Kitabı oku: «Just me», sayfa 3
On peak days we even managed to enjoy more than ten rounds of our pants-down-game. I can still remember a neighbor boy – he is a famous man now – who allowed me to lend him a hand in order to get a little juice out. He was about to despair because he couldn't get anything out of him, and he blamed it on his lack of technique. So I rubbed his cock until it turned red and blue.
Whenever we did this, we went to our reed hut on the banks of the Inn. We felt safe there.
Only when it came to my friend Isidor, even my sensitive womanly hand technique failed. Not even a drop of the manly juice came out of the boy's cock, which at any rate was very hard and erect.
The next day I had a charley horse in my arm, just like from chopping too much wood.
So if you want to have a charley horse, you do not need to cut wood, you just have to masturbate.
At one of these occasions my brother Othmar had his hard penis stung by a bee. God, did we laugh about that at first! Even I, the only girl who had been allowed to participate at that day and who was feeling a bit uneasy at the sight of the gigantic penis, had had a good laugh in the beginning. But when his cock swelled up like a balloon and his pain got so bad that he could barely stand upright, we had to go back home to call a doctor. Our official explanation was that a bee had simply got lost in his pants. We vacillated between laughing ourselves silly and being completely horrified.
Faced with the mega-dimensions of Othmar's manhood, I had a question bubble up in my head: "Can this male instrument of pleasure actually burst in such a situation?" My curiosity dumbfounded our mother and drove her to despair. Even the doctor was not able – or not willing – to answer that question.
True to the motto 'the laugh is always on the loser', Othmar was, for a time, the source of many jokes about "the balloon-cock".
It took days before he was able to participate in our youthful sex games again, and he had to wear my pants, which were quite a bit larger than his own. His imposing manhood needed more room.
Despite these rare, amusing highlights, my time in junior high was one big cry of distress. I still ask myself today how I ever managed to survive the fear and terror I felt every morning for four years.
And all this happened in spite of the fact that I was praised later at evening school and at university for having an unusual high IQ. I was assured that only about 2.5% of the population had something similar to offer.
It was not just the stress with my classmates. No! Since I was extremely listless, my performance at school did little to increase my self-esteem. In addition to all the stress during the scheduled breaks, I also felt stressed out by the teachers and the grades.
It was certainly no coincidence, but rather a stroke of fate, that I began to study martial arts, which is viewed as a male domain, years later. I got my 7th Dan grade in Kidokan, and now I am almost certainly able to beat 99 percent of my potbellied and beer swilling former male classmates at a strength tester machine at a carnival.
At a time when other pubescent girls had their first experiences with boys such as shyly holding hands and getting kisses on the cheek and on the lips, I had my hands full with rubbing the dicks of my pack.
°
I cried out in desperation as the heavy sea broke over me. Fortunately, I had fixed a strong lifeline to the little dinghy in the meantime, and I still clung to it as the massive wave spit me out again. My heart was beating fast and I was trembling all over as I pulled the leash back to the boat. With every cell of my body I felt how my forces left me slowly but surely. Each pull on the line required more strength and willpower. With every effort my hands and arms were aching more and more. By and by, I got the disturbing feeling that I was not moving from the spot at all. Was I getting closer to the dinghy at all, or was every wave throwing me back more and more yards? After every wave that pulled on the rope, I was happy I still had not lost hold of it.
The result of my desperate clinging, tearing, slipping and tugging was that my hands hurt more and more. My torn skin was hanging in strips from my raw palms. Was I actually still able to feel real pain or had I completely damaged the nerves that transmitted pain impulses? Was I tormented by phantom pain? Was a part of my battered body almost dead already? When would the rest of it follow? When would my soul? I drifted off into a state of indifference and unconsciousness.
"Ouch! Damn!" Suddenly, I felt like something had kicked me. But… out here? That was impossible! I stuck my head under the water surface and looked at my legs.
Because of the salt, my eyes burnt when I opened them underwater, so I had to wait a few moments before I could see again. When my vision was finally back, even though it was still a little blurry, my body tensed. Like a bolt, fear flashed through me. It felt as if an ice cold sword had cut through my chest, making my whole body tremble uncontrollably. Now I realized what had hit me. What I saw seemed incredible, but to my horror, it was painfully real. Reality had become a nightmare.
