by Arthur Kay |
IN THE BEDROOM, SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp, was on the phone. He spoke quickly, his authority on full display. "Colonel Shtetl, Stemp here. Listen carefully as I do not wish to have to repeat myself. Understood?" It was. "Now, Shtetl, I want you to prepare orders for one SS-Gestapo Lieutenant Hans Von Yurt for redeployment to the Russian front. He is to leave within the next hour. He is to be told nothing of my involvement in the matter. Understood?" It was. "Good. Then, Shtetl, I want you, personally, to go to his apartment and tell his landlord that the Von Yurt's are moving out, permanently. Give them no other information. Then Shtetl, I want you, personally, to enter the Von Yurt's apartment and pack up everything belonging to Frau Von Yurt. Take nothing of her husband's. Understood?" It was. Colonel Shtetl had been through this many times before. His superior was taking a wife, quite literally. And the wife in question, Shtetl well knew, was a knockout. Shtetl, himself, had more than once devoured the woman's stunning figure with his eyes. He knew exactly what to do to please the Oberführer, who now and then shared his conquests wiith him. Shtetl now daydreamed about the lovely and luscious Frau Greta Von Yurt. " . . . and bring all of her belongings, personally, to my penthouse quarters. Use the service entrance so as not to disturb us, er, me. Understood, Shtetl?" It was. Holy shit, thought Shtetl, he's got the wench there with him now! I'll bet she's already naked. Oooh! Has he put his big-headed cock into her mouth yet? Has he fucked her? His eyes closed as he attempted to picture, once more, Frau Greta Von Yurt in the buff. His cock stirred, pushing against its confining fabric. Reflexively, he reached a hand down and squeezed the bump it had created. He knew mastubation was in the wind for him this very night. With Frau Greta Von Yurt supplying the lewd images. " . . . disturbed for the rest of the evening, unless it's news of an allied surrender or of Eisenhower's untimely death. Understood, Shtetl?" It was. * * * * * * WHEN SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp re-entered the living room, Greta could see he had changed his clothing. He now wore light gray pants, a dark gray smoking jacket and a pale yellow ascot at his throat. Embroidered on the breast pocket were the familiar twin SS lightning bolts, again in yellow. And, this time, he had his feet covered in shiny, black leather slippers. The word dashing flit shamelessly across her mind, making her flinch. * * * * * * AFTER DINNER, he took her into his bedroom. He ordered her to strip once more as he proceeded to do the same. Before long, they were both naked and standing no more than two feet apart. This time, she noticed, he had a full erection, unlike before. It stood out beneath his paunch, looking unfamiliar and familiar to her at the same time, the large head wobbling in space as if seeking a landing spot. The lighting in the bedroom came from one single lamp. This made her feel much more comfortable than she had felt in the living room with it's harsh glaring lights seemingly everywhere. Strangely, this thought made her blush. Girlishly, she hoped the low lighting hid this fact from him. As if it could now matter in the least. "Now, mein liebschen, come to me." She obeyed and soon found herself in his strong, hairy arms. His lips found hers and their tongues dueled sloppily. His large hands roamed her body. She could feel his large paunch pressing into her stomach as well as the head of his monstrous penis. He kept kissing her lips. And kissing her lips. Without let up. This went on for a very long time, the two of them just standing there, a mere few feet from the large king-size bed. Hans popped into her head. He had usually kissed her just a few times before taking further action. At times, this remission on his part had left her mildly frustrated. But while her loving Hans was nowhere near the handsome, virile and dashing, faceless man of her idle girlish fantasies, he loved her. That made up for it quite a lot. It hadn't really bothered her, not deep down, but now she fleetingly wondered if that wasn't because she never had anything to compare it to. Feeling unfair to Hans, she pushed further thoughts of him out of her mind. She needed all her wits to play-act. SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had left her lips and was now planting hot, wet, sloppy kisses all over her body. Her neck was wet as well as her breasts. Once again, she felt the familiar wetness make itself known between her legs. His type of foreplay was getting to her, touching something deep within her, making her tremble in want of him. She had a choice. Fight the feelings that threatened to swamp her or give in to them. Fighting could lead to his displeasure of her. Giving in, she knew, would only lead to pleasure for them both. She decided to surrender, to survive, to escape Anna's fate. Thus it was that she reacted very positively to all his actions. When he kissed her now, she kissed back, with passion, with abandonment. When he rubbed his hands over her, she allowed herself to moan and the moaning itself had a strange, wonderful effect on her. It made her feel less like a prisoner and more like his equal