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Message-ID: <40917asstr$1045505403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Henrik Larsen" <henlar@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Hausefrau 1946 by Henrik Larsen (mf rom)
Date: Mon, 17 Feb 2003 13:10:03 -0500
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(c) Copyright Henrik Larsen 2002



Comments are very welcome. You can reach me either through assd or by e-mail 
at henlar@hotmail.com.


This story contains elements of explicit sexual nature.

If, for some reason, you feel offended by erotic stories, then I don't know 
why you have opened this one. Maybe to be offended, so you can complain 
about how awful it is that somebody writes stuff like this. If that's the 
case, my advice is to seek professional help. You need it. If you are not 
allowed to read stories like this, I will not be held responsible, if you 
choose to continue. But don't worry; it's all fantasy.

A great thanks to Jacques Noir for editing the story.

Reposting or any other use of this story is strictly prohibited without the 
express, written permission of the author.




Preface.

This story was my contribution to the "Housewife 1946# theme at Ruthie's 
Club in the spring of 2002. A lot of authors participated and some of the 
other stories have previously been posted here. Mine is entitle "Hausefrau 
1946" because 'my' housewife is German.



Hausfrau 1946

I clearly remember the evening on the fourth of May and the days following. 
The voice from London came through on the radio despite the German jamming: 
"This is London. It has just been announced from General Montgomery's 
headquarters that the German troops in Holland, Belgium, Schleswieg, 
Holstein, and Denmark have surrendered." We had all been waiting for it to 
happen and it was like the cork popping from a bottle of champagne. The 
black curtains were torn from the windows and the light could shine out. 
Five years of darkness were over. People put lights in the windows. The 
streets were crowded with happy people. A girl I'd never seen before threw 
her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately. We walked with the flow 
down the street, arm in arm. We were intoxicated, not so much from drinking 
but from the relief we all felt: Free at last.

The girl and I ended up in a room somewhere, perhaps her home, perhaps some 
friend's place. I can't remember and it didn't matter. We made love. It 
seemed to be the natural thing to do. It was my first time, the first time I 
went all the way with a girl and even though I didn't know her and never saw 
her again, it felt right to lose my virginity with her that night. It's a 
night I'll always remember.

The following days were filled with anxiety. The German's had arrested the 
police a long time ago and now that they had surrendered, somebody had to 
take over. The underground resistance took over. We were given an armband as 
a sign of our new status. My involvement during the war was mainly 
distributing illegal underground newspapers, but judging from the number of 
people with armbands, some had done less. Nobody cared and there was a 
general need for people.

The first thing we had to do was to arrest all the collaborators, and that 
was what caused my anxiety. My father was a surgeon and even though he was a 
modest, almost shy man, he was part of the elite in our provincial town. 
During the war German officers had frequently visited our home. We had 
distant German relatives and at the time I assume that was the reason for 
the visits, but I knew that it put my father in considerable risk of arrest 
as a collaborator.

My father had never had any sympathy for Hitler or Nazism, I knew that much, 
and I was naīve enough to believe that I could protect him. I made sure I 
was assigned to pick up collaborators from our neighbourhood. I used the few 
contacts I had to attempt to get the list of names before anybody else saw 
it, but I failed. I had a cold sweat when I finally got the list and my eyes 
scanned down, looking for his name. As I had feared, it was there but 
apparently I wasn't the only one who wanted to protect him. Someone had 
crossed out his name on the list. I was relieved, even more so because I had 
to face the fact that my own position wouldn't enable me to offer any 
protection for him. It wasn't until years later that I learned who had saved 
him, but that's a different story.

There is a link, though. I'd often heard the German officers talk about 
Germany and in the later part of the war they had talked about the effects 
of the allied bombings. It was the closest I'd been to the ugly face of war. 
Even though Denmark was merely occupied, there were casualties, but nothing 
compared to the devastating destruction in the countries actively involved 
in the war.

I was young, twenty years old, and studying English at the university. I'd 
switched to English after the war. I didn't have to worry too much about 
anything. My allowance from my parents was sufficient for me to live fairly 
comfortably. Many of my less fortunate mates had to work in the summer 
holidays, but not me. With the words of the German officers lingering in the 
back of my mind, I decided to go to Germany in the summer of 1946.