What is a heart able to endure? Tachycardia was the wrong word for what was happening in my chest: That already resembled an atrial fibrillation. At first I had only seen shadows, but soon it was a certainty, and my emotions made me want to cry out in despair. Everywhere below me were sharks. It was not just one shark: There were several dozens of sharks, countless scary predators, and they were so close. Close enough for me to see their eyes. Fractions of a second later, supported by a huge adrenaline rush, I threw myself into the boat. With a frantically beating heart I lay there for minutes, all four limbs stretched out on the ground.
"Just do not keel over again; I must stay out of the water by all means… Ooohhh my God – please let the storm be over!"
My body was shaking so violently that even the boat seemed to vibrate. A wave caught the boat and lifted it up again. Immediately, I shifted the weight of my body to stabilize the dinghy. My life depended on my efforts to keep the boat in a stable position now. I did not want to, or rather could under no circumstances risk falling into the water again. Not as long as these murderous monsters were circling around my tiny boat. I didn't even dare imagine what would happen if I capsized again…
What felt especially disturbing to me now was that the wind was getting stronger and stronger, and thus the height of the waves increased. "I wonder if I'll ever be able to get out of this seething bath alive…"
°
Back then, my whole family – all nine of us – used to sleep on mattresses in the attic during summer and other vacation times, so that we could rent our rooms out to German tourists. Well, actually, we had only two bedrooms: one for my parents and one for the seven of us kids. My parents desperately needed the extra money.
Looking back, I have to be fair and admit that this measure allowed us hillbillies to catch a glimpse of the big wide world – even if it was only Germany.
That's how we met Elke, for example, who already was a terribly lascivious girl when she was only at the age of twelve. That girl had an angel face, but was very frivolous in spite of that. She was c ertainly not reluctant to teach my rough brothers and the tomboyish witch I was something about the erotic world of girls. For all of us, she resembled a vision from Venus: an absolutely unknown, mysterious, strange terrain.
Elke allowed all of us to kiss her in our reed hut. Every year, starting when she was eight, she gave us a little more. Yes…even to me. And it was not just pinch-kisses. We also stuck our tongues deep into the little girl's mouth. And Elke did quite a good job with us too.
Apart from that, we enthusiastically played the "one, two, three ... pants down"-game with her and two finally awakened neighbor girls in our reed hut. Elke then turned out to be very disappointed that she could not pee as far as me and my fellows. At least in that respect I had the dubious advantage of months of training in our reed hut.
By and by, I got the feeling that she took a particular interest in me, the only girl in the group. This feeling turned out to be more than just a product of my childish imagination: Elke confirmed to me that I had been right. However, we did not actually get much closer as I, and I guess my reasons are pretty easy to understand, only wanted to collect sexual experiences with boys back then. Elke, on the contrary, didn't bother too much about the gender of her "playmates"; she was primarily interested in having fun.
°
A wave that swept over my head jerked me out of my thoughts.
"Oh my God, how long have I been here in the water?" Had it been minutes or hours by now? At any rate, it had become brighter. The storm had calmed down a bit, the waves were not so high anymore and lifted the boat up less often, and luckily I was still lying stretched out inside my small dinghy.
Had I fallen asleep from exhaustion? Perhaps I had had a thousand guardian angels protect me here in my already hopeless situation, surrounded by hungry sharks.
As I could not see any land and the sky still appeared somewhat cloudy, it was difficult to determine the time without seeing the position of the sun.
Suddenly a huge wave that seemed to have come out of nowhere crashed onto me and into the boat, almost ripping the abandon ship bag from my hands. I had trouble staying in the boat and keeping it from capsizing. The dinghy was instantly full of water. I immediately started scooping the liquid out of the boat with my bare hands. For a moment, I had become careless and had forgotten that I still found myself in great danger of falling into the water again. A little amount of water in the boat was not so bad, but a full boat meant sinking.
