The Valley of the Frogs

Uncle Erich

The Kabunkes

Andrea

The Gang

Andi

Theresa

Monika

Alfred

I and Me

Alfred

I was after Andrea's remark, my father would be "eloped", quite confused. Later, but this was already at the time when Sepp sometimes visited her, my mother said at dinner that she had to discuss something serious with me. Father had gone away and was not coming back. I howled like a castle dog and ran to my room. It hurt terribly, especially because he had left without saying goodbye, because he had not even said goodbye to his little girl, as he had always tenderly called me. From mother's explanations, why and why it had come so far, I heard half already no more, only that he had now another woman.

In reality it was all quite different, because a few days later father came over and walked with me across the meadows and fields up to the forest. No, it would never have occurred to him to run away without a word, that was not true. And of course he would always visit me when I wanted him to, or I him. The thing with the new wife was rather complicated, he said, scratching his head in embarrassment, but that was just the way it was; he and mother would no longer fit together, he knew that very well.

I had a thousand questions for him, but I trudged silently beside him on the dirt road. For minutes we walked on in silence. At some point he said that it hadn't worked out with the mother "that way either, you know," he said. She didn't want him anymore, she didn't want "it" anymore, but a man needs "that". But she didn't want "it" anymore. I wanted to scream, wanted to yell at him that this was not true at all, that Sepp came every few weeks and then she wanted it, and I could hear her through the thin wooden wall, so she needed it after all badly! But I trudged silently next to him over the dirt road, did not bring out a sound.

But my father kept his word, he came by regularly and visited mainly me. With mother he spoke only little and then also only the necessary. Soon I suppressed my suffering and felt the separation almost no longer as such, since my father was also before often for weeks on the road. The new friends, the new school and the newly discovered vices gradually took me completely captive, and I no longer thought about the pain.

Until Mother started staying in town sometimes after work to go to the movies or out with a friend. She would call Mosers, who had a phone, and leave a message that she would be late. Once she left in the afternoon, putting on makeup and preening herself rather frantically, and gave herself away when she said she was going dancing with a friend, with a girlfriend, she corrected with flushed cheeks. But my ears perked up and my suspicions were confirmed: mom had a boyfriend!

For a few weeks this went on, up and down, and I suspected, in the ups she met someone, in the downs they parted again. I felt confirmed in my assumptions, because Sepp had not come to visit her for quite a while now. But I didn't pay much attention to all this, was concentrated on my own secret affairs. Sometimes Mother would talk about her work, mentioning Alfred in passing, who was a very nice person, and then I heard more and more frequently about Alfred saying this and Alfred saying that. Alfred this, Alfred that: I didn't have to be a detective to put two and two together. I didn't let on, but I despised my parents then, separated only by their own stupidity.

And then came the Sunday when Alfred visited us. Mother was frantically preparing the coffee snack, cleaning and wiping the kitchen incessantly, and kept looking out the window to see if he was coming already. He did come, a friendly, lean man who lovingly stroked the old, black Mercedes 180 after he had parked it. I had already heard about his car, he had driven a cab with it for a while, but then his boss had acted stupidly and Alfred had simply stayed away with his cab, and that's what he has now, the boss.

After the initial excitement was over and mother had mopped up the coffee and laid a new tablecloth, it actually became a nice coffee break. Alfred was so wonderful at imitating voices and telling stories that you had to listen intently until the punch line came and then we all had to laugh out loud. He had already been around the world, although he was obviously a lot younger than my mother, knew Salzburg and even Vienna. Then he laughed at my astonishment and said he was born in Vienna. He told of vacations in Greece and how he had taken a truck to Istanbul, once upon a time. I hung on his lips, because no one had ever visited us before with so much to tell.

What bothered me a little was that Alfred soon started acting like someone who belonged here. When he "our little daughter" said, it almost sounded as if I were his daughter. When Mother got up to fetch something, he embraced her waist as if she were his property. And when we showed him the whole house, he inspected everything as if he were the new owner, remarking about this and that, that this would be moved this way and that, and here this would go, and there that. It alienated me how he took possession of us in passing.

When he had left, my mother was still sitting at the kitchen table for a very long time. She still talked about Alfred and then asked how I liked him. Instead of telling the truth, I said that he was a very nice, kind man, because I didn't want to hurt my mother. I felt that she expected that from me.

Over the next few weeks she always came home very late, and then one day she opened up to me that Alfred was in a complicated, desperate housing situation. She had offered him that he could live with us temporarily. Temporarily.

