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.
Anyone wishing to contact me can do so at firstname.lastname@example.org
Other stories on Nifty by John Teller/The Storyteller can be found here.
All rights reserved. All parts of these documents are © Copyright 2011 John T. S. Teller, and may not be reproduced in any form without the author's consent. Nifty.org have permission to reproduce it on their website.
A small sermon. Nothing in life is free. Everything costs, and Nifty is no different, so please send them a couple of $'s/£'s to cover costs and stuff. They're very discreet, and you won't get your name in lights if you do. Donate here.
The Angel of Pie Jesu.
By John T. S. Teller.
Book one – Star in the Hood.
I'm still upset when I go back to the bedroom. I didn't dare tell Gareth why I was crying. Maybe the music did have something to do with it. If he'd been playing some Eminem stuff, I think I would have come out of my daft mood right away. But now I need some company, and I throw one of Gareth's slippers at Gottwin to wake him up.
He gives me an angry stare. "What's up with you!"
I grin. "Get up you idle sod. The boss says we've got to get dressed."
I use Gareth's shower, and it's lovely letting the hot water run down my body. But I don't get hard at all. That's unusual for me. I always get a hard on in the shower at home. Maybe it's because of what's just happened. When I get out of the shower, Gottwin is in the bathroom, having a pee. I grab a towel and go to our own bedroom. Star in the Hood. That's what Gareth calls me, so that's what I'll be today, and I put my hoody on.
By the time we've had breakfast, I'm back to normal. So is Gareth, and Gottwin can't stop giggling when we tease Gareth about being his hot water bottles. Then, after Gareth has done some more work and we've watched some TV, we go and pick Hansie up and go to the games shop.
The boy looks about fifteen, and is probably working part time at the store while he's completing his education. He looks at Hans, and, because of the way he's standing - sort of near to Hans, and because he keeps touching him every now and again when Hans picks up a particular PS3 game from the rack we're looking in, and he looks right into Hansie's face when they talk about it, I can tell right away that he likes him. Although me and Gottwin are with them, it seems to be all the boy and Hans. I give Gottwin a sly grin, step away from them, and whisper, "I think he fancies Hansie."
Gottwin hides his face behind his hand, and giggles. "I was thinking the same. Shall we fix them up?"
I hide my grin. "Yes."
Gottwin leaves me and goes to them. "Hurry up Hans. I'm getting hungry."
Hansie says he'll have the PS3 game the boy is explaining to him, leads us to the shop counter, and says, "Can we have three iPads as well please."
The boy looks at Hansie, and then at me and Gottwin as if we're fooling him. "Three iPads? Are you sure? That's a lot of money."
I grin at him, and then point to Gareth, who's looking at some music CD's. "Not to him it isn't. He's a billionaire. And he's paying. Three iPads, please."
The boy grins. "You lucky guys! I'll just check we have three in stock." He presses some keys on his computer. "We have just five left. I'll get three for you."
When he's gone, I look at Hans, and giggle. "He's dead cute."
Hans blushes, but doesn't say anything. The boy comes back to us with the three iPads and sets them on the counter. He looks at Hans. "Is that it?"
I chuckle. "Not quite. Can we have a PS3 and four controllers?"
The boy stares at me, and says, "Are you fooling me?"
Hansie giggles. "No. We want a Wii System and an Xbox as well."
The boy laughs - a lovely laugh - and his eyes are sparkling now. "This is for real... yes?"
Hansie nods. "It's for real."
The boy looks them up on the computer, checks them to take them out of stock, goes out to get them, returns, and grins at us as he places them on the counter. Then he says, "Games?"
We all nod. He laughs, and we follow him to the games display area. I select two, and then go to Gareth.
He grins at me when I go to him. "Looks like you lot are having fun."
I touch his hand. "Not as much fun as we had last night."
He stares into my eyes. "I didn't go too far then?"
I shake my head. "No. You're going to do that again to me tonight."
Gareth doesn't say anything; he just smiles and presses my shoulder.
I point to Hansie. "I think he's got an admirer."
I nod. "The boy serving us. And Hansie fancies him, too."
