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The Angel of Pie Jesu.
By John T. S. Teller.
Book one – Star in the Hood.
Part 33.
Aleric.
New Year's Day, and everybody is just about recovering from the party last night. Kurt slipped out earlier this morning to pick up some cigarettes. He was gone quite a while, and when I asked him where he'd been, he just tapped the side of his nose as if to tell me to mind my own business. I reckon he's been to one of two places: to call on Hansie's former foster parents, or to see Herr Biermaier. Or both. He didn't ask Hansie to go with him, and if Kurt went to his former home, Hansie wouldn't have wanted to go anyway, because he's never really liked them. My hunch is that he's been to see Herr Biermair, because he said he was going to sort him. But talking about it here at home isn't a smart thing to do, so I'll wait until we get back to Berlin before I approach him about it.
After last night, and what me and Gareth did, I've been watching him like a hawk to see if it's affected him in any way. Getting him to let me fuck him was taking a big gamble, but it paid off, and I know now that we really are over the crisis, and even better, us getting things out into the open can only be a good thing. Pussyfooting about led us to that crisis, but it wasn't only Gareth who was doing that; I was too. It was because I felt I couldn't talk to Gareth that I lost it big style. We've got to learn to fall out properly, and then talk about things. That's what mum and dad do, and they always end up clearing the air and making up, and when they do, it's better than it was before. Usually it's mum that wins, but not always. On some things, dad won't change his mind, and mum gives in. They did it just after I got back from the Berlin concert, when they were arguing about granddad not fitting proper central heating. Mum eventually said she'd have a word with granddad, but when I was talking to her in the kitchen about it afterwards, she just grinned and told me she'd said she'd sort it just to keep the peace with dad. She's a crafty sod, is mum. She says I take after her. I think she's right, because after what I made Gareth do last night, he hasn't been able to keep his hands off me whenever he's had the chance. So maybe I'm as good as mum at getting my own way.
We've all had lunch when dad says, "Anybody fancy a trip to Wismar?" Everybody is silent, except for Gunther, who has a sly smile on his face. Dad adds, "There's a boat for sale there. I thought you might like to see it. We can be there in about two hours. That should give us a couple of hours to look over it and see what you think." Dad looks at Gareth. "Have you got over your hangover?"
Gareth grins. "Just about. I'm all for it. What about everybody else?"
That was an hour and a half ago, and we're about three quarters of an hour from Wismar when I look at Gareth, who is concentrating on not losing sight of Gunther driving the new VW with dad and all the others in it. It has seven seats, so that meant I had to travel with Gareth. Not that I would have had it any other way, but it gave me just the excuse I needed to be alone with my Beautiful Man. He glances across at me and grins when he sees me looking at him, and asks, "What are you staring at, Trouble?"
I've got my hand over his on the gear lever, so I move it across and place it on his jean clad thigh, and stroke it before answering him. "I was thinking about last night. Is your bum sore?"
Gareth giggles. "Don't be rude! You're getting as bad as Kurt!"
I chuckle. "You're never going to stop being shy, are you?" Gareth doesn't answer, which makes me chuckle even more. "Wait until I'm wearing a nappy and sucking a dummy, then you'll be shy."
Gareth shakes his head, puts my hand back on the gear lever, then switches on the video player and inserts a Sigur Ros DVD. I lean back, watching both him and the DVD. We've gone another few kilometres when a song comes on that catches my attention, and it upsets me. Gareth notices and goes to flick it onto the next track, but I put out a hand and stop him. I look at the name of the track that's playing: Viðrar vel til loftárása. I want to look away, but I can't. I'm shocked, and tears are falling freely from my eyes as the awful drama of homosexual love plays out. The two boys who are in love aren't much older than me, but it's the blonde haired boy that upsets me. He likes playing with dolls, and I see both Hansie and Kurt in him. But the really horrible person is the man whose son is the one playing with dolls. He hates his son because he's a homosexual, but loves him when he's playing football and scores an important goal. The video ends, and I put my head in my hands and sob like a baby. I hear Gareth ask if I want him to stop, but I shake my head. It takes a long time before I've controlled myself enough to say, "They hate us, don't they?"
