Chapter 1: Elke and Les

Elke was born in Munich, West Germany. She is one of those tall, curvy blondes that Germany seems to produce so well, a bubbling girl who radiates health and vitality from pore. Tourists—male tourists—and soldiers of the United States are familiar with girls like Elke.

Luscious blonde beauties seem to be in abundance in all parts of Europe, but Germany appears to have cornered the market. And Elke has received not only her share of beauty, but the share that should have gone to a few other girls, too. Her eyes are wide set, and give the impression of uncontrolled passion in the deep depths of their clear blue color. Her lips are full and naturally pink, almost red, the bottom lip being a bit fuller. With full, rounded breasts riding high on her rib cage, a narrow waist and womanly hips, Elke can—and does—set the pulse pounding in every man that looks at her. Today, this is especially so when she flashes her golden thighs beneath the miniskirts and hot pants she wears so well.

At the age of eighteen, her beauty and impression of wild, abandoned sexuality drew the then occupying soldiers toward her in droves. During those closing days of the military occupation, many West German families still were in a state of hunger—Elke’s family was destitute. Her father, a Colonel in the tank corps of Field Marshall Rommel, was killed in the last days of battle before Rommel’s defeat, leaving Elke and her mother.

As a teenager, Elke became aware of her powerful potential as a provider of sorts for her mother. She discovered the soldiers would pay dearly for her sexual favors. Although she did not prostitute herself in the sense of soliciting the men, she was overwhelmed by their generous offers of food and money and clothing, including hard to get items such as butter and sugar, and especially nylons. The soldiers knocked her door down to shower her with their treasures, never asking for anything in return, but hoping.

But Elke was also a tease, a tease who knew how far to let an eager soldier go with her before stopping him. She would promise them sexual favors in return for the delicacies, then welch in ways the poor men didn’t feel cheated.

Then, when she eighteen, she met a handsome young officer and fell in love. Within a week, the relationship became sexual. In six months Elke was a blushing—but sexually experienced—bride.

In those days, every German was of the impression that all Americans were wealthy beyond dreams. And, of her young husband, it was almost true. This man had an extremely good income from a trust left by his grandfather, and now that Elke was married, she found herself living in the very lap of luxury for the first time in her life. At the end of her husband’s service commitment, she—and her mother—made the voyage to the promised land, along with many other young German brides.

She was greatly impressed to find herself the lady of a stately Southern plantation in Georgia, although the plantation was no longer worked as a producing concern. She was impressed, too, by her husband’s abilities to keep her very well satisfied sexually. And when she became pregnant at the age of nineteen, her world was complete.

For eighteen years, Elke and her husband were deliriously happy, taking pride in watching their son, Les, grow from a chubby baby to young boy almost as tall as his father.

Then tragedy.

Elke’s husband was killed during a hunting expedition when his jeep ran down an embankment, crushing his skull. She was now alone, she and her eighteen-year-old son. Her mother had passed away two years prior to the jeep accident, and Elke no longer had a surviving relative in the world.

Although she loved her husband dearly and mourned his loss as any grieving widow would, she was shocked when his will was probated. He had left her nothing ... everything went to their son, Les. When she discovered that the trust would be administered by a local lawyer with the reputation of absolute honesty and incorruptible ideas, she was furious.

No longer could she spend money freely. Now, if she wanted something, even a new pair of hose, her son would have to be consulted and his approval given. Strange as the will was, it was upheld by the courts and Elke found herself at the mercy of her eighteen-year-old son.

The situation wasn’t as bad as Elke feared. Les loved his mother and would have willingly turned his money over to her if the courts would have allowed it. Although he told her this many times, Elke wouldn’t believe it. She became desperate, afraid she would find herself in the same situation as she had been when growing up in Germany. And, although money was still in abundance for the house and everyday needs, Elke watched with growing jealousy as her son spent great sums of money on his girl friends. She became tightened that Les would deplete the trust in his youthful ways, and determined to save some so she would be able to live out the rest of her life in the luxury she had become accustomed to.

When I used the word mercy above, I did not mean to imply that Les was a terror with his mother. On the contrary, he loved her very much as any son loves his mother. He could not understand her feelings regarding the money. To him, it was hers as much as his, and when his mother accused him of someday marrying and leaving, he would take the money with him and she would be nothing in his life, Les was heartbroken. Her attitude confused him, and in his young mind, he began to realize the jealousy of his mother toward his girlfriends.

Although reluctant, Les gave up his girlfriends and proudly told his mother that from now on, he was going to stay with her and she would be the only girlfriend he would ever need.

“I can’t explain my feelings,” Elke said to me. “I was so afraid my son would leave me and I would have to go back to Germany and become a soldier’s girl or something worse just to survive.