Hitchhiking to Hamburg was my first goal and that was easy. I got a lift on 
a lorry going directly to Hamburg and after seven hours of driving, I was in 
Hamburg with my backpack, ready to explore. My sheltered life hadn't 
prepared me for the sight that met my eyes. I'd seen pictures of the ruins 
and piles of rubble, but this was real, in colour, and life size. It had 
been a year since the German surrender and I guess that what I saw was in no 
way near what it had looked when the war ended. Still it was so much worse 
than I'd been able to imagine. I walked through the streets in the dwindling 
light of the evening and finally found a small hotel and a restaurant nearby 
where I could get a cheap meal.

Hamburg didn't look better in clear daylight. At first, the immense 
destruction was the thing that shocked me most, but then I began to notice 
the people. There were so many old people. It's difficult to explain what it 
was that made them look so depressing, but it was as if they were robots-no 
signs of joy, no signs of emotions at all. The only emotions I sensed in 
their faces when I talked to them were shame and guilt. It was very 
uncomfortable. Apparently this was brought on by my presence. I was a 
foreigner, to them a victim of their crimes, their war. At the same time, I 
was an intruder, an unwelcome visitor, prying into their misery with the 
same curiosity that makes people stop and watch a traffic accident or a 
fire. In a way, that was probably what I was doing.

Hamburg made me feel sick. I'd seen more than I ever wanted of the 
consequences of war. I had planned to go on to Berlin or Frankfurt, but I 
couldn't stand more destruction and misery. Instead, I decided to take a 
look at the countryside that one of the German officers had described so 
vividly. What he described was Bavaria, but I didn't feel like traveling 
through Germany and would gladly settle for the farmland surrounding 
Hamburg. On the third day I caught a ride out of Hamburg in the right 
direction, and a couple of hours later found myself in the middle of 
nowhere, fields and forest replacing ruins. The change of scenery was 
refreshing. I had few chances of catching a ride out here, but I could 
probably walk to the Danish border in five or six days. If I couldn't find a 
gasthaus in the evenings, I could sleep in the open.

It was a hot summer day and I chose the road leading through the woods. The 
dappled shade of the trees helped, but it was still hot and a couple of 
hours of walking had almost emptied my waterbottle. The small house on the 
edge of the woods was a welcome sight.

I was expecting another tired, old, expressionless face to appear when I 
knocked on the door and I was flabbergasted when I saw her smile. It felt as 
if it was the first smile I'd seen since I arrived in Hamburg. Not just 
that, but she was young, two or three years older than me, tops.

"Could I fill my bottle, fraulein," I spotted the ring on her finger, "Eh, 
sorry, frau." I corrected myself.

"Certainly," she replied. "Just follow me. The well is round the back."

She was dressed in a thin summer dress, her legs and feet bare. Her blond 
hair was cut short, just covering her ears. It made her look a little like a 
boy but her features revealed that she was a woman. I threw the bucket in 
the old well and pulled it up.

"Where are you from, and what are you doing here?" she wanted to know.

"I'm from Denmark. I..." I wondered for a brief second. What was I really 
doing here? After seeing Hamburg, I didn't know. "I wanted to see Germany 
and decided to hitch-hike to Hamburg. Now I'm on my way back to Denmark. Do 
you know if there's a gasthaus down that road?"

"There's no gasthaus around here. You will have to walk a long way. But you 
can stay here if you want to," she replied.

"It's a bit early to stop for the night."

"You can at least stay for lunch," she invited.

There was something about her that made it impossible for me to decline. She 
was quite ordinary looking, but very friendly and charming.

"What will your husband say?"

"My husband is dead. He died two years ago." she replied, more matter of 
factly than sad.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's ok. We were married for a year. We thought he wouldn't be drafted 
because he had a limp, but in the end all the men were drafted. So many men 
died. But it's over now. All that is left are a lot of widows."

She forced herself to smile, but she couldn't hide the pain.

"You're young. You must have married early," I said.

"I'm twenty-four. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty. My name is Christian."

"Christian? As in Hans Christian Andersen? Can you tell me a fairytale?" Her 
smile returned.

