Ken James Fiction
Breaking up with a bad boyfriend.
"Sorry Fräulein Pfennig," the bartender said. "Klaus has already gone home."
Gretchen thanked the bartender and left. She'd hoped to catch Klaus at work. He was the brewmaster for the Neu Bavaria Brewery, the brewpub on Main Street in Fredericksburg.
It was a short drive to Klaus' little house on Creek Street. She was almost sorry to see his pickup in the driveway. Part of her wanted to drive away, but that would just postpone the inevitable explosion.
He must have heard her pull up, because the porch light went on as she was getting out of the car.
The front door opened before she could knock. "Good evening, Darling," he said in German. Klaus insisted on German when they were together. It was pretentious and old-fashioned. Most people in Fredericksburg didn't speak German any more, but she and Klaus were from old families and had learned their archaic Texas German from their parents and grandparents. She'd taken modern German in school, along with Spanish.
"Hello Klaus," she answered in English. "This has to end."
"Come inside and we'll talk." His German was harsh and he had whisky on his breath.
"Do you want a drink?" Klaus walked through the small living room to the kitchen and took a heavy glass tumbler out of a cabinet.
"Yes. But beer. Not whiskey."
"Was ist das?"
Gretchen sighed and repeated it in German. Klaus was such a prick—about German and most everything else.
He poured her a beer and splashed Jim Beam into a broad tumbler for himself. "Prost." He drank the whisky in one gulp and reached for the bottle.
"Klaus, you drink too much." She took a sip of beer and set her glass on the counter.
"Is that why you came?" He lifted the glass, then lowered it again without drinking. "To lecture me about my drinking?"
"No, Klaus. I came to tell you I can't take it any more. Not the drinking, or the jealousy, or the other women—"
"Lies! There are no other women. It is you alone I love."
"Klaus, I saw you in the back room with that waitress."
"Just a harmless kiss—"
"She had her hand in your pants. And Elise—"
"She means nothing to me."
"And what am I? A convenient piece of ass who'll speak German for you?"
"You are everything to me." He looked down at the glass in his hand, then dumped the whisky in the sink. "That's not important to me." He set the glass down and took a step toward her. "The women are in the past."
"You always make the promises." Gretchen backed away until she bumped into the counter. "Nothing ever changes."
"But—" He moved closer.
She held out her hand, stopping him at arm's length. "Klaus, I didn't come here to argue."
"I know why you came here." He pushed her arm aside, stepped forward, and kissed her full on the lips. She tried to resist but . . . damn, the man knew how to kiss, with the right tongue, the right body contact, the right touch . . .
"Klaus, stop it!" She pushed him away roughly and started for the door to the living room.
He blocked her. "No. Don't leave so soon." He hesitated, then added "Please."
Gretchen glanced at the wood knife block on the counter. They were fine German-made knives with super-sharp blades, ranging in size from a tiny paring knife to a big butcher knife. She looked back at Klaus, glaring. "Get out of the way. You will not make me your prisoner."
Klaus stepped away from the door. "I'm sorry. You can leave whenever you like. But I beg you to stay."
"I'll stay long enough to say this. It's over between us. The drinking, the women, the insane jealousy, all of it . . . you have a sickness in your soul. I can't cure it and I won't stay and let it tear me apart."
"It's that man," Klaus said. "The Norwegian-looking guy at the pool hall. I saw the way you were looking at him. Now, he's fucking you so hard you can't think straight."
"Oh Klaus. Again with the jealousy. Yes, I'm sleeping with Andy. He's sweet and tender. Not like you."
"There's nobody like me." He backed Gretchen against the counter and slid a hand between her thighs. She wished she'd driven the twenty miles to her parents' ranch and changed into blue jeans before coming to see him. "Nobody for you is nearly as good as I am." He slid his finger up and down her pussy slit through her rapidly-moistening panties.
"Klaus, no!" She hated the way he could ignite an irresistible fire in her body. "Please stop. Now."
"Stop?" He pushed her panties aside and slid his index finger into her pussy, curling it to rub that spot while gently rubbing her clit with his thumb. "That's not what you really want."