She didn't listen to me very well when I came up with some arguments, such as that we didn't have a room of our own for him. She already had everything neatly figured out and was just moving along in her own system. Defiantly, I pinched my lips together and helped her move the furniture and drag those that were not absolutely necessary into the attic. Then Saturday came, and with that Saturday came the old black Mercedes, crammed with Alfred's belongings.

I stood a little apart as my mother greeted Alfred and helped him carry his things in. I stood apart, despising my mother for planning and discussing everything in detail with a complete stranger and leaving me on the sidelines. Silently and with tears of anger in my eyes I went to Monika. That was at the same time one of the last afternoons that I went to Monika to learn.

Subsequently I wonder about my reaction, but I imagined rock solid that I had to defend my room, my home nest against Alfred. So I went straight home after school and went to my room, studied a lot and really studied, which had a good effect on my grades, and then had the whole afternoon to myself, my secret vice and my musings. It was also during this time that I started writing this journal.

Often Alfred would go to town with my mother in the morning, and pick her up in the evening. But on some days Alfred didn't go to work, and then it meant being quiet. My sense of shame told me to be as quiet and careful as possible, especially on those days, so that he wouldn't hear anything of my secrets. For they both tried to be as quiet as possible, too, but I lay wide awake in my bed at night, listening for the sounds coming from Mother's bedroom. With time, I defied and bucked inwardly no more and played long and gently with myself while they made love next door. After all, I was getting the first fuzz around my cunt and would probably get my period soon, like a real woman.

Sometimes when Alfred wasn't going to work, he would come into my room in the afternoon to check on me. Mostly he asked trivial things, if I wanted a snack or something, but if I was already under my blanket, then he sat down at the edge of the bed and had a trivial chat, mostly just a monologue about this and that, almost always it was soccer. But he never forgot to put his hairy hand on my blanket and pat me a little. The first time I still flinched because I was completely naked under the blanket, but over time his patting no longer frightened me, because the most he could do was patting my thigh because I was lying on my side.

Once, I had almost reached my climax, he stuck his head in and asked if he could come in, and I remained silent, then he was in the room. He didn't seem to have noticed that I had just been masturbating, but somehow my mood struck him as strange, and later he said as much. I shrugged my shoulders and kept stubbornly silent. He sat down on the edge of the bed in his sweaty undershirt and patted me, as always. But now I was lying on my back and lolling in my horniness, pressing my horny body against his hand, which irritated him a lot. Heaven knows what I would have done at that moment, but amazingly he became more and more confused and quickly left the room.

From that day on, I remember it very clearly, I behaved meanly towards him. I provoked him by walking around the apartment in only my underwear as well as he did, ignoring his gawking. Of course, I became horny myself at this deliberate display and enjoyed going back to bed quickly and making it fast for myself. Now when he came in in the afternoon, I had one bare leg peeking out from under the covers, or sometimes both, just had the crumpled blanket tucked between my thighs. Now he had the greatest difficulty in patting me, because the protective blanket was no longer there, and my bare legs he did not dare to attack. I had found his limits, hurray!

It was from now on easy to throw him completely into confusion. Slowly but steadily I increased the risk, chatted with him about his beloved soccer ball and put up a leg as if unintentionally, so that he had to see up to my half buttock and a little bit of fluff, if he dared to look. And he did that blinking, secretly, and was terribly embarrassed when he looked me in the eye again. I let his patting freeze already in the approach, if I held out to him a teensy‐weensy bit of the most secret of a real woman. A few times, when he disturbed me in the middle of it and I still felt my horniness blazing, I simply left my hand under the blanket on my pubic, which completely threw him off when he had to look. I was successful with this, because now he retreated to the bedroom with nice regularity, and then I heard him panting and rubbing. I laughed inwardly at him and rubbed myself too. On the nights that followed those afternoons, he would ram like crazy for half the night and I could hear my mother sighing loudly and happily.

Some time after that, I got sick and had a high fever. My mother was very worried about me and stayed at home, taking me to her bed in the most feverish hours and holding me until I slept peacefully again, while Alfred had to sleep in my room. When the fever was gone again, I slipped into my long nightgown on Sunday morning and crept to the bedroom door, where I knocked softly. Then I asked if I could join her in bed. Of course, my mother said, and I went into the dim room, lay down beside her under the covers, and dozed by her side as I always did.

In the beginning, it was the illness that had brought me back to the master bedroom. Now I found myself liking the idea of taking a piece of home back from Alfred again, of reclaiming it. Perhaps, however, I wanted something else, but at first I was not aware of that at all. In any case, I was again lying next to my mother on Sunday morning and had her to myself.

