Look up the word Fasching in a German-English dictionary, and nine times out of ten the relevant entry will be confined to a single word. The English equivalent of Fasching, the compiler will prudently have revealed, is simply "Carnival".
This is both something more and something less than the truth. Western Bavarians and those inhabitants of southern Germany living between the Rhine and the Moselle would consider such an answer reticent to the point of being misleading. On the other hand, there is in fact no English equivalent of Fasching. Which large numbers of Anglo-Saxons think a shame.
Carnival it is in the sense that it is a traditional celebration held at the same time, and stemming from the same roots as the Central and South American Mardi Gras. Traditional it is in the sense that, as in France, Italy and many other Catholic countries, it is an ancient pagan festival adopted by the church and religiously observed through many centuries. But the way in which it is celebrated is something the Germans have made peculiarly their own.
Perhaps as a relief after the bitter winters of the region, perhaps as a necessary safety valve to balance the staunchly enforced day-to-day ethos of the community and its pastors, perhaps even as a salute to the coming rebirth of the Spring, the season of Fasching has developed into a period of total license.
To put it more bluntly, it's a sexual free-for-all.
Certainly there are masked balls and special masses, fairs and fetes, speeches and street parades… but the really important thing about it, for those who observe it, is the fact that you can do what you like, with whom you like, wherever you like, and nobody in the world has the right to reproach you for it afterwards!
For one week at the end of the winter, the towns and villages of the region – especially the smaller ones – shut up shop and have themselves a ball!
Ideally, at the beginning of that week, the stores put up their shutters (for there IS a great deal of wine and beer drunk and a certain amount of rowdiness results), the office workers leave their desks, the farm workers come in from the country, and husbands and wives, bidding each other an affectionate farewell, arrange to meet again in seven days' time. What happens in between is nobody's business but their own – and there are no recriminations. The whole population sets out to join in the merriment, spending the time with the partner or partners of their choice.
In practice, of course, it is by no means as clear-cut or as simple as that. The custom is not universally followed, for only thing. For another the complexities of modern life have inevitably modified the original romantic conception. But the fact remains – in that part of Germany, at that time of year, ladies requiring a temporary change of mate and gentlemen out for an easy lay have it all their own way, married or unmarried.
Which explains why sixteen year old Susan Templar, running away from the American hospital that rainy evening in late February, found the village of Siegsdorff in a state of suppressed excitement bordering on hysteria.
The street lamps at the entrance to the village were unlit and the shop fronts shuttered and barred, but there were floodlights illuminating the steeply gabled gingerbread houses ground around the cobbled central platz, and over the drumming of the rain a big brass band blared bravely through the open doors of a flag-decked Town Hall. A car passed Susan just before she reached the square, spraying a fan of water over her from a huge puddle in the road, but otherwise there was no traffic to be seen.
Groups of villagers with linked arms ignored the rain to surge across the shining cobbles laughing and singing. Through the leaded windows of the gasthaus and two beer-gardens on opposite corners of the square, a high-pitched roar of conversation penetrated the night. And amongst the crowd, masked revelers in costume darted maniacally, whooping, and giggling.
Susan pulled up short as soon as she reached the fringe of the illuminations, astonished by what she saw. She had forgotten it was the week of Fasching. Two hussars and a black-bearded pirate, accompanied by a Gretchen whose cotton bodice was plastered to her taut-nippled breasts by the rain, bore down on her shouting. "Thursday night, Fraulein, and still alone?" the pirate called. "A kiss on those young lips, and you'll know what to do with the rest of the week!"
Laughing foolishly, the others danced around her, crowding her against the wall as he pushed the domino mask up on to his forehead and seized her familiarly around the waist. She twisted out of his winey embrace and ducked hastily into the open door of a biergarten on her left.
The place was a bedlam of frenetic activity. Beneath the low-beamed ceiling, waiters in white coats swooped bearing trays laden with bottles and glasses. Among the crowded tables an accordion player in lederhosen and a Tyrolean hat tried vainly to make himself heard above the waves of drunken chatter that crashed off the walls. At the far end of the smoke-filled room red-faced men stood four deep around the bar shouting their orders. The overheated atmosphere was heavy with the smell of damp clothes and cheap cigars.
He was sitting, miraculously alone, at a small table not far from the door.
"Stefan!" she cried excitedly. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Susan! What a splendid surprise!"
