Gerti's secrets have long been revealed, her closed doors are wide open, now she's dealt a few blows on her behind and back, that's how friends deal with each other, that way there's no mistake. The Direktor also drives the vehicle of his tongue in, who shall interpret that for us? A number of young village men have taken up their posts at the posterns of naked women and are hoping to be considered when posts are assigned. They want to collect but not pay. Their wives help them with their immortality and with the high mortality rate of their work. But the Direktor goes his own hot way alone. Everyone is familiar with his still youthful radiance. The woman, commingled with him in disorder, now has to put up with him in her arse, there may be any number of paths and some may be better surfaced too. While other people are at the mercy of disease, this lordandmaster is serving himself with equanimity at his usual counter, where his child came from too, right next door. No need to be afraid, his member is safe there. Now the excited animal goes for a trot in the woman where it has been taken in order to grow. It catches slightly in the chain it has torn loose, the calf. And so it stands stock still till it's shot down. The familiar trampling and traipsing has already worn the woman badly. Never mind, there's a good cream for everything and a cash present. Grease well and you get ahead better. And soon fresh greenery will be coming up for the man to pull out.
What a divine group, though soon they'll have to take a rest. Body to body, they are a threat to each other. Whimpering after a number of further slips, the Direktor collapses limp upon his wife, who was so well-appointed. He has reaped her high-yield region thoroughly, it has his recommendation, and now there won't be any fodder growing there in a hurry. His river shoots wrathfully out of him, and from the labourers who are presented to them on golden platters their gods and personnel bosses seize the share that is yours by force. Go on, choose the best from a wide assortment too, and see: you already have it at home, call it your better half and leave her doing the washing-up and scrubbing and sweating!
This time the Direktor is in valid order and his wife is satisfied. But tomorrow he may be running riot again, shooting from the hip and buying any ticket at all to who knows where. At least his wife is still protected and desired, though, there are so many paths to be taken, after all, to the theatre, a concert, a season ticket to the opera, opportunity enough to lick the thing which the Direktor reaches across with a whimper and wrap it up anew. Now he has turned her onto her back and is wagging about in her face. A thin thread of slobber dribbles down, and promptly the meatloaf and sauce is brought to the woman's lips, a soft tired suckling. Mmm, that's just perfect. She is requested to clean away what she has brought from the kitchen for presentation and thawing. First the banks, then the shaft, neat and tidy, all the tiny creases as well, after all there's a little driving still to be done today and we wouldn't want this quick-acting foam all over the upholstery. And then Gerti is expected to kiss the hairy scrotum, mind your eyes. As if he were stripping a snake, the Direktor rips the dress off his wife with a single tear, though at the same time whispering that tomorrow she will get two new ones to replace it. The dress is forcefully pulled apart at the front. Gerti's body is kissed from a convenient height and then belted into the seat again, where it remains caught, returning none of the looks bestowed on it. The Direktor goes on to rip Gerti's petticoat too, exposing her entire dilapidated facade; soon, albeit outside, beyond the battered attache cases, pleasant green will be appearing, one or two months of the yoke still to go! Let the airstream and the one or two stray people returning home take a look at the building if they want, in the warm shadows of which the Direktor has been sporting. The woman does not resemble any film actress, at least none I know of. It is quiet. Michael peers out of the window and makes an effort to grow once again in order to make the most and best of himself. Not everyone has a handsome member to amuse himself with. The Direktor is faithful by nature, that's how it should be. We are the hearth of the household and warm the lordsandmasters if necessary.
The young man, thinking of the countless friends whom he will make the repositories of his adventure, steps under the too needling waterjet of the shower. His senses are all present and stretch out on the floor like dogs lying down to sleep on their appointed blankets. Perhaps his girlfriend will stop by later on, while outside the oppressed take by force what has been granted them. Thus long he has deigned to watch a woman advancing in years, and thus long will he rest, a child of the world. I think he will even still be asleep tomorrow morning when the people who live in these houses trample each other to death in the bus and riotously batter each other about the head with their belongings.
