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 28.


Gareth is up early this morning, dressed, drinking coffee and sitting at the breakfast bar at his laptop when I get up at nine-thirty. I ask him to go back to bed with me. He giggles and suggests I switch on one of the porn channels – 481 if I want the gay one. I take a shower, and then drag him to the bedroom.


After I've torn his clothes off, he puts his tongue up my bum and wanks my rock hard pinkler while I'm in the 69 position and on my knees on top of him, and he brings me to two shuddering climaxes before I just lie there, completely relaxed with my head on his belly, fondling his pubic hair and kissing his pinkler while he fondles me down there. Then he smacks my bum and makes me turn round, and we kiss and love and talk for ages. When I say I want to reward him, he says it isn't necessary. I get angry and tell him that it's important to me, so, eventually, he lets me do it. I'm not being completely unselfish - our talking has made me feel randy again, because when we were talking, some of it was about what I feel like when he puts his tongue in me and how sexy it makes me feel. We can talk about most stuff now without being embarrassed. In fact, we sometimes giggle and laugh about it, especially when I make fun of him about the nappy and the dummy, and I enjoy teasing him about how shy he was when we first met. I eventually do him by doing what I did to Herr Biermaier; I sit on him and work him off with my bum, and when he's squirted his stuff up his belly, I sit in it and rub it round my bum while he wanks me off again. That's really sexy, but because we're both in a mess, we have to shower afterwards.

      While we're having breakfast, we talk about Herr Biermaier for the first time since he discovered about me and him. Well, we don't really talk about him as in what had happened to me, but Gareth says Kurt is going to sort him because of what he did to me and Hansie. That's after I say I don't want to go back to the Church School because he's there. Apparently, and I don't know how it's going to happen, Kurt has told Gareth that Herr Biermaier won't be at the school or the choir anymore.

Then we talk about me and Gottwin and Hansie training to be a group. He says it might pose some difficulties, because Hans is living in Berlin now, and he suggests the answer might be for me and Gottwin to live in Berlin during the week, and have our own educational tutor and a music teacher, and go home at weekends, but it would all depend on mum and dad agreeing to it. I'm all for that, because it will mean we can live with him all week, but then he points out that, quite often, he has to travel to different parts of the world on business. We end up with him saying that I should leave it to him to sort out, and that we'll tell Gottwin about his plans at lunch. We're going home tomorrow. It's all arranged. We're driving up so we get there for about three in the afternoon, and then we'll all spend New Year's Eve together. I'm hoping I can sneak downstairs when the party's over. Gareth will be sleeping on the sofa as usual... I hope!


We're not spending much time with Hansie today. Gareth is taking me and Gottwin out to lunch at the Hotel Adlon, he says, and then, because he wants to introduce us to the lady who works for him, we're driving down to his boat somewhere. He's finished his work now, and tells me to get ready because I'm still not dressed. He's taking us to Kurt's place first to choose some clothes for us. Although Kurt doesn't usually work on Sundays, he's arranged to meet us at eleven, with Gottwin.


Hansie and Kurt and Gottwin are there when we arrive. We start having a bit of fun, but Kurt soon puts a stop to it, and while Gareth sits in the office with Heindrich, in a very businesslike manner, Kurt selects and fits the clothes for us. He does have a bit of fun with me though, brushing my pinkler with the back of his hand when he's adjusting the tracksuit bottoms he said we've got to wear. I clout him on the head, and he giggles. Then he looks up at me, and asks, "How did it go last night?"

I decide to be really cheeky, and I say, "OK. But you forgot that something that really tickles."

Kurt can't stop laughing, and then he whispers in my ear, "Leave it to your Aunt Kurt. I'll sort it for you." Then he lifts his eyebrows, and says. "You're quite a big boy!"

I laugh. "Don't be disgusting!" And then I give him a really naughty look, and say, "Just make sure it really tickles."

