Oskar Converts the Old Nun

Oskar and Lea, who had met at Scout summer camp, were staying with Agnes, an elderly former nun, for the school vacation. Already on the first night, they were cuddling and snuggling and telling each other everything that came to mind. Lea announced the big news: “Unfortunately, you didn’t come to the last summer camp, even though I’d gotten the pill and wanted to fuck you — you were supposed to be my first. So I made up a story about sharing a tent with a very distant cousin from Australia, Reginald. He deflowered me very gently and sweetly, and we fucked like rabbits the whole time. He was well-endowed, and I enjoyed every fuck with him! And when I got home, I immediately grabbed Dad, because since Mom hardly ever fucks him anymore, he’s in a real bind. At first we did it in secret because I wanted to keep it hidden from Mom. But Dad doesn’t give a shit — he fucks me right out in the open in our parents’ bed as soon as Mom starts rubbing her clit. My shyness faded very quickly, because if Dad wanted to show Mom that we were fucking, then so be it. Mom just watches and doesn’t say anything. I think she’s really glad that I’m taking over her marital duties. And I loooove fucking Dad, even though he has a much smaller dick than Reginald and has to fuck me several times to spill it all out. What do you think about that?”

Oskar’s cock slid effortlessly into Lea’s extremely tight pussy. It was as if her pussy were actively sucking and clamping down on him, responding to his every movement with an infinitely wet warmth. She moaned softly as he lost himself completely inside her. His thick, uncircumcised cock felt different inside her than Reginald’s — thicker, more alive — and the tension of his foreskin, which stretched a little further over his glans with every thrust, drove her wild. Lea felt her tight cunt relentlessly forcing his foreskin back with every thrust. A brief twitch flitted across Oskar’s face — a hint of pain that immediately turned into pure, primal pleasure. He began to fuck her, hard and deep. Every thrust hit her G-spot, and Lea knew in that moment that he was the best. Better than gentle Reginald, better than hardworking Dad. Oskar was a lover who understood her body and could drive her to climax. His rhythm quickened, his thrusts grew deeper. Oskar drove her up the hill of pleasure, where her orgasm waited; her breathing came in gasps, her thighs trembled. Lea knew what to do. Her fingers found her clit, which was already hard and throbbing beneath her touch. She began to rub it in time with Oskar’s thrusts, building her own pleasure so she could come perfectly in sync with him. “I’m about to come, Lea, I have to come!” he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire. She just nodded, her fingers flying over her clit as she heard his words: “Are you ready, little cunny? Do you want my seed?” That was it. Lea’s fingers whirled over her clit as Oskar groaned deep inside her and drove his cock all the way in. She felt his foreskin finally pull back, his magnificent glans expand inside her, and then the first hot load of his semen release deep inside her. At the same moment, her own orgasm exploded. A loud scream escaped her throat; her body tensed in waves of pure pleasure that shot through her like lightning. It was an incredible orgasm that shook the 14-year-old as if she were a sack of down feathers in a storm. Completely exhausted and happy, Oskar collapsed onto the bed beside her. Lea’s body was still twitching as she tried to catch her breath. After a moment of silence, during which only their heavy breathing filled the room, Lea fumbled with trembling hands to pull out the cigarettes and a lighter and handed him one. They both lit up and inhaled deeply; the smoke filled the room and mingled with the scent of their lovemaking.

The smoke from their cigarettes swirled between them in the darkness as Oskar, after taking his first deep drag, asked, “Did I get this right — you guys wait until your mom starts rubbing her clit in the evening, and then you have sex with your dad? That’s so hot! Watching Mom jerk herself off while Dad fucks you at the same time!” Lea laughed softly, a ring of smoke escaping her lips. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it is. Mom’s always jerked off right in front of Dad and me — she’s not shy about it at all. And back then, I used to jerk off Dad’s cock with my hand at the same time — I was still a virgin then. But now we watch Mom jerk off while Dad fucks me, over and over, until Mom reaches her climax, and that’s when he cums inside me — his whole load.” She took another drag and continued, her voice growing softer, almost tender. “I love this fucking, Oskar, because I love Mom and Dad — just the two of us! It’s so perverted and at the same time so… pure. When Dad cums inside me while Mom just lies next to us and moans, it feels like we’re a family — a real, honest family. Dad says I save him with my pussy, and I think I really do.” She turned to Oskar, her eyes glistening in the dim light. “And do you know what the hottest part is? When Mom’s done and licks her finger, which is still wet with her juices, she looks at me and smiles. A small, mysterious smile. And I know she approves, that she’s glad I’m taking her place. Sometimes, when Dad takes me especially hard, I imagine Mom can feel it, as if she were letting him fuck her. It’s so damn hot, Oskar — you have to understand that.”

