Tired Heroes (spicy)

Bodnar lay sleepless in bed, Laura sleeping peacefully beside him. His hand lay beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms, caressing her soft, sparse down; it had a calming effect on him. He had been stunned when Wallner dismissed him and sent him into early retirement, just as he had announced. Even so, it came as a surprise, precisely at the moment the Frank Halter case was closed. He had gathered his belongings from his desk and left without a word. He walked silently past Rosenblatt, who had extended his hand. Laura had dropped her pen onto the homework book, crept into bed with him, and lovingly undressed him. She had become Bodnar's little wife days ago, a week ago perhaps, and had been making the most of every minute with him ever since.

But Bodnar's mind was far away. How had all this shit even started!? Back when he was still in vice, he had rescued Yvette from the mire abyss; otherwise, she would have died on the streets. He liked the little one; she was the most grateful wife in the world, a lustful wildcat who challenged him sexually every day. He had had quite a few lovers before, but none like her. He had never had a girl or a woman who orgasmed so easily and so often during sex. She ended every day by masturbating, no matter how many times she had orgasmed during sex. He loved the cheeky, unbridled way she lived out her sexuality. He had to grudgingly acknowledge that he had also preserved her libido. She masterfully feigned remorse and unhesitatingly embarked on the next affair. He might beat her, punch her in the face. Her desires controlled her life, even as she grew older.

Yvette truly loved him, with all her heart. No, she distinguished very clearly between gratitude and love, a love that only blossomed in the first months of their marriage. He was a good-natured Grumpy bear who usually turned a blind eye to her prostitution. She quickly discovered how receptive he was to variety. She had a full phone book of willing girls and women, and now she thrilled him with many magnificent threesomes. She herself was bisexual and devoured the girls and women before his greedy eyes. Then it was his turn to properly fuck her partner. Yvette was very proud of his magnificent, potent virility. He reminded her of her father, who had made her a woman at 13 and for years had sex with her next to her grieving mother in the marital bed, ultimately turning her into a whore. But he was an impressively potent man, and Yvette admired him greatly. Now it was she who provided her husband with so many women, as an added bonus to their marital sex — probably hundreds. When one woman knelt before the other to lick her clit, he knelt behind her and slid his penis between her buttocks. Most of the time, he was content to simply insert his penis into the woman's cunt; only rarely did he fuck her in that position.

He was always moved when Yvette lured a virgin into her bed. He wasn't a sentimental fool, but whenever he had to deflower a girl, he was always moved to tears. Yvette wouldn't tolerate any objections, and if necessary, she held the terrified girl in her arms like a vise so that Bodnar could deflower her. She didn't care at all that they were essentially raping the poor child; after all, she had come of her own free will, and now there was no turning back. Yvette held the girl tightly in her arms and watched as he gently and sensitively, yet firmly, broke the girl's hymen, then continued to fuck her softly and gently until she orgasmed. Very few girls experienced orgasm so soon after being deflowered; now Yvette's tongue could complete the act. Bodnar was a policeman through and through, so he never asked the girls' ages to avoid feeling like he was committing a crime. These wonderful threesomes and deflowerings forged a strong bond between him and her. But on bad days, her promiscuous promiscuity with other men enraged him. Then he would beat her senseless, and when his anger had subsided, he would masturbate Yvette as a sign that he still loved her. Yvette recognized this and wiped the tears from her eyes.

Even after the first few months of her marriage, she frequently let her father fuck her again on her free mornings and afternoons when Bodnar was at work, because the old man fucked her exceptionally well, far better than anyone else. Perhaps this was just her imagination, perhaps simply because he had been her First and had fucked her for years as a young girl in her parents' bed in front of her mother. Her mother had watched silently and tearfully as her husband deflowered and fucked her own daughter after the mother had given herself to him. Yvette had since early childhood snuggled against her mother's body and watched attentively as her father fucked her mother, and her mother orgasmed like a champion. The mother could never understand why her husband fucked her daughter. Yvette always looked into her mother's dark cunt, from which her father's juices slowly trickled out. The mother always became aroused while watching the incest; she closed her eyes and masturbated slowly and very reverently, watching the incestuous act with a few tears in her eyes. Yvette's heart rejoiced when she saw her mother masturbate, for then her mother forgot all her suffering and gave herself completely to her passion. Yvette gazed at her mother's beautiful, heavily haired fuckhole and her small, pointed clitoris, which she gently rubbed up and down. She and Yvette looked into each other's eyes, and they were two women who, at the same time, masturbated, were fucked, and orgasmed again and again. Yes, for her father had taught little Yvette to run up the hill to orgasm while being fucked and then to jump easily from orgasm to orgasm. Yes, little Yvette loved her lustful mother and her father, who made her jump from orgasm to orgasm. Little Yvette closed her eyes with a smile as her father lifted her by the hips at the end and came with rapid, furious thrusts. Yes, Yvette smiled happily and felt every spurt her father shot into her little pussy. Even now, married to Bodnar, she went to her father's in the late morning and again in the afternoon to be properly fucked twice a day. Her father was now in his fifties, but still potent enough to fuck Yvette twice a day. He still attracted Yvette like a magnet, and she let him fuck her as often as she could discreetly. She was pleased that her mother, even at her age, still masturbated while watching, just as she had always done as a young woman. Only now she had mellowed and smiled as she allowed her husband and daughter a little forbidden pleasure. And so it happened, in an unprotected moment, that her own father impregnated her. Yvette, however, acted as if the child were Bodnar's; otherwise, he would have chased her away or even killed her.