He rose to his feet, his slim body lithe in its roll-neck sweater and jeans, the narrowed eyes beneath the thatch of blond hair as compelling as ever. "Sit down," he said. "What can I get for you?"
She let herself drop gratefully into the vacant chair. And all at once she was agonizingly conscious that she was faint with hunger. "I think… Could I possibly have… Could you get me something to eat?" she asked weakly. "Oh Stefan, I am glad to see you!"
"But, my dear, of course." Effortlessly, he secured the attention of a perspiring waiter, ordered her hot sausages and beer, smiled at her invitingly over the table. "And what happy wind blows my little Susan into Siegsdorff, of all places?"
"I've just been… I had to… I've been visiting at the American hospital," the exhausted girl said awkwardly.
"You're here with your parents, then?"
"Er – no. I came on my own."
The boy raised his eyebrows. "On your own?" he repeated. "But how? By bus? No… you're soaking wet. On some kind of bicycle? A motor bike? And how are you going to get back?"
"I'll manage," Susan said, wondering how she would or if she even wanted to try. By now her father would be home and she would be missed. What would they do?
Stefan shot her a look from under his eyebrows. "How? In this rain? There are no more buses. And don't forget the Fasching. You may not find a car so easily on the way back, or if you do it may be too easy!"
The girl looked up suddenly. Her mouth was full of sausage and her spine was still shivering under the impact of his look.
"How d'you know hitched here?" she demanded.
"Simple deduction," he said easily. "How else could you have gotten here? No – I think you'd better let me take you home. But first there's a little place around the corner I'd like you to see."
"Oh, Stefan, would you really? That would be wonderful!" Susan's eyes were shining. She'd even be prepared to go home and face the music, she could worry about her attitude to what she had seen when she got there, if Stefan was going to take her!
"What did you say about some other place?"
"I'll take you there as soon as you're through," he said.
When they got outside, the rain had eased off a little and the square was crowded. They were threading their way through the jostling throng by the Rathaus when Susan was suddenly seized around the waist and dragged off to one side in the middle of a group of whooping students in costume. She called for Stefan, but the crowd closed in behind her and cut him off. Struggling ineffectually, she saw that her captors were the pirate and the two hussars she had escaped from before she went into the biergarten. "Put me down!" she cried. "Let go of me this minute!"
They grinned at her, still hauling her through the crowd. They were much drunker now, and they had lost their Gretchen somewhere along the way. "Come on, sweetheart," one of the hussars panted. "We'll give you a much better time than he could!"
"Let me go!"
"Not until you've seen what a real man looks like!" the pirate leered.
"Susan!" Stefan shouted somewhere behind them. "Where are you?"
As she opened her mouth to call back, the other hussar grabbed her by the shoulders and sank his mouth on hers, spearing his tongue wetly in between her lips. Half crying, she struggled to break free, nauseated by the beery stench of his breath. But before she could yell for Stefan again, they whisked her around a corner and laughing, drunkenly dashed down a narrow alley running along one side of the Town Hall, carrying her screaming and protesting with them.
They clattered along the wet cobbles, ducked around a corner at the far end – and stopped dead. There were three youths in jeans and black leather jackets standing in the narrow, ill-lit street beyond the alley spaced out across the roadway, blocking their passage.
"Come on, fellows!" the first hussar said. "Make way, will you?"
"I don't think the lady's too keen to go with you," the youth in the middle said. There was an unlit cigarette jutting from the corner of his mouth.
"Look, get out of our way," the pirate said truculently. "We're in a hurry!"
"If you don't want to get hurt, that is," the second hussar added.
"I think the lady wants to go the other way."
"She's coming with us," the pirate shouted. "Get out of the way!"
"She stays here," the boy with the cigarette said. "You can go on or go back, whichever you like. But she stays here. She's a student, and we're here to see no student gets hurt."
"For Christ's sake, who do you think you are? We saw the bitch first."
"Let's push them out of the way, Franz!"
"Give it to the bastards!"
The three youths barring the road stared at them and said nothing.
Susan stared from one group to the other, her heart thumping. She was still powerless to escape, her arms tightly held by the two hussars, and she was frightened. In the distance, she could hear Stefan shouting for her at the far end of the alley.
Abruptly the pirate lost his temper. Uttering a string of curses, he sprang at the boy with the cigarette and aimed a vicious right at his jaw.
