WARNING: This story contains sexually explicit parts involving sex between minors and adults. Do not read the contents if it will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws (village, town, city, county, province, state, or country, etc.), please leave now.


Any characters portrayed in this story are fictional and not representative of anyone living or dead.


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The Angel of Pie Jesu.

By John T. S. Teller.

Book one Star in the Hood.

Part 20.


We've not travelled more than ten minutes before Gareth tells us we're in Charlottenburg and almost to his apartment. I feel myself becoming nervous. I've day-dreamed about this place. We're on a wide street, and Gareth pulls the car over and stops. He looks at me, and grins. Then he points a finger over his shoulder. I have to lower myself in the car to see what he's pointing at. Behind him is an almost new, tall brick wall with sturdy ornamental iron gates painted black and gold, and behind the gate is a block of apartments that I can't even see the top of.

Gottwin is better placed than me, because he has the whole of the back seat to get down to see them, and I hear him say, "Wow! Is that where you live?"

Gareth smiles. "Yes. I hope you two aren't afraid of heights."

I can't resist getting a better view, so I unbuckle my seat belt and lie across Gareth to look at the whole of the building. Whenever I've asked him searching questions about where he lived, he's always just said, `In a block of apartments'. He was right, but these are an ultra-modern block of apartments that look as if they're all glass. I ask him, "What do you mean; I hope we're not afraid of heights?"

Gareth says nothing. He pushes me back, tells me to fasten my seat belt, drives off along the street, turns the car at a roundabout, and when we're approaching the apartments down the other side of the street, he takes a remote control from a small parcel-shelf and presses a button on it. I know what it's for when we get to the large iron gates and they're swinging slowly open. He turns the car in through the gates, and parks it in a bay that has a number 20, and his name on a board, in front of us. "Get your stuff boys."

When we've got everything we need from the car, Gareth leads us to a large door. He swipes a card through a barcode scanner, the door opens automatically, and he leads us into a large vestibule that has two lifts at the end of it. He tells me to press the `up' button. As soon as I do, the doors of one of one of the lifts slides quietly open, and we go in.

Gareth hides the buttons that display the numbers, and he presses one. The doors slowly close, and the lift gives an almost imperceptible jerk as it begins its way up. Gareth lolls in a corner of the lift, crosses his arms, and grins at us. Gottwin and I are giggling, more in nervousness than anything. I watch the numbers on the diode screen as they appear. 1 through to 10-11-12-13-14-15... and our eyes are widening. 16-17-18-19-20... and the lift comes to a halt. Only a `Service' button is left. I look at Gareth, and say, "You live on the top floor!"

He grins as the doors slide open. "I did ask you if you were afraid of heights. You'd better not be!"

We're now in a small vestibule with just one exit door. Again Gareth swipes the card into a barcode scanner, and the door opens automatically to reveal a hallway, well-lit by chromium lamps that run down each side of place. The walls are grey; the carpet is grey, and even the ceiling has a silver tint to it. But the place is not dull. Covering the walls are many abstract paintings, and every one of them are painted in bright, brilliant colours. The contrast between the grey of the vestibule and the paintings is startling. I stare at them, open mouthed. I go to one and run my fingers along the glass, and I ask, "Who's the painter?"

Gareth smiles at me. "Do you like them?"

I nod. "They're beautiful. Who painted them?"

Gareth comes to me, puts his hand on my shoulder, and studies the painting. "This is a copy of August Macke's Tree in the Cornfield." He points to some others. "Fashion Shop. Garden Gate. Woman in a Green Jacket. I love his paintings. Come on, let's go in. You can study them later." He looks at Gottwin, who's also gob-smacked by the place, and points to the door at the end of the hallway. "Take your shoes off and go on in!"

Like the vestibule, the lights come on as we enter, and I feel a shiver run through me as I step onto the thick-pile, steely-greyish blue carpet that my feet sink into, and into the room that Gareth sent me the picture of. The same fabulous glass table; the same furniture; the same colours, but the picture he sent didn't show me the two metre square, absolutely fabulous painting occupying the main wall opposite the entrance door. Never in all my life have I seen anything so strikingly colourful. Even Gottwin is struck by it, and he stands by my side as we stare at it bathed in the light from four, strategically placed, low-glow, orange tinted wall lights above it.