Their child, Laura, always crept into her parents' bed, because watching her parents make love was the most exciting thing for the girl since she was seven. She usually pressed her hot, sweaty face against Yvette's inner thighs to watch the fucking up close. She couldn't get enough of watching his penis stretch Yvette's fuckhole and pound and thrust inside it like a steam engine. Breathless, she stared at his penis when, at the end, he pumped his semen into Yvette's hole in strong spurts. Laura knew that this was the real purpose of fucking and that this was how babies were made. But Yvette didn't want any more children and used contraception very strictly. Laura must have been 12 or 13 when the big fight broke out, and of course it was Yvette's whoreing that sent Bodnar into a rage. Blind with fury, he slammed his fist against Yvette's lips. She had defended herself by scratching and biting and was now wiping the blood from her mouth. "Go ahead and grope the child, you incestuous pig!" she shrieked like a madwoman, "She's not even your own child!" Bodnar froze. Not his child?! No matter how hard he beat her, she would never reveal the father's name. The venomous serpent of suspicion, the goddess Apate, bit its own tail and completed the circle. It explained why little Laura was so foolishly lustful, why she absolutely had to be present when her parents made love, and why she always dragged his hand under the waistband of her pajamas. The realization sank in.

Since that row, he slept in the guest bed, the room adjoining the bedroom without a door; it had probably been the dressing room in former bourgeois times. Bodnar and Yvette now slept in separate beds, listening intently and sullenly to each other's sighs and moans. Siblings in adjacent children's rooms, who hated each other with a passion. Laura didn't have to choose; she naturally slept with her father, pulled his hand under the waistband of her pajamas, and drifted into girlish fantasies. Laura masturbated every night, and Bodnar was very surprised the first night; he hadn't known that before. Laura explained that she had copied Yvette and had done it every night since early childhood. Bodnar, of course, knew from the beginning that Yvette masturbated every night before falling asleep, and he had initially watched her with interest, but at some point, he had seen it. Now Laura pulled off her pajama bottoms and spread her legs apart like a frog.

She instructed him on what to do: to place his hand and fingers very gently on her vulva. Then she slipped her hand under his warm, large hand and vigorously masturbated her clit. He had never seen Laura like this before; panting heavily and sweating, she worked her clit for a good ten or fifteen minutes. Bodnar realized that she masturbated just like Yvette, her finger rubbing her clit in a circular motion, not up and down like some of his extramarital lovers. The girl was sweating with excitement, her eyes rolling back in lust, pressing her finger against her clit in a circular motion with loud gasps. Laura's gasps grew louder as she approached ecstasy, and now her juices flowed over his fingers. She let out a soft piglet's squeal as orgasm shook her body, and in her ecstasy, she pressed one of his fingers against her clit. She whispered, "I'm not finished yet, Daddy," and continued. She usually masturbated two or three times before falling asleep, until she was satisfied. "I've wet your fingers, Daddy," she whispered shyly, cleaning them with her sleeve. She pulled her pajama bottoms back on and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, Daddy," she whispered, pulling his hand under the waistband of her pajamas and placing it on her vulva. Bodnar kissed her forehead. "You did very well, my little one." She fell asleep almost immediately.

Bodnar's flat hand then rested warmly on her mounds, and his middle finger lay calmly along the cleft, the "valley of the dolls." Both her mons pubis and the mounds were hot and round from masturbation, and the soft, blond fuzz tickled his palm slightly. She dreamed and fantasized vividly, but he felt how the purely platonic touch began to form a previously unknown, yet intense father-daughter relationship. Yes, a delicate, soft and innocent plant was growing deep within the grumpy Bodnar's heart. No, Yvette's plant was broken, withered, and dried up, and Bodnar learned to ignore his wife completely. Nevertheless, she was still his wife and looked longingly at her husband and daughter, the two of them nestled together in their sleep. Once a week, Bodnar would stalk into Yvette's room at night and take her wordlessly, selfishly, and without emotion. Yvette and he didn't exchange a word; she had always been very easy to please and would gasp loudly until the orgasms washed over her body. Laura would follow him, her eyes wide open, tormented by despair, envy, and jealousy.

For a whole year, Laura fantasized whenever she felt the warmth of her father's hand. Every night, she masturbated intensely, pressing his flat hand against her clit in ecstasy. She took his fingers and let them glide over her clit. She let his finger plunge into the "valley of the dolls," guiding it over all the wrinkles and dimples to her clit. Her father kept his eyes closed and growled like a bear as she guided his finger in and over her clit. Bodnar knew how innocent and pure of heart these excursions Laura undertook with his finger were and passively allowed it. The little girl put her lips to his ear. "I always do it, just like Mommy does, Daddy," she whispered in his ear. But it took weeks before she could definitively place her father's finger on her clit. "Mommy does it every night too, just like me," she whispered, but Bodnar simply wasn't listening to her. The hunt for Frank Halter haunted him. "Yeah, yeah," he growled absentmindedly, "everyone does it, especially the promiscuous harlots." He didn't care that Laura was working her clit next to him, panting and sweating profusely; his mind was elsewhere.

Like Rosenblatt, he too had fallen for Rachel Kerzendocht. Kerzendocht was a special kind of woman. An ordinary housewife, a shy and devout Jew without any particular charm, a wallflower. But with her clumsy striptease, she revealed her womanly, curvaceous, sinful body. And Bodnar succumbed to every woman who was lustful and driven by desire. Yes, this went against everything that simply shouldn't happen to a detective, but it did. It didn't bother his conscience in the slightest, since Rosenblatt felt the same way.

