This is subject to all the usual provisos:
Graphic sex follows.
I'm not responsible for you reading this if you are underage.
The contents are purely fiction and all characters are figments of my
imagination.
This story is copyrighted and any reproduction requires the explicit consent of
the author; i.e. me.
AIDS/HIV and other STD do not exist in my fiction but do in reality-if you
attempt to live the lifestyle depicted please take precautions.
"If you lack the maturity to grasp this disclaimer, then
under no circumstances read this story without guidance of someone more mature
(to quote Deirdre)."
© 2008: This work may not be reproduced in any format or
medium without the permission of the author.
CHAPTER 23
Three days in
There were quite a few changes when I got
to
Frank had moved out of the apartment we
shared to move in with Elsa. Apparently they were getting all hot and heavy.
The club owned the place we lived, and basically they could stick anyone in to
live with me. That made think about a real place of my own too. Frankly I was
rolling in money. Both my parents had raised me to be levelheaded, and both
insisted I put aside money for a rainy day, college, career-ending injury or
whatever other contingency. I was putting away nearly half of my earnings into
investments, but still had more than I knew what to do with. I didn’t really
have any major expenses: the club provided housing and most food, and my life
was pretty much all football. But now I had a three-year contract with a raise.
I figured it was time for me to make an investment.
I found a neat one-bedroom apartment in the
downtown area and furnished it cheaply and simply; I wasn’t going to spend a
lot of time there and wasn’t planning to move all my stuff stateside whenever I
did leave. It was a nice little place within walking, or stumbling, distance
from the pubs Frank had taken me to. During the day the streets were busy with
commerce and shoppers, but at night the thoroughfare I lived over was deserted
and quiet.
Since I was living farther from the club I
needed transportation. I wanted to get a motorcycle but got talked out of it by
Robbie, the assistant coach, who instead helped me purchase a three-year old VW
that was in good shape. I could have gone out and paid cash for a new upscale
Beemer, but I really don’t have extravagant tastes when it comes to material
things, and I really only needed a car to get me the four or five miles from
the apartment to the stadium.
There were five weeks before the season
began so training focused on physical preparation. Given my time with the
Olympic team I had great conditioning. Some of the squad were in much worse
shape and I was spared some of the more grueling exercises. The club had
brought half a dozen new players so competition was fairly fierce to get on the
first team. At the same time my stock was rising and it looked as though I was
firmly embedded in the squad and would get a fair share of games. It made me
wonder about the incentives the club put in the contract and Gerda’s …
Frank was busy creating domestic bliss with
Elsa, and I felt awkward looking for Gerda and the other girls on my own. Plus
it was pre-season and the coaches would frown on anyone getting too much
entertainment. So I kept a low profile and didn’t go out. As would luck would
have I didn’t have to.
I’d been back a couple of weeks when given
the afternoon off since my fitness level was above par and wandering around the
downtown.
“Hey!” someone yelled. It was Gerda,
leaning out of her car. I suddenly realized that I’d brought the same model VW
as she drove. She’d pulled out of traffic and was idling by the curb. I walked
over.
“Hi.” Gerda looked happy to see me.
“So… you are back from
“Yes. And the
“This I know.” Gerda glanced to the passenger
seat where there was a stack of papers and on the floor in front of it the club
fan magazine with my name on the cover and ‘Olympische Mannschaft’ in bold
letters. “You played for the national team?”
I nodded. Gerda was wearing a cream
business suit and white silk shirt. The skirt didn’t reach her round knees and
there was an inviting dark crevice between her legs. Standing over her I also
looked down over her generous cleavage.
“So… this is good… perhaps it should be
rewarded” She smiled, almost wickedly, and looked from my face to my crotch.
“You are in the same home?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve moved. I have
rented an apartment. On Nördlich Straße.” I gestured up the block to the
street.
“You have telephone?”
I gave her the number, which she wrote down
on a scrap of paper. Gerda gunned the engine.
“I am late for appointment. I will
telephone you soon.”
“OK.” She put the car in gear and pulled
into the traffic.
* * *
It was a couple of days, a Thursday, before
she called. It gave me time to re-think the whole situation with Gerda and her
bevy of groupies. I’d fucked Ailse, and gotten blowjobs from Ulka and Nixie.