Gareth gives me a handkerchief to wipe my face. "Yes. Some of them do. They hate anything that's different. They're control freaks and can't handle something they have no control over. That's when they try to deny it; make it taboo so that they feel comfortable with themselves, even to the point that a father will hate his own child if he's not normal. It doesn't enter their tiny brains that their child has no choice in the matter. But having a queer child demeans them. It takes away their macho image. They're troglodytes. They should carry a big club and go around beating their chests. I'm sorry you had to see that. I forgot that track was on the DVD."
I shake my head. "No, I'm glad I've seen it. It makes me even more determined to live my life how I want to live it, and not how they would want me to live it. But I'm worried about Hansie."
"Why?"
"Because he's like the boy with blonde hair. Somebody is going to hurt him one day, and he doesn't deserve to be hurt. He's had a really shit life until now. He was taken away from his parents when he was two years old because they were drug addicts who didn't care about him, and since then he's been shoved from place to place without anybody loving him."
Gareth reaches across, takes my hand, and grips it tightly. "That will stop now. Heindrich and Kurt love him for what he is, and he couldn't be in better hands. He'll be fine now."
I stare at Gareth. "It's because of you."
"Me?"
"Yes. All this has happened because of you. Everything. You've come into our lives and changed everything. For everybody. Why?"
Gareth shrugs his shoulders. "Who knows why about anything? It happens, and we just have to get on with it." He grins. "We'll start with this new boat your dad seems to think is what we need. He was really excited when he was telling us about it."
I smile at him. "Yes, you're right. Let's put some happy music on, shall we?"
Gareth grins again. Then he sorts through his disks and hides the one he selects from me. I try to see it, but he flicks me away, so I sit back and wait until the music begins to play. And I burst out laughing when Eminem begins to sing Without me. This is a favourite track that Gottwin and I often sing together, and I know every word and every action of the video, and Gareth is helpless with laughter and tears are rolling from his eyes as I sing the song and make the movements as he drives towards part of our new future, and almost the rest of our journey is spent being happy and not morose. But I don't forget the Sigur Ros video, and I determine there and then that for the rest of my life I'll fight discrimination... whatever form it takes.
Just before we arrive at Wismar, just as we're entering an urban area, I'm leaning back in my seat staring out of the side window when a strange feeling shudders right through me. Not only is it strange, but it also makes my heart race and I get a terrible, sickly feeling deep inside whatever I am. Something is wrong, and my immediate thought is of Gottwin. Nothing could affect me like this unless my brother was in big trouble, and because the VW Transporter carrying Gottwin is out of sight, I'm terribly afraid that they've had an accident and Gottwin is hurt badly... or worse! I panic; tears stream from my eyes, and I sit bolt upright and scream at Gareth to go faster and catch them up. He looks at me, concerned, but doesn't question me, puts his foot down, and before long the VW is there in front of us, and there's nothing wrong. Only then, with real concern on his face does Gareth ask, "What was that about?"
I shake my head, and sob deeply into my hands. "I don't know. I had a horrible feeling something was wrong. I thought it was Gottwin. We know things about each other even if we're not together."
Gareth takes my hand and kisses it. "That must be beautiful, or awful, but as you can see, on this occasion you're wrong. He's fine."
I nod, and wipe the tears from my eyes with the handkerchief Gareth gave to me. When I've gathered myself together, I give Gareth a wry grin, and say. "Sorry. False alarm." But even though I know Gottwin is fine, I'm still shaken by the experience. Something, somewhere, was wrong, and the sickly feeling inside me doesn't leave me until Gareth parks the car and we get out and smell the fresh sea air.
Gareth.
Can there be a more distinct smell than that of a fishing port? They have that unique aroma of the sea and the creatures that come from it, and whichever port I've visited in the world, I've always found it refreshing. But it's quiet here today in the late afternoon as I pull the Bentley alongside the maroon coloured VW Transporter containing the rest of the Hahn family and Heindrich and Kurt and Hansie, parked on the quayside in front of a long line of berthed fishing trawlers. I think the smell has affected Aleric, too, because he takes in a great breath of air, and says, "Mmmmmm... just smell at that!"
I put my hand on his shoulder. "You like it, do you?"