Laura continued, unwaveringly carrying on step by step. She now took his finger, intending to do the same to herself as her mother did. This was too much for the self-appointed moral guardian, who beat his conscience black and blue. But he couldn't undo Laura's actions. Bodnar's heart stopped for a moment as Laura took his finger like a pencil and drew circle after circle on her clit. Her tongue, tightly clamped between her lips, she diligently continued drawing the picture, panting and sweating. The child left no spot untouched, meticulously filling every empty space with color. Laura guided his fingertip along the moist path, letting it dance on her clit for many minutes, and after the ecstasy, she wrapped her girlish arms around his neck. Her fingers gripped the pencil tightly as ecstasy made her tremble and twitch. She sighed deeply and whispered in his ear, "You must thrust into me like Yvette, please—please!" But now he firmly rebuked her. "Never, Laura, never! You are my daughter, and I am not a child molester!" But Laura merely shrugged and continued her whispered begging relentlessly, every night.

Laura wept silently, for with tears she could get anything from Papa, anything at all. Bodnar's eyes trembled; he couldn't bear to see Laura cry. Of course, Yvette followed all this with unease and vigilance, as she did every night; she could hear even the faintest whisper. "If you won't push me like Yvette," the little girl whispered calculatingly, triumphantly sizing him up beneath veiled, tear-filled eyes, "then at least do the finger play for me, Papa, please! The way Yvette does it, the proper finger play!" Bodnar's heart softened, as did his mind. "Very well, then soften up, like Yvette does when she needs it badly. You've surely been spying on her," Bodnar grumbled, with the queasy feeling of a loser. Laura nodded in a whisper, "Yes, Papa, of course I'm spying. She does it every night after you've fallen asleep." Laura pulled her pajamas all the way down and spread her legs, bent like frog legs. She had won again, and it felt divine, simply goddamn divine. Bodnar's fingertip found her clit, of course. He had remembered well how Laura had guided his finger and did the same, painting the colorful picture with a steady hand. He watched Laura's slightly twitching and sweaty face, full of affection, pouring all his love over her clit and rose until she trembled and twitched all over. It was a small price to pay to avoid having to really thrust, he defended himself against the grumpy vice cop. And from now on, Laura demanded his finger play every night.

He had been whispering with Rosenblatt in the coffee corner. Rosenblatt was a good friend, and had openly and frankly described his affair with Elli to him. For Rosenblatt, it was the most natural thing in the world; he didn't allow rules or laws across the threshold of his bedroom. This was his privacy, his private kingdom, and the princess got the king. It sounded so simple when Rosenblatt spoke of it. With glittering eyes, Bodnar slowly leafed through the slut's nude photos. Of course, he recognized her lustful nature instantly; he knew all such women from his time in the vice squad. Greedy harpies who weren't just after the suitor's money, but who also greedily devoured everyone to stuff them into their great, insatiable emptiness. He understood perfectly now why Rosenblatt called her nothing but "the slut". But Elli, posing obscenely, almost took his breath away. The daughter was just as much a slut as her mother, and he wasn't at all surprised that Rosenblatt had taken her. Elli still had plenty of baby fat, but her breasts were gradually taking shape in the style of the great slut. Her pointed teats stood out boldly, aggressive and by no means innocent. Her very femininity was already a weapon, ready to devour foolish Danaans. Both the slut and Elli burned themselves indelibly into Bodnar's retina.

He reluctantly handed Rosenblatt the phone back, the big slut and the little slut dancing the cha-cha-cha in Bodnar's mind. "No, Rosenblatt, I'll never sleep with my Laura, not in a million years!" He reluctantly handed his iPhone to Rosenblatt; after all, he had plenty of nude photos of Yvette and Laura. Rosenblatt commented with a connoisseur's eye. "Yvette, well, maybe not my league, Bodnar. More breasts and more hips, that's where I need her. But Laura, she's much slimmer and more delicate than my Elli. Those small, girlish breasts, magnificent and like the finest porcelain! And the soft, light blonde fuzz enhances her girlishness even more. Elli already has to trim her bush with scissors, my old champ. Laura will probably challenge you more and demand more from you than Yvette!" Rosenblatt's eyes caressed Laura's beautiful, girlish body for minutes. "One day, when you're ready, Bodnar, we'll have to share the girls!" But Bodnar shook his head and said firmly, "Not in a million years, Rosenblatt!" At the same time, a scream rose within him, a scream of desire for Elli, the little slut. Yes, a steamy friendship developed between them, and they exchanged their nude photos, giggling like schoolboys.

Bodnar released Laura's nipples as her ecstasy began to roll. Yvette coughed like someone with lung disease, but Bodnar ignored his wife; this wasn't her business, it was none of her concern, damn it. Rosenblatt came up with the idea. "Bodnar, what's one of Frank Halter's weaknesses? His mother, yes, his beloved mother. It would cut him to the core if we stopped treating her with kid gloves. If we used her like Kerzendocht, brazenly and quite indecently. It will cut him to the core, shatter his twisted masculinity, if we take her for our amusement and fuck her properly like Rachel. It will drive him crazy, and he'll make mistakes. What do you think?" Bodnar had to agree; Rosenblatt understood something about psychology, not just the morning dew. Bodnar pointed out that the old woman was really old, wrinkled and withered, only in the arms of Kerzendocht did she still awaken. Rosenblatt nudged him in the side. "Get a grip, old friend! For God, the King, and England!"

