Jolinka sat with her legs crossed in the visitors’ area, a cup in her hand. She pulled her skirt a little lower. The publisher was building up a second mainstay in the online erotica sector. She worked as a consultant for a publishing house. Her working hours start in the afternoon. She wanted to have a cup of coffee before, but Felix couldn’t wait to ask her for advice. He was nervous about the website he was supposed to fill with text. He had been waiting for her.
Felix was in his mid-twenties, had reddish hair, a bit portly; but always smiling. He stood in front of Jolinka, some papers in hand. “I’m creating a website about non-consensual sex,” he explained. He could make a lot of words about nothing and was suited to write web texts. His job was to publish articles with keywords that would attract users and keep them on the portal.
“Can I use the following text?” He read from a sheet, “In our society, there are sexual preferences that are non-consensual. Like BDSM and necrophilia. Knowing that necrophilia would require the consent of a sleeping person, makes it clear, that is non-consensual.”
“You can’t use that, Felix. Almost everything about that statement is wrong. Where did that come from?” asked Jolinka. Her skin was white and her blue eyes were framed with small wrinkles. Long blonde hair fell down her shoulders. She was one of those fifty-something women who didn’t realize how attractive she was.
“The text is from a podcast. What’s wrong, Jo?”
“BDSM practitioners make contracts with each other to make sure they act consensually.”
“What about this necro…”
“Necrophilia refers to sexual acts on dead persons, definitely not consensual. What was the next phrase?”
“…would require the consent of a sleeping person…”
“Sex with sleeping, or unconscious, persons is called somnophilia, not necrophilia. The podcast mixes it up. You should focus on necrophilia, Felix.”
“The topic will certainly excite visitors. I’ll find out more about it,” he replied.
“Tell me if it is too scary for you. If it is, I’ll write the article together with you.”
“That’s an offer. Thanks, Jo.”
As Felix left the foyer, Jolinka’s eyes fell upon a group of young men, accompanied by her boss, Harold. She hadn’t noticed them coming through the glass door. The men looked like siblings; about thirty years old, dark-haired, with slightly olive skin, and athletically dressed. Only Harold wore black, as usual. Jolinka stood up to greet them. She was almost as tall as the men.
“My cousins,” Harold explained, showing a semicircle with his hand. “Jolinka, my advisor.”
Jolinka said apologetically, “You heard my conversation; it wasn’t a nice topic, sorry.”
The tallest man, dressed in beige slacks and a dark blue polo shirt, tilted his head, “You answered a factual question factually, there’s nothing to apologize for.” With that, he saved Jo from Harold’s expected accusation that she should have had the conversation in her office. “My name is Leon, I’m Harold’s oldest cousin.” He looked at the two men standing next to him, identical twins, handing over the conversation to them.
One of them spoke, “We are Kilian and Benedict. Graphic artists. You can tell us apart if you remember that I’m wearing the plaid shirt, my brother is wearing the brown shirt, with B for Benedict.”
Jolinka laughed softly and replied, “Thanks for the help.” How nice, polite men, she thought. Who was the last one in the group? She looked at him. He was the only one with green eyes; all the others had brown, almost black eyes. She paid a lot of attention to eye colors.
“My name is Timur, I am a relative. Since we don’t know what the relationship is called, I am a cousin.” Timur wore jeans, a white piquet polo shirt, and held a basket. It was rectangular, slightly smaller than a pack of facial tissues. “In here,” he lifted the basket, “is Tigger. I couldn’t leave it alone, it’s in bad health.”
Jolinka took a step closer and looked into the basket. Wrapped in a blue microfiber cloth, she saw a small kitten. It was lying on its side and breathing heavily. In the corner lay a 5ml syringe of milk. “Oh dear,” Jolinka said, “the kitten is more dead than alive. But what great fur markings.”
Tigger was an orange and beige striped tomcat. The muzzle was bright. While most cats have vertical forehead stripes, it had two horizontal strokes, like eyebrows. The body was reminiscent of a tiger’s coat. Tigger was born very weak. Apparently, it had paid for the unusual appearance, with low chances of survival.
Harold took the floor. “My cousins are visiting the publishing house and also have a request for you, Jo. We should sit down and have some coffee from the vending machine.” He pointed toward the sand-colored, U-shaped seating area. Next to it was a round table with chairs, but it didn’t have enough room for the group. Next to the table was a beverage vending machine, a large wastebasket, and a shelf of local business brochures.