Another deep intake of breath. "Mmmmmm. I love it. It reminds me of when I was little and dad was on the boats. It's part of what I am."
We put on our over-clothes and go to the others, who have also wrapped themselves up against the chilling wind that is blowing in from the sea, and who are also breathing in the aroma, and stretching after the long journey. Then I help Gunther with Ralf's wheelchair, and together we get him out of the Transporter and safely into it, and cover his legs with two tartan rugs. Considering we're in a busy fishing port, there are very few people about, but I'm not surprised. We're very much in the middle of the moratorium imposed by the EU to conserve fish stocks, and the vessels before us haven't earned anything for over six weeks, and neither will they for another six.
The place we parked isn't coincidental, we're by a fishing boat with a `For Sale' sign on it; a blue and white trawler that looks as if it's seen better days. But this is where my knowledge of this venture will have to be affected by what Ralf considers best. I'm the ignoramus here, and Ralf has spent his entire adulthood both owning and working in these vessels. I'm looking at the boat when Ralf does something completely unexpected; he calls to me and asks if I wouldn't mind pushing him along the quayside so we can chat. Then he calls to Gunther and asks him to come with us. It's obvious that everyone else in our large party is excluded from this tête-à-tête, but none of them object. We've gone just a short way past where the line of trawlers end and we have a view of the open sea when he asks me to stop. He stares at the sea for quite a while, and then says, "I've changed my mind. First things first. Let's see if we can sort my back out, and then we'll go from there." He looks up at me. "Sorry about that, Gareth, but I really do think it's for the best." Then he looks at Gunther. "You know I'm right, don't you son?"
Gunther places a hand on Ralf's shoulder. "It's taken a weight off my shoulders, dad. I was worried to death about you."
Ralf lifts his hand and squeezes the hand that Gunther has on his shoulder. "I know you were. So was your mother. One step at a time, and going to sea now is a step too far. If I can get my back to some working order, I can always buy a smaller boat and do some day fishing from home." Again he looks at me. "Well?"
I smile at him. "Not a problem. We'll have a smaller boat, but I still want my free fish."
Ralf laughs. "Deal. Let's go home. It's bloody freezing here."
Gretel.
Ralf is in a really good mood tonight, and I know why. I know my man well enough to understand what he's thinking, and even though he didn't say anything, I knew he was apprehensive about the whole boat scheme. On the drive back from Wismar he told me that he'd changed his mind. I'm relieved myself. For all the adaptations they could have made for a disabled person, the Baltic in rough weather is not suitable for anyone who isn't 100% fit. Anyway, purely for selfish reasons I want my man at home with me. There's a lot to do in the immediate future, like supporting the twins in their new venture; like looking for a new home; like taking Ralf to a specialist to see if we can get his back repaired. We won't have time to sit on our backsides feeling sorry for ourselves because one idea has been put on hold. One other positive is that we may be able to spend some time in Berlin. That would be nice, although I'm not so sure Aleric and Gareth would be too pleased if we lodged with them too often. But when Gareth is away, why not? It could be fun.
Because Kurt and Heindrich and Hans will be staying with us for another night, I can't stop chuckling when, after dinner, Ralf tells Gunther to sleep downstairs with Gareth to give the three younger boys more room in the one bed. Gunther is all for it, but the look on Aleric's face tells me all I need to know what he's thinking. Gareth, bless him, is like me, and when he catches my eye, we share a hidden grin. But he's not grinning when he comes into the kitchen later while I'm replenishing the Feuerzangenbowle, and because I was thinking of things that have happened recently, and the matter of the soiled underpants Aleric had in his drawer, and which he gave to Gareth when they went to the Evensong Concert is still very much bothering me, I say to him, "Gareth, do me a favour, please? Let me buy Aleric's underpants in future."
Gareth looks puzzled, and he says, "I've never bought..." He doesn't finish the sentence, and his face reveals a recognition of what I'm referring to, and he mumbles, "OK. I won't." When he leaves the kitchen, I know something is wrong, and for an hour afterwards, Gareth is very quiet, and his face is set hard, and he never touches his drink. Even Aleric has picked up on Gareth's mood, and again when I'm in the kitchen, I get company, but this time it's Aleric who says that there's something wrong with Gareth and he doesn't know what the problem is. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place, and with my back to Aleric, I say, "He's not pleased with me for asking him not to buy you any more underpants."
