(c) Copyright Henrik Larsen 2001



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 Old Rotorhead and Cagey. I'm very grateful for their patient work, correcting and editing my stories, and their constant encouragement.

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






The Neighbour's daughter. Chapter 19.


We talked until midnight when we got home. There was so much Sophie needed to get out. Things she had kept to herself for so long. Anger, pain and all the things she felt she had missed. I mostly listened. It wasn't the right time to try and convince her that her parents loved her and always had.

We both stayed home the next day. Sophie's anger hadn't gone away over night, but she was kind of relieved. She had gotten so much off her chest and even though she wasn't ready to forgive her parents, she was ready to listen to me. We talked until lunchtime. By then, Sophie was beginning to understand what her parents had been thinking, and we were beginning to get a little tired of talking about it. After all, she felt good, she was where she wanted to be, and she was definitely with someone who loved her unconditionally: me. 

After lunch, we took a bath together. We both loved the feeling of slippery soapy skin against skin. The marks and bruises after the clothespins were apparently more or less gone. Her nipples were a little sore, but Sophie admitted that she'd had the pins on her nipples for quiet a long time. She couldn't remember exactly how long, or she wouldn't tell me. I was cautious, but we still got pretty worked up, and we decided to go to bed again. 

"There's something I want to ask you to do," Sophie said, as we ran into the bedroom, damp and naked. 

"No spanking or clothes pegs, please," I grinned. 

"No, it's not that," Sophie said, but added, "You might have to spank me again. I'm such a naughty little girl and I get so hot when you spank me."

I chose to ignore that. 

"What is it, then?" I asked.

"Do you remember when you had given me chocolate for my birthday, and you licked it off my face?" she asked.

"Yes, I remember. I licked it off your face and a few other places."

"I think it was the first time I really realised how much you loved me. I mean, it was so . . . intimate. Would you lick my face again, please?"

"I'll lick any part of your body that you wish, my love."

"Ummm, I might take you up on that later, but right mow, I just want to feel you inside me, while you lick my face."

Sophie lay on her back and she pulled her legs up and out. I studied her pussy before I lay down over her. It wasn't all true that the pins hadn't left any bruises. There were several bruises on her outer and inner lips. Only her clit had had no marks, probably because the pin had been taken off so fast. I didn't confront her with the facts. It was over. 

My cock sank into her very easy. I rested on my elbows with my hands on her tits, very gently brushing over her nipples, and I began to lick her face from the top, licking her brow and temples and continuing down to her eyebrows, then her eyelids and her nose. Her cheeks were so smooth. I spent a long time licking and kissing them thoroughly. I licked her ears a little too, but I couldn't do Sophie's, and my own, favourite thing: suck on her earlobes. The piercing hadn't healed yet. I continued with her upper lip, licking and sucking it. She just let me do whatever I wanted with her soft lips. 

All the time, we moved slowly against each other. Except for rocking her hips slowly, Sophie just lay completely still and enjoyed it. She was breathing noisily through her nose, faster and faster. I was completely absorbed in the licking, working down her neck after I'd licked every square inch of her face. My tongue couldn't reach anything below her neck, the way we were laying, and it just felt so good that I didn't want to move. I let go of her tits, held her head in my hands and began licking her face again. 

Sophie suddenly inhaled noisily and rotated her hips more, grounding herself against me. I sucked her lower lip intensely. It was an incredible intense feeling to hear her breathing become ragged and elaborate, feeling her moving harder against me, and whimper softly. It seemed to me as if her orgasm built up much slower that it usually did. Kind of deeper. I don't know if it felt the same way for her, but to me, it was extremely erotic. I let go of her head and took her hands, holding them over her head. 

Her whimper became louder and her body twisted and turned under me. She was struggling under me, struggling to get over the edge, struggling to hold back and make it grow even stronger. She threw her head from side to side. I let her control things; let her ground herself against me, even though the urge to thrust hard into her was growing. 

Her orgasm was a long whimpering cry. She trembled uncontrollably, pressing her pussy hard against me. She pulled up her legs until her knees touched her chest. It was time for me to take over. I plunged hard into her with long strokes. Sophie met my thrust and arched her back to take me in as deep as she could. It lasted an eternity. A fine sheen of sweat covered both of us. I felt like I could go on forever. My pelvic bone began to hurt, but I ignored it, and then all of a sudden I could feel it building up. I tried to ignore it, too, but the intense feeling of pleasure insisted on being noticed. I held back for as long as possible, until it was too painful. 

If I'd come in her mouth, she would have drowned. That is the best way to describe my orgasm. I poured jet after jet into her. Afterwards, we lay in each other's arms. No words were needed. We had talked all of the previous night and all morning. We were exhausted and very satisfied. 

- - -

Sophie called her parents in the evening. She was very anxious before she made the call, but once she'd done it, she felt much better. It was her father that took the call and they talked for long time. It was the beginning of some kind of understanding between them. Not that Sophie had forgiven her parents - I don't think she ever will forgive them completely - but she tried to understand and her father tried to understand her. 

