She was reached by Gunther while quickly descending the stairs of the university building, her large breasts jerking at each step under the blouse. Lisa slammed the car door that awaited them, followed by man.
They returned to Berlin in a complete silence, even though the tension emanating Lisa's body was quite tangible: the girl seemed about to burst at any moment: in a couple of occasions she turned to Gunther, as to start a conversation, and then she turned back to stare straight ahead. In her mind she coudn’t accept that this could not happen.
Only when they were in the elevator of the hotel, alone, she exclaimed: "And you think I should have someone impregnating me like a cow to have a breast like that? Tomorrow I’ll go back to Ibiza, fuck Bohm and DDR!"
She went in her suite, isolated from everyone and ordered the room service. That was what she was usually doing when travelling around the world: she was taking possession of the hotel rooms, almost trying to rape them in their prosy order. Clothes and shoes scattered everywhere, newspapers, scraps of food and bottles of beer. Opened bags on the sofas, socks and bras coming out.
She took a long shower, increased accurately as every evening and put on a men’s pajama of burgundy silk. Then she felt on the bed, the remote control in her hand, while with the other one she was rummaging in some cartons of Japanese food placed in a tray, on the blankets.
As always in these cases, Lisa had taken two tablets of Zolof and the relaxing effect suddenly arrived. In the twilight, broken by the glow of the television screen without any sound, she could not take off from her mind those pictures of Greta she had seen in the afternoon.
She wondered where she was, at that precise moment, that girl of the seventies, that German DDR girl.
The next morning Gunther gently knocked on her door. He found her still lying on the bed, the television on.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Like an angel" - Lisa said, getting up and stretching, her arms stretched upward, the enormous breasts thrust forward. Her mood had returned to its usual and after the breakfast they had in the living room of the suite, she willingly agreed, when Gunther suggested to take a ride to Berlin.
They left the garage in a nice sunny day. The black car turned into Potsdamer Strasse, crossed the staid old neighborhoods and the early nineteenth century buildings, and soon came out from the chaos of the town.
"Where are we going?" Asked Lisa.
"I want you to see something. It’s a surprise. "
They were now out of the city and headed toward the area at the west of Potsdam, where many Berliners have their holiday houses, situated in the woods or on the shores of the lake. They took a side road, gently rising on a hill: all of of a sudden a big open gate, from which it started a tree-lined avenue. They shortly arrived at the sight of a magnificent country house, the walls of warm amber stone, the large white windows. The car stopped in the clearing gravel.
"So, what do you say about it?" Said Gunther.
"It's... is it yours?"
"Now yes, it is: I bought it a few months ago. The house where I was born and raised, before leaving the East Germany " - Gunther said with a wave of pride, as of someone who laboriously had reappropriated of his past life, and with it his whole memory.
"It 'wonderful, really!"
He opened the door and began to walk the empty halls, illuminated by the slanting rays of sunlight , coming in through the windows. It was a luxurious country residence house of the eighteen century, the oak floors and the walls covered in fabric. Lounges, kitchens, rooms for servants, bedrooms: everywhere furniture covered with white clothes: Gunther was walking purposefully through the corridors. He reached a door, at the end of one of these, unlike the other, locked.
The man pulled out a keychain from his pocket and opened it. They entered.
It was the old greenhouse, a large hall with a partly glazed roof, twenty-five meters long and wide just under a half. The contrast with the rest of the place was immediately obvious; here everything was neat and ordered: rows of shelves, work benches, cabinets, three work stations with videos and computers. A laboratory for clinical analysis, Lisa thought. Then she inevitably turned her mind to Greta, and to all what they had seen and heard the previous day.
Gunther seemed to read her mind, for he said: "Everything you have heard yesterday from my friend Hans I knew it a long ago, but I wanted you to have the direct proof. What he has done in the past is amazing, but it was precisely the late seventies, so I got the idea a few months ago, with the proceeds of my business, to finance the continuation of his research. "
"Gunther," - said the girl - "the experience of yesterday was something extraordinary: last night I could not sleep thinking it over, and when I did, I dreamed of having gigantic breasts, like that girl, and to move almost supporting them with my hands among dozens of people who watched me passing by in adoration. And not just men: women, dozens of women at my feet with their eyes fixed on my huge tits. "
Gunther looked into her eyes. "I had an orgasm in my sleep, as it didn’t happen since I was fifteen."