While they were all enjoyable experience I didn’t have much in common or good
communication with Ailse. Ulka was stunningly attractive but I don’t know if
there was a lack of chemistry or that she’d hung out with Frank, but didn’t
want to go there. Nixie was cute and her tongue stud was sure to be healed by
now. I fantasized about her giving me head and the steel ball rasping over
cock…
There were other possibilities. Gerda
herself. I just knew that she’d be a strong fuck. She intimidated it with her
authority and the disdain she’d Jaro, the Czech teammate she’d taken home, for
his lack of performance was scary but challenging. She was alluring, and I
wanted to take her on and felt I could after those nights with Joyce in the
When she did call Gerda asked me what I was doing that weekend. As it happened, nothing. The club was giving us a couple of days off, then half-day training Monday and a pre-season game the day after. She invited to go to the country: she’d pick me up Friday evening and we would return the same time Sunday.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. The last time
I’d arranged something with Gerda I had ended up with her cousin for hours and
then in bed with Ailse. Things didn’t seem to go to plan with Gerda.
She picked me up outside of my apartment at
six and was alone. She was wearing tight jeans and a loose sweatshirt. It was
the first time I had seen dress casually. The car had been cleaned up and I
tossed my gym bag into the backseat next to Gerda’s small duffle. Gerda alternated
between intense conversations interspersed with long silent pauses. We drove
south for an hour and then stopped for some food. I still had no idea where we
were going. After dinner we went on for another hour. The landscaped became
more hilly and on the horizon mountain peaks where ghostlike in the summer
haze.
We exited off the highway and drove a few
miles along twisty narrow roads and through postcard villages filled with
geraniums. Gerda took a left onto a dirt path, bounded on each side by thin tall
trees, that went on for a half-mile and ended at wrought-iron gate. Twilight
had already set in by the time we arrived. Gerda asked to me open the gates,
which I did and then closed them once she had driven through. The ironwork was
covered in thick thatch mats that I thought was strange.
I got back in the car and just beyond a
copse we came to the house. It was painted white though the wooden beams were
stained dark. It was a huge A-frame, three stories high, with a façade pitted
with small balconies. Very ski lodge. The lights were on and shone through the
windows while landscape lighting lit the exterior. There were three or four
cars parked in the gravel around the front door.
Gerda parked away from the other cars. We
got out of the car but instead of going to the entrance way Gerda guided me to
the side of the house and down a stone stairway. There were no exterior lights
and we tripped over the rough ground. Gerda opened the basement door into a
pitch-black hallway. “Come,” she whispered and grabbed my hand.
I followed her down the hallway, fearful of
tripping over something, and we passed a couple of closed doorways. She opened
the third door and flicked the light switch. It was a bare little room. A metal
cot with blankets sat in one corner. A table, a chair and a dresser completed
the furniture inventory. There was a high window just above ground level. It
reminded me of Joyce’s room in the bowels of the hotel, except it was cold and
damp. Gerda closed the door.
“Tonight you will stay here. It is best. My
family has a festival but will be gone tomorrow.”
She exited the room. What had I got myself
into, I asked myself. I sat on the bed. It was about ten o’clock. I was in the
basement of a country lodge in a room where moisture seemed dripping to be dripping
off the wall and the flagstone floor was so frigid I could feel it through my
sneakers. I tried to read a magazine that I brought with me but the bulb had
such a low wattage I strained to read the print.
A while later I woke. Gerda was in the
room. She had a plate of cold cuts, cheese and black bread, along with a couple
of bottles of mineral water. I glanced at my watch: eleven forty.
“I see you in the morning,” she said laying
the goodies on the table. “There’s a water closet just down the hall. But be
quiet if you need to use this.”
“Tschüs!” she bade farewell. This
was all so weird. I didn’t know what I could do: I didn’t know where I was and
wherever it was, it was miles to anywhere. I lay down and went back to sleep on
the rough blankets.
* * *
Gerda woke me in the morning. The room—cell
really—was still damp and cold. I could hear cars outside and wheels spinning
in the gravel.
“Come. We go upstairs.” She took my bag of
the chair.
I hadn’t bothered to undress the previous so
followed Gerda still a little bleary-eyed. We traced the way down the hallway
through the entrance we’d come in the night before. I felt stiff. The only car
in the parking area was Gerda’s. In the morning light I could see more of the
house. A large A-frame with stairs leading up to the front door. The garden was
simple and well kept: undulating lawns interspersed with islands of bushes and
flowers. About hundred feet around the house was a high hedge, perhaps ten or
twelve feet high, made of tightly planted pine or cypress and forming a green
wall.
