Paths Straight and Twisted Pt. 05
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Each part of this story has quite distinctive erotic characteristics. While the chapters can be read and, hopefully, enjoyed in isolation, they are meant to be part of an evolving and complex whole. I hope you will take the time to read them as intended.
I await, as always with thanks, your comments and evaluation.
With Regards, Benultimo.
Ending my relationship with Inge and with it the hopes I had nurtured for our shared future, left me in turmoil. While I, at first, self-righteously felt hurt and justified in my reaction to Inge’s behaviour, it was quickly followed by feelings of guilt. Had I lured Inge to Australia only to desert her for, perhaps, unjustifiable reasons. What added to my guilt feelings was a morally suspect sense of relief that it was over.
I had known from the beginning, I suppose, that my desire for her was not matched by hers. Inge had never rejected my infatuation outright. For her, my love was no more than a free, give-away sample of something she did not really want but could possibly buy. There was really nothing unusual about her attitude. With patience, it was distinctly possible that, if not her love, I could have won her acceptance.
However, I would always have known that for her, I was a less than desired choice. I was neither strong enough in my love for her, nor sufficiently self-confident to live with this knowledge. Ending it with Inge, therefore, brought both pain and relief in equal measure.
And there just happened to be a woman waiting in the wings which, as a lover, always had unequivocally wanted me. I was reluctant to admit that having this still on my mind, may also have influenced me in ending it with Inge.
I had not seen Gertrud or Ingeborg for months. However, Walter, who met Ingeborg often, kept them informed about Inge and me. When the girls heard about our break-up, Ingeborg quickly got in touch and invited me to see them.
I was welcomed as if I had just come back from a lengthy journey. Neither Ingeborg nor Gertrud asked any questions about what had occurred. Just like Gertrud’s engagement, or her Christmas holiday with Nils, my ‘interlude’ with Inge was not mentioned. I told them about the night-school I had started, the three subjects I was doing, how hard I would have to work. I also described the attractions of my new accommodation.
Gertrud with a barely noticeable wink said she was sorry to hear that I had left the rooming-house, which was – “so close and convenient.” She smiled and refused to blush. It was an opening I could not ignore. So, I praised my bungalow’s privacy, the garden, shower and kitchen. I concluded my spiel by telling Gertrud – suppressing a wink – that like my previous accommodation it was not far from here: – “Only two tram stops, door-to-door!”
Ingeborg laughed: –
“You could not have planned it better. Congratulations.”
On the sofa, Gertrud had moved closer. So, looking at her to make sure it was meant for her alone, I asked: –
“Would you like to visit me? … Come for dinner tomorrow night?”
Smiling broadly, she answered: –
“I love to come! I am most curious about your bungalow. … Is it as cosy as your old room was?”
Gertrud did not blush as she put her hand high up on my thigh. I assumed that Gertrud was still engaged. Her reaction clearly meant that she wished to carry on her illicit affair with me as before.
For me, it was different. I was now free, continuing a sexual relationship with a young woman who had many other attractive qualities besides her sexual allure. Our coming together had started, we both agreed, as a temporary, exclusively sexual fling. And I had tried to ignore all other feelings that naturally developed as we got to know each other intimately as lovers.
Now I could no longer deny that my interest in Gertrud went beyond her sexual attraction. Whether she also sensed that this was now a new beginning, I don’t know. In the days, weeks and years that followed and we were together, I have never asked.
Next evening, I picked Gertrud up for the promised dinner. On the way out, in the dark entrance corridor of their house, she stopped and pulled me into her arms. Leaning against the wall we sunk into a long, telling kiss and all the awkwardness and uncertainty of our new beginning was overcome. Later we walked hand in hand into my, for her, new abode.
Throughout the early part of the evening, we could not keep our hands off each other. While we looked out at the garden through my window, my hands closed over Gertrud’s breasts. Her head sunk onto my shoulder to offer also her lips. In my small kitchenette, while preparing dinner, we regularly found the opportunity to touch. It was not a touching by either me or her that needed to be explained or excused. We simply needed to physically connect, feel each other, be certain again of the other’s presence and response.
