14. The Name on the Table #2
Karl became more animalistic. He licked broader, pushed deeper, mercilessly split her wet lips with the flat of his tongue, and kept returning to that tiny hypersensitive point that felt ready to burst beneath his smacking mouth.
Nadja’s knees fell even farther apart helplessly.
Beneath the table, Karl buried his face deeply in her wetness. The hard stubble on his chin rubbed raw against the delicate skin of her inner thighs.
It was so unbelievably filthy. So humiliating.
Nadja had to turn her head away— but raw pleasure climbed through her layer by layer and mercilessly tightened around her throat.
“You old pig…” Her voice was extremely quiet. Dripping with contempt. And utterly powerless.
Karl looked up at her from the slippery center of her thighs. His wrinkled mouth gleamed wet with her juices. He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he provocatively licked her again, deliberately slow, deliberately obscene enough that she could clearly watch from above as his old tongue slid deep through her soaking-wet slit.
“I’m eating,” he grunted wetly. “And this tastes a thousand times better than any potato.”
Nadja closed her eyes in torment. A hoarse moan nearly caught in her throat.
Her face turned dark red, and a thought shot through her mind far too quickly: Of course her pussy tasted better than potatoes. And the instant the thought existed, she was so profoundly ashamed of it that she grew even wetter.
Karl raised one hand. Two rough, thick fingers stroked across her wet entrance.
At first, he only circled it provocatively, letting his own saliva and Nadja’s dripping wetness merge into a slick, smacking layer between her legs. A deep, animal growl vibrated in Karl’s throat.
His fingers traced another deliberately slow circle around her tight opening, cruelly stretching out the moment before he was finally allowed inside her.
Then two old fingers pushed slowly but relentlessly deep into her.
Nadja bit her lower lip until it bled. His rough fingertips curled inside her pussy and immediately searched for the soft, throbbing place within her.
At the same time, his mouth kept noisily sucking at her clit.
The movements were steady. Extremely experienced. Patient. So obscene and filthy that her thighs began trembling uncontrollably.
Nadja’s lower belly clenched.
She lowered one hand onto Karl’s gray hair. At first, it was only a fleeting touch. Then her fingers tangled hard into it, grabbed a thick handful, and brutally pulled his wet face deeper between her legs.
“How’s my licking, Mrs. Keller?” Karl briefly released her pussy and stared up at her.
“Badly. Like a mangy old dog,” she hissed lustfully through clenched teeth. “Use your fucking old tongue properly.”
Karl groaned dully against her wet skin.
He pressed his face even deeper between her legs, his tongue hammering in quick circles around her swollen clit while the two thick fingers drove hard and confidently inside her.
Nadja arched on the chair. Her bare ass rubbed against the rough wood, and every thrust of her hips drove her more tightly against Karl’s smacking mouth.
Above them, the fried potatoes were going cold. The foam in the beer bottle collapsed. Beneath the table, the uninterrupted wet smacking mixed with the old man’s heavy, hoarse breathing.
Nadja opened her mouth wide and desperately tried to draw in a deep breath. But the air caught halfway.
The orgasm was rising far too quickly inside her.
All it took was for Karl’s tongue to suck mercilessly one more time, for his fingers to stroke exactly across her G-spot deep inside her once more— and her entire lower body clenched so brutally it felt as though she might tear apart from within.
She hated it. She hated how cheaply and quickly her body reacted to him.
She hated that a pathetic old man with cheap beer and pork fat on his mouth could kneel under her husband’s fucking dining table and make her come faster, harder, dirtier than Markus had in all those nights when he touched her so properly and gently.
A high, whimpering moan broke uncontrollably from Nadja’s throat. This time she couldn’t swallow it.
Karl curled his fingers deep inside her again.
Nadja’s legs trembled violently. Her toes clawed against the floor. The muscles of her ass tightened hard against the wooden chair. Her hand pulled even harder at Karl’s hair and pressed his face mercilessly into her wetness.
Her hips began thrusting wildly, as if, all on her own, she were fucking the face of this repulsive old pig like a bitch in heat.
The orgasm was visibly lodged in her throat.
A hard, sustained vibration suddenly cut through the silence.
The iPhone beside the salad plate lit up brightly on the wood. The flat synthetic voice announced:
“Markus is calling.”
Nadja’s eyes flew open in shock. The name hit the hot kitchen like a bucket of ice water.
Markus’s chair. Markus’s table. Markus’s apartment.
And beneath that very table, Karl’s wet mouth was still buried between the legs of Markus’s wife.
The phone vibrated heavily against the wood again.
“Markus is calling.”
Shit. Nadja cursed silently.
That damn emotionless AI voice repeated her husband’s name, perfectly clear and distinct. That new announcement feature — she’d only turned it on because it seemed convenient at the time.
And now it monotonously spoke her husband’s name while another man, an old neighbor, shamelessly licked her beneath the dining table.
At the exact moment Markus’s name rang through the kitchen for the second time, her pussy clenched tight around Karl’s old fingers — involuntarily, mercilessly.
Warm, thick wetness surged from her, running in streams over his knuckles and making the smacking mouth beneath her even wetter.
Nadja clenched her teeth until it hurt.
No.
Karl stopped abruptly. He lifted his mouth from her pulsing, dark-red flesh and slowly drew his face out from beneath the edge of the table.
His wrinkled lips gleamed shamelessly with her saliva and fluids. His chin was completely wet with her juices.
His eyes looked almost frighteningly calm, but the dirty corner of his mouth had already spread into a broad, triumphant grin.
Nadja stared down at him, completely breathless. Karl looked directly into her eyes. Then he whispered from below, between her spread thighs, in a hideously rough, knowing voice:
“Answer it, Nadja.”
The phone screen continued glowing relentlessly on the cooling dining table.