Inside the house was rich. The entrance way
was tiled in ceramics and opened into a large living space. There were
comfortable leather armchairs and couches dotted around the space. The whole
front of the room was glass, opening onto a terrace and beyond that a view over
the hedge into a scenic valley. Gerda didn’t give me pause to admire the view
but led me upstairs. On the landing of the second floor there was another
sitting room, smaller than the room below, overlooking the same vista. Gerda
led me up another flight to the top floor—she was wearing the same tight jeans
and her well-rounded rump swelled as she climbed the stairs. There there were
four well-sized bedrooms and two full bathrooms: the doors were all open and it
was obvious that at least two of the rooms had been used the night before.
“Here.” She gestured toward one of the
bedrooms at the back of the house. It was clean and the bed, unlike the cot I
just vacated, was made up. I looked out the window, which looked over the
parking area at the back of the house and heavy entrance gates could be seen in
the distance. Gerda put my gym bag on the bed on leaned against the doorjamb.
“So…” I turned toward her. “Take off your
clothes.”
I stared at her. She smiled at me. “Excuse
me?” I asked.
“I said to take off your clothes.”
Another test. I had to make a decision.
Sitting on the bed I took off my sandals
and tee shirt. And looked up at her. She was still leaning against the
doorframe, her ankles crossed.
“All” she instructed. Reluctantly I
unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped them. I stood up and step out my pants and
boxers. I felt vulnerable before her gaze. Gerda’s eyes passed over my body
evaluating it.
“Come.” It was said as an order. She turned
and left the room and dutifully I followed her downstairs. The second floor had
a couple of bedrooms, larger than the ones upstairs, at the back of the house.
Gerda went into one. “You can come in.”
She unbuttoned her shirt and took it off.
Her ample bosom filled a beige bra that pulled her tits together to form a deep
valley. The clasp was at the front and when she released it Gerda’s breasts
swung apart and dropped like pendulums. She unbuttoned her pants and stepped
out of them, standing in matching panties. She turned around. Her buttocks
stretched the silky fabric, but she quickly shimmied out of them. Her back was
tanned and I noted that her backside was too. It was also generous but firm.
She turned around and faced me. Her dark pubic patch was thick, tangled,
overgrown. Above it was a rounded belly with a little flab. Her tits were also
tanned.
“You must be hungry,” she judged staring at
my exposed crotch. Seeing her naked generated a physical reaction. “There is
food downstairs.”
Embarrassed of my hardening penis I
followed her downstairs. It was weird walking around the house naked. Even
stranger when Gerda showed me out on to the terrace and had me sit down on a
plastic chair in the sun. Out in the daylight, with the view of the
countryside, I felt even more exposed.
Gerda went back in the house and returned a
few minutes later with a tray of food and coffee. She sat down next to me, and
every once in a while her thigh brushed mine. There were pastries and fruit we
munched on. We were sitting in the sun and warmed up quickly.
I tried not to be obvious but took in the
woman eating breakfast. Gerda’s breasts were plump and probably as large as
Joyce’s. What I found fascinating were the aureoles, which were like mini-tits
on top of her already large ones. They were a rosy color and were plush
cushions, and contrasted with the brown tan. The nipples themselves were small
dark nubbins that barely broke the surface.
While we ate Gerda talked about the house
and her nudism. The house belonged to her aunt and uncle, who used in mainly in
the summer. Naturism was something she had been brought up into; the tall
hedgerow made this a privacy haven, though Gerda also went to camps. As she
talked she picked off pieces of fruit—strawberries and melon slices—from the
bowl and put them into her lips. Gerda’s tongue would swirl around the morsels,
seductively pulling them into her mouth. The pragmatism of her description of
growing up in a nudist family contrasted with the prurient way she ate. Gerda
chomped on the last strawberry, patted and then gripped my thigh.
“So…” she mused, “is it the fresh air that
makes you excited? Or me?” We both looked down at my semi-hard cock inches from
her fingers. “Come. We walk now.”
