The man and the young woman were holding hands as they were leisurely walking to the baggage claim area. Many eyes followed them, which was understandable. The man was tall and wide shouldered with just a hint of a distant black relative in his face. Most people would assume him to be about 45 years old, and they would be just one year off. His name was George.
The lady at his side could almost, but not quite, be called petite. She was slim and had the proud bearing of a beauty who is used to admiring glances wherever she went. And a most striking beauty she was, her glossy black hair framing an exotic face with a perpetual slight smile. Her coal black eyes had a trace of almond shape and always seemed to be twinkling in amusement.
When her husband had found her in Hawaii she had told him laughingly that she represented all the immigrants that had come to the Islands in the early days. There was a mix of Hawaiian, Portuguese, Chinese, and even a bit of Dutch coursing through her veins.
Their three-week vacation, I will call it that for the lack of a better word, was at its end. She had taken him along the 'Romantic Street' of Germany, strolling through some of these well preserved Middle Age towns. They had even made a long circle walk along the inside of the old wall that had encircled and protected Rothenburg. In the Plaza in front of the Cathedral in Cologne he had marveled at the imposing structure with its skyward stretching twin towers. In Hamburg they ventured to St. Pauli, the official red light district of this harbor city.
They had taken a boat ride on the Rhine river as well as on the Moselle. There they had visited several wineries to sample the superb wines of the region. On their drive through the Black Forest they had stopped to watch wood carvers producing the much coveted Black Forest Cuckoo clock. An exceptional beautiful clock had struck George's fancy and he bought it as a gift for a special friend he explained to the English speaking proprietor of the business. "I owe this man more than he will ever know," George added. "Through his unselfish altruism he had made our trip to Germany a reality."
Jessica had lived in Germany for a number of years after we married and before I emigrated to the US. She loved the old country. Showing it had given her immense pleasure, and he in turn thoroughly enjoyed having a knowledgeable guide. Having a stunning young lady at his side wherever they went was an added bonus.
As they were walking through the airport he turned to her, bent his head to bring his mouth close to her ear, and whispered: "I don't know how I can ever thank you two people enough. You two have filled me with joy and happiness as I did never believe existed."
Oblivious to the crowd milling around them they embraced and kissed, still holding on to each other a few more seconds after they broke their kiss.
An older couple seated in the waiting lounge of Gate 38 had watched with a knowing smile. After George released his companion, the wife turned to her husband to remark that this must surely be a couple on their honeymoon, in love to the gills.
She was wrong on all counts. They were not on their honeymoon. They were not husband and wife, and they were not in love with each other. The old couple would have been appalled and shocked had they known the truth.
The truth was that George was Jessica's pimp. She worked for him as a call girl and prostitute. Even the name Jessica was not her real name, it was her professional name she had selected for herself. Her real name was Liolani. And she was married. She also was madly in love with her husband, - and he in turn was deeply in love with his wife. Without his unwavering love this unique situation could not have come about. You should know this much about the players; now let me tell my story.
After Liolani had started working for George they eventually developed a fondness for each other to the point where George would refer to Jessica as his girlfriend. It was inevitable that I eventually would find out about my wife's secret. But being a stout believer that a woman should have the right to shape her own life to her liking, I did not intervene. In fact, my sex life had improved. Liolani appeared hornier more often than ever after she had started working for George.
On the fateful evening when I discovered that my wife was working as a prostitute, I happened to sit next to her pimp at the bar and developed a friendship with him. His name was George, and not knowing I was Jessica's husband, he spilled many details. I heard about George having won a vacation for two to Europe, how much he wanted to take his girlfriend along, and the quandary of getting Jessica's husband to give his approval. It would mean Jessica's other life to be divulged.
After I shook their little world by revealing my knowledge of that world, I explained my reason for encouraging Liolani to go on this 'vacation'. If a man truly loves his wife he should consider her happiness first. And when she is happy it stands to reason he would be also. And so George called me the most altruistic man he had ever met, and our friendship deepened.