Lea jerked Oskar off every morning in the shower — he insisted on it. Her grip was firm yet gentle, a practiced routine that was gentle on his sensitive foreskin. Agnes poked her curious head in to make sure everything was all right. Lea glanced over her shoulder; water dripped from her wet hair onto her shoulder blades. “Go ahead and come in, Agnes, we don’t bite…,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. Oskar added, his voice booming off the bathroom’s echoes: “Agnes, sit down on the plastic chair, then you can watch. I think that’s okay.” Agnes hesitated; her old, devout soul struggled with her insatiable curiosity. But then she pulled herself together, came in, and sat down on the chair. Of course she was a curious woman — no question about it. Her eyes were fixed on Oskar’s cock, on Lea’s hand, which was working it with masterful ease. After a while, during which only the sound of the water and Oskar’s soft moans filled the room, Agnes asked, her voice a little hesitant: “Lea, why are you jerking him off so strangely? Why don’t you let the foreskin snap back and forth?” Lea smiled, a gentle, instructive smile. “Because Oskar has mild phimosis — a slight narrowing of the foreskin. If I let the foreskin snap back and forth right away, it’ll hurt him. I’ll do that at the very end — you’ll see — by then he won’t feel any pain, and I’ll be able to pull his foreskin all the way back over the glans and let it snap back and forth while he cums.” Agnes, who had no idea what a man’s cock with mild phimosis was like, just licked her lips and continued watching in silence. Her eyes were wide, her fingers trembling slightly in her lap as she studied Lea’s movements and felt the tension in Oskar’s body as he surrendered to her touch.

Lea felt Agnes’s probing gaze and relished the power she held in that moment. She picked up the pace of her stroking slightly, her hand tightened, and Oskar’s moans grew louder. “See, Agnes?” she whispered, without taking her eyes off Oskar. “I can feel him tensing up. I can tell when it’s time. It’s not just about jerking off — you have to feel it, too.” Her hand moved faster, and Oskar’s body began to tremble. “Now, Agnes, now!” Lea exclaimed, and with a practiced flick, she pulled Oskar’s foreskin all the way back, over the swollen, red glans. Oskar let out a quiet cry — a cry that betrayed not only pain but also overwhelming pleasure. A thick, white stream of his semen shot out of his cock and landed on Agnes’s cheek. She flinched, her eyes widening, but she didn’t pull away. She remained seated, her face a mask of shock and fascinated excitement, while Oskar came in Lea’s hand. And when he was done, when his body went limp and he leaned against Lea, Agnes slowly wiped the drop of his semen from her cheek and tasted it. “So…,” she whispered, “so that’s what it’s like…”

Once again, it was just a trick played by Agnes’s imagination. No, she was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching the two teenagers as they smoked, completely relaxed. The smoke rose slowly toward the ceiling and mingled with the smell of sex and sweat that still lingered in the room. Lea’s finger traced a line across Oskar’s chest as she asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue for so long. “And have you lived a chaste and abstinent life all these years in the convent, Agnes?” Agnes nodded, her gaze fixed on the distance, as if she were looking through time, into a past she had long since left behind. “Abstinent, yes, absolutely — and always since taking my vows. Only during the first four years — when I was a novice — did I not have to live either chastely or abstinently.” Her voice grew quieter, almost conspiratorial, as she continued. “During that time, quite a few clergymen fucked me — the bishop, the abbot of the neighboring monastery, and many others. It was up to the Mother Superior to assign us novices to the clergymen to warm their beds. I really enjoyed it because it wasn’t as dirty and humiliating as fucking at home.”