Gareth comes to us, and again his hands are on our shoulders. "Red House in a Park. Macke painted it in 1914, just before he was killed in the Great War. It's my favourite. I love the colours; do you?"

Gottwin answers him. "Yes. I didn't realise there were such beautiful colours. The reds are fantastic. Is it the real thing?"

Gareth turns away, holding the large bundle of mail he collected when we entered the vestibule. "No, they're all copies done by one of the best copyists in the world; a friend of mine; Raul. Even experts can't tell them from the real thing unless they use modern technology to study the paints. You boys look around. Go where you want while I look at my mail."

I look at him with a grin on my face. "Anywhere?"

He giggles as he sorts through his mail, and he doesn't look at me when he says, "Anywhere. The lights will come on wherever you go, so don't bother with the switches. My underpants are in the drawers in the wardrobe in the large bedroom. There are two other bedrooms. You can sleep in either of them."

Now it's my turn to giggle, and when I do, Gareth glances at me and grins, because he knows I won't be sleeping in either of them tonight. And that's not my only thought. Directly below the fabulous painting is the biggest, deepest sheepskin rug I've ever seen in my life. It's dyed a sort of orange to match the picture above it, and I can only think of one word to describe it sexy! Just the thought of me lying naked on it while Gareth does things to me are enough to send a rush of blood to my pinkler, and I feel it swelling in my pants. Rugs: Herr Biermaier's bearskin one, and now Gareth' sheepskin one. And then I chuckle to myself. It must be a boy seducing thing, or in my case, a man seducing thing? We'll see!

The rest of the place is fabulous, and twice as big as it looks from the outside, and the modernistic layout runs through the place. The kitchen is huge; all white and light greys, and in the centre is a circular breakfast bar with tall-legged chromium chairs and grey seats, and at one end is the real dining area with a huge glass table and eight glass and chromium chairs with grey cushions on the seats. I've seen places like this in films, but the reality is mind-numbing to two country boys.

Gottwin can't stop running his hands over everything. He grins at me. "Millionaires Row!"

I giggle. "Billionaire's Row."

And we both chuckle.

The first bedroom we come to is Gareth's. I know it's his, because all his personal stuff is dotted about the place, and it's definitely a man's room; shades of blue everywhere, and the covers on the bedding of the huge double bed is dark-blue. I stare at it, and again feel my pinkler getting hard. Tonight, this will be `our' bed, and I intend to make sure the first time we sleep together will be very special, because I fully intend we'll be sleeping naked in that wonderful bed. I've made plans. But the dark-blue might be a problem... we won't be able to hide the stains If I get to carry out my plans.

Gareth said we could go anywhere, and we do. Gottwin slides back a pair of the doors of the wardrobe that runs along the entire length of one wall. Shirts in here. Lots of them, all covered in clear plastic bags. Shoes of every description nestle on shelves at the side. But no drawers in here. I close the doors, and Gottwin opens the next pair. Suits in here, and even more shoes line the sides. We move to the next compartment. This one contains coats of all shapes and sizes, and pullovers. Again, all covered in plastic. We hit gold on the last compartment. A row of countless ties. But underneath them are a long row of drawers, and each drawer we open contains swimming trunks and socks and vests and underpants and neatly ironed pyjamas. Gottwin looks over his shoulder at the door, and then takes out a white pair of boxer underpants, and studies them. Then he sniffs at them, and giggles as he hands them to me. I do what Gottwin did. Not a stain anywhere, and when I sniff at them, they smell clean and washed. Gottwin is watching me with a big grin on his face, so I kiss them, and we both giggle.

The bathroom is fabulous! It has a shower and a toilet and a bidet, but at one end is a large, circular spa bath. I giggle at Gottwin. "I'm going to have a go in that before we leave."

Gottwin is in front of me when we leave Gareth's bedroom. I look back when we do. I'm going to sleep on the left side of the bed. Gareth is right handed, and I want his best hand doing things to me.

