Miss Janet

It must have been in the summer of '67, when the fairy tale made the rounds among us fellows that during the festival season greedy–horny women were on the lookout for willing–horny fellows among the locals; so whoever thought anything of himself stood willing–horny at gas station exits, loitered willing–horny near the hotels, or flaunted his sport‐steeled boyish body willing–horny at the lido. I always went my own way, so I loitered willingly–horny some days at the train station, since neither Babsi nor Evi were available.

Just laugh, you are right: I had no success at all. Until one day, not only elderly pensioners and rushed ensemble staff, but also a small‐boned but pretty elegant American woman got off the train. I stood willingly–horny but cowardly far back in the waiting room and watched as she struggled with the suitcases, asked the stationmaster something and reaped perplexed shoulder shrugs; hardly anyone spoke English back then, after all.

I saw my chance. The coward came closer, asked the stationmaster politely without a sideways glance at the lady if he could be of assistance. The stationmaster mumbled that he hadn't understood her just now, so I took the initiative. Yes, she would look for a hotel, the ANKER would have been recommended to her. The stationmaster mumbled that it was a pretty run‐down place and that she should try the HERMES or TERMINUS. I translated verbatim that the ANKER would also be quite okay in the opinion of the officer and I would like to accompany her there, it would be just around the corner.

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The lady thanked me and gave her name, which I have since forgotten; Miss Janet something. She was very short, maybe 1.50m tall and middle‐aged, certainly 35 or 40 by now.

It seemed to me that she was somehow misshapen; yes, that was it – her head sat very low between her shoulders, she seemed to have a too‐short torso and very, very long but spindly legs. There was no time now for longer observations, I preceded the small, petite person, with the largest suitcase in my hand. After a few minutes we reached the ANCHOR. She was frightened because it was really a dump, but I ran into the backyard and got the hard of hearing old woman, who then rented the room. We trudged up, I carried the luggage up and went to say goodbye.

She asked me to stay, and while she unpacked and busily walked back– and forth, she chattered incessantly, telling about her home. I got a soda, we smoked her Lucky Strikes, and she chattered away like a child. I looked at her more closely. She actually had a tiny torso and very long legs, her neck was so short that her head was stuck between her hunched shoulders. It seemed to me that she had a small hump. What I found amazing were her thin, long legs that reached up quite high – she had something of a flamingo. She was a teacher at an art school, where she taught anatomical drawing to the budding young painters. And so on. After about an hour she let me go, but asked me as I was leaving if I could come back tomorrow. She wanted to draw me.

I was confused because I didn't know exactly what that meant; but she smiled very nicely and said yes in my place. Then I left and came back the other day, as she had said.

First I had to clear up some comprehension problems between her and the landlady; no, she wanted another breakfast. I was happy when, after some prolonged mediation, I was able to squeeze the price and in return the breakfast was cancelled. Miss Janet or Jeanette whispered to me that breakfast could not be eaten! But a new problem arose.

The good Miss Janet had lost or misplaced her festival ticket voucher; now she said she was already there and couldn't leave without festival tickets, could I maybe get her tickets? I shook my head and said that usually the performances had been sold out for months, even years. I knew Charly, who was doing a lot of black market business with tickets, but I kept it to myself. I did not believe a word of their voucher story, I'm not crazy.

I drank my lemonade and thought, out loud I said I might try it. She said she was sure I could come up with tickets, yes, get two right away, one for her and one for me. Her hand rested trustingly on my thigh. We drank cold lemonade and smoked her Lucky Strikes.

Then she said I could take my clothes off now. – Sorry, what?! — She smiled mildly, flipped open her big folder and lifted out a few sheets: look, this is how I draw! And I looked and saw all kinds of naked men or women, scribbled in all kinds of poses, some of them only half‐finished. Apparently she was a genius, because the drawings were of a captivating perfection, the horniness and excitement of the depicted people so real that I had to shiver. The depiction of female and male genitalia was exceedingly accurate and realistic, the squirting cocks and wide‐open, aroused pussies were in full action. In some sketches, cocks and pussies joined so realistically that you could really see the squirting in the pussy true to life, as if a mini‐camera had recorded it. She smiled again and told me to stand there next to the window, naked, and look out of the window.

I was embarrassed. She had said drawing, but there was never any mention of naked. But she had something hypnotic in her gaze, and besides, the nude drawings earlier had made me very horny. I was coy for a long time, didn't want to know anything about it, but she pushed me until I hesitantly dropped first my shirt, then my pants, and stood there in my underpants. She stood me by the window, took my head and turned it so that I looked out, commanding how I should raise my shoulders and introduce my foot.