"No, I'm afraid I'm not very good at that. What's your name?"

"Oh, sorry: Sabine. Will you stay for lunch? I don't get many visitors. 
Please say yes."

"I don't want to barge in on you," I said.

"Please. I think we can have a fine time," she said.

She had a funny look in her eyes, kind of cheeky. She bent down to pick up 
the bucket and I thought she was going to get more water.

"Let me do that," I said courteously, but before I could do anything, she 
threw the water straight at me. I don't know what surprised me the most, the 
cold water or her throwing it at me. She dropped the bucket into the well 
and looked excitedly at me.

"Oops. Now you have to stay until your clothes are dry," she giggled like a 
teenage girl.

The shock lasted a few seconds, then I began to pull the bucket up again. 
Sabine just stood there, still giggling, anticipating the inevitable: my 
revenge.

I unhooked the bucket and took a step towards her. She moved backwards, her 
eyes filled with excitement and anticipation. Escape had been easy, but she 
only pretended to try. I was a head taller than her and better nourished. I 
reached out and emptied the bucket over her, soaking her from head to toe. 
The wet dress clung to her firm body, almost revealing more than if she'd 
been naked. Sabine squealed and gasped as the cold water drenched her. I 
waited until she had caught her breath.

"OK, I'll stay," I said.

I couldn't help laughing. I unbuttoned my shirt, took it off, and then took 
off my shoes. I kept my shorts on. I wasn't sure of her intentions and 
wanted her to make the next move. Sabine promptly grabbed the hem of her 
dress and pulled it up over her head. She had nothing under it and stood in 
front of me, naked and blushing. My jaw dropped.

"Catch me if you can," she giggled and began to move away from me.

Her attempt to escape was half-hearted and I caught up with her fast. We 
rolled over in the grass and began to wrestle. She was surprisingly strong 
and managed to get on top of me, sitting on my chest with a leg on each side 
of me, holding my hands over my head. Still, she had already weakened my 
defenses considerably. She looked down on me, excitement glowing in her 
eyes, probably waiting for me to fight back, but I didn't want to. I'd had a 
couple of girlfriends, but neither of them had ever taken the initiative 
like Sabine did. It was stunning and exciting and I enjoyed it.

When she sensed my surrender, she teasingly leaned over me until her small 
breasts were an inch from my head. I stuck out my tongue and touched her 
right nipple with the tip of my tongue. Her response was a deep sigh. I had 
to strain to reach her nipple, but it wasn't long before she lowered her 
breast to my mouth. She moaned and spread her legs wider, rubbing herself 
against my abdomen and lower chest.

Sabine was openly enjoying what I was doing and that was another thing I 
hadn't experienced before. She turned everything I knew upside down, and I 
loved it. I could have sucked her breast and nipple forever, but she 
straightened her back and looked down on me with glazed eyes. Still holding 
my hands over my head, she moved upwards over my chest. She kept moving 
until her crotch covered my mouth. She didn't give me time to protest. I'd 
never experienced anything like that before and didn't know what she was 
expecting me to do. I knew some girls would take a man in the mouth, but 
this? Perhaps she sensed my indecisiveness.

"Lick me," she hissed.

She was in control and there was nothing I could do. I opened my mouth and 
began to lick tentatively. Sabine guided me to the places where she wanted 
me to lick by moving and telling me when I hit the right spot. Much to my 
own surprise, I liked it and eagerly followed her directions.

Her verbal directions turned into moans and excited cries. She released my 
hands to hold herself open and my hands found her breasts. My view was 
blocked but I could feel her strain and start to tremble until her tension 
was released in a loud cry.

She still spread herself for me with her fingers and I interpreted it as a 
sign for me to continue what I was doing. I didn't want to stop. It gave me 
an incredible feeling to be able to please her, to make her cry out with 
pleasure. Sabine's cry turned into a whimpering like she was in pain. I 
stopped licking, which was all I could do.

"No, don't stop, please," Sabine cried out.

I continued until she cried out in pleasure again. This time, she backed off 
and released my mouth. Sitting on my stomach she reached back and began to 
unbutton my shorts.

"I want to feel you in me, but you can't come in me. Tell me when you are 
close."

"I will," I croaked.

