Atie's Austrian Adventure

"Katie's Austrian Adventure"

by J.D. Savanyu

My flight finally touches down at the Vienna airport, two hours after leaving London. I can't wait to see daddy again on my spring break from Oxford (clothed

and

unclothed.) As the jumbo jet taxis toward the terminal, I reminisce about our long steamy love affair back home in Connecticut, starting on my eighteenth birthday when he gave me a skimpy $900 bikini. A little spark that set off a powder keg of incestous desire, exploding in our big bubbling hot tub. He took my virginity on a cold February evening just like this one in the heart of Austria. Exactly one year later.

My phone pings with a new message after a long period of ambient atmospheric peace. It's daddy! My pussy instantly flares up with perverted desire.

Roger:

Hallo, meine erregende Tochter. Willkommen in Österreich.

(A little German that mommy taught him, before she divorced his billionaire ass.)

Katie:

English please, my sexy yankee father. Can't wait 2 CU.

Roger:

I can't wait to -- you know.

Katie:

I know damn well, daddy. I've been so naughty at Oxford, but I wished I was being naughty with you.

Roger:

I'll punish you good tonight after dinner and Wagner.

Katie: You better ride me hard after riding the valkyries.

Roger:

Careful Katie. Outside voices.

Katie:

Don't worry, Mister Keofferam. Nobody is sitting next to me.

Roger:

Whatever blondie. A limo driver is waiting for you outside the terminal. He'll take you to meet me at the Goulash Museum.

Katie:

There's a whole museum just about goulash?

Roger:

Not quite ;-)

I stroll through the terminal with my head in the clouds, hungry for old world cuisine and eager to hear some old world opera. My mother Leni grew up in the heart of Vienna, and she handed down her love of that archaic music to her only child in the ritzy New York suburbs. I miss her just as much as daddy, in a platonic way. I'm a straight father fucker.

A tall blonde driver greets me with a charming Arnold Schwarzenegger-esque accent near the entrance to the airport. I park my yoga-toned ass on the plush leather seat of a limo and watch the bland postmodern suburbs gradually morph into a classical Habsburgian wonderland. A light flurry falls around the massive gothic spires of Saint Stephen's Cathedral and the Votivkirche, making an awesome souvenir snow globe effect.

The driver swings around the iconic Ringstrasse boulevard where the city walls used to be, now lined with fantastical Baroque architecture. Many more ornate spires rise from the heart of town, inspiring many dirty phallic thoughts. My pussy gets wet beneath my luxurious silk panties, anticipating lots of rough sex with Roger Keofferam over the next five days in Vienna before I go back to Oxford and hit the dusty history books.

I picture the opening sequence of

The Opening of Misty Beethoven

, daddy's favorite 1970's porn movie which turned into my favorite too. I imagine Dr. Seymour Love visiting Paris from New York, strolling around the sleazy Paris red light district with funky instrumental music added in post-production. Entering a dingy XXX movie theater on Rue Saint-Denis and paying for a public handjob from Misty, a feisty expat American prostitute. Seymour went to a Paris brothel the next night and watched Misty fucking another guy while wearing nothing but a MasterCharge t-shirt.

Misty Beethoven

was a porno chic reimagining of Shaw's

Pygmalion

, with smart-ass sexologist Seymour turning low-class Misty into a "proper" high-class hooker during a series of erotic adventures across several European cities. Roger gave me the same treatment during our incest adventures in Greenwich, Manhattan, and our private mountain resort in Maine. Using wild sex and white-collar playboy machismo to turn me from a bratty bitch nobody else liked to a sophisticated jet-setting playgirl that every man wants a piece of.

The driver pulls up to the Goulash Museum on Mahlerstraße near the opera house. It's a restaurant, not a museum, serving nothing but gourmet goulash. Roger is waiting for me in a plush red velvet booth beneath a portrait of Empress Sisi, looking like John Jacob Astor in a three-piece tuxedo. He stands up and grins from ear to ear with his arms open wide.

"

Daddy!

" I shriek like a giddy little girl, slamming right into his muscular body and planting a big wet kiss right on his smiling lips. "I missed you

soooo

much."

"I missed you even more. Happy birthday, Kay-Kay! You're almost the big 2-0."

I feel his cock getting hard beneath his overpriced pants. "I'm still daddy's ditzy little teenager. Is that my birthday present in your pocket?"

"You're so funny, honey." He quickly sits back down in the booth and covers up the bulge with an embroidered napkin. "I've heard a lot about this new place. They got twenty varieties of goulash."