"Enough Klaus. The sex is good, but—"
"Just good?" He tore a button lose while he unbuttoned her business casual blouse, then pulled her bra down, exposing her big breasts. "Ha! Your nipples hard already are."
"Gott, Klaus! You know I don't want—"
"I know what you do want." He unfastened her long dark skirt and it fell around her ankles. "You can't deny it."
He pulled her panties down, then turned her around and bent her over the counter. "Take your panties off and open your legs. Otherwise, you're getting it up your ass."
If she went along, he'd fuck her and come, then it'd be over and she could go. "All right, Klaus." She kicked her office shoes off, then stepped out of the panties. "Have your way. But no Arsch ficken."
"Good girl!" Klaus patted her ass, then bent her over the counter with her legs spread. "We'll save your asshole for another time." He slid a finger into her pussy. "By Jesus! Your cunt is ready for my big hard Bavarian cock."
"Klaus, you're a bastard!"
He laughed. "Your bastard, my love." She heard him unfasten his belt and unzip his jeans. "The bastard who fucks your hot tight cunt." He took her with one rough thrust. "And leaves you screaming for more."
Klaus gripped Gretchen's hips and fucked her with long steady strokes. She thrust back, taking his big stiff Teutonic cock deep into her pussy. "Your body tells the truth, my love," Klaus gasped. "But I want to hear you say it. Say it now!"
"Oh Gott, Klaus." She couldn't hold back. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"
"Yes, my love." He fucked her violently, drawing back and then slamming home.
She kneaded her breasts and rolled her swollen nipples between her thumbs and index fingers as he pounded her pussy, pushing her closer to orgasm with each hammer blow. "Oh God! Oh God!" she cried, bucking and shaking as she came.
Gretchen's climax ran its course and she collapsed onto the counter with her face buried in her arms. Her ragged breathing and racing heart gradually returned to normal. She felt the warmth and contentment that always followed an intense orgasm, mixed with seething anger. Verdammt! The Arschloch had done it again. Him and her treacherous body.
Klaus hadn't come. He was still fucking her slowly. "No, darling. I didn't shoot. But I will."
"How?" She looked at him over her shoulder. "Are you going to take me to bed?"
"No." He angled his stiff shaft to rub the top of her pussy mouth, stimulating her clit. "This is where I will have you."
"What are you going to do?"
"Relax, my love. You're going to enjoy this." He took a butter dish out of a cabinet over the counter. "So am I."
"Nein!" she gasped. "Not that."
"Yes, darling. Your time has come." He continued fucking her slowly while rubbing a greasy finger over her asshole, coating it with butter. "It won't hurt. I promise."
"Another of your gottverdammt promises. Fucker!"
"Fucker indeed!" He laughed and pressed a butter-covered finger into her tight hole. It felt weird, but didn't hurt. Actually, it felt kind of good. "I'll fuck you like never before."
"No," she moaned as the warmth from her ass spread through her body. "Please stop."
"You don't mean that." He pulled his finger out, coated it with more butter, and pushed it back up her butt, working it in and out while fucking her pussy with long slow strokes. "You want this. You shall have it."
"No!" It didn't sound convincing, even to her. He ignored her protest and added a second finger, crossed with the first, twisting the pair while finger-fucking her asshole. She moaned and rocked her hips, pushing her butt back to meet his sliding fingers while clamping her pussy muscles around his swollen pole.
"You're ready." Klaus pulled his cock and fingers out of Gretchen's pussy and ass, leaving her feeling empty. She held still, waiting. After a long moment, she looked over her shoulder and saw him smearing butter on his rigid pole.
"Please Klaus," she whispered. "Don't do this."
"Relax my love. You'll enjoy this as much as I will." He pressed his wide cock-head into her little puckered hole, gradually stretching it open. It hurt, a little, but also left her burning for more.
When Klaus pushed in too fast, Gretchen screamed and tried to jerk away. He caught her hips to hold her in place, then drew back slightly. "Sorry love. I'll be more careful." He reached around her body and found her clit.