Kurt presses my thigh. "I've got something that will make your teeth chatter. I'll sneak it into one of the drawers in your bedroom when we get back from the seaside. Don't let Gottwin get hold of it, or you won't get a look in."



I'm behind the boys when they get out of the Bentley at the Hotel Adlon on the Unter den Linden and give the keys to a concierge for him to park it. We're eating Italian, because the boys said they liked Spaghetti Bolognese, so I booked a table at The Gabrielle Restaurant in the hotel.

They look super.

Kurt said he had just the things for them, and because its lunch and not dinner, dress is smart casual at The Gabrielle. They certainly look casual; and they more than look smart. He's dressed them in white and red stylish track-suits with chevrons and logos plastered all over them; white open neck collared t/shirts, and white and red trainers.

A number of tourists visiting the Brandenburg Gate, which is almost next to the famous Hotel Adlon (made even infamous when Michael Jackson hung his baby out of the window), look at them when they get out of the car, and I see a couple - probably thinking the boys are celebrities - taking photographs of them as they wait for me to give the keys to the concierge, and the thought crosses my mind that if I can make them famous, they'll have to get used to the publicity. The tourists probably think I'm their impoverished manager. I've dressed conservatively in a grey suit and shirt, a blue tie, and black shoes.

I'm well known here, and Mario gives us his usual exuberant welcome; making a special fuss of the boys as he takes us to our table. Because they're identical twins dressed in identical gear, Mario is stunned at their likeness. When we're seated, he steps back and looks at one to the other a number of times. And then he looks at me, puts up his hands to admit defeat that he can't tell them apart, and shakes his head.

      I laugh, and then point to them individually. "Aleric... and Gottwin." Then I say to the boys, "This is Mario."

Mario bows, shakes hands with the boys, and then says in a heavily accented Italian-German. "Anything a special you boys a want?"

Gottwin grins. "Spaghetti Bolgnese, please, for both of us."

Mario winks at them. "Is a good. Mario will see you get a da finest Spaghetti Bolognese you ever had. For my two a da special boys." He turns to me. "Signor Jones?"

      I grin at him. "Make that three, Mario."

Mario nods. "You want a da wine list?"

I shake my head. "Not today, Mario. I'll have water, and I think the boys would like Coke, please."

"OK. You want a da starter? We have a nice a da Minestrone that Georgio make."

I look at the boys. They shake their heads. "No thank you, Mario. They'll probably have something after."

Mario winks, and grins. "I sort something really a good for da boys."

He goes away, and the boys giggle. I look around. The place is almost full. I know a few of the people at the tables, and nod an acknowledgement to them, and I don't miss the admiring glances from some of the ladies at the exceptional beauty of my two identical boys with their dark-brown, wavy hair that now reaches down to the collar of their track suit tops. When he'd dressed them, Kurt insisted on brushing their hair before we left the shop, and it shines like silk, and I feel like a proud parent sitting with them.

I'm surprised how relaxed the boys are. But I've noticed that before. When they're together, they don't seem afraid of anything, and sitting here in this famous hotel full of money people and famous people, they're not fazed at all.

I lean back, and say to them, "You both need your hair cut."

It's Gottwin who answers. "Mum will do it when we get home."

"She won't have time to cut your hair," I say. "She'll be busy enough looking after everybody."

Aleric says, "Mum will be fine. She's brilliant at that sort of stuff. And I'll help her prepare and wash up afterwards." Then he looks at me. "When are we going to tell Gottwin?"

Gottwin stares at Aleric. "Tell me what?"

I interrupt. "Aleric will tell you after you've had whatever Mario is making especially for you."

He looks puzzled. "That's not fair!"

Aleric grins. "Hard luck. Just eat all your lunch, and then I'll tell you."

We spend the next few minutes teasing Gottwin, and we're laughing and giggling most of the time. Then Mario brings our meals.

