by Jaye Peaches
My scalp prickled, first with the exhilaration, then because he’d grasped my locks in his fists and tugged. My damp hair, made smooth with conditioner, released a perfume as he coiled his fingers about the strands. He anchored his hands and eased me closer to his groin, forcing me farther than I’d ever managed before. My innermost place, deep within my lower belly, tightened, surprising me with its abilities to accommodate his girth and length.
I struggled to breathe and I slapped his thighs. My head sprang back as he dropped his hands to the side. The pre-cum he’d spilled pooled on my tongue. I swallowed, opened my eyes and looked up at Stefan. He seemed to tower over me and his face glowed, a beacon telling me he existed in a state of bliss. So did I. I leaned forward, ready to take him again.
“No,” he said. He tipped my chin up with a finger. “On the bed, let’s both enjoy this.”
Oh, my. My inner motor purred as he helped me up and tipped me onto the bed. He lay down and his cock beckoned to me. I crawled over to him with my bottom up in the air.
He grabbed my leg. “Up and over,” he instructed. “And wait for my command.”
Command! My pulse rate rocketed with excitement. I knelt astride his shoulders, facing his feet, and lowered my head. My lips touched his rock-hard penis. I kissed the bulbous head and at the same time, he drew my hips down and licked my cleft. My legs almost gave out from under me. I quivered, struggling to hold position. He pried my arse cheeks apart with his thumbs, and he curled his tongue into my slit, lapping up my juices.
I sucked him hard, and each time I sank onto his shaft with my mouth, he nibbled on me or buried his mouth deeper into my exposed, bare sex. My clit ached as he fluttered his tongue, reminding me that my orgasm was perched on the brink. I couldn’t hold it any longer and his cock slipped out of my mouth as I hollered, begging him to stop.
“No more,” I implored.
Stefan’s flutters grew more intense, driving my orgasm on and on, until I could bear the exquisite pleasure no longer. I lunged forward and collapsed on my side next to him.
I lost track of time, lying there. He pinched my bottom. “You came, Mausi.”
I opened my eyes, the lids flickering.
He tucked his hands behind his head. “Now, what would be a suitable punishment for you?” he mused, staring up at the ceiling.
“I… I…” I struggled to find the right words while he waited. “Anything, if it makes you happy,” I finally blurted.
He rose onto his elbows. “Such a delicious request, how can I refuse you?” He smiled.
I expected him to throw me on my back and plunder my pussy with one of his rampaging fucks. A rush of hot blood filled my cheeks and I waited breathlessly. Instead, he climbed off the bed and, while he fingered his erect penis, he hunted about in a chest of drawers. He held up a condom. “Here.”
“But I’m still, you know…”
“Not for this.” He tapped his cock. “Oh, no. Mausi needs a special chastisement for coming without me.”
“Chastisement,” I repeated, watching him tear the wrapper with his teeth. I expected him to roll it over his cock, but he didn’t. He pushed his forefinger into the condom and sheathed the digit. I stared at him as a gentle smirk formed on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding.” I shuffled backward. “I’ve not done anything like that before.”
“Trust me, Mausi, you’re going to love it. Just my finger. Nothing else. Sometimes, that is all that is needed. Don’t worry.”
“Needed?” Who did he think he was, coming up with these debauched ways to torment me sexually?
“Oh, you need it.” He stepped forward.
He went to the bedside cabinet and fetched out a bottle of lubricant. “See? Nothing harsh. I told you, I don’t do pain. I want you to enjoy this. All that I ask is that you do as you’re told. That’s the fun part for me.”
“Will, you…stick that in me?” I pointed at his extraordinary cock, wary of his size.
Stefan laughed. “Liebling, no. You’re very new to all this and I prefer my cock in your pussy. Once your little punishment is done, I’m going to fuck that hole of yours, hard. How’s that for a deal?”
I brushed aside all those self-doubts about my ability to cope. He believed in me and he’d not been wrong so far. Sex was our elixir, the tonic for repairing our fractured relationship. At some point, we’d have to use conventional methods to find out about each other. We would date and be romantic, but for now, we lived to be intimate with each other.