Gareth shakes his head. "I don't want to know. Just get on with it, and let me know when I need to empty my bank."
I laugh. "You'd better have enough left when we go to the baby shop. I need some nappies and a dummy."
Gareth walks away, chuckling. I join the others.
Everything is sorted and packed into bags, and the boy taps the computer to add up everything we've bought.
Gottwin says. "Can we have your phone number just in case anything goes wrong?"
"Yes, of course. It will be on the receipt, but I'll get a card for you."
"No! Not the shop number. Your number. We don't like dealing with shops. It's best if we can talk to somebody our age. These oldies don't know how we work. What's your name?"
The boy looks flustered. "Jan Strichter. Do you guys live in Berlin? You have a different accent."
I butt in now. "No, we're from up north." I point to Hansie. "But Hans Drescher is living in Berlin now: Wartenburgstraße. He can be our go-between. If you don't mind that is. Have you got a mobile number?"
Jan looks around at the other staff in the shop, and when he sees they're all occupied elsewhere, he whispers, "Yes. I'll write it on the back of one of the shop cards. But don't tell anybody or I'll get in trouble."
Gottwin's turn. "We won't. Have you worked here long? You don't seem old enough to be working in a shop."
"I'm just fifteen. I'm doing this part time after school. I only started here just before the holidays. This is my best ever sale."
"That's great, Jan!" I say. "Hansie has only just moved here. He'll need to go to a new school. Which school do you go to?"
"'The Waldorfschule in Kreuzberg."
"Is it a good school?"
Jan nods. "Yes. It's the best around here, and it takes pupils through from kindergarten to 12th grade." He looks at Hansie, and asks, "How old are you?"
Hansie seems slightly embarrassed, probably because he's the little kid in all this, and shyly says, "I'm ten." Then he sort of pulls himself up as tall as he can be, and says, "But I'm eleven in March!" Then he looks puzzled, and adds, innocently, "I think that school is the one Children's Services suggested that we consider for me to go to."
Now Jan looks puzzled. "Children's Services?"
I move close to Hans and put my hand on his shoulder, and the look I give Jan is one that if he says anything wrong, I'll knock his block off! "Yes... Children's Services! Hans doesn't have parents that he knows of, and is being adopted by two lovely people here in Berlin."
My worry that Jan might hurt Hans are immediately eased when he gives Hansie a friendly smile to rescue him from feeling inferior, and says, "I don't live too far from you; on Eberhard-Roters-Platz, near to the Viktoriapark. If you can get in my school, I'll look after you... I promise." Then he gives Hans a big grin, and adds, "Look on me as your big Bro. I'll take care of you. That's if you want me to?"
Hansie nods. "Thank you, Jan. I don't know any other boys here. I know I'm not your age, but maybe we can be friends?"
Jan grins, writes his mobile number and some other stuff on the back of one of the shop cards, and then hands it to Hans. "Sure. I've added my address and the name of the school for your parents. It's a private school, and may not be easy to get in, but if your new parents can arrange it, I think you'll like it there. Ring me whenever you need to. Can you ask the gentleman to pay for these things please?"
When we leave the shop, the boys are giggling fit to burst. I shake my head at them, and then I see Hans look back at the shop. The boy who served them is by the window. He waves to Hans, and Hans waves back. Aleric catches my eye, and grins. I giggle. It looks as though he was right.
I'm in the front seat as we drive to the apartment. Gottwin and Hansie are in the back, examining the games we've bought, but my mind is far away from those games. I'm thinking about the games Gareth and me played last night.
Gareth was quiet most of the way to the shop, and is quiet now. I've got my hand over his on the gear lever. He turns his hand over and squeezes mine. I look into his eyes, and he smiles at me. I blow him a hidden kiss. He blows one back to me. I can't wait to be in bed with him again. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing.
As I'm driving, I'm thinking what happened this morning, but Aleric seems to be well and truly over it now. The boys have the afternoon to themselves to set up everything and play their games. Kurt is picking Hansie up at five, and then we're meeting up at seven for a meal at McDonald's – the boys' choice; not ours. Then it will be bedtime. No Gottwin tonight, I hope. It should be a good night for us. Providing Kurt comes up with the goods, that is.