"Well, in these thirty years science has made great strides, so I hope that our professor could do something even for you."
"Even for me?" She said, noting the first word of the sentence.
"He asked me, just to start the experiments, to find a volunteer willing to 'sacrifice' her body to science, and you are too valuable to risk your modeling career."
"What do you mean by sacrifice?"
"Simply prepared to undergo testing: nothing particularly dangerous."
"If I know you a little bit, I suppose you already found the volunteer ..."
"We’ll meet her today, in the afternoon. Her name is Milena ... "
They ate in an old tavern on the way back to Berlin, and Gunther seemed to taste every moment of that day with great satisfaction. Fortunately they arrived late at the place, a few tables, no diners. For Lisa it was pretty much the standard to be heavily stared in public places, or even to be the object of heavier attentions, but in that particular day it seemed that everything was perfect.
Lisa also was experiencing this new adventure in a state of childlike excitement. She imagined, in her fantasies to live in her real life what he had experienced in her dream: to get expecially excited for the veneration of men and women at her body.
They took the road again after having lunch: this time they headed north of Berlin, in a working class neighborhood born in the days of Communist Germany. Time had also given dignity to these massive buildings full of popular apartments: the streets were clean, the trees interspersed with roads and sidewalks.
"It must be here," said Gunther, motioning the driver to stop. They got out and walked toward a building: climbed the stairs and began to go through the outside gallery, on which it opened the entrances of the apartments. They rang the bell: from the inside they heard a a scuffle and, after a few seconds, the door opened slowly. It appeared a sleepy-looking woman: she must have just risen from the bed. She was slightly higher than Lisa, even if with high heels the girl overlooked her richly: her face was kind, with large black eyes and full lips, but she was showing the signs of an obvious fatigue; tousled hair, a hint of circles. She brightened when she saw Gunther, jumping at his neck.
"Hellooo!" The reaction seemed sincere and embarrassed the man.
"And you must be .... Lisa" she said smiling. The gaze fell inevitably on the big breasts barely contained from a white shirt under a denim jacket. "My God, the great Lisa. You know, from life you you are so much more .... more!" She accompanied this speech with a gesture of her open hands, palms upward. Lisa, as usual, returned the glance to her breasts and merely said a cold hello. No more than a double B. She thought in her mind that it would take a miracle to make it acceptable, not just Professor Bohm.
They entered a room where it seemed a war had taken place, with cardboard boxes stacked, as in the foresight of an imminent move.
"You know, your bid has arrived just in time: that bastard, Helmut, after the birth of the child, has disappeared, leaving a lot of debt: and with a little baby in our ambience it’s not easy to work ..."
Gunther turned to Lisa: "Milena has worked with me in Hamburg for a long time and we've known each other for almost ten years." Then, speaking at their guest: "I’m the one who thanks you for having accepted, and I’m happy to give you an help if needed. I have also brought a cash advance, in case you’d need something."
He pulled out from his coat a roll of bills: he counted ten thousand euros, placing them on the table in front of her.
"Gunther, you should not have ..." and then she turned to Lisa: "He’s always been so good with us girls!"
"Oh, come on! – said Gunther - tell me Milena: with the baby, is it all right?"
"Yes, yes, I have already made arrangements with my sister, she will take him to Leipzig on Friday and he will remain there for some time. Incidentally this weaning is killing me. He’s always attached to my tits..."
In that moment they heard the cries of the baby coming from the next room, shy at first, then louder and louder. Lisa noticed that the blouse of Milena, in correspondence of her nipples, got almost instantly wet.
"Excuse me - she said, embarrassed - but I can not keep him quiet without a boob in his mouth."
Gunther jumped up, followed by Lisa. "Don’t worry, we leave you with your duty. See you then, at the villa in Potsdam on Sunday evening. "
They left quickly, descending the stairs and entering the car waiting for them.
"Gunther," - began Lisa.
"Yes?"
"Could you explain to me how you plan to get a model out of that woman, with that barely watchable boobs? Incidentally, she has at least thirty-five years!"