"Just do not let the boat keel over!" was my motto for the moment. Another wave could easily overwhelm me completely, at least as long as the boat was full of water. I needed fresh water, drinking water, and was surrounded by a vast ocean full of salt water. Carefully I took a sip of water from one of the bottles in the abandon ship bag. And again I asked myself how long I could survive with this limited supply of water I had left.
Some time ago, I had read a newspaper article about a 20-year-old guy in Vorarlberg who had survived a week without water. Locked and forgotten in a dark cellar, he kept drinking his own urine, the same liquid, over and over again. You might call that some kind of a 'continuous loop'. However, I didn't think this could actually work in my situation here. I had no penis , which would have made it easy to pee in to a bottle . As I was a woman, I reckoned it to be a little more difficult to get to my urine while swimming in the ocean.
I decided to take a little sip of water every hour. "I hope this will be enough to survive," I tried to encourage myself.
Courage was something I had developed as a member of my clique of boys, my pack, despite my mother's exaggerated care and overprotective attitude – even though it took me quite a while.
°
I caught up on everything in my 'wild years'. The adventures with an ice ax and crampons at the 45 to 65 degree steep wall of ice in the Alps, the extreme powder snow skiing, the backpacking and sailing trips around the world. I intensely and excessively acted out what my mother forbade me to do later in my life. I also - and especially – caught up on the sexual experiences. But before this could happen, there was still an obstacle that needed to be overcome: my mother. Even a German aunt of mine was not able to overcome this obstacle, but she endeared herself to me when she yelled at my grandmother, mother and prudish aunts:
"You can produce one kid after another like on an assembly line, but my ten-year-old son knows more about sex and love than you do!"
Boy, I really had a hard time trying not to burst into laughter back then.
In the meantime I had turned twenty. I had had countless cocks in my hand and jerked them like a million times , but was still a virgin. After a ski tour, and some mulled wine and Jagertee in a mountain cabin, my German aunt thought that I had lost my inhibitions to the extent that a colleague of hers could assume the role of a male courtesan. Strictly speaking, it was a friend of her daughter.
Man, it had been freezing cold when we went skiing that day in the Grail Valley Mountains. Temperature had fallen to about minus 25 degrees Celsius. This really called for the charm and magic of mountain huts and relaxing in a cozy, warm place around an open fire. We wanted to warm up our stomachs too. We had some Jagertee and several glasses of mulled wine, hence we had a jolly time. Even I could enjoy the attention I got from my conquest after I had lost all my inhibitions because of alcohol. My mother had stayed in the valley and was now far away from the scene. My aunt and my cousin had planned to loosen me up first with alcohol and a romantic atmosphere in the mountain cabin and then to seduce me later at the hotel. Everything went according to plan.
Even though I was an excellent skier, I almost immobilized myself first. I had taken a tumble, probably due to the unaccustomed amount of alcohol I had consumed, and landed on my back, right on top of a broken hazelnut branch that got stuck between my vagina and anus. Just a few millimeters more to the front and I would probably have been deflowered and bled to death. When it came to accidents, I've always been quite lucky.
°
This thought somehow gave me hope, even now as I was drifting in the ocean.
Whoever was pulling the strings up there in the universe must have been planning something special for me, considering all the times I have been able to beat the grim reaper.
°
Somehow my 'Casanova' and I got down to the village and caught the train at the last moment. Unfortunately, we took the train in the wrong direction. After a long odyssey, we finally reached the hotel where my conquest was staying. My aunt was already lying in bed, boozed out of her mind and being tortured by my mother with questions about her missing darling daughter. My aunt's response was only giggling and laughter.
"Tonight it happens – it happens tonight!" And further: "Fucking, sucking, cock-a-licking! Hahahaha, hihihihhihi, seduced tonight, she'll get fucked, yes, that is exactly right!"
You could not have said anything worse or crueler to my mother. In the meantime I had sneaked into my cousin's room with my conqueror.
Yes, I sneaked in, because I did not want to run into my 'avenging angel'-mother under any circumstances. Not when I had the prospect of getting an erotic lesson. I was ready – so was my mother!
Like a fury, she had dashed through the entire hotel, looking for her daughter. I don't think I have to go into any more details about this episode. We had to leave the hotel room and flee to a sympathetic relative's place. I still don't dare to set foot in this hotel again.