Bodnar had been playing this finger game with Laura for months now, and she finally stopped talking about thrusting and being thrusted. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "I learned how to do it to boys at school." Nothing more, just a casual remark after the fingering game. Laura straightened up and pulled Bodnar's trousers off. She knelt between his thighs, pulled back his circumcised foreskin, and exposed the glans. Again, she clamped her tongue between her lips and did it to him, quickly, expertly, and sweatily, rubbing him hard until he ejaculated. He watched her while she rubbed him. She was 13, maybe 14, and very slim, almost boyish. She didn't have proper breasts yet, but on the small mounds, he could see her pointed, stiff nipples. The pale pink nipples trembled in time with her vigorous rubbing. He stared at these nipples; they were so different from Yvette's. He asked where she had learned how to rub boys. She said Jack and Freddie, her best friends, had let her try and practice. "And then what?" he asked. "Well, the two of them are allowed to masturbate in front of my cunt, and when they come, I spread my labia with my fingers and they can ejaculate inside, as far as it could go. No, they're not allowed to fuck me, I made that very clear to them. My dad will do it the first time when he's ready." He had to avoid her intense gaze. She stared at the opening in his glans and continued rubbing firmly. "I always thought Jewish men didn't have foreskins." He understood her question. "Circumcisers don't cut off the whole foreskin, just the very tip." "Aha," she nodded, "I see." With wide, open eyes, she watched his spurting ejaculation, letting his semen splash across her breast and wiping it away with her sleeve. "I can do it for you every night if you like, Dad." He nodded. "Yes, that would be really nice if you always did it for me, Laura." He later slipped his hand under the waistband of her pajamas and fell asleep almost immediately, while Laura continued to masturbate vigorously.

Laura whispered, "Is it really okay to swallow it, Papa? The others say it's de-li-ci-ous." Bodnar was too tired to correct her. "Fine by me, Laura, it's not poisonous," he whispered wearily. Laura's lips lowered over his glans before the ejaculation and closed tightly around it, and she continued to rub him. Now he had to ejaculate, and the semen spurted into her mouth, and she swallowed it all with a pleasurable shudder. Yvette looked over from the other side and coughed loudly and emphatically. Her Laura knelt between his thighs, eagerly milking his semen, her tongue clamped in the corner of her mouth by her lips, and now she bent over to drink and swallow Bodnar's semen like a cheap streetwalker. Yvette held her breath until Laura had slurped and swallowed everything. All she could do was cough loudly in disapproval. Laura ignored her cough completely and cleaned Bodnar with the sleeve of her pajamas. - He had swallowed hard. Laura had taken him by surprise, without warning, without any fuss. Her comrades had instructed her precisely how it was done; they had certainly given Laura a demonstration on a live subject. Yvette sat up agitatedly in bed and coughed emphatically and very disapprovingly. Bodnar jumped up angrily and stomped over to Yvette. He threw her brutally onto the pillows and took her roughly and brutally, panting and puffing like a bull. She is and was just as much of a slut as Rosenblatt's ex; she had no right to cough here!

It was clear that neither Hofstätter nor Morgentau approved of his and Rosenblatt's actions. Ron said, "Frank Halter will be annoyed, yes. But he's not stupid enough to make a colossal mistake over this. He thinks like a killer, not an altar boy, folks. He'd drown dead his own mother if it suited his purposes." But Bodnar remained unmoved. He met Morgentau's accusing glare. "No, we're not the idiots, not us!" he grumbled. "Your father was a rabbi, and you're still the sweet little pastor's daughter, Doctor! There's no such thing as the perfect detective, in shining armor on a snow-white stallion. Wake up, Rosa, we have to deal with the lowest scum of this city and get our hands dirty! It's not us who are delaying the arrest. It's you who lets him rape you regularly, God knows what good that's supposed to do! You just let him screw you over like crazy instead of putting a bullet in his head!" Bodnar turned around and simply left them standing there. Ron said laconically, "There's something to that, Rosa!"

Bodnar had returned from his bar crawl. He was quite tipsy, but not drunk. He had the feeling he'd only been sent to the bars so he wouldn't annoy everyone at the office. Laura lay half-naked on his bed, her bare legs spread like a frog, rubbing her clit with intense sweating. She smiled sweetly at him and whispered that she'd been working on it for hours. He threw himself onto the bed and watched her performance with a warm shudder. He watched approvingly for a while and then undressed. He placed his dick on her thighs. Laura paused only briefly, pulled back the foreskin, and took the glans in her mouth grinning and continuing. Yvette was also lying on her bed, giggling and snickering on the phone, and stroking her breasts. Bodnar grinned; all that was missing was him joining in. But it didn't occur to him. Laura was panting and sweating and whispering that she was far from finished. She had already come so far that she only needed a few moments to reach her next ecstasy.

Laura's ecstasy made her tremble and twitch wildly. She grabbed him and, with a mischievous smile, pulled him between her frog-like legs. The head of his penis touched her moist clit. Bodnar grinned through the glittering curtain left behind by the drinks and aperitifs. "I think you want to take me over the edge today, my little one." Laura wiped the sweat from her face and continued with her clit. "No, Daddy, I just want to feel you very close, very close." Tiny beads of sweat detached from her forehead and ran down her heated cheeks. Bodnar's loins grew hotter as the head of his penis touched her dancing vulva. "You're about to take me over, my love," he gasped helplessly, his passion burning brightly.

