by Arthur Kay |
A PERVERSE THOUGHT flashed through her hot mind as she felt Shtetl's hot tongue working against her own. Fucking both men at the same time. Fucking one while sucking off the other. Oh, yes, that would be especially vunderbar, to feel Otto's oversized head in her hot, sucking mouth while, simultaneously, feeling the hugeness of the Colonel's baseball bat deep within her vagina. Oh, yes, and to feel them both spurt in unison, Otto in her mouth, the Colonel in her pussy. The thought of it, the imaginings of it, the heat of the idea was making her lose reality. She now kissed Shtetl for real, way beyond the play-act stage. A slut, she knew, had been born. A slut her beloved Hans, wherever he was, wouldn't know, recognize, or even like any more. Her Hans, she knew, was lost to her forever, one way or the other, gone, poof, no more. Whatever they had, and however good it had seemed, was now only a dim memory of a life she cared less and less about with each passing hour. Otto spoke from his chair. She broke the kiss and looked in his direction. Otto's sperm was all over the carpet in front of his feet, the many white globules puddling up on the dark blue nap's surface. Otto's face looked red. "That was absolutely amazing, my dear Greta. You've outdone yourself and made me very happy in the bargain. Now, what say we have something to eat and drink, you two hot lovers, and later we can resume our little game." They both said yes in unison. * * * * * * GRETA had her wish fulfilled that night. They both fucked her at the same time and both came, almost together, the SS-Oberführer beating the Colonel to the punch by mere seconds. Greta had come so many times it was impossible to keep track of. And the Colonel had proved a good lover, a good fuck a man who knew how to use his large specimen to the woman's advantage. He was slower in his love making than Otto, slower even than Hans. This man took his time, the world be damned. Oh, yes, she had enjoy Colonel Shtetl. Prior to this, there had been only one event that had made her feel quite ill. Wretchedly ill, as a matter of fact. The men had consumed more than a few beers with dinner and when they were all three in the bedroom, again naked, Otto had announced he was going to introduce a new game into the equation. He ordered Greta to get on her knees in front of them both. She complied, not knowing what to expect. "Now, Greta, you are going to get a new treat. I have to piss, as I'm sure the Colonel does. Your mouth, my sweet, is going to serve as our human urinal!" He laughed. Shtetl did, too. Greta felt immediately sick. She wanted to protest, to say something, but nothing came out of her mouth. Otto swayed a bit and said, "Open wide, liebschen, and take some sweet pissy piss!" He sounded slightly drunk. Shtetl said, "Ooh, I have to go real bad! May I go first, mein Commandant?" Otto waved a hand at Greta as if saying, be my guest, old chum. Shtetl took a step toward Greta and offered his totally flaccid penis to her face. Knowing she was trapped, she leaned in and took his soft penis into her mouth. And merely waited. Then Otto said, "And DON'T SPILL A DROP, GRETA! SWALLOW, SWALLOW, SWALLOW, IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOUR LITTLE PISS MOUTH!" A moment later, Shtetl let loose. In a deluge. His urine flooded her mouth so quickly, she almost failed to swallow. But she caught it just in time. She swallowed again and the scenario repeated itself. Then again and again. And some more. He was pissing like a race horse. Greta felt as if she had swallowed at least a large glassful. Finally, he stopped and just let his dick soak in the mouth. He left it there a moment before quickly pulling it out. For the first time, Greta could now taste the man's piss. It tasted awful, truly pissy like, but it was bearable. She knew it wouldn't kill her. Otto next stepped up to the plate. As she swallowed his ugly tasting urine, as copious as shtetl's had been, he kept calling her his little piss mouth, to the great glee of the Colonel. The only kindness Otto had sent her way was allowing her some wine to wash the piss down. It had helped immensely. The wine taste had quickly replaced the piss taste. They had then proceeded to fuck her. Later, after Shtetl had gone home, Greta was told by Otto that this was to be a once a week affair with his Colonel and, if Otto chose, other senior officers he deemed worthy of his special reward. His officer roster, Greta knew, consisted of twelve men, from aged twenty-two through aged fifty-five. Resigned to it all, as resigned to something as a person can get, Greta knew she would fuck and suck them to lascivious perfection, pleasing Otto along the way. While, she also knew, pleasing herself as well. Her life now consisted of sex, shopping, sex, getting her hair