°
Luckily, I started working as a ski instructor at age 22, as many students do during the winter months. Since I needed the money and used it to finance most of my education, my mother had no objections. She obviously wasn't aware of the risks that this part-time job entailed for girls.
God, just think how many men and even girls I could have banged at that time. The tourists mainly wanted to have fun. I, however, took my ski instruction tasks very seriously. My innocence was a hard nut to crack for countless willing ski bunnies. Among them were many married men with families, who would have loved to seduce me right on the dance floor.
I didn't know how to act, and it was not until the head of the ski school gave me a serious warning that I finally woke up.
"Rebecca, if things go on like this, I have to dismiss you."
I was devastated – I had tried so hard after all.
"The young men in your group want to have more fun."
"Really? I thought they wanted to learn how to ski."
He looked at me and shook his head in disbelief !
"Besides, you shouldn't do such a good job with the rest of the tourists, either. They are learning too fast how to ski well. But we want to have them as customers the following years as well!"
That's what you get for being too serious.
It was only with Mark that I finally opened my eyes, and that was after I had watched the hustle and bustle on the slopes and particularly paid attention to the après ski for some weeks. My boss at the ski school had told me to do that. So I watched it all from the sidelines, so to speak. Especially the " après" after the après ski was a new and very interesting territory for me .
Mark was tall and athletically built ; a very attractive , lively and cheerful ski bunny. He was actually the most talented skier in my group, but still lagged behind everyone else because he kept falling and landing on his butt a lot. Until I took the liberty of asking him one day:
"Mark, I know that you're the best in my group – how come you are constantly lying in the snow?"
Then he would pretend to be so clumsy that I had to help him get up again in order not to keep the rest of the group waiting.
"You don't understand a thing!" was his answer. He was looking fiercely into my eyes .
"What's there to understand? And what is your girlfriend going to think, if you constantly lie in my arms?" Whenever he got up, he always let himself fall into my arms with zest. He shook his head in disbelief and fell right back into the snow.
"I want you, you naïve mountain witch!" was his answer.
"What is it that he sees in me?" I wondered.
He was obviously very serious about it. That very day, Mark gave my brothers enough money to spend a long evening with plenty of beer in the après ski bar. In return, Jo and Werner were supposed to kidnap his girlfriend and get her drunk. I still had to learn a lot. Mark wanted to get out of the bar and into a bed as soon as possible.
"And do not come back too soon! That should be enough for five hours at least!"
"Help, help! What's he up to?" I felt sorry for the girl too, although I wished with all my heart for my brothers to have an exciting experience with an open-minded tourist girl.
Mark was up to a lot of things! And I still had to learn a lot of things.
Luckily, there was a loud celebration going on at my house, where both my family and the German tourists were having a great time. My father had always enjoyed entertaining our guests. On these evenings, even my parents forgot about their worries and played happy music with the tourists, who had become friends of my family in the meantime. I smuggled my conquest through the backyard into my room on the ground floor. The house construction project was almost finished by then. Finally, after fourteen years of living on a construction site, we had several more rooms at our disposal.
We had hardly reached the room, when Mark pulled the ski instructors sweater over my head. The shirt I was wearing underneath lost some buttons as he forcefully ripped it off my chest. My now freed breasts were eager for more. Mark had already started peeling off my jeans. It did not take him too long. Seconds later, he was kneeling before me and put his hands on my panties. Moments later, he had successfully peeled me out of my underwear.
He had very soft hands and he knew very well how to use them. He kissed my vagina lips, licking on the honey which now flowed out of my pussy like a mountain spring. My mouth was half-open and I was trembling all over my body. He fumbled at his belt now and it only took him a few seconds to get undressed and fling his jeans on the floor. He had to hurry even more to get rid of his slip because I was so hungry for his body. As soon as he was naked, I jumped onto him, wrapped my legs around his waist and one arm around his neck, and slowly let myself sink onto his hard, throbbing dick. With his free hand, Mark skillfully led his dick into me. Finally, finally, after the unnecessarily long time I had had to wait for it to happen, I felt a cock in me at last.