On the wall, hung framed issues of the local daily newspaper that Harold’s father had founded. As readers were no longer interested in the printed edition of the small town’s daily newspaper; it was discontinued. Harold was only able to maintain the online edition; but it didn’t bring in enough money to pay his employees.
Statistics showed him that the most frequently clicked posts on his publishing website were those about sex. There was an erotic club in the little German town, Framersdorf; the reports about it had the highest number of hits. According to the people of Framersdorf, group sex parties were held at the club, with participants coming from all over Germany. This could be seen from the license plates of the cars parked in the yard. Every now and then, residents would “accidentally” let their dog run away into the yard. People smelled cigarette and candle smoke from the red-lit windows and were outraged.
The club was called, Liebesschaukel, which means love swing. The Liebesschaukel had only a primitive website, which gave Harold an idea while looking for a second mainstay. He had a long conversation with the owner, “call-me-Otto,” a gastronomer with a big belly and a beard, the owner of several clubs. They decided to get into the online business.
With the help of a young local programmer, and advice from Jolinka, an erotic online portal was created. At first, the clicks linked as inconspicuously as possible to Otto’s clubs. Gradually, more and more erotic clubs booked advertising space. Fees were received in Harold’s company account. The second mainstay had worked.
The quiet, well-read Jolinka helped build the content of the pages. As much as she resembled an erotic expert on the outside, she was sexually reserved on the inside. A large scar on her flat stomach was to blame for her reticence. The result of a sledding accident as a child; Jolinka believed it was an unattractive sight. The few men she had been with over the last thirty years hadn’t minded, and they emphasized that explicitly; but Jolinka did not believe them. There in the publishing house, she thought about the last time she had sex, triggered by the sight of the four visitors’ masculinity.
The visitors walked towards the large seating area and Jolinka turned to her boss, “Do you want me to leave you alone?”
Harold shook his head, “No please, we need you. Kilian and Benedict will explain it to you.”
The men waited until Jolinka sat down, then each took his place. The visitors came from distinguished families and were well brought up. They were familiar with manners and etiquette; especially with regard to women, they were always up to date.
Timur sat to the left of Jolinka. Leon, the oldest and most attractive member of the family, sat to her right. Jo estimated him to be thirty-five. Harold took a seat opposite.
Tigger twitched several times in a row. Timur put his finger under the tiny paw. “It is getting colder and colder. It didn’t drink milk today. Oh God, Tigger, what am I going to do with you,” he sighed loudly. “I’m a veterinarian,” he told Jolinka, “It’s hard for me to watch this.”
“Should I warm it?” Jolinka asked, bending over the basket.
“How are you going to do that?” the vet asked, shrugging his shoulders, “A heat lamp didn’t work.”
“I would do it, like women do with a premature baby,” Jo explained, as Timur’s eyes got big. “Uh, like…” he was astonished, and had to swallow, “If you… if you want to.”
After curtly saying, “Give me that,” Jolinka took the basket, stood up, and disappeared into the restroom, the first door on the right in the hallway leading from the foyer.
The publishing house was located in a one-storey building. An unimpressive house with many windows, it could have housed a craftsman’s business. The attic was converted, but offered little living space due to the sloping roof. Nevertheless, Harold lived there with his wife and child because it was practical.
“What is she up to?” asked Harold, looking at Timur’s puzzled face.
Leon jumped in with an explanation, “She is putting Tigger between her breasts, it works like an incubator.” He was trained as a medical doctor, as he wanted to help people; but not in a matter of life and death. That’s why he had chosen sports medicine. He had nothing to do with obstetrics; but this much he knew, “That’s what you do with premature babies when they’re not in an incubator.”
Kilian couldn’t stop laughing. “The tomcat won’t survive, I guess; but at least it will have a handsome death.” The men nodded devoutly… dying between a woman’s breasts wasn’t the worst death.
Jolinka came back and sat in her previous spot. Tigger lay comfortably on a few sheets of toilet paper between her soft breasts, surrounded by body temperature, cradled by Jolinka’s breathing and soothed by her heartbeat; there was nothing to be seen of Tigger. Jo’s light blouse was closed demurely, much to the fallen disappointment of the all-male audience.