The boy swayed back slightly on his heels so that the blow caught him on the collarbone, knocking him slightly off balance. Before he had regained his equilibrium, his two companions leaped at the aggressor. The boy on the left, a sulky youth with dark curling hair, crashed the sole of his boot sickeningly into the pirate's groin as the other punched him savagely on the side of the head. The pirate grunted and doubled up – to meet the bulky youth's knee, which jerked up sharply to smash with stunning force against the bridge of his nose. The pirate groaned and dropped to the cobbles with blood streaming from under his black mask.
Meanwhile the two hussars had released their grasp of the terrified girl to launch themselves at the boy with the cigarette. He braced himself and jolted his forearm stiffly against the Adam's apple of the first, then whirled to trade a fierce flurry of blows with the second.
As the first hussar staggered back, the bulky youth locked an arm around his neck, turning sideways to bend the struggling reveler backwards over his hip in a judo lock. At the same time the third youth – a handsome boy with dark hair – slammed three murderous right-handers low into the pit of his stomach. Released suddenly from the neck lock, the hussar reeled to the wall groaning, fell to his knees, and vomited noisily into the gutter.
All three of the strangers now fell on the remaining hussar. They battered him about the head and shoulders, kneed him in the groin, and finally beat him to the ground, where he lay face downwards in the mud, covering his head with his arms and moaning faintly. The boy with the cigarette drew back his foot, but the dark youth laid a hand on his arm and shook his head.
"That's enough, Heinz," he said quietly.
"Perhaps you're right," the other said. Producing a lighter, he held the flame to his cigarette, which had remained in his mouth throughout the encounter, and squinted over it at Susan as he dragged smoke into his lungs. "I think that's your friend coming now, isn't it?" he said to the frightened girl, jerking his head towards the alley as he exhaled through his nostrils.
She swung around. Stefan had just turned the corner and was running towards them.
"Y-y-you mean I can go? I'm free?" she stammered.
"Free? But of course!" the youth looked pained. "We don't like to see drunken hooligans running off with young girls, that's all." He looked contemptuously at the three groaning figures on the ground and added: "I don't think they'll trouble you again."
Stefan arrived breathless. "Thanks, that was real nice of you," he panted, linking his arm with Susan's and squeezing her hand.
The dark boy grinned. "Be our guest!" he said in English.
The three of them were still standing in the middle of the narrower street, watching, as the couple turned the corner and hurried back up the alleyway towards the square.
Stefan's "little place around the corner" turned out to be a pint-sized bar in a back street crammed with an older generation of villagers. The conversation was lively but low pitched, and there was little evidence here of the manic gaiety seizing the costumed crowds outside – though Gretchen, drunker than ever, was draped over one end of the counter with her arms twined round the neck of a red-faced farmer. In a corner, a group of Bavarians in narrow-brimmed, decorated tweed hats jested over their beer with much subdued laughter.
They found a place in an alcove at the far end of the beamed, low-ceilinged room, and the blond boy elbowed his way to the bar to return with two small glasses of clear, bright red liquid. Susan sniffed at it experimentally. "What is it?" she asked. "What I wanted you to try. This place is run by Bavarians. The owner comes from Obergunzburg, near Munich. It's a specialty of his part of the country. Try it."
She sipped cautiously, swallowed, and then smiled. "Why it's quite nice! Sweet, and sticky, and… and, yes, it's like that stuff they give babies!"
He nodded. "Rose Hip Syrup, yes. Hardly surprising, because that's what they distill it from! Every rose grower and Gasthof in the hills down there has a still in the backyard."
Susan took a larger swallow. "I like it," she said. "Is it… alcoholic?"
"Just a little," Stefan said.
They had a second, and then a third. Susan never knew whether it was the apparently innocuous drink itself, or the weakening effect on her mind of the shocking things she had witnessed, or the delayed action of cold and hunger or perhaps even a combination of all three but somewhere between the second and third, the evening shattered as it were into pieces… and she was never able to reassemble them again into a coherent whole!
The full effect of the deceptive liquor didn't hit her until they were out in the street again. Before that there was a period in which Stefan, his blue eyes blazing with earnestness, leaned confidentially across the table and told her how beautiful she was, how grown up for her age, how much he had been longing to see her. People were singing in the bar too, but that was at a different time. She remembered lying on the floor – had she fallen over? – looking up past a forest of legs to see the face of Gretchen bending down towards her, screaming with drunken laughter. An old woman in the powder room handed her a face cloth soaked in cold water to put on her forehead and then giggled as though she would never stop, but the giggle sounded exactly like Susan's own. Then there were voices, growing louder and louder, crashing in on her like waves as the Town Hall spun off to her left and the street lamps spiraled away and up behind her. But no… that must have been after they left the bar.