As if by changing cars they had changed lives, the Direktor and his wife drive home together, one under the protection of the other, tossing from one position in life to the next. These people can fuck fearlessly anywhere at all, whatever they do is always put right again by love and their dear cleaning ladies. The employees are at rest, presently the jangle of their alarms will raise them aloft. Silently the car sweeps the flatland clean. The mountains stand in silence, till tomorrow the sun is again portioned out by the tourist office rep, to delight the sporting folk. And so the directorial couple return home on their great raft, along the federal highway in accordance with all the regulations and at a moderate speed. For a brief while the two of them took hold on their bodies to fill up with fuel, the springs were bubbling up all around them, right, the rich tank up new energy as often as they wish. In the little houses silence reigns, because the people there have to count out the money for petrol first. At most it's violence that reigns, till tomorrow they are under someone else's control again at the factory, these sons from petty homes, and their wives wade by day through the puddles of the powerful sex. Love comes fruity and fresh in its carton, but what does it become inside us?
The toil of the sexes, accomplished today by the Direktor and the Frau Direktor, has made them blossom with a shudder, only to wipe their mouths afterwards as if after a meal wolfed greedily down; and it may be but is not definitely finished for today. Till we meet again tomorrow in the radiant light from the mail van's headlamps, so early, when it's still dark, not to mention the years ahead! Nothing but those lights caresses the wretched bodies shamelessly confronting us in all their morning stench and exhaust fumes. But just think of the lottery tickets their thoughts are always dwelling on! One has to be able to take it as well as deal it out.
The Direktor stammers managerial, loving words, he announces himself and his programme, this private individual. Already he is in his element again: money. What would he be without his wife, as he insists on calling her. Jovially he embraces her with the arm he's not steering with, taking her body and doing some steering there at least. Like a warm tame animal the mountains lounge above him, he has already sheered them quite bald. They have left the superfluous car standing, put to sleep and locked up like their child. Let's face it, all they were thinking of was jolly sex. The woman can now go shopping for the kind of commodities that suit a woman. Now speculations are made concerning the next day and what it might bring. The Direktor describes the many and various ways in which he is going to screw his wife later and in the days ahead. He needs trouble up top, in the office, if his prick down below is to be satisfied and taken captive by the woman. Perhaps the woman will like something special which she will follow blindly on her shopping spree tomorrow? This man: the unwavering star of his wife will shine above him till tomorrow morning, he nuzzles tenderly at her throat, keep your eyes on the road, don't look away! The droplets fly from the man, sweat and sperm, which makes him no less, no slighter, no smaller. Smilingly he prays to his wife, whom he has held under his jet. His fleshy testicles sit still on their stringy stalk. What a relief, to go out into the spell of night, if one doesn't have to hurry out into the morning dark, one amongst many, dazzled by the kitchen light. If the fire is burning within one, and another, larger one is burning in the engine. Cleansed and renewed, the Direktor will presently be getting into bed again with his Gerti and making his territorial mark on her bush, no one cocks a leg faster than he does. Maybe the two of them will once again be flooded by the muted cry of their bodies wanting food, who knows? The woman tries to fasten her dress at her breast, the cold is scourging her. But the man demands that she provide a little more entertainment for him and the people who live in those parts in their little domestic limbos, please, Brigitte, I mean, Gerti. The dress, which is covering her now, he parts wide open again, she hasn't quite gone out yet, hasn't Gerti, I'm pretty sure there's still a glimmer in the ashes. The heating hasn't properly warmed up yet, but the man has. He is fast off the mark, on his chin he has a fingernail scratch dealt by Gerti. Not a single walker comes their way, to flower a little with an acquaintance outside the house. No one is out and about any more to witness the brand of power on the forehead of the factory Direktor. And so he at least has to stamp his mark on his wife, to show that she has paid to go in and really did bravely go out in the open from the warmth of her sex. In the kitchens of the poor, only the stove is kept alight.