She looked around the room and asked, “You would like to know something specific?”
Kilian sat down and took the floor. “We are graphic artists and we were getting bullied. Stink bomb in the mailbox, fish under the doormat, things like that. The perpetrator was an online acquaintance of our secretary who died of diabetes shock. The man believed we were to blame; she had overworked herself, and we took away his great love.”
Jolinka listened in silence, and eyed Kilian. His cousins were neatly coiffed, while only Kilian’s hair was deliberately tousled. He signaled with it that he tends to fall out of the orderly line, without seriously breaking rules. He rubbed the back of his neck and continued talking.
“The perpetrator met Hannelore, our secretary, in an erotic chatroom. We found a short chat history, and emails. He signed his name ‘Gunter’, and we know the pseudonym he used at that time. We hired a detective agency to find him, so that the terror would stop. They couldn’t find anything. Harold said you might be able to help if you read the emails.” He pulled papers from his breast pocket, and handed them over.
Jolinka unfolded them and read. Meanwhile, Harold got coffee out of the vending machine and handed out the cups. A wonderful aroma permeated the foyer, all the way into the long hallway. There, behind dark brown wooden doors, the employees worked hard.
As she read the last lines of text, Jolinka muttered, “He’s a rigger. That simplifies the search.”
“What’s a rigger?” asked Harold.
“It’s a term that comes from seafaring, a profession,” his co-worker explained. “Riggers can knot ropes into rigging. The term has been adopted in BDSM, for bondage artists. Bondage, you’ve probably heard of that.”
The men were too quick-witted and well-bred to nod. They had grown up in a private boarding school. Their wealthy families sent the sons of each generation there. They listened to Jolinka with fascination; like they did in those days when a classmate told erotic stories spun together in the dark. They didn’t grimace. Except for Kilian. “How can you read that from this text?” he asked, forgetting to drink his coffee.
Jolinka cleared her throat and the kitten jumped up and down. It was kicking, a sign to Jolinka that it was alive. “I guessed at the beginning of the text. The writer emphasizes that Hannelore is safe and speaks of trust. Gunter uses phrases that are popular in the BDSM scene, like Fear is only in your mind. Hannelore did not understand this. She answers him, but doesn’t refer to his words.”
“She was like that in real life, too,” Benedict interjected. “She didn’t listen, she said what she wanted to say; completely incoherent.” The dark shirt he wore over a black T-shirt made him seem more serious than his twin. Jolinka noticed the differences between the two brothers. She liked the lively Kilian a little more.
“In one of the last texts, the wanted man talks about Momo, so everything was clear to me,” Jolinka explained.
“The detective agency said he was talking about the children’s book,” Kilian said, and Jolinka laughed out loud.
“Momo is shibari bondage,” she objected, “Japanese. The man you are looking for wanted to do bondage with Hannelore. Finding a woman for that is not easy. He was disappointed to lose her before it even began.”
“Do you think you can locate the man with this information?” asked Kilian, his coffee getting cold. He could not take his eyes off the experienced, mature woman. His cousins felt the same way. They tried hard to disguise it as polite attention; and Leon did it best. Perhaps, his dominance made it seem the most credible.
“I think I have a chance to find him,” Jolinka ventured. “I am an expert for erotic offers on the Internet. I work here before I go to my main place of work, at the club. The wanted man was online around the clock, looking for a woman. He’ll be doing that again. How much time do I have?” She looked at her boss.
Harold replied, “We’re going to tour the publishing facilities, and then we’re going to visit my family. We’ll be busy for about two hours. Do you want to find who you’re looking for, right now?”
Jolinka wanted to take advantage of the two hours. She took the Tigger basket with her, because of the milk syringe lying in it. She sat down in her office, behind one of the back doors. The men walked up the narrow staircase that led to the apartment where Harold lived with his wife and two-year-old daughter.
Jolinka registered in the chatroom mentioned on the printouts. She peppered her profile with keywords that indicated an interest in bondage. She relied on the zip code search, because Gunter lived in the vicinity of Framersdorf. One private message after another popped up, and one by one she closed them. Actually, she clicked away all the messages. Crap, this wasn’t working out the way she thought it would. She shouldn’t have made any promises. It all depended on whether the person she was looking for, took notice of her.
“Hi. I live near your location. Like to chat?”