She didn't actually remember leaving… or even deciding that she must leave. There was just this sudden and alarming sensation of the whole world canting slowly to one side as her nerveless legs stepped down through the wet cobbles of the street as if they had been made of molasses. It was difficult trying to drag her feet up again through that sticky fluid that sucked so persistently at her heels.
But then suddenly she was free of it, walking lightly, as though she was on a sheet of glass a foot above the sidewalk, with no sensation of her feet touching anything. Stefan was with her… a long way off to one side, holding out his hand to help her as he receded further and further into the distance.
Then she was lying on an old-fashioned feather bed in warm room with a fire burning brightly in a polished grate. The old woman drew across the heavy drapes and walked across to the bed to remove the damp face cloth from her brow. Susan blinked dazedly at her. "But… what are you doing here?" she stammered. "Weren't you in the b-bar?"
"Bar?" the woman echoed blankly. "What bar? You've been to a few bars too many, Fraulein, and that's the truth!"
She sniffed severely and turned to leave the room.
Susan shifted on the bed. The satin covers were cool under her skin. She was lying outside them… and, dear God, she was completely naked! She didn't have a stitch on her!
As she gasped in consternation, a warm hand grasped her suddenly around the ankle. She cried aloud and sat up in terror. It was only Stefan. He sat at the foot of the bed, smiling at her in the firelight as his supple fingers absently massaged the flesh of her leg. And then her mind reeled as she took in the full implications of the scene – she saw that he too was wearing no clothes.
"Stefan!" she cried wildly. "What's going on? Where am I?"
"It's all right," he soothed. "It's all right. Don't panic. You were taken a little faint when we left the bar. Probably you didn't eat enough today and then you got cold. Anyway, I thought you weren't in a fit condition to go home, so I brought you here to rest up a little."
"Where's here? Where are we? What time is it?"
"A little hotel I know not far from the Town Hall. Don't worry, they're very discreet."
"Discreet!" Susan repeated, her voice rising to a squeak. "Discreet about what? Stefan, why have you brought me here?" She tried to look angry but the room started to spin around just as the street had done, and she was forced to drop back once more against the pillows. She must have eaten something that disagreed with her, she thought confusedly. Perhaps those sausages at the biergarten…? Or could it possibly have been…? No, not those nice drinks at the bar! They were so sweet, almost like kids' sodas back home, and besides they had only had three tiny ones. In any case, Stefan would have warned her if they were intoxicating, wouldn't he?
Wouldn't he?
Prey to sudden suspicion, she raised her swimming head slightly and stared towards the foot of the bed. He was still holding her ankle, caressing the slender swell of her calf with his other hand, a slight smile on his lips and his eyes shadowed beneath those jutting brows.
She was all at once conscious of her nakedness, aware of her shamelessly exposed genitals alone with him in the firelit hotel room. Why did they have to bring her into a bedroom? Why had they had to take all her clothes off just because she felt a bit faint? And above all, she thought with a wild twinge of alarm, why was he naked too?
She hesitated to speak to him. He would look up at her when he replied… and before he could meet her eyes, he would have to look past the silky brown curls of pubic hair mantling the most secret parts of her loins, past the ripely swelling curves of her budding young breasts and the tender petaled nipples at their tips. Her virginal body was nakedly defenseless before his gaze!
She started slightly, feeling the warm wet pressure of his lips on the soft flesh at the inside of her knee.
"Susan," he murmured. "My Susan, I've missed you so much. Why have you not been to see me? It seems like a year!"
"I told you," she whispered huskily, staring straight up at the ceiling (it was still swaying slightly). "I'm not allowed to any more. My father…"
"I know, I know," he interrupted. "Your father is a difficult man. He does not like Germans."
"It's not that, Stefan," she began awkwardly. "It's just…"
"But surely you could have found time, somehow, to slip out secretly? Surely you could have stolen a few minutes here or there? You're so beautiful… it's been hell for me, just waiting and wondering."
"I did try, Stefan, really I did. I was going to come to the cafe today, but…" Her voice trailed away as she remembered with a sickening pang the scene she had witnessed from the balcony.
"But what?"
"Nothing… something came up. I couldn't." She shook her head as if to clear it and added: "Goodness, I feel so funny!"