Lea nodded, her eyes widening at Agnes’s words. She could picture it: the young Agnes, the nun, allowing herself to be taken by the men of the church — not out of love, but out of duty, out of a kind of sacred service. “And… what was it like?” she asked quietly; her curiosity outweighed her shame. “Was it… different from being with the men back home?” Agnes laughed softly, a rough, dry laugh. “Oh, it was quite different, my child. The clergy — they knew what they were doing. They knew how to take a woman without breaking her. They knew how to make her scream without humiliating her. It was… an art. An art I haven’t practiced in a long time.” She looked at Oskar, her eyes shining with memory. “Your grandpa, Larry — he was one of them. A young, steely soldier who knew how to take a woman. He taught me what it meant to be a woman before he went off to war and never came back. And now... now I see you, Oskar, and I see him in you. I see the same fire, the same hunger, the same artistry. And I wonder if you can still do it. If you still know how to take a woman without breaking her.”

Oskar didn’t correct her that this Larry was just his grandfather’s brother. Lea continued to probe into Agnes’s life; her curiosity was insatiable, and she wanted to uncover the old woman’s very last secrets. “So, you haven’t fucked a man since taking your vows — I get that. But how did you deal with the sexual pressure, Agnes?” Agnes looked straight into Lea’s eyes, honestly. “Ever since I was seven years old, I’ve been fingering my clit every night to help me fall asleep. And I’ve kept doing it until today — or rather, until yesterday. According to our vow, we’re not supposed to do it, but it’s not strictly forbidden. There’s a big difference between ‘not supposed to’ and ‘not allowed,’ my child.” Lea nodded, her fingers unconsciously stroking her own pussy as she thought of little Agnes lying in the dark at night, jerking off herself. “Can you tell us more about what your sex life was like before you entered the convent?” Agnes pressed a hand to her chest, over her heart. “All right, I’ll tell you everything from the beginning now. Listen carefully and don’t interrupt.” Her voice was firm, yet trembling, as she returned to her past, to a time she had long since left behind.

"My parents were alcoholics," she began; her words were like shadows falling across the wall of the room. "They often fought, and I would often hide under my bed to escape the noise. My older sister, Isolde — she found me. She pulled me out from under the bed and showed me what it meant to love myself. She was already nine, and I was only seven, but she already knew everything. She showed me how to rub my clit, how to make myself scream. And we did it every night, under the covers, while our parents were getting drunk and screaming. It was our little escape, our little secret.” She looked at Oskar, her eyes glistening with tears. “And then… then there was the young priest. He caught me in the sacristy, rubbing myself. He didn’t scold me, no. He showed me what it meant to be taken by a man. He laid me on the altar and fucked me while the bells were ringing. He showed me that sex wasn’t just pain, not just humiliation. He showed me that there could also be pleasure — a pleasure so intense that it overshadowed everything else. And I loved him as much as I could. I gave him everything I had, and he took everything I had from me.”