Jolinka reacted immediately. After a while, when her hope that she had found the right person was confirmed, she wrote, “We should talk on the phone, because we live close to each other.”
The man gave her a cell phone number and she called him withholding her number. The excitement of speaking to a real woman – a woman interested in his fetish – was audible. “My name is Gunter,” he said breathlessly. The name was right, but there were many men with that name in Germany.
“I’m Jay,” Jolinka fibbed, “you’re experienced and looking for a new partner? Have you broken up?”
“My partner died, of overwork,” Gunter replied. Loudly and emphatically, he said, “Her bosses made sure she worked herself to death.”
She had found the culprit. The rest was a piece of cake. Jolinka now knew his place of residence, and that he lived next to a church. He was an early retiree and lived in the house he had inherited from his parents. Enough information for the detective agency to find him, at least they should be able to do that. She arranged to meet Gunter and put off the meeting for a long time. She had no intention of running into him. Satisfied, she hung-up the phone and logged off.
“Tigger, we made it,” she said into the neckline of her blouse, letting in some fresh air. The kitten felt the draft of air and wheezed. Jolinka pulled Tigger out, put it on the microfiber cloth, took the syringe and offered it milk. Tigger drank hastily, and made a huge mess, its little face was full of milk. After it was wiped off, it got back into its incubator with a full belly, and instantly fell asleep.
An enormously loud bang that made the windows shake made Jolinka cringe. Even the monitor on the desk shook. She had just registered that the bang came from outside when a second more violent explosion shook the room. She jumped up and looked out of the window. Smoke was rising from the direction in which the Liebesschaukel was located, as well as from the center of the village. She stared at the scene in horror. Her cell phone rang. OTTO was shown on the display.
“Shit, Jo, where are you?!” his voice yelled out of the phone.
“At the publishing house,” Jolinka shouted louder than necessary, “what happened?”
“A car bomb has gone off in the courtyard of the club. In the car was the minister. Shit, he’s been hit!”
“And what about you? What about the staff?”
“We’re okay, Jo. Stay where you are. I’ll call you when I know more.”
The frightened Jo sank into the swivel chair. The office door yanked open and Harold rushed in. He asked breathlessly if she was all right. Jolinka knew more than he did and informed him. Where the second bang came from, neither of them knew. There was nothing important in the center of Framersdorf; the town hall could have been the target.
Loud voices and footsteps could be heard in the hallway. The employees set off to get to their families as quickly as possible. Felix still lived with his parents, just a five-minute walk away. Like his colleagues, he wanted nothing more than to see his loved ones. Harold ran to his office to start reporting on the newspaper website. Jolinka remembered the visitors. Where are they?
She found them in the foyer, they had retired to the seating area and were discussing what to do. Kilian was in favor of leaving immediately. Leon objected: “Four young men in a black SUV. How fast do you think the police will let us get?”
Outside, sirens could be heard. Police, fire department, ambulances were on duty and raced through the town. Police officers shouted at passersby to go into their homes and close the windows. A loudspeaker urged residents to stay in their homes.
“It’s too late,” Jolinka said to the guests, “You’re not getting out of here.” She took a deep breath, “I’ll get the TV from the conference room.” Leon helped her carry the flatscreen into the foyer and plug it in. Jolinka caught a glimpse his flexing muscles under his polo shirt. Despite the chaotic situation, she found him tremendously attractive. Too bad he was at least fifteen years younger than she was.
Watching TV they learned which minister had been the victim of this attack and that the area had been sealed off.
“Sealed off? Completely overblown,” Kilian said.
“Reminds me when they closed the German highway for eight hours when a crate of tomatoes fell off a delivery truck,” Benedict grumbled.
They paused, and muted the television. The silence was oppressive. Jolinka made an effort, and informed the group of her success to find Gunter. She wrote down the results of her research on a piece of paper. She wrote left handed; even that was erotic. “What are you going to do with this man?” she inquired.
“We will threaten him with legal action, to stop harming us. We don’t care what he does on the Internet. We will not expose him,” Benedict affirmed. “We are very grateful to you, Jolinka. You really helped us a lot.”
Harold’s wife came in with a large plate of canapés and cold beer. She left immediately because her daughter was alone in the apartment. Jolinka, who liked to drink a beer once in a while, sat in the middle of the men and they toasted. Leon turned up the sound of the television again.