"Help! Ooohhh... my God!"
He was so deep inside me that it thrilled and scared me the same time…
My screams that accompanied our orgasms were later drowned out by German beer-drinking songs.
"Warum ist es am Rhein so schön?" resounded from the adjoining rooms. Well, we didn't really care why it was so nice to be at the Rhine river. "Why is banging sooo fine?" Mark sang along in his sexual ecstasy instead. I turned his back into a battlefield with my fingernails. Afterwards, he looked like an Opus Dei monk after self-mutilation. These monks inflict pain to themselves by torturing their backs with special whips until they are covered with bloody welts.
Later, I discovered that throughout the centuries, there had been several religious movements in which monks flagellated themselves before going to bed under the guise of religious ecstasy.
Even outside monasteries, this spiritual martyrdom became fashionable. There were soon hundreds of locations in Europe where flagellation was practiced in order to experience pleasure and joy through pain. Even kings and princesses apparently had themselves whipped by slaves.
In my case, the whip was replaced by my fingernails, the claws of an extremely pleasurable and greedy witch . After my "treatment", Mark's back probably looked like the one of these religious fanatics. He, however, got more pleasure out of his erotic ecstasy than he got out of the pain I had afflicted to him. Or could it have been both?
At any rate, my brothers were rolling on the floor with laughter when they treated his back with arnica schnapps hours later. And Mark couldn't even cry out in pain, because that would have led my mother to discovering the battlefield.
Mark spent a lot more money on beer for my brothers and his girlfriend. They had a lot of fun with Mark's girlfriend, who had wild sex with all of my three brothers in unrestrained, animalistic lust.
The next times, Mark tied my hands to the bed poles – just as a precaution until his back had somewhat recovered at last. And I liked it even better. Although I was young and rather inexperienced, I found out very quickly exactly what I wanted, and I enjoyed my very empathetic teacher of lust a lot.
After only a short time, I surprised Mark with my instructions. "Suck on my toes! Yes, that feels so good… and now kiss the inside of my lower leg, slowly moving upwards from the ankle – hey , I said slowly! Do you like the taste ? Yeah, that's nice… Take your time . Oohhhh , yeah, that feels so good . And now continue on the outside of my thighs, up to the hips. Yes, ooohhh yes, you may even bite me a bit. Do you feel how my skin is getting warmer? Yes, just like that… and now suck my fingers . Oh, I love that too! Now nibble on the inside of my forearm, and then move up towards my shoulder. Do you like the taste? Does it make you horny? Hhhmmm, you're so good at this… Now do the same with my neck. Take care; my skin is very sensitive there! Yeah , that feels so good! And now go on behind my ears. Slowly , I want you to enjoy it! Yes, ooohh yes, this feels amazing! Hey, and what about the other side? Well done, I love your soft lips… Now you may slowly kiss me from the neck towards my breasts. Kiss me everywhere! Yes! Ooohh, that's nice! Well done, but take your time! And now trail feather-light kisses around my breasts. No! Not the nipples yet ! I said around the breasts only . You can also caress me. Yes, this feels so…nice! I could spend hours enjoying this. OK, now the nipples – suck on them very carefully . Yes, do you feel them react to it? Do you feel how much I love it ? Circle with your tongue around them . Yes, ohhh yes, you're doing this well! Now take my nipples between palate and tongue and pull gently . Yes, quite a bit more! Exactly so! Oooh that's good. Please stop right there, otherwise I will come right now! Can you turn me around? Yes ? OK, that's fine! And now run your fingers all over my back. Yes , tickle me ; caress me , ooohh I feel like I am melting away! Kiss my neck ! Yes, quite a bit more intensely . You may also bite me. Oohhh yes , and now kiss me all over my back , yes, everywhere, yes, you are my sex god, ooohhh yes, this is so amazing! I can't take it any longer! Do you like my butt cheeks? Take them with both hands and run your fingers along them. Massage them . Perfect, you're a real Casanova! Rest one hand on each one and slowly circle around my two coconuts with. This is awesome!"