My boys are proper boys; they eat, not like pigs - because they eat correctly and diligently - but like horses, and they finish their meal well before I do. Then they sit there wiping Bolognese from their faces with their serviettes; each telling the other where they're stained, and giggling while they do. I try to ignore them, but I can't keep a smile from my face. When I've finished, Mario collects the plates and asks if I want desert. I tell him I don't, and he goes away with a grin on his face after he's asked the boys if they like ice cream and fruit, and they both say they do. When he reappears, he has an even bigger grin on his face, and he presents them with two boats piled high with four different flavours of ice cream, decorated with lots of different fruits. He grins at the boys. "You like?"

The boys laugh, thank him profusely, and Mario goes away wearing an even bigger grin. I sit back and watch the two deserts disappear to a cacophony of giggles and amusing comments. When they've demolished the deserts, they sit back, rubbing their tummies. And then Gottwin says, "So... what's the surprise?"

Aleric looks at me, and I nod. He looks at his brother, and says, "We're going to be a group."

I hold up my hand. "Whoaaaa. Don't get ahead of yourselves." I look at Gottwin. "What Aleric is saying is that, providing you can have your voice trained to sing like your bro and Hansie, then we're going to try and make you into a boy trio."

Gottwin looks angry. "I can sing as well as either of them!"

I put a hand on his across the table. "I reckon you can. Remember when we were coming down to Berlin and I asked you all to sing together?"

Gottwin looks puzzled now, but he's lost his anger. "Yes. You said we were very good."

"You were. I was just testing you. I needed to know just how good you were, but to be professional, you need to have your voice trained properly. OK?"

Gottwin grins, and nods.

I smile at him. "Good. But it's not just you. All three of you will need to be able to do it as a unit. I'm not an expert, so I don't know what you'll need to do, or how long it will take you. All I can do is to put all three of you in the hands of a professional teacher, and we'll see what happens. If you can all gel as a trio, then I'll do my best to make you famous."

Gottwin's face is a picture of happiness and bewilderment. "You mean like the S******** Boy's Choir?"

I shake my head. "Providing you all work very hard, more famous than the S******** Boy's Choir."

"Can you do that?"

I grin. "I can do anything... providing I have the right tools."

Aleric laughs. "So, we're `tools' now, are we."

I try to flick him on the side of the head, but he dodges my fingers. And then I stare into his beautiful eyes, and I recall how I described them to myself the first time I saw them. They're sort of elongated. Not eastern type elongated, but open-wide elongated, and they're the most gorgeous brown with a tint of green in them, with long, dark lashes. And I get butterflies in my tummy when I look into them. Aleric seems to sense my feelings, and his face becomes serious. Then he reaches his hand across the table for me to hold. I take it, and squeeze it. I look at Gottwin. He seems to understand that this is a special moment, and he reaches across to me with his hand. I take his, and squeeze it. Gottwin searches for Aleric's hand, finds it, and they hold hands.

I look each of them in the eyes, and then I ask, "Shall we go for it?" Gottwin almost has tears in his eyes when he nods. Aleric's eyes are misty, too, and he nods. Mine are not exactly dry when I nod, and say, "All we need now is a name for you."

At that moment, Mario comes to our table. I smile at him. "This is a special occasion, Mario. The twins are soprano singers, and along with a friend, they're about to embark on a career as a trio. But we need a name for them."

Mario senses the gravity of the occasion, leans over the table by me, looks at the boys, and says, "If the other young man is as a beautiful as a these a two boys, where I come from, Tuscany, in Italia, we would a call a them, `I Tre Angeli'."

I turn and look up at Mario. "That's beautiful, Mario." Then I turn to the boys and translate The Three Angels into their mother tongue: "Die drei Engel."

Aleric and Gottwin look at each other. They nod enthusiastically, then turn to Mario and smile at him. And then something amazing happens. As one, they get up from the table, go to Mario, and hug him. Mario hugs them back. Everybody in the room is looking at them when he says, "I not a realise my ice cream is that a very good, yes?"

