10. Drop by Drop
Drop by Drop
Clack. Clack. The steady typing carried from the study.
Behind Nadja, Karl knelt on the floor. His face was pushed forward. The rough tip of his nose pressed close to her asshole. The first stroke of his tongue left a wet trail from bottom to top, sliding slowly over the thin skin around her sphincter.
Nadja jerked hard. The muscles along the insides of her thighs and in her ass tightened convulsively around his face. Her fingernails dug deep into the edge of the sink. She desperately tried to hold still. To turn to stone.
But that tongue was in no hurry. It licked provocatively slowly.
The soft, warm tip slid upward again, this time lingering torturously over the most sensitive spot.
It was precisely that deliberate, filthy slowness that made her tremble.
A fine tingling spread from the damp skin, pulled deep inside her, ran along her spine, and softened her bones.
She recognized the feeling. She knew it far too well.
This was exactly what she had been searching for during the past few nights when she silently pleasured herself beneath the covers. Every time, she had tried to extinguish the throbbing lust inside her. And every time, something had been missing. Something dark and bottomless that had no name.
Now it was back. Like the very first dose after dry, agonizing days of withdrawal.
She hated it. And she hungered for it.
One did not cancel out the other. Both rose inside her at the same time, intertwined and impossible to separate.
Her left hand slipped across the wet stainless steel. The soaked shirt clung to her violently trembling breasts. Her hair hung forward, hiding her flushed cheeks. Her ash-gray eyes remained fixed on the crack in the door.
Clack. Clack.
Markus kept typing. Steady. Unaware. Directly behind the half-open door.
And that innocent sound, that living proof that her husband was sitting only a few steps away, could not put out the fire inside her.
It did the exact opposite. It fed it mercilessly.
Karl’s tongue continued moving deep through the cleft of her ass, slow and steady. Nadja’s lower body trembled. The shaking traveled from her calves into her hips and gathered as boiling heat between her thighs, heat she had long since lost control over.
The typing stopped.
Markus’s voice came through the crack in the door. “Everything okay out there?”
Nadja froze. Her pelvis jerked forward reflexively. Karl’s tongue slowly pulled away from her wet skin with a soft smacking sound.
Nadja’s throat trembled. “Everything’s fine… he’s still fixing it. Almost done.”
“Want me to help?”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Keller, I already found the leak.” Karl’s hoarse voice cut filthily through her answer.
For a moment, the air turned thick and motionless.
Clack. Clack.
The keyboard started again.
Behind her, a low, throaty laugh rose from Karl’s chest. He whispered in a voice barely above the damp floor: “See? I’m fixing the pipe for your husband.”
Nadja whipped her head around over her shoulder. Her eyes were dark with arousal and rage. “Then finish licking and get out.”
Karl immediately lowered his head submissively.
This time, he no longer licked hesitantly. His tongue moved in longer, deeper, much filthier strokes, drawing wet circles directly over her hole before suddenly pushing hard against it.
Nadja bit her lip until she tasted blood. A whimper still escaped her.
Karl’s left hand left her ass, slid around her lower belly, and reached between her spread thighs from the front. His thin fingertips, stained with dark grease, touched the swollen lips of her pussy, now hypersensitive from all the pent-up arousal.
At first he only rubbed. Then he slowly parted them, slid deeply over the slick flesh, and drew a shiny, sticky thread of her wetness between his fingers.
Nadja closed her eyes. She wanted to simply sink into that unconditional pleasure. But she forced her eyes open again and stared rigidly toward the door of her husband’s study.
She wanted to curse Karl. She wanted to order him to go faster. She wanted to tell him to stop immediately.
Every word lodged in her throat when Karl’s tongue pressed firmly against her asshole again and one rough finger slid into her wet pussy from the front.
Her back arched. Her knees spread wider. Her body did it on its own.
Greedily making room for his hand, pushing her hips backward and bringing the old man’s mouth even closer to the cleft of her ass.
“Ah…”
The sound broke from Nadja’s mouth. She instantly raised a hand and pressed it over her lips to smother it.
Karl pushed the finger deeper. A soft, wet smacking joined the oblivious clatter from the next room.
One finger. Then two.
He curled them deep inside her wet pussy while his mouth refused to leave her ass. His tongue circled her hole, his nose pressed deeply into her soft flesh, his hot breath blowing straight into her cleft.
“… Karl.”
This time Nadja couldn’t stop it. His name slipped from her lips like a sinful mistake.
Karl swallowed audibly.
His two fingers curled deep inside her while his thumb rubbed hard over her swollen clit. He found the most sensitive spot, then massaged it slowly, evenly, cruelly.
Every time he hooked his fingers sharply upward, Nadja’s lower body jerked. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably. Her ass pushed farther and farther back, pressing her hole and dripping pussy even closer to his face.
“I…” Nadja’s breath tore out of her, shredded against her own palm. “I can’t take this…”
Karl’s tongue pushed harder against her. The two fingers in her pussy hooked upward even more brutally.
Nadja folded forward and nearly struck her forehead against the sink. Her arms tensed just to keep her upper body upright. Her breathing came in trembling fragments, turning into muffled little sounds she crushed between her teeth.
But her hips didn’t pull away. Quite the opposite.
She pushed herself heavily backward, grinding against him more roughly now, sliding her pussy over Karl’s knuckles and presenting her hole even more insistently to his filthy tongue.
“Ah… no… don’t…” The sentence broke into a wild moan.
Karl hooked his fingers hard one final time. Nadja’s entire body arched upward.