Kurt. He was crying when we picked Hans up. It had all gone well with Children's Services. Papers signed and sealed. Three months fostering and then full adoption if all goes well. He didn't really want to let Hans out of his sight, but he has a prior arrangement with some business people, and they've come from Khorat in Thailand with silk samples.
Kurt has come a long way since I first met him at the A-Train. It was strange how we met. I'd been to see the site where my apartments are. I'd bought the land, seen an architect that day, and was pissed off because he tried to stitch me up with something I didn't want. I knew what I wanted. It was in my head, and no matter how many times I told him, he kept coming up with excuses why I shouldn't have what I wanted. It was my mistake really. I was looking for a Libeskind, and he was a Pugin. I needed to think. I'm strange that way. I think better when I'm in a crowded room with lots of noise around me. I was still in Charlottenburg, driving around when I came to Bleibtreustraße 1, and the A-Train. The place was full, but when I tipped the doorman a fifty, he let me in. There was just one empty table; a small, round, copper topped one. It had two half-full glasses of beer on it, so I got a double Schnapps and sat in the chair with no glass in front of it. Three drinks later, and this guy came and sat at the table. I knew he was gay the moment I saw him, but, hey, I'm not a bigot. He asked me to buy him a drink. I bought him one. And another. And another. Normally, I would have told him to `fuck off', but he was sort of different. He never stopped talking, and, usually, I hate guys who talk incessantly. But he was interesting. And amusing. But not just amusing. I didn't know it then, nor even when I gave him my phone number when I was half-pissed, but he was my kinda guy. He even ordered me a taxi because I was too pissed up to drive back to my apartment.
He rang me three days later and asked me if we could meet for lunch. I told him I'd meet him at the Adlon, but he said he couldn't afford a meal there. I liked that. He was honest. I told him the meal was on me.
We met for lunch, and talked. Well, Kurt did most of the talking. He had a Gentlemen's Outfitters on the Unter den Linden, but he was struggling to make a go of it. I remember the conversation well.
After we'd been talking for a while, I asked him if he needed financial backing.
Again he was honest, and he said, "Yes. But no."
I was puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I mean that I need financial backing, but I prefer your company."
I smiled at him. "I'm not gay."
He laughed; that laugh I grew to love. "Shame. But I can fantasise. Anyway, even though I think you could make all my dreams come true, I didn't mean it that way."
His comment made me laugh, and I asked him, "What way did you mean it then?"
He raised his glass, took a nibble of his wine without taking his eyes off mine, and said, "I enjoy your company. It's as simple as that. These things happen."
I remember staring at him for a while, and then I said, "Let's talk business."
And we did. For more than an hour, and I discovered the best friend I'd ever had. After lunch, we walked to his shop. He'd bought the building out of money left to him by his mother, who had died recently. (His father had died a few years previously.) But the building had taken all his capital, and a loan, too. That meant he had little cash to fit it out properly. We met numerous times after and discussed how to make it a success. I even managed to buy the shop adjacent to it, and we converted both shops into one. Kurt was no dummy... he was like so many people... he had the ideas, but not the cash to carry them out. And so an unlikely marriage was formed, and to this day, I count my blessing that I found a true friend, and I know that if anything were to happen to Kurt, it would break my heart as much as it would if anything were to happen to my beautiful Star in the Hood.
Gareth doesn't know it, but I've been watching him all day. I know he's busy with his work, because he's been taking phone calls all day, and working on his iPhone, but I can sense there's something on his mind. A number of times, he's touched me. We're lying on the sheepskin rug while we play games on the consoles, and he's walked past and put his foot on my bum, and when I was sitting, while he was talking on the phone by the window, he walked to me, ruffled my hair, and then went back to the window. I love some of his traits. If he's animated, he screws his face up and runs the back of two fingers along his designer stubble. I can tell he's a good listener. Most of the time when he's on the phone, he rarely speaks, except when he disagrees with something, and then there's a sort of anger in his voice and on his face when he needs to make a point that won't be argued with. After a call, he stands by the window, stroking his lips while he's thinking. I know when he's made a decision. He'll nod to himself, and then give some time to us.