We had a leisurely meal. I talked for the first time at length about my plans and what I hoped to achieve. Being totally at ease, bakırköy escort we took it for granted that we would spend the night together. After dinner, Gertrud and I settled down on the bed. It was the only place to sit. Being short of money and uncertain what Inge might have wanted, I had delayed fully furnishing my bungalow.
Gertrud asked if I wanted her to undress. Her saucy grin said it all; she remembered how much I liked to watch her strip. The prospect clearly excited her anew. I pointed out to her that only boringly married couples hurried so quickly into bed. As a seductress, she should make me wait, make me beg as she revealed her charms, piece by covering piece.
This made her laugh, and she decided on some serious kissing. Gertrud’s kisses were no longer first responsive, then becoming hungry, as I seemed to remember. They were now so knowing from the beginning;, teasingly and suggestively naughty about what she wanted, suggestive of what was to come. Pulling out of one of those kisses, she giggled and whispered: –
“You know, I hated kissing. What has gone wrong with me? Why do I love it now?”
Gertrud, as was in her nature, had come to ‘dinner’ properly dressed. This hindered us, of course, in our petting. When I started to move my hand up under her skirt, Gertrud became, to my surprise, uneasy. She pleaded: – “Let me get undressed, please.”. When I refused and my hand moved up to finger her pussy, I found her panties tellingly moist.
Gertrud dug her head into my shoulder and giggled in embarrassment: –
“Now, you think I am terrible. But, thinking about tonight all day, I was getting all het-up and wet!”
Her confessions hurried her into a wildly promiscuous kiss. As Gertrud seemed to have known all day, it was going to become quite a night!
By joint agreement carried over from our past, it started with Gertrud’s undressing. She temptingly discarded, piece by piece, shoes, stockings, girdle, blouse and bra, showing off more and more of her lovely body. Gertrud stripped and teased me, as always, from the bottom up. Taking her time, she flashed her pubes and shapely ass quite shamelessly, only to finish by hiding her sexy tits behind crossed arms and cupping hands.
I asked her if she had thought all day about so sexily stripping for me. Was it one of the things that made her wet? She giggled: –
– “Yes. Shocking, isn’t it? I’ve become an exhibitionist as well as a sex-addict.”
Once we were in bed, my mind was set on absolutely ravishing her. We were going to draw, tonight, the absolute greatest pleasure out of our so unexpected reunion.
Gertrud was, as she had so provocatively announced, wet with desire, eager to fuck. My cock, already excited to bursting, ached to thrust into Gertrud’s hot-ready cunt. But I wanted much more than a quick relief. I wanted Gertrud, especially on this night, to savour with me every extra minute of our lovemaking, every new welling-up of lust. Most of all, I wanted to hear her moan and cry for more.
We kissed, exploring each other’s lips, and mouth, and throat, and neck. Gertrud’s body shivered under my searching hands and fingers, signalling a barely held back impatience. I started kissing Gertrud; slowly at first, from neck and shoulder down to the firm globes of her breast, switching my licks and bites from one perky nipple to the next and back again. I covered her in excitement heaving stomach with kisses, swirled my tongue in her navel, and moved my mouth closer and closer onto and into her bush.
Gertrud had not forgotten anything. She knew what I would seek and find. Her groin lifted in anticipation and pressed her fleshy mound onto my mouth. After a few teasing little bites, which made her buck, I closed my lips over Gertrud’s already excitedly expecting clit. When my tongue began its talking, she answered with a drawn-out whimpering of Yes’s, while she pressed my head into her shivering groin.
But I freed myself and move up to her mouth. Gertrud kissed me as if searching for a taste, before whispering hoarsely: –
“If you don’t want to eat-me-up properly, you’ll have to fuck me. You are driving me crazy. Please, Fred! … It’s been too long a wait!”
I pointed her to the condoms on the bedside table: – “Have you already forgotten?”
She had not and hurried to tear it free, but when she saw what awaited her ministration, she changed her mind. A greedy, remembering and still knowing mouth took possession of my rampant cock for a hungry suck and bite. It took, therefore, quite some time until my now gleaming hardness was dressed to her satisfaction. She looked up at me with a smug smile. I told her she was a very naughty girl begging to be punished.
To do so was deliciously rewarding. When Gertrud stretched out, I put her into a tight embrace, sought her mouth and tongue for a deep kiss. My hard erection pressed against her crotch, but I would not, and she could not reach down to guide it in. I challenged her: –
“Does your pussy now beşiktaş escort want this cock? Move your hips, find it? Find what you want!”