“All right,” I said. “But be gentle.”
He picked up a pillow and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed the lube next to him and tossed the pillow on the floor between his feet. I blinked, uncertain of the arrangement. He wanted me to kneel? It didn’t make sense.
“Put your knees on either side of my legs, lean forward and rest your elbows on the pillow.”
I opened then shut my mouth like a silly goldfish. Seriously? He wanted me perched upside down and with my ass sticking in the air? I hesitated, unsure as to exactly how I would achieve such a strange position.
“Mausi, I asked you to do as you’re told,” he reminded with a resonating voice.
I moved my leaden legs. Something about that deep voice affected me. I responded to it as if programmed. I took my time, trying to establish some degree of gracefulness in my cumbersome movements. He helped, holding me as I lowered my head down between his legs. The pillow bore my weight and I buried my head in my folded arms.
I trembled uncontrollably—part nervousness, part erotic excitement. Such a ludicrous pose to be in, and the blood rushed to my head, creating a sensation of heaviness in my face. Next to me, his feet, and I wanted to laugh at the idea of being alongside his toes. Neat-looking toes with trimmed nails. I shut my eyes. It helped to cut myself off from my surroundings. Each tick of the clock by the bed kept me on edge. What the hell was he going to do?
The soft caress of his smooth skin heralded the arrival of his hands. I cringed as he spread his palms on each ass cheek and separated my globes with his thumbs, just as he had done when we’d performed our sixty-nine position.
I heard a soft sigh. “Oh, liebling,” he murmured.
I didn’t know what to expect. I had no visual clues to his intentions, his technique. I gulped mouthfuls of air into my lungs. He traced the outline of my labia and from there down, into my slit.
“You’re so swollen. Puffed pink lips,” he remarked. He slipped a finger inside my pussy and rotated. “A wet hussy too.” His running commentary added to the thrill and my predicament. The vulnerable position energized my sexual core. I leaked about him and he added another finger.
“Ah!” I gasped. Something icy landed between my cheeks. It drizzled down my crack and over my anus. I flinched with shock at the coldness. He’d applied the lubricant generously and it slithered down the length of my cleft in one continuous stream. The tension forced me to hold my breath as I waited for him to penetrate me.
“Relax. Breathe. Don’t hold your breath, or else it will hurt,” he said. “It’s cold at the moment. I’m going to warm you up.”
He rubbed the lube into my groove, circling it around my anus, applying an increasing amount of pressure. The coolness diminished, replaced by friction and heat. I concentrated on slowing my breathing and keeping my legs relaxed. I lay on his thighs, letting my knees give and my hips splay farther.
“Good girl,” he muttered. “You’re doing really well.”
Such gentle words of encouragement brought minute tears to my eyes. I’d never anticipated that sex could be gifted in such a way as to make me feel appreciated and commended.
Something nudged against my anus. He probed with his sheathed finger, and I jumped before remembering his suggestion to focus on my breathing. I did, treating it like an exercise. I imagined playing a scale—two octaves of eight notes—breathing once at the start and again at the top note. With each breath, I pushed slightly backward, meeting his finger. He edged in slowly, a tortu
rous, but necessary pace. I experienced no pain, but some discomfort as I stretched. My tight ring gave, millimeter by millimeter.
He accompanied my virgin ass finger-fuck with a vigorous frigging of my vagina. The duet, played by his expert fingers, sent me closer to my orgasm, and when he hooked two fingers inside my pussy, targeting my sensitive spot, I edged to the precipice.
“I’m going to come,” I gasped. “I…can’t…”
“Come,” he intoned. “As many times as you can.”
It wasn’t what I had expected, but it was what I wanted, needed from him—permission to let myself go. I erupted, and as I achieved my orgasm, he wriggled his solitary finger deeper into my taut asshole. The sense of fullness, the impact it had on my orgasm, was tremendous. My scream of delight ricocheted around the bedroom. It didn’t stop there. Within a few seconds, I built another impending climax. My calves twitched as he inserted a third finger in my pussy, instigating ripples of contractions.