Then she sat by the table for a long time, drawing one sheet after another full, throwing them on the bed or the floor to start a new one. After some time, I was already getting quite tired and dull from the crooked posture, she put away her drawing pad and pencil and came to me. Gently she stroked my upper arm, grabbed my waistband and with a quick jerk she pulled down my underpants, my cock sprang out.

I winced and tried to hide it behind my hands, but she made me get out of my underpants and then took my hands away. She smiled, looked up at me and shook her head reprovingly, saying that it was already allright! Examining me, she moved back to my shoulders and pelvis, pulled one leg forward and unabashedly lifted my cock, looking only briefly as the glans emerged from the foreskin.

She sat down again and drew, long and dogged. I stood and stood, growing more and more tired, and my cock had soon taken its leave, dangling listlessly down. But I was now almost not afraid to stand there naked. Several times she got up, came to me and turned me into another position; she pulled the cock up again and stroked it firmly a few times until it stood stiff again. She stroked the cock only briefly, so as not to give the impression of masturbating, and since it did get quite wet, she dried it with the flat of her hand, then sat down and continued drawing.

She paused, came to me and looked at me questioningly; I didn't know what to say from embarrassment and just shook my head. She held the glans of the flaccid in her hand and looked at me for a long time examining it, stroking it delicately with her fingertips until the cock became completely stiff again. All the time she looked smilingly into my desperate eyes. Again and again she drove smiling with the thumb tip over the glans, again a tiny little drop splashed out.

Miss Janet sensed that he was very close to squirting and smiled finely, then with a surprisingly quick hand movement she pulled the foreskin all the way back two–three times. She bent low and began to masturbate me with a very serious face and without any shyness. Tirelessly she masturbated, pausing in between to tease the glans with her thumb. With a firm hand she masturbated and sometimes looked up at me if it was already so far.

But I held back for a long time and enjoyed masturbating. When my cock started to throb, she rubbed really hard and let the thick stream shoot out wide, rubbing slower as I continued to squirt and as long as the last drop oozed out and dripped onto the floor as if in slow motion. She smiled and nodded, dabbed it all up with a paper tissue and cleaned the glans.

My cock was still quite stiff, again she kneaded it with light pressing, murmuring that she needed me erected, but it should not torture me, that's why we do this. After a short break she masturbated me again, this time very gently. When he stood stiff again, she seemed satisfied with the result, because she sat down to draw again without a word. When he went limp again, she did not stand up, but continued to draw in concentration, barely looking up at me.

After about half an hour, she said it was enough, it was noon. I got dressed and was about to leave, but she called me back once more. Obediently, I came back to the door, and she mentioned the festival tickets again. I said that it would be very difficult to get tickets now, and then surely only at double the price. She gave me the money without batting an eye and said she really wanted to go to the performance, today or tomorrow! She stood very close to me, looked up at me and tapped my pants with her hand, directly on my cock: you'll like it if you make it!

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As I ran out, my thoughts rushed. What had she promised me? What exactly was the reward, what will I like then? Oh, for sure she meant I could fuck her! Of course, for sure, because she had certainly become quite horny after she had let me squirt while standing as her model, after she had played with my glans! Inspired by this thought, I hurried to the moped, drove like a maniac to Charly, who promptly laughed and said that the tickets for tonight cost a fortune. No, Charly, don't talk nonsense now, I urgently need two tickets! He delayed the negotiation for a long time and then named his price, which was still lower than what I had quoted to the American. Okay, I said, you are a crook, but I need them! So I got the tickets and went back to the ANKER.

The lady – Janet, Joanne or Jeanette, I don't remember – was pleased that I had succeeded and showed me some drawings she had made that afternoon. She drew beautifully, I was quite awestruck as I looked at picture after picture. I saw a naked young man looking out of a prison into the woods, where dimly a woman's figure billowed beneath the trees.... I feigned wow and hey, but I didn't recognize anyone in that picture. Especially not me, because I didn't have such a sooo long, steeply towering cock like this incarcerated young god.

Then I said that the performance starts already in half an hour. She became nervous and looked for this and that dress, cleared out the suitcases almost in their entirety and again dismissed the idea of putting on one or the other. I despaired because the hand of my wristwatch was moving steadily. Then she said that she would put this one on. I wanted to go out, but she laughed loudly and said sit there. So I sat in the chair, gazing strained out the window while she stripped completely naked without any shyness, presenting herself and her naked front freely and hiding her hump coyly, selecting and discarding garments indecisively. She checked out of the corner of her eye that I was captivated by her nakedness, and it seemed to me that she was secretly enjoying it. I coyly peeked out of the corner of my eye to look at her small, misshapen body. I looked at the small, sagging breasts and at her pubic area. Only a tiny black bush the size of a thumbnail perched above her pubic fold, the entire pubic area itself was completely hairless and erotically naked all around, revealing the large, dark labia. Clearly I recognized the clit in the pubic fold, either Missy Janet was already very aroused or the clit was quite large, in any case this clit captivated me. But I did not dare to look any longer.