I expected the other two bedrooms to be empty like a hotel room, but in one of them the biggest of the two - are lots of clothes in the wardrobes and drawers. Men's and women's clothes. Obviously, somebody else must stay regularly for them to leave so many clothes here. I'm still puzzling about it when I hear Gareth speak. "Mum and dad use this room when they stay. Maybe it's best if you use the other room."

I turn and see him smiling at us. I smile back at him, and nod. "We'll use the other room. Have you read your mail?"

Gareth pulls his face. "Most of it is rubbish. Get your stuff, and make yourselves at home in the other room. You can have a shower if you want to. I'm going to relax in the spa for a while. Just do what you want. You know where the TV is."

I growl at him. "That's not fair! Why can't we go in the spa? We've never been in one before."

Gareth's face breaks out into a wide grin. "OK. I'll fill it for you. I'll have a shower in mum and dad's room. Unload your suitcases while I'm filling the bath, and then wait in the lounge until I come to you."

Twenty minutes later, Gareth comes into the lounge and tells us it's ready, and when we've had a bath, we're to dress in our pyjamas, because it will be bedtime then. He comes with us while we get our things from our bedroom, and then leads us to his bathroom. Gottwin and I burst out laughing when we see the bath almost overflowing with bubbles.

After Gareth has left us - but not before he tells us not to make too much of a mess - we strip off and get into the bath. The next half hour is just plain fun. There are jets of water coming from everywhere; out of the bottom; from the sides, and out of the ends. And they tickle if you get them in the right place. We can't stop laughing as we discover each new experience, and we tell one another to try this and that, and we both end up with raging erections as the water pounds our pinklers and balls and jets of water massage our bums. My only regret is that it's Gottwin and not Gareth in here with me, and I determine that one day I will share this experience with him.



The water pulsing on my bum makes my pinkler throb, and I stick it up in the air to show Aleric what's happening to me. He giggles, and pushes his pinkler clear of the bubbles to display his hardness. We have a lot of fun in the spa, and then Aleric gets out of the tub, picks up a large towel, and pads out of the bathroom.

When he's gone, I settle on one of the water jets and wank myself off while the water tickles my hole. The vibrations of the water on my hole help bring me to a brilliant climax, and when I cum, my spunk shoots in two small spurts ten centimetres in the air.



When I go out of Gareth's bathroom to our bedroom, and after I've dried myself, I spray my body with lynx deodorant, put on my pyjamas, and style my hair in the mirror. Then I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth until they almost sparkle. Just one more thing to do now.

      Gottwin comes into the bedroom, naked; drying himself. He gives me a crafty giggle.

      I ask, "Did you?"

      He grins, and nods. His voice is almost a whisper when he says, "Two good spurts. They went right up in the air."

      I giggle. "You lucky sod."

He laughs. "You should eat all your porridge."

I shake my head, and giggle. Maybe he's right. Maybe that's the difference between us. He likes porridge, and I don't. I go to the drawer where I've put some of my stuff, and check the things I need are all there: things that I've been planning for some time. Tonight, Gareth is going to have a surprise. When I've done it, I'll be completely irresistible to him, and he'll do anything I want.



From the lounge, I can hear the boys laughing and giggling. I've showered, but I've not changed into my pyjamas. I'm wearing casual clothes: blue jeans, a light blue shirt and sandals. I have other plans for when it's really bedtime for the boys. I've been planning this moment for a long time. Its important Gottwin being here doesn't spoil things for us


I'm sipping a Talisker single malt when the noise decreases and I reckon they've finished. I don't really want a drink, but I decided to have one to relax me, and for the mood I'm in, the Talisker is ideal.

I'm standing by the window, looking out at the city when the boys come into the room in their blue pyjamas. They come to me at the window, and stand each side of me. I'm surprised when both boys link an arm each, and then lean their heads on me. I ask, "Was that fun?"

They answer me with giggles. For the next ten minutes, I describe all the sights from my apartment. From here, we can see the Brandenburg Gate and the Quadriga on the top, clearly visible in the spotlights that pick out the world famous structure. Further away is the Fernsehturm, the television tower that stands high above the city. Questions: I get lots of them, and I'm able to tell the boys what they see. When I think they've seen enough, I ask them if they'd like a drink before turning in. They decide on hot chocolate, so I tell them to ring their parents while I make it. Then I switch on the TV, explain the controls, lower the sound, and leave them to it.

