March 11, 1944. Tiergarten Park, Berlin. War rages. Widows multiply. Men scarce. Hildegarde lounges on a bench. Tall, athletic blonde. Educated. Music lover. Theater aficionado. Man-obsessed. She scans passersby. Ignores distant bombs. Craves escape in lust. Power in a lover’s grip. Today: Colonel Siegfried Aufchtate. Confident. Charismatic. Power-hungry. She knows his route to the War Ministry. Saturdays, she reports as admiral’s secretary. Steno expert. Typewriter whiz. But she hungers for more than work.
He appears. ‘Colonel Aufchtate!’ She rises. He devours her: heels, toned calves, cream skirt hugging thighs, flat belly, lace-teased breasts, gold chain, platinum hair, piercing blue eyes, wicked smile. ‘Who are you?’ ‘Hildegarde, your general’s secretary.’ They walk together. Heart pounds. She studies his profile: aquiline nose, intense gaze. She wants him inside her. Risks be damned. War lowers the bar for hangings.
The Fever
‘Enjoy the work?’ ‘Honored to serve you, Colonel.’ Malice in his eyes. At ministry: ‘Enter separately.’ Day drags. Typing memos. General in council with colonel. Evening steno session. No stolen glances. Clock strikes 9 PM. Exhausted. Back aches. Fingers sore. Starving. General gone. Colonel lingers. She must stay. Fantasies flood: hot bath, naked immersion. Left hand on firm breast, pinching pink nipple. Right hand down smooth mound, between thighs. Fingers parting slick lips. Two inside, thumb on clit. Imagines his cock.
‘ Hildegarde!’ Snapped from reverie. She rushes in. Pussy wet. ‘You look pale.’ ‘Fatigue, Colonel.’ Lies. Heat surges. His gaze strips her. Bulge in pants. She steps close. ‘Colonel, I want you.’ Left hand grabs crotch. Right on neck. Lips crash. Tongues invade. She massages hardening cock through fabric. Presses him against desk. He yields. Backed up.
She molds his swelling shaft. Fingers spread wide. He yanks her hair, breaks kiss. But she grips tighter. His hand kneads firm ass. Inches apart. Breathing ragged. He surges back, crushes lips. Fingers under skirt hem, up silken thigh. Light touch ignites. She unbuckles belt. Undoes buttons. Expert hands. His fingers tease outer lips. Wet heat.
The Blaze
She grips hot, throbbing cock. Smooth pubes. Balls firm. He circles clit, pinches. Dips between folds. She kisses deep. He plunges two fingers in. Slick, burning grip. Pumps. Hooks for G-spot. She strokes shaft. Legs buckle. Kneels. Gland gleams with pre-cum. Tongue laps. Sucks deep. Swirls. Gags edge. Hand on balls: squeezes, tugs. He throbs.
He hauls her up. Savage eyes. Lifts onto desk. Hikes skirt. Exposes soaked panties. She clamps legs. He glares. Rips panties down. Knees forced wide. Cock nudges entrance. She guides him. He thrusts deep. Balls slap ass. Powerful, deep strokes. She clenches pussy walls. Pleasure coils.
He slows. Pulls out. Flips her. Face-down on desk. Hand pins back. Cock rams from behind. Deeper. Grabs hair, yanks. She arches. Spasms hit. Orgasms crash. He floods her. Pulses hot.