We went down the stairs on the side of the terrace, rounding to the back of the house. The house blocked the sunlight so it was shadowy and cool. The gravel pricked my barefeet and I walked awkwardly on the shadows. Gerda opened her car door and leaned into get something from the back seat. I was behind and saw how her buttocks stretched as she bent forward, and then the fuzzy thatch that hid her sex sprung out from between her legs. Blood surged into my groin again. Gerda appeared not to notice and we continued our walk though she now was laden with some file folders. When we rounded the corner the sun instantly warmed me.
“We go to the pool,” Gerda directed. I
hadn’t seen a pool. It was at the front of the house beneath the terrace we had
breakfasted on. It wasn’t very large, maybe fifteen or eighteen feet in length and
half that in width, but at one corner was a hot tub that could seat five or six
tucked up under the eaves supporting the terrace. Around the pool was a band of
concrete with some chaises and umbrellas.
Gerda sat down on one of the chaises that
lay in the sun. I sat down in the one beside her. The plastic webbing was hot.
Gerda started going through one of the file folders and squinted to read in the
bright light. Looking down my body I could see my cock was thick but rubbery.
Out of the corner of my eye I made glances over to Gerda. She was reading
intently. The puffy pink aureoles seemed to have swelled in the heat and lifted
the small tan nipples. Three convex shapes—her breasts, the bloated cushion,
and the pap of her tit.
A bead of sweat appeared beneath her
breast. I watched it form and then trickle down her belly and stop on a ridge
of flesh; then it grew again till the surface tension broke and it dribbled
farther down like a creek until captured by the thatch of her bush. Clearly she
didn’t shave much there. Maybe something about living au naturel but the hair
there was darker than that on her head. Other droplets formed and cascaded into
her jungle-like pubic hair. There was a tangle of wet trails crisscrossing
Gerda’s stomach.
“You are thirsty?” Gerda asked, putting
down the folder. I nodded and we went into the house by way of the terrace.
There was a large country kitchen and Gerda fixed a pitcher of spring water
mixed with a tray of ice.
“Perhaps you wish to read. My uncle is a
doctor of literature. He has many books in English.” She showed me the library.
It was a room made dark by wood paneling and bookshelves. “These are in
German,” she indicated the shelves running the length of the room and then
pointed to the back wall, “but these are literature foreign. And his erotica.”
She pulled a large book from a lower shelf
and flipped it open on the desk. Over her shoulder I saw some exquisite
pen-and-ink drawings of a woman, her bodice ripped exposing her breasts, bound
to a table. Around her were three men with their faces hidden by the upturned
collars of the cloaks. Gerda glanced to gauge my reaction. My face was flushed.
She flipped over the page. The same woman, still tied down, with her legs open
exposing her sex that was about to penetrated by huge dildo. It was a graphic
depiction. Gerda shut the book.
“So… perhaps something less… exciting,” she
mused. My cock had thickened.
I found something tamer to read, a Kerouac
novel. Back we went to the poolside. I settled into my book but the whole situation
of being naked in this bucolic scene with a similarly naked woman maybe fifteen
years older sat awkwardly in the back of mind. What was going on?
Sidelong glances over Gerda led me to being
distracted by the sweat trickling over her belly. Every few minutes she’d
scratch her public hair and run her fingers through the tangles. I wondered if
it was some unconscious reaction to the tension.
“Hallo!”
Gerda and I looked up simultaneously. Leaning
over the terrace someone was hailing us. I struggled in the brightness to
recognized who it was. Gerda was quicker.
“Johanna!” she exclaimed, “Haben Sie eine
gute Reise gehabt?”
“Ja!” Gerda’s cousin had a good trip. From
where? And what brought her here?
“Haben Sie Lisette gebracht?”
“Ich bin hier!” Another head popped over
the terrace parapet. That was Lisette. I strained to make out who it was. And
then it dawned on me that I was lying beneath the two visitors naked as a
jaybird. I could feel my prick coil up.
“Gut!” Gerda got out of the chaise and
pulled me up to feet. “Come,” she said without letting go of my hand and led me
up to the terrace.
“Johanna you know,” she explained. “Lisette
is our nice.”
I looked at her, puzzled.
“My brother’s daughter,” she went on.
“Niece.” I enunciated the word.
“Ja, Lisette is my niece,” she pronounced
with equal care.
I stood awkwardly while Gerda embraced and
kissed her family. In any circumstance I would have been but standing there
fully exposed made it a lot worse. Johanna was wearing a pale-blue tracksuit
and her red hair seemed to bounce off her shoulders. Beside Gerda the family
resemblance was striking. They were the same height and build, though Johanna
was plumper and smoothed by makeup. I noticed flies and wasps hovering over the
remains of our breakfast.
