- Dad you have no heart! - Bertie shrieked and flooded her legs, straight, like a sickened child. - No heart! No heart!

- Daughter, what are you talking about?

- And what else to say if you forbid me to help these people!

Franz Von Kluichenbach frowned, his reddish eyebrows raised.

“I already told you this is dangerous.” Among migrant refugees may be terrorists. This was reported in the news.

- These are poor unfortunate people! Cried Bertie. - What other terrorists! Only Nazis can talk about them! Only racists!

“I understand that you are concerned about the fate of all these unfortunates who left their countries because of the wars,” said Franz von Kluhenbach, trying to keep calm and looking at his daughter, almost pleadingly. - I myself am very sorry for them. Didn't I order to allocate a lot of money from the city budget to help them? Didn't I order to arrange a tent city and provide food and other assistance?

“Yes, but other burgomasters are taking these measures,” Bertie snorted. - It is, everything, as it is formal, without soul and true sympathy. Refugees need more. These measures are not enough.

“But what you want is too much!” - outraged Franz von Kluhenbach. - It is necessary to think of this: let them live in our house!

- Yes, just something, a few people! Exclaimed Bertie.

- Never! What about mom? How do you?

- What about mom? And what am I? - The girl looked at Franz Von Kluchenbach with bewilderment and sincere surprise.

- What is it like ?! - the burgomaster was indignant and puffed. - At home you used to pacing ... freely, often in underwear. We are used to a certain order. And then there will be several young men nearby!

- So what?! Exclaimed Bertie.

- So you will be walking in front of them in nighties, in shorts and bras?

“Well, not that ...,” muttered Bertie, who was somewhat taken aback. - I'm not walking naked. And they are not savages, any.

“Judging from their news behavior, you can't say that,” muttered Franz.

- What?

- Nothing. The conversation is over.

- But dad!

- I said, Albertina - the conversation is over. Migrants will live in a tent camp until the order of our government.

- Then ... Then I and the girls will go there! Help them! - blurted out her daughter.

- Yes, no way! It is unacceptable! Are those girls your girlfriends?

“Well, yes, Anette and Gretta.”

- They, too, think so, how are you?

“We all think so,” Bertie replied in a particularly solemn tone. - We even want to create a youth organization to help refugees. Here in Germany they must feel not only warmth and cordiality, but also the fact that they are loved, ready to accept with all their soul and body ... oh ... I wanted to say ... I wanted ... In general, these people need help.

For a few moments the burgomaster Berty stared at Bertie, then said:

- No walking to the camp. Clear? The police will be there. And you will be arrested, despite the fact that you are my daughter.

- But dad!

- I said everything! Let Anette and Gretta do as they please — this is, after all, the concern of their parents. And you will stay at home. So far, this situation is not resolved with the refugees. Without my knowledge, not a single step to the street.

“But Dad, the holidays have begun!” - Berty whined.

- Nothing be patient. You play at the computer, communicate through the Internet. Any book, in the end you read. Out on the street - only with my permission. And forget to think about migrants. About them, and without you there is someone to take care of.

- You're a tyrant! Angry heartless tyrant!

Tears poured from Bertie's eyes into two streams. She only recently turned eighteen, and she perceived every offense as a child.

Franz's heart trembled, but he gathered himself, squeezed his will into a fist and did not give up the slack.

“Go to your room.” I'm going to the town hall for business. In the evening, once again talk about everything calmly.

* * *

The house of the burgomaster is a large two-storey one with an attic. Surrounded by a garden.Standing on a hill overlooking the city with a magnificent view. Bertie has her own typical room for a high school girl - comfortable with all the girlish little bells and whistles. Color ottomans and pillows on the couch, ryushechki on the curtains. The walls are covered with posters with your favorite artists and actors. And on one wall remained greetings from childhood - poster with Disney heroes. In abundance of soft toys. Bertie's san node was separate and connected to her room. On the floor awesome red carpet with a soft thick pile. All neatly neatly. Order in the house helped keep the housekeeper from somewhere in the Baltic States or Poland. Not far from the bed there was a mirror with a mirror.

Bertie loved to admire herself. She undressed and looked at herself in the mirror for a couple of minutes. She was short, slim and flexible. Engaged in fitness. Small tight breasts wonderful round shape. Slim waist, sharp bend of the hips and a convex tight ass. Legs long and slender. I noticed pubic bristles. Do not order - you need to shave. Rolling her hair the color of golden wheat in a tight knot, Bertie went into the shower.

Warm water aroused her, also pussy was disturbed by all these manipulations with tamping. Bertie began to think about her boyfriend. His name was Khalil. The folder would have gone berserk after seeing it. Khalil was from Libya. It mixes Arab and Negro blood. Bertie just flowed with only the presence of this male.

Khalil was wild, brash and mad. This temperament drove the girl crazy. Khalil, he even wanted to declare to Bertie’s father and directly tell him of his rights to his daughter, as he liked to express himself. On the marriage, however, until the speech did not go, but Khalil hoped to live openly with the burgomaster's daughter in their house.

And what, really, how much can you hang around on the outskirts of the city in this stinking hole called social housing, when your girlfriend has a luxurious mansion with a pool, two garages and so on and so forth. It would be nice for relatives to move there. But first you need to stake out the territory itself.

Bertie, anticipating a grand scandal, persuaded her lover to wait. Father should gradually prepare for a meeting with her beloved man.

Khalil also had a friend - Mohmed. Bertie liked him too. The same cool and brave. Ideally, the girl would like to live with both of them at once. More than once, she imagined how the three of them lay in bed, how the dark hands of men caress her, slip over her white skin, grab the gold of her hair, how their dark brown members with penetrating veins penetrate her.

But this was hardly feasible. First, Mohmed met with her sister. Secondly, Bertie was afraid that Khalil would not understand her and would not want to share his girlfriend, even with her closest friend. Surely jealous. After all, he made it clear more than once that he considered her to be her property.

Bertie herself was humorous about this. She - and suddenly someone's property is ridiculous. Well, if Khalil likes to think so, please. Although, most likely, it is he who is not serious, but just makes a fool of himself, playing the eastern tyrant in front of her. Such a game she even liked - sexually excited. And when he was hot in her ear whispering something like: “you are mine”, “I am your master”, “I am your master, and you are my bitch”, Bertie was all miserable and aroused to the state when soberly thinking could

Everything will fall into place when they get married. By that time, Bertie will receive a higher education, and thanks to her, Khalil will enter the respected German secular society and become a full member of the middle-class well-to-do — a well-bred and respectable person who loves and respects his wife.

Coming out of the bathroom, Bertie began to blow-dry her hair. The cell phone rang. It was Anette.

- Hello.

- Hello. What's the matter? The voice is scared.

- You have no idea what happened!

- What?

- I offered my father to lodge several migrants with us. So he came into a rage. Called ...

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