It took a long time, but the relationship between Sophie and her parents got gradually better and better. Her mother has never really forgiven me, or understood Sophie. She still talks about Sophie as "her little girl". In the end, Sophie became much closer to her father than she'd ever been. 

- - -  

Finally, it looked like everything had worked out the way it should and we were both happy. We had everything: a house, a car and a solid bank account if anything should happen.

It was early in May when I got the writ. I had to read it several times, before I understood what it said. I called Mr. Zimmermann right away. I didn't have to explain.

"Yes, I had a call from one of my colleagues. He'd been approached concerning Mrs Larsen's will and after talking to me, he recommended to his client that he should give up. There's no case. Apparently, he has found another lawyer who was willing to take the case to court," Mr Zimmermann said.

"But who is this man and why do he think he has a right to Mrs Larsen money?" I asked.

"The man is Mrs Larsen's nephew. Mrs Larsen had a brother and he was married for a short time, but long enough to get a son. The son stayed with his mother after the divorce and as far as I know, Mrs Larsen only saw him once after the divorce. That was at her brother's funeral and that is over ten years ago. I don't know on what grounds he will dispute the will."

"What am I going to do? He has sued me."

"I'll recommend a lawyer to you," Mr Zimmermann answered.

"Why not you?" I asked.

"Because I'll be your most important witness."

"Oh, I see. What are the chances that I'll lose the case?"

Mr Zimmermann didn't even need to think about it.

"You don't lose the case. You can't. Mrs Larsen's will is an affidavit, signed by a second person and me. Unless he can prove that Mrs Larsen was senile and didn't know what she was doing, any judge will dismiss the case. It had been different if you'd found the will in a jar in her kitchen cupboard. Maybe that's what he thinks you did. He hasn't approached me to get any details about the will other than your name and address, which I find a little strange, especially when he wants to dispute it," Mr Zimmermann said.

- - -   

The lawyer Mr Zimmermann recommended was of the same opinion, but I was still worried. I would be in deep debt, if I lost the case and Mrs Larsen's money. I would be able to sell the house almost without loss, except the expense of moving, but selling the furniture and the car would mean a loss. I'd have to get another place to live and that would cost money as well. 

I'd gained a lot of confidence, job wise. I could afford to give up the job without having another job at hand and that made me feel safe and I think it was one of the reasons I did so well. I could afford to trust my own judgement. Not that I wanted to make mistakes and get fired, but I didn't have to worry about it and I dared take decisions that I might not have taken, had I depended on the job. I was afraid I would lose that self-confidence too, if I suddenly were in debt. 

I had a lot of sleepless night over this. Sophie tried to comfort me, and she was confident that I would win. She'd never seen anybody visit Mrs Larsen all these years, except me. 

"It will be so unfair if you lose. The nephew or whatever he claims to be, doesn't deserve it," she said.

"That's not the way things are, when it comes down to legal matters. The law doesn't recognise what is fair and what is not," I replied. "I'll just have to hope that Mr Zimmermann is right."

"I can get a job. We'll make it work." Sophie said.

She sounded worried. I was worried, but the last thing I wanted was Sophie to be worried. She'd been through enough already. Maybe it was a little egoistic as well. I needed Sophie to be happy and kind of distract my thoughts.

"We'll make it. Mr Zimmermann says everything is going to be all right."

- - -  

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait very long for the case to go to court. In the end of June, Sophie and I went to the courthouse, very nervous. None of us had ever been in a courtroom before. It was a new office building and didn't look much like a courtroom to me, but then again, I only knew what I'd seen on film.

I looked around to see if I could spot Mrs Larsen's nephew. He was sitting with his lawyer by a table opposite mine. At first, I though the young man was her nephew, but a little calculation told me that it had to be the middle-aged man. Funny how conventions can deceive you; a lawyer has to be at least forty, which is old when you are in your early twenties. 

I don't really know what I had expected her nephew to look like. Emotionally, I imagined he had horns and hoofs, but he looked very ordinary, wearing a grey suit and an ugly tie. I'd been spending hours, wondering why he would do this. My assumption was that greed was the main motive, but looking at him made me a little insecure. He looked friendly, smiling and not at all like a greedy monster. 

The nephew's lawyer was young and very enthusiastic. He presented the case and claimed that Mr Larsen was senile when she changed her will. 

The nephew presented his statement. He claimed that he had visited Mr Larsen regularly, although not often and that she'd been senile the last couple of years of her life. I knew that wasn't true, yet her nephew sounded convincing and even caring, when he talked about his old, senile aunt. 

He also claimed that she had told him that he was going to inherit all her possessions. He didn't know what had made her change her mind. Apparently, his aunt had told him that I was a scheming person and it was obvious to her that I'd only been visiting her to get to her money. Mrs Larsen would, according to his statement, never have changed her will in favour of me. When his lawyer asked him what he thought had happened, he implied that I had either forged the will or tricked her into changing it.

I was outraged. I wanted to stand up and shout at him. It was all lies and his sleek and caring appearance was all acting. It had to be. Mr Zimmermann was sure he hadn't seen her for years. I mean, why would Mrs Larsen lie about seeing her nephew? She'd seen her brother regularly while he was alive, but even he did see his own son very often. 

