THREE
By the time Sophia had said goodbye to Andreas (they never actually got to eat dinner) it was already half past eight. Time enough to have a bite to eat locally and take a taxi to the club. First, though, she needed to shower and dress. Out of the many outfits she had brought for the trip, she chose a hunter green mini dress with padded shoulders and split sleeves, and an all-over sequin and bead embellishment. A matching pair of four-inch heels completed the ensemble.
When she arrived at the Club Zeitgeist shortly after ten, Didi and his ‘new wife’ were waiting for her in the lobby. And what a new wife she was! Tall and slim, she was, as Cary Grant once put it, ‘big in all the right places’. Wearing a long tight-fitting emerald green off-the-shoulder dress, she looked as if she had just stepped off the runway. Barely able to suppress a whistle of lustful approval, Sophia exchanged the first of what she hoped would be many embraces.
When she learned that her name was Romy, Sophia couldn’t help recalling Romy Schneider getting up close and personal with Marlon Brando in Last Tango in Paris. Thoughts of dancing the night away with this blonde goddess consumed Sophia, with the tango giving way to something slower and much more intimate. Didi, dressed in open-neck white shirt and navy blue slacks, led the way to their table, which was situated right in front of the stage. The man obviously had connections, Sophia thought.
They ordered drinks and talked about the time Romy had spent in England as an exchange student a few years back at a girls’ school in Devon. Her English was the equal of Didi’s – her accent less pronounced and her use of idioms extensive, if a little eccentric at times. Her husband looked on with evident pride, and not a little excitement, as the two women conversed so easily, pleased that they were hitting it off so well. After a while, a sultry brunette wearing a long black sequined dress with deep slits and a plunging V-shaped neckline took the stage and started to sing in a husky mezzo voice.
‘You like the entertainment?’ asked Didi, in a break between numbers.
‘Very much,’ said Sophia, her mind racing at the possibilities that lay ahead in terms of post-entertainment activities.
‘Her family comes from Turkey,’ Didi said. ‘She is a much sought-after singer on the club scene. We are fortunate that she is singing here tonight.’
Having noticed how Didi and the woman had exchanged nods when she assumed her position at the microphone, Sophia wondered whether something more than luck had brought her to this particular venue on this particular evening. Her suspicions were all but confirmed when the singer, Rania by name, joined Didi’s table. Up close, she was older than she had appeared on stage – nearer 40 than 30. When Sophia caught herself thinking this, she laughed to herself, given the fact that she was about to turn 34 herself. She had changed into more comfortable clothes – even though she had another set in an hour or so’s time – and was wearing an ivory coloured blouse and jeans.
Understandably, for someone who sang in German and Turkish, her English wasn’t anything to write home about, but she was gracious enough to keep conversing in English most of the time, occasionally stopping to ask Didi or Romy for a translation. Her place on stage had been taken by what Sophia took to be a glam rock group – Peter would have known the genre – who were pleasant enough to listen to and not ear-splittingly loud. Having only had a light dinner, Sophia was happy when Didi ordered some food to share: a mixture of local fare (sausages and sauerkraut) and foreign (samosas, spring rolls and Shanghainese xiao long bao). To wash this down, since no one was mad keen on champagne, he ordered a bottle of high-end Frascati.
After a while, Rania had to go back to her dressing room to get ready and Didi checked to see if Sophia was enjoying herself. Having reassured himself on this point, he asked to be excused, as he had seen some old friends earlier and wanted to talk with them while everyone was more or less sober. Sophia was pleased with the chance to get to know a bit more about the Teutonic goddess and she was soon telling her how she met Didi. It was a couple of years ago, when he was going through his divorce. She happened to be working for an agency at a trade fair and had actually been hoping to meet a man from overseas. Typically, Didi didn’t bother with these kind of events – sending staff to attend – but on this occasion, owing to the divorce proceedings, which had been dragging on and had been quite messy, he had decided to go, just to give himself a break from the litigation circus.
