March 11, 1944. Tiergarten Park, Berlin. War rages. Bombs echo. Widows everywhere. Few men left. I’m on that bench. Tall, blonde, athletic. Hildegarde. Educated. Music lover. Theater junkie. Man-obsessed. I scan passersby. Ignore the drone of doom. Crave escape in lust. Power in a man’s grip. Today, my target: Colonel Siegfried Aufchtate. Cocky. Charismatic. Power-hungry. Strides like he owns the world. I know his route to the War Ministry. Saturdays, I justify my secretary gig there. Typing, shorthand for the old admiral and his new pet colonel. He appears. Heart races.
“Colonel Aufchtate!” I rise. Approach. He scans me. Heels. Toned calves. Cream skirt hugging thighs. Flat belly. Perky tits, lace peeking. Gold chain. Platinum hair. Blue eyes locked. Sly smile.
The Awakening
He stammers. I play coy. “Hildegarde, your general’s secretary.” We walk together. Pulse pounds. Profile sharp. Intense eyes scream dominance. I want him between my legs. Risky as hell. War hangs sluts. But fuck it.
Small talk. He teases preferences. Flirty glint. Ministry looms. “Don’t enter with me.” Obedient nod. Day drags. Typing memos. He eyes me during shorthand. No eye-fuck allowed. Bell tolls 9 PM. Exhausted. Achy. Hungry. General gone. Colonel lingers. I must too. Daydream hits. Home bath. Naked soak. Fingers on tits. Nipple pinch. Down belly. Smooth mound. Wet slit. Two fingers deep. Thumb on clit. Explosive.
“Hildegarde!” Snapped back. Dash to his office. Pussy throbs. Soaked. Pale? Fatigued? Bullshit. I want him. Close in. Stare at lips. Hand on his crotch. Bulge stirs. Grab neck. Crush mouth. Tongue invades. Massage his growing cock through pants. He backs to desk. I grind harder. Feel it swell.
The Act
His shock fades. Desire flares. He’s fantasized too. Yanks hair. Breaks kiss. Hand squeezes ass. Firm. Ours eyes lock. Inches apart. My grip tightens. He retakes control. Crushes lips. Fingers hike skirt. Rough skin on thigh. Tease upward. I unbuckle. Buttons pop. Cock out. Hot. Thick. Trim bush. Balls heavy. Stroke shaft. Lick pre-cum bead.
The Act
Pull back. Deep kiss. He circles clit. Pinches. Dips lips. Two fingers plunge. So wet. No resistance. Knuckle-deep. Twists inside. Hunt G-spot. I pump his dick. Legs buckle. Drop to knees. Pain shoots. But that cock. Massive up close. Tongue laps head. Suck in. Deep throat tease. Swirl tongue. Fondle balls. Squeeze. He throbs. Hands lift me. Savage eyes. Hoists on desk. Skirt up. Panties yanked. Soaked. Ripe scent.
Legs clamp. He glares. Forces thighs wide. Cock nudges pussy. Grip it. Guide home. Thrusts deep. Balls slap ass. Slow. Brutal. Full. Clench walls. Milk him. Fire builds. He slows. Pulls out. Disappointment. Spins me. Face-down. Pinned. Skirt flipped. Exposed. Cock at entrance. Rams in. Hands on back. Deeper. Grabs hair. Yanks. Arches me. Pounds harder. Spasms hit. I cum hard. Contractions milk him. He explodes. Hot spurts fill me. Collapse.
The Secret
Panting. He withdraws. Cum drips. Stares at my curves. Married. Bored wife. I meet eyes. Shared turmoil.
“Not a word. Or worst death imaginable.” Eyes down. “I won’t tell.” Defiant spark. “But this is just the start…”
Boom. Distant blast. Bombs resume. Time froze. Secret thrill pulses. Oseness electrifies. War’s chaos? Perfect cover. I’ll crave his dominance again.