"Oh gosh, so much goulash," I giggle. A cute redhead waitress in a traditional Hungarian gypsy dress stops at our table. Daddy orders the classic style with beef and paprika, while I throw caution to the wind and order the Teriyaki Dragon goulash.

"Leni would have loved the Goulash Museum," he muses, gazing longingly at my pretty face as I gaze right back at him with big blue Alpine milkmaid eyes. I look like those girls on the cover of Muesli cereal boxes in Austrian grocery stores.

"I'm sure she's going to lots of

real

museums with her new husband," I reply primly, twirling my shiny blonde bangs.

"Lots of operas too."

"She looks like a porn parody of Brünnhilde from Wagner's operas."

"So do

you

, blondie."

"That hot gold-digging milf really knows how to dig her claws into billionaires."

"You talk that way about your own mother?"

"Not to her face," I utter slyly, cocking my head with overpowering arousal.

"Of course," Daddy snickers. "So... how's your love life at Oxford?"

"Getting right to the good stuff, eh? Fuck that academic shit."

"I bet those balmy British blokes are lining up for your affections, halfway around the block."

"They sure are. I've lost count of how many boyfriends I've had during my freshman year."

"Another American swinger living it up on a 'grand tour,' like Bill Clinton back in the day."

"I did

not

inhale either," I remark sweetly. "Nobody compares to you, daddy."

"You're one in a million, Katie. One in a

billion

. I can't wait to have...

fun

with you this week."

"Even more

fun

than our little adventure at 30 Rock."

"God damn, that was such a crazy thrill," Roger murmurs with nostalgic lust. My clitoris throbs intensely, impatient for satisfaction. Estrogen and naughtiness take control of my hazy mind. I kick off my shoes under the table and slowly lift my dainty right foot toward his crotch. My big toe hits that long hard familiar cock. He groans gutturally and takes a suggestive sip of hearty St. Pauli Girl beer. I raise my other foot under the table and squeeze them together on his thick rod, foot-fucking him nice and slow from tip to balls. Driving daddy crazy, just like the good ol' days in Greenwich.

This place is full of European and Asian tourists who don't speak English and are completely unaware of our non-celebrity identities. Roger Keofferam's stock market wizardry made him the 79th richest man in the world, but to them he's just another Joe Blow playing dress-up in Mozart's old stomping grounds.

"Cut it out, girl," he mutters, pushing my feet back down toward the floor. "We'll have some nice juicy bratwurst later on, for a post-Wagner midnight snack."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Daddy leads me by the hand toward the Vienna State Opera House, soaring gracefully over the Ringstrasse. The interior is even more spectacular, full of lavish gilded plasterwork and paintings of gods and muses from the swingin' 1860's. He leads me up a grand marble staircase full of rich Eurotrash phonies. I feel like a slutty Cinderella at a royal debutante ball, making a grand entrance with my secretly incestuous Prince Charming.

We climb a smaller stairway, emerging at a cluster of private boxes twenty feet above the cheap seats, near a stage full of fake Black Forest trees somewhere in Bavaria.

"Are you ready to rock, Daddy?" I utter sweetly, stroking his hairy right hand.

"Hell yeah. Hojotoho!"

"I wish I bothered to learn more German."

"Opera is better when you don't understand the lyrics. Filling in the blanks with your own existential angst."

A huge crystal chandelier goes dim, and a huge orchestra pounds out a loud epic Wagnerian overture, sweeping the audience into a mystical realm. Siegmund meets his twin sister Sieglinde in a forest clearing, singing loudly and mostly incoherently to our American ears. Something about a dragon named Fafner who's guarding a vast horde of gold in a secret location, along with a magic dwarf-crafted ring that gives the wearer immense powers. The inspiration for Tolkein's much more entertaining fantasy novels.

I soon give up trying to make sense of it, and I just imagine Siegmund fucking his sister. Hiking up her vintage fur cloak and "stabbing" her with his long manly "sword." I've had that mythical masturbatory fantasy ever since I hit puberty while watching these operas during our family vacations. But not so much since daddy divorced Leni and subsequently deflowered me. Roger opened my eyes to a whole new world of erotic possibilities, greatly expanding my definition of pleasure before I graduated from Greenwich High School. Giving me the confidence I needed to get straight A's at the most prestigious university in the world.

My mind drifts away from Wagner's lethargic ancient narrative toward modern times, recalling my last sexual encounter at Oxford with a hot English redhead named Roderick Haithcock. Roderick flirted with me before a class about Henry VIII, and kept flirting afterward in the famous fourteenth-century dining room where they filmed the Harry Potter Hogwarts dinner scenes. I took him back to my gothic dorm room on King Edward Street, where he spanked and screwed me royally. I can't get enough rough sex with dominant alpha males, but I can never get it as good as Daddy gave it to me Stateside.

