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Keeping tight hold of the bottle of red wine, I rest the bunch of flowers in the crook of my arm and press the gloved tip of my finger against the bell marked ‘Dieter & Gabriele Hausmann’. I lean close to the speaker, my breath misting up the metal as I wait for a reply. Even in the entrance hall it is bitterly cold.

The speaker crackles into life.

‘Frau Hausmann?’

‘Jeff Taylor here.’

‘Oh Mr Taylor. Hello. Please. Come.’

The switch on the inner door buzzes and I move over to open it. Warm air hits my face as the door opens. I walk to the lift and press the button for the fifth floor. The lift moves swiftly and smoothly upwards and stops. The door opens. And there she is. Smiling in welcome.

‘Mr Taylor. How do you do?’

She is stunning. Black hair. Smiling dark brown eyes. A broad open face. Wide, full mouth. Her skin is tanned and lightly freckled. Her eyes and face are lively and animated. She is wearing a plain white full length dress, tied high at the neck but scooped over full tanned breasts. A single large brooch at her throat. I present the flowers and the wine and her smile broadens and her eyes twinkle in pleasure. She leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

‘Danke schon. Thank you Mr Taylor. Come. You are cold. We will warm you.’

She takes my arm and walks me towards the open door of the HausmannÕs flat. As she moves two long slits at the front of the white woollen fabric of her dress part and reveal bare brown legs.

‘IÕm afraid Dieter is not here. He had to do go Hamburg on business. So I will have to look after you all on my own.’ And she smiles that same michievious smile and adds, ‘I hope you are not too disappointed!’ And she laughs out loud at the lopsided can’t-believe-my luck grin that has spread across my face and squeezes my arm. Come. Champagne. ‘You like champagne? Then dinner for two. I hope you are hungry?’

My grin broadens and I relax. ‘I have been thinking about it all week Frau Hausmann. I am very, very hungry. And you look very, very beautiful.’

She looks even better than the first time I saw her, at a boisterous evening in the Altstadt – ‘the old city’ – the entertainment centre in the middle of Dusseldorf, There were a dozen of us squeezed together round a large table in a noisy pub/restaurant eating Gebratene Schweinhaxe – roast pigs trotters done with roast potatoes – and drinking half litres of light German lager. It was my good luck to find myself placed next to her. Husband Dieter was seated on the far side and kept leaning over and explaining the local dishes and customs in his strangely accentless English. As the evening wore on the good humour of friends and business colleagues got louder and louder and the place became more and more crowded and round after round of the deceptively light beer kept arriving at the table.

Frau Hausmann – Gabriele Hausmann – Gabi – was wearing a long dark skirt and a white blouse, opened low enough that when she leaned forward the upper slopes of her heavy breasts were exposed, their fullness stretching the lace of her white bra. She told me she was a personal assistant to the boss of a publishing firm and enthused about a visit she and her boss had made to London and the people in our head office she had met and what she thought of them and her thigh rested comfortably against mine and her eyes sparkled and her red lips mouthed the unfamiliar English words and her full breasts flashed into view through the opening in her blouse and the evening was perfect, just perfect.

At the end of the evening as people begin to a noisy round of ‘Auf Weidersehens’ she turns to her husband and has a brief conversation before turning back to me.

‘Dieter and I would like to invite you to a meal with us. Would Thursday evening be okay?’

I say I would love to come. Thursday would be fine. Her eyes light up. ‘Good.’ she says. ‘I will like that very much. You will enjoy it very much too. I promise.’ And she reaches out her hand over mine in my lap and squeezes it. At the touch of her soft hand my prick rises unbidden and as she releases my hand her long fingers trail slowly over the bulge in my trousers and her eyes are full of mischief. ‘Till Thursday then Mr Taylor. Auf Wiedersehen.’ With that, she and Dieter move towards the door and go, but not before she turns one last time and looks back at me to see me watching her and gives me a last small secret smile and a small wave of the hand.

I go back to my hotel, my body in turmoil and head straight for the bathroom. I unzip, take out my engorged prick and think of her body and that smile and masturbate into the sink, my sperm jetting against the white porcelain, my knees weakening with the effort and then emptied and spent I look up to the mirror and the face that looks back is heavy-eyed and glazed with an animal lust.

She leads me into the kitchen and reaches down to the fridge, the white dress moulding her buttocks and thighs in one glorious unbroken clinging curve. She cannot be wearing anything under that dress and as she rises and turns to hand me a bottle of ice-cold champagne her twinkling, knowing eyes tell me she knows I have got the message she wanted to send.