A heavenly light shone across Laura's face. "Thrust, really thrust like Yvette?" Bodnar nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe today is your big day, your lucky day." Laura looked at him with wide eyes. "Yes, Daddy, today is my lucky day. You want to take me like Yvette, finally!" He shook his head. "No, child, I want to be gentle and tender with you, not rough and brutal like with Yvette!" Heat spilled down from his navel. "It'll sting the first time, little princess," he murmured. Laura smiled knowingly. "I know, Daddy!" and pulled him forward impatiently. "Well then, in God's name!" murmured our good Bodnar and thrust forward. Her hymen offered little resistance; it tore with a soft pop, and he pushed his cock deep into her virginal little hole. He hadn't felt such a delicate, fine, and tight fuckhole in a long time, perhaps only in the beginning, when Yvette had brought him virgins to deflower. Laura flinched slightly, but didn't make a sound. She gazed wide into his eyes, amazed like a child before a wonderfully glittering Christmas tree. He fucked her gently until she, as easily as Yvette, leaped violently from orgasm to orgasm, then he ejaculated inside her. After their shared happy ending, he slid to the side. Laura snuggled against him, her lips on his neck. "Daddy, how many times can men actually go?" she asked. He was still drunk. "It depends. Once, twice, or three times, if you ask me." She pulled him between her thighs, and he did it to her a second and a third time. Freed from all his demons, he poured his seed inside her without hesitation, once, twice, and three times.

Yvette had ended her spicy phone call and stared in disbelief at the scene in the guest bed. "You did it, you monster!" she shrieked, her first words in months. Bodnar fucked Laura slowly and deliberately, who squealed with orgasm again and again. He held out his outstretched hand to Yvette, his index finger extended. "Shut your mouth, I'm telling you!" But Yvette continued to shriek and hurl the most obscene names at him. He stopped the fourth round with a growl and climbed out of bed cursing. Naked and broad-shouldered, he stomped over to Yvette. She continued to shriek that he had raped the poor child! That was the last straw. He slapped his wife, the likes of which she had never received before; spit and blood flew from her mouth onto the carpet. "Shut your mouth, I said!" he said in a voice that seemed to rise from the depths of his soul. He felt the blood rushing to his loins. He grabbed Yvette and took her as roughly and brutally as he hadn't in a long time. Yvette then curled up on the sheet. Bodnar lifted one of her legs until her genitals were open like a ripe fruit, defenseless, and masturbated her quickly and expertly. He hadn't done it for months; it was always a sign that, despite all his roughness, he still liked her somehow. Yvette closed her eyes and quickly had a second, third and fourth orgasm. Bodnar slapped her buttocks roughly several times, really hard. "I don't want to hear another word, do you hear me? Run and get her the pill if you have an ounce of decency left!"

Bodnar had slept off his drunkenness; Laura was still fast asleep. He heaved himself out of bed and stepped into the shower. There he woke up, more sober than ever. He had done the terrible thing; he had thrown away his honor like a used tissue. A police officer, a vice squad officer, a detective never did such a thing. Not in a million years. He crouched on the shower tray under the spray. He would have to go to the president and submit his resignation, six years before retirement! The water was now ice-cold; he turned it off. He stood up with difficulty, a Hercules carrying the heavy world globe on his shoulders.

Wallner had almost laughed at him and ordered him back to work. The president didn't want to hear anything about resignations, not when you were in the middle of a case! Bodnar said the thing about Laura to Rosenblatt, his voice trembling, as they stood by the coffee machine. Rosenblatt gave him a friendly, chummy pat on the shoulder, then left. Bodnar wasn't sure if Rosa had heard him. Actually, it didn't matter; he'd become a miserable worm, a worm just like Rosenblatt. Ronald looked him in the face and ordered him to go through all the documents from the beginning, checking that they were correctly labeled and numbered for later archiving. Bodnar was grateful that he could make himself useful with a dull, routine task and distract himself.

Bodnar went home earlier than usual. Yvette had dragged Laura to the gynecologist, had her thoroughly examined, and then went to the pharmacy with the prescription. When Bodnar got home, Yvette was sitting at the table with the sour sulky Laura, explaining everything about the pill, menstruation, and the catastrophe of an early pregnancy. The two of them were speaking to each other for the first time in months. He gave Yvette a quick wink, and she retreated to her bedroom. Laura immediately hugged him, pressing her face against his upper arm. "Dad, the doctor touched me down there, shone a light inside, and rubbed my clit really hard until it was completely stiff. But he didn't finish, the stupid man, he just stared at it through a magnifying glass until it was soft again. I felt like a brightly painted circus horse." Bodnar reassured her. "He has to do that, otherwise he can't prescribe you the pill, but you need to start taking it right away. So there's no risk of pregnancy if we're stupid enough to do it again." Laura nodded, appeased. "Than it's okay, Dad."