They hadn’t noticed how the time had passed. Only Tigger noticed it by its hunger. When it stuck its little head out of her blouse and cried for milk, they all felt better and took care of the kitten.
The risk-taking Kilian ran to the car to get a packet of cat’s milk. When he returned, he held up his hand and mimed a resistance fighter. Tigger was handed over to Timur. To see it slurping milk made them smile. Leon, the alpha male of the group, determined, “Enough TV, I’m going to turn it off; and we’re going to build a sleeping landscape.”
Jo knocked on Harold’s door, who had nothing new to post on the website. Together with Leon, he fetched a mattress from his apartment, which they put in Jolinka’s office.
The visitors made a rectangular sleeping landscape out of the cushions from the seating group, and what they had received in pillows and blankets. They had mastered this from their time together at boarding school. The result provided enough space for four people to lie side by side. It looked quite cozy.
Jolinka was freshening up in the restroom. When she came out, wearing only panties and her blouse, to go to her sleeping place in the office, Timur called out to her.
“I am not dressed appropriately!” she shouted back.
“It’s okay, there’s no light on here, just the blue light coming from outside. Come on, it’ll be worth it.”
Carefully, Jolinka went to the mattress camp and knelt at the short side. Leon lay furthest away, Benedict in front of him, then Kilian, and right in front of her, Timur. And, on his chest, little Tigger walked around; a bit thin and disheveled, but in good shape.
“Oh how nice,” laughed Jolinka. Tigger sniffed Timur’s chest hair and put its little bottom on the white undershirt. It looked so cute as Jolinka stroked the kitten. Jo smiled at Timur.
“Would you like to sleep with us?” the asked gently.
Jolinka looked at him in irritation.
“There is enough space and we can be together,” Timur stated, as he looked her firmly in the eyes.
“No way,” Jolinka said, startled, “Good night!”. She got up and ran into the office where she was supposed to sleep. It was bathed in blue light, and an orange warning light flickered in. She remarked that they must have brought her a mattress from a crib, as it was much too small. She curled up and closed her eyes. It was cold, cramped, and uncomfortable. The lights made her nervous.
There was a knock. She sighed and called out, “Yes?”
Kilian came in, wearing boxer shorts and a black T-shirt. He sat down next to her on the floor. “I want to repeat Timur’s offer. It’s really nice in the sleeping area; better than your little mattress. Come join us, we’re all good, and we like you. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to.”
“You don’t give up easily, do you?” Jolinka noted.
“I’m the rebel off the family,” Kilian stroked her cheek, “please come.”
Jolinka struggled with herself.
“I’m sure Tigger would sleep much better…” Kilian said, winking and grinning.
“Nothing happens that I don’t want to happen?”
“I promise. I’ll take care of you.”
Jo stood up, Kilian as well. He took her by the hand and brought her to his cousins. Tigger lay above Timur’s head in its microfiber crib and slept. Jolinka lay down between Timur and Kilian. They helped her to get comfortable.
Timur pulled her over and offered her his chest, on which she laid her head. She didn’t find that objectionable because he wore an undershirt. He stroked her back and she noticed that she became more and more relaxed, and snuggled softly against him.
She said, “I have a nasty scar,” because it flashed through her mind like a warning that this cuddling could come to an abrupt end, if Timur felt the hidden blemish.
“Never be ashamed of a scar. It means you were stronger than what was trying to hurt you,” Timur quoted. “I cause scars, I operate on animals to save their lives. For me, scars are something positive. Where is it?”
Jolinka pulled up her blouse and Timur slid down. He felt her belly with his fingers, found the scar and kissed it inch by inch. His lips touched her gently and she heard him say between kisses, “You’re beautiful.” Jolinka closed her eyes and enjoyed.
His head went further down. He pressed his kisses on her panties. Jolinka noticed how wet her panties had become. Timur hooked his fingers in the waistband, and slowly pulled her panties down.
Kilian’s head popped up next to Jolinka and he asked in a whisper, “Is it okay what he’s doing?”
She nodded. The buttons of her blouse were undone and Kilian’s hand caressed her breasts. Jolinka moaned when Timur kissed her on her unprotected labia. He ran his finger between them and opened them to plunge his tongue inside. Jolinka squirmed, it was loving and tender. Two men, exciting and tingling.