‘Now enough of kartal escort this ‘Frau Hausmann’ and ‘Mister Taylor. We must ‘dutzen’. Yes?’

I take off the wire, hold the cork and twist the bottle to release the bubbling foam and fill two long-stemmed glasses.

She gives a little laugh as the foaming liquid spills over and looks at me again. I love it when it spills out like that. Its so sexy dont you think? And now …’

And in time-honoured German custom we link arms, look into each others eyes and solemnly announce ‘Gabi’ and ‘Jeff’ and drink deep from the glasses. The cold wine slips down my throat and I feel good – as alive to the moment as the bubbling wine. She looks up, eyes shining and mouth wet from the wine. Her lips part over big white teeth and she says, ‘Now Jeff we are friends you and I – Yes?’

She puts her glass down and turns and puts a hand on each of my shoulders and reaches up and kisses me and at the feel of her soft warm lips my arms go round her waist and I pull her to me. Her full lips part softly. I move back a fraction and I look at her eyes and the smile is replaced now by a small hunger and she is looking down at my mouth. I move my left band up on her broad back and pull her into me and drop my opened mouth onto hers and kiss her hard. My hand moves down onto her full rounded sleek arse and the woollen dress slides over her taut flesh under my fingers. I pull her lower body onto my stiffening prick and push it into her soft belly so she can feel my desire. As my hardness presses into her she tightens her grip on me and her hands move up to the back of my neck and she pulls my head down to her mouth which opens wide. My tongue slips into her mouth and touches the warm wet live animal that is her tongue. I can feel her excitement as her belly pushes against my stiff prick and I know that before the end of the evening I am going to he sliding my prick up into her wet cunt and fucking this lush and lovely woman and pumping sperm into her beautiful warm brown body.

And then she breaks away and looks up at me. For a moment her eyes are heavy with lust, the eyes of a woman who wants to fuck – now, right now, please – and then she breaks the spell of her own desire and the light comes back into her eyes and she reaches up her fingers and softly touches my lips and whistles a long breathy, ‘Wheeew’.

She disentangles herself from me and once more takes my arm and says, ‘Come Jeff. I think we have to eat – first.’ And as she pauses and then adds that last word the look in her eyes is a promise that dessert will be something I’ll never forget.

She leads me into the lounge. There is thick carpeting everywhere. White rugs. A black wood dining table laid with silver cutlery and white tableware. Yellow candles flicker in white candleholders. The room is sofly lit with subdued table lamps. Over the dining table is a large abstract painting in muted greys, fawns and brilliant primary yellow. A stereo set plays Spanish guitar music. Soft but sharp. Little clusters of exploding sound.

The meal is superb. Chilled avocado soup and more champagne. A lamb dish with a bottle of red Burgundy. A cold blackberry sweet.

As the wine flows our talk becomes easy and intimate and this lovely lively woman with her deep dark shining eyes and brimming sense of fun open up and tells me about herself.

She tells me about her childhood. About life in a Germany still recovering from the desolation of war, a world away from today’s affluence. She talks of skinny dipping in the Rhine. In answer to my cheeky question she says no, she wouldn’t do it now. Not because she’s too shy to take her clothes off and show her body, but because the Rhine is not as clean as it was 25 years ago. Nowadays if she wants to take her clothes off she and Dieter go along to the sauna.

‘A mixed sauna?’ I ask, all mock innocence.

‘Ja, naturlich – but of course – men and women together. Don’t the strange English do the same?’

She laughs at me and says how much fun it is at the sauna to look at a man and ‘to make a sexy play with the eyes – How do you call that Jeff?’

‘Flirting, I tell her and she makes a sexy play with me with her laughing dark eyes and picks up her glass.

Watching me over the rim of her glass she parts her lips and sips at her red wine and she puts her glass down and says huskily, ‘It’s good, to make the flirting. Yes?’

She pauses for a moment and says thoughtfully, ‘You must come with Dieter and me in the sauna. I think you will enjoy it.’

When I feign a blush and tell her that if I were to see her with no clothes on I would not be able to hide my excitement she laughs and shakes her head and says, ‘No it is not like that – the sauna is too hot and besides if something does begin to happen you can dive into a cold plunge and that takes care of the problem. Then you come out it is not possible to see this problem at all then!’

We both laugh. I tell her I doubt this and say, ‘You say it never happens? Come on Gabi! Tell the truth! If a woman as beautiful as you makes the ‘big flirt’ you must get the ‘big reaction’. Too big too hide!’