and nails done. sex, buying a new dress, sex, and more sex. She was known to all the men as SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's wife, a slut wife to be sure, but they all treated her with great respect. That this respect was from fear of her powerful "husband" didn't matter to her. She had survived. And, Otto's use of the word "officer" had put her mind at rest when it came to the 160 barrack's boys. There would be no barrack's boys for her. She would fuck and suck quite a few of Otto's officers, for sure, but she would not end up as Anna had, in a nut house and staring into space all day, too out of it to even know her own name. Greta was grateful to Otto for something else. He had kept the kinky stuff, the piss swallowing, the ass licking, from the officers. He resereved that for himself and Colonel Shtetl. The officers were limited to straight sucking and fucking, with even anal sex denied them. She was now, as SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp had so clearly told her, his sex slave, his whore, his slut, his piss mouth, and a property of the Third Reich. His bidding was all she needed to live for. There would be no more articles written by a Jew loving traitor, now or ever again. Sex slaves, he told her in no uncertain terms, had no time for such nonsense. She had agreed quickly, which had pleased him. * * * * * * A YEAR HAD PASSED and, during that time, Greta had serviced nine of the SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's officers. And, to satisfy Otto's seemingly endless search for hotter and hotter scenarios, had sucked and fucked all nine of them, one after another, on more than one occasion. With Otto watching her perform with each man as he took his turn. She was only thankful that those events were somewhat infrequent as she usually felt so totally tired and drained, it took all her energy just to speak, let alone walk. She now had, in one sense, a gallery of German men, some handsome, some not, who made her come and come quite often. However, none of the officers made her come better than Shtetl with his large penis. The only man capable of surpassing the Colonel was Otto himself. No one could compete with that over-sized cock head that she could feel outlined in the pit of her vagina. On a scale of one to ten, ten being best, the officers ranged from a three to a seven, Shtetl rated a solid nine, while her Otto was somewhere around eighty four. And sometimes it felt even higher. The officers gave her the sky, Shtetl, the moon, but Otto gave her the stars and the all of the heavens. It was now Thursday, December 25th, 1944. Christmas Day in Berlin as elsewhere in the world. Otto had phoned to alert her to a little Christmas "gift" he was bringing home for her, a new gift, one she had not seen before, one SS-Scharführer Emil Vürden, aged twenty-nine, married with four children. Highly decorated in combat. 6' 2" tall, 190 lbs, blonde hair and blue eyes. Facts she had gleaned from peeking at his personnel records. He sounded to her like the stereotypical German male. And, somehow, she knew he would be handsome and dashing. And well hung in the penis department. Greta now sat in their living room, waiting. The anticipation flowing over her. The front doorbell rang. Had Otto misplaced his keys again? She headed toward the door and opened it wide when she reached it. A regular army soldier stood there at rigid attention, a large satchel attache gripped firmly between both hands. "Frau Von Yurt?" He looked as stiff as a statue. "Yes, how may I help you?" She felt a tremor of worry flit through her mind. He opened the satchel case and pulled out a thick manila envelope and offered it to her. "I have been instructed to hand this to you, Frau Von Yurt and await here for further instruction from you." As she took the envelope, he raised his heels and clicked them together. "I'll be right here, Frau Von Yurt, when you need me." She thanked him and closed the door. With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope. A quick glance told her it contained a large, fat envelope and three letters, one unfolded, the other two folded in thirds. It looked to her as if the unfolded letter was to be looked at first, so she removed it and read. Her fears had been realized. She knew this without even reading the letter. It had been typed on the SS-Oberführer Otto Stemp's personal stationery and it read: My liebschen Greta, my PM, if you are reading this it means that I am no longer among the living. I wish I could say now that I loved you, my liebschen, but I have never in my life felt that foolish emotion. However, please believe me from the depths of my soul, when I say I have grown beyond fond of you. That, my little dumpling, is as close to love as I can attain without feeling foolish . . . |