I thought I knew everything about my boys, but the voice of my beautiful, favourite boy is like nothing I've ever heard before when he says, "Mum, Gareth has never bought me any underpants." And he turns and leaves the room without saying another word, and when I go back into the lounge, Aleric is standing behind Gareth with both arms around his neck, and the pose is one of complete protection, and the look he gives me is one that tells me that I've made a terrible mistake. But if Gareth didn't buy them; who did? Now I'm really puzzled, and angry. Who can I turn to? There's only one person.
I'm shaking like a leaf as I walk with Kurt with his supportive arm around my shoulder after I took him to one side and asked him to take a walk with me because there was something important to discuss. He's told me everything about Biermaier, including dotting all the I's and crossing all the T's about what has happened and what will happen.
Kurt.
I tell Gretel as little as possible. No sense in spelling out the most horrible details. I don't tell her about the anal abuse, or that Hans is a victim of Biermaier. I manage to tone it down to simple interference with a child by a paedophile who has a filthy fetish of needing soiled underpants to feed his perversions, and it was Biermaier who bought them, and not Gareth, and that Gareth knew nothing about them. And of course, it was all done against Aleric's will. I also have to be at my very best to parry the many searching questions that any mother would have asked if she discovered her child had been molested. The most difficult part is when she associates the abuse Aleric has suffered from Biermaier with the affair he's having with Gareth, but I even manage to pacify her in that regard by telling her that it's Gareth who's made me get rid of Biermaier or he would kill him for what he's done. My coup-de-grâce is telling her that Gareth is Aleric's saviour from the abuse. That seems to hit the right note, because her words: God sent him to us, is confirmation that he's in the clear now. But the most difficult part is yet to come.
When it's time for bed, Gretel handles it brilliantly. She plots and schemes, getting everybody to bed except herself, Gareth, Aleric, and me. She even managed to get Gunther drunk enough that he wouldn't know whether he was coming or going when it came to the sleeping arrangements, and enough alcohol in Ralf for him to go to sleep almost immediately after they'd gone to bed. But I have to do my own plotting, and during the final throes of the evening, I explain things to Heindrich, and manage to have a quiet word with Gareth and Aleric and tell them what's going on. Apparently, they'd already been talking and wondered how the matter of the underpants could be explained away, because no way was Aleric going to have his mother thinking it was Gareth that bought them. And so we have our secret rendezvous in the lounge before a roaring log fire; Gareth in one rocking chair, Gretel in another, and me and Aleric kneeling on the rug in front of the fire.
It's Gretel who begins the inquisition when she points at Aleric and tells him to sit by her legs so she can be near him, and when she puts both hands on his shoulders and says, "Kurt has explained about Biermaier." Then she looks at Gareth. "I'm sorry I thought it was you who bought the underpants, Gareth."
Gareth shrugs his shoulders. "Without knowing about Biermaier, who else could you possibly think bought them? But I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
Aleric begins to cry, and turns and buries his head in his mother's lap. Gretel leans her head down, and kisses him repeatedly. "Shhhh. It's not your fault my little man. Not your fault at all, and I'm not blaming you for anything. I'm just glad that it's all over. Kurt tells me that Biermaier has finished with the choir and he has twenty eight days to get out of the country. Maybe that's the best way. Nothing can change what he's done, but if you had to go to court if we reported him, it would be an awful ordeal for you. No, what's done is done, and if you think you can put it behind you, then we can get on with trying to make things better for you. Can you put it behind you?"
Despite his sobbing, Aleric nods, and mumbles, "I already have, mum. It's just horrible to me that you've had to find out. That's what's really hurting me. It's spoiled the whole of our New Year."