And we all burst out laughing.


The boys are both in the back of the car as I drive down to Schwanenwerder Island on Lake Wannsee where my twenty metre motor yacht is berthed, and where Helena and her husband Joseph are staying. I keep an eye on the boys through the rear view mirror as they practice singing. Aleric has taken on the role of Direktor, teaching Gottwin what he's been taught; how to breathe; mouth movements, etc. If Gottwin was a complete novice, things might be difficult, but he and Aleric have spent hours at home singing together. They would do... they come from a musical family.


My motor yacht is not berthed with the many in the harbour at the entrance to the island; it's berthed in a private mooring beside a piece of land I own, and which has a small bungalow on it, which is used when the weather is bad. I don't spend much time there. It's more a place I do business, and a place I allow friends to stay. There's a small drive to it from the only road on the island – Inselstraße - a ring road that serves all the properties.

      I cross the bridge, and the boys lean forward to see where I'm going. When I turn into the drive and they see the yacht, they're quite excited. I get just one comment. When Aleric see it, he says, "Herr Moneybags again."

I ignore him, and park the car by the bungalow. We get out, stretch our legs, and walk down to the yacht. Although it's cold and overcast, it's not raining or snowing, which is fortunate. Schwanenwerder can be a dismal place when the weather is inclement.

I've phoned Helena, and she and Josef are waiting to greet us, and when we go aboard, she smiles at me and gives me a kiss on each cheek. I shake hands with Josef, and then I introduce the boys.

Helena shakes her head, and says, "They're amazing! Come on... let's go below where it's warm."

I've spoken to Helena many times about Aleric; and I've hidden very little about my affection for him, but always with the slant being on a philanthropic perspective towards him and his family. I wouldn't be able to do anything for Aleric or his family without her being fully involved. She knows everything except the sexual connection between us, and before we came, I drummed it into Aleric that he should try to remain distant from me in that regard. He understood perfectly, and later told me he had made sure Gottwin says nothing untoward.

While Josef shows the boys around the boat, I chat with Helena about things, and thank her for her input with the Hansie situation. She already knows the outcome. Kurt, without my knowledge, sent her a bouquet of roses for her input. He knew where the influence came from.



I like Helena immediately. Although she's older, in some ways she reminds me of my mum. She wears glasses and looks over the top of them like mum does, and she fusses over me and Gottwin like mum does. Josef is slight in build, and doesn't look well, but he's a really nice person, and he's very musically inclined, and very knowledgeable, and he and I talk about various things, including how he was disappointed to have missed us singing. A cruel thought comes into my mind. I'm glad he was taken ill. Had he been well, Gareth and I would never have met. During our conversation, when Gareth brings up the matter of us needing a tutor, it's Josef who, with a knowing smile on his face, says, "Frau Müller."

Helena puts her hands to her chest, and says, "Frau Müller! Of course. Frau Müller!"

      Gareth says, "Frau Müller?"

      Helena has now taken over. "Yes, surely you've heard of her, Gareth?"

Gareth shakes his head. "No."

Helena looks at me and Gottwin. "Have you boys not heard of her either?"

We both shake our heads.

Now Helena shakes her head. "She was a brilliant classical singer. Unfortunately, she contracted a throat illness and couldn't sing properly afterwards. Now, she does private tuition. She's wealthy, and provides bursaries to young, gifted singers. I don't know her personally..."

Josef butts in. "But I do. I've met her a few times at musical functions. I only know her as an acquaintance, but well enough to telephone her and ask if she'd listen to the boys." Joseph looks at Gareth. "Would you like me to phone her and ask if she will?"

Gareth nods. "Yes please, but we're working in a short time scale right now. I'm taking the boys home tomorrow for them to spend New Year's Eve with their family, but we'll be returning late on New Year's Day, or maybe the following day. Then we've arranged they go home on Saturday 6th of January. If she could fit them in from the 2nd to the 5th, then it would be fine. If not, we'll have to make special arrangements for them to travel down another time."

