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 24.


The bedroom, illuminated by a very low wattage blue wall light tucked away in a corner, is semi-dark, and the only sounds in the room are the slow breathing of Gareth. He's on his other side, turned away from me. But it's not so bad. His back is the least familiar part of him to me. I snuggle behind him and kiss the back of his neck. Then I rub my nose in his sweet smelling hair. And then I kiss his neck and strong shoulders. It's strange how he's two different people with his clothes on and his clothes off. Like this, he's more vulnerable. I love him to bits when he's dressed up, but like this when he's warm and soft and cuddly, I feel more as an equal with him. I recall what he did before we went to sleep. He really did fuck me. Yes... fuck me. My Gareth fucked me. This is the same man who cried his eyes out because he wanked me on the headland. But last night he made me have it. It was his choice. He got the Vaseline and smeared it on me. He was the one who intended putting his pinkler in me; deep into his Angel of Pie Jesu. He fucked the Demi-God he thought I was. The sacrilegious sod! If things hadn't happened the way they had, I was hoping he would do me with the cassock on. He will tonight. I'll make sure of that.

He's waking up. My tickling his back has done it. He turns over, and I can see he's puzzled. I see his eyes soften, and he pulls the duvet down to look at me. Then his hand goes to my body and he fondles every square centimetre he can lay his hands on, never once taking his eyes off what he's doing. When he looks into my eyes, I don't say anything. I don't need to. He knows what I want.

I lie fully compliant as he wanks me off. We're staring into each other's eyes as his hand works faster and he knows that I'm nearing my climax, and when I reach it and thrust my hips off the bed, through my clenched teeth, I whisper to him, "Do it! Do it to your Angel of Pie Jesu!" That tips Gareth over the edge, and he sinks his teeth into my neck by my collarbone, and sucks on me like a vampire until I've collapsed back on the bed, completely spent.

When we're dressed, I ring Gottwin. He sounds really happy that I'm happy, and I can't wait to see him in the Tiergarten.



Kurt and Heindrich and the two boys, Gottwin and Hans, are already seated at a six-person table outside the Giraffe Restaurant-Kneipe Café in the Tiergarten when Aleric and I arrive at mid-morning. Although it's cold, the sun is shining, and we're all wearing good winter gear, so eating outside in the fresh air is the order of the day. There are two vacant places; one between Gottwin and Hans, and one at the end of the table, next to Kurt.

      Aleric is gone before I have time to say anything, and he sits between the other two boys. It hasn't taken him long to abandon me. When I sit, Kurt squeezes my leg. I ignore him. I've already spoken with him on the phone and averted answering any questions about what happened between me and Aleric. All I told him was that we were `fine thanks'. When I was getting dressed, Aleric spoke to Gottwin, and he sounded really happy, so I'm assuming everybody is fine now. I don't want to talk about last night. That's between me and Aleric. I'll thank Kurt in my own way in due course, and he knows it.

      The boys pour over the menu, giggling and laughing. They order pancakes and honey and coffee. I order coffee. I'm not a morning person as far as food is concerned.


When we left the apartment, we decided to leave the car and walk to meet the others. It was lovely walking close together through the Tiergarten to get to the café - he linking my arm with both his all the way through the maze of lanes - both of us laughing as we dodged silent cyclists who only sounded their bells when they were a couple of metres behind us; our breath like clouds of smoke in the cold, frosty air.

I insisted I dress him before we left; from his grey underpants right to a grey silk scarf he stole from my wardrobe, which he tossed around his neck to make him look like me: `Because you wear scarves better than anybody I know'. We laughed when I said it would look better on Pole-Land, and he undid the zip of his blue jeans and told me to put it on. He insisted he wear his bomber jacket with the jeans, and I insisted he wear the white polo-neck pullover and his blue woollen hat, but he chose his shoes: a pair of sturdy, black, Doc Martins. Then it was his turn to dress me. Well, not dress me, but to tell me what to wear. He rifled through my drawers and threw me a pair of dark blue boxers; dark blue woollen socks; blue Wranglers; a thick blue-check shirt; and after much searching through my jackets, he selected a fur-lined, dark blue Parka. I refused to wear a hat, so he threw me a thick, grey woollen scarf, and said: `make sure you put it on properly!'