He had placed his lips on the flesh of her inner leg again… only this time he was kissing her just above the knee. The bed creaked slightly as he shifted his weight further up it.
"You must relax," he mumbled into her softly trembling skin. "That's why I brought you here… to relax."
"Is it, Stefan?" she demanded, suddenly alert. "Is it that why you brought me here?"
"You know what I feel about you, darling. Susan…"
"No, Stefan. No. You know we mustn't!"
They had kissed and petted often enough. She had let him stroke her and fondle her sensitively throbbing breasts under her sweater. But they had never gone the whole way.
"And anyway," she said firmly, "I feel much too odd to… to… to do anything. I feel kind of sick, and I think I want to go home."
"But you don't have to do anything!" the blond boy protested. "That's what I keep telling you! Just lie back there and relax, honey."
Susan closed her eyes. If he was going to be sensible, if he was just going to stroke her a little, if she wasn't expected to do anything about it – well, it was really too much trouble to argue. She would lie there a while until the world stopped going around, and then she would get right up and go on home, Stefan or no Stefan!
The smooth caress of his fingers – on the sensitive inside of her upper thigh now – the gentle warm plucking of his lips and the occasion flicker of his tongue against her skin, the firm grasp of his hand that had moved from her ankle to the back of her knee, the crackle of the flames in the fireplace and the drumming of rain on the window pane, all fell into a kind of rhythm… a monotonous, hypnotic cycle of sensation born of the alcohol still singing in her blood and the heat of the room.
After a while the giddy swinging movement inside her head slowed down to a manageable rocking. At the same time she became aware that Stefan had altered his position. His two hands were now locked over the outsides of her thighs not far below her naked hips, and the thumbs, reaching over to the soft inner flesh, were gently rotating the skin as his wetly heated mouth played from side to side of her tightly closed legs.
She opened her eyes. To her astonishment she found that the lamp had been extinguished. The room was illuminated only by the redly flickering firelight, which cast long bobbing shadows up the walls and across the ceiling as the flames rose and sank. Stefan must somehow have reached out and found the switch as he lay beside her. Only now he was kneeling up on the mattress, his eyes closed and a look of utter contentment on his face as he gently kissed her legs with little nibbling motions of his lips and the same soft flexing of his thumbs.
Yet she hadn't felt the bed shift as he moved! Had she perhaps fallen asleep for a moment? She couldn't remember.
She closed her eyes once more. And then suddenly she realized that his caresses, which had started modestly at her ankle and calf, were now perilously near her vagina.
She was about to protest when she became aware with a thrill of horror that there was a heated dampness up between her legs! Almost without realizing it, lulled by the seductive effect of the firelight and the drowsy aftermath of the drinks she had taken, she had been squirming swiftly against the pressure of his thumbs… squirming down into the satin edge of a sensual bedspread just beneath her buttocks. There was a ridge of thick braid piping around the outside of the coverlet and this had gradually worked its way into the crevice up between her legs, stimulating the tender lips of her vagina!
Without thinking, she spread her thighs directly to gain greater contact with the braid, hoping perhaps that the contact would still the unfamiliar ache now burning deep within her belly.
The rough braid, and the down filled bedspread beneath it, excited the sensitive pink lips of her cunt even further. The wetness spread among the springy hairs concealing her virginal slit. The naked teenaged girl felt tiny throbs of excitement pulsing in the tender bud of her clitoris, and bit her lower lip tightly to hold back the forbidden sensations flaming through her loins.
Stefan was still sucking and kissing the flesh of her inner thighs. But hadn't his lips moved a fraction higher still, even nearer to the intolerable tremors threatening her pussy? She dare not look. She knew she ought to sit up right now and tell him to stop it. She ought to twist away from those hungry lips and order him to get her clothes and take her home. She had relaxed as he suggested and the giddy sensations in her head were better now – infinitely less troubling than the waves of excitement trembling inside her wetly throbbing cunt.
She ought to… but somehow she didn't! She lay trembling on the soft bed, feeling the hard edge of the coverlet below her desire dampened pussy and the pressure of alien fingers and an alien mouth across her thighs.
Suddenly Susan froze. Stefan had moved his left hand to cup her vaginal mound with his palm, rotating it slightly in time to the rhythm of his gently sucking lips, grinding it down against the silken hairs of her pussy and down against the sensitive tingling bud between the moist lips of her cunt. Now the gyrating hand was moving faster, pulling the swollen vaginal flesh this way and that as his lips continued their remorseless advance up her leg.