Lisette was gorgeous. She was taller than
her aunts, maybe five-eight or –nine. She looked about seventeen or eighteen
and had healthy straw-colored hair that was coarse and braided into two thick
ponytails. Instantly the plaits reminded me of the pictures I’d seen earlier
and the cords that bound the woman to the table; and then it occurred to me
that Lisette’s facial structure was strikingly similar to the same character in
those sketches. High cheekbones, thick lips, a distinct button-nose, and polar
blue eyes. She was wearing a white tight tee shirt that hugged her breasts,
revealed the outline of her bra, and had a ‘Pony’ logo in blue on a pink,
heart-shaped background. She wore cut-offs and, looking down her long legs, was
barefoot. I urged myself not to demonstrably react.
The new-arrivals went upstairs while I
helped Gerda with lunch. There were lots of leftovers from the anniversary
party which we sliced and diced. It felt dangerous doing that with so much
flesh lolling around. Johanna joined us we put platters together. She wore a
one-piece bathing suit, mocha colored, which while clasping her pendulous body
was frilly enough to keep it disguised. There was a rat-a-tat exchanged between
the cousins that, from what I understood, involved Gerda teasing Johanna.
Right when we were finishing the lunch preparations Lisette joined us. Like Johanna she wasn’t willing to stalk naked which only made me feel more self-conscious. She had wrapped a pale sarong around her body, but over her hips and not around the armpits. Still her breasts were somewhat secluded: the twin braids drooped over her shoulders so the ends, held together my blue elastic bands, barely covered her nipples. Lisette’s breasts had a similar shape to her aunt, Gerda, but were firmer and youthful. Behind the swaying plaits I could discern her nipples: they were perky and protruding, and the aureoles where a thin perimeter of goose-bumped skin. And Lisette had clear tan-lines: they curved over the circumference of her breasts just above the nipples and girded their base.
We ate lunch inside in the ground-floor living area. The women spoke rapid-fire German that I couldn’t always follow, but seemed mainly about the celebration of the anniversary. Johanna had pulled a couple of bottles of white wine from the cooler that we easily consumed. Gerda kept filling my glass so I probably had more than my fair share. Every now-and-then I found it peculiar to be sitting around a table, naked, with an equally naked Gerda, her half-naked niece, and clothed Johanna. The women didn’t seem to notice, though Gerda teased her cousin for keeping on her swimsuit.
After the meal we went back to the pool. I lay out on a towel, and between the sun and wine felt pretty drowsy soon was napping. I don’t know how long I was out, but blurrily woke with someone touching my back. I was lying on my stomach. Soft hands were pressing into my shoulder blades, pressing hot oil into the skin. I kept my eyes closed. And then further down spreading the oil over my back. At first I just tried to recall where I was. Then tried to work out who it was. And then the hands reached my buns. The oily liquid was spread over my buttocks and the finger silkily kneaded the flesh.
“So… you are burning.” I recognized Gerda’s voice. Another pair of hands gripped my shoulder and rubbed the oil deeper into my pores.
I opened my eyes. Gerda was kneeling before my face, her knees inches from my chin. I recognized her from the overgrown jungle of her snatch. The top of her labia poked from between who thighs. Who was kneading my butt? I glanced sideways and saw Johanna, lounging on chaise, her eyes peering curiously over the fashion magazine in her hands.
Lisette dribbled oil down the back of my legs and rubbed it the lotion. Her hands were firm but gentle. I couldn’t see her.
“Now, turn over yourself.” Gerda gripped my shoulders, rotating me onto my back. The bright glare took a few second to adapt to. Then the dark umbra became clear. Lisette was concentrating on trickling suntan lotion on the front of my legs. Once satisfied, she handed the bottle to her aunt. Gerda shimmied till my head was clenched between her knees and poured a pool of the oil onto my sternum and, putting the bottle in the pit of my arm, started working the oil through my chest hair into my skin. Forced to look upward all I could see were the swinging globes of her breasts above my head. Her nipples were like tiny pebbles resting on the pillows of her puffy aureoles.