The emotions therefore ran high as we three met at the baggage claim carousel. Liolani hugged me and kissed me with an intensity I had never encountered before. George gave me a bear hug and a peck on my cheek. Jessica and George could hardly contain themselves to share their experiences with me, who in turn could hardly wait to hear about their 'vacation'.
A welcome home dinner was waiting at my home and two chilled bottles of Moselle Spaetlese magically appeared. It was Samantha, George's nineteen-year old niece who surprised us with Beef Stroganoff, boiled parsley potatoes, cauliflower in a white cream sauce, plus some Chinese lichees for dessert. Samantha was immensely proud of herself, and rightfully so, that everything had come together perfectly. Her Beef Stroganoff was excellent. It was her first Stroganoff and I was impressed again by this young lady. Even her choice of wine impressed me. She obviously had listened when I had been talking about wines in general and German wines in particular.
The four of us retired to the living room after dinner for a glass of after dinner Tawny Port. It was story telling time. Liolani, ever the bubbly conversationalist raced to the front of the conversation with the usual preliminaries, then stopped abruptly and urged George forward, claiming that it was his story, and therefore his to tell. He rendered a day by day account, starting with day one.
"That evening we were absolutely bushed. We fell into bed utterly exhausted, we slept like logs," he claimed. This was a huge understatement. Sure it was true that they were exhausted, and also true that they fell into bed, and also true that they slept like logs.
But knowing my wife, and knowing George, and knowing how they related to each other, my mind had no trouble filling in the blanks between 'fell into bed' and 'slept like logs'.
The scene flashed before my eyes at once and I saw Jessica and George in a tight embrace that said: FINALLY ALONE. They kissed with tongues outdoing each other as to who could do better. There was no time to gently undress each other. Instead of slow kisses and nibbles along her throat and down the valley between her breasts his mouth hurried to reach her nipple. His tongue lashed out to swipe across it again and again until it was almost painfully hard.
Only then did George open his lips to engulf as much as he could of her pert tit. His right hand had wandered along her spine and finally came to rest on her light ass. Now he could pull her even closer. She wiggled vigorously in an attempt to assist him in this venture. But soon George was eager to undress Jessica and broke the embrace. There was not much to undress. He told her to lift her arms, grabbed the hem of her short dress and with one experienced motion it went up over her head and then landed next to the bed.
Now Jessica went to work. She opened his belt buckle, zipped down his trouser fly and unceremoniously pushed down his pants. She was in a hurry to get at the portion of him with which she had fallen in love. She was so eager that her hands started shaking as she put her thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down to his ankles.
She had hardly freed her object of admiration when she went down on her knees, grabbed his dick in her small hands and guided it to her waiting lips. A short kiss on the tip and then it disappeared in her mouth. She meta morphed into a slut and a whore at that moment and used every trick at her command to hurry him into coming in her mouth. She wanted the edge of his excitement blunted to make him last longer when he finally penetrated her.
After she had succeeded to bring him off he sat down at the edge of the bed to untie his shoes and kick them off. His socks followed the shoes. Now he could finally rid himself of the last two hurdles, his pants and his shorts. By this time he was ready again. His dick was about average size, except wider than most, a feature Jessica cherished, it made her feel filled without stretching. She wanted every pore of her vagina have contact with him.
There was no tender foreplay today, they had no time for preliminaries and he started hammering her as soon as he had entered her fully. Her legs came up and wrapped themselves around his waist as if she was trying to get even more of him into her. Her mewls quickly gave way to shrieks. She was possessed with only one thought, to feel him deep inside her. She bucked under him, trying to meet his thrusts until she finally arched her back and exploded with loud cries of ecstasy. He lasted just long enough to bring her to a second ear shattering climax.
They lay next to each other, holding hands, trying to get their breathing back to normal. After a few minutes George had recovered enough to thank her with little tender kisses all over her body, with caresses in those places that gave her the most enjoyment. His finger tips traced curves and circles on her cheeks, her neck, and her breasts. Then, after a final kiss for the night they drifted off into a deep and well deserved sleep.
My little excursion did not last long; I met up with the two travelers again as George was telling about visiting the Heidelberg castle, about the old Nepomuk bridge.