Bodnar asked what else was on her mind. Laura looked at him uncertainly and whispered that Yvette probably wouldn't approve if she told him. "Yvette apparently knew the doctor from before, and she nodded when he asked if he could take my pictures. He must have taken a hundred pictures of himself rubbing my clit until it was stiff. I'd never seen it so clearly before; my clit became completely stiff and red. I'd never seen it so closely, but suddenly my clit popped out from under the hood like a thorn. But he didn't finish, the bastard. He kept taking pictures and licking his lips until my clit was completely soft again and finally disappeared. And suddenly his penis was inside me, so thick and fat that it almost burst me open. He just thrust in-out, in-out, in-out, in-out, and then he ejaculated immediately, the bastard. Yvette pulled him out and scolded him. He could have her, but not me, damn it! She lay down on her stomach over the desk, she hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties aside. She grabbed him and shoved his semi-erect penis labourously inside her. She forced him to do it to her, and then again immediately. They were barely half a meter away from me, and I finally stopped crying and stared at their fucking genitals. I stared closer than I had in a long time at Yvette's fuckhole and Lothar's cock, which only gradually became hard again and, after a long thrust, ejaculated inside her. His balls bounced up and down as he pumped it in. But she wasn't satisfied and shrieked that he had to fuck her a second time, the bastard! He had to pump her endlessly until he finally managed it a second time. She scolded him because he fucked much worse now than before, this Doctor Lothar. Then we went to the pharmacy.

As they lay in bed that evening, Laura snuggled up to him. She never wore pajamas again; now they both lay naked, skin to skin. "Daddy, I always wanted Yvette's place, I always wanted to be your little Yvette." Bodnar said nothing for a long time. "I've been a man of honor all my life. Yesterday I threw my honor away. It wasn't right that I made you my little Yvette, Laura. I'm your dad, not your lover. That's Jan and Freddie and who-knows-who else. One of your friends should have taken your virginity and popped your cherry; that would have been the right thing to do. As your dad, I'm not allowed to touch my daughter, and certainly not to take her virginity or fuck her. That goes against everything we believe in. Can you understand?" Laura understood, but she didn't grasp anything. And so, in the end, they did it every night, full of shame and full of pleasure, and Yvette buried her head in the pillows; she didn't want to see or to hear it, she didn't want to be beaten anymore.

For Bodnar, early retirement was like a blow from a club. He lay on his bed watching television, without really watching. Yvette had come up beside him and said she was moving out, that she was moving in with Waltraud temporarily until she found an apartment. Bodnar nodded absently. Yvette said she simply couldn't bear to see him and Laura infighting anymore. Bodnar didn't take his eyes off the screen. "I can't undo anything, Yvette." She turned to leave. "I'm going to file for divorce, Saul." She hadn't called him by his first name in years, not for 15 years. Bodnar's hand slid up her legs under her skirt, then he took hold of her fingers. "Lie down next to me, Yvette, before you leave." She was completely surprised, but she lay down next to him. They treated each other gently and tenderly, just like at the beginning of their relationship. Then he took out his iPhone and showed Yvette the pictures of Rosenblatt's big and small sluts. Yvette's eyes widened, she became incredibly aroused, and wondered. "Rosenblatt's?" Bodnar confirmed, yes, that was them. Yvette stayed for another hour; the nude pictures had really turned her on, and she demanded a second round, then she left. For good.

Bodnar gazed at the two sluts for a long time. Rosenblatt's suggestion of borrowing the girls simply wouldn't leave his mind. Yes, maybe yes, but he wouldn't leave Laura alone with Rosenblatt for a single moment. A dinner together? Suddenly it hit Bodnar: Yvette wouldn't be there, she wouldn't cook. Maybe they'd bring some Thai food. Another thought intruded: thick, broad, and overweight. Even for Laura's sensible diet, he needed a replacement for Yvette. Yvette, who was now in Waltraud's arms. Waltraud was just as lustful as Yvette, both were bisexual, and many years ago he'd often had threesomes with them, very enjoyable ones at that, Bodnar smiled to himself. Cooking, doing the housework!? Breathlessly, he mentally ran through the address book of his flings. Yes, maybe her. Or her? No, she had a family now, a husband and children. Another one came to mind. He only thought of her because he'd had a wonderful fling with her years ago. Or — maybe her? Yes, that was her, he'd get in touch with her. She was a childless widow, sexually in the "lustful" category, and she masturbated day and night, much more often than Yvette. And she could really fuck divinely well; it was always a pleasure with her. But she was rather clumsy at managing her life and muddled through more or less. She accepted her lovers' money, but she was anything but a skilled clandestine prostitute. Shy and ashamed, she asked her lover for money, and silently accepted whatever the gentleman wanted to give her. Yes, he could fish her out of the pond; at around 32, she could have a positive influence on Laura and at the same time be his young and compliant lover.

In his mind, he had been flipping through the pictures of the big and little slut, and now Rosenblatt's suggestion of a daughter swap came back into focus. Two approaches presented themselves. He and Rosenblatt could take turns visiting each other and each have a threesome with the respective daughter. Of course, he would do it with Elli at Rosenblatt's first, because only then could he be sure that Rosenblatt was truly serious about the daughter swap. Bodnar's lips twitched as he imagined himself fucking little Elli thoroughly until he couldn't anymore. Only then would he let Rosenblatt slide between Laura's thighs. He was quite certain that Laura would gladly let Rosenblatt fuck her if he, her father, agreed. Yes, she would enjoy it, without a doubt. — Or they could go straight for it, all four of them together, and take their own daughter and the other's in turn. And he would take the little slut, again and again, until he couldn't anymore. Bodnar fell asleep smiling, his cell phone between his fingers.