When Sophia asked if it had been love at first sight, Romy laughed and said that for the rest of the show she had still been looking around for ‘someone better’. It took her fully a month or so to realise that she was in love with this man who was old enough, as she put it, to be her ‘much older brother’. How old exactly she was, Sophia couldn’t be sure, but she estimated her to be in her mid to late 20s. Neither woman made a move on the other, although Sophia could feel a palpable sexual tension between them. She wondered whether Didi insisted on being present when things first began to develop. Many men, Sophia had learned, got as much of a kick as women did out of the build-up stage of a sexual encounter. Without that stage – be it seduction, be it mutual flirting – Sophia reckoned a fling was like a dinner without a first course. And the entrée was the part of a meal that Sophia typically liked best.
Didi returned just as Rania was starting her second set. This time she was wearing a mid-length dress with sensible straps. The colour – silver – was a brave choice, Sophia thought, not because Rania couldn’t carry it off, but because of her dark complexion. The more she looked at her, the more she realised what a killer body she had. At first, she had given her attention almost exclusively to her face, but now that she was showing more of her legs, she knew that she was looking at someone who worked out. For some reason, this surprised Sophia. It was then that she realised that she had been looking at her as more Turkish than German. Perhaps she wasn’t even a Muslim, Sophia thought, or a nominal Muslim in the way that she herself was a nominal Christian. Surely, they have nominal Muslims? They must also have a segment of the population who take a scientific approach and are unable to take seriously their ‘invisible friend’.
Sophia was brought back to the here and now by the applause that greeted the end of her set – applause she duly took part in after a brief hiatus. Looking around her, Sophia noticed that the room had filled appreciably, with people standing two to three deep at the bar that occupied the end of the room opposite the stage. Glancing at her phone, she saw the time was half past twelve. For the first time a curtain had been drawn across the stage and after a minute or so the lights began to dim. Dressed once more in her jeans, Rania slipped back into her seat between Romy and Didi, leaving Sophia on the other side of the table between the married couple.
The cabaret continued with acts of varying quality, including a Marlene Dietrich tribute artiste decked out in a black outfit and a silver top hat, whose efforts only made one yearn for the original in a von Stromberg film. At around one thirty, sensing that Sophia – not to mention his wife – were losing enthusiasm for the entertainment, Didi suggested they adjourn to their apartment on the Annastrasse. Rania made her excuses, leaving the others to hop into a taxi for the short ride to their destination.
The flat was in one of those old buildings that had survived the war more or less intact. The petitions of generations of residents meant that the old style cage door elevator remained in place. Although it would certainly have been a luxury in a 40-storey building, in an edifice with just six floors, its pedestrian pace was more than offset by the cachet it added to the ambience. To say that Sophia was excited as she made the ascent to the sixth floor would be something of an understatement. The fact that there had been no physical contact between herself and the married couple since introductions were made somehow added to the sense of anticipation she felt. Perhaps she had misread Didi’s intentions, after all. She felt certain that she would find out pretty soon.
Since none of them had drunk a lot, Didi opened a bottle of cognac, which he claimed to have been saving for a special occasion. Was that a signal, Sophia wondered? Something of an inter-generational divide was displayed by the way they each took their brandy, with Didi and Sophia taking it neat and Romy preferring it on the rocks. This gave Sophia an idea: perhaps she should start referring to – or at least treating – the young wife as Didi’s daughter. But then what role would she herself play? Maybe that of governess would be appropriate, she mused. There again, she thought, looking at the stunner’s long blonde hair, how about that of personal assistant / dresser / ‘undresser’?
Strike while the iron was hot had always been Sophia’s motto. She moved from where she had been sitting to join Romy on the sofa she had hitherto been occupying alone. There was room enough for her to sit at one end opposite Romy, but instead of that she sat next to her, and close to her. Glancing at Didi, she could see that he was following her progress intently. Romy crossed, uncrossed and recrossed her legs, scarcely in order to cover her modesty – since her long dress covered everything – but more as a sign of nerves…or pretended nerves. Had the German intuited that there was nothing more likely to stoke Sophia’s fires than a little display of the deer caught in the headlights on her behalf? She placed her palms primly on her knees and stared straight ahead into the night air.
