hardworking man could relax after an exhausting piece of business. He sat down in one of the armchairs, exhaling a sigh of deep content, stretched out his legs, and closed his eyes for a moment.
Helga had just taken the edge off his rut by sucking him off, the amusing little sow! It had been the first time she'd ever done that, and she'd said as much. Well, perhaps she had other virginities to offer. There was still the little matter of that dainty pink hole between the cheeks of her big sweet Arsch. And he was sure that the Professor had never tried to put his prick between the valley of those juicy big titties. To hold them in his hands and squeeze them together against his own ramrod and to rub it back and forth would be almost as good as having it inside her kootzele.
He unbuttoned his military tunic, patted his belly. Then he frowned. He was going to have to do something about that. A little too much weight in the gut. That was surprising, considering how much activity he had down in that basement interrogation room. You would think that a good workout such as he'd just had with Frau Nordheim would have taken at least a couple of pounds off his middle. But these days there wasn't time to consider one's personal vanities. The war was critical now. Traitors and saboteurs, all people who weren't loyal to the Leader, must be found out and punished and eliminated. That was the only way to victory.
There was a respectful knock at the door, and he called out, “Herein!” And the door opened and it was his two “boys.” He felt most paternal towards them, though there really wasn't that much difference in age. He himself was in his early forties, and if he could find out who was responsible for that accursed paper, he could very easily become a general. “Now that's very thoughtful, boys,” he beamed. Willi and Manfred each carried a tray, and his eyes lighted up when he perceived what they had coaxed out of Frau Schneider. Some ham hocks, big mugs of scalding-hot coffee, a good-sized chunk of liverwurst, and several pieces of Apfel-strudel.
His two subordinates fawningly served him, let him take his choice, but he was in a generous mood and left them enough tidbits. They'd been very useful just now, and they were going to be still more useful in getting the truth out of that timid, shy bitch downstairs in a little while.
“Do you think she might be pissing again, Willi?” he chuckled as he daintily forked a bit of ham hock, put it into his mouth and luxuriously savored it.
“I wouldn't be surprised at all, Mein Oberst. I'd say she was ready to give out with just about everything,” the beetle-browed private grinned. He looked back at his companion with a smile. No two ways about it, if every officer in the Third Reich was as understanding and as man to man with you as the Herr Oberst, those verdammte Allies would have been wiped out long before this!
He glanced at his wrist watch. “We'll give our little friend another quarter of an hour. It's good to get one's second wind when one is dealing with a difficult and obstinate patient,” he explained. They grinned and nodded. Then suddenly there was a knock at the door. He frowned, set his plate down on a little tabouret beside his chair, and rose to his feet with a grimace of annoyance. He jerked his thumb at the door, and Willie Murtens sprang to his feet and hurried to open it.
It was the sergeant who had shot Max Dornburg. “Respectfully begging your pardon, Herr Oberst,” the Sergeant said as the portly figure of the Gestapo chief confronted him, “But Herrn Lukas and Witte and myself have just brought in three students, all from that Professor Nordheim's class. We thought you might want to have a go at them, sir. We think it might have something to do with the Till Eulenspiegel business.”
“Excellent, Sergeant Katzmire! Tell you what. You said three?”
“Jawohl, mein Oberst.”
“Male or female?”
“Two girls, mein Herr, and a fellow. There
Helga had just taken the edge off his rut by sucking him off, the amusing little sow! It had been the first time she'd ever done that, and she'd said as much. Well, perhaps she had other virginities to offer. There was still the little matter of that dainty pink hole between the cheeks of her big sweet Arsch. And he was sure that the Professor had never tried to put his prick between the valley of those juicy big titties. To hold them in his hands and squeeze them together against his own ramrod and to rub it back and forth would be almost as good as having it inside her kootzele.
He unbuttoned his military tunic, patted his belly. Then he frowned. He was going to have to do something about that. A little too much weight in the gut. That was surprising, considering how much activity he had down in that basement interrogation room. You would think that a good workout such as he'd just had with Frau Nordheim would have taken at least a couple of pounds off his middle. But these days there wasn't time to consider one's personal vanities. The war was critical now. Traitors and saboteurs, all people who weren't loyal to the Leader, must be found out and punished and eliminated. That was the only way to victory.
There was a respectful knock at the door, and he called out, “Herein!” And the door opened and it was his two “boys.” He felt most paternal towards them, though there really wasn't that much difference in age. He himself was in his early forties, and if he could find out who was responsible for that accursed paper, he could very easily become a general. “Now that's very thoughtful, boys,” he beamed. Willi and Manfred each carried a tray, and his eyes lighted up when he perceived what they had coaxed out of Frau Schneider. Some ham hocks, big mugs of scalding-hot coffee, a good-sized chunk of liverwurst, and several pieces of Apfel-strudel.
His two subordinates fawningly served him, let him take his choice, but he was in a generous mood and left them enough tidbits. They'd been very useful just now, and they were going to be still more useful in getting the truth out of that timid, shy bitch downstairs in a little while.
“Do you think she might be pissing again, Willi?” he chuckled as he daintily forked a bit of ham hock, put it into his mouth and luxuriously savored it.
“I wouldn't be surprised at all, Mein Oberst. I'd say she was ready to give out with just about everything,” the beetle-browed private grinned. He looked back at his companion with a smile. No two ways about it, if every officer in the Third Reich was as understanding and as man to man with you as the Herr Oberst, those verdammte Allies would have been wiped out long before this!
He glanced at his wrist watch. “We'll give our little friend another quarter of an hour. It's good to get one's second wind when one is dealing with a difficult and obstinate patient,” he explained. They grinned and nodded. Then suddenly there was a knock at the door. He frowned, set his plate down on a little tabouret beside his chair, and rose to his feet with a grimace of annoyance. He jerked his thumb at the door, and Willie Murtens sprang to his feet and hurried to open it.
It was the sergeant who had shot Max Dornburg. “Respectfully begging your pardon, Herr Oberst,” the Sergeant said as the portly figure of the Gestapo chief confronted him, “But Herrn Lukas and Witte and myself have just brought in three students, all from that Professor Nordheim's class. We thought you might want to have a go at them, sir. We think it might have something to do with the Till Eulenspiegel business.”
“Excellent, Sergeant Katzmire! Tell you what. You said three?”
“Jawohl, mein Oberst.”
“Male or female?”
“Two girls, mein Herr, and a fellow. There
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