The performance lasted a long time, we applauded enthusiastically and she hooked herself in my arm as we walked back to the ANKER. I waited, heart pounding, to see what my reward would be. But she had apparently forgotten. All she kept talking about was how hungry she was, she hadn't eaten all day. I said awkwardly and in passing that I had found the tickets, had traveled halfway across town to get them, and that she had said I would get something in return. But she didn't seem to listen to me, pushed a few bills into my hand and told me to please get something to eat. Preferably chicken.

So I swung back on my rocket, went here and there, but nowhere did I get chicken. Only after about an hour I could get hold of a piece of grilled chicken with fries in a small neighboring village, bought another Coca–Cola and started the way back.

In the ANKER, everything was already quiet. I went up quietly, knocked on the door. A "Who is it?" sounded softly, I said it was me and I had a chicken too! She opened. Apparently she had already gone to bed, because she had on only a silk undergarment (negligé, I later learned) with nothing underneath. Her face was hot, and I stared at her body, which was clearly visible through the undergarment by the light from the room behind. Her arousal was obvious, I had apparently disturbed her "in the middle of it".

Just come in, she said, what did you get? After a pause, she added, I was beginning to think you'd run off with the money because you hadn't come back in so long! Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and looked into the paper bag. "Oh, a rotisserie chicken, and fries, and Coke! That's very nice and sweet of you! Come, sit next to me!"

I sat there, sweating in this hot summer night, looking at her from the side. She had bitten the chicken, some fries in her mouth and was chewing, feeding me fries in between. I opened the can of Coke and placed it in front of her, my hand brushing over her bare upper arm as I walked back. She noticed because she looked at me and smiled at me strangely. After a while she asked if I didn't want some, greedily chewing her chicken and stroking my face with the back of her hand. I shook my head, because I was not hungry.

I sat next to her, hanging my head a little and thinking how I could get ahead; time was pressing, because I was supposed to be home by midnight at the latest! I wanted to fuck her, no matter what the cost! After some time I carefully felt for her arm with my hand, stroked her. She smiled. I stroked her shoulders, avoiding touching her hump, she smiled imperceptibly. My hand sank groping lower, stopped at her armpit and carefully slid forward, to her breast.

Jeanne – or Janet, whatever – looked at me, smiling, and continued to chew. I paused, not knowing what to do next. She turned around now, let herself sink back on the pillows and put one leg on the bed, right next to me, so that the silk dress slid up; even looking firmly into her eyes, I had to see her pubic, her vaginal cleft. She kept smiling, biting and chewing on the damn shitty chicken. At some point I couldn't hold my gaze, it sank lower and lower, looking deep and long at her secret jewels.

I was completely fascinated, as her vagina was covered by labia that were disproportionately large and dangling down the sides like limp cockscombs. I couldn't see much, but caught a glimpse of the perky pink clit sticking out above. I couldn't help it now, hesitantly I reached out and stroked her thighs, her hair frizz; then I unbuttoned my pants and took out my hard‐on.

Janet laughed softly and leaned the knee now fully to the side, her pubic opened willingly and I lay down on her legs, dressed as I was. Guided the cock with my hand to her pubic, but did not get that far, because I lay there completely twisted. Initially I was disturbed by the arrangement: the delicate little lady lying backwards on the bed, naked in her silk shirt, holding a chicken leg in her hand and chewing, while a big, dumb native tried in vain to fuck her.

After that it bothered me less and less, I concentrated on my pleasure and pushed my cock further and further with my hand, but didn't get far enough because she was lying back and I was sitting very awkwardly twisted sideways. She chewed and chewed and looked me incessantly smiling in the face, while I struggled in vain and tugged on my poor cock.

Miss Janet now put away the gnawed chicken leg and turned to me. She reached between her thighs and grabbed my cock, pulling me to her. I followed and stretched and then knelt on the bed, directly in front of her vagina. She held the cock tightly and began rubbing her clit and vaginal entrance with it, but she didn't put it in; she even pushed me back when I tried. She rubbed it firmly on her labia, then on her clit, and then just on her clit firmly back and forth, up and down. This was so horny that I felt I was about to squirt.

