she didn't understand what all
the talk was about.

   "Move around," Jakob told her, "try me out for size." She laughed at
that and squirmed her arse around.

   Jakob studied the body of his new wife as she loomed over him.  In the
glow of the lamps her white skin took in a warmer hue.  Her skin had the
faint sheen of persperation, little beads collected around her flowering
nipples.  He watched the movement of her flat tummy as she squirmed and
bobbed on top of him.  The yellow of the lamp caught the reddish tint of
her pubic hair, now darker and matting with moisture.

   He pushed his hand down between them so his knuckles ground against her
clitoris.

   "Ooo," she cooed, "ooh...  uh, nice!"

   She ground faster.  Jakob rolled his fist in time with her.  Katalin
sucked in her breath, bit her lip, gasped again.

   "Like that!" she sighed, "yes...  good, uh....  oh...  harder..." She
leaned forward, slammed down harder, she groaned and hissed.  Jakob pushed
himself up to meet her on each downward thrust.  She fell on top of him and
rubbed herself faster and faster, crying out her orgasm loudly into his
ear. Desperately, Jakob rolled her on her back and pounded himself to his
own explosion.  Katalin, her face screwed up, her eyes shut was driven
backwards into the pillows.  Her breath was rasping from her open mouth. 
At last, growling, Jakob blasted his seed deep into his wife's vagina as
she wimpered below him.

   Later, Katalin's voice was much more languid.  Sleepily, she murmured
her love for him once more as the excitement of the day, and night, finally
caught up with her.  Soon, her voice quieted.  Jakob looked across to
discover she was sleeping peacefully.

   He rose up and went up onto the empty deck to smoke one of Westermann's
cigars.  The breeze was fresher and wafted in the cool of the night.  He
shivered a little in his loose shirt, looked out once more to the Pacific
ocean.  Far out a light winked from a ship waiting for the morning. 
Negotiating the bar at night can be hazardous to the unwary.  Not for the
first time, he wondered where it was from and its next port of call.  He
wondered if they were a stoker short and grinned at the irony of it.

   What would tease him off this island paradise?  In Europe the empires
ground and squabbled against each other's ambitions.  Britain was becoming
nervous of Germany's growing industrial power, her burgeoning navy and
mighty armies.  France had made close allies with the Russians, her
not-so-secret desire to recover Alsace and Lorraine from Germany. 
Austria-Hungary struggled with the ethnic question as the empire decayed,
and played games with Russia over the Balkans.  Turkey struggled to retain
her foothold in Europe.  Rent with internal strife, the other empires vied
to pick up her pieces.  The world waited with baited breath for the
inevitable explosion.

   Out here, though, in the far-flung corner of the German empire, Europe
seemed a world away.
   KATZMAREK (C)