The man looked at her with a smile. "Patience, be patient andyou’ll see ..."
They returned to Berlin in a complete silence, even though the tension emanating Lisa's body was quite tangible: the girl seemed about to burst at any moment: in a couple of occasions she turned to Gunther, as to start a conversation, and then she turned back to stare straight ahead. In her mind she coudn’t accept that this could not happen.
Only when they were in the elevator of the hotel, alone, she exclaimed: "And you think I should have someone impregnating me like a cow to have a breast like that? Tomorrow I’ll go back to Ibiza, fuck Bohm and DDR!"
She went in her suite, isolated from everyone and ordered the room service. That was what she was usually doing when travelling around the world: she was taking possession of the hotel rooms, almost trying to rape them in their prosy order. Clothes and shoes scattered everywhere, newspapers, scraps of food and bottles of beer. Opened bags on the sofas, socks and bras coming out.
She took a long shower, increased accurately as every evening and put on a men’s pajama of burgundy silk. Then she felt on the bed, the remote control in her hand, while with the other one she was rummaging in some cartons of Japanese food placed in a tray, on the blankets.
As always in these cases, Lisa had taken two tablets of Zolof and the relaxing effect suddenly arrived. In the twilight, broken by the glow of the television screen without any sound, she could not take off from her mind those pictures of Greta she had seen in the afternoon.
She wondered where she was, at that precise moment, that girl of the seventies, that German DDR girl.
The next morning Gunther gently knocked on her door. He found her still lying on the bed, the television on.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Like an angel" - Lisa said, getting up and stretching, her arms stretched upward, the enormous breasts thrust forward. Her mood had returned to its usual and after the breakfast they had in the living room of the suite, she willingly agreed, when Gunther suggested to take a ride to Berlin.
They left the garage in a nice sunny day. The black car turned into Potsdamer Strasse, crossed the staid old neighborhoods and the early nineteenth century buildings, and soon came out from the chaos of the town.
"Where are we going?" Asked Lisa.
"I want you to see something. It’s a surprise. "
They were now out of the city and headed toward the area at the west of Potsdam, where many Berliners have their holiday houses, situated in the woods or on the shores of the lake. They took a side road, gently rising on a hill: all of of a sudden a big open gate, from which it started a tree-lined avenue. They shortly arrived at the sight of a magnificent country house, the walls of warm amber stone, the large white windows. The car stopped in the clearing gravel.
"So, what do you say about it?" Said Gunther.
"It's... is it yours?"
"Now yes, it is: I bought it a few months ago. The house where I was born and raised, before leaving the East Germany " - Gunther said with a wave of pride, as of someone who laboriously had reappropriated of his past life, and with it his whole memory.
"It 'wonderful, really!"
He opened the door and began to walk the empty halls, illuminated by the slanting rays of sunlight , coming in through the windows. It was a luxurious country residence house of the eighteen century, the oak floors and the walls covered in fabric. Lounges, kitchens, rooms for servants, bedrooms: everywhere furniture covered with white clothes: Gunther was walking purposefully through the corridors. He reached a door, at the end of one of these, unlike the other, locked.
The man pulled out a keychain from his pocket and opened it. They entered.
It was the old greenhouse, a large hall with a partly glazed roof, twenty-five meters long and wide just under a half. The contrast with the rest of the place was immediately obvious; here everything was neat and ordered: rows of shelves, work benches, cabinets, three work stations with videos and computers. A laboratory for clinical analysis, Lisa thought. Then she inevitably turned her mind to Greta, and to all what they had seen and heard the previous day.
Gunther seemed to read her mind, for he said: "Everything you have heard yesterday from my friend Hans I knew it a long ago, but I wanted you to have the direct proof. What he has done in the past is amazing, but it was precisely the late seventies, so I got the idea a few months ago, with the proceeds of my business, to finance the continuation of his research. "
"Gunther," - said the girl - "the experience of yesterday was something extraordinary: last night I could not sleep thinking it over, and when I did, I dreamed of having gigantic breasts, like that girl, and to move almost supporting them with my hands among dozens of people who watched me passing by in adoration. And not just men: women, dozens of women at my feet with their eyes fixed on my huge tits. "
Gunther looked into her eyes. "I had an orgasm in my sleep, as it didn’t happen since I was fifteen."