The setting shifts to a high ridge in the Bavarian Alps. Wotan meets Brünnhilde, his mighty blonde Valkyrie daughter, and orders her to protect Siegmund in his upcoming battle with Sieglinde's husband Hunding. My mental setting shifts thousands of miles across the ocean to a remote hilly forest in the Maine boondocks, where I had lots of naked fun last summer at Roger Keofferam's private two thousand acre retreat. Daddy fucked my brains out in a large lake and under a majestic waterfall. I can almost feel that cool crisp mountain water slamming against my skin on a hot sunny afternoon, while he pounds my pussy in the standing missionary position. Smacking my wet white ass over and over, making it hurt so good.

We had so much rough aquaphile sex that week, I could barely walk by the time it was over. Turning my wild outdoor porn fantasies into vivid reality. Imagining valkyries soaring through the star-studded Appalachian sky. Carrying our spirits away from the corrupt stock market battlefields of New York, flying toward a vague Valhalla.

I get hornier and hornier watching those sexy Norse sprites in full Viking battle gear, until I literally can't take it anymore. I put my pink $1,200 Gucci purse on my lap and masturbate discreetly behind it, rubbing my clit in slow circles through my blue $300 Prada dress.

"Hey, you naughty rich girl," Daddy whispers humorously in my left ear. "Jerking off to those hot blonde valkyries."

"I'm jerking off to

you

, daddy," I whisper back, clutching his right hand while flicking my bean with my own right hand. A moment later, a very naughty idea pops into my mind. I've always wanted to live out a famous scene from The Opening of Misty Beethoven, and this is my big chance!

"Hey, let's sneak out of here," I whisper eagerly to Roger.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, I'll show you."

"But the best part of the whole opera is coming right up."

"You got

that

right," I utter seductively. I literally yank him out of his seat and lead him by the hand through a red velvet curtain and down an empty brass-lined hallway with idyllic 1860's paintings of Odin, Thor, and Loki.

"I want my birthday present

now

, Daddy."

I turn right and open a door with a stick figure person wearing half a pair of pants and half a skirt. "Gender inclusive" restrooms have made public sex so much easier for everyone, straight or bent.

"Are you fucking serious, blondie?"

I answer his question by shoving his back against a tile wall and kissing him hard. His reluctance quickly fades, and his tongue invades my mouth like a battering ram through the gates of Asgard. His huge cock presses hard against my flat yoga-toned abs while the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra plays the thunderous iconic "Ride of The Valkyries."

"I'm so fucking horny, Mister Keofferam. I want to live out that Rome opera scene from Misty Beethoven."

"Oh my god, I've been dreaming about that too," he groans, squeezing my ass with both hands. "But that Roman orchestra was playing the William Tell Overture."

"Wagner makes a better soundtrack for blowjobs."

I drop right to my knees on the hard tile floor and fish that huge trout out of his fancy trousers. I shove it deep in my mouth, gagging right away. Just like frisky Misty going down on Dr. Seymour Love in a bathroom at the Teatro dell'Opera di Roma.

"Ohhhh

fuuuuuuck

," Daddy groans toward a mini chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Gazing incredulously toward the night sky above the Wiener Staatsoper while ten valkyries soar over the nearby stage. "We're missing the best part of that overrated opera, but I don't give a shit."

"Mmm-

hmmm

," I groan loudly on his nine inch bratwurst.

"Damn, I missed your great sloppy hummers. And your tight teen pussy."

I pulled back abruptly, ejecting his penis with funny popsicle

poof!

sound. "Have you banged any other girls while I was at Oxford?"

"Just my secretary, Anne Hathaway. I've been fucking her on my desk at 30 Rock, just like I fucked you. But it's not nearly as fun."

"Holy

shit

," I giggle deliriously. Daddy grabs my head with both hands and shoves his schlong back into my mouth. Face-fucking me fast and hard, gagging me over and over.

"You're the best bitch I ever banged, blondie," he growls fiercely. "Daddy's little debutante, making a grand entrance on her knees."

I gladly take Roger's rough treatment, jacking my clit in harmony to his aggressive allegro tempo. I needed his skillful domination like oxygen.

"Are you gonna be my loyal servant for the rest of spring break? Doing everything I fucking say?"

"

Uh-huh!

"

"Good

girl

," he growls, gagging me even more. Long ropes of spittle ooze down on my fancy blue dress. The danger of getting caught raises the thrill factor to the Nth degree.

