The woman's voice on the phone sounded firm and determined, the name according to noble family and history. “My name is Olivia von Horft. Am I speaking to Wulff Triebsch? ”
“ Yes, on the phone. How can I help you? ”
“ You were recommended to me. You repair antique clocks,
don't you ? ” “ Yes, I'm a precision mechanic, ”I explained.
“I have an old heirloom from my grandfather's time, an old pendulum clock, a grandfather clock. It doesn't work anymore. To be honest, I've never heard them beat and tick before. Can you come and see you? ”
“ That is possible. Where can I find them?"
“In the courtyard in the west of the city. I'll have you picked up. Let's say 3pm tomorrow. Then I'll be here too. ”- I gave her the address of my workshop in the city center and my telephone number in case something should come up.
Punctually at 3 p.m. the next day, a VW Phaeton stopped in front of my workshop. The driver put my toolbox in the trunk of the car and asked me to sit in the back seat. While driving, I watched her in the rearview mirror. It was an attractive woman, a friendly face, alert eyes that looked me over and over again. At one point she even seemed to smile at me.
We crossed the city and after half an hour stopped in front of a gate that opened up a driveway to a larger inner courtyard of the castle complex. The driver drove the vehicle in front of the main entrance of the castle house, where a tall, slim woman was already waiting. The driver introduced me: "Herr Triebsch, Frau Countess."
The two women communicated with a long look; the countess even winked briefly at the driver as if she were thanking her. I had noticed both, and for the first time it occurred to me that I had not been called in here to repair a clockwork.
The Countess stopped on the upper step, but from there she held out both hands in greeting. As I walked slowly up the steps to her, I could take a closer look at her: she was wearing a dark pants suit and a light gray high-necked blouse; She had her tight hair tied in a bun at the back. The glasses were much too big for her face and gave the countess something masculine, at least something aloof.
When I got to the top step, I noticed that she was taller than me. I estimated her age at 40, maybe she was younger. Her appearance was by no means as flawless as I had imagined from the bottom step: I discovered small wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, and even a wart below her right nostril. Two dark red pimples dominated her left cheek.
The Countess pointed to a large entrance hall, which we crossed and walked up a wide stone staircase to the first floor. We turned into a hallway here until we stopped in front of an alcove. "Here is my gem, without a gong and without ticking."
I stood in front of a large grandfather clock, which I looked at from all sides. The wood of the case was mahogany, inside everything was covered with mirrors; even the dial was made of mirrored glass. I opened the case door and examined the clockwork.
"That still looks pretty good: the weights, the mechanics ..."
"Money doesn't matter. I just need someone who knows how to start my clockwork again. ”
She hesitated and looked at me, embarrassed. “I don't want to put myself in the hands of anyone. Can you repair something like this for me here on site? "
I wondered about her strange formulations, which didn’t fit the watch, any more, and I remembered the looks the driver and countess had exchanged when I arrived. I looked thoughtfully at the countess.
“Fixing it here makes too much mess. I have to remove your clockwork and take it to my workshop. ”
“ Do you mind if I watch it? ”She asked.
"No, no!" I said, opened my tool case and began to detach the clock mechanism from its holder. Her eyes did not leave my hands. She followed my every move, every move, with her eyes. I carefully pulled out the clock mechanism and carefully set it down on a cloth at the floor of the hallway to take a first look at the state.
"It still looks pretty good," I remarked. “We'll get it back quickly. You will see! ”The Countess nodded happily. "Then I'm in the best of hands with you." This time she even blushed.
"Only these two gears still worry me." I groped the two parts out of their anchoring and carefully placed them in the palm of my hand, as if I wanted to protect them from further harm. She took my hand and brought it very close to her glasses so that she could look at them.
"Look, this gear can no longer penetrate deep enough into its counterpart and set it in motion."
"Yes," she said, "I see, both have to fit together and one has to be able to penetrate deeply enough into the other." She was still holding my hand and took one of the gears between her fingers.
“You need sensitivity and no strength for such a job, you don't,” she wanted to know. Only now did she release my hand.
I put the two gears back into the clockwork and kicked the pendulum. We heard a loud ticking. I pushed a pointer further; a gong rang on the hour.
“My God, she's going again and this wonderful sound. Like hearing the scream of a newborn child. ”The countess held both hands over her mouth in delight, but then stepped closer to me so that we were almost touching. I sensed the warmth of her body and a faint smell of sweat that betrayed her excitement.
"Can you take a break too?" She whispered to me.
"Yes, but I want to wash my hands first." She pointed to a side door through which we entered a small adjoining room.
“You can also find soap and a towel there. - Then you toast your successful work with me! Do you like champagne? "
On a dresser next to the sink, I noticed two glasses and a bottle, as if they had been waiting for us here. She handed me a glass, which I drank in one gulp. Only now did I notice how close she was to me again, almost snuggling up to me. She turned her face so close to me that I thought she was waiting to be kissed.