Alfred, however, had other things on his mind on Sunday morning than a 13‐year‐old brat lying in "his" bed next to "his" wife and slept there the whole morning. The first two Sundays he proved that he was a real gentleman. On the third, however, he couldn't hold it any longer; I half awoke from my doze when I heard my mother hissing that he should finally give it a rest! But Alfred did not let up, and after I had turned away and closed my eyes tightly, I heard him, quietly and secretly fiddling with mother. My heart beat up to my throat when she stopped protesting. As quiet as they wanted to be, I felt their every move. I opened my eyelids a tiny crack wide and saw that she had taken his cock in her hand. Although she was rubbing it very softly and carefully, I still felt the mattress begin to move slowly and rhythmically. Needless to say, it was much, much later that I began to loll and then "woke up".

For Alfred, the ice was broken. Sunday after Sunday I knocked quietly on the bedroom door, slipped under the covers and "slept on". My mother guessed what was coming and whispered that he should wait until the child was fast asleep, which I did. Sometimes she made him give up until I had gone again, but sometimes not, when his urging became too wild. Then she would sigh godly, quietly rub his cock and make him squirt. I felt wicked and very wicked and thought defiantly that yes, they had betrayed me, but at the same time I was curious and filled up with horniness, which I later satisfied in my own bed. I became especially horny when I didn't turn away, but snuggled up to my mother, hiding my head "asleep" under the covers, and could see everything clearly in the dim darkness; how mother's hand rubbed his cock up and down, very slowly and carefully, because I was also lying on top of her. How the hand froze when the sticky stuff squirted out.

During the week, they now no longer made love as often as before. Alfred must have come up with something new, because I heard him nibbling and making out for a long time before she started moaning and groaning. I became more and more curious day by day what they were doing, sticking my ear to the wall like a spider, trying to figure out the strange noises. My masturbation fantasies overflowed every night until I decided to get to the bottom of it. With a pounding heart, I crept to the bedroom door, stood in front of it "yawning" in my nightgown, and quickly opened it.

In a single moment I surveyed the situation, then quickly closed the door and muttered: "Sorry, but I couldn't fall asleep!", then I ran to my room with my heart pounding.

The first thing I had seen was Alfred's bare ass kneeling behind my mother. She was kneeling on the bed facing the wall with both hands tied to the bedposts. Surprised, they both looked around and Alfred's stiff cock slipped out. The mother opened her mouth to say something, but by then I had already closed the door again.

The next morning I woke up, and mother was sitting next to me on the bed, looking at me seriously, long and silently. Then she spoke to me like an adult, perhaps for the first time ever. Searched for words to explain the situation. That it was nothing perverted, but it gave Alfred an extra pleasure when she was tied up, but she was not so tightly bound that she didn't feel free anyway. She went along with it voluntarily, precisely because it was so important to him. Then she looked at me seriously again and asked if I could understand and accept that. I swallowed and nodded. My guilty conscience of having ambushed them was weighing heavily on me. In a sudden fit of remorse, I hugged my mother and kept nodding, sobbing that it was all right with me.

I remained reserved and made myself as small as possible. Alfred came in the afternoon in the middle of my game, but noticed nothing and sat down friendly on my bed. Talked back and forth and also about soccer, but then he said in a chummy way that I was already so big and could allow him and her a bit of fun. I nodded silently while he put his hand in the middle of the blanket between my naked thighs and patted me right on the pubic area. "Well, we're big already, aren't we?" he said, patting me again, the blanket finally slipping. I didn't move, but his eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw my naked cunt. Despite all the fear, I felt a certain triumph in upsetting him with my nakedness. Then he abruptly got up and walked over to the bedroom, jerking off.

I feasted on this experience for days, embellishing it further and further as I fantasized and masturbated, and was happy with it for a while. It flattened slowly, I looked for the new kick and went on Sunday morning again to the master bedroom. My mother, who experienced it all quite differently, was very happy that her little girl was back.

This time I snuggled close to her and slept a bit, but of course woke up when Alfred pulled his act again. I leaned my forehead against Mother's bare chest under the covers so she couldn't see my eyes and watched as Alfred's hand stroked Mother's leg and slowly raised it. Then he nibbled on his cock and slowly, quietly and carefully slid it in her vagina. Although I was almost passing out from shame and jealousy, I held my breath as he began to move slowly and rhythmically. His gasps revealed how much he liked it. But he didn't like it that way from the side after all, because he paused and pulled her out from under me, turning her onto her stomach. Now he knelt up and steered his cock in from behind, then braced himself and tangled one hand on my nightgown. As he fucked her, the nightgown shifted higher and higher. I was paralyzed as he had angrily tried to get his tangled hand free, pushing my nightgown up to my thigh.