My lawyer asked disturbingly few questions. Only one, actually. He asked him why he hadn't come forward earlier. The nephew, Mr Jensen, had some vague explanation about being away for some time and when he got back, Mrs Larsen hadn't been at home. He didn't know that she was in the hospital and only found out that she'd died when he read the obituary that Mr. Zimmermann had written. Then it took a long time to find out who had handled Mrs Larsen's estate to learn who had inherited her money. 

Mr Zimmermann was next. My lawyer questioned him first.

"Mr. Zimmermann, how long have you been Mrs Larsen's lawyer?"

"Over forty years."

"Isn't it odd that Mr Jensen didn't know that and had to spend a long time to find out who was managed his Aunt's estate?"

"I think it is, especially because I handled the estate of his late father," Mr. Zimmermann answered.

"Did Mrs Larsen ever mention her nephew's visits?" 

"No. She mention seeing him at his father's funeral, but that was the only time," Mr Zimmermann answered.

"When did Mrs Larsen change her will?"

"Two years prior to her death."

"And who was the benefactor in the previous will?"

"Different charity organisations. I have a copy of the old will here." 

He handed a copy to the judge and Mr Jensen's lawyer. My lawyer continued.

"Did Mrs Larsen mention Mr Green's visits?"

"Yes. She talked a lot about Mr Green. She was very fond of him and grateful for his help."

"We have heard Mr Jensen say that she was afraid that Mr Green was only after her money. Did Mrs Larsen mention such concerns for you?"

"No. Quite the contrary. I had a suspicion that Mr Green was after her money, but Mrs Larsen never told him that she had any money, neither did he know that she had changed her will," Mt Zimmerman said.

"Was Mrs Larsen senile, when the will was changed?"

"No, she was definitely not senile. She remain sharp until the day she died."

My lawyer took out a piece of paper, which he handed to the judge.

"I have a statement from the doctor who treated her during her hospitalisation proceeding her death. It states clearly that Mrs Larsen was sane and was in possession of all her faculties."

He turned to Mr Zimmermann again. 

"One last question: Was Mr Jensen ever a benefactor from any of Mrs Larsen's wills?"

"No," Mr Zimmermann replied.

Mr Jensen's lawyer was pale. He hesitated for a moment, before he began to question Mr Zimmermann.

"If Mrs Larsen hadn't left a will, I believe that her estate would have gone to my client, isn't that correct?" 

"That's correct," Mr Zimmermann replied.

"Isn't it possible that you have worked with Green to get Mrs Larsen's money? You could have forged the will." 

I would have expected Mr Zimmerman to get mad at him, but he just smiled.

"It is possible, but it would have required a lot of planning. First, I should have anticipated this situation twenty years ago, when Mrs Larsen made her first will. Secondly, I should have persuaded the notary to help with the forgery. Last, but not least, I would run the risk of jeopardising my good name and the firm's reputation to gain very little. Sorry to say that, but Mrs Larsen wasn't that wealthy. It is possible, but highly unlikely that I would do that, don't you think?" Mr Zimmermann said.

"But you could have done it?" He young lawyer persisted. 

"I didn't, but I could," Mr Zimmermann replied. 

The judge interrupted Mr Jensen's lawyer.

"Have you anything to substantiate your accusations?"

"Eh, no. But it does look suspicious that the all evidence about the will and the estate is coming from Mr. Zimmermann, who himself might benefit from forging the will," the lawyer said.

"I see nothing suspicious in Mr Zimmermann's testimony. Your insinuations that Mr Zimmermann would have gained something by forging her will are pure, unfounded speculations. Unless you have solid proof, I suggest that you stop accusing Mr Zimmermann. I find it much more suspicious that your client needed several months to find out that Mrs Larsen's estate was managed by Mr Zimmermann, who had been her lawyer for forty years and that your client, as the only one, claims that Mrs Larsen was senile. We have a sworn statement from the hospital that she was in possession of all her faculties. Do you have any relevant questions to ask Mr Zimmermann?" the judge asked, harshly.

"No sir. I rest," the young lawyer said, dejectedly.

I'd expected the judge to retire before passing his ruling, but he just continued talking.

"After hearing Mr Jensen and Mr Zimmermann, I find it hard to believe that you, as a lawyer, has brought this case to court. You have in no way managed to present any evidence that there should be reason to question the authenticity of Mrs Larsen's will or her sanity. All you have been able to do is to insinuate that a respected lawyer might have committed fraud. If Mr Zimmermann should want to sue you for slander, you will probably end up paying a substantial compensation. In my view, you have wasted the time of this court, of Mr Green, his lawyer and Mr Zimmermann. Your client will have to pay all Mr Green's expenses. Mrs Larsen's will stands."

It was relief. I couldn't help thinking: "was that really all?", but I didn't say it out loud. It was more or less what Mr Zimmermann had told me would happen. Still, in the back of my mind, I wondered what would come next. 



To be continued. 
  


You can find more stories written by me at:
http://www.asstr.org/~henlar/ 
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/henlar

      