‘We could almost be twins,’ Sophia said, as yet making no move, but speaking into her ear from almost no distance.
Romy remained silent. She might have been listening to the mother superior at a convent school, thought Sophia, a reflection which further inflamed her already simmering passions.
‘Same blonde hair, same green dress. I wonder what else we share in common.’
As she spoke, she moved in even closer to Romy and whispered in her ear, ‘I’m glad we’re not really sisters.’
She brought her hand to the German girl’s cheek and turned her face towards her. It was a very beautiful face, made more beautiful still by that fact that she as yet remained in character. Sophia felt so in control that everything started happening in slow-motion. She felt only one type of urgency, and that was the urgency not to hurry. She didn’t look at Didi, even though he was in her eyeline, but she knew that his eyes were focused on her every movement, his ears open for her every utterance. Romy’s wondrous face presented itself to Sophia: the high forehead, the grey-blue eyes, the full lips, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, the well-proportioned chin. Just now, Sophia’s focus was on the lips, which the girl had only recently repainted in a bright cerise. Sophia ran her finger along those lips, causing them to open slightly.
‘All the easier for you to kiss me with,’ thought Sophia, moving in on her target.
Romy kept her eyes open for only a millisecond, before the sensations overwhelmed her. Sophia was moving on several fronts at once: while her lips locked on the German’s mouth, her right hand found her neck, while her left hand made its way unerringly to her breast. Romy squirmed in her seat, while something not much more than a murmur escaped lips which were now mashed with her new lover’s. Sophia looked at Didi, whose hand had instinctively found its way inside his trousers – very probably, inside his pants. He returned her look with a look of pure lust on his face.
Sophia found the concealed zipper on Romy’s dress and got her to stand up and step out of the vestment, which had now become an encumbrance. She was wearing nothing but her off-white satin panties. If she wanted to, Sophia could have brought her off right there and then by fingering her beneath the barely protective fabric, and she did want to. But more than she wanted that, she wanted to keep things for now at the pace she had established – a pace which appeared to be working well for all three protagonists. So she motioned for Romy to resume her place on the sofa and returned to where she had left off.
Sophia broke the kiss and the fondling after a little while to ask Romy to undress her. She was interested to see how nervous the girl was, as the suspicion had begun to dawn on Sophia that this was Romy’s first time with another woman. Shaking hands and a reddening complexion betrayed the truth. Sophia thought of offering words of encouragement to the girl, as she fumbled with the zipper, or even of turning round to make the task easier, but being with a ‘virgin’ was turning her on, and she wanted to make the most of every minute up to and including the point when she would feel the girl climax – and hopefully gush – into her mouth.
When Romy eventually managed to get the dress off, Sophia’s arousal was catapulted to another level when the German actually averted her eyes when confronted by the English woman’s magnificent breasts. She was literally trembling in anticipation of her first lesbian encounter. Again, Sophia offered her no succour; she just sat there in all her glory silently inviting her to make the first move. At this point, Romy turned to look at her husband, perhaps in the hope that he would call the whole thing off. What she saw both shocked her and alerted her to the fact that aborting the evening was the last thing on his mind. His trousers and pants were round his ankles and he was working his cock hard in his hand. What is more, judging from the state of his eyes, which were rolled back into his head, he was on the cusp of coming. Feeling utterly forsaken, Romy turned back to Sophia and attempted to say something. She hadn’t decided what, but it would be along the lines of taking a bit of a break.
Sophia merely put her fingers to the girl’s lips and moved her hand to her flimsy knickers. Without any ceremony, she moved her fingers under the material and slid two of them into the German’s dripping cunt.
‘Fuck, you want me!’ Sophia said simply.