I pushed and pushed further, but could not overcome her defiant resistance. She pushed me supine and swung her legs over me until she was sitting on top of me. With one swift movement she took off the negligé and threw it on the floor. Now she straightened up, guided my glans – and only the glans! – into her vagina. She closed her eyes and began to masturbate herself with one finger. She held my glans captive with her vagina and masturbated for a very long time. I watched every movement and felt the twitching of her vagina with the glans. She threw back her head and orgasmed, her vagina pumped on my glans and with a wailing sound she lowered herself low on my cock, on my chest.

Quickly I grabbed her and laid her on her back. I spread her legs and glanced only briefly at her pumping, gaping vaginal entrance and thrust in. With firm, deep thrusts I fucked her, gazing unblinkingly at her face and closed eyes. I felt that she immediately began to pump violently with her vagina, again and again. But although I fucked obediently and devotedly, she did not come to climax over this violent pumping. And in the middle of her pumping convulsions I squirted, holding her by the buttocks and squirting until nothing came. It smelled like chicken and semen and vanilla as my cock went limp. Then I sat up, panting, and tended to my wet cock in my pants.

I'm not having kids, she said abruptly, but I need to wash up. She walked over to the shower and closed the door, but it kept popping open. She cursed angrily as it swung open slightly, then she took a shower. When the water wouldn't stop rushing, I got up and crept to the door and peeked in through the crack. She was crouching like a frog with her thighs wide open over the stream of water, her face turned toward the door. I saw that she was masturbating with her head down, directing the jet of water to her pubic area with one hand while the other jerked back and forth on her clit. But it was over too, she curled up in a crouch and gasped restrainedly, her wet buttocks and naked pubic rapidly jerking up and down like the rear end of a wasp. After an infinity, she looked up and saw me standing there gawking.

She blushed violently, got out of the shower tray and reached for a towel, then rubbed herself dry and looked at my face unblinkingly. She put one leg provocatively on the edge of the bath chair, shamelessly showing her open cunt and rubbing her pubic dry, looked at me again and smiled, although her face was still as red as a beetroot. I lowered my eyes in embarrassment and said that it was already very late and I had to go home. But you'll come tomorrow afternoon, she asked, we were going to continue with the model standing?! I said yes and left quickly. Actually, I didn't know if I wanted to come back again.

The next day I slept until noon. However, I couldn't get Miss Janet out of my mind; it was her last day, she would be leaving in the next morning. Around noon I became restless and went to the ANCHOR with red ears and hot loins, paced up and down indecisively, then crept up quietly.

Miss Janet said come in when I knocked. She sat in the chair, dressed only in her negligé, balancing her sketch pad on her knees and working. I sat quietly in the second chair and waited. She looked really beautiful today, I looked at her body long and inquiringly. She was completely naked under the gauzy negligé and in her concentration she didn't care if and how much I could see – namely everything. The ash fell from the butt onto her leg, but she kept drawing, not caring about it or me. She showed me the picture, it was really beautiful! A muscular faun – so thank God not me – was lying in a clearing, his thick curved cock stuck in a petite fairy who was writhing excitedly around him. A terrific, very horny picture.

Janet noticed that I was staring between her thighs and closed her legs a little irritated. I looked up at her, she had a very sad look. After a long silence she said softly that you don't often find a man with that – she pointed to her humped back –. I was startled and rowed against the current as best I could with my 19 years; but Miss Janet remained sad.

After a while she said the light was favorable, I should pose again. No longer as shy as the day before, I uncovered myself and stood by the window. She came to me again, turned and turned me, then began to draw again quickly. Sheet after sheet she threw carelessly on the floor, began again, as if possessed. Standing up again and again to correct my posture; she now reached naturally for my cock and again excited the glans with the tip of her thumb until it stood well. Again she positioned me back and forth and back again, moved my shoulders and hips, kept pulling my cock up, gripping my balls and looking at me with wide eyes as it was already throbbing violently.

I controlled myself, though her gentle touches, light as the flap of a butterfly's wing, almost drove me mad. She smiled and said it looked like he was about to spit again (yes, spit she said). She pressed up against me and looked deep into my eyes, her look was irritating and mysterious, then her wrist raced up and down with lightning speed, she masturbated me as she did very routinely yesterday and let out a thick white stream. She rubbed slowly until the last drop.

She let me rest for a long time, drawing doggedly on, making gorgeous bodies appear on the paper. At some point she reached for me again and stroked me for minutes until it was hard and erect again. More sheets were painted, in between she now let me squat and attack the tail with one hand; yes, attack it properly, see that it remains stiff, and it remained so because I lightly pressed and kneaded it. Again she came over and released me from this uncomfortable, tiring position. Lie down on the bed, she said, very lightly and loosely, lie there as if dead!