Lisette took the bottle from my armpit. I jerked when the hot liquid hit my groin. It dribbled onto my cock, over my balls and down the crack of my ass. Fingers grabbed my flabby penis. I could feel the knuckles work as Lisette’s fingertips worked the oil in my flesh. Naturally I started getting hard. Lisette continued fingering the oil to the root of my hard-on. And then cupped my balls with one hand and spread the lotion gently over their surface with the fingers of the other. My erection flopped onto my stomach.
“Johanna, aben Sie ein dieses große gesehen?” Gerda asked, releasing the hold on my skull. Automatically I turned to look at Johanna’s reaction to my big thing. She’d put the magazine down on her thighs. She seemed more than a little fascinated.
“Machen Sie es aufsteht,” Gerda ordered. Lisette took my meat and stood it vertical. I could feel my face growing flush. “Möchten Sie es fahren?”
Johanna answered the invite to mount me by lifting the magazine to her face and appeared to reading it intently. Lisette was holding my hard-on in the middle, pressing it between her thumb and index finger; she swung it a little from side to side. Above me Gerda was also looking at the rock-hard tower. I was getting mightily embarrassed from the scrutiny. Gerda’s knees locked my head, anticipating that I would try to get up.
“Lisette?” The teenager had a wanton look at the erection she was holding. I was staring at her firm, full breasts and the pale nipples that pointed at me like tiny bullets.
“Nien…” she paused, “Es ist jene Zeit vom Monat.” She was having her period.
I thought Gerda was about to mount me right there, in front of her cousin and niece. I struggled to break free from the knee lock, got up and jumped into the pool. The cold water sent a shockwave through my body. The women laughed.
* * *
I don’t know if that was what Gerda had planned. I cooled off in the water. On the one hand being around these women, in their various states of undress, did make me horny. On the other I was being treated like a plaything, a piece of meat. The way I was offered by Gerda to her cousin and then her niece… it was also the same way that Gerda had offered the groupies—Nixie, Ailse, and Ulka—to me. But who was being used?
Gerda seemed upset at my display of independence and was indifferent throughout the afternoon. The other two women seemed to recognize my feelings were hurt, or at least bruised, and tried to be kinder to me.
In the late afternoon we all went back to the house. Out of some defiance I put on some shorts which a sharp comment from Gerda. She seemed pissed. Johanna had to go back home that evening, and went upstairs to change and pack. Gerda announced that we would be going out to a restaurant for dinner. I put on some nice clothes and waited for the women to get ready to leave.
We all left together but at crossroads Johanna sped off in her BMW back to the city. Gerda seemed to be a little friendlier as we drove on to the restaurant though had seemed to make a point of having me relegated to the backseat. Lisette kept the conversation going insisting that she wanted to practice her English. She spoke very fluently and didn’t need that practice. There was only a slight hint of a Teutonic accent.
The dinner was great and the restaurant very high brow with a hunting lodge theme. The food was all gamey: venison, partridge and such. With we drank copious amounts of which red wine. The more we drank the more cozy we became. By the time we finished the meal Gerda had too much drink to drive, and though she protested, I got behind the wheel after Lisette and I coaxed her into the back of the car. Lisette rode shot-gun and gave directions back to the house.
Gerda was pretty much out of it by the time we got there. I helped Lisette man-, or should that be woman-, handle her aunt upstairs and laid her out on the bed. Gerda did make a grab for my manhood but missed, and pretty soon she was snoring contently. Lisette and I went downstairs, watched some television and chattered. I wanted to put a move on her but felt that could be awkward. But when we did turn in, as I has on the landing about to climb to the third floor, Lisette hugged me and planted a nice smacking kiss on my lips. They were thick and plush. We sucked face for a minute, both tentatively darting on tongues against one another, before breaking off and going to our separate beds.
* * *
I woke early but could already hear noises
downstairs. I wrapped a towel round my
waist and went down to the kitchen. The women
were washing fruit and the rich aroma of coffee filled the room. Gerda was naked and Lisette wore only a tight
blue bikini bottom. We went out to the
terrace and had breakfast.
After we ate Lisette went down to the pool
while Gerda cleaned up the remnants of breakfast. I sat on the terrace and
watched the blonde teenager inflate an air mattress with a foot pump. I could
see her out of the corner of my eye through the railings. Lisette had an
incredible rack that rose and fell, swaying slightly, with each push of her
foot. Once the lilo was inflated she tossed onto the water and dived into the
pool. She swam a couple of laps and then rinsed out her hair. Her breasts were
buoyant in the water that made her nipples tight with cold. They swung as she clambered
onto the mattress. I don’t know what material Lisette’s bikini bottoms were
made of but the water had made them translucent. As she lay on her stomach the
orbs of her buttocks and the cleavage between them was clearly visible.