She laughs again and admits there bostancı escort have been a couple of occasions when she has been ‘making the flirt’ with a man and she has let him see ‘a little more of me’ in the sauna and she has watched him getting excited so that he has had to cover himself with his towel.

‘Then I make the flirt more and show him a bit more of me and I watch the towel stand up.’

She laughs again, eyes twinkling with naughtiness and explains – how the men like to watch the women coming out of the cold plunge.

‘Everything is sticking out on the body. We say ‘Gansehaut’ – gooseskin – and you?’

I explain about goose pimples. Then she screws up her face when I explain ‘pimple’, so I chide her about ‘breastwarts’ which is what the Germans call nipples and ask if the women’s breastwarts don’t also stand out.

‘Oh yes, the nipples. They are also standing out!’ she replies.

‘Were or are?’ I ask.

She looks at me with those wicked eyes and laughs and says, ‘Yes.’ And laughs some more.

The talk gets raunchier. She tells me about how once when Dieter was away she went to the sauna on her own and began ‘making the flirt’ with a man. There were just three of them – two women and a man – in the sauna. Excited by the situation she let him see more of her and the man’s towel began to stand up. Because the other woman could not see what he was doing he let his towel slip away from his body so she could see he just how very big and how very excited he was.

‘I see he is excited and I get excited too and I have to leave the sauna and jump in the cold plunge.’

As she was standing there up to her neck in ice cold water the man walked by the end of the plunge, his towel wrapped round his waist. The towel bulged in front of him. He looked directly at her and nodded in the direction of the shower area.

After a short interval she wrapped herself in a towel and took her body gel and went to the showers – a room off the main room. Putting her towel on a bench she got under a warm shower – just the two of then now in the room – and began washing her body. She wasn’t looking at the man, but as she soaped the gel all over her body she became aware the man standing two showers away was also soaping his body.

‘He is – how do you say it Jeff – ‘satisfying himself? – you know, with his hands.’

She looks at as with a wicked grin on her face and then reaching out her hand to the neck of the wine bottle on the table she makes a masturbatory action, her finger tips skimming featherlight up and down over the green glass. She looks from her moving fingers to my face, her lips parted, a question mark in her grinning eyes. She is enjoying telling me this sexy tale. Winding up my lust.

‘Playing with himself?’ I suggest.

‘Yes. That’s right Jeff. He is playing with himself and there is no towel to cover it now. I pretend not to notice it but then he makes faster with his hands and the gel and it gets bigger and sticks up and it goes very red and then he makes a gasp and it spurts – just like the champagne – and I get so excited I must go back in the cold plunge.’

She laughs again and I look at her impish eyes and wish I was wearing nothing but a towel so that I could let it slip to show her the effect she is having on me and how my prick is sticking up and how much I want to spurt while she watches me masturbating.

‘I think I also have to go in the cold plunge, Gabi,’ I tell her. ‘Where is it?’

I get up from my chair and put my napkin down on the table and as I rise from my seat, Gabi takes a quick glance at the front of my trousers and my erection which is sticking incredibly up and then straight back at my face, her eyes mocking and wicked.

‘You have a problem Jeff?’ she laughs.

As I move round the back of her chair I lean close to her ear so that I’m looking down into the front of her dress at the upper slopes of her big, luscious, brown breasts and the start of her dark brown nipples. Her beautiful breastwarts are balanced on the edge of a flimsy lace brassiere.

I murmur into her ear, ‘Yes. My problem is I can’t wait to see you in the sauna, Gabi – and make the big flirt, There is no sauna in the house, is there?’

She swivels in her seat so that her legs come out from under the dining table. The slit in her skirt opens over her bare brown thigh. She reaches up and takes my hand and looks up at me and says all mock concerned with a frown on her forehead and a smile in her eyes, ‘Oh I am so sorry you have a problem Jeff. Yes there is a sauna – in the basement. But I am too full for the sauna. You also. It is not good so soon after eating. So I am sorry poor Jeff you will have to wait … unless … Ah! I have the idea. Just a moment.’

She gets up, takes my arm and we go into the corridor. She stops by a door and says, ‘Here you can look at your problem.’ She opens the door to the bathroom for me, lets go of my arm and continues up the corridor.

I spend the next five minutes stroking my problem and imagining Gabi taking off her dress and reappearing with nothing more than shower gel for me to rub into her skin. I hear her steps come back down maltepe escort the corridor and past the bathroom door. I pour cold water on my rampant problem and manage to stuff it back in my trousers and leave the toilet.

