Chapter 14

Every time I'm in Amsterdam I always pay a visit to Brunhilda, the sweetest piece of motherly whore flesh that ever walked this earth. It was she who had initiated me into sex when I was sixteen. My parents were teachers and had taken me along on their umpteenth tour of Europe. When we got to Amsterdam they left me pretty much alone ... and that's how I met Brunhilda.

She was sitting in a window in the red light district, dressed in a corset and high-laced boots. I liked her from the start: she looked friendly and open and, in those days, very young. Hardly older than myself. She was a big fleshy woman with a lot of tit and thigh and when she beckoned me I didn't hesitate to walk in. She was fair and treated me well and 111 always be grateful to her-at least a small part of me will.

I excused myself from the tour for a few hours and made my way to Brunhilda's. When I opened the door there she was: as big and beautiful as ever. We gave each other a bear hug and kiss and I shut the door behind me. Just when it was about to close

I realized that Peter Poynter was standing there, looking even more white and anemic than ever.

He asked to speak to me privately. I felt a little edge around him, ever since that night at the sex commune. Although I was almost certain it wasn't he who had sucked me off, I wasn't sure. I was, however, pretty certain that he was nine-tenths homosexual and one-tenth heterosexual and only that intermittently. He outlined his problem to me: he didn't want to have relations with a woman, not now at least, but he did have a tremendous desire to see one masturbate. He'd heard about Brunhilda from Vivi. Could she accommodate him? He'd pay her $25.00 if she would.

I told him to wait a few minutes and I'd ask her. I went upstairs and again she gave me a bear hug, laughing when I told her Peter's request "Of course," she said. "For you, Vic, anything. I can give you a special treat." She pointed at a mirror-it looked like any mirror to me. When she told me it was a two-way mirror I laughed excitedly. Brunhilda and I were past sex-if you know what I mean. This would be fun. She showed me where to go and then told me to tell Peter to come up.

I walked downstairs. He was twitching and generally looking weak. He seemed relieved when I told him that Brunhilda had agreed. Then I said I'd meet him back at the hotel. He looked chagrined, but conceded.

I waited till he closed Brunhilda's door and then I hopped up the stairs to the spare room* I sat down on a chair and watched Peter nervously rub his hands together while Brunhilda undressed. The room was bathed in sunlight and the plush cushions, couches, and bedspread burned a blood red. If I knew Brunhilda she'd put on a good act... and she did.

She stayed within touching distance of Peter while she removed her clothes, taking her time unlacing her corset and her boots. I could see Peter's eyes bulging and his mouth opening wide. Brunhilda was keeping up a steady stream of chatter and her movements were coyly sensuous. Peter must have asked her if he could undress because within a few minutes he removed all his clothes. His prick looked very slim and his skin was pale: he was visibly trembling.

I ran my eyes over Brunhilda's body-still the same woman, if not even more a woman. In some ways she reminded me of Sadie Sharp, but while Sadie was out and out brassy, Brunhilda was subtly sensuous. Her giant tits hung down like tear drops and her ass was high and seemed like it was actually following her. Her upper arms and thighs were thick but soft-looking. Her stomach protruded but only so far as to remain sexy, instead of like people who have gone to seed. A woman's woman-that's what Brunhilda was. She knew it and so did my prick.

She beckoned to Peter and directed him to sit on the edge of the bed, turning him around so that I could get a good look at both of them. Then she threw her head back dramatically, unloosened her long, thick black hair and lay down on the pillows. Peter moved slightly away, his prick hanging limp between his legs.

Brunhilda opened her legs, exposing her enormous gash to our eyes. Then she pointed at it and patted Peter on the knee. He jumped up, but then he sat down again. When she spread her legs even wider Peter stared and when she began to control her muscles, opening and closing her hole, I felt my prick begin to pulsate lightly.

She reached down for her pussy with both her hands and began to run her fingers over it as someone would if they were playing a harp. She closed her eyes and from the expression on her face I could see that she was moaning. At the same instant that my prick gave another jerk I noticed that Peter's was beginning to erect. He looked down at it, clearly surprised. Brunhilda now began to fingerfuck herself, beginning with one finger and then adding another then another. She was squirming in her place, her hips shimming and shaking, her breasts sliding from one part of her chest to another.

I reached down for my erection, thinking how though Brunhilda was playing it false my responses were true. Her fingerfucks became more intense, as was the general movement of her body. Her patch peeked out between her fingers and I could see her asshole contracting.

At the same time Peter put his hand over his prick, took his stem between his fingers, and began to masturbate. His eyes were shining and he was totally absorbed by Brunhilda. So was I.

When she began to stimulate her clitoris with her thumb, rubbing it hard, Peter swung fully into a mastubatory rhythm. His eyes were closed now and I could see Brunhilda wink at me over her tits. I winked back at her, even though she couldn't see me, and took myself fully in hand. My prick sprang out to a full erection and I continued to tease it along, staring at Brunhilda.

When. Brunhilda started to thrash about, screaming and moaning words I couldn't make out, Peter opened his eyes. He moved closer to her, put out his hand to touch her, but then withdrew it. Disgust, repulsion, curiosity, and fear crossed his face and for one moment I saw, or thought I saw, tears in his eyes. He got up as though he was going to leave and then he sat heavily down again.

Brunhilda continued her labors, drawing him in with her words. His face relaxed and a certain kindness-and lust-crept into it. He now seemed to be egging her on, applauding her, marvelling at her. His hand moved quickly up and down on his shaft and his body began to shake.

Just then I saw Brunhilda arch her back, bring up her hips, and shake her head. She was coming, she seemed to be saying, yes, she was coming. I felt my nerves tingling and lightning bolts shooting through me. My chest was heaving and I was sweating, letting myself go, relaxing into my orgasmic cycle, up, up....

I shuddered and shot my load then shot it again. Through my half closed eyes I saw Brunhilda's mouth form a perfect O, I heard her moans of ecstasy, I felt her warmth through the mirror. This was real, she was real, and Peter sensed it. In a split second he climbed on top of her, held open her legs, pulled away her hands, and rammed into her. In passion he was fierce and his hips swung into her moist cavern with force and might. Slam, slam, slam went Peter, Brunhilda moaned, took aim, and slammed her big hips into him. Ram, ram, ram. Peter yelled and laughed wildly and with one final thrust he came; then he collapsed on her, completely fulfilled.

I glanced down at my come soaked cock, smiled, zipped up my fly, and walked out