"You know why most people have sexual problems, Katie? Because they talk too damn much," he growls, borrowing a clever line from Misty B. He grabs my blonde bangs and uses them as a handle, whipping my face back and forth against his hairy ballsack.

"

Fuuuuuuuuck

," he growls gutturally, letting go and pulling back. I catch my breath with loud ecstatic gasps. "Are you still keeping those pink fuzzy cuffs in your purse?"

"Fuck yeah, daddy."

"Get 'em out, and get naked. I'm treating you like Siegfried's sex slave."

"Yes sir, Mister Keofferam," I beam sweetly, lifting my dress over my head. Nothing underneath, of course.

"Jesus Christ, you're even hotter than I remember," he groans, ogling my pale perky d-cups with pointy pink nipples, wide toned child-bearing hips, and blonde curly pubic hair.

"I've been hitting the Oxford Fitness Centre real hard," I giggle while whipping those novelty BDSM handcuffs out of my purse. Good thing this is the best part of Die Walkure, with no one else in the opera house daring to take a bathroom break. Daddy shoves my hands behind my back and binds the cuffs to my wrists, then he drags me over to a private stall and digs through my purse, pulling out a red rubber ball gag.

"Crazy kinky freak, carrying a big arsenal around for public perversion. I better silence your dirty tongue."

He jams that rubber ball through my teeth and fastens the black strap around the back of my head. Then he sits down on the toilet, patting his firm white thighs with both hands.

"Get that tight teen pussy on daddy's big dick. I know you fucking

want

it."

"Hooo-foo-fuuuh," I agree incoherently, obeying his order just like I've obeyed every order he's given me ever since I was a spoiled toddler in crazy rich Greenwich. I mount him like a classical Bavarian cowgirl on that twenty-first century toilet, groaning harshly as his massive manhood stretches my barely legal labia. Bigger than any British cock I've taken so far.

"Giddy-up, slutty valkyrie! Ride me all the way to Valhalla!"

I bounce frantically up and down, smacking my ass cheeks steadily on his hard hips. Sex with Daddy is just as good as I remember, but twice as fun in public. Daddy smacks my big titties like boxing bags, and my entire body surges with incredible kinky pleasure. Meanwhile, Wagner's strong female valkyries sing loud and proud while carrying slain military heroes to paradise at Valhalla:

"Reitet mit den walküren über das schlachtfeld.

Reitet auf euren pferden und kommt zu mir.

Ich warte darauf, dass ihr meine seele hoch in den himmel nach Walhall tragt.

Walküren, reitet über das schlachtfeld.

Ich sterbe und blute gern.

Denn ich weiß, dass ich heute meinen platz bei den Helden einnehmen werde.

Im Walhall der vergangenheit."

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum so hard! Get down on your fucking knees!"

"Oowuh phuguff," I garble obediently, dropping down on the hard gender-inclusive tile floor. Daddy grabs my blonde hair and yanks my face way up toward the ceiling, growling fiercely while masturbating frantically.

"In den Hallen Walhalls nehme ich endlich meinen platz ein.

Mit schwert und schild betrete ich Odins reich.

Ich bin nun ein unsterblicher geist mit einem herzen aus stahl.

Mit den Göttern in der höhe werde ich ewig leben und über die ängste der menschen

lachen!

"

"

Blast off!

" Daddy groans like Seymour. A big wad of hot splooge blasts my left cheek, making me groan triumphantly. That soothing cream keeps spurting and spurting, literally plastering my entire face and lots of blonde hair around it. He obviously hasn't masturbated or had sex with anyone for a while, saving up to make my nineteenth birthday present truly spectacular. I wish my mouth wasn't gagged so I could taste that big bitter reward.

"Oh

fuuuuck

, you goddamn classical

skank!

"

"Huh-huh-

huh

," I giggle through the red rubber ball. He keeps jerking long after his glands are drained, neither of us wanting this crazy scene to end. I picture Brünnhilde's pretty Bavarian face saturated with Siegmund's spunk, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

"Damn, you dirty high-class

ho

. Look at all that gack on your face and hair. I better flush it off."

Roger spins me around, then he grabs my head with both hands and dunks it underwater in the toilet bowl. Holy shit! I scream bubbles through the gag, incredibly exhilarated. The Wagnerian orchestra is oddly muffled by the cold Vienna water. Daddy flushes the loo while laughing like a cliché opera villain. Cold water rushes all around my head as he pulls it out of the bowl. I laugh even louder through the wet rubber ball.