Gerlinde rests like a puddle after a tropical rain.  She knows only few things, and they are vast and saturating:  She is moistly warm.  She is full of tastes and scents that have a keen, essential appetite in her yawning in contentment.  She is snug around a soft and restlessly radiant little body.  She is breathing in musical time.  She is leaking.<br/><br/>Gerlinde feels the fine sensation of a tender slit of flesh, leaking caulk thick wet into the smallest of spaces.  And she feels that space kiss - pluck at the slit, suckle deep around the shaft of Gerlinde's penis, tug lustrous and silky all the way to the base of her belly.  That space is so small in its seamlessness, so hot in its trembling; Gerlinde feels she stretches it so huge.  And the space kisses, kisses, kisses, in time with the heartbeat rolling against her achingly raw nipples.  That kissing, insistent as a bird's singing just beyond the film of sleep, is what wakes a murmur from Gerlinde.<br/><br/>"Lisle kitty." Gerlinde says.  The words are a mutter; her lips are pressed on a smooth, bent neck, and her tongue is heavy with skin and sex taste.  That salty cream summons a pulse to her implanted penis - the pulse is wide as a bull as it forces up the branch of Gerlinde's cock, straining the sheath around it to a fresh convulsion.  As the sheath tenses to a wet limit, Gerlinde rubs her nose against that smooth bent neck, and pets the hair on the head atop it.<br/><br/>"Lisle."<br/><br/>Another word, another pulse like a mattress spring coiling.  Consciousness began to crack full through Gerlinde.  It spread from the finer points - the irritated tips of her nipples, the feel of her fingernails denting Lisle pussy's skin, the brush of her own hair on her back, the band of her cap, the cock.  And the cock felt as though it had never been wider, a fence post inside the strain of Lisle kitty's pussy.  Gerlinde breathed deep of these fine, stirring sensations and opened her eyes.<br/><br/>She was still in her apartment.  Still in the warm redoubt in the middle of the frost and ash of the Stalag.  Still a doctor of the Reich, still vaguely sick, still tired in her bones in a way that even the melting couldn't entirely wash away.  But she did not feel worried.  Nothing tightened its wires in her back and nothing prodded at her mind.  She felt only the toasty wriggle of the pliant body in her arms.  Felt the flutter and trembles wracking through that body.  Felt that body split open around her wide penis, open to spastic strain, and kissing in gratitude.<br/><br/>"Mm."  The sound was more another sugared murmur than a moan of appreciation.  Her testicles repeated it in their subterranean way, pulsing out contented globules of semen to march up her penis and leak into the over-stretched Lisle puss.  Gerlinde felt the fragile delight of that feeling - this moment - and caught it with a peck of her lips on Lisle kitty's brow.  "I could spend all day like this."<br/><br/>Saying so brought another fine sensation to mind:  The fibrous clasp of Lisle kitty's anus, as the muscle bore impatiently down on the tip of her finger.  Without the wildness of coupling, the wrinkled clamp was felt with every pulpy inner muscle in relief, every crease and every clutch.  Gerlinde found Lisle kitty's eyes.  Only then did she begin to pull her finger out, slow and steady.<br/><br/>She wanted to see what was in those eyes when the most tender of violations became careful tenderness - what Lisle kitty felt as she was touched there, and soothed in the extrusion, and finally freed of the finger.  Some urge in Gerlinde needed to see the kitty at her most open.  She knew why instantly, looking into Lisle kitty - the peace she was feeling was not hard, not like the peace enjoyed at the summit of power, but it was not fragile either.  Gerlinde felt both tender and invincible.<br/><br/>