A couple of comments from last time made me think I should continue this story, and whilst I had the ending in my head, I didn’t really feel I had done it justice on paper, so I wanted to put another nail into this bastard’s coffin. I hope you all share my repugnance of this character.
The story became a tiny bit erotic as I thought it through, something I have never tried before. I am prudish, and feel quite uncomfortable both reading and writing this kind of stuff, and although it is not explicit, please be gentle with me.
Hello, this is Heike once again. I thought I would post a short update to my anniversary tale for you.
Last Sunday, I was enjoying my lie-in. Work seems to be getting harder for me, I work at a garment factory in the town. My eyes often feel tired, they are not so good any more and it is sometimes difficult to maintain the necessary quality. So, I appreciate time away from the factory, especially time when my eyesight is not crucial.
Mark had gone downstairs to brew some coffee, and I could smell the delicious aroma infiltrating the house. Five minutes later, he returned, complete with coffee, some strawberry jam, and a couple of croissants he had just heated for us to share.
While I tucked in, Mark turned on the TV. My croissant finished, I put the plate on my bedside cabinet and muttered to Mark, “turn that down please, I think I will go back to sleep”. With that, I turned over and settled down to continue my nap.
But Mark was not finished. As I was dozing, I felt his hands on my body. Was this real, or was I dreaming? They were so soft, yet firm. Rousing myself slightly, I began to respond. Mark was clearly in the mood – this promised to be a pleasurable start to the day, as I twisted to find more comfortable access.
Turning over, my eye caught sight of the now-muted TV, where I caught a glimpse of a face I recognised. Suddenly alert, I cried, “hey, there’s your friend, that guy Jaeger. What’s he been doing?” Mark had now twisted so that he, too, could see the TV. “Put the sound on”, I commanded, as Mark reached for the remote.
What was that? An exposé by one of the Sunday newspapers? Kurt Jaeger spotted visiting a prostitute. “Pah, something and nothing”, sighed Mark. “That might have meant something forty years ago, but not now”. But as Mark lost interest, I kept watching. And that’s when the story became interesting. A year underage continued the report, and the coup de grace, that she was of North African origin. There was talk of legal action, but the exposé showed photographs and claimed to have a name, too. Mark was alert once again. This changed things, it could be career-ending, especially for somebody with such public beliefs. This girl was one of the very people Jaeger wished to push back across the sea!
Now watching the programme, the next story came on, and I had just decided that my lie-in would be more attractive, when I felt Mark’s hands again. The day was about to get even better!