While I'm making their drinks, I'm thinking what's just happened. When the boys came into the lounge, they were dressed identically in bright blue pyjama tops with lighter blue shorts, and both had combed their hair exactly the same. It's uncanny how alike they are, and it was only when I looked into Aleric's eyes that I knew who was who. I reckon I'm going to be baffled a few times while they're here. But why have they dressed the same, and why have they dressed in shorts rather than the long pyjama bottoms they have at home? I'm not complaining. Their sexy legs are quite fetching. And why have they combed their hair the same? I think they're playing games with me. I'll have to watch these pair of rogues!

While I'm making the drinks, I hear each of them talking to Ralf and Gretel and Gunther, and I grin when I hear some of their descriptions of the day, and of my place. Fantastic; fabulous; ace; are repeated many, many times, especially when they're describing the bath they've taken. They sound like what they are: two excited kids on an adventure. I finish making the drinks, place the two steaming mugs of chocolate and some cookies on a tray, go into the lounge, give them each a mug of chocolate, and place a plate of cookies on each of the occasional tables at each end of the sofa where they can reach them without having to get off it, and then I sit in one of the easy chairs. Gottwin looks at me, and asks if I'd like a word with his mum.

I get up and take the phone from him. "Hello Gretel. How are you all?"

"Fine. How are you coping with those two?"

"No problem. But I'll need to clean the bathroom. They were like two five years olds, giggling and laughing in there. I don't think they shifted much dirt. They were too busy having fun."

Gretel laughs. "Check Aleric's ears. He never washes inside them."

I laugh. "Yes, I know. Onions! It's nearly bedtime for them. They can watch some TV while they're having their hot chocolate and cookies, and then I'll boot them off to bed. I'll get them to ring you tomorrow. Will that be OK? About ten?"

"That'll be fine, Gareth. Good luck with them. You'll need it!"

I snigger. "I reckon I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Gareth."

As soon as I break the call and I've thrown Gottwin's phone back to him and sat down in the easy chair, Aleric's phone rings. He picks it up. It's Hans calling him.

The boys are sprawled on the sofa as I sip at my Talisker while I'm listening to the conversation. It also gives me time to study them. Gottwin is absorbed with a German language, lip-synced Mr Bean's Holiday on the TV. His face is a picture of complete fascination with the film, and his face break into smiles when a funny part comes on. Chuckles; laughter; seriousness; eyes reflecting what he's seeing as they widen and then narrow, and all the while he's sipping his drink and nibbling his cookies, he sprawls against the end of the sofa with one leg stretched almost straight, and his top leg crooked at the knee. The pyjama shorts have worked their way up, and I can see almost the full length of his supple thigh. I feel a stirring in my cock, and it dawns on me that if Aleric weren't here, having now experienced the delights of a boy, I might be tempted to seduce him. Why not? Apart from the eyes that have made me fall in love with Aleric, he has exactly the same body that arouses me sexually. I can see the same soft thighs; the same curvaceous bum, and where his pyjama top has risen up his midriff, I have a tantalising glimpse of his upper body. Yes, he most definitely is a desirable sex object to me now.

Aleric is also trying to watch the film as he chats to Hans. He's sitting upright now, with his legs curled under him, drinking his chocolate, and his full lips open succulently as he slurps the froth from the top of it. And then I see his delicious tongue come out to lick his lips. I'm not surprised when I feel my cock beginning to swell even more. I know that sensual tongue very well. It's been in my mouth, and I've sucked the saliva from it many times.

Then Aleric takes me by surprise. I've been so busy watching his mouth and tongue that I don't see his eyes move sideways to look at me, and when I do glance up at them, they've transfixed me, and there's amusement in them. He knows I've been watching him, and my reward is that he blows me a hidden kiss across the room. It's not long after that that he ends the conversation with Hans, and he gives me a stern look. I give him a puzzled one back. I get the message when he pats the space between him and Gottwin and nods towards it. I've been commanded to go and sit between them.