The lustfully aroused teenager's breath quickened. She could feel her nipples, iron-hard in the cool air blowing across from the window as her ripening young breasts rose and fell above her laboring rib cage. Oh God! She must stop him now! She must!
Raising a hand from the silky smoothness of the coverlet she seized his wrist and gradually forced his hand up and away from her loins. His palm came to rest on the rounded bulge of her young belly, and she kept her own hand over it. She tried to hold it still but it moved as though possessed of a force of its own, kneading her sensitive flesh relentlessly.
The fingers of his other hand nudged at the top of her trembling young thighs, seeking to force their way between her legs as his tongue probed gently at the softly trembling flesh, unable to go any further because she had pressed them tightly together. The aroused little brunette girl squirmed down against the edge of the coverlet, knowing he would think she was trying to evade the intrusion of his hand when secretly she was pressing the braid into her own wet vaginal slit!
The hot flood of fluid excitement between her legs was increasing. She could feel the warm wetness oozing down the cheeks of her nakedly quivering buttocks, and she thrust down even harder to feed the pleasure building there. As his fingers worked more firmly trying to get her to open her legs, the knowledge that she must stop him surged back… but the excitement rationalized away the danger. Stefan could not – would not – be able to get his fingers or his wetly tormenting lips on her vaginal flesh without forcing her. And surely he wouldn't do that? Not Stefan? Besides it felt so wonderfully wicked at the moment – only pleasure and no danger!
She grasped his wrist more tightly, but this did not stop the movements of his hand. It was still able to move about freely, teasing her belly mercilessly. Susan closed her eyes more firmly and gave herself over to the rolling sensations of sensual delight coursing lustfully through her virginal body. Surely he wouldn't dare to go further…?
Abruptly she gasped – in surprise this time. Stefan had suddenly shifted his other hand, snatching it away from the vee at the top of her thins to slip the fingers beneath her naked young buttocks, and his wet lips were now sucking hungrily at the hairs nestling in the crease between her thighs and her pelvis. She could feel his tongue wetly spearing against the taut flesh, insinuating itself down, down towards her excitedly quivering pussy.
Raising herself slightly, she moved to grasp that hand too but, as soon as her hips eased off the mattress, the invading fingers snaked under the rounded moons of her ass, forcing their way between her tightly flexed asscheeks and the soaked, satin of the coverlet. A moment later, his outstretched middle finger had wormed its obscene way straight into the wetly heated cavern of her cunt!
The still half-drunk teenaged girl cried aloud, squirming against the lewd invasion of her virginal flesh. Her whole body went rigid until her impaled vagina had become accustomed to the alien finger probing at the moistly pulsating softness of its tender walls.
She could feel her cuntal lubricants seeping onto the palm of the hand beneath her buttocks as that tantalizing finger moved in circles inside her, expanding the tight little hole with each teasing rotation. It drove Susan almost out of her mind! She didn't think she could stand the maddening stimulation of her wildly pulsating pussy another moment… and at the same time a flood of shame washed over her virginal young body as the irresistible waves of indecent pleasure overcame her desire to resist.
She was bad, she was wicked, she was wrong! She could never dare to criticize her mother or her aunt now! She was just as bad as they were!
"Oh, God!" she groaned aloud as Stefan's tormenting finger increased its gyrations within the hot walls of her tight little cunt. "Oh, God… but it's so gooooood!"
For there was nothing in the world like this feeling; she had never known anything quite like it before, even during the few petting sessions she had already had with her adored Stefan! Tonight somehow it was different… it was perverted, it was wrong, but it was delicious! And it consumed the whole of her being until there was nothing else in the whole of creation but that single finger slowly fucking in and out of her excitedly throbbing pussy.
She didn't even jump when the finger was suddenly pulled away and the panting youth wrenched her trembling thighs apart and positioned himself between them. He dropped at once to a kneeling position, his eyes gleaming lasciviously in the firelight. And then, breathing harshly and heavily, he placed his palms flat against the sleek insides of her thighs and dropped his thumbs to her eagerly pulsing cuntal lips. Slowly drawing the pink folds of flesh apart, he exposed the moistly throbbing slit to his lustful gaze.