Kilian played with her breasts. They felt like balloons filled with water; he could move them back and forth with his hand, shape them with his fingers, lift them. Her nipples were round, like big raspberries; and when he moistened them, the skin around them tightened. He wanted to play with them endlessly, but he had promised to take care of Jo. He thought about important things.
“We don’t have condoms,” he whispered in her ear.
Jolinka could not focus on the answer, because of Timur’s tongue teasing her clit. She didn’t like being reminded that contraception was no longer necessary, because of her age; but Kilian had asked so sweetly and caringly. “There’s no risk,” she whispered back.
Strangely, at that very moment, the stimulus triggered a climax in her most sensitive spot, she reared up and made little noises. Tigger wiggled its ears because Jo sounded like its mother, who had abandoned the sick kitten.
Timur was in Jo’s private parts with his entire face, and tried to penetrate her, as deeply as possible, with his tongue. Jo’s new bodyguard, Kilian, slid his arm under her back and supported her while she writhed in delight. “You’re great,” he breathed.
His cousin withdrew from the paradise between Jolinka’s thighs, and took off his briefs.
“Is he allowed to penetrate you?” inquired Kilian, wiping strands of hair from Jolinka’s face. She confined herself to nodding.
“I want to hear your answer,” Kilian said, playing it safe; “say it out loud.”
“Yes,” Jo said firmly.
Timur found his way back to paradise, and entered her. Kilian decided to leave the two of them to themselves. He turned his back to the swaying couple, bent one leg and formed a screen with his blanket.
His cousins, who had been watching with fascination until now, sank back onto their pillows and accepted their fate of not being allowed to watch the new lovers. The rhythmic movements could be felt all over the mattress camp. After a while, they got faster. Kilian heard Timur hold his breath and realized that he was stopping his thrusts. After a few seconds, Timur rolled off Jo, lying on his stomach and was not moving; he was overwhelmed and wanted to rest.
Kilian turned around, stripped Jo’s blouse off and pulled her to him. She shouldn’t be alone, he thought; he wanted to caress her. “Are you okay?” he inquired. At the same time, he ran the palm of his hand over her belly and reached her moist pussy. She had pronounced labia, between which he could sink his fingers to the first knuckle. It was incredibly hot between them. He rubbed her clit very lightly with his fingertip.
“It’s all good, Kilian.”
“Can you do it again?”
“I think so,” giggled Jolinka.
“Would you like a little variety? Maybe from behind?”
Jolinka drew her eyebrows together, and did not answer. Kilian signaled to his twin brother, to his right, that he should take over holding the privacy blanket, which Benedict did immediately.
“No one sees us, and Timur is sleeping. The suggestion was not meant to be disparaging; I like it when the woman is in that position. I can see your butt. I like bottoms, and yours is gorgeous,” he gushed. “Your breasts drop down when you kneel, I can hold them with my hands…”.
Without saying anything, Jo turned around and knelt down. She liked Kilian, he was decent to her and she wanted to please him.
Kilian didn’t remember how long he had had his erection; it was probably since Jo had joined them. He was ready to go, as ready a man could be. He pushed his penis into her pussy. He bit his lower lip. His brain’s speech center now produced only vulgarities; but not a word would pass his lips, as he had far too much respect for the beautiful, older woman in front of him. Even the fact that she had knelt before him, did not diminish this respect.
It was not only Jo, but Benedict also felt the regular thrusts, and was on the edge of control, himself. Kilian and he were the same size, as they had already compared all those years ago. Both were cut. If they had taken turns with Jolinka, she wouldn’t have noticed it from their sizes. He liked the idea… it was hell to wait, his erection hurt.
Leon’s hand lay flat on Ben’s chest. In the blue light, the eldest cousin’s stern gaze seemed threatening, accompanied by Leon’s negative shake of the head. He had guessed Ben’s thoughts. Ben sighed and fell back: Don’t do it. Leon was right.
Kilian made a sound, something between agony and relief, and did not thrust again. He finished and sank back on his heels. A few drops of sweat ran down his chest. He gave Jo a kiss on her bottom.
That was the sign for Benedict to drop the privacy screen, and to pull Jolinka into his arms. His brother fell onto the mattress, on his belly. Just like Timur, he lay there, no longer of this Earth, but in after-sex heaven.