I'm getting fed up with the conversation with Hans when I glance at Gareth. He's watching me drink my chocolate. Well, he's not just watching me, he's studying me, and I can see his mouth and tongue subconsciously imitating the movements of my own lips. I've got froth on my lips, so I rotate my tongue to lick it off. Gareth does the same. This is sexy stuff, and I feel my pinkler getting hard. Then he looks into my eyes, and a smile crosses his face, because he knows he's been found out. I blow him a kiss, and he grins. I don't want him sitting there, alone, so I give him a serious look, and pat the sofa beside me. He gets the message, swallows the last of his drink, and comes to the sofa and sits between us. That's better.

Gareth has brought a hand control with him, and he presses a button. Immediately, the main lights dim, and a number of strategically placed orange-tinted wall lights come on, along with those illuminating the Red House in a Park painting. The process goes on until the room is in semi-darkness. It's like one of those films when a man is about to seduce a woman, and I giggle inwardly that the film makers would have a fit if they knew it could also be used for a boy to seduce a man... or a man to seduce a boy? I've noticed Gareth is drinking again, and I'm about to say something to him, when I remember how he'll be feeling: nervous and apprehensive. I'd probably be feeling exactly the same had I not already gone through the delicate process of being seduced by Herr Biermaier. I know how it works. Once again my paedophile tutor is having his uses.

I finish my chocolate, put it on the table by the sofa and prepare my snuggling mode. The sofa is huge. Although Gottwin is half lying on it, his feet only just touch Gareth. Roughly, I push Gareth back on the sofa, pick up his arm and throw it over me as I curl up and put my head in his lap. That's why I made him slump on the sofa. The only thing I'm disappointed about is that he's not in his pyjamas. Between the side of my face and Gareth's pinkler are his jeans, and probably his locked underpants, because if I know him, unlike me and Gottwin, he'll be wearing them. Gareth can't see my face now, which is good, because he'd see that I'm wearing a smirk as I worm my left hand under his thigh and knead the softness of him. But it's my right hand that's going to be doing the bulk of the work.

With a series of small adjustments by pointing at the TV when something funny happens, my right hand takes up position halfway along the top of his thigh. I'm stroking the softness of him while I'm doing this, which brings an immediate response from his swollen pinkler - which is getting harder under my head as I make it perfectly clear where my hand is heading. All the while I'm doing it, Gareth is stroking my hair and my ears and my neck and shoulders. And then his hand moves along the curves of my side, down to my hips, onto my naked thighs, and he strokes them, too. Eventually, he moves his hand and begins to caress the part of me that really turns him on: my bum. I reckon he thinks he has licence to do this, because that part of me is hidden from Gottwin, who, because of the way he's lying - on his left with his head resting on a cushion at the other end of the sofa - he can't see Gareth's secret caresses.

I feel Gareth's hand come up my bum and slip under my pyjamas and onto my nakedness. Searching fingers soon slip between my bum crack and find my hole. I wriggle slightly, and push back to let him know I'm enjoying what he's doing. My reward is that I feel the end of a finger slip inside me, and he begins to finger me. This part I like, because it reminds me of Herr Biermaier's long tongue doing its stuff. But I'm surprised Gareth's done it. I've always suspected that, sexually, it's my bum that really turns him on. But now I know how much he's really attracted to it, I think I'd better start making plans to accommodate his pinkler in me. I'll do a swaps with him. Just so long as he puts his tongue in me, he can fuck me. I'll settle for that.

But now I need to reward Gareth for being brave, so I ease my head up and slip my hand completely under my face to grasp his hard pinkler, and I begin to manipulate it with my fingers. I'd better be careful I don't overdo it and make him shoot his stuff, because I'm so worked up that I'm almost ready to climax myself.