It was a bit awkward to remove my shorts and underpants this way, but she 
succeeded with a little help from me. I got my first good look at her while 
she struggled with the buttons in my short behind her back. Her eyes were 
too close together in her round face, but her small nose was cute with 
freckles that spread out on her cheeks. Her small breasts sat high on her 
chest. She wasn't fat but she had a little potbelly. Her crotch was covered 
with reddish hair over her swollen, dark red labia. It looked like a hot 
blast furnace and that was approximately what it felt like when she 
descended on me.

She straightened her back, taking me fully inside herself. If I hadn't been 
distracted by the intense look of pleasure on her face, I'd have exploded on 
the spot. As it was, she began to rotate her hips, her eyes closed and mouth 
slightly open. Then she began to move slowly up and down, all the way down 
until I could feel the tip touch something deep inside her. It was intense, 
as intense as her face showed and too intense for me to endure for very 
long.

"Sabine, I'm getting close," I warned her.

"Oh god," she gasped and jumped off me.

I was close but not all the way. Sabine knelt between my legs and wrapped 
her hand around me very gently, but she didn't do what I'd expected her to 
do. Instead she leaned over me and took me in her mouth, all the time 
looking up at me. It didn't feel as good as being inside her, but it was new 
and exciting. Her tongue did things to me I'd never dreamed of. Her head 
moved and slurping sounds escaped her. Gradually she intensified her efforts 
until I was no longer able to withstand. I filled her mouth and she 
swallowed eagerly.

For three days I forgot all about my journey and that I had promised to be 
back in ten days. It was wonderful. We made love slowly and romantically, we 
made love wildly and uninhibitedly. Sometimes it was like a fight and I 
would force her legs apart and take her, sometimes she would crave me like a 
hungry wolf, taking more of me into her mouth than she could handle, her 
eyes bulging. Gagging and coughing she expelled me, only to do it again. She 
taught me so much about how to please a woman, but in the end I remembered 
that I had to go home.

It was difficult to leave her, but there were no tears. I guess she'd shed 
whatever tears she had. I promised to return and I managed to get home in 
time. Only then I realised that I knew nothing about her except her first 
name. I didn't know the address or even her second name. While I was there, 
I'd considered asking her some of all the questions I'd come to Germany to 
get the answer to, like how could a whole nation choose a man like Hitler to 
lead them into destruction, but I realised that like me, she was only a 
child when Hitler came into power. I didn't ask her about anything and she 
didn't tell me. I think I was just a welcome stranger. All men in a radius 
of ten miles from her had died in the war. That she did tell me.

I kept my promise and returned the following summer, only to find her house 
abandoned. I tried to ask on the farm closest to her house, but they didn't 
know where she'd gone. I never found her. She remained a memory and another 
unanswered question.

I never forgot her, but it was to be twenty-four years before I was reminded 
of her again. I was reading a book published to commemorate the twenty-fifth 
anniversary of the ending of the war. It was mainly about the resistance 
movement and there among the names of famous leaders of the resistance, I 
suddenly found my father's name. What his role had been was left out and I 
decided it was time to ask him. He was an old man by then and I wanted to 
know before he passed away. His answer was this:

"I hid people in the hospital under false identities. Sometimes, a member of 
the resistance was hiding in a bed next to a German soldier. I got 
information from the officers visiting us and passed it on. I planned 
sabotage actions and was sometimes directly involved in them. But by doing 
this, I put the life of my family and friends at risk and in the end, I had 
to kill to stay alive myself. Putting the lives of the people I love at risk 
and taking the life of another human being are things that I'll never be 
proud of, no matter how just a war I'm fighting. The German soldier I killed 
was somebody's child, possibly somebody's husband and perhaps a father. I 
had to learn to live with that, but I never wanted to brag about it and I'll 
never want to be treated as a hero."

It made me think of Sabine. I never asked my father if the soldier he killed 
had a limp. It wasn't very likely. We never talked about it again, but 
somehow the two memories, my father and Sabine, melted together and became 
part of an understanding of war, if that is at all possible.


End



You can find more stories written by me at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/henlar/www/
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/henlar

The Web's Best Illustrated Adult Fiction is at http://www.ruthiesclub.com/






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