"I'd like to volunteer to help at our local refugee center."
Sandra's words, spoken out of the blue, abruptly ended Frank's little monologue he had been giving, commenting the piece of news about a horribly looking refugee camp they were showing on TV during the refugee crisis in Europe in early 2016.
"What, my love?" Frank immediately reacted. "You'd like to do what?"
"I'd like to help!" Sandra answered. "I can't take this anymore. Here we are, watching those poor people arrive in Europe day by day, arguing about whether they should be here in the first place, whether they should be deported, whether they should be given anything, et cetera, et cetera!"
Sandra shifted on the sofa to face her husband, catching his eyes with a severe look on her face. If Frank knew one thing about his loving wife of 3 years, it was that look that told him she wasn't kidding, and he would be well-advised to take her seriously.
"I want to do something, Frank!" Sandra went on. "I want to do something instead of talk all the time! Maybe those useless politicians come up with a solution for this mess, but until then, we need to get active! Those poor people have come to us, and they're going to stay here for quite a while, no matter whether they're here legally or not."
Frank held his wife's gaze and thought about what she had just said. Although they both had always been on the rather conservative side of the political landscape, they agreed that Germany did the right thing when they didn't close their borders back in 2015, preventing a humanitarian crisis in poorer European countries where hundreds of thousands of refugees and migrants would have faced the cold, hunger and thirst.
The couple had lived in the German town of Kaiserfurt, Sandra's hometown, for about two and a half years now. Two teacher salaries enabled them to build a nice, medium-sized house, buy two cars and two well-deserved holidays a year. There weren't any kids yet, and if it were up to Frank, there wouldn't be any until they turned 30. Life was good for them, and they were thankful for it.
"Well, that would be quite an act of charity, my love," Frank answered after some time of contemplation. "What do you have in mind exactly?"
"Well, do you remember me telling you that Anna, our primary school's vice principal, has already started giving volunteer German language classes in the refugee center?" Sandra told him in an excited manner. "I would like to help her! Speaking German is essential to live in this country, and I can't think of a better way to help those people to integrate into our society, to get a job and to simply manage German everyday life."
Frank didn't see any reason why that wasn't a good idea and gave his wife his okay. Two days passed, and finally, Sandra returned home with some paper work to fill out.
"They said, I could start tomorrow. I'm completely free in how I organize the lessons as long as I aim for standardized goals regarding grammar, spelling, speaking and writing." Sandra told Frank euphorically. "Anna's already set up two classes with 10 students each for me, and I should be teaching them at least twice a week for about two hours per lesson."
"Do you think you're up for that?" Frank asked her with a touch of concern. "Can you handle job, private life and your new responsibilities?"
"Yes, Frank," Sandra laughed. "How many times have I told you: unlike you, I'm a primary school teacher. If I can manage that adorable bunch of little monsters, I think I'm up for pretty much any task in the world. And don't you worry, I'm going to make sure to keep everything in the right balance."
Sandra came over to him, standing next to the kitchen table, and hugged him. Her embrace, her lovely smell and the feeling of her slender body against his had always made him feel like he was in heaven, accompanied by an angel.
"And what about security?" Frank asked, holding her in his arms. "Is it safe there? I know they preferably show footage of little children on TV, but many say it's predominantly young men coming here."
"Don't you worry," Sandra said, giving him a kiss on his cheek, "there's a security service in the facility at all times, and their main post is just outside the classroom. And as for the other issue: one of my classes consists of Syrian mothers and their children and the other of male refugees from sub-Saharan Africa, predominantly Ghana."
The thought of his petite wife being alone in a room with 10 African men suddenly caused concern in Frank, but his wife assured him that her safety was guaranteed by the security team, and they had been instructed to be close by at all lessons.
Frank decided not to overthink it all. Women across the country had been volunteering to help refugees for months now, and so far, Frank hadn't heard of any major incident about a volunteer worker and a refugee in one of the facilities.
Sandra remained in a particularly good mood for the rest of the day. She was always coming up with new ideas what to teach and how to do it, and eventually, the omnipresence of the refugee topic started to annoy Frank a little. That's why he was especially glad when they were finally lying in bed, having great sex. Not only was it particularly good that night since Sandra's overall excitement hadn't diminished, but making his wife moan from the thrusts of his cock also prevented her from going on about that one subject.
Sandra was on all fours with her head resting on a pillow and her firm butt raised high in the air as Frank was pounding her vigorously, causing her full, C-Cup breasts to bounce back and forth. Although he didn't have the biggest cock, he found it easy to make his wife cum using the right technique at the right moment. Pulling her long, red hair, which was bound together to a ponytail, backwards, Frank released all of his cum into the condom he had to use since Sandra didn't really like other forms of birth control.
The next day was a Thursday. It came and passed just as normally as any other. After work, Frank left the local high school, went home and prepared some lessons for next week. He had sent Sara a message whishing her good luck with her first lesson and telling her there would be her favorite dish from the Chinese delivery service waiting for her when she would return.
The delivery guy had just left, and Frank had just finished setting up the table for dinner, when Sandra came back. She put all the bags with her teaching material on the floor, got out of her coat and greeted her husband with a kiss.
"Hi darling," Frank said. "How was it? Are you alright?"
"Hey, my love," Sandra answered, "it was very good! I'd like to tell you all about it later though, because I'm literally starving!"
They didn't waste any time, sat down at the table in the living-room and enjoyed their meals. Sandra was wearing a casual outfit consisting of a dark green blouse, blue skinny jeans and white sneakers. Her lovely red hair had been bound to a ponytail again.
Sandra really must have been starving, because she finished her meal before Frank did, which - at least to Frank's knowledge - was a first.
Finally, she told him everything about her first day. She had taught the class with the African men. Most of them had a rudimentary knowledge of English and practically didn't know any German except for the most basic words like 'Hallo' or 'Danke'. They had been living at the refugee center for 3 months and hadn't seen any German instructor or anything like it until Sandra came.
Sandra told Frank it was a very positive surprise for her to find all her students to be very polite and attentive. Although she had to admit that at first, it was a strange feeling to stand in front of those black, exotically-looking men, she quickly felt quite comfortable around them and was sure she'd be able to get them to a decent level of German in a few months. The only little downer for her was the fact that the other class with Syrian mothers and children had been cancelled, because there just hadn't been enough participants.
Frank was glad that everything was going smoothly, and over the next two weeks, that impression he got was confirmed by Sandra's reports about the good atmosphere with her new students and the eagerness with which they seemed to be willing to learn the language.
The next week came, and on Monday evening (Sandra was giving class every Monday and Thursday evening), Frank was lying on the couch, waiting for Sandra. He had had Dinner by himself, because Sandra had called and told him she would be having dinner with her students since they had prepared some typically African meals they wanted her to taste after dinner as a thank you for her efforts.