“I would watch Les go off on his dates and become very jealous of him. Well, not of him, really, but more of the pretty girls he was going with. They looked so fresh and lovely, and I remembered the ways the soldier’s used to give me everything they had, and I was afraid my son was doing this with the young girls.

“You see, when I met my husband, he was engaged to a girl here in Georgia and threw her over for me. I’ve met the girl a few times since I came here, and she doesn’t have anything at all. She despises me for taking her rich man away from her, I know. Anyway, I would watch Les go out with those girls and I began thinking of all the money he was spending on them. I knew that someday he would meet one of those sweet things and get married. Then, one day—although he was eighteen at the time—Les introduced me to a beautiful brunette of his own age. I don’t remember what her name was, but she was a typical Georgia peach ... the type of sweetness this state is famous for.

“I could tell by the way she looked at my son how much in love with him she was. I would watch them wander around holding hands, or kissing each other, and I began to worry about the future.

“This was about the time the miniskirts began to come into fashion, and that little girl looked so sexy, with her legs and thighs, I found myself outright jealous of her. Once, when I saw my son place his hand on her knee, she giggled and blushed, shoving his hand away. From my position behind the window, I watched this girl tease my son with her flashing eyes and rounded little body until he was almost begging her for some sort of sexual enjoyment.

“About a week later, I happen to come up on them while they were sitting in the grape arbor. The vines were very thick, and they didn’t know I was there, but I could hear them giggle and whisper to each other. Knowing what I would see, I parted the vines and looked in at them. My son had his hand on the girl’s thigh, almost to the hem of her short skirt.

They were kissing and I could see the way her tongue probed around inside his mouth. She had her hand on top of my son’s, not letting him shove it any farther up her thigh. Finally the kiss ended, and I heard my son say, ‘Come on ... no one will know. I can’t take much more of your teasing. Let me have just one feel ... that’s all, then I’ll leave you alone.’

“The girl refused, giggling and shoving his hand away. My son made a lunge for her and in the process, happen to wrap an arm around her so that his palm felt across her small, but rounded breast. For a moment, the girl leaned against him, sighing as he squeezed the small mound. I watched as my son hunched his pelvis against the girl’s buttocks, and it was then I realized he was aroused to the point of erection. When he pulled away, turning the girl with him, he took one of her hands and brought it down between them, placing it on top of his hardon. ‘Then you feel me,’ he whispered to her, wrapping her fingers about his prick. The girl giggled, but she didn’t take her hand away. Instead she squeezed him harder, moving her fingers slightly on the bulge there. ‘Take it out,’ my son urged. Still giggling, the girl pulled his zipper and brought his prick free. ‘Do it to me,’ he said, and the girl began to work her fist back and forth on my son’s prick.

“They were facing me and I could see everything she did to him. She was leaning her head on his shoulder, and her hand moved up and down the shaft and over the swollen head of him. She didn’t protest when Les closed his hand over one of her breasts this time, but let him feel of her. I could hear both of them panting as I stood there and watched this thing between my son and his girlfriend. And, unlike any other mother, I wasn’t horrified to see my son in sex play with a girl. On the contrary, I found myself stimulated by seeing his prick being handled so intimately by this young, simpering girl. I could see by the way she fondled him that she didn’t know much about how to please a boy.

“I was breathing fast as I watched them, and I felt my nipples grow long and hard beneath my bra. They were sensitive enough under normal circumstances, but right then they felt absolutely raw with tingling nerves. My pussy seemed to swell and grow moist and I found my legs were trembling. My husband had been dead almost eight months when this happened, and I had been without sex all that time. Maybe that’s the reason I reacted the way I did.

“The girl played with his prick like that for about five minutes, then she suddenly jerked her hand away and ran from the arbor, giggling as her short skirt flew around her slender thighs. My son groaned in frustration, then replaced his prick and went after her. I returned to the house, not wanting to see anymore.

“About a month later, I saw them again. They were on the back porch with the light on, sitting in the swing. My son had his hand almost between her thighs this time, but she was trying hard to shove it away. Les was pleading with her for ‘just one feel.’ But the girl continued to refuse, saying she was going to slap his face if he didn’t take his hand from beneath her skirt. I then heard my son say, ‘Let me feel of you just one time! Just once, and I’ll buy that bracelet you like so much.’ The girl looked up at his face, and then she squealed, pressing her mouth against his. She pulled her hand from his and wrapped it around his neck, and my son shoved his hand between her thighs. The girl opened her legs I saw his hand slide up and then cup her pussy. He had moved the skirt up with his hand, and I saw the blue panties she was wearing, and then he began to rub his hand up and down the crotch. She pulled her mouth from his and leaned on his shoulder, letting him rub her pussy a little longer, then suddenly pulled his hand away. ‘That’s enough, Les,’ she said, sliding away from him. ‘I let you feel me, now you promised to buy the bracelet for me. Don’t forget.’ Les reached for her again, but the girl jumped to her feet. ‘I’ve got to go home now, Les. Bring the bracelet to me tomorrow night, okay?’ My son agreed, and when he stood up, I saw his prick shoving against the front of his pants. The girl saw it, too. She smiled, and then reached out to touch it lightly with her fingers. ‘You get so big, Les. If you’re nice to me, I might let you do it to me one of these days.’ Then she pecked at his lips and left.