Romy attempted to extricate herself from the older woman’s hold, but her squirming only drove her in further. Despite herself, she moaned loudly and opened her mouth wide, as if inviting Sophia in. Sophia wasn’t one to pass up invitations of this nature, and, even as her fingers worked Romy’s pussy, her mouth locked onto the German girl’s and worked it hard. Inexperienced in the ways of Sapphic love she might be, but Romy was one hell of a kisser. She deftly manipulated the older woman’s tongue and locked it in a long embrace. Then she poked her tongue out and engaged Sophia’s in a fencing match alfresco, a manoeuvre which the older, more experienced woman filed away for future reference.
In spite of the allure of Romy’s firm, if somewhat modest, breasts, Sophia had decided the German girl needed to be broken in by a direct assault on her vagina. Stealing a glimpse at Didi, who was working his ample cock as if there was no tomorrow, Sophia reckoned she might be able to achieve a double whammy by bringing the husband and wife to climax at the same time. Judging by the state of both of them – Didi, in particular – time was very much of the essence, so Sophia removed her fingers from Sophia, yanked off her panties, threw her on her back on the sofa and, kneeling on the floor, drove her tongue into her soaking pussy.
The effect was immediate and extraordinary. Romy began bucking about like a mustang and growling like a dog. She was obviously speaking German, and Sophia reckoned it wouldn’t be the kind you heard in an office or at church. With her competitive juices running as freely as Romy’s vaginal variety, Sophia took a final look at Didi and saw that he was standing on the edge of the precipice and required only the faintest touch to send him tumbling over the edge. The only surprise with Romy was that she hadn’t already orgasmed. Not that that would overly tax Sophia.
‘I think an aural cue is in order,’ said Sophia to herself.
‘Okay, guys, now is the time to release all your pent-up tension.’
Sophia knew that Didi was starting to come, as his vocalisations became loud, disjointed and staccato. If she moved fast, she felt she would be able to synchronise their performances. While continuing to work on Romy’s luscious pussy, she drove a finger into her asshole.
‘Mission accomplished,’ was how Sophia reflected on her work, as Romy’s juices gushed forth into Sophia’s greedy mouth at the same time as an arc of silvery semen shot from her husband’s penis beyond the reach of his waiting hand onto the shag pile carpet.
FOUR
For Sophia, there were a few i’s to dot and t’s to cross before the party could move on to the next part of the night’s entertainment. First, she really wanted to work on Romy’s tits; then, she was rather hoping that Romy would return her the compliment and bring her off. She realised this might be expecting too much of a neophyte, but then in the sexual arena Sophia belonged very much to the all-things-are-possible school. All this would mean that Didi was kept out of the equation for a while longer, but from the evidence – which Didi was this very minute cleaning up – he wouldn’t be averse to watching a bit more girl-girl action before his time came. And Sophia had already made plans for that part of the evening…
Sophia’s planning was rendered somewhat redundant by the turn of events. Romy used her husband’s absence from the room to push Sophia roughly to the floor and climb on top of her.
‘The tits will have to wait,’ thought Sophia.
‘Well, hers at any rate,’ she quickly added, as the German beauty began to massage her storied pair.
By the time Didi re-entered the room with drinks and some neatly prepared fruit (Sophia had to hand it to the Germans – in England it would be a couple of packs of crisps and some cheese balls), his wife was cupping one breast with her hand, while the other was engulfed in her mouth. Didi thought for a moment of taking possession of the vacant pussy area with his own mouth, but quickly thought better of it, intuiting that the women had unfinished business to transact. So he was left to nibble on mango and cherries, while his wife of less than a year got to grips with something much more substantial.
Sophia was so impressed with Romy’s work that she started to doubt whether she was quite the greenhorn she presented herself as being. Her mouth had switched breasts, leaving her hand free to explore Sophia’s ass; which, it has to be said, it was doing with no little alacrity. After traversing the considerable contours of her butt cheeks, it had found its way into the narrow ravine and was fast approaching the dark cavern, which was at first glance inaccessible. Romy resolved the conundrum by offering the index finger of her hand to Sophia and urging her to provide it with the necessary lubrication. Sophia didn’t need a second invitation and the hand duly returned to her ass where the finger swiftly found a route into her back passage.
‘Fuck!’ Sophia gasped, as the finger probed deeper.
Sophia realised that she need play no part in guiding the German girl, since she was always one step ahead of her.
‘These Germans!’ Sophia had just about enough composure to think. ‘So damned efficient!’
Romy’s mouth left Sophia’s breast and hurried to her pussy. Using her free hand to part the labia, Romy’s tongue eschewed all preliminaries and dived into the Englishwoman’s hungry hole. Another expletive escaped Sophia’s mouth, as Didi’s wife sought out every nook and cranny, the finger in her ass applying subtle pressure against the membrane separating her erogenous zones. It usually took quite a lot these days to bring Sophia orally to climax, but she realised that she was about to experience the exception that proved the rule. She opened her eyes and could see that Didi was jerking off again. The thought came to her that if he ejaculated again he might not have it in him to come a third time, but she quickly dismissed the idea. After all, she had her own needs to focus on and surely he would be able to up his game when the time came to fuck a beautiful blonde – who was not his wife.
These thoughts had the not undesired effect of taking the edge off Sophia’s desire, but only momentarily. The next thing Sophia knew Romy had placed her finger on her clitoris and was tracing delicate circles over the ever-swelling hub. When her tongue followed suit, it was almost too much for the older woman, who dug her nails into the pile of the carpet in an attempt to delay what was quickly becoming the inevitable. Suddenly, finger exited ass and Sophia wondered if the moment had passed and she would be left unsatisfied. She need not have worried.
Flipping Sophia over, the German woman got her to raise her glorious ass in the air and prepared herself by taking a deep breath, as if she was about to dive for pearls – which after a manner she was. With stunning synchronicity, she drove two fingers into Sophia’s dripping cunt while her tongue arced into her anus.
‘No!’ said Sophia simply – not loudly but with unmistakable passion and desire.
Romy said something in German, but Didi – the only potential translator in the room – was away with the fairies and about to come into a double piece of folded kitchen towel. He was also muttering something, but it was certainly not in English – and probably untranslatable, anyway.
Sophia knew she had limited time left on this planet before she was launched into the ether. She decided to spend it calling Romy all the names under the sun for violating her and quite literally invading her space. She hadn’t got further than ‘cow’ and ‘bitch’ when she underwent an orgasm of such ferocity that she had to remain prone on the carpet for a full five minutes, while her hosts cleaned themselves up, put on robes and prepared themselves for extra time.
‘My God!’ thought Sophia. ‘I hope it doesn’t go to penalties. The Germans will crucify me!’
For the present, all Sophia could think about was resting. She knew Didi wanted her badly, but, as we have seen, she had formulated other plans and these revolved around watching Didi and his wife fucking each other. Who knows, thought Sophia, I might pick up a few tips. So when Sophia, who had taken a seat in an armchair, where she reckoned – dressed in the robe she had been given – she would be in a safer place in terms of being touched up or otherwise propositioned, received a visit from Didi, asking her if she would like to see their bedroom, she responded in the negative. Not in the mood for being mucked about or even for negotiation, she came straight out with her idea for the next stage in proceedings.
‘I would like to watch while you and Romy make love.’
It was just as well that Didi had his back to his wife, as it meant that she couldn’t see his face drop. He looked like the cocker spaniel who’d just had his ball confiscated. Romy, who’d already proved something of the dark horse, was, by contrast, buoyant at the prospect of serving her husband. Sophia, who was beginning to twig this mysterious woman, was sure that much of the attraction lay in having an audience, especially an audience who wanted to be in her husband’s place. All things considered, though, Sophia was more than happy to be a spectator.
Having been spurned by Sophia, Didi was all the more insistent in having the venue of his choice, and that venue was in their bedroom along the hallway. The party made their way there and Sophia settled down with her glass of spritzer and an apple and pomegranate fruit salad. Romy cast a provocative glance at Sophia as she undid the cord on her husband’s robe and eased the garment’s way to the floor. Didi’s penis – a tad above average perhaps, but nothing to write home about – sprang to attention. Sophia noticed that he was avoiding her gaze. She put this down to a number of factors: his unhappiness with her for rejecting him, his desire to punish her and, above all, his fear lest his wife would see that he would be thinking about their guest when he was fucking her. Sophia let an enigmatic smile crease her lips, which was picked up by Romy, who was secretly hoping that Sophia would be back in action sooner rather than later and did her best to communicate this. Sophia merely smiled back as if the vicar’s wife had complimented her on a new hat and made a mental note to show this minx who was boss.
Didi, desperate to take charge of something, lay on his back and motioned to his wife to do the needful in the preparatory department. At first, Romy, already divested of her robe, played the obedient wife, using both hands on his cock before bringing her mouth into play. But, already the tell-tale signs of rebellion were there, as she had positioned herself in such a way that her face was facing Sophia’s and it was clear to both women in the room that the slurps, the vocalisations and the exaggerated facial expressions were meant not for her husband but for the woman sipping the spritzer. Despite her best efforts, Sophia was getting turned on again by this strumpet.
‘New wife, indeed!’ she exclaimed under her breath. ‘Bah! More like a high class call-girl.’
Romy’s next move both confirmed everything she was thinking and took her arousal levels pretty much off the scale. She moved across the bed, whispering words to her husband as she did so – presumably words expressing her devotion and undying affection – and assumed a new position for the assault on his penis, with her ass high in the air and her legs apart, giving Sophia a stunning view of her pudenda. As if this wasn’t enough, the wanton hussy brought one hand to her posterior and carefully spread her pussy lips as wide apart as they would go, until they were almost wide enough to accommodate Eurostar.
Sophia thought of leaving the room on some pretext, such as going to the bathroom, but decided against. For one, she had only recently been, and then again she was determined to face off against this Teutonic tramp and prevail over her. In the meantime, oblivious to the subplot, Didi was getting close to climax, his tightly shut eyes giving away the fact – obvious to both women, anyway – that he was being fellated by one blonde while thinking of another. Both women had the same idea in mind. They would wait for Didi to come and then hold a contest to see which one could subjugate the other and, once conquered, lead her, as in ancient Rome, in a triumphal procession.
Not before time, Didi held up his side of the bargain by coming in his wife’s mouth. While he lay there drained on the bed, willing himself to one more effort, by which he would show Sophia why German sausage is the best in the world, Sophia walked languidly up to Romy and kissed her roughly on the lips, while grabbing a bunch of her golden tresses and pulling it until it hurt. Didi shuffled backwards towards the head of the bed to allow the women more space in which to fight. If anything was guaranteed to get his flagging cock rigid once more, it was the sight of Sophia dominating his wife and bringing her to a quick orgasm. He gave himself 15 minutes before he would be in tip-top shape to give the English woman the fuck of her life.
Rather than adopt a tit-for-tat approach, Romy had her eyes on the long-term prize. Inexperienced as she might be in lesbian love, she reckoned she had found Sophia’s Achilles heel – pride. When she was focused only on domination, she was likely to walk straight into a trap and could easily be taken down. Romy had already demonstrated this once, and she failed to see what had changed in their relative situations that would enable the older woman to come out on top this time. Even if Romy let her take the position of ‘top’ in the physical sense – which is what she did.
Sophia pinned the younger girl’s arms above her head and moved in on her breasts. Romy realised all she had to do was to hold out for a few minutes because then Sophia would grow tired and release her hold, and then Romy’s hands would be free to work their magic. Romy had to fight the very real temptation to give in to Sophia’s ministrations and let herself be brought to orgasm again, but her determination was stronger than her sexual needs right now. When Sophia released her hands, as she must do as she journeyed down to her beautiful pussy, Romy swivelled, flipped Sophia onto her back and pinned her down in a 69 position. Before Sophia had a chance to react, her tongue was plunging into the older woman’s receptive vulva, while her finger sought out her clitoris and worked it vigorously. Her spare hand reconnoitred the English woman’s fabulous ass, assessing the best way to gain access once more to her anus.