Her knees gave out, only her hands still clinging rigidly to the edge of the sink. Her tight hole clenched greedily again and again around the tip of his tongue while his nose pressed deep into her soft flesh. Her vagina contracted tightly around his rough fingers.
Then a massive spasm tore from her lower belly down into her thighs.
Hot fluid burst from her in streams, running over Karl’s fingers, splashing directly across his face, and dripping onto the tiles, where it mixed in milky traces with the water from the leaking pipe.
Nadja moaned deep in her throat, strangled, no clear voice left, only broken, animal sounds buried beneath the oblivious typing and the dripping water.
Plip. Plip. Clack. Clack.
Her whole body shook, and for one long heartbeat she kept her hips pushed backward as though her body wanted to squeeze out the very last trace of pleasure from the old man’s mouth and hand behind her.
Karl remained in that position one second too long.
His face was pressed firmly against Nadja’s wet crotch. Her glistening fluid clung around his mouth and across his cheeks. His panting breath scraped loudly through the air. His eyes were wide and staring blankly ahead, like a man who had just gotten exactly the fix he was addicted to.
Clack. Clack. Then sudden silence.
A chair scraped sharply across the wooden floor in the next room.
Nadja lunged forward in panic, grabbed the waistband of her shorts and panties, and yanked both hurriedly back over her hips.
Her fingers fumbled over one another. Her calves shook badly.
Behind her, Karl grabbed the oil-stained rag and hastily wiped his mouth. His lips were still wet. His chin gleamed suspiciously beneath the kitchen’s fluorescent light.
He snatched up the adjustable wrench and ducked his head deep beneath the sink.
Nadja straightened.
Hot blood rushed into her face. Her hair clung wildly around her. The wet shirt stretched tightly across her heavy breasts.
She grabbed the dish towel from the counter and crushed it into a tight ball between both hands.
Footsteps approached across the wooden floor. Markus appeared in the doorway.
His mouth curved into an uncertain, grateful smile. His gaze moved over the cloudy puddle, paused in confusion on his wife’s bright red face, then shifted beneath the sink, where Karl was awkwardly crawling back out.
Markus frowned slightly. “Your face is completely wet, Mr. Seifert.”
Karl only half raised his head and wiped his chin once more with the dirty back of his hand. He didn’t look at Nadja. He didn’t smile either.
“Your pipes are damn old,” he replied flatly. “Sprays everywhere. I just found the damn spot.”
Markus looked down at the tiles with concern. “That bad?”
“Yeah.” Karl stuck his head back under the sink and tightened the adjustable wrench with a metallic clack. “Next time, the whole section will probably need replacing. If you leave something like this too long, eventually the entire apartment floods.”
Nadja squeezed the towel so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Karl craned his neck and looked up at her, imperious. His voice was flat, calm, and completely commanding. “Wipe up the dirty water, please.”
Nadja bent down submissively and dropped to her knees. She pressed the towel firmly into the puddle on the tiles.
Beneath the shorts she had hastily pulled back up, her pussy was still trembling. Still soaking wet. Every nerve ending still remembered every movement of his tongue.
Karl braced one hand on his knee and stood with a groan. The other rubbed his lower back. His wrinkled face twisted in exaggerated pain.
“You get old. Bend down once and the bones start grinding.”
Markus immediately stepped over and took his elbow to support him. “Thank you so much, Mr. Seifert. Really. I feel terrible that we had to bother you on your weekend.”
“Oh, please. Neighbors are glad to help each other out.” Karl showed his yellow teeth in a grin. “You have to keep an eye on the pipes in a building like this. If you get too wrapped up in work and neglect them, they start leaking right away.”
Markus laughed softly, without catching even the slightest hint of the dark double meaning. “Yeah. I’ll pay more attention from now on.”
“You should.” Karl answered extremely slowly. “Your apartment is still so young. Still so beautiful. Don’t let old things ruin it.”
The sentence fell into the clean kitchen like a filthy stain that could never be erased.
Nadja bent lower and blindly pressed the towel against the tiles.
Her ears burned. Fucking old pig. She screamed it only inside her head.
Markus turned and politely walked Karl to the apartment door.
Nadja remained frozen on the floor, her upper body bent low over the tiles. The arm holding the towel trembled in short, betraying jerks.
When Markus had already reached the door and had his back to the kitchen, Karl stopped. He turned his head back.
Then he winked at Nadja with his right eye. The tip of his tongue slipped out and slowly, wetly, provocatively licked once across his lips.
Nadja’s entire body jerked. She snapped her head away. The towel scraped harder across the wet tiles.
From outside came Markus’s unsuspecting voice. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Seifert.”
Karl answered hoarsely, calmly triumphant. “And you keep an eye on those pipes. If anything starts running again, let me know immediately.”
A paper-thin pause. Then Markus laughed politely. “Yeah. I will.”
The door hinges groaned. The bolt made a dull sound as it slid into place.
Nadja was still kneeling.
The towel in her hand was soaked through and heavy with dripping water. The weight pressed uncomfortably against her knees.
The tiles in front of her were already clean. There wasn’t a visible drop of water left.
But her arm kept pressing the wet cloth obsessively against the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth.
As though she could simply wipe away what had just happened in that kitchen. As though she could erase from her skin what that disgusting old man had left behind inside her.
In the humid air, sickeningly mixed with the scent of lavender, Markus’s voice drifted in from the hallway.
Nadja lowered her head even farther. Her cheeks burned with deep shame, raw fury, and that uncontrollable filthy arousal that had only just been ignited again.
Her hand trembled and kept scrubbing endlessly at an invisible stain on the tiles.