To Benedict’s great disappointment, Jo whispered at that moment, “I don’t think I can do it anymore.”
“You didn’t cum, I didn’t hear it. Neither when Timur, nor Kilian were inside you,” Benedict argued, “You have to. I want to make sure you’ve cum. ”
Jolinka had come a thousand times, lots of little orgasms, virtually connected in series, like a string of lights. A frenzy of climaxes, but she couldn’t explain it to Benedict.
“I get sore…” she put it more simply.
“Oh, then I’ll stay outside, that’s fine. Lie on your side with your back to me.”
They turned around until they had taken up the spoon position.
Leon lay next to them on his back and kept his eyes closed. He did not intend to stay in this position, but he wanted to give Jo a feeling of discretion.
Benedict pressed his rock-hard penis horizontally between Jo’s slippery labia. He had pushed his left arm under her neck. He moved back and forth. Jo moaned because his tip rubbed her clit.
“You like it? Do you feel me?” asked Benedict.
“Yes, very nice,” Jo murmured.
“I’ll stay on the outside. Only at the end I will go a little bit inside you. I can’t help it, it must be done. Do you agree?”
“Okay,” whispered Jo, whose abdomen, stirred by countless little climaxes, had just decided to head for a big orgasm; or rather, her tenderly rubbed clit gave the order. Jo opened her eyes and took a deep breath.
Leon appeared in front of her face. He looked at her with a smile, raised his eyebrows, and told her to let go. She tightened her knees and curled up slightly as she climaxed. Everything inside her twitched. She saw small flashes of light against a black background.
Benedict had trouble holding his position. When he realized what was going on, he abandoned the hollow he was rubbing. He penetrated Jo, and he could feel the twitching of her muscles under the tense tightness of her pussy. Then he couldn’t hold on any longer and Jo was flooded with her third load of cum.
Leon pulled the exhausted Jolinka away from Benedict. His upper body was naked and felt muscular and warm. He hugged her tightly and beamed to himself. What a great woman. Dream girl. He stroked her back and kissed her. “You are wonderful,” he whispered. He wanted to hold her forever. His gaze wandered over his three cousins. One like the other, had fallen asleep or was about to fall asleep. He was proud of them. Real guys.
“Leon,” he heard Jolinka say, “I have to get up, it’s running out, and down my leg.”
“No, wait,” he objected, “I’ll take care of you.”
Leon got up quietly and crept to the restroom barefoot. He didn’t have many options, but he found paper towels, guest towels, and liquid soap. On his way back, he picked up Jolinka’s panties, which were lying in the middle of the path. Bending down, he saw that Tigger was rowing its paws while sleeping.
Jolinka lay on her back and Leon put her legs up. He pushed a towel under her bottom to protect the cushions. In the blue light, the liquid sparkled between her legs and streamed down the insides of her thighs. He wiped her carefully with the dry and damp towels. One was not enough, he needed several.
“My goodness, I think my bros have exploded.” To his amazement, he heard Benedict reply, “Bro, I did.” Leon had to stifle a laugh. He enjoyed washing Jo, and he would have liked to have shaved her, too; really thoroughly, with foam and a disposable razor. Afterwards, he would have rinsed her off and creamed her. He dried Jo off, and pulled on her white panties. He knew where his polo shirt was; he could feel it and put it on her.
“I’ll put the stuff away, I’ll be right back.” He disposed of the material hygienically, as was his custom as a doctor; and washed his hands.
Jolinka had turned onto her side. She slipped into sleep. Leon lay down next to her and bedded her against his naked torso.
“Leon,” he heard Jo’s voice, “you don’t want to…?”
“It doesn’t have to be now, Jo,” he replied. “You’re tired. I can wait.”
He really could do that. He was the big “brother” of the boys. He was used to holding back. At boarding school, he had fought for the boys and protected them. At home, he had taken the blame for everything, no matter what crap they had done. It was enough for him to see that the boys were happy; he could put his needs aside. Jo was too precious to be used just because it was his turn. He wanted to have her at his house, alone with her, all night. Starting with intimate care, a long bath, and hours of imaginative sex in his bed. What a beautiful imagination. He felt Jolinka’s regular deep breaths, concentrated on her and nodded off.