"No!" the aroused brunette girl cried desperately. "No, Stefan… you mustn't…! I can't…"
But with an animal groan of lewd hunger, Stefan dropped his face between her legs. Mumbling incoherently, he flicked out his tongue, and the naked teenager jerked galvanically as it came into contact with the smooth wet flesh within the narrow slit of her vagina.
He licked gently at the swollen bud of her clitoris, snuggled just above the wide-stretched entrance to her virginal young cunt, pressing his thumbs further apart to splay the hair-fringed edges of the pussy slit wider still. His tongue traced a path up and down its full length, probing the wet crevices hidden up between her thighs. Susan groaned aloud, a mindless slave now to the lewd sensations whirling in her dazed head.
The excited German boy gradually warmed to his task as he became more and more familiar with each tiny fold of the hotly pulsating flesh quivering under the ministrations of his lips and tongue… teasing for an instant at a particularly sensitive spot, listening to the girl's impatient mewlings above him, and then darting his tongue forward lizard-like at the last moment when he sensed she could wait no longer. She was groaning and writhing in complete wantonness on the bed now, with droplets of perspiration forming on the surface of the skin all over her body. Her forehead was beaded with it and she could feel a trickle running down the valley between her ripely budding breasts. Stefan thrust his head forward and sank his tongue deep into the scalding wet opening of her lewdly squirming pussy. She gave a throaty cry… and then began a slow, powerful grinding of her tongue-impaled cunt against his face, moaning loudly now in the firelit room.
Her fingers clenched and unclenched convulsively as she put her hands on his head, intending to push it firmly away, but the fingers instead twined themselves in his thatch of blond hair to lock his face between her widespread thighs.
"Oooooohhh! That's so good!" she whimpered. "Oh, God! Aaaaaggh! Don't stop, Stefan!" Her head was raised again from the pillows, watching in lewd fascination her own willing depravity as the German boy's head rocked up and down in greedy feast at her secret genitals.
Sure of himself now, Stefan slid his hands down from between her thighs and cupped them under the smooth, rounded globes of her squirming buttocks, pulling her loins up tighter into his face. He nipped gently with his teeth into the soft fleshy folds surrounding the wetly widening hole of her cunt and reveled in the small squeal of excitement it brought from Susan's throat. He was suddenly enjoying the power he was exerting over her and extended himself to display his complete domination over her every breath. His tongue fucked on and on in the succulent moistness of her loins, increasing little by little in speed and depth until he had brought the shamelessly aroused teenager to the point of absolute subjugation to the whims of his practiced mouth.
As Susan's fingers tangled ever deeper in his hair, he slid his arms under her nakedly trembling hips, reached for her soft warm breasts, and rolled their taut little nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.
Staring down the naked length of her own wantonly writhing body at the muscles of his shoulders rippling in the firelight, Susan moaned in desperation. Her head fell back on the pillows and flailed from side to side as his tongue noisily speared in and out of the wet dilating walls of her vagina.
The shudders of forbidden pleasure rippling deep down in her loins were increasing in urgency… and there was nothing she could do about it! Tears of shame and humiliation, tears of anger at her own helpless weakness, filled her eyes. Oh God, how could she ever dare to criticize her mother again after allowing her own virginal body to be subjected to the lust of this foreign boy hunched down between her lewdly spread legs? How could she face herself, knowing that she was enjoying it so much. She clenched her teeth tightly and fought with all her will against the sparks of delight that threatened to burst into sudden uncontrollable flame and consume her.
It was a losing battle, and Stefan knew it. As his mouth and tongue slaved animal-like at the widespread tightness of her cunt, his eyes remained wide open, watching with arrogant male satisfaction her lust-contorted young face up through the quivering white mounds of her breasts.
Bringing his hands down under her once more, he gripped the backs of her knees, lifted them, and pushed her legs up and over her torso, so that the kneecaps touched her chest and exposed the whole flat plane of her genital region to his lustful gaze. Then, leaning forward on the soft bed, he flicked the wet pointed tip of his tongue into her tiny puckered anus. The unexpected wet contact with the sensitive rubbery opening sent a billowing flame of wanton desire searing through her loins and wrung a long low groan of anguish from her lips.
"Nooooooo!" she whispered shrilly. "No, no, no… You mustn't, Stefan! You mustn't! Please! Please!"
The blonde boy moistened the tip of his middle finger in her cunt and pressed it against the tiny wrinkled orifice, his mouth dropping once more to Susan's erect little clitoris. And as he sucked and nibbled at the swollen and blood-gorged nerve bud, he thrust forward with his finger, sinking it suddenly to the first knuckle in her anal opening.