At five, Kurt arrives to pick up Hans. He's really happy, and he's got some fabrics with him, which he shows to Gareth. I look at some of them, and there's a fantastic azure blue silk that I like. For some unknown reason, the moment I touch it, it makes my pinkler hard. When I tell Kurt that I like it, he gives me a sly grin, and whispers, "It's sexy stuff. Imagine yourself wearing a cassock made out of it, and Gareth making love to you with it on."
I whisper back, "I want some."
Kurt chuckles, and then winks at me.
It's turned eight when we all meet up at McDonald's, and because I haven't had a wank all day, I'm thinking sex all the time while we're eating, and my pinkler goes as hard as a nail when Hans asks Gottwin if he wants to stay over with him tonight, and I hold my breath while I'm waiting for Gottwin to answer.
He looks at Gareth, and asks, "Will it be alright if I do?"
Gareth holds his hands up. "It's fine by me, but shouldn't you ask Kurt and Heindrich?"
There's no need for him to ask, because Kurt says, "No problem." Then I see a naughty look in his eyes when he looks at me. "Aleric can stay over if he wants, too."
Gareth knows the game Kurt's playing, and he grins. "That's fine with me."
Hans comes to the rescue when he says, "There's only room for two. Aleric can stay tomorrow if he wants."
I give Gareth a look of victory, and then kick him really hard under the table before saying, "Best we ring mum and dad now then, don't you think?"
Gottwin understands. We're supposed to be together, and if we ring home from two separate places and on two phones, we'll give the game away, so he uses his phone to call home. While we're talking, Gareth gets up and makes a call on his phone to someone, and I can see him grinning. He's up to something, but I haven't got a clue what it is, and even when he and I are driving back to the apartment alone, he's still got a smirk on his face. Because I've made my mind up to find out later when we're doing stuff, I don't bother asking. I'll make him suffer if he doesn't tell me.
When we get to the apartment, after he's parked the car, I'm going towards the apartment door when he says, "Wrong way." He points to his other car. "We're going for a drive."
I'm puzzled, but I get in it, and he drives out of the car park and away towards the city. I have to ask, "Where are we going?"
He grins at me. "Raul, my artist friend needs to feel at you."
"Feel at me?"
Gareth laughs. "He wants to know how big you are down there."
I laugh. "You're kidding me!"
He nods. "I'm kidding you, but he wants to meet you. He says it's important for the painting."
"Didn't you send him the pictures of me that I sent you?"
"Yes, but he needs to know the texture of you."
I laugh. "Is he nuts?"
Gareth laughs. "As crazy as they come, and you'll be in for a shock when you meet Raul, and he can use bad language, but he's the very best, and nothing but the best is good enough for you."
The place looks a dump from the outside, but when Raul lets us into his place, it's even worse, and I reckon he's one of the strangest people I've ever met as he helps Gareth carry the carrier bags of food we've bought from a supermarket on the way. He's got dreadlocks; he looks filthy, and hungry as he snatches the kebab that Gareth picked up on the way here.
He greets Gareth like a long lost friend. "Hey man, it's fucking good to see you!" He looks at me, stops dead in his tracks, stares at my face and my body, and let's out a low whistle. "Wow, man, you are fucking beautiful! My German angel." He puts the kebab on a dirty table, comes to me, takes hold of my hand, and rubs it on his dirty face. I want to snatch it away, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. Then he kisses my hand before releasing it. He turns to Gareth, rubs his fingers together, and Gareth takes out his wallet and hands him a load of cash.
"How are you, Raul?" asks Gareth.
"Living man. Just living."
"Are you snorting?"
Raul shakes his head. He points to a door. "My snort is in there."
Gareth asks, "Can I look?"
"Be my guest. It's almost done."
Gareth looks at me. "Do you want to see it?"
I hug his arm, and nod.