Hot breath bloomed over my quivering ass. He exhaled rapidly and panted with the exertions of his frenzied fingers. I didn’t think he could possibly do anything more to excite my exhilarated flesh, but he did. He swiveled his digits about inside me and reached under with his thumb.
“Oh, fuck!” Not my clitoris, please, dear God.
He rubbed it, and that, along with his buried fingers, sent me sky high with spasms. I tensed around him, unable or unwilling to breathe. I slumped down onto the pillow, my face smothered.
I barely registered his fingers disappearing as he withdrew. He maneuvered me like pliable clay, lifting me off his lap and helping the blood return to my lower torso. The pressure in my facial cheeks dissipated. I hadn’t noticed the discomfort. He spun me around, so my shoulders and head rested on the bed, my feet on the floor. The pillow he wedged under my hips. Then I felt it. His cock like a steel rod, pressing down into me. He entered me with an eagerness I loved. He’d given me a cocktail of sensual pleasure and multiple orgasms. Now, I wanted him to pump into me.
He pounded me with one of his incredible rough displays of fuckery. He pressed a hand on the small of my back while looping an arm under my pelvis. The angle altered and he plundered deeper. I clawed at the trampled bedcovers, hugging them to my chest as he increased his pace. He crushed my tender breasts underneath me and I winced as my nipples ached, yearning to be touched.
“Come,” he urged. “Please, Mausi.”
I didn’t think I had anything left to give, but he dug it out with his persistent voice. He moaned, grunted and uttered words in German. All of which added to the thrill. My final orgasm didn’t explode out of me, neither was it ruined by exhaustion. Instead, it gently rose to a pleasant climax and spread about my body in waves. Stefan spurted as I contracted my pussy muscles. He growled, slowing his pace until he had spent his final drop of cum.
He withdrew and slumped on his back next to me, his legs resting on the floor. “Meine Gott,” he muttered. “That was something, Callie. You”—he turned to face me—“are special.” He brushed the hair from my eyes and kissed my sweaty forehead. “Thank you.”
I wanted to show my gratitude, but my dry mouth couldn’t form the words. I scrambled onto the bed and curled up into a ball. Within seconds, I fell asleep.
* * * *
The smell of food woke me. Perhaps twenty minutes had passed. I didn’t know. Time and I had parted company since the swim. I heaved myself up and threw aside the covering, which Stefan must have placed on me. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms up, arching my back. My pussy felt sore and my clit pleasantly tender. Fortunately, my anus remained unaffected by its first sexual adventure.
“Wow,” I giggled. “That, he can do again.” I wouldn’t tell him that, though, not to his face. Another time, when I failed to do what he asked, I hoped he would punish me again. Which made me wonder what else he had up his sleeve when it came to exploring the sensual realm.
After I’d dressed, I found Stefan in the kitchen cooking something savory on the stove. I wrapped my arms about his waist and snuggled into his back. His shirt smelled freshly laundered. My senses seemed extra sensitive—the midday particularly bright, the birds chirping outside and the aroma of food pervasive. “What are you making?”
“Suppe mit Knoedel.”
I walked round him and peered into the saucepan. I glanced up at him and arched my eyebrows.
“Soup with potato dumplings. A traditional Bavarian dish.” He stirred the liquid.
“What kind of soup?” I asked.
His nose went a little pink. “I’m not sure. I found it in the freezer in a tub. Rest assured, my father is a good cook, if unreliable with his labeling.”
I sniffed. “It smells of chicken and oregano.”
“Then it’s chicken soup.” He grinned.
It tasted delicious. I smacked my lips a few times to make a point of showing him. The dumplings had looked stodgy, but turned out to be light and flavorsome.
He chatted about how he missed the local recipes, mentioning various dishes in his rapid German. I smiled sweetly, but lost the ingredients along the way as he darted about his mental recipe book.
He stopped and his face stiffened. “I’m afraid I have to go to the hospital this afternoon and visit Dad.”
“Don’t apologize for that. You came here to be with him, and I’ve sidetracked you.” I dabbed my lips with a napkin.
“I have to admit, I’ve enjoyed being distracted, taking advantage of you. Taking what I like is always pleasurable.” He scooped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl without looking up.