✨

Rosenblatt smoked silently in bed, Elli slept softly beside him, his hand resting on her bare bottom. It was beautifully shaped, round and womanly, but Rosenblatt wasn't paying attention to its beauty now. Ron had been right all along; he had to get the pill for Elli. She was so young and stupid fearless. She hadn't even started her period yet and hadn't given pregnancy a second thought. The princess had to have her king; finally, he was hers alone. The evil queen had left after watching the king gently and with obvious pleasure deflower the princess. He had fucked her late into the night, making her squeal with delight as she leaped from orgasm to orgasm. The king was proud to have conquered the princess's cunt. Only then did the evil queen retreat, pouting; she had lost the whole game in one fell swoop. The slut was just furiously jealous because Dad had eyes only for his Elli ever since. He was quite happy that Elli laid with him and not the slut. There was no connection between his ejaculation and pregnancy; Elli never considered that.

Rosenblatt now had to call the slut, and the frigate came roaring across the bay under full sails. She didn't have a decent job and didn't need one; she picked up guys at the disco, and she could live very well on the money, even saving some for the future. She wasn't stupid; she avoided drugs and bad guys alike. Rosenblatt greeted her frostily; he hadn't invited her of his own free will. She accompanied Elli to the gynecologist and looked over her shoulder as the doctor examined Elli thoroughly. The slut hadn't seen it since she was a baby; Elli's was beautifully and femininely shaped. Elli had beautiful, full labia, a deep, dark fuckhole, small and very narrow labia minora, and a rather large clit shaped like a small boy's penis. The slut sighed, because her own clit was also shaped like a small boy's penis, complete with a small glans and a proper frenulum like the little boys she occasionally took with her for sex, because she loved to spoil little boys. (She would loiter around the schools at lunchtime and pick out a boy. At home, she would undress him and herself, grinning inwardly when the boy's penis became erect at the sight of her nakedness. Playfully, she would pull the foreskin back and forth over the glans and quietly ask him if he wouldn't like to fuck her. Most of these children had never had sex before, but now they were learning it, all afternoon long. - - - In the bathroom, she often played with her clit and examined it with a small mirror. It was barely two inches long, but bore a striking resemblance to a boy's penis. It had a proper glans and a frenulum; the glans even had a small cleft underneath, like a real penis. Only it had neither a foreskin nor a peehole. She always thought it was a genetic glenoid complication if the embryo couldn't decide between the sexes.) She couldn't help wondering if Elli masturbated as often as she did. They left the prescription at the pharmacy; Elli would now be able to get the pill completely legally. Mother and daughter didn't exchange a single word; the gulf between them was unbridgeable.

The slut simply pushed Elli aside when they went to bed that evening. "I expect compensation for my cooperation," the slut growled, lurking like a female jaguar. Elli was stunned by how roughly the slut took her father. The slut had some fancy tricks up her sleeve to get him hard again and again. Then she fucked the poor man, grinning, and let him squirt inside her, still grinning. From every angle, in every position, she collected payment for each monthly prescription individually. It wasn't until around 2 a.m. that she took off in a taxi. Elli took her father's head in her lap. "Was it worth it, just for the pill?" she asked anxiously. Rosenblatt nodded, exhausted. "Yes, Elli. I would never forgive myself for getting you pregnant. I'm only doing what's necessary, Princess." Elli caressed his head and whispered, "You must get a divorce, Papa, otherwise she'll be a burden to you at the worst possible time. Sooner or later, Mama will run afoul of the law and drag you down with her. She's been doing that her whole life; you're still paying off her debts. She's still officially your wife, Papa." Rosenblatt just wanted to sleep. "Yes, Elli, yes." Finally, he fell into a deep sleep.

✨

For Rosenblatt, who loved women's bodies more than a concoction of ice cream, whipped cream, and maraschino cherry, working in the Halters' house was a nightmare and disgusting. No, he had no problem with the Kerzendocht, because once she'd taken off her impossible housewife clothes, she was actually quite attractive. She was always clean, well-groomed, and lightly perfumed, which accentuated her very feminine curves. No, he enjoyed her. He now regretted having made the suggestion to Bodnar. Upstairs, in the bedroom under the eaves, old Halter quickly undressed to lie down next to the Kerzendocht. Never had the difference between a woman's body in full bloom and an old, withered one been so obvious. Halter was very wrinkled, her breasts hung like sacks, and her sparsely gray-haired cunt was anything but attractive.

Rosenblatt had taken to waiting for the women's pause in their lovemaking, then he would ask the Kerzendocht to dance. It was a pleasure, for the eyes and for his manhood as well. With a heavy heart, he turned to Mrs. Halter after ejaculation. She trembled with excitement and fear. He took her with contempt and penetrated the old woman's wrinkled, dry cunt with his semi-erect penis. The penetration seemed to hurt her, but he didn't give a damn; he had to fuck her, and in front of Rachel's critical eye. Actually, it was Rachel who had urged him and Bodnar to fuck her old girlfriend too, because Rachel knew firsthand that Halter loved to fuck. In the first few days, Bodnar and Rosenblatt had only fucked Rachel, and the old woman had watched them up close with tear-filled eyes. So Rachel had asked her if she wouldn't like to be fucked too. Old Halter had nodded in surprise, without really thinking about it. That's how it all started.

The old woman turned her face away, burying it in the pillows. She knew it was about Frankie, that it was all about dishonoring her. Tears of anger and humiliation glistened in her eyes, but she didn't want to give the guy the satisfaction of crying, of letting the tears flow simply from the contradictions of her own actions. Her thin body was being shaken back and forth, because the guy was obviously having trouble coming. Rosenblatt didn't want to embarrass himself in front of Rachel and thrust into the old woman for what seemed like an eternity. At first, her cunt was bone dry, but now it was gradually becoming moist and wet, making it easier for him to fuck her.

