Chapter 2

Hilda hated the University town with the bicycles roaming the streets in day and night.

She had to be careful because now she had baby Greta in the stroller and some of those riders flew through the intersections with little thought as to pedestrians crossing the road. It seemed like the students and even the professors were infected with a need to be in a rush to get somewhere never leaving even a little bit of time for a margin of error.

It was not the way she had been brought up in Germany and she missed the careful planning for street traffic and the plentiful police and military men on the street to make certain everything was in order.

Her husband was neither a student nor a professor.

That really put them on the outskirts of the closed circuit society that revolved around the University and the mystique of higher education. She had been brought up by her prostitute mother to be a good little girl following orders and adding to her mother’s income when the client was in the market for an age play scenario. The war year’s made her mother a rich woman but she kept her money hidden in the woods because she didn’t trust the banks to protect her hard-earned loot from scammers and thieves. That proved to be invaluable to Hilda later after her mother was killed in a random bombing that caused their building to collapse.

The Gestapo interrogator that had taken a liking to Hilda secured papers for her to make her way to the coastline where she thought she had a better chance of being invaded by French, British or American forces rather than the dreaded soldiers from Russia with their urge to take revenge on every German female they encountered. The tales of rape and looting by the Russian troops made every woman fearful of rape and torture at the hands of hordes of sex-starved Communist troops on the verge of surrender and capture by enemy forces.

Her father had been in the Panzer Corps and as such he was a member of the Army SS units by reason of his job and not his politics. She was glad her home was totally destroyed because the many awards with the SS emblem and the photos of Nazi origin throughout the entire home.

The Gestapo man’s name was Leamus and he was a real weasel when it came to avoiding capture. He had gotten her the papers and he headed east because he was underneath it all a hidden Communist and his official party papers were a secret that he vowed to take to his grave without disclosing. Besides, he spoke Russian and had the ability to talk his way out of almost any situation.

Hilda was ashamed of submitting to his perverted demands but she had been trained by her mother to obey the orders of a man when money or favors were given in exchange and she was her mother’s daughter through and through.

Thankfully, she was living in a free society now.

Her next door neighbor was a peroxide blonde housewife with two little kiddies to watch after and tow around like anchors wherever she went. Her husband was a management specialist at the University and he was black as the ace of spades. His name was Ralph and her name was Trixie. Hilda smiled when she heard the girl’s name every time because she thought it was a smashing name despite the fact it was used quite often in naming little puppies either male or female. She knew the girl was not in the least bit like a bitch but she had told her more than once that getting it from behind by a huge black cock was absolutely the best thing ever.

Hilda’s own husband was attentive and well-mannered but that was not quite her cup of tea either. She preferred the rough treatment from a bad boy and a slap and a tickle instead of constant kissing and speaking poetry as a prelude to coitus because she had her own likes and dislikes when it came to doing that dirty thing called sex.

Fortunately for Hilda, the postman was an accommodating chap to say the least and he was quick to drop his trousers when she licked her lips in that way that left no doubt as to her inclination at the time.

Then, there was the constable with the ginger moustache that brushed her feminine folds harshly when he was diving for pussy instead of filling out the dreary report on stolen bicycles. She loved the way he would spit in between her bum cheeks to give them a little lubrication before he tested the tightness of her rear door entry with his demanding tongue.

In a way, she was glad both of them were safely married because it meant no pressure of a misguided love affair with a disastrous ending likely in the near future.

Her regret was the impertinent butcher’s assistant who was far too young for her but she could not resist his magnetic cock with its left leaning angle that drove her around the bend when he insisted she bend over the butcher’s block when she picked up her order. She was ashamed of her behavior with the boy but was unable to end the affair because he was so adamant about loving her behind with his impetuous nature and she would spend the rest of the day daydreaming about his exciting demands.