I put down my spoon and huffed out a long sigh. He peered across at me and I glared back. I could see his thought processes ticking over as he furrowed his eyebrows.
He chewed at his lip. “That sounded worse than I intended. Please, don’t ever let me ride roughshod over you.”
I picked up my spoon. “Better. I don’t mind all your power talk in the bedroom, but, Stefan”—I leaned forward and stared into his dark eyes, noting his crestfallen features—“I desire romance too. I’m not Magda. And, as I’m learning, you’re certainly not Micah.” I smiled and patted the back of his hand with my spoon. “This is delicious. Compliments to the chefs—father and son. So, you go to a local hospital?”
“Unfortunately, he was transferred to a specialist unit on the outskirts of Munich. It’s about an hour away.”
“Oh.”
“I suggest,” said Stefan, “that you explore the local area. This village has nothing of interest, but Wolfratshausen has a cultural history and a lovely riverside. I’ll drop you off on the way to the hospital and”—he scraped his chair back and walked over to a drawer—“you can catch the bus back.” He rummaged about before extracting a piece of paper. “Timetable.”
He held out his hand, and I took the printed sheet.
“You’ll be back later?”
“By evening. There are boutiques. I’m sure you’ll find some nice things to buy.” He collected the plates.
“How much is the bus fare?” I asked. I tried to recall how many euros I had left in my purse. I frowned.
“Callie?” He whipped a tea towel over his shoulder and cursed under his breath. “I’m such an idiot. You spent all your savings getting here, didn’t you?”
I couldn’t look in his direction, mortified by my financial situation. I shrugged my shoulders and muttered a tiny, “Yes.”
“Shit. You have nothing left?”
“I’ve reserved a credit card for the flight home, but my cash is almost gone,” I explained. “It was short notice and the flights weren’t cheap.”
Stefan snorted. “Right, I’ll loan you some money. An indefinite loan.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll wait here for you.”
“Nonsense. You’ve come all this way. You should see more than this house. I insist.” He spoke crisply—his German accent becoming more prevalent with each passing hour—then he planted his hands on his hips and dispatched a
stern stare.
My head buzzed with contradictory emotions. He’d just told me to stop him if he got too pushy and here I was, agreeing to a debt. I suspected he would be honor bound to ignore it, let it drift away unfulfilled, but it didn’t alter the issue that I had arrived in Germany with little forward planning and needed his help. “Thanks. Just a loan, though.”
Half an hour later, we set off in his father’s Mercedes, and he dropped me off in the middle of Wolfratshausen with my purse reloaded with notes. As I opened the car door, he squeezed my thigh and landed a brisk kiss on my parted lips. I immediately ached for him, wishing he didn’t have to leave.
“Later,” he said as if he’d promised me something.
He’d dropped me near a pedestrian zone. I wandered the streets, peering in the shop windows and taking in the ambience. The first thing that struck me was the architecture—square buildings with steep terracotta roofs and walls painted in a variety of pastel colors. Nothing dark, no harsh brickwork. The pedestrian zone had wide streets, cobbled in places, with cafés occupying the pavements with their outside seating. Very unlike the narrow roads of Cambridge with hidden passages running between the colleges.
Armed with my phrase book, I managed to buy a coffee and a slice of cake. I opted to sit indoors since the air lacked warmth, reminding me that it was spring, not summer. Yet, the town had a summery feel to it with flowerpots and hanging baskets all ready to burst into bloom. I envied the cleanliness, the lack of bustling students and tourists. Small-town life had passed me by. Other than Cambridge, I’d lived in suburban villages, joined to the city via ribbon developments along key roads, nothing rural or quaint about the surroundings.
Germany, or Bavaria, as Stefan pointedly reminded me, had its own vibe. I listened to the native tongue spoken about me and it was softer than I’d imagined. No harsh guttural sounds that I’d associated with the language. To my amazement, I witnessed a handful of people wearing what amounted to costumes—knee-length leather breeches on the men and aprons on the women. I smiled, trying not to mock the quirkiness. I could see them proudly worn by the townsfolk, who greeted each other with handshakes. Who was I to criticize when my own national pride was seemingly lacking?