Agnes’s voice became a soft, bitter whisper as she shared her memories in the quiet room of the house that had been her world for decades. “My parents were alcoholics; they drank away every penny, so my older sister and I often had to go hungry or beg for food.” Her eyes gazed right through the wall, into a past filled with misery and the smell of cheap booze. “Isolde, who was two years older than me, showed me how we girls masturbate, and that was our little, private escape from the dreadful daily grind. Under the crumpled blankets, in the dark, while our parents’ screams made the walls shake, we comforted ourselves; we showed each other that there was another world out there, a world that belonged only to us.” But their refuge was not safe. Her father, a man whose soul had long since been consumed by alcohol, found a way to destroy even this refuge. “My dad fucked Isolde since she was eleven, mercilessly, every night.” Agnes’s hands clenched into fists; her knuckles turned white beneath her thin skin. “I lay there silently and couldn’t do anything for her. I just slapped Dad really hard on the ass whenever he wanted to cum inside Isolde’s fuck hole. No, that guy had better cum on the sheets, not inside my big sister. He feared my blows, because I hit him with all my strength. So he’d pull out his pathetic dick, jerked off hunched over like a little monkey, and cum on the dirty sheet.” Isolde’s escape was her salvation, but also Agnes’s downfall. “Isolde put an end to the ordeal; at 14, she ran off with a neighbor’s son, and they got married in secret. So I was left alone with my drunk parents.” Agnes’s voice broke as she thought of the time that followed, of the darkness that closed in around her. “Mom fought back with everything she had — no, she didn’t want Dad to fuck her. He was pretty pissed off about it, because Mom would let any stranger who paid her well fuck her. She screamed that he should grab the little princess who was still pulling the hair out of their heads. So Dad raped me when I was about 12, and he fucked me every night, while Mom only let herself be fucked for money to buy booze.” She looked at Oskar and Lea; her eyes were dry, but there was a pain in them so deep that it made the air in the room feel suffocating. “That’s the world I fled from. The world that taught me that sex is a weapon, a tool of power and humiliation. Until I came to the convent. Until I met the clergymen. They showed me that things can be different. They took me, yes, but they also respected me. They taught me that my body isn’t just a weapon or a tool — it’s also a temple. A temple of carnal pleasure.”

Agnes’s ordeal was not yet over. Her voice grew more flat, as if she were speaking across a desert — a landscape of pain and humiliation. “My mom had a brainwave. I should sell myself for money, too. At first, just to her brothers, uncles, and nephews, to see if I could fuck like a good girl.” She looked at Oskar; her eyes were empty as she thought of the first men she’d had to let fuck her — not out of hatred, but out of self-defense. “Yes, I could — even as meek as a lamb — because her relatives weren’t depraved pigs, but ordinary boys and men who just wanted to have sex, who didn’t want to hurt me. That was the first time I realized that sex can also be very peaceful and beautiful. And that was a realization that burrowed deep into my soul whenever Dad or his cronies treated me with contempt, working me over like a piece of meat.” But this tiny spark of hope was immediately extinguished by her mother. “And Mom had once again had a good drink and come up with a new idea: we’d host gang bangs; the guests had to bring money and alcohol, and then it would start. Mom and I were the gang-bang queens; we were fucked to pieces by everyone, until dawn, until even the last drunk fell silent and fell asleep." Agnes’ hands trembled as she thought of those nights — the cold, dirty hands that tugged at her, the stinking bodies that threw themselves on her. “Those were the most terrible nights for me; I was really just a hole that everyone simply came inside.” She looked at Lea; her eyes were full of tears she couldn’t cry. "I’ve often wondered why I survived. Why I didn’t just give up. And then I found the answer: because I knew there had to be something better. Because in the arms of my relatives I saw a spark of hope, a spark of warmth. And that spark kept me alive. It made me flee — to the convent, to a world where I could protect myself. And now… now I see that spark again. In you.”

Agnes folded her hands without praying; her fingers found each other as if searching for an old, familiar shape. “I endured that ordeal because I had learned that there is also such a thing as peaceful, beautiful sex. Because I was always waiting to be kidnapped and married by a boy next door, just like Isolde. But there was no such boy next door.” Her voice was soft but firm as she spoke of the spark of hope that had carried her through the darkest time of her life. And then, as if it were a miracle she alone had witnessed, everything changed. “And then, when I was 16, almost 17, heaven sent me an angel. Yasmin was exactly my age, and she was going through a similar ordeal as I was. So Yasmin said, ‘I’m not going home tonight; I’m running away and seeking refuge at the convent.’ Without a moment’s hesitation, I took her hand, and we ran away. The convent took us in; after four years as novices, Yasmin became Sister Immaculata, and I became Sister Agnes Anunciata — Agnes the Announced.” A gentle smile played on her lips as she thought back on her time with Yasmin — the years when, for the first time in her life, she had a friend, a sister in her heart. “Yasmin enjoyed fucking the clergymen just as much as I did when we were still novices. The Mother Superior was delighted, because now that she could offer up attractive, young novices, the High Gentlemen kept coming back and bringing money and gifts. Yasmin and I finally had a youth filled with peaceful, beautiful sex. We both forgot our origins, our nasty parents. That’s how we became nuns — good nuns. Yasmin learned tailoring and sewing; I became a herbalist, and I really liked that.” She looked at Oskar and Lea; her eyes shone with memories, but also with a deep, unspoken sadness. “We were happy — so happy that we’d never thought it possible. We had a roof over our heads, we had enough to eat, and we had the Noble Lords, who not only took us in but also saw us and respected us. It was a time of peace, a time of healing. And I thought it would stay that way forever. But life — as I had already learned — isn’t that simple. It takes away what you love, and it forces you to keep going, even when you think you can’t go on anymore. And so the time came for Yasmin to leave, too. And I was alone again, alone with my memories, alone with my pain.”