A shaking woke him up. “Leon, you have to get up. It’s early morning. We need to dismantle your sleeping quarters before my employees arrive.” Leon opened one eye and saw Harold. He stood bent over with a box of granola bars and a bottle of orange juice in his hand.
“Did Jo sleep over?” the newspaper publisher asked.
“Everything is okay, nothing happened between us,” Leon answered truthfully and Harold believed him. He woke up the other men. Jo looked for her blouse and quickly ran to the restroom first.
They had a simple breakfast on the now reconstructed settee. Jolinka looked furtively for stains on the upholstery, but saw none. Timur secretly rubbed Jo’s hand. Kilian smiled at her, and Benedict had managed to give her a kiss on the cheek. Instinctively, the men knew that they had to give her feedback that they liked and respected her. They even felt gratitude for having been given last night.
Harold didn’t get anything like that, he hadn’t had a positive experience after the explosions. He still organizes. “The police are all over, you will have to go through a roadblock and be checked; be prepared for that. If you have anything in the car that could be critical, give it to me,” Harold offered. “Jo, are you staying here? Otto called, he’ll be here, in a couple of hours. Then he’ll know if the house is usable and you can figure out how to proceed.”
The men set off. Leon distracted Harold with a few questions and the other three managed to say goodbye to Jolinka. Kilian exchanged cell phone numbers with her. Only Leon had to nod at her from a distance, as Harold was too close, and Felix was the first staff member to arrive. Jolinka had given Leon back his polo shirt, wrinkled, but smelling breathtaking. It smelled like her. He wanted to lift it off his stomach and press it to his nose; and as the four men sat in the SUV, he did just that.
A radio station confirmed that there was a letter of confession. The minister was appreciated, although he had visited the club. The town hall was minimally damaged. The second bomb was intended to cause confusion, it failed. The focus was immediately on the victim. Otto had played his part by informing the police of the minister’s presence.
Timur was busy with Tigger. Benedict checked his cell phone, as Kilian drove the car. He was a safe, but fast driver; and due to the road controls, he drove slowly. As Harold had predicted, they were checked; three police officers questioned the SUV. They were asked questions like, “Who did you visit? Where did you stay overnight?” Leon didn’t know if he had to answer these questions, he didn’t want trouble. He answered calmly and matter-of-factly. Finally, they let them drive on. As the vehicle rolled along, Leon asked the group, “Are you seriously interested?”
Timur next to him at the backseat looked up, “Do you mean in a relationship with Jolinka?”
Leon chewed on his lower lip, “She’s a great woman.”
Timur scratched his unshaven chin. “She is. But I don’t think I’d feel comfortable in public. There are those stupid looks when you are with an older woman. I don’t want to have a relationship with her. Ben, would you like to? ”
“No, but for a different reason. I want kids. A small family like Harold’s. It is impossible with Jo.”
“I’ll join you,” Kilian said, shifting up a gear. “Are you interested, Leon?”
“I definitely want to see her again.”
Kilian clicked the turn signal and turned off. Fifteen more minutes and they would be at home. They lived close to each other; Leon and Timur had their practices in the same medical building. After merging into traffic, Kilian continued to talk. “I wanted to keep in touch with her so she feels comfortable. I wanted to tell her how nice the night was and that there’s nothing to be ashamed of, and so on. Do you want to take over, Leon? I have her mobile number.” He handed his cell phone to the back. Leon copied the number to his contacts.
He handed back the cell phone and wrote a message: “Good morning, beautiful. I want to see you again. Dinner at my place?”
He stared at his cell phone. She probably couldn’t answer right away. Harold was close to her, co-workers need her help. There was still excitement in the publishing house; everyone had something to say. Maybe her cell phone battery was dead. Hopefully it wasn’t broken. Actually, it might be. Or, maybe she didn’t want to answer. Oh god, hopefully she wouldn’t lapse into silence.
His cell phone vibrates. On the display appeared “Tonight. Harold will give me your address. Jo.” Followed by a little red heart.
Leon let himself sink back into the seat. His stomach was warm. His heart was pounding below his larynx. His mouth twisted into a wide smile. Timur put Tigger on his shoulder, who pressed its little pink nose against Leon’s cheek. Leon closed his eyes. Happiness, that’s what happiness felt like.
***
With special thanks to K.S. and J.C. for the help to translate my story
„Die Schlaflandschaft”.