Like the French forces in the summer of 1940, Sophia had been completely taken off guard by Romy’s strategy. Her attempts to lick the German girl’s box were perfunctory, given the pounding she was receiving from above. After a while, she gave up the attempt altogether, recognising that she had been outsmarted and wanting only one thing – to come into the beautiful Fraulein’s mouth. Romy was not one for disappointing her guests. As soon as the white flag had been hoisted, she told Sophia to raise her ass and found that access to her back passage was far easier than she imagined it would be. She felt the muscles around Sophia’s anus clamp around her finger as it extended the warmest of welcomes to the invader.
With the three-pronged attack that she was facing, it was only a matter of time before Sophia capitulated. Didi had been so stunned by the turn of events that he had giving up his attempt to reach orgasm for the fourth time that night – no bad idea, if he still intended to give Sophia the fuck of her life. He did, though, have the consolation of a front-row seat as his wife brought the blonde to a crashing orgasm, complete with a colourful and extremely loud soundtrack. He recognised most of the English cuss words he knew in that outburst, along with one or two that he would have to look up in the dictionary later.
Didi had not wasted the time offered him by the girls’ unexpected bout on the bed; he had used it fruitfully to draw up a plan for enticing the Englishwoman, who he realised must be tired and longing for sleep by now, into his web. In a nutshell he would play hard to get. It was a ploy he had used successfully after the collapse of his first marriage and before he had met Romy, most notably on a three-day trip to Hamburg, where he had bagged a different girl on each of three consecutive nights. That he had to pay two of the girls was something he had conveniently managed to block out.
Adopting an ultra-relaxed position against the headboard, he asked Sophia if she would like to use their spare room that evening; otherwise, he could order a taxi to take her back to the hotel.
‘There’s always that what’s-his-name?’ chipped in Romy with a twinkle in her eye. ‘You know, Sophia, the man who picked you up from the airport.’
‘Oh, yes, him,’ responded Sophia. ‘But I don’t think he’d like being woken up at this time of night.’
‘That’s funny,’ replied Romy. ‘I’d heard he offered a round-the-clock service for the company’s VIPs.’
‘Maybe I don’t qualify,’ retorted Sophia, looking at Didi, who was clearly bemused by the turn the conversation had taken.
Sophia knew where her duty to the bank – and indirectly to herself – lay, and right now that entailed being ‘seduced’ by Didi’s wiles. As usual, the ‘new wife’ was a step ahead of everyone. She knew her presence would inhibit her husband, whereas, if she took herself off to bed in the spare room, he could fuck his new ideal woman to his heart’s content without much, if any, feeling of guilt. He was at heart an amoral man, who took his pleasures where he could find them, and, so long as they remained hidden, wasn’t overly troubled by his transgressions – if, indeed, he even saw them as such. Anyway, she wasn’t really interested in watching him. She knew all his moves by now and she knew Sophia had other motives for letting him give her the ‘best fuck of her life’.
After Romy had excused herself, Didi turned to Sophia, who was sitting naked on the edge of the bed, and patted the central part of the bed beside him. Dutifully, she bounced across the bed and lay down with her head on the pillows.
‘Would you like to be filled with German sausage?’ he asked, without a trace of humour.
‘My God, yes!’ breathed Sophia, suppressing a mighty desire to burst out laughing.
Knowing what was expected of her, she helped him out of his robe and simulated awe as she beheld his semi-erect phallus.
‘I’m not sure I will be accommodate it all,’ she said, managing to keep a straight face.
‘I will be gentle,’ her host replied.
‘May I taste it?’ Sophia asked, as if it were forbidden fruit – which, in a way, it was.
‘I want you only to do what you want to do, my love,’ he replied, irritating Sophia with his endearment.
Further words were more than Sophia could manage, so, instead, she tentatively brought her mouth to his helmet and, holding his shaft in one hand, circled the base of his dome with her tongue. He began whimpering like a child. Sophia decided to get this stage over with as quickly as possible, knowing, anyway, that in all likelihood it would take a fair amount of time given the depletion in his stocks of energy and indeed sperm that night.