She seemed to have guessed my thoughts: "No kisses, please!", She explained in a harsh tone and took my left hand, held it up in front of my eyes and crossed her fingers between mine. A clear gesture, an invitation to more than just a kiss.
She put two fingers of her other hand reassuringly on my lips, two damp fingers that didn't smell of champagne, were tasteless, maybe a little too salty. I reflexively kissed those two fingers that she still pressed to my lips, replacing her cheek, her mouth, which I shouldn't kiss.
I took her fingers between my lips, kissing each finger one at a time, and meaningfully dipping it into my mouth. She even allowed me to do that and with a gentle smile and a clear look at our interlaced fingers gave me to understand that she would also grant me other wishes.
"But not here," she said in a whisper and looked around. - "There!" She pointed to a door further to the left. "In the mirror room," she said, opened the door and asked me to come in. I looked around in amazement. Mirror after mirror adorned the walls; Mirrors of all sizes, in portrait and landscape format. They were all aimed at one point, a double bed in the middle of the room.
“This is my mirror room. I collect such mirrors. Incidentally, the watch also belongs to this collection. Your seat remains outside in the hallway because of the loud ticking, you understand. "
The countess stopped in front of the double bed. I stepped behind her, unable to resist the temptation to touch her neck again, press my lips to him. She turned around again, holding both of her fingers over my mouth again. "Psst!", She said and "Please, don't kiss, my dear, no kiss!" Her gaze replaced the exclamation mark behind her warning.
My eyes wandered to the mirrors on the walls and lost themselves in an infinite space. I recognized many people moving in lockstep in an endless line. Their bodies bent and straightened up again. I saw Olivia von Horft in umpteen copies, how she now took off her jacket, put it on a stool next to the bed, then unbuttoned her blouse. Thousands of women in front of me took off their bra, gave me a view of endlessly repeated breasts, flat breasts that betrayed their youth, but their buds protruded like steep mountain peaks.
Olivia von Horft turned her bare back to me. Why can't I kiss you, Olivia? Allow me just one kiss, just one! She sensed my thoughts, looked at me disapprovingly as a precaution. “No, I said! You have sensitive hands and many other things that do me good. But please no kisses! ”
She pressed the back of her hand on my cheek, caressed it gently, pressed two of her fingers onto my mouth again, which I greedily grasped with my lips as a substitute for the kisses I was not allowed to give her did not give me. She took her fingers from my mouth but kept her watchful gaze on me.
I looked again in the mirrors around me: whatever I looked into, I always saw Olivia von Horft, her slim body, her bare shoulders and neck, the dark hair that she had loosened. It fell past her shoulders onto her breasts. She had long since taken off her glasses. Without it, she looked more feminine.
My gaze was on her lap, which was spanned by skimpy, flesh-colored, skin-tight panties that inadequately covered a regular bush of pubic hairs that propagated up to the base of the stomach and on the inside of her thighs. Finally she slipped her panties off her knees and feet and stood naked in front of me.
"Do you want to go to bed in that elevator?" She disturbed my thoughts.
Never before had I opened my belt so quickly, taken off my trousers and shirt, threw shoes and stockings under the bed. The Countess herself took off my underpants, and for the first time brushed my stiff member with one hand, which reared into a tense rod under her touch and bobbed in front of her eyes. She examined it closely. I couldn't miss her worry lines on her forehead and between her eyes and wondered what else she'd expected. Is it a larger member, a thicker one, a longer one, or all of the above? I couldn't find an explanation for their worries. I wasn't impotent, she could see that clearly.
The countess was already kneeling in bed and holding out both hands to me.
"On my back!", She instructed me immediately and cupped my erect member with one hand. She paused, seemed to be still thinking, brooding, and stroked the dark red crown of my glans with one fingertip and then with her clenched hand down the long shaft to my pubic hairs; she stroked my cheek with the other, for reassurance, I assumed. I shouldn't worry. She made it. - Why? She crouched in front of me, spread her thighs a little before my eyes and looked down, embarrassed:
“A lot of things are out of order in there, too, my love, like my grandfather clock. I hope you know what to do there without taking me to your workshop, ”she explained and cast an expectant look at my stiff member, which she assumed would soon start working in her lap. We sank into a pillow, our cheeks touching. I felt the wart on her upper lip, my chest bumped against her breasts, my penis throbbed against her lap, my lips approached her mouth.
"No, don't!" She asked me again. "You should feel it, nothing more!" For further explanation she took my hand and led it down to the dense forest of her pubic hair, pushed it through until they reached their destination: her labia.