I had somehow freed myself from the handcuffs, turned on my back, took his head and pushed it down between my legs. "Slowly trail kisses up on the inside of my thighs. Yes, oh yes, yes, yes – ooohhh! Do you feel the heat? Oh yeah! My honey is already flowing in streams. Do you like the taste? Yes? Ooohh my treasure! Lick me dry. Slowly, slowly, not too close to my pussy! Very slowly. Stay away a bit; there is enough honey to lick. Yes, a little bit around it! Well done! Ooohh my God. Now let your tongue slowly circle around my vagina lips and then slowly up and down! Yes, take your time. This feels good! Play with the lips! Ooohh my God! Now nibble very carefully on them. Yes, do it gently, very gently and carefully! Circle slowly around my bud with your tongue! Please do not bite it, just circle around it slowly! Ooohhh yes! Ooohhh Mark, this is amazing. Take the bud between your lips. Suck it. Be careful, it is very sensitive! Yes, exactly like that! Yes, yes, yes! Slowly, please, I do not want to come yet! Slowly, gently, yes, ohhh yes! Now run your tongue very gently from the bottom up to the bud! Yes! And again, and again, yes, oohhh yes, do not stop, keep going!"
Mark's breathing got harder and harder, I could feel him stretching his legs as his thighs began to tremble and vibrate more and more! Where was this going?
"Push your tongue in my pleasure garden! Push harder! Yes, push!"
He could no longer control himself now. His dick became an animal and he was on me and inside me within a moment. And I cried out, and cried and cried and whimpered and sighed and sobbed. And now he cried too! Why on earth hadn't he controlled the shackles better? Oh no, his back! At the same moment he cried much louder and filled my glowing volcano with his hot juices. And Mark shrugged and shook for a second time and bit into my neck. Now my glowing cave seemed to be a spring. Splashes and sprays, and a crystal clear liquid shoot in oodles out of my cave and on his fiery hot lance. We both were shaking with laughter.
Hours later, when my brothers joined us for a beer, they were physically messed up and sucked dry. Mark's girlfriend was no longer able to stand on her own two feet after riding on all three of them wildly and had collapsed into her bed, she apparently was very tired. Well, it wasn't for no reason that my mother had wanted to protect us from tourists!
One of the main reasons for the jealousy of the women of the valley was probably the fact that girls from big cities in Germany like Mark's girlfriend were raised to be independent. They were encouraged to become successful professionals, study at the university and altogether be self-confident.
Here in the mountains, however, women still had to lead a miserable mother-housewife existence that included nothing but raising kids, cooking, cleaning, washing, sewing or knitting. Self-realization and lust were not actually part of the plan. So I guess it is somewhat understandable that these women tended to get jealous of the permissive female tourists from abroad.
°
Much later in my life, I learned that there are female and male brains which have evolved differently. And I'm not talking about the geographical differences or the differing social influences that we usually tend to notice in our youth. Generally speaking, these differences are meant to ensure survival.
If only I had known back then that this results in unintelligible, dramatic, sometimes sheer brutal differences between men and women in relationships. That was the fight, the difference between two sexes, which actually cannot get together and will never understand each other.
My female imagination was so fundamentally different from the male one that most men just did not want to even try to understand it.
The male mind sometimes causes strong discomfort, not only in me, but in most women. That may irritate us women at first, but it can also lead up to contempt. In contrast, most men cannot properly handle the romantic, sophisticated sensibility and sensitivity of women. Especially if they hide it behind the facade of a wild cat and witch as I did because I did not want to get hurt. All of the men in my life were just utterly overwhelmed.
When a man looks at a woman, first and foremost, the male eye perceives her butt, breasts and pleasure garden – which means, in other words, that men are particularly visually and genital-oriented. This is also reflected in their love for cars with erotic designs like Ferrari, Jaguar, or Aston Martin. Next to power, the visual part always plays a major role.
The skin as a sensitive organ or erotic zone has, however, hardly been recognized by men. It simply does not cross their minds, and even if it is pointed out, they consider caresses unmanly and therefore they remain inactive. In this case, I have always had an advantage over my female competitors. Since I had grown up with guys, I knew how to demand insightfully and eloquently and without any shyness from men what made me happy.