She is standing in the kitchen – still fully clothed.

‘I make the coffee Jeff. Sit down on the big settee. I bring your coffee – and a brandy.’

I go back in the lounge and sit down. On the low table in front of the settee is a big thick book with a black cover. Intrigued, I pick it up and open it.

It is a picture album. Of Gabi. Nude. In the first picture she is stood by a window. She is wearing a dress with thin shoulder straps. The strap nearest the camera has been pulled down exposing her full, round breast. The sun streaming in through the lace curtain makes a pattern on her skin. Her finger tips touch her large erect nipple. The second picture is taken in front of the same window. This time it is a close up of the same pattern of light and dark on her naked belly and her pubic hair. In the next picture her hair covers her face except for one eye, which looks straight at the camera. She is pouting. Her hand cups her breast and offers it to the camera. Again the nipple is erect.

There are pictures of her in every sort of pose, close-ups, dressed, half-dressed, nude. A picture of her getting out of a car, wearing a large white hat, so that you cannot see her face at all, her skirt pulled back, her thighs parted, the clip of her suspender standing proud of her dark satin stocking top and the white flesh of her bare thigh above. She is not wearing anything under her skirt and the photograph is so clear you can see the dark curled whispy cunt hairs and the long padded slit of her outer cunt lips.

There are pictures of her breasts, her skin, her shoulder, her smooth belly, one of her tongue licking the top lip of her open mouth. There are close-ups of her pubic hair, of her cunt lips, swollen and parted, a picture of her panties caught in her cunt and another – in close-up – of her long fingers with their varnished nails dipping into the moistness between her parted cunt lips.

I stroke my prick through my trousers and flick over the pages. There is one of her breast and belly, the breast in full light, the soft belly curving away into darkness. Again the nipple is fully erect. The focus is pin sharp. The tiny bumps next to her huge thick extended nipple are so clear you could touch them. My hand squeezes my prick again. A coffee cup rattles. I look up. Gabi is bending over to put a cup on the table. She looks down at the picture I am studying.

‘You like my breastwart?’ she says softly.

She stays bending over and I look down the scoop of her dress. Her big breasts are hanging loose and bare in her dress. Her nipples are clearly visible. She has taken off her bra. The nipples are hugely erect.

‘They are beautiful,’ I tell her.

She straightens and walks round the coffee table to sit next to me. She crosses her legs and the dress falls away from her knees to the top of her bare brown thighs.

She slips her arm through mine and leans towards me.

‘Did you take care of your problem?’

‘No,’ I tell her thickly. ‘It was too big.’

I look down at her big soft breasts, squashed against my arm, the edges of the large dark brown circles round her nipples showing over the white of her dress. ‘It is worse. I need some body gel.’

‘Shall I help with your problem?’ she asks.

I put the book down on the table and drop my mouth onto hers. Her lush lips open to my tongue. She wriggles her arm free of mine and her hands go round my face holding me while our tongues and mouths slip and slide wetly. Her body wriggles. Then we break free. Come up for air. Her dark eyes are lustful now, the light gone from them.

‘Show me your problem,’ she says thickly. ‘Maybe I can help.’

I unbuckle my belt, undo my trousers, pull the zip down and push my trousers down my thighs. My prick springs free. It feels enormous, heavy and stiff, poking up from between the tails of my shit like a big red pepper pot. She reaches a hand down and touches it gently with her finger tips, running them lightly round the top of my prick. Then she wraps her hand softly round the shaft. Her head moves down close to it. I reach out and free the catch at the back of her dress. Pulled down by the weight of the heavy brooch, the front of her dress falls away from her body. Her left breast hangs heavily to rest on my thigh. The nipple is huge. I cup the heavy fullness, moving my hand over the smooth rounded skin, playing gently with her hard erect nipple. She shudders. Her mouth descends on my prick. Her lips open and move over the engorged head, bathing it in warmth and wetness. Slowly and softly this beautiful woman starts sucking my prick. Stroking her breast, I watch the miracle happening. Her mouth opens wide and I see my shaft disappearing into it, her wet tongue pressing against my taut skin as it slides down over me. Then her head moves up again and the shaft slowly reappears, drenched in saliva. She lifts her head just an inch from the head of my prick. A thin strand of saliva clinging to the corner of her open mouth glistens then breaks. Her tongue comes out and licks round the dark red meat of the head of my prick as her hand squeezes the shaft. Her lips pull back over her teeth and very gently she encircles the head of my prick with her big white teeth. Then she lets go, turns her head to look at me and the twinkle is back in her eye.

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