‘Fuck, it’s big!’ she said extra loud, so that there would be no chance of Didi not getting the message.
Sophia used the old ‘count to 20’ trick to optimise her time and energy. ‘God knows, though, whether he’ll be able to recover enough strength to penetrate me later’, she thought. Not that she cared over much. She would wait until he had nodded off before joining Romy in the spare room. Sophia employed the tried and tested method of letting his shaft impale her mouth and then bobbing up and down on it until he shot his load. She wasn’t a big fan of being deep-throated (what was in it for the woman?) but in this instance she needn’t bother about that: he just didn’t have it in the dimensions department. But God was he enjoying it, judging from the running commentary he was keeping up! Sophia was barely past ten when she felt him come to the tipping point. A swift cradle of the balls should do the trick. Bingo! What was, in all honesty, a thin trickle of semen dribbled into her mouth.
‘My God!’ screamed Sophia, coming off his already flagging member. ‘I can hardly swallow it all.’
Didi, predictably enough, was ecstatic – though he attempted to appear cool – and already focused on the next step. Adopting a look which he must have developed by watching too many Bond movies, he asked Sophia if she was ready to defend herself if he drew his weapon. Her quick wit came to her rescue in her reply.
‘I want to take my chances with live ammunition. So many men have disappointed me by firing blanks.’
‘Even if I wound you,’ asked Didi like a ham actor.
‘Even if you kill me,’ answered Sophia in a tone even Joan Collins would have been proud of.
‘How do you want me?’ asked Didi, growing into the suave but irresistible Connery role.
‘Fuck me like it was my first time,’ replied Sophia, hoping he would understand that meant the missionary position, so she could lie there without doing much besides making the right noises.
Thankfully, Didi was on the same wavelength.
‘I will introduce it bit by bit,’ he said, ‘so that I won’t hurt you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sophia – incapable of any other response to such an utterance.
With no preliminaries (thank God!) he lowered himself on her and used a hand to guide the still semi-flaccid donger into what he was pleased to call her ‘love canal’.
‘How the hell can I get the thing rigid?’ thought Sophia, desperate to be in Romy’s arms.
Realising that the aural channel was a sure-fire winner with most men, she took a gamble. It was a big gamble, since not only could it stop their love-making dead in its tracks but it could also backfire horribly since it relied on humour and that wasn’t Didi’s strongest suit. But, desperate times and all that…
‘You big boy, you monster German sausage. I want you to do your Wurst!’
‘My worst? Ah, you mean my Wurst!’ replied Didi, already increasing the pace of his pounding.
‘You will have cause to regret your words.’
‘Please! No! I take it back. Be gentle with me!’
‘You have wanted this moment all evening. I am not going to disappoint you now.’
And, indeed, Sophia could feel something like a bulge pressing against the sides of her ‘love canal’, as Didi’s pumping became all but turbo charged. Sophia knew she had one more task to perform before he would be able to finish the job. As usual with men, it involved flattery.
‘Oh my God! You’re tearing me apart. Please, don’t fire your weapon! Don’t finish me off!’
Didi’s motions slowed right down as the longed-for wave overtook him. Sophia knew he was coming and decided a bonus was in order given the fact that she would be in Romy’s arms within ten minutes.
‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fill me with your love juices!’
Which, finally, he did.
As soon as Didi was asleep, Sophia snuck off to join Romy. The spare room wasn’t difficult to find, as it had a band of light streaming out from under the door. Sophia tapped lightly on the door and, receiving an answering call from Romy, entered the room. The bed was basically only a glorified single, but that scarcely put Sophia off. Neither did the sight of Romy, especially as she looked radiant in a light blue negligee.
‘Did he come?’ she asked simply.
‘After a fashion,’ Sophia replied. ‘I had my mind elsewhere.’
‘Where exactly?’
‘It’s easier if I show you rather than explain.’
And she did.