So I lay there, as if dead, she sat on the chair and sketched sheet after sheet. It must have been hours again, my cock had long since hung to the side, Janet bent over and gently caressed my loins, my inner thighs and testicles, drove very lightly over the cock, which then stood again. But I didn't want to lie there like dead anymore. So I moved a little to the side, turned my head and looked at her. I reached out with one hand and touched her knee, pulled it gently to the side and looked under the negligé. She paused, then saw my cock erect again as I looked between her thighs. She smiled a little, then resolutely slipped the negligee over her head and dropped it carelessly to the floor.

Now she drew naked, with open thighs, let me see everything. I looked and looked and became really horny, my cock no longer had to be asked to stand – he stood upright like a guardsman and began to throb like my heart after a short while. Janet continued to draw, now posed a little for her part and horned me up even more, kept looking at my throbbing cock. I could tell she was getting aroused herself and I felt I was going to have to squirt soon. A few tiny little drops came off the tip of the glans and ran slowly down the shaft. Miss Janet put away her pad and pencil and knelt beside me.

Her hand caressed my cock, very gently only, and she avoided jerking me off. At the same time she caressed and stroked her breast with her other hand. She could now feel my cock throbbing and stiff to bursting. She sat up, then squatted spider‐like over me, touching the wet glans with her vagina. I tried to thrust up from below, but she pulled back, grabbed the cock and rubbed it against the outside of her vagina. She sighed loudly as she rubbed the clit with the glans for the first time, then looked down, between her legs, and brushed the clit with the glans, concentrating and speeding up.

I pushed and pushed further, defiantly overcoming her resistance and slowly penetrating while my seed was already spurting over her clit, labia and vagina. Janet closed her eyes and slowly sank down on top of me, burying my cock inside her. Her vagina opened softly, very wide, then she dipped her butt up and down a few times and kept rubbing her clit until the squirting stopped completely. She came only after a really long masturbation, I felt the pumping and twitching with my flaccid cock still in her vagina.

Even as she pulled my flaccid out with a delicate hand and slid off me as light as a feather, I slept wearily away. When I awoke half an hour later, we embraced and kissed. We talked about this and that, I let my hand slide between her thighs and palpated them, but she immediately withdrew when I made clear masturbation movements. I then asked her directly if she didn't want to masturbate with and in front of her lover? She blushed, opened her eyes and shook her head in denial. I said I had seen her yesterday in the shower, so why not?

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She was silent for a long time. Then she said that she was so much older than me and that she was shy about it, also because culturally "with us" this belonged to the very private part of life and we were still strangers to each other. Then she stopped and said after a short silence that she was ugly. I did not want to accept that and said that I had observed her yesterday while masturbating and earlier in bed while fucking, and she had been beautiful, really beautiful!

Miss Janet blushed when I complimented her and did not look me in the eye. I hugged her very tenderly and told her that in bed, during sex, she looked much more beautiful than some other women I had fucked. She became even redder, fought with the tears and we continued cuddling for a long time until I had to go home.

The next morning I was over punctual at Janet's, more than an hour early. She had already packed and was sitting on the edge of the bed ready to go. I kissed her, not so much greeting as greedy kissing and heavy necking on the bed. She held my forearm and glanced at the wristwatch. Would you like a quickie, she murmured, and since I didn't know the word and didn't answer, she let herself sink back and, still fully dressed, flipped up her summer skirt. Quickie? she asked again, smiling and pushing her panties aside. I slowly penetrated her vagina with my cock and we fucked, happily whooping. After squirting, I squatted on my heels and looked at her throbbing pussy.

Janet kept her eyes closed, she had not been able to orgasm while fucking and was still very aroused. You may watch, she then whispered, you may watch. She began to masturbate, very long and kept her eyes closed. I looked unblinkingly at her clit, which now, after the fucking, seemed only half stiff. But now, during masturbation it became visibly hard, thick and very big, almost as big as a quarter of my little finger. She circled her finger tirelessly on the stiff clit, sometimes dipping her finger into the vagina to moisten the clit. After endless masturbation, she orgasmed, her clit jerking steeply upward again and again where she touched it delicately. Her abdomen rolled, her vagina pumped and she twitched her legs and then lay very still. When she opened her eyes and looked at me beaming with a happy smile, we kissed for a long time. Afterwards I took her to the station and slipped her a note with my address.

Although today I do not judge my role at that time so gloriously, I believe that at that time she was happy at least for a few minutes. I thought of her long and often later; she had my address but never wrote to me, so her image in my mind slowly faded.

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