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I had just finished college when ‘the Exchange’ was finally due.
My parents ran a successful farming business in Lincolnshire and my father had become friendly with a German businessman called Klaus Mayer. He apparently headed up a conglomerate of operations in food and retail – and was stinking rich by all accounts.
My summers were normally taken up with getting the harvest in: hauling wheat and barley into the grain store, but more commonly, working 12-hour days, manually pitching bales of straw into massive stacks, to provide winter bedding for the pigs, which we had several thousand of. The hard work and long days, with little respite from the endless trailers of straw, often in sweltering heat, gave me a well-muscled and tanned body. I had thick, sun-bleached blonde hair which reached nearly to my shoulders and consequently was lucky enough to look like a fit beach boy.
The wheat straw was just about in when Nina arrived from Germany. She was truly a vision of beauty. About 19 years old, she was slim and blonde, with classic facial features, with the most fantastic legs and nice breasts. The day I was introduced to her, she was wearing a short skirt and designer sunglasses. She looked every inch the money-kissed debutante. Her outfit probably cost more than I earned in two summers of hard graft, and it showed. In short, she looked stunning.
To a sex-obsessed country boy, Nina seemed to be in a different league. She was smart, sophisticated, multi-lingual, and very, very sexy. The problem was, she knew damn well, how desirable she was to men of all ages, and was clearly not going to have a problem exploiting that fact.
It also soon became obvious that she was not going to succumb to the efforts of some yokel who was trying to roll her in the hay. She was haughty and aloof. Even taking her out to parties and getting her a bit drunk with my friends, did nothing to melt the barbed wire she kept wrapped around her panties.
In the two weeks she stayed, I never managed to cop so much as a feel of a tit, or even get a snog with her. The best I ever managed, was a peek through a loose button of her blouse, to spot a beautiful, strawberry-like nipple – a tantalising glimpse of her delectable body. But the pompous bitch was not playing, no way. She was clearly going to sell out to the highest bidder, and that wasn’t going to be me.
Utterly frustrated with my attempts to get into her knickers, (after all, she was basically just another teenage bit of stuff), her fortnight was finally over, and it was my turn to accompany her back to her home in Germany. The journey there was completely uneventful, what with her being so sullen, and sadly, no mile-high entertainment to report.
When we arrived at the airport, we were met by one of Herr Mayer’s drivers, in one of his luxury Mercedes cars. Nina adopted that annoying, haughty, dismissive attitude – the kind of thing which made me wish she would get anally gang-banged by the local football team. Preferably while I watched.
By the time we arrived at the Mayer residence, I had a sinking feeling that I was going to be hopelessly outclassed and out of my depth. My clothes didn’t match the designer quality of Nina’s and I only spoke schoolboy German. It looked like it was going to be a long three weeks, and I was beginning to wish I was back in England with my mates – and some birds I could feasibly shag!
Their house was a bloody mansion. The driver parked the car on the great, sweeping drive, as I took in the manicured lawns and neatly kept flower beds.
I grabbed my bags; pretentious Nina told the driver to bring hers – and we made our way into the house, to be greeted by Nina’s mum, Frau Mayer. Frau Mayer was altogether friendlier than Nina. She had a genuine warmth about her, but it was easy to see where Nina had got her looks from. She was maybe mid-forties, but still had a lovely slim figure, blonde hair, and a gorgeous smile. She had nice tits, too.
Mental note to self: I really must try to stop doing that. Women instinctively know where men are looking. It’s like we have laser beams coming out of our eyes, and they are invariably pointed straight at their boobs.
She spoke in almost accent-less English. ‘Hello Andy, it’s great to meet you. Thank you so much for looking after Nina these past two weeks,’ she said, extending her hand.
No problem. It would have been better if I could have fucked her though.
I took her hand and squeezed it, hoping she wouldn’t hate the hard, calloused skin, gained from endless hours of graft with the pitchfork. She winced slightly, as I gripped a little too hard.
‘I’m pleased to meet you too, Frau Mayer,’ I said politely.
‘Please, call me Annika. There is no need to be so formal here,’ she said, smiling warmly, and making me feel much more welcome. I immediately thought how much more attractive a person she was, than the bitch Nina. The difference between earned money and inherited wealth.