      Before that, we'd showered together. He wanted to use the spa bath, but I insisted we didn't have time. He tried his best to get us to have more sex in the shower, even trying to shove his cock in my mouth when I was kneeling to wash his legs, but I insisted again that we didn't have time for that. He moaned and groaned all the time I was drying him, and all the time I was blow-drying his hair that I was a waste of space, and I couldn't stop laughing when he said: `All boys need lots of relief first thing in the morning.' I managed to get us through the `ordeal' by telling him that I'd make it up to him later when we went to bed. Then he came out with some suggestions about what I had to do to make up, and tears were running from my eyes when he said he was going to be really kinky and wear a nappy and suck a dummy when we went to bed. I couldn't help thinking that our `spat' last night had liberated him from any inhibitions he might have, and that my vision of The Angel of Pie Jesu was well and truly shattered now. This was one highly sexed, hormonal teenager I was dealing with, and not a reserved religious child.

      But he did have his way eventually. I made my way to the exit door of the apartment, expecting him to be with me, but when the door opened and I walked through it, I was alone. I went back into the lounge and Aleric was just standing there; grim faced. I wondered what the problem was, and asked, "Are you coming?"

      He shook his head vigorously. Then he unzipped his bomber jacket, pulled his woollen pullover up to his chest, unzipped the fly of his jeans, fiddled around, and pulled out his cock, which was as hard as a nail. He stared into my eyes. "I can't go out with this in this state."

      I chuckled. "Put it away and let's go!"

      Very slowly, he shook his head. "No."

      And I was still chuckling when I went to him, dragged him to the sofa, pushed him onto it, took his cock in my mouth, and began to suck him off. It didn't take long before, with both hands behind my head, he was bucking and heaving until the climax drove him to thrust his hips as high as he could get them to get the most out of the experience. Then, panting and wiping his dry lips with his tongue, he pushed me away, got up, fastened himself up, zipped up his bomber jacket, and said with a big grin on his face, "We can go now."

      We said nothing as we went down in the lift, but Aleric was hugging my arm really tight; his way of saying `Thank you'. And, on our way to rendezvous with the others, he was very quiet and loving, and those beautiful green eyes that drove me to distraction were full of affection each time our eyes met. Eventually, just before we met with the others, he looked up at me like a puppy dog, and said, "I love you."

I took his hand and squeezed it. "I love you, too."


My mobile phone goes. I excuse myself and walk away from the table when I see who's calling: Pete Sawyer, director of operations: UK branch.

"Hi Pete. Any problems?"

"Not really. I can manage. You OK?"

"I'm fine. Having breakfast in the Tiergarten."

"You lucky bastard! I've just had a ham sandwich."

I laugh. "I feel sorry for you. Anything on the special task?"

"It's all happening. You should make a load of dosh from this if we get it off the ground."

For one second, I'm angry. "If!"

Pete answers immediately. "When Townshend sorts it."

Now I'm not angry. "Yes, it will. This venture will make a lot of dosh, but these kids' parents are very personal friends of mine, so look on this as a philanthropic venture. And before you ask, no, I'm not going soft in the head!"

I hear Pete chuckle. "So, the Big Man goes soft in the heart then, and nobody knew he had one."

I laugh. "And they'd better not. I have a reputation as a cunt to live up to. Don't let me down. The fact that Andy Townshend's shagging your lady will help."

"Fuck off you bastard! They're just good friends."

"Right. I understand. Just good friends then. Is there anything else to talk about?"

"No. Not really. You did ask that I keep you up to speed with what's going on."

"OK. I'll speak to you later. Toodle pip."

I can hear Pete chuckling when we end the call, and I have a grin on my face, too. Pete and I have a great working relationship. He's worked for me for ten years, and I reckon he's one of the most loyal guys in my organisation... and I like him because he doesn't fawn over me. If he has something to say, he says it, and it's usually a crude remark. When I explained everything he needed to know about my plans for the boys, he was silent until I'd done it. That's what Pete does; listens well. I had Andy Townshend in mind as the publicist before I rang Pete, and when he said his wife - because she's big in the music publishing business - and Townshend were business friends, I knew then that I could pretty much forget about that side of things. The only input I'll have with Townshend is to tell him where I want the boys to be in a year's time, if not before.

I don't go back to the table immediately. I need time to think. I need to sort out a tutor for the boys, especially Gottwin. My PS, Helena Herzog, will do that while she's having a month off, which I insisted she take to spend some quality time with Joseph after his small stroke. They're on my boat at Schwanenwerder, just out of town. But she's a workaholic, and I imagine she'll be doing business as usual, but from the comfort of my yacht. I decide to ring her, because there's something else on my mind I have to sort out. I've a favour to return to Kurt. I speak to her for ten minutes, and she says she'll ring me back later.

I'm still thinking about things when I see Aleric get up from the table and walk towards me. When he reaches me, he asks, "What are you doing?"

I put my hand on his shoulder and give him a small hug. "I'm working. Sorry, but I need to sort a few things. Have you missed me?"

His serious, rosy-cheeked face looks up at me. "I've waited a long time to be with you. I miss you every moment I'm not touching you. I love you."

I smile at him. "I know. I'm the same, but what I've just been doing was in part for you. I'm sorting your future out."

"The trio?"

I tap the side of my nose. "You'll see."

I'm about to go back to the table, when Aleric stops me. "Do the others know?"

I look into his eyes. "Just Kurt."

"Shouldn't we tell the others?"

I think for a short moment about Aleric's question, and I'm also thinking about why I rang my PS. Then I look at the others at the table, and I call to them, "Won't be long. Something I need to discuss with Aleric." I put my hand on Aleric's shoulder again, and lead him away from the café. When we're gone a few metres, I look down at him, and say, "Yes, we should tell them, but there's something even more important than your trio."

      Aleric looks up at me, puzzled. "What's that?"

      I smile at him. "Last night, we nearly broke up. Somebody we both love saved us from doing that. We need to repay him."

      Aleric pulls my arm from his shoulder, hugs it, and leans into me as we stroll slowly along. He looks up into my eyes, and smiles. "Can we do that?"

      I smile, and nod. "One of the calls I've just made was about Hans. My Personal Secretary, Helena, is quite an influential person in Berlin. She's a very respected lady, serves on a number of community projects, and one of them is Children's Welfare and Services. She's not on the inside, as in being employed for doing it, but she knows the people who matter."

      Aleric grins. "It's not what you know, but who you know?"

      "Correct, young man. I intend that your pal stays here with Kurt and Hendrich. Hans wants it, and they want it. Now do you understand?"

      Aleric hugs my arm even tighter. "You're right, some things are more important than our trio." He looks up into my eyes, and I see his are misted over. "Has anyone ever told you what a beautiful person you are, Gareth Rhys Jones?"

      I grin at him. "Some people hate me."

      Aleric shakes his head. "That's because they don't really know you."

      "That's because we don't give them the chance to know us. It's only when we open ourselves up that others can see what we are. Sometimes, it takes something drastic to tear down the façade."

"Like last night?"

"Like last night. For both of us. Last night, the barriers really were blown away. But we survived."

"That's because we really love each other, Gareth."

I stop and hug Aleric to me, and kiss his head. "Yes it is, but it was also because someone who loves us both decided we were worth helping, and because we love Kurt, we're going to provide him with a son."

Aleric giggles. "A daughter you mean? You do know he's a little gay boy, do you?"

I laugh. "They're so alike that he could be Kurt's real daughter. I'll bet you that within twelve months, he's walking around wearing a dress."

Aleric grins at me. "Would you like me to wear one?"

His comment makes me laugh. "I'll settle for the nappy and dummy first."

Aleric puts on a naughty face. "Then call at a baby shop on the way home and we'll get them."

When we link arms again and begin to walk, I begin to chuckle, and so does Aleric, and our chuckles turn into crazy laughter when, with the most amusing, naughty twinkle in his eyes, Aleric adds, "You can get me a baby rattle as well."


Boys. Before I met Aleric, I never took much notice of them, but now I don't miss anything. When the three of them are together as they walk in front of us, they become a self-contained unit with their own language. Much of it exaggerated body language. A middle finger and a grin means `fuck you', which is usually followed by hysterical laughter. They wander like butterflies; never in a straight line. These three are tactile. I lose count of the number of times they touch each other; small touches just to emphasise their acceptance of each other as a group. A special group. Three country boys in an alien environment; well away from their own, and that gives them the freedom to act irresponsibly. Little Hansie with his sticky out ears makes the centre place his own. He's protected by the two bigger boys, and that gives him license to show off. We reach the Global Stone Project, and after the boys have explored them all, Hansie insists Heindrich takes a video of them doing their version of Rock Around the Clock in front of the Australian Red Stone, and his hip gyrations have us all in stitches laughing at him. The fact that he has an audience besides us is no obstacle to his extrovert, and sometime obscene body movements.

Fate works in mysterious ways. Just as I'm thinking how happy everyone is, and also thinking we need just one more thing to make this day completely happy, my phone goes. I listen to what Helena has to say, and thank her. And then, just a short while later, Kurt's phone rings, and I move slightly away to give him some privacy. I'm hoping the call is the one Helena told me about.

I know it is when I see Kurt go almost rigid. He's managing to control himself as he's speaking, but as soon as the call ends, he looks at me, throws a triumphant fist in the air and then does a full circle like a mad man, still waving that triumphant fist. I'm laughing when I go to him and hug him, and then he calls to Heindrich. I'm glad of that: he should be where I am now.

Heindrich asks, "What's the matter, darling?"

Kurt is breathing heavily. "Hansie. He's ours!"


"It's sorted. Well... almost" They're coming to see us all at our place at eleven in the morning to sort the formalities and paperwork, and Hansie is ours on a three month probationary period, and then we can apply for full adoption."



Gareth and Gottwin and me are sitting on one of the small stones. Gareth has his arms around both of us as we watch Kurt and Heindrich and Hansie all hugging each other. They're all crying, and have been for a while. Gareth led us away when Hansie flew into Kurt's arms the moment he told him the good news. I'm almost in tears myself. After a while, they come towards us, and we get off the stone and go to meet them. When we do meet, there are hugs all round. I've never seen anyone so excited as Hansie is. He's still crying, but his tears are of joy and excitement.


We're now in two groups. In front, and in the middle of, and holding hands with his new parents, is Hansie. Gareth and Gottwin and me are about twenty metres behind them. Gareth is in the middle, and he's holding both our hands. It's about an hour and a half since Kurt received the news, and after the loving and excitement died down, and after we called at Burger King for lunch, we all decided to walk to Gareth's place to get warm. As we walk, Gareth and me exchange secret smiles, and press our hands together.

      We reach the apartment and all go up in the lift together, and when we get in, we go in the kitchen and sit around the breakfast bar while Gareth makes us all hot drinks; chocolate for us boys, and coffee for the grown-ups. Then we go into the lounge where we three boys sprawl on the large sheepskin rug under the Macke painting, playing games on our phones, and the three grown-ups sit on the sofa, watching us and chatting about things.

Then Hans says, "Have you got a Playstation here?"

I look at Gareth. "Have we got a Playstation?"

Gareth laughs. "No. It's not a nursery."

Hans gets up and goes to Kurt. "Can we get mine from home, please?"

Heindrich laughs. "You'll have to ask Uncle Gareth."

Uncle Gareth. Home. Oh my God! Those words really hit home, and they upset me. Gottwin and me have a home, and uncles and aunts. We take it for granted, but because I know Hansie's background, I know he doesn't have any. But now he does. Well, almost, and for the first time I realise what it's been like for Hansie. I understand now why he's latched onto me: he looks on me as his big brother. But I've not been a very good big brother to him. I've basked in the warmth of my own family, not really giving a thought to Hansie not having one. It seems I'm not the only one having those thoughts, because Gottwin looks right into my eyes, and I can see he's upset, too. He nods to me, and I nod back. Then he gets up and holds out a hand, which I take, and he hauls me to my feet and we go and join our new `brother' and stand each side of him with our hands on his shoulders. Then Gottwin says to Gareth, "Can we go and get it, please?"

Gareth grins. "I don't seem to have much choice with you three ganging up on me. But don't ask me how to connect it up. I haven't got a clue."

Heindrich laughs, and gets up. "Come on you three." He looks at Gareth. "Can we borrow your car?"

Gareth laughs. "You know where the keys are."

Kurt gets up and gives his key-card to Heindrich. "We'll wait here. Behave yourselves, all of you!"

We all laugh, get our coats on, and follow Heindrich out to the elevator. Just as I'm leaving the apartment, I look back and see Kurt put his hand on Gareth's arm. I'm not the least bit jealous that Kurt is sharing my Beautiful Man for a while. I feel sorry for him. He loves Gareth, and he wants the things from Gareth that are only mine to have. The reason I feel sorry for him is because I know what he's missing; being naked in my Beautiful Man's arms; being loved until nothing else exists when the fabulous feelings tear through your body in that moment of supreme pleasure that's both spiritually and sexually fulfilling. But as we leave, I know Kurt can have the next best thing; the company and love of my Beautiful Man. I hope Kurt enjoys the next half hour or so.

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.