The Flap in the Door

With a big "Thank you" to Kenjisato for his fine and very helpful editing.

This is a re-imagining of Uemlaut's "Die Klappe in der Tür".

I attempted to contact the original author several times within 6 weeks to get her/his permission but received no response.

Of course, all the credit for the idea and structure goes to Uemlaut.

Since English is not my native language, I ask for a little understanding if not every expression/punctuation mark is correct.

This story is about non-consensual and interracial sex. Among other things, a black man has sex with a white married woman. If you don't like this kind of story, please read another one.

Once upon a time in the countryside of Germany, when parcel service was not always in such a hurry as nowadays....

Lisa Berger arrived at her new home, a family home in a rural area, a little earlier than usual this Friday afternoon. With no neighbor closer than 500 meter and the dense planting of their large garden made the house a provincial idyll.

The children were with their grandparents from Friday to Sunday and her husband had already told her that he would be late because of a professional meeting he needed to attend in a distant town.

She parked the car in front of the house. As soon as she stood before the front door, she realized that she had given her front door key to the children. Her husband was out of reach and a spare key was not in sight.

How annoying!

She was still wearing a short office skirt and high heeled shoes. She was looking forward to finally peeling out of the admittedly very attractive, but also very uncomfortable clothes and shoes; to leisurely enjoy the weekend in comfortable clothes on the terrace, soaking in the sunshine and mild temperatures.

The house they had been living in for about half a year was very nice, but still very tailored to the needs of the previous owners. In the back, facing away from the driveway, and for safety reasons not visible from the outside, was the back door to the kitchen, which had a large dog flap or 'doggie door' at the bottom.

Lisa was a medium-height woman, 170 cm tall, in her mid-forties - a little beyond her prime - but still a very attractive sight. She had an expressive, distinctive face; with a slightly wide mouth and full lips; large gray-green eyes that could look at you, so that you got weak in the knees.

Her slightly wavy, dark hair, was usually tucked up, emphasizing her elegant neck. Her good-sized, C-cup breasts were perfect to look at. Her not-too-narrow waist turned into comfortable hips which then melted into her ass -- a world-class ass - swirl, round, heart-shaped in exactly the right size. With her silky-soft skin (as on her entire body), it was an invitation to gently caress it, to massage it heartily or even to give it a proper spank.

Beautiful straight long legs and in between them, her treasure, her pussy.

Colleagues from her professional environment were constantly making not-so-professional advances - even without any particular flirting behavior on her part.

Not only professionally, but also privately, she had a pragmatic approach to things that bothered her or posed problems. Consequently, even in this situation, she decided to do things herself and not wait for help. A visit to her friend was of course possible, but would be associated with a long car ride, especially with Friday stop-and-go traffic.

She walked through the garden path to the back of the house, put her handbag aside and took off the chic gray blazer and pumps. She knelt down, careful not to touch the paved ground with the fine white silk blouse and skirt.

She lifted the dog flap, which seemed wide and high enough and tried to push herself through, on her hands and tiptoes as if she were doing push-ups.

It quickly became apparent, that she had to stretch her arms forward to be able to push her narrow shoulders through. But, that also meant pushing herself forward on the ground.

While her skirt was a cheap, waist-high specimen, she did not want to ruin the sinfully expensive silk blouse. She unbuttoned button by button and took off the blouse, her attractive breasts with delicate pink-brown nipples were barely covered by the white-lace bra.

Again and again, she turned around and made sure that she could not be seen by anyone. No, no chance - the garden was so densely overgrown. The few people who got lost in this area would not be able to look through the thicket.

And even if the bra was almost as expensive as the blouse, she didn't want to go so far as to take it off. She carefully placed the blouse with the blazer and the pumps on the ground nearby, lifted the dog flap all the way to the top, where it remained quite locked and stretched out her arms to push herself forward.

Although surprisingly tight, her shoulders fit through the flap. She pushed forward cautiously and was already able to look at the familiar kitchen from a completely new perspective, when her hips prevented further progress. She turned so that her hips would probably fit through the diagonal of the flap but that was not possible, either.