Shivers run right through me when we go through the curtains into what, because it has paintings everywhere, I suppose is Raul's studio. But it's the massive painting of me on an easel that draws my attention. Raul said it wasn't finished, and I know why he said it. But even without that, it's Me! The real Me! Not just the outside of me, but the body he's painted also reveals what I look like inside. How can he have done that? There's only me who knows what I look like inside. Not even Gareth knows what I look like inside, but this tramp does, and I'm moved to tears because he's discovered who I really am. But he's not revealed the complete me in the painting. My eyes are almost done, but there's something missing, and I know the reason why, and I feel my pinkler getting hard.
Gareth puts an arm round me, hugs me tight, and says, "Oh my God! You are beautiful!"
I look up at him, and I can see tears running down his cheeks. We kiss, and then stand together looking at what Raul has done.
I'm almost dumbstruck when I see what Raul has achieved. I expected conventional, but I've got abstract. Well, the background is. A dark, spatially perspective room that leads to the past; a Germanic past, full of grotesques of anger and sorrow. I know why he's done it: Aleric is part of that past. Raul has hidden nothing. But from that past, kneeling on a magnificent bed of white feathers on which Aleric is hovering so as not to make an impression in them, is my Angel of Pie Jesu, complete with wings; legs open revealing everything; naked and seductive; sexual beyond imagination. And now I know why I love him. I'm little different than the millions who have perished in pursuit of an unattainable goal: the truth of what the Germanic race is about. Except for one thing, that is: I am the Chosen One, and I know the complete truth can only be revealed by a few more brush strokes by this genius. But can Raul do that? Only the eyes will reveal the complete truth of what Aleric is, and what he represents. And as far as I'm aware, only I have ever seen that truth.
When we leave the room, hand in hand, Raul is just finishing his kebab. He wipes sauce from his lips on the arm of his tattered pullover, sniffs, and points to one of the chairs. "You sit down." He looks at Gareth. "You go for a drive for thirty minutes. And don't ask any fucking questions, man."
It's as if Gareth is in a spell. And so am I. Probably because we both know we're in the company of a superior being. I'm not frightened of the tramp now. I'm resigned to whatever he needs from me, and I have a good idea what it is.
When Gareth has gone, Raul leads me into the room where the painting is; stands me in front of it; stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders, and whispers in my ear, "I understand you. I'm the only person you'll meet in your life who ever will."
I'm helpless as he slowly takes off my clothes, carefully folding them as he places them on a small table. When I'm naked, I feel his hands exploring my back and my arms and my bum and my legs, and I know how near he is because I can feel his warm breath on me. My pinkler is fully erect when he comes round me, kneels in front of me, and explores everything. When he stares up into my eyes, I know what he wants, and I'm not at all ashamed when I take a step forward and put my pinkler by his lips. He opens his mouth, sucks my pinkler right inside him until I can feel it against the back of his mouth, and begin to fuck him. I grab his dirty dreadlocks and use them to pull him on and off me, making sure never to allow my eyes to stray from his, and when the feelings surge from me, through my eyes, I give him what he needs to complete the painting. And when it's over, I say to him, "Gareth is never to know."
Raul sucks the small amount of sperm from the end of me, and says, "Your spirit is safe with me, man. But I need one more thing."
I'm puzzled when I ask, "What else do you need?"
"When Gareth comes back, make sure you show me in your eyes how much you love him. I need that."
"What will I say if he asks me what you wanted me for?"
Raul grins, hands me my clothes one by one, and when I'm dressed, he says, "Tell him the fucking truth, man, that I needed to see you naked. That way, you won't be telling him a lie."
When we're in the apartment, Aleric says he need to use the bathroom. He's gone a while, so I go to see where he is and find him lying on the bed, his hands behind his head, legs slightly apart, naked, his cock as stiff as a rod, and the look he gives me is one that that I have to obey. Without discarding my clothes, I go to him and begin to ravish him, and he never moves a muscle or utters a sound until I've kissed and fondled and sucked the essence of his spirit from him, and when it happens, I look up into his eyes and see what was missing in the painting: the truth of what my boy is, and when I see them mist over with tears, I know he knows that I know. Then he grins at me, and tells me to go and make him a drink of hot chocolate.