Agnes sniffled; the memory of Yasmin’s death was an open wound that had never healed. “Yasmin died in my arms; with her, I lost not only a spiritual sister, but a real sister — one I was allowed to cuddle up with at night, who shared the most beautiful sexual moments with me. And then the new Mother Superior kicked me out. It had come to her ears that I was having a lesbian relationship outside the convent walls — with Irene, the famous pianist. With Irene, Oskar’s mom. Lesbian sex within the convent walls was met with derision and ignored. But outside, in the secular world? No, what a disgrace!!!" She looked at Oskar; her eyes were filled with tears as she thought of his mother, the woman who had helped her when she was alone. "The new Mother Superior shoved a wad of bills into my hand and kicked me to the curb. Irene took me in; she found me this one-room apartment and sends me money every month so I can make ends meet. And I’ve rented a small plot of land where I now grow rare herbs, which I sell at the market on Saturdays. So, that was my life.” She looked down at the floor, as if that said it all, as if her life were a finished story, a book that could be closed and placed on a shelf. Then she lifted her head; her eyes met Oskar’s, and in them lay a question, a plea, a hope. “But now… now I see you, Oskar. And I see him in you — Larry, the man who taught me what it meant to be a woman. And I wonder if you can still do it. If you still know how to take a woman without breaking her.”

Lea was deeply moved by Agnes’s life story. Just think of everything this woman had endured! She knew she had to offer a positive counterpoint. Her hand found Agnes’s — old and trembling, resting in her lap — and she gently drew it toward her. “Come,” she whispered, and Agnes followed her like a child obeying a familiar voice. Lea led her to Oskar’s cock, which still lay half-erect on his stomach — a monument to lust that had only just done its duty. Agnes’s eyes widened as her fingers touched his cock. It was as if she were touching a man for the first time, as if the touch were a revelation. “Look, Agnes,” said Lea, her voice firm and instructive, “this is a real flesh cock. Something very rare. It’s not just filled with blood when erect — it’s surrounded by muscles. That’s why it never really goes limp; even when soft, you can still use it to fuck a girl. Other cocks shrink after you cum — the blood drains out, and you can’t use them for anything at all. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Agnes nodded; her fingers were shy but also curious as they felt his cock — the warmth, the pulsation, the vitality beneath it. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with memory, “his grandpa, Larry, had a cock that firm, too. He’d come to the convent for a month, showered the Mother Superior with gifts, and was then allowed to fuck me all night long. Oh, how wonderful that was! Larry was one of the few men I’ve remembered my whole life, the one who impressed me with his fucking like hardly anyone else.” Her eyes glistened with tears as she thought of the nights with Larry, of the warmth she’d found in his arms, of the love she’d experienced there — a love she’d never found again. And then, as if driven by an inner force, she leaned forward; her lips brushed his glans, her tongue tasted the salts of his pleasure. It was as if she were rediscovering a part of herself, as if she were the woman she once was, before the darkness had swallowed her up. And Oskar felt it. He felt her longing, her hunger, and he knew he had to give her what she needed. He pulled her close, his hands found her body, and he took her — not just as a receptacle for his seed, but as a woman, as a lover, as a partner. And Agnes screamed — not from pain, but from pleasure, a pleasure she hadn’t felt in 50 years. And in that moment, she knew she was alive again.

Agnes blinked; once again, her imagination had played tricks on her. No, she was right here — her fingers were touching Oskar’s cock, and Lea was sitting next to her, smiling happily. The warmth of his flesh beneath her fingers was real, the scent of sex and sweat in the air was real, and the memory of Larry’s embrace was just a shadow that had long since faded away. Lea kissed her cheek; her lips were soft and warm — a promise, an invitation. “Well, how about it, Agnes? Don’t you feel like letting Oskar fuck you?” Agnes flinched. She hadn’t fucked a man in 50 years, and she was old, wrinkled, and creased. Oskar would be disgusted by an old hag, she replied to Lea; her voice was a soft, trembling whisper, an echo of the humiliation she had endured her whole life. But Lea immediately protested loudly; her voice was like a clap of thunder that snapped old Agnes out of her lethargy. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting, Agnes!? You’ve preserved your cunt for 50 years and haven’t worn it out like everyone else. And my Oskar — he doesn’t just fuck little girls; he also fucks older women who are in the mood for sex. That’s the only thing that matters, Agnes: do you want to, or don’t you?” Her words were a blow that shattered Agnes’s doubts, a fire that set her old, cold soul ablaze once more. Now Oskar spoke up, his voice firm and clear, a promise that brooked no excuses. “If you ask me, Agnes: Yes, I’d very much like to fuck you — now, here, today, right this minute. But I’m not going to beg — that’s not my style.” And in that moment, Agnes knew there were no more excuses. No doubts, no fear. Just the decision. The decision to live again, to feel again, to be a woman again.

Agnes pulled her dress over her head. Yes, she really wasn’t wearing any underwear. Oskar examined her with a connoisseur’s eye. She had heavy breasts the size of melons that hung down to her belly button. Her pubic area was covered with a fine, soft down of black-gray hair, but he could see her pussy slit quite clearly. Lea removed the hair clip that had been holding her hair together. Oskar took her by the hand and placed her where Lea had been lying. Agnes’s dark gray mane of hair flowed around her face like a soft waterfall. She smiled uncertainly, yet with joyful anticipation — an old woman who, for the first time in a long while, was allowed to be a woman again. Oskar leaned over her; his body was a promise — a promise she’d been waiting for for 50 years. His cock entered her very slowly, all the way in. Agnes sighed, “Oh my God! What a huge thing! It fills me up completely!” It was as if a part of her that had been lost for 50 years was returning to its rightful place, as if she were becoming whole again. Now she let Oskar fuck her. She clung to his broad shoulders — the 17-year-old had shoulders as broad as a man’s. Agnes sighed and soon began to pant. This boy — he was driving her forward, up the hill, to where orgasm awaited her. Oskar was surprised because Agnes had gotten the hang of it and was moving in harmony with him; she fell into sync with him automatically, which made the sex really wonderful. It was as if they were playing an old song, a song they both knew without ever having learned it. “I’m about to come, Agnes,” he gasped, and she pressed her finger against her clit, rubbing herself hard. She had copied exactly how Lea did it, and now they climaxed almost simultaneously. Her body was shaken by spasms, and he shot his full load into her old pussy. Then it was over. They lay there, their bodies wet with sweat, their hearts beating in unison, and they knew that this wasn’t just sex. This was healing. This was a rebirth.

Lea laughed softly, a quiet, cheerful laugh that broke the silence in the room. “No, Agnes, don’t worry. We usually have sex four or five times a day, and then again at night. But Oskar can easily manage to have sex with you in between, if you’d like. Or maybe you’ve had enough of making love with Irene. It’s your choice, Agnes — we’re ready.” Her words were an invitation, a promise that set Agnes’s old, cold soul ablaze once more. Agnes looked at Oskar; her eyes shone with memories, but also with a deep, unspoken sadness. “I… I don’t know if I can ask for that,” she whispered, her voice a soft, trembling murmur. “I’m old, Oskar. I’m wrinkled and creased. I’m no longer the woman I once was. I haven’t been with a man in 50 years. I don’t know if I’m still capable of feeling what I felt back then.” But Oskar wasn’t listening to her. He heard only the longing in her voice, the desire she couldn’t hide. He leaned forward, his lips brushed hers, and he kissed her — not just as a man taking a woman, but as a lover kissing a lover. And Agnes felt it. She felt the warmth, the passion he gave her, and she knew she could live again. She knew she could feel once more what it meant to be a woman.

Oskar took the reins. He was the man, he was the boss, he was the one who gave the orders. His gaze was hard, his voice firm, as he addressed Agnes, the old, stooped woman who had only just rediscovered the joy of living. “Agnes, I’m going to fuck you every day. All you have to do is get clean, take a bath, put on some perfume, and lie down with me — I’ll take care of the rest. Got it? No backtalk. Do whatever you want with Irene — I don’t give a shit. But once a day, you’re going to lie down with me. Period.” Agnes could have burst out laughing at the way this 17-year-old was putting on airs as the big man. But she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. She knew this wasn’t just about sex — it was a promise, a promise she’d been searching for for 50 years. “Yes, Oskar, I do want it,” she whispered; her voice was a soft, trembling murmur, an echo of the longing she had suppressed for so long. “I’ll lie down next to you and let you fuck me just right, because that’s what you want. Because you say so — you command it. That’s fine.”

Lea wrapped her arms around Oskar’s neck; her body was still warm from their shared passion, and her eyes sparkled with admiration. “Just as you commanded her, my God, I could freeze in awe. You’re turning into a true father of the gods, my Zeus!” Her laughter was a soft, cheerful chime that broke the silence in the room. Oskar smiled, and she laughed. “It’s wonderful how you showed old Agnes the path to carnal pleasure. I think she’ll blossom and feel like a woman again — a real woman. I love you, my Oskar!” Oskar smiled; his heart was full as he heard Lea’s words, as he felt her warmth. “I was afraid you’d take my commanding voice seriously. By God, my knees tremble when I think that you might take me for some kind of macho!" His voice was a soft, trembling whisper, an echo of the insecurity he carried within him, the insecurity of a boy who was just learning to be a man. But Lea didn’t hear his insecurity. She heard only his strength, his power — the power he had over her, the power he had over Agnes. And she knew that she loved him, not just as a lover, but also as a man — as the man who took her the way she deserved. She kissed him, deeply and passionately.

Oskar flashed his cheekiest grin; his face was a picture of pure, unbridled pride. “Do you actually know what it was that turned your mom, Jenny, on so much that she just had to fuck me right then and there?” Lea shook her head. It had been a while ago, and she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary at the time. Oskar was still grinning. “Back then, when I told your mom that I fuck my mom from behind after she takes a shower — just like dogs do — I noticed a sparkle in your mom’s eyes. I decided right then and there to spin her a tall tale. So, I said, ‘My 11-year-old cousin Amanda — she’s quite the little slut. She lets our male Labrador, Rex, fuck her from behind — that little filthy slut.’” Oh, you should’ve seen how your mom’s eyes darted back and forth like sparrows trapped in a cage. She promptly asked, “So, she lets Rex fuck her, huh? And then the dog probably cums inside her, doesn’t he?” And I confirmed it, because I could see her pussy getting hot. That was the tall tale that robbed your mom of the last shred of her sanity and made her pussy open wide, like a barn door!” Lea stared at him in disbelief. “And that’s how you turned her on, you little liar!?” Now they were both laughing heartily. Lea laughed heartily, a laugh that came deep from her belly and dried her tears. “You little liar!” she exclaimed, playfully slapping him on the chest. “And that’s how you got her all worked up! You really are a devil, Oskar!” She could barely contain her laughter as she imagined her mom — the usually so calm Jenny — flushing at these lies, her eyes darting back and forth like sparrows trapped in a cage. Oskar flashed his cheekiest grin; his face was an expression of pure, unbridled pride. “I knew it would work,” he said, his voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper. “I knew she had a little slut inside her, a little slut just waiting to be taken by a real man. And I gave her what she needed. I gave her what she’d been looking for for years. The dream of being fucked by a big dog.” Lea kept laughing; her laughter was a laugh of liberation, a laugh she hadn’t heard in years. “You really are a devil, Oskar,” she said once she’d calmed down. “But I love you for it. I love you because you’re a devil. Because you’re not just a lover, but also a warrior. A warrior who knows what he wants — and who takes it.” Oskar smiled; his heart was full as he heard Lea’s words, as he felt her warmth. “I love you, too, Lea,” he said; his voice was a soft, trembling whisper, an echo of the love he felt for her. “I love you because you understand me. Because you accept me just as I am. Because you don’t see me as a macho man, but as the man I want to be.” And they kissed, deeply and passionately; their laughter was a laughter they shared, a laughter that bound them together.

Lea’s laughter died away when she sensed the sudden seriousness in Oskar’s voice. She saw his gaze drift into the distance, as if he were reliving a scene that was important to him. She leaned against him, her hand found his, and she waited for him to speak. “I didn’t want to reveal one of my mom’s private secrets to your mom — I had no right to do that,” he began, his voice quiet but firm. “Little Amanda — she once had me show her how to stroke Rex’s cock until he cums. The little girl was beside herself. ‘He cums just like Daddy does on Saturday mornings in the bathroom when he cums into the washbasin!’ It was immediately clear to me that this little angel of innocence watches her dad jerk off and cum into the washbasin every Saturday morning — that oh-so-innocent little lamb! And ever since then, she’s been stroking Rex’s cock and making him cum. She’d never let Rex — or even me — really fuck her, oh no, by God, no!” Lea nodded slowly, her fingers stroking the back of his hand. She understood. She understood that he wasn’t just a liar, but also a protector. A protector of the secrets that held the world together. “You’re a good man, Oskar,” she whispered; her voice was a soft, trembling murmur, an echo of the love she felt for him. “You’re a good man because you know what to say and what not to say. Because you know that some secrets are better kept when you don’t speak them aloud.” Oskar smiled; his heart was full as he heard Lea’s words, as he felt her warmth. “I love you, Lea,” he said; his voice was a soft, trembling whisper, an echo of the love he felt for her. “I love you because you understand me. Because you accept me as I am. Because you don’t see me as a macho man, but as the man I want to be.” And they kissed, deeply and passionately; their laughter was a laughter they shared, a laughter that bound them together.

Lea felt Oskar’s arms wrap around her — a warm, firm embrace that held her close and protected her. She leaned against him, her ear pressed to his chest, and listened to his voice — deep and husky — as he confided another, even darker secret to her. “I didn’t want to reveal Mom’s secret to your mom,” he said, and Lea felt his heartbeat quicken as he formed the words he’d kept to himself for so long. “Because she’s the one who’s trained Rex to fuck ever since she bought him as a puppy. Now she sits at the piano and practices for hours. Rex sneaks up to her, rests his head in her lap, and howls and whines at the highest pitch. That’s when Mom knows the little jerk wants to fuck. She pulls her dress over her head and gets down on all fours. And Rex — he jumps on her and fucks her and cums inside her, all at breakneck speed. She has to let him stay inside her for a long time so he doesn’t hurt his ball. Well, that’s exactly what I didn’t want to tell your mom — it’s my mom’s secret.” Lea froze. She could hardly believe it. His mom, Irene — the woman she knew only as a passive observer of her own pleasure, the woman who only let herself be fucked for a lot of money — had such a perverse, such an… animalistic secret? She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief, her mind struggling with the image he was painting in her head: his mom, on all fours, being fucked by her dog — an image so horrific and yet so fascinating that she couldn’t push it away. “You… you’re a devil, Oskar,” she whispered; her voice was a soft, trembling murmur, an echo of the shock that coursed through her. “But I love you for that. I love you because you’re a devil. Because you’re not just a lover, but also a warrior. A warrior who knows what to say and what not to say. A warrior who guards the secrets that hold the world together.” And they kissed, deeply and passionately; their laughter was a laughter they shared, a laughter that bound them together.

They were more than just two teenagers satisfying their desires. They were a couple — a couple that could take the world by storm.

And they knew that this wasn't the end of their story.

That was just the beginning.