She looked to get her hands on something tangible to hold onto and pull through, but there was not much available.

Next to the door, barely accessible to her, was a heavy chair that finally might give her a foothold. She grabbed the massive wooden legs of the chair with her delicate hands and pulled. In fact, she dragged herself a few inches further into the kitchen, but just when she believed that this was the solution to her problem, the chair's adhesion gave way, and she instead, pulled it to herself on the tiled floor.

That might not have been the problem, had not the large drying rack, which she had used in the garden yesterday, been leaning on the other side of the chair.

With a lot of noise, it slipped off the chair and fell on her.

The drying rack was designed as a folding frame and because of its considerable weight, had knocked over the chair at the same time. Both lay tangled in each other. The backrest of the chair hit her painfully on the head, and the drying rack and the heavy chair now laid on top of her.

She was stuck, she was trapped.

It took her a while to realize her predicament. Again and again, she tried to lift her upper body and push it backwards, out of the flap. But it was as if the drying rack with the weight of the chair sat on her like a clamp.

She simply lacked the strength to lift the tangled mess up or away.

The situation looked strange - her upper body was pressed inside the house on the cool, tiled floor of the kitchen and her lower body waist down, was still outside. It took some minutes and countless attempts to free herself, until she realized that she couldn't get out on her own - neither forward into the kitchen, nor backwards, back into the garden.

Not even the 'structure' on top of her upper body could be moved from the spot.

Despite the mild temperatures this September afternoon, she began to get chilled, as her almost-bare torso was pressed onto those cold kitchen tiles and her legs were splayed outside on the pavement.

She decided to press her waist as far away as possible from the floor, so that she at least did not have to lie with her legs lengthwise on the cool ground. She just managed to kneel, so that her legs would not get even colder.

In the overall view, she knelt with her ass raised and had her upper body on the floor with a deep hollow cross, her back arched in the air.

She cursed her situation and wondered how much ridicule she would have to endure from her husband, Mark, if only he finally came home.

The cell phone was out of reach along with the bag and she thought that shouting was pointless - the neighbors were far too far away to hear, there would be no one to help her.

After a good half hour of pondering and waiting, her bladder slowly and agonizingly began to report.

Desperately, she thought about how she could empty herself without getting wet after all, her husband had said that he would be back later in the evening, and it was afternoon now.

In the worst case, she would have to spend several hours in this position. She decided to choose the easiest way, and tried to put her right arm under herself, as the left one was absolutely blocked by the frame and the chair.

To look under herself was impossible.

She reached between her legs and pushed her simple, white cotton briefs to the side.

Cool air played around her pretty and unshaven, but-not-heavily-hairy pussy.

She had a slightly longer outer labia than many other women and the wind cooled her clitoris, which was always a bit protruding. She spread her legs as much as she could and released a carefully dosed jet, so that she would not wet her legs and skirt by splashing. The skirt still covered her butt, so she had to be very careful.

She cursed her situation again, and fervently hoped that she would not be found that way.

Finally, she had relieved herself and pushed the panties back as best it could be done, over her cunny again. With her hand, she dabbed off the last droplets with her panties.

Her pee had quickly seeped or evaporated into the joints of the paving stones, but her panties remained damp.

It was extremely uncomfortable, her knees hurt, but after some time, she began to doze and spent the time counting tiles or thinking about how to better furnish the kitchen.

It was maybe a little after four o'clock in the afternoon and the sun warmed her lavish, jacked-up buttocks, as she heard sounds, that she couldn't make out at first.

Two male voices, one of which was obviously of non-German origin.

Lisa did not recognize either of the voices, but was sure that they came from the men of the countless parcel services that delivered parcels to the house and her neighbors' houses.

She wondered at first, why they hadn't rung the bell. She should have heard it, but then realized that the bell had a wobbly contact and most times it only hummed.

She was just about to draw attention to her situation, when she heard a disturbing statement.

"Oh, look Samuel. This is the reason why I love my job, no matter how stressful it is. You experience situations, that you wouldn't have thought possible."