“So… you would like to sleep with her?” I
hadn’t heard Gerda return to the terrace. She was sitting about ten feet away.
There was a stern tone to her voice. I looked in my lap and the result of my
watching Lisette. I wasn’t sporting a hard-on but my dick was visibly swollen.
Gerda was sitting facing me. She was
resting her chin on one hand anticipating my answer. Then I noticed the other
hand was between her legs. She followed my gaze and as it reached the thick
tangle of her pubic hair she spread her thighs. Her index finger lethargically
stroked the lips of her sex. I could feel my penis swelling. The tip of her
finger glistened with her dew and flicked the hood and the top of her cleft.
The crenellation of her labia interlocked like a closed clamshell. Gerda
tickled her clit and her lips, the same brown color of her tanned skin, parted
slightly.
“Spielt damit.” Gerda’s voice was low and
guttural. My cock, growing erect, plopped on my thigh. I ran the palm of my
hand over its length.
“Ja,” she encouraged. Gerda’s thumb brushed
over the hood of her clitoris. Her middle finger delicately parted the crease
between her parting lips.
I glanced down at the pool. Lisette was
still lying on the mattress that was circling around the surface of the pool.
Her legs were pointing at me and there was a dark shadow where they met her
ass.
“Schauen Sie
I started masturbating matching my strokes
to the circling motion of Gerda’s thumb. I focused on the movement of her hand
in and around her sex. After a couple of minutes Gerda inserted her forefinger
into her twat. Her other hand grasped her left breast, squeezing it hard. I
gripped my cock with all four fingers, instead of two, and my thumb. Gerda’s
digital rotation was more obvious with two fingers rolling around in unison as
a single dagger. The knuckles above the fingers were getting damp as her juices
spilled onto them. Her motion was getting faster.
There was a splash below. I glance over the
balusters to the pool. I calculated that from the angle Lisette was climbing
onto the lilo and settle on her back. As she clambered on near-naked buttocks
spread revealingly. Her breasts settled
like jellied molds when she lay down. The almost transparent bikini panties
reveled a dark delta patch between her legs.
“Kommen Sie,” urged Gerda between hollow
pants. Her thumb was twiddling her button fast.
Her fingers no longer rotated but darted in-and-out between her
labia. Three fingers… then all four. I
stroked myself faster. I would feel own
eruption brewing. I wanted to keep my
timing and matched hers. I glanced at her eyes to try and pace her. She stared
fixedly at me, alternating between catching my gaze and watching my cock. The
tip of her tongue dabbed from her lips, sending a shiver down my spine. We were getting close. I could see it in the
tenseness of her mouth. I let myself go.
A spurt of come traced in arc in front of
me and splattered on the blue ceramic tile. Out of the corner of my eye I could
see Gerda’s leg quivering. She’d removed
her fingers from her vagina. Her middle
finger and thumb spread open her lip and uncovered her brown clitoris that she
was diddling with her forefinger. Her
whole body was shaking as she came. The hand on her breast fell away and I
could see the red marks left from the pressure of her grip. A second spurt
erupted and jumped—not quite as far—on the tile. Gerda’s eyes rolled back as she climaxed. A third jet of spunk shot out the end of my
cock. I looked below to see is Lisette had noticed what was going on the
terrace. She seemed to be napping. Between her legs I could see the outline of
her sex. Another jolt of come. Gerda’s fingers slowed to a gentle caress of her
sex. The remainder of my climax dribbled over my cockhead.
Gerda smiled and moistened her lips with
her tongue. I was still holding by cock that began to loll in my hand.
Lisette’s air mattress spun slowly around in the pool. Gerda got out of her chair and picked up a
napkin from the table. First she carefully folded it, and then wiped between
her legs and dabbed the inside of her thighs.
She refolded the linen so the dampness was in the center of the pad and
squatted, with her back toward me, to clean up my seed from the floor. Satisfied she had got the forensic evidence
she squatted between my legs and cleaned my cock. She was low enough that her
niece wouldn’t see her. Finished, Gerda went inside and disposed of the napkin.