Actually, he was completely indifferent to the old woman, but he watched her wrinkled face very closely, observing her rising arousal. It was really only the thought of Rachel watching him that made him want to give it to the old woman good and hard. She fought against having an orgasm during this long thrusting and pumping, but she usually lost and orgasmed involuntarily. Rosenblatt watched her orgasms with a satisfied look. The orgasms in her old age were much gentler and very unspectacular, yet she was very ashamed of them, and tears of shame or anger ran down her cheeks. Now he grabbed her hips and lifted her slightly, then fucked her hard and ejaculated with a grunt. His eruption felt to her as if he were shooting her shot after shot. She stared at his face as he came, half contemptuously and half gratefully, because apart from him there was only Bodnar, who fucked her like a madman and came inside her so juicyly, the rascal! But then it was over, and he escaped into Kerzendocht's arms, who gently stroked his circumcised friend. Yes, Rachel whispered, yes — being with a circumcised man felt right to her. He rested while Roxane and Rachel comforted each other and tenderly made love. Then it started all over again, until 2 or 3 in the morning, he took turns fucking them both until he couldn't anymore.

✨

While Fatme was kidnapped, Rosa lay with Ronald. She had time to admire the peacefully dozing man during the breaks. Yes, she felt more than just sibling love for Ron, and in the most beautiful moments, a terrible thought would creep into her mind, a truly terrible one. What if Frank killed Fatme and she could stay with Ron? But she quickly banished the thought; it would be dishonest. She didn't deserve such a cheap victory. No, she was Ron's colleague and girlfriend, and she was lying with him to give his tormented self a break, to free him from the kidnapping for a few moments. Yes, she gave him everything, everything a lover would give her beloved. Yes, she knew perfectly well that she was surrendering to him because she loved him, somehow. At the same time, she knew she would return him to Fatme immediately and without hesitation should she be freed.

Rosa's fingers stole their way to her sensitive nipples, her teats, for she could arouse her pointed nipples so delicately that she had an orgasm. She had learned this from a girlfriend during puberty and had been doing it her whole life — wonderful teats orgasms.

Ron was a very good lover, no doubt about it; only Frank was better in bed. She got her money's worth every time with Ron, squealing as she ran up the hill, cheering and exulting in his arms during orgasming. Rosa had fucked with hundreds or been fucked by hundreds, but only two had truly impressed her. In first place was Frankie, the criminal, who had driven her wild with his enormous giant cock for weeks. And Ron came in second, because she felt something, something incredibly good and wonderful, for him in his arms.

More clearly than ever before, she now realized how wrong and empty her frantic rushing from one adventure to the next was. What Ronald and Fatme had was right. The only right thing, the only true thing. It was time to grow up and reach for what was right. She was no longer a girl; she had matured into a woman.

✨

Johannes Wallner lay listlessly and wearily in Ludmilla's arms, his lips encircling her large, juicy nipples. Ever since they had closed the Halter case, he had felt utterly listless and tired. He knew this was his last case; he would be speaking with the Minister of the Interior and demanding his retirement. For over 50 years, he had been a police officer, body and soul. He had always given 150%, he had dedicated himself entirely to his service, he had single-mindedly worked his way up the ranks to become Chief of Police. His wife had become a stranger to him, and Ludmilla, well, she was Ludmilla. After the tempestuous beginning of their affair many years ago, she now demanded nothing of him, not even purely sexual conquest. At first — he was barely 50 — they made love all evening long, and she let him cum inside her as often as he wanted; she had become infertile from performance-enhancing drugs and wasn't afraid of getting pregnant. She liked the man, even though he was 25 years older than her. Because he was an old-school gentleman, and she much preferred that to the clamor of the younger men who were desperate to have sex with the reluctant ice queen.

She couldn't really resist the advances of the boys and men, because secretly she wanted to be fucked by everyone, even though most were certainly no experts in that department. Only the athletes from the figure skating club were really good. There were hundreds of them over the years who had pressured her to have sex with them and fucked the reluctant woman in the afternoons, because the evenings belonged only to Johannes and her.

Ludmilla was very proud of her large, magnificent breasts, and Johannes loved them especially. Most of the time he simply lay on her chest, his lips clinging to her thick, juicy nipples. He loved suckling and licking her dark teats while his hands caressed the Czech lowlands, even though he knew every hill, every fold, and every dimple of this magnificent landscape by heart.

Every Wednesday morning, Ludmilla went to the ice skating club and skated a few laps, just for the wonderful feeling. She didn't do any artistic figures; she skated calmly because hardly anyone else was there at that time. Except for the athletes, who trained every day from morning till night. They nodded to each other; the athletes knew her and who she had once been. In the evenings, she was home, waiting for her Johannes. She wore only the thin, sheer veils he had given her, which accentuated her naked figure so beautifully. She was patient and never pressured him into erotic play, although she naturally loved it.

✨

The Russian rooks had arrived and were now perched on the ledge outside the aquarium. Their only goal was to spend the winter in warmer Austria. There was plenty of food, and no one shot at them here. It must be Saturday or Sunday, they croaked to each other, nodding wisely, because there was no one around. On weekdays, yes, there was activity, bustling activity, in the aquarium and the offices.

On Saturdays and Sundays, evil could be evil undisturbed; all the evil would be dealt with on Monday.

● ● ●