"Oh, boss... that ass is voluptuous, like that of women home in Nigeria."

"Oh yes, Sammy and looking like it's being eagerly presented to us."

Lisa couldn't believe her ears. "Don't dare to make fun of me. As you see I'm stuck. Help me out of here!" she shouted, with anger and anxiety.

"Now, now, don't get upset with us, young woman."

A little appeased, she lowered her voice and said, "I'm stuck and just can't get out of here. Please help me."

The German voice, obviously from a man who was already in the sixties, grabbed her by the ankles without being asked, and pulled her slender legs back and up.

Her upper body was pressed even harder to the ground by the sudden action. She felt his calloused and obviously large paws on her slender ankles and how they pulled them backwards with a strong jerk.

What her 'savior' could not see, was how she was wedged through the frame/chair construction and could practically only be freed by the removal of this construction.

"Good woman, you are stuck," the man noted finally, after some rough attempts. He put her back on her knees.

"Oh really?" Lisa replied laconically.

"But, boss, we have to help," was heard from Samuel, as his less-calloused hands drove up under her skirt, gripping her slender thighs.

Lisa gasped and was about to complain when she heard the older man.

"Hey, Samuel, that's not how we treat our wives."

"I just want to pull and hold on well," Samuel replied.

He pushed her skirt up to the place where her hips disappeared in the flap. This gave him the benefit of seeing her bottom encased in the white knickers and framed by the black straps of her suspenders and stocking tops. He was standing behind her now, obviously grabbing her thighs and pulling.

Again, no movement.

"I said I was stuck," Lisa shouted resignedly.

"Hhhmm, boss, have a look. The woman is horny; completely wet between her legs."

"It's not what you think!" Lisa shouted meekly, and very embarrassed by the misinterpretation because her panties were still wet from her pee.

Samuel and his boss whispered. She couldn't hear anything, but a few seconds later, in horror, she felt fingers on her panty-covered butt.

"Stop it! My husband is coming home at any moment," she lied.

The older man replied slightly amused and crude. "So, and how do you want to explain to him that wet cunt of yours?

Samuel go to the front and keep your eyes open. Warn me if someone's coming. I'll see how I can help this woman in need."

"Okay, boss," Samuel replied, and then she heard his footsteps moving away.

Otto Thiemann, the older parcel carrier, was a widower, 61 years old, reasonably fit, 174 cm tall, weighing 75 kg, wore a short gray bear, and he considered himself quite normal.

But this situation was not normal. He began to think of how much he would love to spank that fine ass and fuck this woman silly.

No, he would not miss this opportunity.

"So, young woman... then let's see what I can do for you," and he began to roll down her panties over her velvety thighs. He lifted her knees and then pulled the panties off.

"I hate to see such a fine woman in need."

"Hey! What are you doing? You pulled my underwear down, you bastard, you pervert!"

Her entire bare ass was completely visible now and jiggling in anger.

What an ass, magnificent, full, round and stretching towards him, perfectly positioned for an assault from behind. And between the swirling silky crescents, the hint of a mature, married pussy, certainly well used.

He could not see the front part of her body but was sure that Frau Berger (the name was on the parcel), would certainly have beautiful plump tits.

Thoughts circled in his head. How should he proceed?

He made a decision. He would play the offended and extremely angry man.

With feigned anger and a harsh voice, he drove at her.

"Sooo, so I'm a bastard, a pervert? And you, whose ass is in the air and having a wet pussy; you are telling me?

I haven't been insulted so much in my whole life. I will not stand for it; this must have consequences.

You will be punished for this tremendous insult. Same way I always punished my daughter when she became too cheeky. You know how? She got her naked bum spanked.

And that's exactly just what you're gonna get now, Frau Berger!"

"No, no! I don't want that. You can't do that!"

"Oh, yes, I can, and I will. I don't care what you want."

Lisa was then slightly panicked. The man's obvious anger had intimidated her.

Her head was close to the floor. She didn't have panties anymore, her ass protruded naked into the air; her feminine splendor was just in front of this man's eyes. She felt helpless, defenseless, humiliated and at his mercy.