"Well, in these thirty years science has made great strides, so I hope that our professor could do something even for you."
"Even for me?" She said, noting the first word of the sentence.
"He asked me, just to start the experiments, to find a volunteer willing to 'sacrifice' her body to science, and you are too valuable to risk your modeling career."
"What do you mean by sacrifice?"
"Simply prepared to undergo testing: nothing particularly dangerous."
"If I know you a little bit, I suppose you already found the volunteer ..."
"We’ll meet her today, in the afternoon. Her name is Milena ... "
They ate in an old tavern on the way back to Berlin, and Gunther seemed to taste every moment of that day with great satisfaction. Fortunately they arrived late at the place, a few tables, no diners. For Lisa it was pretty much the standard to be heavily stared in public places, or even to be the object of heavier attentions, but in that particular day it seemed that everything was perfect.
Lisa also was experiencing this new adventure in a state of childlike excitement. She imagined, in her fantasies to live in her real life what he had experienced in her dream: to get expecially excited for the veneration of men and women at her body.
They took the road again after having lunch: this time they headed north of Berlin, in a working class neighborhood born in the days of Communist Germany. Time had also given dignity to these massive buildings full of popular apartments: the streets were clean, the trees interspersed with roads and sidewalks.
"It must be here," said Gunther, motioning the driver to stop. They got out and walked toward a building: climbed the stairs and began to go through the outside gallery, on which it opened the entrances of the apartments. They rang the bell: from the inside they heard a a scuffle and, after a few seconds, the door opened slowly. It appeared a sleepy-looking woman: she must have just risen from the bed. She was slightly higher than Lisa, even if with high heels the girl overlooked her richly: her face was kind, with large black eyes and full lips, but she was showing the signs of an obvious fatigue; tousled hair, a hint of circles. She brightened when she saw Gunther, jumping at his neck.
"Hellooo!" The reaction seemed sincere and embarrassed the man.
"And you must be .... Lisa" she said smiling. The gaze fell inevitably on the big breasts barely contained from a white shirt under a denim jacket. "My God, the great Lisa. You know, from life you you are so much more .... more!" She accompanied this speech with a gesture of her open hands, palms upward. Lisa, as usual, returned the glance to her breasts and merely said a cold hello. No more than a double B. She thought in her mind that it would take a miracle to make it acceptable, not just Professor Bohm.
They entered a room where it seemed a war had taken place, with cardboard boxes stacked, as in the foresight of an imminent move.
"You know, your bid has arrived just in time: that bastard, Helmut, after the birth of the child, has disappeared, leaving a lot of debt: and with a little baby in our ambience it’s not easy to work ..."
Gunther turned to Lisa: "Milena has worked with me in Hamburg for a long time and we've known each other for almost ten years." Then, speaking at their guest: "I’m the one who thanks you for having accepted, and I’m happy to give you an help if needed. I have also brought a cash advance, in case you’d need something."
He pulled out from his coat a roll of bills: he counted ten thousand euros, placing them on the table in front of her.
"Gunther, you should not have ..." and then she turned to Lisa: "He’s always been so good with us girls!"
"Oh, come on! – said Gunther - tell me Milena: with the baby, is it all right?"
"Yes, yes, I have already made arrangements with my sister, she will take him to Leipzig on Friday and he will remain there for some time. Incidentally this weaning is killing me. He’s always attached to my tits..."
In that moment they heard the cries of the baby coming from the next room, shy at first, then louder and louder. Lisa noticed that the blouse of Milena, in correspondence of her nipples, got almost instantly wet.
"Excuse me - she said, embarrassed - but I can not keep him quiet without a boob in his mouth."
Gunther jumped up, followed by Lisa. "Don’t worry, we leave you with your duty. See you then, at the villa in Potsdam on Sunday evening. "
They left quickly, descending the stairs and entering the car waiting for them.
"Gunther," - began Lisa.
"Yes?"
"Could you explain to me how you plan to get a model out of that woman, with that barely watchable boobs? Incidentally, she has at least thirty-five years!"
The man looked at her with a smile. "Patience, be patient andyou’ll see ..."
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento