My German Mistress

This is a true story about a woman who meant a lot to me many years ago.

It was 1973, and I was a 24 year old Army enlisted man, stationed in central Germany. I thought at the time that I was really out of the action, sexually, but in recalling those days later, I've realized that there were lots of unique experiences with women on that German tour. Perhaps some day I'll write about the lieutenant's wife, or the PFC's wife, or one of my other close calls. But the experience I recall most fondly is my relationship with Ursula.

Ursula was a fixture on the post where I was stationed. You'd frequently see her puttering around in her white VW bug. Ursula was German, but since she was married to a Stars and Stripes employee, she had the run of all the military facilities.

Ursula was talented in many ways, one of which was her facility with languages. She spoke German, French, and better English than most of the soldiers on our post. Her linguistic ability, combined with a vibrant, pleasing personality allowed her to have a thriving business buying and selling the things that soldiers and their families needed in a foreign country.

She would get used goods on the German economy, like major kitchen appliances, and sell them to the the lower ranks who had brought their wives and families to Europe, only to find that it was really different from the States. Many of these young men were just kids emotionally and had no clue how to function in a foreign country, far from their insulated neighborhoods back. When those soldiers left or sent their alienated and depressed wives home, Ursula was there to buy back the fridge or stove she'd sold them months earlier and place the item with a new owner, making a reasonable profit each time.

You'd often see her on the tennis court, where her skill could easily knock off a much younger male competitor. She had absolutely no problem humbling an opponent, yet she did it in a nice way, usually with words of encouragement for the bewildered soldier.

She was a striking figure on and off the court, with her straight, slim body and long, thick salt-and-pepper hair. She certainly didn't advertise it, but I found out later that she was 45 years old. Ursula was more woman than most of those hayseed privates and corporals had ever encountered. A powerful woman, and highly independent. Though she was only about 5'6" or so, her sharp nose and erect posture gave her the aire of someone much taller. Ursula wore fairly heavy blue eyeshadow and mascara that gave her deep-set eyes an intense quality, which contrasted with her quick smile.

I was frankly scared of her. I would never have thought to approach her sexually, since I knew she could shoot me down in three languages. After all, what had I to offer? An average-looking guy, a bit older than most of the enlisted men ambling about the post. More shy than I would have like to have been. But Ursula apparently saw something in me that she liked.

I can hardly remember how it happened or exactly what she said to me that day. We were at the Recreation Center after work. I used to go there sometimes in the evening and work in the darkroom. (One of the benefits of being in the Army was the ability to buy cameras and stereos at cut-rate prices, and I had acquired a nice SLR and learned to print black-and-white pictures at the Rec.) As I had nothing more interesting to do that night, I was at work on a couple of prints. One of them was a simple study of the textures in the broken body of a tree felled by lightning.

I had finished and was in the game room, sitting in a green vinyl chair, admiring my work when Ursula walked by. I almost felt like I should stand up and salute, she was so impressive. She leaned down to take a look a my 8x10, and I gazed at her B-cups through the top of her white blouse. I think that was the first time she had ever spoken to me directly, although I always aknowledged her when I saw her around.

Ursula was very savvy and very direct. It probably took her an instant to notice where my glance landed, and not much longer for her to make up her mind to give me a try. Maybe she liked the picture, and just in case, I've kept it all these years to remind me of her. For whatever reason, after a few minutes, she suggested, quite out of the blue, that we go downtown for a drink. There was absolutely no chance that I would say no.

Minutes later, we were in her bug rumbling down the cobblestone streets to a small restaurant and bar. Not one of the usual joints where the G.I.'s hung out. I was in civies, but the haircut in those days was a giveaway. Ursula didn't seem to mind that I stuck out in the place. She was acquainted with the bartender in the nearly empty, cosy little bar, and we had a nice drink. When she asked if I'd like to come back to her place, again there was only one possible answer.

I began to learn then about Ursula's situation, but only a little bit that first night. I knew she was a Mrs, but she revealed to me that her husband was quite unconcerned about her sex life. They not only had separate bedrooms in opposite ends of the house, but she rarely saw him except at dinner time. He left every night, and she never knew if he came home or not. And he never questioned her about her activities, much less intruded upon them.

When we got to her room, she sat me on the bed and matter-of-factly began peeling off her clothes, watching for my reaction. At that point, she even asked me for my reaction, which I'm sure was obvious. I was fascinated. With Ursula in bra and panties, I could wait no longer to let her know I approved. I stood and held her close, trying to use my most sophisticated technique with a very sophisticated woman.

That may have been about the only time I was in charge, and it was a brief moment. This was Ursula's choice, and Ursula was going to conduct the enterprise. She pulled back the covers on the bed and undressed me completely. I didn't require any assistance with erection, but she touched me and then went to her knees. I'll never forget the sight of those blue painted eyelids surrounding green eyes, staring up at me coyly, my penis decending slowly into her mouth.

I didn't want to come that way. I wanted to be in her sex, and she must have known I couldn't take much of that sucking, so she only worked me briefly. Then it was into bed, bra and panties removed, and legs spread in the traditional missionary manner. (I've found that's always a good choice for a first time.)

I managed to get all the way inside her before I started to come, and soon I was spewing semen all over her vaginal walls. But I maintained a kind of control, even in the chaotic moment of release, and I kept moving gently and deliberately, never losing my erection. Ursula, always in control, asked me, "Didn't you come? I know you did!". And I just nodded, looked into her strong face, and kept on moving. What I wanted most right then was to be worthy, so that Ursula would invite me back.

It took a while for her to realize that I was not finished and that I wanted her to enjoy our lovemaking. I was using my best, gentlest moves on her, holding myself up off of her, bending down to kiss, and caressing those lovely breasts. In time, it worked on her, and her face contorted with the intensity of sensation, and I felt her vaginal muscles squeeze me harder. As she relaxed beneath me, I move my left leg over her right one, which provided more support and gave me a better angle of entry, the top my penis rubbing lightly on her clitoris. In this position, I continued for several more minutes until my second climax, more frenzied than the first, erupted inside her.

At that point, I was exhausted, but I was quite willing to taste her pussy and bring her along to a second climax. But she would have none of it. It was considerably later in our relationship before she would let me eat her, and I found out she thought that cunnilingus was somehow degrading to a man. After I explained to her that I didn't consider it to be, and that her satisfaction was equally as important to me as my own, she relented. And I think she really enjoyed it, although she always preferred intercourse.

She took me back to the post that night, since I had to be up before 6AM. The next day, I began to find out how good life can be with an older woman. Each time we would meet, she had some little present for me, and she took me places I could never have gone had it not been for her. She was in control, but she did it all for me. We took a couple of weekend trips, once to a picturesque water-castle where the old stable had been converted to a restaurant. She took me to small towns, hill tops, museums, and cozy hotels. It was like having a personal tour guide who also provided great sex.

I was always finding little notes she had left for me in my car. One of them said that I was "the bright spot in [her] khaki existence". Another time, she started hinting about giving me something very special. She was going to get herself "very clean" for me, she said. It was obvious what she was talking about, but I could hardly believe it. When we got to her room that night, the truth of what she had promised became evident. After kissing and cuddling for a few minutes, Ursula turned on her stomach and began applying lubricant to her anus.

It was a first for me, and I will never forget it. The image of me gently pressing my raging penis into her slick asshole will remain with me forever. What a feeling! So tight and so different from a mouth or vagina. I reached around her and cupped her mons, my middle finger finding and caressing her clit. I kissed her neck, tongued her ears, and whispered my thanks to her and all the gods. I came so completely that I thought I might pass out, and Ursula let me remain in her for awhile.

When I finally pulled out, I was still hard from that peak experience. She was ready with a washcloth for me and herself, and I was ready to enter her pussy in a very few minutes, making sure that she came this time as her just reward.

Just before Christmas, I was sent on temporary duty to Frankfurt. It became somewhat harder to see Ursula, although I still managed it on weekends. However, at 24, a guy is always looking. And there was a WAC there who looked back. Many times I have regretted taking up with that WAC who didn't stack up against Ursula in any department. She may have been over 20 years younger than Ursula, but in every other way, Ursula ruled.

I didn't break it off with Ursula, thinking I could have it all. What a fool. The WAC went back to the post with me to see where I lived, and Ursula's little bug drove by as we walked hand-in-hand. I got a note from her the next day. It was very kind, noting that I'd found a "new friend" and wishing me luck. That was the end.

Although I gave it a half-hearted try, I knew that there was no appeal from her decision. She had always been in charge, and I had crossed a line. Ursula was totally faithful to whomever she was with at the time, and she would move on to the next when that time was up. We continued to see each other around and we remained friends, but our time together was over.

Before I went back to the states, Ursula gave me an 8x10 black and white portrait of herself, which I still have. It reminds me to appreciate what I have, while I have it.