And already his hand landed violently on her left ass cheek.

SMACK!

Lisa screamed "Aaaggghhh, stop this right now!" she cried, and sobbed at the pain shooting through her bottom, as she pressed her thighs tightly together.

He laughed. "Not so scary, we haven't really started yet."

But then his hand slapped more and more firmly on her bare skin for what seemed an eternity. The fleshy globes in front of him starting to turn a deeper shade of pink, while the thighs gyrated as though they had a mind of their own

Her bottom began to turn red, as it jiggled wildly in response to the solid smacks.

Sweat was now dripping from Otto's forehead and face onto Lisa's ass. He watched as his drops of sweat trickled slowly down her magnificent ass and were pulled by gravity into the crack separating her twin globes.

Her ass cheeks began to glow; again and again he struck—left, right, left, right—his

hands on her poor blank bottom.

She could only screech powerlessly, when her lush ass quickly turned from light pink to

deep red. The burning sensation on her skin quickly increased to what felt like a flaming

inferno, and eventually she could only whine and sob as her resistance was broken..

She was completely desperate.

Oh, that burning pain! How it spread on her butt, and also heated her abdomen. Her

bottom was a single blazing sea of flames. Lisa now learned what blood circulation can

do, her pussy was then well supplied with blood and began to tingle.

She screamed, moaned and whimpered, pleading for mercy.

Out of sheer pain, she had long since forgotten the intention to hide her gender, when

trying to avoid his blows or, at least, soften them; her legs often did not remain as

closed as she originally wanted. Her pussy looked out more and more frequently, and

more and more clearly. Lisa's legs were slightly open.

In his position, Otto had an excellent view of her honeypot and her asshole, which he

liked very much.

He pushed one of his legs between hers, forcing her thighs apart. His peek at her

showed the promise of two delicious pussy lips. Her legs held open just enough that her

body concealed no secrets with her buttocks presented to him invitingly, and Lisa's twat was completely exposed, and easily accessible. Her swollen mound was pointing directly at him.

And calculatingly, Otto gave her some slightly less-powerful, but well-targeted blows,

exactly on the rosette and on her twat. He slapped his hand on her pussy, and he could

hear Lisa's painful-yet-horny moaning. "Aahhhhhh..."

Otto had just slapped her pussy, sending a jolt of pleasure through her whole body.

He slapped her wet cunt again, making sure to hit her clit, causing her to scream out in ecstasy.

— That was too much! --

She felt not only the many hundreds of pinpricks on her butt, but also the many

butterflies in her stomach. A fire seemed to blaze in her abdomen. Slowly, it spread to

her entire body. Not only her strictly chastised, now-crimson-red ass burned like fire, but

also her pussy.

As her body was reacting to the hefty assaults, she hissed and bit her lip. A hot wave

formed in the depths of her abdomen. She fought all she could, but the moan she had

tried to suppress, still escaped her mouth.

Otto had achieved his goal—she was flooded with lust. She didn't want to, but her body

had become a traitor. Lisa felt her loins consumed by a scorching torrent of liquid fire.

She could feel her genitals getting wetter, as she began to release more female

lubricant. Her papaya became soaking wet, her labia opened, gaped apart. She felt her

moisture run down her labia, and she smelled her own scent, the scent of a woman in

heat.

Her pride and will were broken, even if she almost sank into the ground with shame. But

she could no longer defend herself and submitted to him. From that moment on, Lisa

was just his prey.

And suddenly, she was realizing the gravity of her situation. She was about to get

fucked.

After giving her one last pat, she felt the nails of his fingers rake slowly up her legs, he

spread the thighs further apart. Lisa lay whimpering, as her obviously aroused labia

were exposed. Otto was just helping himself to her body, not giving her any say. He

now placed a hand on Lisa's reddened ass and grabbed between her legs with his other big hand. He slid it on her brooch for examination, urging a probing finger between her dewy love lips.

The finger test satisfied him. The open labia and the dampness testified to her lust. His

fingers penetrated her lovely sex. And as his hand explored a little further, his fingers

felt how open and receptive her grotto of love had become.