While I'm making it, he comes into the kitchen in his dressing gown and hugs me from behind. When I've made it, he takes my hand, pulls me towards the lounge, gets the light control, pushes me on the sofa, snuggles up to me with his drink, and tells me to set the lights to a `romantic mode'.
I do as he asks, turning out all them except the illumination above the Red House in a Park painting, which then basks the room in a warm, orange glow, and I ask, "Do you want any music on?"
"Yes please. Put on that stuff we were listening to this morning."
Fortunately, the CD is still in the player, and I only have to lean back to get the controller to switch the system on and play the Nyctalgia music.
When Aleric has drunk his chocolate, he hands me the cup, I put it on the side table, he snuggles even deeper into my arms, and I hug him and love him while the beautiful music plays. There's no need for words: the painting has moved us both, very deeply.
It's midnight when I gather my sleeping beauty up in my arms, take him to bed, and remove his dressing gown; revealing his beautiful nakedness. Then I shower, and, also naked, get into bed with him. I don't turn out the lights; I need to look at him; at the small boy who owns my soul.
Tears are flooding from my eyes, down my cheeks and onto the pillow as I stare at my Angel of Pie Jesu; my Star in the Hood; this gorgeous creature born of countless generations of Aryan superiority whose destiny was to share a beautiful love with me. Why? I'm nothing special; just a `Joe Soap' who happened to be in a particular place at a particular time. I'm the Chosen One. But why am I thinking like this? I know why: the painting has stirred these emotions.
The Painting. Every painting I have in the apartment was done by Raul. He's a genius. A wayward genius. A friend introduced me to him some years ago. I'd mentioned that I liked Macke's paintings. He took me to Raul's place. Raul was out of his mind that night... stoned on the hard stuff. Too out of his mind to even know I was there. The friend showed the painting to me. It was in his studio; upside down; discarded almost. At first I thought it was a stolen Macke. Then I looked around the studio and saw all his half-finished paintings, and realised that this druggie was capable of great things. A few more visits and something developed between me and Raul. I took him food and beer and a kebab. That's all he'd take from me. He wouldn't sell me the painting. I had a choice: take it as a gift or he'd burn it like he did all his completed works. I tried to get him on the straight and narrow, but it was like trying to persuade me to become a bank clerk. I wanted to get him a nice flat and a proper studio, but he told me to `Fuck off, man'. He asked me to fund his drug habit, but I told him to `Fuck off, man'. He didn't speak to me for three months after that. Then he phoned me one night and asked me to bring him a kebab. I decided to take him a load of food and beer as well as the kebab. It was as if we'd never fallen out. Then I set up an account for him to buy whatever he needed to do his paintings. He accepted that. Then he painted Woman in a Green Jacket and gave it me as a gift. Many more followed, and all it cost me was a few bags of food, some beers and a kebab. And my company. He enjoyed my company, and we'd talk for hours about abstract art. I paid for his medical bills when he was too far gone to even eat. One day he'll die in his hovel, and the world will have lost an unknown genius.
Aleric is breathing softly when I breathe in the breath he exhales and catch the hint of a smell of Big Mac and Fries, and although I'm still weeping, I smile as I trace a finger a centimetre above his features. Where is my boy now? Is he having sex with Raul again? How did they do it? I know what they did. It was the only way Raul could discover the missing part of my boy. Raul would have been on his knees, being dominated by Aleric when that special look came into his eyes. They think I don't know. I knew the moment I came back and Aleric kissed me in front of Raul. It was an open-eyed kiss, and I saw the love Aleric had for me. Raul was behind me, and I knew what he was seeking, and Aleric gave it to him. There will be two new things in Aleric's eyes when I next see the painting: lust and love; and my Angel of Pie Jesu will be complete.
I turn out all the lights except the blue night light in the corner, take hold of Aleric's soft cock and balls, and settle down to sleep. I know for an absolute fact that when he wakes, I'll be required to quench his almost insatiable lust for sex, and only after that will he give me the love I desire so much.
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 email@example.com