"God." She pushed her butt back onto his hard cock as he rubbed her clit. "That's good."
"It gets better." Desire fought with pain as the pressure on her asshole increased steadily.
Suddenly, her anal muscles relaxed and his stiff cock slid up her ass, stopping with his balls pressed against her butt cheeks.
"Oh my God," Gretchen whispered. She'd never felt anything as exciting at Klaus' long thick pole stretching and filling her asshole. It was even more intimate than a cock in her pussy and its forbidden nature gave it an extra spice.
"You like it." Klaus slipped his finger into her pussy. "Your cunt is wetter than ever before." He moved his finger, slick with her juices, back to her clit and rubbed it.
"Oh yes." She hated Klaus for bringing this joy to her. He'd stolen that from Andy. "Please fuck me. Fuck my ass."
"You sexy wench!" The juices on Klaus' finger had dried and his touch on her clit was too rough. She pushed his hand away, covered her crotch with the palm of her hand, and slipped her middle finger into her pussy.
Klaus gripped Gretchen's hips and slowly withdrew his cock, leaving a painfully empty feeling. He stopped with his flaring cock-head just inside her anal ring, then pushed back into her depths, equally slowly.
"My God, Klaus," she whispered after a few more slow thrusts. "This is so good." She tightened her anal muscles, increasing the pressure on his slowly-sliding rod. "So different from my pussy. So . . . intense."
"I knew you'd like it." He fucked her a little faster. "All women like—"
"Don't speak of other women," Gretchen snapped. "Just fuck my ass. Good and hard."
"Yes, my love." He pulled completely out, then worked his cock-head in and out of her tight anal ring.
"Oh God, that's good!" she gasped. "But don't call me 'your love.' Call me 'bitch' or 'whore' or 'cunt.' Whatever I really am to you."
"But my love—"
"Shut up and fuck my ass. Don't hold back. Use me the way you really want. Arschloch!"
"Very well," Klaus hissed. "Bitch!" He pulled all the way out, then drove his rod through her anal ring and into her depths, slamming his pelvis into her buttocks and sending her face-first into the counter. She caught herself with her free hand just before her nose hit the German tile surface. "Like that . . . bitch? Is that the way you want it?"
"Please yourself." She glanced at the knife block. "Give it to me rough. I can take it."
He fucked her hard and fast, pulling almost out and then ramming home. It was rough, but not as violent as the thrust that had almost knocked her down. The first hammer blows sort of hurt, but not really. Then, it just felt good. Better than anything before. She fingered her pussy and rubbed her clit with one hand while supporting her upper body with the other, climbing toward an intense climax.
Klaus grunted as he slammed home. A hard hot jet of cum splashed her anal walls. He drew back and then rammed her again, firing another shot. She came violently as he pounded her ass, squirting more cum with each rough thrust.
He finally stopped moving. Gretchen held still with her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his spent cock buried deep in her ass.
Klaus pulled out. "It was good for you. I can tell." He patted her ass, then pulled his jeans up and closed himself in the bathroom.
Gretchen stayed bent over the counter, contemplating the knife block, until the shower started running. Suddenly, she thought of Psycho and laughed.
She straightened up and took a few steps. Her butt felt funny but her legs were working all right. She reached for a paper towel, then changed her mind and used the dish towel to wipe the butter off her butt and hip.
* * *
It was after ten when she got to her parents' ranch, twenty miles outside of Fredericksburg. Mom liked to get up before dawn to tend her vegetable garden while it was still cool, so she'd already gone to bed. Dad was the county agent for Gillespie County and this was the hour he reserved for Skype discussions with the local farmers and ranchers.
Gretchen was glad she didn't have to face them, with her tangled hair and disheveled clothes. She took a long hot shower, then dried her hair and went to bed.
Her warring emotions kept her awake for a long time. She'd never had a more intense climax . . . or been so brutally used. She'd loved and hated it at the same time. What did that make her?
And were all men as bad as Klaus, when they took their masks off?