Nina sincan escort disappeared off to her room, no doubt to make herself look gorgeous after the emotionally scarring experience of staying on a hick farm in England, leaving her mum, Annika, to show me round the family pile.
And some pile it was. Loads of bedrooms, tennis courts, a swimming pool, various reception rooms and so on. It even had a den – a great big room with a pool table, TV and stereo. Frau Mayer, or rather, Annika, then showed me the dining room.
‘Sorry Andy, first we must remove our shoes,’ she said, when she opened the door. The reason was soon obvious when she explained. ‘The carpet is handmade of Egyptian cotton. One is not permitted to walk on it when wearing shoes.’
The room was amazing. It was circular and the walls were panelled with exotic dark hardwood; the carpet was a gorgeous olive colour, and the centrepiece table could seat at least a dozen people.
My tour concluded when we reached the kitchen. It soon became clear that this was Annika’s comfort zone. She was obviously a keen cook, and the room reflected that. This was a room, not for show, but to be used. Pots, pans, and utensils adorned the worktops and walls, along with jars of ingredients. There was also a large table, with chairs for six people. It was the kind of room I could feel comfortable in – a proper family room.
I was a keen amateur cook myself… my mother had taught me the basics from an early age and had encouraged me to experiment. By the age of about 10 or 11, I was able to produce an acceptable 3-course meal. So I felt at home in this culinary environment and immediately felt a level of rapport with the lovely Frau Mayer, certainly far more than I felt with her uptight daughter.
‘I love your kitchen, Frau Mayer,’ I said, forgetting the requested familiarity. I looked closely at the multi-ring range hob and the professional equipment. ‘I’d love to help you cook a meal, or even cook one for you,’ I said, feeling a real connection with her.
‘That would be wonderful,’ she said, smiling and affectionately placing a hand on my muscled shoulder. ‘But first you must meet Hanne, Nina’s sister. She will show you the boat.’
Hanne turned out to be the total opposite of Nina. She had shorter, dark hair and had a curvy figure. Wow, she was lovely! She was warm, friendly, had a wonderful, beaming smile. I took to her immediately, and we were soon chatting away, me in my broken German and her, in her broken English. We both laughed when we couldn’t think of the right words in either language.
She took me down the long path to the river at the very end of the extensive gardens. Tied up to a floating pontoon was the boat. ‘The boat’ they talked about wasn’t just a boat. It was a 20-metre, ocean-going sailing yacht, fitted out with every mod con and navigation aid, as well as an inboard engine. The boat had several cabins and a luxury saloon, all superbly fitted out with solid mahogany and polished chrome.
‘We will be going am bord soon!’ she exclaimed, mixing her languages. ‘We need to get supplies first, though.’
I liked Hanne. She was nice. She smiled a lot. And it wasn’t too hard to see that she liked me, too. I spontaneously gave her a hug and said, ‘I’m really looking forward to a trip on this lovely boat.’ Things were looking up at last.
Until Herr Mayer came home, that is. I only met the great man briefly, and instantly thought he was a complete pig. Short, fat, bald, with a stupid goatee beard, I found him completely obnoxious. He may have been fucking loaded, but he was an ignorant git. He barely grunted, making little effort at conversation, preferring to spend time in his study, rather than with his guest or his lovely wife. I immediately felt sorry for Annika.
The next day was spent organising ludicrous amounts of food, alcohol, cigarettes, and other stuff from ‘Daddy’s warehouse,’ to be delivered to the yacht. Annika prepared lots of food to put in the on-board fridge and freezer, and before long, we were all ready to go.
We were joined by some poncey friend of Nina’s – not a boyfriend, just a male friend, who I struggled to really gel with, and sadly of course, the pig Herr Mayer.
We set off out into the North Sea, under power to start with, but before long, unfurled the sails and were soon blasting through the waves into the open sea. The sailing was a truly joyous experience, which helped to overcome the combined irritation of Herr Mayer, Nina, and her wimpy boy friend.
I was allocated the tiny, triangular cabin in the bow of the boat. Although very cramped, it had the big advantage of being right next to the bathroom (or ‘head,’ in sailing parlance), which meant two things: one, I didn’t have far to go if I wanted a slash during the night, and two, I discovered that the door had a decent sized keyhole… which meant that the occupant of the forward bunk (me), by moving the pillow out of the way, was sincan escort bayan able to peek into the bathroom!
Over the coming days, I was treated to the sight of the prissy Nina stripping off and washing in front of the tiny sink, her dark pink nipples erect as she flannelled herself, with her toned arse on display. I never saw her pussy properly, as she always seemed to have her back or side towards me. But her nipples really were worth seeing. They were the nipples of a mature woman, not a 19-year-old. I loved to watch her pissing in the boat toilet and wiping her pussy clean afterward, while I stroked my aching cock.
One morning though, I made the mistake of squinting through the keyhole when I heard movement next door… unfortunately, it was just Herr Mayer taking a dump. Before I could look away, I caught sight of him seated on the bog, grunting as he squeezed out a huge turd in a noisy, and quite disgusting fashion. It was almost enough to put me off my voyeuristic activities.
Sadly, the lovely Hanne and Annika always saved their ablution routine till after it was a decent time for me to get up, so I never had the joy of watching their intimate activities. I did, however, have the pleasure of seeing both Hanne and Annika in their swimsuits. I had already seen Nina naked and I had no doubt she would have been horrified if she’d known that. So I wasn’t too bothered about staring at her swimsuit-clad titties and arse.
Hanne had a nice figure as well. She was a bit shorter than both Nina and her mother but was curvier, with large orb-like breasts and a curvy, sexy arse.
Her mum, however, was a different matter. We were enjoying lovely sunny weather, so her normal dress was a pair of very short shorts and a bikini top. She had a lovely figure, with nice firm, decent-sized boobs and a flat tummy. Her legs were toned, with just enough flesh on them to give her thighs a very sexy taper. I would fantasise about how she would look wearing stockings. But her crowning feature was her arse. It was just perfect, beautifully peach-shaped and it looked utterly squeezable.
Indeed, in the limited space of the boat’s galley, I would sometimes find myself in very close proximity to her and sometimes wondered if she was deliberately bending over just to tease me. Her mild flaunting might have been completely unintentional and was most likely just wishful thinking on my part. A horny teenager could interpret any kind of behaviour as flirting!
So I managed to resist the temptation to touch her, firstly because I didn’t want her running to Herr Mayer, complaining that the uncouth English boy had just groped her, and second, because even if she had responded positively, within the close confines of the boat, there was nowhere we could possibly be alone.
As a fit 18-year-old, my testosterone levels were at the max; I hadn’t had any sex action since before Nina arrived in England, so was now feeling permanently horny. The slightest brush of Annika’s body against mine, or the touch of her hand, was enough to give me a full-on boner, which I then had to try and hide, not always that successfully.
So I had to make do with masturbating as quietly as I could, in the tiny cabin in the bow of the boat. I had no shortage of fantasies to supply mental imagery: Frau Mayer in black stockings and suspenders, her lovely breasts spilling out of a lacy bra; Hanne naked underneath me, panting as I ploughed into her hungry pussy; even Hanne and Annika together. But the one which really got me off, was where I had the prissy Nina bent right over, with me pounding my thick cock mercilessly right up her virgin arsehole.
After a few days, we returned to the home mooring; Herr Mayer went back to work; Nina’s friend buggered off and things settled down into a more relaxed domestic routine. They took me out to see a few tourist sites in the surrounding area. Some of these trips just included me, Hanne, and Annika, which were very pleasant without the spoilt brat Nina being there.
But the rest of my time tended to either be spent in the kitchen, chatting to Frau Mayer, and helping her with the cooking, or with Hanne in her attic bedroom. We had become good friends and would spend hours listening to music and attempting conversation, with her trying to speak English and me trying to speak German. She would often laugh when I inadvertently said something wrong or out of context, or when I forgot to put the verb wherever it was supposed to be.
I liked it when she laughed. Her face would beam, and her eyes would sparkle. We became progressively more touchy-feely, and it wasn’t too long before it felt right to lean in, stroke her hair and give her a kiss on her lips. Thankfully, she responded by pulling me in closer and worming her tongue into my mouth.
It was pretty obvious that she fancied me as much as I did her, so it wasn’t long before we were stretched out on the bed, kissing in an exploratory way. Hanne escort sincan didn’t object when I caressed her ample breasts through her top and ‘büstenhalter’. It was frustrating though, that on this day, Hanne was wearing jeans, which added to the challenge of trying to touch her pussy. Thick denim was akin to armour plating in these situations, so I was trying to fathom the best plan of attack.