Almost frantically, Gertrud worked her hips and groin seeking my cock. I reached down, gripped one of her buttocks, and pushed her against my erection. Her pussy’s well-licked lips opened to swallow my cock. As it slid into her cunt’s pulsating, hot embrace, Gertrud gasped a triumphant “YES” into my mouth. My hand on her ass held her still, did not allow her to move while my cock enjoyed her hot-gripping, tightness. I cradled Gertrud’s pleasure-tortured face; told her that I did not want us to fuck yet. I wanted her hot pussy: –
“Do you want to give me your pussy?”
She cried out as I withdrew my cock and entered her quickly with one finger, then two, relishing the sucking grip and heat of her cunt as I curled and moved my fingers. With my tongue teasing her ear, I whispered the question: –
“Do you really want to give me your pussy? The way I took it then on the table? Remember? How I ate your pussy all up? Is this what you want?”
“Oh, God. Yes! Yes, Fred! But I’ll come in your mouth! I’m close already. … God, how I’m going to come!”
Although I paused a few times in my feasting on her luscious cunt and clit while two of my fingers were feeling her as deep as they could reach, Gertrud’s coming could not be stopped. She was well into a first twisting cuming when I lifted her legs onto my shoulder to raise her ass. As my rod rammed full length into her, Gertrud’s whole body began to shake under wave after crashing wave of an irrepressible orgasm. I still held back, trying to fuck her slow and long. She cried out with every penetrating thrust. Her whole body shivered as I made her wait, again and again, for the next one. And each triggered a new orgiastic convulsion, made her fingers tear at the sheet and brought another scream of “YES!” Gertrud was still twisting and arching in my arms when I came with a roar, and we collapsed into each other.
After a while, still clinging together, Gertrud’s body started to shake with a peal of laughter she could no longer hold back. Responding to my questioning look, she said: –
“I’m just so happy! I have discovered I like sex. God, I love it! … Cuming like that, again and again!”
And with another burst of laughter, she hugged me, as if she never wanted to let go.
In contradiction to the saying that after sex, the animal is sad, I have never been so afflicted. Neither have I ever wanted to turn away and sleep, sink into an embarrassed silence, or hurry for the nearest exit. I have always wanted to gratefully confirm that good sex with a woman is such a precious gift. Gertrud and I now found a level of affection in being together. It soothed and warmed our senses, and brought the sexual high of before to a perfect conclusion.
It was the perfect time to talk about things we had been too shy to ask about before. There was so much we did not know about each other. Now Gertrud’s was ready to talk, she trusted me to know not only what she was now, here in my bed, but what she had been before.
She told me she had been a rather bossy and stroppy child. The eldest of four children, she grew up in a small provincial town in Swabia. Like I, Gertrud was a war-time child. Her father had been an SS non-commissioned officer. Imprisoned at the war’s end, he had not returned to his family until 1948.
On his return, Gertrud was thirteen and demonstratively unwilling to accept her father’s parental authority. It became a conflict-ridden relationship for her, not helped by her mother’s difficulty in adjusting to an unfamiliar marital situation. As a professional soldier’s wife, her husband had been for the first twelve years of their marriage only a presence while on leave, and totally absent for the three post-war years. She found herself, with four children, married to a practical stranger. For her and the children, he was more of a disturbing threat than a loving presence.
At fourteen, just before Gertrud left school, she fell victim to an ugly sexual assault. On a bicycle tour with friends, on a steep, downhill stretch of road, she lost control, and her body smashed against a mile-stone. She ruptured her spleen and was taken to the hospital in the nearest town.
On her discharge, her father asked a relative who had a car to collect Gertrud and bring her home. At the end of the trip, in a side lane, a hundred metre from her home, this ?uncle’ made a determined attempt to digitally rape her. He tore off her bra and forced his tongue into her mouth. Somehow, Gertrud managed to get out of his clutches and his car. In a dishevelled and traumatised state, she limped to her parents’ house.
As the rapist was a relative, her parents took no action. The perpetrator was unpunished, but the shame and disgust of what he had done settled on her.