somehow. And less guilty. Then she surprised even herself. She reached down and lovingly squeezed his full-blown erection. She squeezed it again and slowly stroked the shaft back and forth. I giving, she mused, my first handjob to an SS-Oberführer! SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's reaction to this suddenly brand new Greta was immediate. His kisses took on a new fire, as if lit by a brand new match. His gropings were more sensual, more human like now. And more tender than before. He was on fire and he let himself burn. He fingered her vagina tenderly, as a lover, a husband might do. He revelled in her even as he devoured her flesh piece by piece, area by area. "Liebschen, mein liebschen." he breathed hotly into her ear. And there was no mistaking her involvement in it all. He had made her orgasm twice with his large fingers and she knew he knew it. She hadn't even tried to disguise the fact from him. She had given in to her desires completely. His manipulations, his kisses, had made her truly hot, on fire, burning alive, and now she needed him, wanted him if truth be told, to douse the flames with his large, over-sized penis head. The large, over-sized penis head she now cradled in her hand and lovingly caressed. "Otto, my Otto, if you don't take me this very instant I shall die." He knew he had reached her, reached the very depths of her carnal soul. She may have, as many others had done before, acted a part, but he knew no one could act this well, not even Burnhardt. And he desired her, too. Not just in the way he always wanted them, but in a different way. A new way that was strange to him. He wanted her as any husband would on his first honeymoon night. She was so lovely, he thought, this Frau Greta Von Yurt. SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp felt like one lucky man. But, as much as he wanted to feel his large headed penis in her now yielding body, he didn't want to rush. To rush, he well knew, would have him shooting his seed soon after penetration. No, he wouldn't rush. Why should he? They had, unknown to her, an eternity before them. And, again unknown to her, her attempt at play-acting had backfired, for SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had no intention of ever letting her rejoin her precious Hans. Not tomorrow, not next week, not ever. She was now, for all intents and purposes, the new wife of SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp. His property and new toy. She just didn't know it yet. A small thought entered his mind. At some point in their relationship, he would, as he had before, start to tire of her, no matter how hot she seemed at any one given moment. He knew he would, as he had so many times before, have the need to spice up their waning marital bliss. To this end, he knew he could count on his aide-de-camp, Colonel Shtetl. As he had so many, many times before. He could trust Shtetl to be discrete. Shtetl knew the penalty for displeasuring him. And Shtetl had already, bless him, and on many an occasion, voiced a wanton desire toward the lovely Frau Von Yurt. Oh, yes, Shtetl would be more than eager to join him and Greta for a threesome in the king-size bed. And Stemp would get more than excited watching Shtetl's 9" penis enjoying Greta's mouth, ass, and vagina. The SS-Oberführer now felt the heat within him rise even higher. His erection was at full blossom. And was now ready for Greta. He picked her up bodily in his massive arms and deposited her on the bed. Her legs were spread, her pussy lips in plain view as if inviting him in, as if saying, I'm all yours, do what you will with me, but kiss me first. Although, as a general life-long rule, Stemp hated eating pussy, he knew he wanted to taste Greta's flowing juices. The idea pleased him, spurred him onward. He knelt between her highs and lowered his large head toward her unshaven bush. As his lips touched her vaginal lips, he heard her moan. She then grabbed his head in both hands and pushed it inward, toward her wet, hot and mysterious cavern. He proceeded to lick her for all he was worth, his fat tongue finding new things to do, new things to lick on. As his large tongue penetrated to its full extent and moved upwards and then down, Greta went wild. She gyrated her hips and squeezed his head until it hurt him. He didn't care. He was obsessed with the task at hand. He rolled his tongue around and around, leaving no point on the compass feeling neglected. Simultaneously, his tongue darted in and out, shallow fucking her, with a distinctive pressure on his topmost licking movements. To Greta Von Yurt, his tongue and lips felt slightly sandpapery, but with much less chafing. The friction his mouth was creating on the clitoris was excruciatingly pleasurable. It was driving her wild and unleashing one orgasm after another upon her. This was nothing like Hans would, or could do. Unlike Hans, she felt that Otto actually enjoyed eating her, relished doing it, in fact. This idea added to her pleasure. Added to the intensity of her orgasms, which now, were becoming unbearable. She had to have him inside her. And not tomorrow, mind you, but now. She found herself reaching for his large, muscular arms, urging his body upward and toward her, pulling him on top of her, and saying to him . . . |