I had no idea how sexually experienced she was. My best guess was, that as a priviledged daughter of a multi-millionnaire, she would have led a very protected life this far. She wouldn’t start university till next term, so had never lived away from home. I imagined that any prospective boyfriends would have been carefully vetted by Annika and the piggy Klaus Mayer. So it was a strong possibility that she was still a virgin… Had she even had a boy’s fingers in her pussy? Surely she couldn’t be on the pill… I had no condoms with me, and certainly couldn’t risk getting her pregnant!
My mind was racing as we continued kissing deeply. I didn’t want to risk fumbling with an awkward bra catch… were German bras even the same as English ones? I didn’t know! I slipped my hand under her top and with a smooth movement, located my fingers under the bottom edge of her bra and managed to push it up and over her breasts, exposing them to my feverish touch. I was then able to lift her top up just enough to reveal one boob. I quickly lowered my head and took her rosy-coloured nipple into my mouth, to gently suck and lick it.
Hanne sighed nicely and made no attempt to resist my advances. First base!
My hands were busy exploring her thighs and bottom, but I was still wary of chancing a feel of her pussy. I was anxious not to go too far, too quickly – and risk ruining the moment. Although I had been sporting a throbbing erection since we first kissed, I’d been trying to be a bit discrete, so avoided pressing it against her leg – even though I desperately wanted to!
Hanne was responding beautifully to my sucking on her nipple, with her breathing becoming shallower, her denim-clad leg sliding sensually over mine. She lifted her upper body slightly, which allowed me to push her top up a little further, to expose her other breast.
I was just about to start sucking the other nipple, when suddenly, she pulled up and said, ‘Warten!’ (Wait!) and broke away from me. ‘Oh no,’ I thought, ‘I’ve blown it,’ mentally kicking myself. Then she added ‘Das ist überhaupt nicht bequem’ (I’m not comfortable at all) then, bless her, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, allowing it to fall loosely around her chest, before rejoining me in a horizontal position.
I took this as a green light to go to work on her other nipple. I sucked it and licked it, while I used my other hand to caress her other boob and gently roll her nipple between my fingers. I expressed my pleasure and delight by letting out lots of ‘Ohh’s’ and ‘Ahh’s’.
But I was reluctant to try and say ‘You have beautiful tits’ in German. The only word I knew was ‘Euter,’ which I think translates as ‘udder,’ so that might have gone horribly wrong.
I was still desperate to get my fingers on her pussy and couldn’t decide whether to try and stroke her from the outside, through the thick denim, or whether to go for broke and pop the button on her jeans. My dilemma was resolved a few moments later, when I suddenly felt her hand press against my rigid cock through my jeans. It was quite deliberate – no accident, no slip of her hand. I groaned as she pressed more firmly and started gently moving her hand up and down, her palm slipping over the coarse material.
My cock was so swollen, the tip was sticking out of the top of my briefs and was threatening to make an appearance out of the waistband of my low-cut jeans. I could feel precum oozing from the tip and the head was rubbing against the rough denim.
Now or never, I thought. Releasing her tit from my mouth, I moved up and kissed her deeply again. She was lying flat on her back, so I reckoned there might be enough clearance under the waistband of her jeans to slide my hand down, thereby avoiding the sudden interruption of having to wrestle with the metal rivet.
I ran my fingers down her stomach and without pausing, flattened my hand and slid it under the denim. There was just enough room to be able trace my middle finger over the cotton of her panties and feel the top of her slit. A touch lower, and I knew I had to be in the vicinity of her clit. Then I applied a little pressure and started to gently move my finger up and down, rubbing her clit through her panties.
Hanne gasped as I gently worked her pussy and lowered my lips to a nipple. She was starting to slowly move her hips in response to the gentle motion of my finger and gave my cock a squeeze, before pressing the flat of her palm hard against it.
Encouraged, I momentarily withdrew my hand from her jeans, just long enough to undo the button and ease the zip down a couple of inches. Then I quickly slid my hand back inside, but this time, I made sure I navigated under the edge of her cotton panties. The additional freedom of movement allowed my fingers to brush over her soft pubic hair and travel further down her slit, which was deliciously moist.
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