"Now you can feel for yourself how tight it has become in there," she said and stroked my hand, which was supposed to detect her physical inadequacy: her tightness that blocked the way inside behind her open gate. But my fingers hadn't gotten that far. First they felt her labia, which felt as delicate and soft as flower petals, but also surprisingly dry. I slipped my fingertips through, felt my way forward into her crack, felt the dryness here too and, after a few winding movements, the narrowness of which she had spoken.
I withdrew my fingers, felt in the thicket of her hair for her clit, which felt round and hard like a pea. I grabbed it between my thumb and forefinger, pressed, rubbed, massaged it, again and again and harder. Now this ravine had to become damp in the count's lap, a fine rain poured into this withered cave. But Olivia von Horft showed no emotion and her lap felt as dry as ever.
When I stopped my research between her thighs in disappointment, she turned her head to one side with a deep sigh. We both sat up helplessly in bed and looked at each other, just as the finally many couples in the mirrors did. She cupped both of my hands in hers, stroked them and placed them on her cheeks. "Did you feel how tight I am?" She asked. - “Yes,” I said, “and how dry.” I hid my doubts that I could do anything about it. She removed her hands from mine and dropped them between my thighs.
“Look!” She said, staring at my soaring member between her hands, “how much you can be aroused. I admire you. How you do that?"
"I'm thinking of something that excites me," I explained. - "And what about?", She wanted to know, took my member in one hand, leaned over it and gently caressed the crown of my glans with her tongue. "For example now?" - I told her, already panting excitedly, of my sexual fantasies, that I flooded a woman's lap with waves of ****** from my member, and afterwards saw my semen between her thighs as a bubbling spring flowed back into daylight.
“A fantastic story that I hope is true,” she said. "And it seems to be working well for you, as I can see." She passed my penis to her other hand and pressed it to her breast-buds, like a small child who was to be breastfed with the milk from her breasts, to her small, flat breasts, that any child would die of thirst if left as dry as the passage between her thighs.
This thought excited me very much and I felt that I was about to come, no matter where, in her mouth, on her breasts, in her hand or on her thighs, repeated a thousand times in the mirrors around us. I felt the tide contracting into my body, how tightly she clasped my member with her hand as the first beam shot out of me with a shiver, followed by a second, a third. Dazed, I fell back on the bed, still gasping for breath, as the countess cupped my face with both hands. "Are you okay, my love?" She asked worried.
"Yes, everything is fine," I told her, still panting heavily. She stroked my cheeks with her hands, ran over my chest and stomach, deeper, until her hands reached my member again, at which she was staring. "How does it feel when you ... have an orgasm?" She wanted to know.
"I can't think of anything else but your hands and the floods ... and I wake up as if from a swoon, feeling dazed" I used the 'you' for the first time and looked at her in astonishment. "Have you never had an orgasm?" I wanted to know.
She smiled sheepishly: “You only imagined your floods. In reality there were only a few splashes. Look! ”She searched her body. Only between her breasts had two shiny f ***** neducated. She saw a third one on her stomach. There was nothing more. The two drops of semen between her breasts she spread over her flat breasts to her buds, the bright ****** f ***** n on her belly to the navel.
She looked down at the bush of hair in her lap and fished a drop from her pubic hair with two fingers that she had not yet discovered.
"This is for you," she said and put two fingers on my mouth. I tasted my own seed, how salty it was, how spicy it tasted, like black currants, I imagined.
"But that's more than enough for me," she explained, staring at me with wide eyes.
"Sufficient for what?" I asked, but got no answer. She got up. "We'll continue working tomorrow," she explained. "... You will come back tomorrow, won't you?" Her voice betrayed concern; I nodded.
“You will be picked up again. If you think it necessary, you can also take care of my grandfather clock. ”
To say goodbye, she put her fingers on my mouth again. “And no kiss, my love ... and don't expect love. Everything else is always welcome, especially your hands! "
When we went back into the mirrored room the next day, she folded her fingers in mine and kneaded them as a sign of readiness. I returned her movements. My eyes immediately fell on a table next to the bed on which there was a bowl with a pale yellow liquid. - "Olive oil", she explained to me. "I'll show you right away," she said and told me to wait for her in bed. I watched her undress, together with the infinite number of women in the mirrors, until they all stood in front of me in these skin-tight, flesh-colored panties, which she slowly peeled off.
"You'll see how helpful olive oil can be," she said, dipping two of her fingers into the oil and holding them over my mouth. "That tastes better than your seed, doesn't it?"
She crouched in bed next to me. “Caress my back with the olive oil!” She asked me.
I dipped my fingertips into the bowl, then the whole palm of my hand, and let the first drops of olive oil fall onto her back. They ran down it and left a glistening trail on which the oil soon reached their butt groove. My fingers followed this trail, catching up with the drops that would have disappeared in her pink rosette in the middle of her bottom if I hadn't got them back with my finger. She seemed to enjoy the game of my hands, even leaned forward and stretched her buttocks towards my hands.