Susan cried aloud. "Ooooohhhhh!"
Pressing harder, he thrust the finger in to the second knuckle.
"Aaaaaggghhh!" she cried again. "No, Stefan, no! That hurts!"
Holding the finger still, he plunged his tongue deeply into the wetly heated walls of her vagina once more, fucking it in and out until she became accustomed to the alien presence in her rectum behind it. The cute teenaged girl lay rigid now, holding her breath with her mouth wide open, her lips drawn back over her teeth.
Then, after what seemed an eternity, she sighed shudderingly and began to breathe again. Stefan, lapping frenziedly at her hotly throbbing cunt, suddenly became aware of his own excitement. Until now he had been concentrating on the arousal of the frantic teenager, but all at once he was achingly conscious of the expanding tightness of his massive cock spearing out from his belly and of the gnawing pressure building deep in his sperm-bloated balls swinging so ponderously beneath the rigid shaft. He began to lick and suck her sweet young pussy again in earnest, twisting his finger around and around in the gasping brunette's anus, stretching it wider and wider with each gyration until the pain in her rectum merged with the erotic delights surging through her cunt.
Almost frantically Susan began screwing her buttocks back against his impaling finger, skewering it into herself in time with the ecstatic lashing of Stefan's tongue. A strange masochistic wildness took hold of the young brunette as she lay impaled between his tongue and his finger, grinding her asscheeks in a mindless abandonment against the maddening probings at her hot steaming loins. Nothing mattered now but the delicious shafts of pleasure piercing her virginal flesh; nothing mattered but the sweet agony of the obscene sensations swirling over every inch of her naked sixteen year old body. There was nothing else, nothing in the whole universe, but this wild, lascivious, searing, depraved delight!
As she bucked and twisted under the blond German boy's impalement, she began shouting and sobbing out every vile and lewd word that she knew. "Oh God, Stefan… suck me! Lick me! Stick your tongue in my cunt! Give it to me! Ram your finger up my ass! Harder! Harder, my love…! That's it… yes… eeeeeeeuuggh!"
Stefan's breath was coming in tortured gasps. He exulted in the sense of power he felt as Susan's thighs spasmodically opened and closed against the sides of his head while he slaved at her anus and cunt. He felt her belly begin to rise and fall with a growing urgency. Her head thrashing out of control on the pillows, the twin mounds of her firmly ripened breasts dancing and jiggling lewdly on her chest. He thrust his tongue deeper! The warm, soft resilience of her thighs pressed more tightly to the sides of his head, gripping and relaxing to the rhythm of his punishing, flicking tongue.
He knew she was on the brink of orgasm. Her whole body was shuddering wildly. Her fingers scrabbled crazily in his hair as a low animal moaning started far back in her throat. Suddenly she arched her back. The breath jetted through her flaring nostrils in accelerating jerks. Her thighs crossed behind his neck and locked his head to her frantically churning loins.
"Aaaaaaghhh!" she cried wildly. "Oh Stefan… Oh, oh, oh, oh… Oh God! I'm cumming! I'm cuuuuummmiiinnnggg!"
At the same time, as though he had abruptly been borne onwards by a giant wave and then dashed to the shore as it exploded in a thunder of foam, the boy unexpectedly surged into his own climax. His head jerked itself away from her loins. His lips drew back from his teeth and he uttered a strangled cry. Snatching his finger from Susan's tightly clasping anus, he clapped both hands to his crotch, broke free from the stranglehold of her thighs, and rose half upright on the bed, his muscular pelvis shuddering uncontrollably.
Through the tunnel of his clasped hands, his wildly jerking penis began spasmodically pumping a thin stream of scalding cum over the girl's trembling belly. As the hot sperm spurted and gushed between his clenched fingers, falling in long pearly threads to dew Susan's silken pussy hair, he sighed deeply and the taut muscles of his young body gradually relaxed. His shoulders drooped, his eyes closed, and he fell forward exhausted over her plundered loins to lie with his head between her shuddering breasts as the pools of sticky semen on her belly pressed against the sparse hairs on his chest.
Susan's hands clasped themselves involuntarily over the back of his blond head. Her legs straightened slowly along the satin coverlet. She turned her face towards the dying embers of the fire, heaved a slow and satisfied sigh… and fell instantly, deeply asleep.