Lotte S
Memoirs
Chapter 1
Monday-Sanchez' Day. The waves rose and fell gently. With her eyes closed Lotte imagined herself on the desk of a cabin cruiser in the middle of a quietly rolling sea. Except this was better. Instead of lying on a hard wooden deck she was floating on the soft waves themselves. Every inch of her naked flesh was caressed by the warm undulations, the endless ebb and flow of the waterbed's captive and personal tide.
The specially made waterbed-twelve feet in diameter and "passionate" purple in color-was Lotte's most persistent lover. It never tired of trying to satisfy her with its infinite variety of intimate touches. Wanting to change the direction of the tidal flow, she merely arched her back and pressed her heels into the cushion of water. Immediately she felt the caressing movement against her buttocks and the swell of the wave as it moved up her spine. By the time it reached her back it seemed enormous, lifting her head and shoulders high in the air. Even before it passed she could feel the second wave rocking her buttocks and rolling larger and larger toward her shoulder blades.
The waves continued endlessly, rocking her body, massaging her muscles, raising her high above the surface of the bed. At the crest of the waves she was almost in a sitting position and could dig her fingers even farther inside her cunt, clawing at the velvet walls and releasing the wonderful juices that Sanchez loved so much.
"Vunderbar!" Lotte cried in exaltation. "Oh, you vunderful vaterbed! I luf you!"
Minutes later, with the sea calm beneath her and the turbulent excitement of her body relaxing once more into its soft, delicate contours, Lotte languidly raised the lid of one eye and peeked at the wall clock. Ten minutes before six in the evening. Sanchez would be arriving for dinner in a few minutes. But there was no need to rouse herself from her comfortable position. Everything was prepared. Sanchez had been eating dinner with her on Mondays for some time now and she knew precisely how to satisfy his healthy Mexican appetite.
Learning to cook for Sanchez had been no easy task. In Germany where she grew up she had never tasted Mexican food. Being a provincial country girl, it had not occurred to her that people in other countries ate anything except the same kraut and weiners and salted pork that made up her daily menu.
Fortunately, she was not destined to remain provincial. She was only seventeen when a handsome tourist coaxed her down onto one of her father's haystacks and broke her virginal bond with German provincialism. She would always remember that moment as the most glorious of her life. When he gently spread her thighs apart, it was as though he opened the world for her. The gift of his throbbing cock inside her innocent body was the gift of life itself.
Not until after they were married did Lotte realize that the handsome American tourist was also rich. They toured Europe for almost a year before Edward brought her home to New York, and by then she was no longer an innocent young country girl. She had dined with royalty, slept in the finest hotels of the world, learned to drape her body with the most exquisite fashions. She had experienced the ways of physical love that few women ever dare. Edward had taught her to be a lady in public-and a woman in bed.
Since she had never given her body to any man but her husband, perhaps she did not realize how truly remarkable his sexual perfection was. Not then, anyway. She knew only that every moment touching his body was a moment spent in heaven. She loved him as she could love no other man.