I circled her soft rosette with one finger, collected olive oil from the buttocks and let it run into the rosette, which opened in front of me and offered a passage for my thumb, which I now gently drilled into her for the first time. The countess began to move her bottom in circular movements, with which she determined how deep I could penetrate her. She pulled her bottom together, squeezed my thumb, but immediately released it so he could continue his game.
"Olive oil is really helpful, isn't it?" She gasped as she released my thumb from her rosette, turned around and looked at me for a long time. In a firm voice she explained: "... but unfortunately you don't have children like that!"
I stared at her with wide eyes and open mouth in horror. She stroked my cheek with one hand and looked at me thoughtfully, waiting. "Do you mind if we father a child?" She asked with a sigh.
I still looked at her in disbelief. She got up and went to a dresser with two glasses and a bottle of champagne on it.
"Would you like a drink?" She asked. I nodded, drank the glass of champagne in one gulp and handed it to her. She poured me another one.
"Do you really want a child ..." I asked.
"Do not worry. Nobody will know. Not even your wife. We will not make any claims. It is supposed to be a little Count von Horft. My husband ... unfortunately he cannot ... "
"The watch repair was just an excuse, wasn't it?" I explained. - She nodded.
"I love your gentle hands, your tender fingers," she explained, "... and that there!" She pointed to my penis.
I shook my head. She loved all of that. But that she loved 'me' did not come out of her lips, and now I suspected what was so much worse than my busy fingers and my penis in her lap: kisses, as a sign of deep affection, a sign of love! - No, she didn't want love. That was probably something completely different from what she had planned: to father a child with me.
"You're coming back tomorrow, won't you?" She looked at me almost pleadingly. - I kept silent.
I came back the very next day! She led me back into the mirror room, where she slowly undressed in front of the mirrors until she stood naked in front of me. I looked at the thousand women in the mirrors around us whom I was supposed to impregnate, whom I was supposed to have children. I was glad that there would only be one child and not thousands.
She pulled me onto the bed in the middle and pressed my back on the bed under her. The countess dipped her hand into the oil bowl. An infinite number of women around us took hold of my penis, massaged it with oil until it rose shiny and straight. She kissed the tip of my member. "With olive oil it slides through any tightness."
She sat astride my lap and looked at me expectantly. "What are you thinking about now?"
"I imagine my member would be a geyser on which your lap rides, which is about to shoot floods of ****** in there." She sighed, lifted her lap and let it slide gently over the 'geyser' . I pushed it in with a gentle push until I felt the resistance of her tightness. With an extra push, I slipped through and penetrated deep into her, accompanied by an unmistakable sigh from Olivia.
"Please, your geyser, I'm waiting for your geyser," she breathed with her eyes closed.
We repeated this game several times until we had found a common rhythm, until I felt that it was beginning to boil in the depths of my geyser. Olivia held my penis deep in her lap clutching, when finally the first Fontaine its spray in her lap ******* s I imagined, a second and third followed, and to have fathered a child.
For a week we 'repaired' the Countess's 'clockwork' every afternoon, until one day she asked me into a drawing room, where I saw the grandfather clock on a wall. The countess looked at me for a long time through her glasses with wide eyes and then explained: “It is now ticking perfectly and the gong will soon sound too. Thanks again! ”She turned around as if to leave the parlor. "I hope there are no misunderstandings between us."
"No!" I said hesitantly. “There are no misunderstandings between us, Frau Countess.”
“Then we understood each other!” She stepped to a side door, paused for a moment in front of the clock, watched the swing of the pendulum with a smile and walked on. I looked after her and saw that she was running a hand over her stomach.
"The car is ready," I heard the voice behind me.
When the driver drove me back home, she stopped in the middle of town and asked if she could take me over for a cup of coffee.
"Yes," I said.
She walked ahead of me into a café, where she put on sunglasses as if she didn't want to be recognized.
“You know that the countess is married?” - “No, she didn't tell me that.”
“With a rich 72-year-old blind businessman who pays her maintenance for the courtyard. She herself has no income and cannot pay anything. Don't expect to get paid to fix the watch. You have already been paid, as I could see. "
She looked at me for a long time and interlaced the fingers of her two hands in front of my eyes.
"What did you observe?" The driver looked to the side, embarrassed.
“There was a niche from which you could see everything. At least this way, her husband wanted to be there when his offspring was conceived. I had to describe everything to him. ”
I wanted to get up and leave, but she held me back. We were silent for a while, then she leaned closer to me. “Your neighboring house is up for sale, as I have seen. I am looking for such a house for myself and my partner. Do you know the owner or the seller? ”
“ If you drop me off at home, you can write down the address of the agent. The sign with the name is right next to the front door. "
When we returned, she only glanced at the house next door. She seemed to have made a decision a long time ago. "I think we'll take this house," she explained, looking at me with a smile and a wink. “With neighbors like that,” she whispered to me.