As most of us did then, Gertrud left school at fourteen. She started a commercial apprenticeship in one of beylikdüzü escort the town’s firms. She disliked boys, especially for the rude interest they had for her breasts, their persistent attempts to grope. For Gertrud, this was a sensitive matter. I did not learn about this until much later, but may as well tell it now.
As was usual for healthy youngsters in Germany, Gertrud had joined the local athletic club for gymnastics. She was an early developer and at thirteen had grown fully formed breasts. A combination of post-war scarcity and parental indifference forced her to attend the gymnastic exercises without a proper supporting bra. The club’s singlets rather highlighted what Gertrud wanted to hide. With the usual cruelty of children, her still flat-chested and, probably, jealous fellow gymnasts called her ‘Floppy-Tits’.
Gertrud had, from then on, a strained relationship with her beautiful breasts. For me, her peculiar way of undressing when watched, became an endearing part of her complex personality.
As most of us did then, Gertrud left school at fourteen. She started a commercial apprenticeship in one of the town’s firms. At seventeen, on completing her apprenticeship in her home-town, Gertrud left for London to further her education. Throughout her years in London, her contact with young males was limited. All of her friendships were with foreign girls like her. They met in the evening-classes where Gertrud’s studied for her English and business qualifications.
During those four years, she returned home only twice for a brief holiday. She successfully completed her qualifications and returned to Germany, now a well-qualified young woman of twenty-one. She secured a well-paid job in an export firm, responsible for handling its English correspondence.
She was an attractive young woman. At work, she naturally attracted the attention of male work-colleagues, some of them married. Gertrud refused to become involved. Her distrust, even a dislike of men, sat deep. Rejecting their advances had become for her an almost automatic response.
Working in Stuttgart, she lived with an aunt of her father. Widowed, her husband had left her with a large house and financially well provided for. She was a domineering woman who fancied herself as the ruling matriarch of her extended family. She had no children of her own. The aunt’s favourite weapon was the lure of who would be her heir. Gertrud, who lived with her for three years, seemed to have become the favoured one.
Anyway, Gertrud was well into marriageable age. So, her aunt decided that a suitable husband had to be found for her. One of her acquaintances had a son. In his early thirties, he was an accountant with a well-paid job, still living with his widowed mother. Regarding womanising, he had an unblemished record. Gertrud’s aunt decided he would be the ideal husband for Gertrud.
When Gertrud came to this part of the story, she hesitated to continue. I had given her one of my shirts to put on, made us coffee, and we sat companionably together in bed while she continued her story. She shook her head and said: –
“Look, I can’t explain it. I don’t know why I allowed myself to be pressured into this relationship. I never even liked the man. I didn’t like his company, didn’t want him to kiss me. Every time he touched my breast, I wanted to hit him. But we were going steady. He proposed, and I said Yes! God, was I stupid!”
Gertrud snuggled up closer, seeking our reassuring warmth before continuing with her story.
Being engaged, her fiance treated her like one of his possessions. He bought a flat without asking her where she wanted to live: It had to be near his mother! He furnished it and fitted it out without consulting her or trying to find out her taste.
For their first night of proper sex – they had been engaged for months, and a wedding date had been tentatively set – he took her to his new flat. Next morning, he saw the blood smear on his newly bought bed linen. He got angry, called her filthy; abused her for sleeping with him and not telling that she had her period. Gertrud did not admit that she had been a virgin: –
“Not that I especially valued my virginity, but the fool did not deserve to know that he was the first!”
The day after she wrote to the Australian consulate to enquire about migrating to Australia; she applied, was accepted, and given a departure date off Bremerhaven. Only a fortnight before leaving, she told her fiancé and her match-making auntie that she would not marry somebody like him. She left both of them in a state of shock.
As it was Gertrud’s story-time, I half-expected her to tell me about her present engagement to Nils. But she did not mention him. I took this to mean that Nils was not for her, part of something past. However, for Gertrud, Nils seemed not part of her presence either. Tonight was all about Gertrud’s delight in our illicit affair.
We had been sitting up while she talked, and I listened. Gertrud had more to say. For this, she pushed me down on the bed to press herself sinuously against me. What she started to whisper into my ear was a confession free of guilt or regret. Her muffled voice, fighting at times for breath and pausing, found words that the Gertrud of the past would never have allowed herself to say: –
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