Alfred stiffened, grabbed my thigh with one hand and now cheekily pushed my nightgown fully up. I lay on the back and had me "in my sleep" pulled a pad over my face, but in reality blinked out from under it and watched him, although I was terribly ashamed of my nakedness. He was violently doing push‐ups on Mother's bottom, which was thrusting towards him, in eerie silence and secrecy, but full of lust. Then he pulled out his cock, rubbed it hard, and squirted long white streaks across Mother's buttocks while staring grimly and with a horny look at my exposed cunt.

My mother turned around and covered herself, then caught sight of my nightgown and pulled it neatly back into place. She hadn't noticed, but I was almost bursting with horniness and soon ran to my room to masturbate to exhaustion. This point went to Alfred, as well as the others. But it should also be his last at the same time.

Some days later I was lying in bed after studying, had already become very aroused and covered up, when I suddenly noticed that Alfred was standing under the door watching me masturbate. Of course, I immediately covered myself and pulled the blanket over my bright red head. "Now, now," Alfred said jovially, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "who's about to!" to pull the blanket off my head. Then he gave a monologue about how nice it actually was, but maybe just to calm me down. Then he told me to go ahead, he'd love to see that, but I shook my head in horror and excitement, no, I really couldn't! He slowly pulled the blanket all the way off and looked me up and down, even though I was uncomfortable and quickly covered my small breasts with my arms. "Well, if you don't like it, okay ‐ but I need it" he said and all at once he unbuttoned his pants. Still excited, I stared at him as he leaned back and rubbed his cock. He looked at me from the side the whole time, then it squirted a little and dripped onto his hairy belly. He lay there in silence for a long time, stroking my legs, then got up and left. I got dressed in a flash and ran to Monika, but then I didn't dare tell her anything.

He let a week or two pass before visiting me again. Apparently he knew exactly how long I sat doing homework and when I slipped into bed to masturbate. He came in just as my orgasm was rolling and I was still daydreaming a bit. Quietly, he sat down on the bed and pulled the covers off. Anxiously I looked at him, for I suspected what was coming next, but he just looked at me closely and then leaned back. Now I knew what was coming, and right, he pulled his underpants all the way down and played around with his stiffening cock for a long time before masturbating properly. When he was already very aroused, he put his hand on my knee and murmured that I should let him look. Anxious and tense, I tried to resist him putting my leg up and bending my knee outward vigorously, but he was much stronger than I was. Then he greedily looked at my slit and quickly squirted on his belly. After he calmed down, he walked out without a word.

His visits became more regular now, his inhibitions faded more and more, soon he forced me to sit up with my legs straddled while he sat opposite me and jerked off. I resisted all his attempts to make me masturbate and watch me do it; my sense of shame just wouldn't allow it. I felt, however, that the moment was getting closer and closer when he would squirt on my thighs and belly, more and more often I considered telling him off to the mother, but I always vacillated between disgust, curiosity and horniness. Although I was repulsed by the situation and it seemed disgusting to me, it stimulated my imagination more and more.

I imagined many situations: from time to time his cock came closer as he squirted. Anxiously I protected my vagina with my fingers, while in the meantime he unabashedly pressed his glans against it and squirted, but at the same time felt the horniness and excitement that his rubbing caused in my abdomen. Sometimes I imagined that my protective fingers joined in his rubbing and secretly rubbed along without him noticing anything, but my horniness grew more and more in the process and when he begged very much and promised to be careful, I pulled my fingers aside and let him rub the glans against the labia, let him squirt directly on the pubic fold, because I too regularly got horny when my protective fingers secretly rubbed along a bit. When I was strongly aroused, I fantasized that I pulled my hand away, allowed his wild rubbing more and more and let his glans, which rhythmically pressed itself between the labia, excite me further and further. Often I imagined it so horny that I opened a little bit and let his glans push into my pubic fold, almost got an orgasm during his jerky, violent squirting between my labia. At that moment, I would have let him do anything. ‐ But when the fantasies were over, I knew this couldn't go on forever.

My mother noticed nothing of all this, she was completely clueless. Sunday morning I lay with her again, supposedly sleeping soundly when Alfred turned her onto her stomach and penetrated her. Unabashedly, the bastard uncovered me and excited himself at my cunt, while he fucked at the same time mother. As good kid I played my part as a half‐dead and let him see everything, I also watched fascinated his fucking. As usually he was ready after a very short time and deliberately squirted inside instead of pulling his cock out.

...ooO | webmaster | | | Ooo...