“ Yes, on the phone. How can I help you? ”
“ You were recommended to me. You repair antique clocks,
don't you ? ” “ Yes, I'm a precision mechanic, ”I explained.
“I have an old heirloom from my grandfather's time, an old pendulum clock, a grandfather clock. It doesn't work anymore. To be honest, I've never heard them beat and tick before. Can you come and see you? ”
“ That is possible. Where can I find them?"
“In the courtyard in the west of the city. I'll have you picked up. Let's say 3pm tomorrow. Then I'll be here too. ”- I gave her the address of my workshop in the city center and my telephone number in case something should come up.
Punctually at 3 p.m. the next day, a VW Phaeton stopped in front of my workshop. The driver put my toolbox in the trunk of the car and asked me to sit in the back seat. While driving, I watched her in the rearview mirror. It was an attractive woman, a friendly face, alert eyes that looked me over and over again. At one point she even seemed to smile at me.
We crossed the city and after half an hour stopped in front of a gate that opened up a driveway to a larger inner courtyard of the castle complex. The driver drove the vehicle in front of the main entrance of the castle house, where a tall, slim woman was already waiting. The driver introduced me: "Herr Triebsch, Frau Countess."
The two women communicated with a long look; the countess even winked briefly at the driver as if she were thanking her. I had noticed both, and for the first time it occurred to me that I had not been called in here to repair a clockwork.
The Countess stopped on the upper step, but from there she held out both hands in greeting. As I walked slowly up the steps to her, I could take a closer look at her: she was wearing a dark pants suit and a light gray high-necked blouse; She had her tight hair tied in a bun at the back. The glasses were much too big for her face and gave the countess something masculine, at least something aloof.
When I got to the top step, I noticed that she was taller than me. I estimated her age at 40, maybe she was younger. Her appearance was by no means as flawless as I had imagined from the bottom step: I discovered small wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, and even a wart below her right nostril. Two dark red pimples dominated her left cheek.
The Countess pointed to a large entrance hall, which we crossed and walked up a wide stone staircase to the first floor. We turned into a hallway here until we stopped in front of an alcove. "Here is my gem, without a gong and without ticking."
I stood in front of a large grandfather clock, which I looked at from all sides. The wood of the case was mahogany, inside everything was covered with mirrors; even the dial was made of mirrored glass. I opened the case door and examined the clockwork.
"That still looks pretty good: the weights, the mechanics ..."
"Money doesn't matter. I just need someone who knows how to start my clockwork again. ”
She hesitated and looked at me, embarrassed. “I don't want to put myself in the hands of anyone. Can you repair something like this for me here on site? "
I wondered about her strange formulations, which didn’t fit the watch, any more, and I remembered the looks the driver and countess had exchanged when I arrived. I looked thoughtfully at the countess.
“Fixing it here makes too much mess. I have to remove your clockwork and take it to my workshop. ”
“ Do you mind if I watch it? ”She asked.
"No, no!" I said, opened my tool case and began to detach the clock mechanism from its holder. Her eyes did not leave my hands. She followed my every move, every move, with her eyes. I carefully pulled out the clock mechanism and carefully set it down on a cloth at the floor of the hallway to take a first look at the state.
"It still looks pretty good," I remarked. “We'll get it back quickly. You will see! ”The Countess nodded happily. "Then I'm in the best of hands with you." This time she even blushed.
"Only these two gears still worry me." I groped the two parts out of their anchoring and carefully placed them in the palm of my hand, as if I wanted to protect them from further harm. She took my hand and brought it very close to her glasses so that she could look at them.
"Look, this gear can no longer penetrate deep enough into its counterpart and set it in motion."
"Yes," she said, "I see, both have to fit together and one has to be able to penetrate deeply enough into the other." She was still holding my hand and took one of the gears between her fingers.
“You need sensitivity and no strength for such a job, you don't,” she wanted to know. Only now did she release my hand.
I put the two gears back into the clockwork and kicked the pendulum. We heard a loud ticking. I pushed a pointer further; a gong rang on the hour.
“My God, she's going again and this wonderful sound. Like hearing the scream of a newborn child. ”The countess held both hands over her mouth in delight, but then stepped closer to me so that we were almost touching. I sensed the warmth of her body and a faint smell of sweat that betrayed her excitement.
"Can you take a break too?" She whispered to me.
"Yes, but I want to wash my hands first." She pointed to a side door through which we entered a small adjoining room.
“You can also find soap and a towel there. - Then you toast your successful work with me! Do you like champagne? "
On a dresser next to the sink, I noticed two glasses and a bottle, as if they had been waiting for us here. She handed me a glass, which I drank in one gulp. Only now did I notice how close she was to me again, almost snuggling up to me. She turned her face so close to me that I thought she was waiting to be kissed.