* * *
After lunch we started packing for
home. Gerda mentioned that there was a bookcase I could have for my new
apartment that was in storage in the basement. Lisette and I were able to lug
it up. Luckily we were fully dressed by that time since we scraped against the
stone walls to get it through the door and up the stairs. It barely fit in the
trunk of Gerda’s car. The drive back to
the city was quiet—I think we all had a little too much sun.
Gerda drove to my apartment building first.
She offered to help me with the bookcase that we had to get to the fourth
floor. It was a tight squeeze in the
elevator. The bookcase was about three
feet high and five feet long and had to be angled along the diagonal of the
elevator car. We stood behind it and I
had to reach over the bookcase to close the manual gates and hit the button. As
I was doing that Gerda pulled down my fly and expertly extracted my cock. I stood back in surprise and she was already
on her knees mashing my limp dick with her mouth.
It probably took thirty seconds for the
lift to creak up to my floor. Which was
longer than it took me to get a rock hard erection. Gerda was pointing the root into her mouth
with one hand. The other was under her
denim miniskirt between her legs. She
sucked me off for a couple of minutes after we got to the fourth floor. Her
mouth was teasing me and coaxed pre-come that she swirled around her mouth and
my cock-head with her tongue.
She only stopped when someone rattled the
outer gate of the elevator car. She
stood quickly, brushing down the hem of her skirt, and lifted up the bookshelf.
The inner door of the car slid open just I was lifting up my end of the shelf.
My hard-on was still exposed and chafed against the teeth of the zipper, but
hidden by the furniture. It was my neighbor, Herr Waltz. He was an elderly,
white-haired retiree who wasn’t too happy I’d moved onto his floor. He eyed us
suspiciously.
“Guten Abend, Herr Waltz.” I greeted him
with courtesy. He grunted. As Gerda and I maneuvered the bookcase he tried to help
but Gerda was able to dissuade him. I was petrified he’d see my now
less-than-hard dick. I was able to keep it covered, though had to carry the
heavy shelves awkwardly, and unlock the door of my apartment. Herr Waltz was in
no hurry to go anyway and watched us doubtfully from the lift door. Gerda and I
wrestled through the door, me leading, into the narrow foyer and plumped the
bookshelf on the floor.
Gerda immediately sprang and grabbed
softening erection. She rubbed the
foreskin up-and-down over the hardening pole while pressing her chest against
me. Her breasts cascaded into each other
producing a deep cleavage I could view down her orange blouse. After a minute
she dropped to her knees and pulled by hard-on into a horizontal position.
Her plump lips brushed against the dome of
my cock but the tip of her tongue probed my pee-hole like an awl digging out my
pre-come. My dick was hard to her touch. Holding it with one hand she lifted
the hem of her skirt around her waist revealing her dense wiry bush. With her
free hand she started to play with herself.
She released me for a second.
“Lisette wartet.” Lisette is waiting. Her
lips pressed against my cockhead and the released it.
“Wir müssen schnell sein.” We must be
quick. Gerda’s head darted forward and effortlessly took the whole length of
hard-on into her mouth and down her throat. I could feel the head pressing
against her gullet while her lips mashed into my pubic hair. After about ten
seconds she released me, making a little gagging sound and took a deep breath.
Again she plunged till her mouth pressed against the moistening mat of my
pubes. Somehow she used her throat to twist my cockhead—it hurt but in a really
nice way. She gurgled a little and then
hummed. The vibration titillated the length of my tense cock and I could feel
the eruption of come coursing through my cock. I had been in her mouth less
than the sixty seconds. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t hold back.
As the first spurt hit the back of Gerda’s
throat she released half my dick so my climax spilled into her mouth. Her
tongue swirled over the head lapping and collecting my seed. Her eyes were
closed.
After the final squirt she let me go and
stood up. She opened her mouth slightly and pushed some of my cream between her
lips and quickly sucked it back as it poised to drool over her chin. I watched
as she swallowed.
“Eiweiß.” I had to ask someone what that
meant later… protein. She took my half-hard penis and packed it into my pants.
“It tastes good,” Gerda said in English.
She leaned up and kissed me, pushing her tongue in my mouth and I could taste
myself.
“I must go,” she announced and opened the
front door of my apartment. As she closed it she popped her head in the jam and
added, “Sie schulden mir Ein.”
So I owed her one.
As I arranged the bookcase I wonder how and
when I would repay the debt.