Aleric is nicely settled in Gareth's lap, and I'll bet my arse that he's got his hand under his head and is holding Gareth's pinkler. The sexy little sod. He knows I won't say anything if he is. He's told me that he'll give the signal when it's bedtime. We're going to bed together, and then he's going to sneak into Gareth's room half an hour after we've gone to bed. I wish I was a fly on the wall when he gets in bed with Gareth. I'm jealous it isn't me. Judging from what Aleric's told me, although I'm not gay, I can only imagine how sexy it must be to have somebody playing with your body and sucking your pinkler. Maybe if I work things properly, after they've got used to each other, I might be able to get to join them, or even better, swap places with Aleric and pretend I'm him. If it's dark, and I keep my mouth shut, Gareth won't know the difference, and he'll suck me off thinking he's sucking Aleric. We used to fool the teachers when we were in junior school together.



I almost start giggling when Gottwin puts his foot on Gareth's legs, and I shove them off to let him know that he's not getting any of my man tonight. Maybe later in the week when I've had my way with Gareth, I might let him have a taste of what it's like. That could be fun. If I can get Gareth over his inhibitions, he might do it, especially if we get him drunk one night.

After about another ten minutes, Gareth gets up and collects the mugs and plates, and he's about to go to the kitchen when he looks at me and nods secretly for me to follow him. I wait until he's gone, and then get up and put my fingers to my mouth to signal silently that I don't want Gottwin to say or do anything, and I go to the kitchen. When I get there, Gareth's putting the crockery in the dishwasher, and when he's done it, he turns to me and holds his arms open. I go to him, he hugs me, and I whisper, "What's up?"

He smiles, and whispers, "Nothing's up. I just wanted to make sure you don't come to me before Gottwin is asleep."

I nod. "OK. Tell us to go to bed now, and I'll come to you in about half an hour. Will that be OK?"


I grin at him. "Don't get drunk! Do I need my pincers?"

He giggles, gives me a silly shrug of the shoulders, turns me round, and pats my bum. "Go!"

After a couple of minutes, Gareth comes back into the room. He points a finger at both of us. "Bed you two! Now!"

Gottwin mumbles that he's not tired, and that makes me giggle. I have to pretend that I agree with him, and say, "Can't we have another half hour?"

Gareth shakes his head. "Five minutes, and that's it. I need to get some work done before I turn in."

After five minutes exactly, he tells us to go to bed, and switches off the TV. This time, we do as he says, and go to our bedroom, and I close the door.

Ten minutes after we've gone, using just the light from the bathroom so I can see, I get ready to go to him. Gottwin's watching me, and when I'm ready, he gets quietly out of bed, comes to me, and brushes my hair so that it's perfect. Then he adjusts everything so the rest of me is too. He's serious when he kisses my cheek and gets back into bed, and when his head is on the pillow, he nods to me. I smile at him, and go quietly to the door. Time to give my Beautiful Man his surprise.



After ten minutes, when I'm sure the boys are settled in bed, I go quietly to my bedroom and get ready for Aleric. No doubt he'll come here when he's ready, but he won't find me here. I go back to the lounge and adjust the lighting: just slightly up from the low glow we were using when the boys were watching TV. The lighting has to be just right. Aleric has to be able to see me, and I him. My biggest doubt is that the sexy little sod will come to me with nothing on. That would spoil things.



Very quietly, I open Gareth's bedroom door. There's a gentle illumination in the room, but Gareth's bed is untouched, and he isn't here. I'm puzzled. He said I was to go to him. But he's not here. Where is he? I pad softly to his bathroom, and look in there. He's not there either. The sod must be drinking in the lounge! I told him I didn't want him drinking! I walk along the corridor that leads to the lounge, quietly open the door, and then I see him, standing by the window with his back to me, sipping something. The sipping something doesn't bother me; it's the Gareth I'm seeing that moves me very deeply when I whisper hoarsely, "Hello."



I hear Aleric say `Hello', and I turn to look at him standing by the door to the lounge. I have difficulty swallowing when I see him, but when I've got over the shock, I put my drink on the table and hold my arms out to him. He smiles and comes to me slowly, and I can see that his eyes are misty with tears.

To be continued...

 You can find my other stories on Nifty here. If you wish to comment on this or any of my other stories, just drop me a line to john.thestoryteller@gmail.com Genuine comments will be appreciated. All flames will be extinguished in the trash bin.