She seemed to have guessed my thoughts: "No kisses, please!", She explained in a harsh tone and took my left hand, held it up in front of my eyes and crossed her fingers between mine. A clear gesture, an invitation to more than just a kiss.
She put two fingers of her other hand reassuringly on my lips, two damp fingers that didn't smell of champagne, were tasteless, maybe a little too salty. I reflexively kissed those two fingers that she still pressed to my lips, replacing her cheek, her mouth, which I shouldn't kiss.
I took her fingers between my lips, kissing each finger one at a time, and meaningfully dipping it into my mouth. She even allowed me to do that and with a gentle smile and a clear look at our interlaced fingers gave me to understand that she would also grant me other wishes.
"But not here," she said in a whisper and looked around. - "There!" She pointed to a door further to the left. "In the mirror room," she said, opened the door and asked me to come in. I looked around in amazement. Mirror after mirror adorned the walls; Mirrors of all sizes, in portrait and landscape format. They were all aimed at one point, a double bed in the middle of the room.
“This is my mirror room. I collect such mirrors. Incidentally, the watch also belongs to this collection. Your seat remains outside in the hallway because of the loud ticking, you understand. "
The countess stopped in front of the double bed. I stepped behind her, unable to resist the temptation to touch her neck again, press my lips to him. She turned around again, holding both of her fingers over my mouth again. "Psst!", She said and "Please, don't kiss, my dear, no kiss!" Her gaze replaced the exclamation mark behind her warning.
My eyes wandered to the mirrors on the walls and lost themselves in an infinite space. I recognized many people moving in lockstep in an endless line. Their bodies bent and straightened up again. I saw Olivia von Horft in umpteen copies, how she now took off her jacket, put it on a stool next to the bed, then unbuttoned her blouse. Thousands of women in front of me took off their bra, gave me a view of endlessly repeated breasts, flat breasts that betrayed their youth, but their buds protruded like steep mountain peaks.
Olivia von Horft turned her bare back to me. Why can't I kiss you, Olivia? Allow me just one kiss, just one! She sensed my thoughts, looked at me disapprovingly as a precaution. “No, I said! You have sensitive hands and many other things that do me good. But please no kisses! ”
She pressed the back of her hand on my cheek, caressed it gently, pressed two of her fingers onto my mouth again, which I greedily grasped with my lips as a substitute for the kisses I was not allowed to give her did not give me. She took her fingers from my mouth but kept her watchful gaze on me.
I looked again in the mirrors around me: whatever I looked into, I always saw Olivia von Horft, her slim body, her bare shoulders and neck, the dark hair that she had loosened. It fell past her shoulders onto her breasts. She had long since taken off her glasses. Without it, she looked more feminine.
My gaze was on her lap, which was spanned by skimpy, flesh-colored, skin-tight panties that inadequately covered a regular bush of pubic hairs that propagated up to the base of the stomach and on the inside of her thighs. Finally she slipped her panties off her knees and feet and stood naked in front of me.
"Do you want to go to bed in that elevator?" She disturbed my thoughts.
Never before had I opened my belt so quickly, taken off my trousers and shirt, threw shoes and stockings under the bed. The Countess herself took off my underpants, and for the first time brushed my stiff member with one hand, which reared into a tense rod under her touch and bobbed in front of her eyes. She examined it closely. I couldn't miss her worry lines on her forehead and between her eyes and wondered what else she'd expected. Is it a larger member, a thicker one, a longer one, or all of the above? I couldn't find an explanation for their worries. I wasn't impotent, she could see that clearly.
The countess was already kneeling in bed and holding out both hands to me.
"On my back!", She instructed me immediately and cupped my erect member with one hand. She paused, seemed to be still thinking, brooding, and stroked the dark red crown of my glans with one fingertip and then with her clenched hand down the long shaft to my pubic hairs; she stroked my cheek with the other, for reassurance, I assumed. I shouldn't worry. She made it. - Why? She crouched in front of me, spread her thighs a little before my eyes and looked down, embarrassed:
“A lot of things are out of order in there, too, my love, like my grandfather clock. I hope you know what to do there without taking me to your workshop, ”she explained and cast an expectant look at my stiff member, which she assumed would soon start working in her lap. We sank into a pillow, our cheeks touching. I felt the wart on her upper lip, my chest bumped against her breasts, my penis throbbed against her lap, my lips approached her mouth.
"No, don't!" She asked me again. "You should feel it, nothing more!" For further explanation she took my hand and led it down to the dense forest of her pubic hair, pushed it through until they reached their destination: her labia.
"Now you can feel for yourself how tight it has become in there," she said and stroked my hand, which was supposed to detect her physical inadequacy: her tightness that blocked the way inside behind her open gate. But my fingers hadn't gotten that far. First they felt her labia, which felt as delicate and soft as flower petals, but also surprisingly dry. I slipped my fingertips through, felt my way forward into her crack, felt the dryness here too and, after a few winding movements, the narrowness of which she had spoken.