“That night I thought about what I had seen and heard. I knew the girl didn’t really like my son. All she wanted him for was what he could buy for her. I tried to find a way to tell my son she was nothing more than a prick teaser, that he would spend and spend and never get into her panties. Besides, I found myself not wanting him to stick his prick into her. I suppose you could say that night was when I made up my mind to keep my son for myself.”

Elke was then thirty-seven. Having an abnormal fear of poverty, she decided that night that if the only way she could keep her son—and his money—to herself was through sexual relations, then she would do so. And once she had decided on this course of action, she found herself warming to the idea of having relations with her son. The problem of incest didn’t enter her mind at all. To her, it was the only way of assuring she would be secure financially, and as she thought of the sexual aspect, she found herself delighted to once again have a sexual partner.

“I knew I was still beautiful, but I was out of date in my dress. I decided that if I was going to show my son what a prick teasing little gold digger that girl was, then I would have to dress the part. I know how crazy it sounds, but I had to get permission from my son to buy new clothing. No, I don’t mean the necessities like a bra or new panties and that sort of thing. But I wanted to buy a whole new wardrobe to impress him with my availability. When I spoke to Les about it, he signed the permit readily. He never refused me anything at all, and I knew he would allow me this extravagant purchase.

“I went shopping and bought all manner of nice things. I found the new miniskirts beautiful and purchased five of them, along with some minidresses. I found new underclothing, too. Before, I would buy the feminine type panties and bra, but now I bought the sexiest items I could find. Ten pairs of panties I bought in all colors including the flowered prints ... and all of them so transparent, everything I had showed clearly through them. I bought bras with holes so my nipples could stick out, cut real low with the snaps in front. I found lovely blouses that clung to me and outlined my nipples perfectly. I even bought the new style boots that come up to the knee. Next I went to the hairdresser and had my hair done. Before, I would wear it in the traditional German style of braids wound at the back. Now, I let it hang loose with a part in the center of my head. I was amazed at the way I looked. My whole appearance was changed and I looked ravishing. That isn’t just me talking, but the comment of my hairdresser.

“When I got home, I went directly to my bedroom and peeled my clothes off. This was at the first part of October, and my son was still in school. I wanted to be ready for him when he came home. I showered, scrubbing myself until my skin glowed. Then I used perfume on various parts of my body, even running the scent between my thighs. I wasn’t sure how this would turn out, but I wanted to be prepared in any event. I dropped a bit of perfume in crotch of my panties and over my nipples. Then, choosing a pair of the sheer panties of the flowered print, I slipped them over my hips. I thought for a moment about wearing panty hose, then decided nylons with a garter belt would be more sexy. I cupped my breasts in a new bra and made certain my nipples were standing out the way they were supposed to do. Taking a yellow blouse, I buttoned it with the exception of the two top buttons, leaving it open so the space between my breasts was exposed. Then I put on an emerald green, pleated miniskirt and looked at myself in the mirror. I was pleased with the appearance, and was hoping desperately that my son would like me.

“I was ready now, and if my knowledge of sex was great enough, I knew I would soon have my son so aroused he wouldn’t worry about me being his mother.

“I was in the living room when Les came in. He saw me sitting there and stopped, his eyes wide. I stood up so he could get the full effect of me and his eyes opened even more. ‘Mother,’ he said, looking from my head to my toes. ‘Wow! You really look good! Gosh ... I smiled at him, feeling myself thrill to the expression on his face. I turned, letting him look at me from all angles, and when I faced him again, his eyes strained directly on my breasts. I glanced down to make sure my nipples were right, and I saw the outlines of them poking at the yellow blouse. ‘Do you like me, Les?’ I asked him, licking my tongue over my lips to moisten them, make them glisten. ‘Am I as pretty as your girlfriends now?’ He pulled his eyes away from my breasts and looked into my face, then down at my thighs below the short miniskirt. ‘Gosh, Mother, you look better! you don’t look old at all. You look about twenty!’