Josef shrugs his shoulders. "We can but try. My phone book is in the office. I'll ring her from there."

When he's gone, Helena makes coffee, brings it to us, and we sit talking about my experiences with the S******** Boy's Choir, and then she asks if I'm going to miss it. I look at Gareth when I say, "Yes. It's been a wonderful experience." I think he's thinking that I'm doing as he asked: keeping our sex part secret and pretending that I would have stayed in the choir had Gareth not been around, but I have to admit to my inner self that the thought of not having Herr Biermaier's long tongue right up my bum again was also a part of my words: `a wonderful experience'.

Josef comes back to the lounge with a big grin on his face, and says, "Wednesday 3rd January. 11 am. Don't be late!"

I punch the air. So does Gottwin. Helena comes behind us, and hugs us. Then she says, "I want a front row seat for me and Josef at your first concert."

Gareth says, "You'll have them."

Just before we go, Josef asks Gareth what he's got on during January.

I see Gareth thinking, and then he says, "I have to go to the Far East on the 8th, and I'll be away for a week. I'm not sure what other arrangements I have. Helena?"

Helena goes to a cabinet and picks up a large diary. "You'll be in London on the 23rd and 24th, and you're in Moscow at the end of the month."

Gareth's and Helena's words hit me like a hammer. I knew my Beautiful Man would have to work, but in my mind I'd equated his work revolving around us seeing each other every weekend, and my birthday is on the 12th, but Gareth says he'll be away for my birthday!



On the drive home in the dark, Gottwin is in the back seat, doing things on his iPad, and Aleric is sitting next to me in the front, and he's very quiet as he looks away from me, staring through the side window. I know what's up with him. He's been down since Helena and I talked about my future trips abroad. I do my usual trick; put my hand on the gear lever for him to place his hand over mine, but after a while, I take it away because he's not interested. I'm in the dog house big style by the looks of it.

      Back in the apartment, he's still got the grumps, I'm getting the cold shoulder and monosyllabic replies even when I try to make conversation, and he eats very little during the evening. I phone Kurt and tell him what we've achieved today, and then wander into the kitchen and explain to him what's happening to Aleric, and why I think its happening.

      Kurt says, "He's sulking. It's what little boys do. Just ignore him. He'll come out of it in his own time. Don't worry."


Little boys. Yes that's what Aleric is. I sometimes forget he's still only thirteen. When I first took him for a drive in my car, I promised him I would be there for him whenever he wanted me, and now the reality is hitting home, to both of us, that those words weren't true. Well, not unless I give up my business and devote my whole life to him. I can't do that. Like everything else in my life, Aleric is in a compartment – the most important compartment – but nevertheless, a compartment. It has to be that way for me to function, and in the long term, for us to function. I'll try to explain things to him when we're in bed later, and especially I'll let him know that I'll be flying back from the Far East for his birthday. He'll be fine when he knows that.


I'm lying in bed, on my own side. The lights are as he likes them: low, but not too low that we can't see each other clearly. But no Aleric.

      I know he's angry with me, but I didn't expect him to carry it on as far as making a non-show, and it looks as though that's what it is. He was the one who said to Gottwin that he was tired and wanted to go to bed early, and all I got from him was a small hug before he disappeared with his brother. It's not the best way to end what has been a good day, but apart from going to him and dragging him to my room, there's little I can do about it.

      I'm depressed – utterly depressed – and I think about doing some work on the laptop to try and ease my mind. But I daren't do that just in case he decides to come to me. The last thing I want is for him to come and find me working when he thinks I should be thinking about him. So I lie with my head in my hands waiting for him. At 2 am, I know he's not coming, and feeling like shit, I drift off to sleep, hoping that he'll come out of his sulk by the morning.

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.