I withdrew my fingers, felt in the thicket of her hair for her clit, which felt round and hard like a pea. I grabbed it between my thumb and forefinger, pressed, rubbed, massaged it, again and again and harder. Now this ravine had to become damp in the count's lap, a fine rain poured into this withered cave. But Olivia von Horft showed no emotion and her lap felt as dry as ever.
When I stopped my research between her thighs in disappointment, she turned her head to one side with a deep sigh. We both sat up helplessly in bed and looked at each other, just as the finally many couples in the mirrors did. She cupped both of my hands in hers, stroked them and placed them on her cheeks. "Did you feel how tight I am?" She asked. - “Yes,” I said, “and how dry.” I hid my doubts that I could do anything about it. She removed her hands from mine and dropped them between my thighs.
“Look!” She said, staring at my soaring member between her hands, “how much you can be aroused. I admire you. How you do that?"
"I'm thinking of something that excites me," I explained. - "And what about?", She wanted to know, took my member in one hand, leaned over it and gently caressed the crown of my glans with her tongue. "For example now?" - I told her, already panting excitedly, of my sexual fantasies, that I flooded a woman's lap with waves of ****** from my member, and afterwards saw my semen between her thighs as a bubbling spring flowed back into daylight.
“A fantastic story that I hope is true,” she said. "And it seems to be working well for you, as I can see." She passed my penis to her other hand and pressed it to her breast-buds, like a small child who was to be breastfed with the milk from her breasts, to her small, flat breasts, that any child would die of thirst if left as dry as the passage between her thighs.
This thought excited me very much and I felt that I was about to come, no matter where, in her mouth, on her breasts, in her hand or on her thighs, repeated a thousand times in the mirrors around us. I felt the tide contracting into my body, how tightly she clasped my member with her hand as the first beam shot out of me with a shiver, followed by a second, a third. Dazed, I fell back on the bed, still gasping for breath, as the countess cupped my face with both hands. "Are you okay, my love?" She asked worried.
"Yes, everything is fine," I told her, still panting heavily. She stroked my cheeks with her hands, ran over my chest and stomach, deeper, until her hands reached my member again, at which she was staring. "How does it feel when you ... have an orgasm?" She wanted to know.
"I can't think of anything else but your hands and the floods ... and I wake up as if from a swoon, feeling dazed" I used the 'you' for the first time and looked at her in astonishment. "Have you never had an orgasm?" I wanted to know.
She smiled sheepishly: “You only imagined your floods. In reality there were only a few splashes. Look! ”She searched her body. Only between her breasts had two shiny f ***** neducated. She saw a third one on her stomach. There was nothing more. The two drops of semen between her breasts she spread over her flat breasts to her buds, the bright ****** f ***** n on her belly to the navel.
She looked down at the bush of hair in her lap and fished a drop from her pubic hair with two fingers that she had not yet discovered.
"This is for you," she said and put two fingers on my mouth. I tasted my own seed, how salty it was, how spicy it tasted, like black currants, I imagined.
"But that's more than enough for me," she explained, staring at me with wide eyes.
"Sufficient for what?" I asked, but got no answer. She got up. "We'll continue working tomorrow," she explained. "... You will come back tomorrow, won't you?" Her voice betrayed concern; I nodded.
“You will be picked up again. If you think it necessary, you can also take care of my grandfather clock. ”
To say goodbye, she put her fingers on my mouth again. “And no kiss, my love ... and don't expect love. Everything else is always welcome, especially your hands! "
When we went back into the mirrored room the next day, she folded her fingers in mine and kneaded them as a sign of readiness. I returned her movements. My eyes immediately fell on a table next to the bed on which there was a bowl with a pale yellow liquid. - "Olive oil", she explained to me. "I'll show you right away," she said and told me to wait for her in bed. I watched her undress, together with the infinite number of women in the mirrors, until they all stood in front of me in these skin-tight, flesh-colored panties, which she slowly peeled off.
"You'll see how helpful olive oil can be," she said, dipping two of her fingers into the oil and holding them over my mouth. "That tastes better than your seed, doesn't it?"
She crouched in bed next to me. “Caress my back with the olive oil!” She asked me.
I dipped my fingertips into the bowl, then the whole palm of my hand, and let the first drops of olive oil fall onto her back. They ran down it and left a glistening trail on which the oil soon reached their butt groove. My fingers followed this trail, catching up with the drops that would have disappeared in her pink rosette in the middle of her bottom if I hadn't got them back with my finger. She seemed to enjoy the game of my hands, even leaned forward and stretched her buttocks towards my hands.
I circled her soft rosette with one finger, collected olive oil from the buttocks and let it run into the rosette, which opened in front of me and offered a passage for my thumb, which I now gently drilled into her for the first time. The countess began to move her bottom in circular movements, with which she determined how deep I could penetrate her. She pulled her bottom together, squeezed my thumb, but immediately released it so he could continue his game.
"Olive oil is really helpful, isn't it?" She gasped as she released my thumb from her rosette, turned around and looked at me for a long time. In a firm voice she explained: "... but unfortunately you don't have children like that!"
I stared at her with wide eyes and open mouth in horror. She stroked my cheek with one hand and looked at me thoughtfully, waiting. "Do you mind if we father a child?" She asked with a sigh.
I still looked at her in disbelief. She got up and went to a dresser with two glasses and a bottle of champagne on it.
"Would you like a drink?" She asked. I nodded, drank the glass of champagne in one gulp and handed it to her. She poured me another one.
"Do you really want a child ..." I asked.
"Do not worry. Nobody will know. Not even your wife. We will not make any claims. It is supposed to be a little Count von Horft. My husband ... unfortunately he cannot ... "
"The watch repair was just an excuse, wasn't it?" I explained. - She nodded.
"I love your gentle hands, your tender fingers," she explained, "... and that there!" She pointed to my penis.
I shook my head. She loved all of that. But that she loved 'me' did not come out of her lips, and now I suspected what was so much worse than my busy fingers and my penis in her lap: kisses, as a sign of deep affection, a sign of love! - No, she didn't want love. That was probably something completely different from what she had planned: to father a child with me.
"You're coming back tomorrow, won't you?" She looked at me almost pleadingly. - I kept silent.
I came back the very next day! She led me back into the mirror room, where she slowly undressed in front of the mirrors until she stood naked in front of me. I looked at the thousand women in the mirrors around us whom I was supposed to impregnate, whom I was supposed to have children. I was glad that there would only be one child and not thousands.
She pulled me onto the bed in the middle and pressed my back on the bed under her. The countess dipped her hand into the oil bowl. An infinite number of women around us took hold of my penis, massaged it with oil until it rose shiny and straight. She kissed the tip of my member. "With olive oil it slides through any tightness."
She sat astride my lap and looked at me expectantly. "What are you thinking about now?"
"I imagine my member would be a geyser on which your lap rides, which is about to shoot floods of ****** in there." She sighed, lifted her lap and let it slide gently over the 'geyser' . I pushed it in with a gentle push until I felt the resistance of her tightness. With an extra push, I slipped through and penetrated deep into her, accompanied by an unmistakable sigh from Olivia.
"Please, your geyser, I'm waiting for your geyser," she breathed with her eyes closed.
We repeated this game several times until we had found a common rhythm, until I felt that it was beginning to boil in the depths of my geyser. Olivia held my penis deep in her lap clutching, when finally the first Fontaine its spray in her lap ******* s I imagined, a second and third followed, and to have fathered a child.
For a week we 'repaired' the Countess's 'clockwork' every afternoon, until one day she asked me into a drawing room, where I saw the grandfather clock on a wall. The countess looked at me for a long time through her glasses with wide eyes and then explained: “It is now ticking perfectly and the gong will soon sound too. Thanks again! ”She turned around as if to leave the parlor. "I hope there are no misunderstandings between us."
"No!" I said hesitantly. “There are no misunderstandings between us, Frau Countess.”
“Then we understood each other!” She stepped to a side door, paused for a moment in front of the clock, watched the swing of the pendulum with a smile and walked on. I looked after her and saw that she was running a hand over her stomach.
"The car is ready," I heard the voice behind me.
When the driver drove me back home, she stopped in the middle of town and asked if she could take me over for a cup of coffee.
"Yes," I said.
She walked ahead of me into a café, where she put on sunglasses as if she didn't want to be recognized.
“You know that the countess is married?” - “No, she didn't tell me that.”
“With a rich 72-year-old blind businessman who pays her maintenance for the courtyard. She herself has no income and cannot pay anything. Don't expect to get paid to fix the watch. You have already been paid, as I could see. "
She looked at me for a long time and interlaced the fingers of her two hands in front of my eyes.
"What did you observe?" The driver looked to the side, embarrassed.
“There was a niche from which you could see everything. At least this way, her husband wanted to be there when his offspring was conceived. I had to describe everything to him. ”
I wanted to get up and leave, but she held me back. We were silent for a while, then she leaned closer to me. “Your neighboring house is up for sale, as I have seen. I am looking for such a house for myself and my partner. Do you know the owner or the seller? ”
“ If you drop me off at home, you can write down the address of the agent. The sign with the name is right next to the front door. "
When we returned, she only glanced at the house next door. She seemed to have made a decision a long time ago. "I think we'll take this house," she explained, looking at me with a smile and a wink. “With neighbors like that,” she whispered to me.
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