More soothing noises, and more kisses from Gretel, and she says, "No, that's where you're wrong. This New Year has put the past behind us. Completely. Just one month, that's all God needed to put the past behind us and give us all a new beginning. I've been thinking about what he's done. It's truly amazing. He brought Gareth to you - to us; gave dad new hope; Gottwin too; has given Hansie new parents and made both of them very happy, and has removed you from the clutches of that vile man. It's truly, truly amazing. And now the New Year is here, we can all start with a clean slate. So, rather than spoiling the New Year, the last vestige of what was in the past has been cleansed. Think of it that way: it was meant to be; God's will." Then she gets up and points a finger at me. "You, thank you, but go to bed! And make sure Gottwin goes back with you and Heindrich and Hans tomorrow." Then she taps Aleric on the head and points at Gareth. "These two need some space to sort their future. They can start tonight by staying down here on the sofa. Right, come on!"
I get up, and so does Gretel. Aleric gets up and hugs his mother very tightly, and then Gretel and I go up the stairs together. On the landing at the top of the stairs, she stops and opens her arms. I give her a huge hug. She grins, and puts her fingers to her lips. "Shhhhh! Don't you dare wake anybody up!"
I giggle, and whisper, "I wouldn't dare, you old battleaxe!"
Aleric.
The moment mum and Kurt have left the room, I go to Gareth and sit on his knee. He puts his arms around me and lets out a shuddering sigh. While I'm stroking his cheek, he kisses me gently on the lips. It's a loving kiss and not a passionate one, and I feel an overwhelming sense that I need to protect my Beautiful Man tonight, and because by now I know exactly how he ticks, that's exactly what I do, and when we're lying on the sofa/bed together, both of us are wearing locked underpants. Tonight is about love, and not that.
**********
Gareth.
2nd January, in my apartment in Berlin, Aleric is inconsolable as he kneels on the bed, staring at the painting that's propped against the wall in our bedroom, with me kneeling behind him and hugging him.
It was waiting to be delivered by a friend of Raul's when we arrived, along with the news that Raul was dead, from a drug overdose, he thought. Aleric was so shocked, he collapsed, and I had to carry him up to the apartment, and Raul's friend, Dominik, brought up the painting in the other lift. While I was holding Aleric on the sofa, Dominik explained things to me. On New Year's Day, Raul had telephoned him asking him to deliver a painting to my apartment, had given him a hundred Euros, and told him to keep trying to deliver the package. It was after the second attempt to deliver it that he went back to Raul's place and found him dead, and called a doctor and the police, and they're dealing with it now. He tried to deliver the painting again today – twice – and finally caught us as we arrived and he was about to go away. After I'd got a few more details from Dominik about what was happening to Raul's body, I gave him another hundred, got his telephone number from him, and sent him away.
The cardboard wrapped painting was addressed to my address, but to Aleric, and not me, and when he'd recovered, it was he who unwrapped it. There was a note and an A4 sized Google terrain map on photo paper attached to the painting, and after he'd read the note, he broke down again, and gave it to me. I looked at the scrawled handwriting...
Dear Boy,
Don't be sad when you hear of my death. Because of you, my life is now complete, and I go from this world in a state of complete happiness. You have brought me unimaginable joy, a gift of completion that only the blessed can know. You will understand. When you look at the painting, remember that magic moment when you revealed to me who you were. Be true to yourself, and never forget Raul, who loves you.
Yours forever,
Raul.
Ps. You can do one thing for me. I've left a map of a part of Spain for you. On it is a marked cross, which is the exact place where I first met you when I was six years old. You might not understand yet, but you will one day. It's very spiritual, and beautiful. Please scatter my ashes where I've marked the cross, and leave a part of you with me. Then I will rest in peace for evermore. Thank you my precious boy.
Aleric stops crying, turns his head up to me, and looks into my eyes. He whispers, "Kiss me."
I wipe the tears from his face, stroke the hair from his forehead, and kiss him very tenderly. He breaks the kiss, points at the painting, and says, "It's beautiful, isn't it."
I rub my head along his cheeks when I say, "Yes. It's magnificent. Beyond beautiful. I'm stunned by it."
Aleric sniffles. "What do you see in it?"
I kiss his cheek. "I daren't tell you."
Aleric rubs his cheek on the stubble on my chin, and says, "You know, don't you?"
I nod. "It was the only way he could know what I see when it happens."
Aleric looks up into my eyes. "Are you angry with me?"
I kiss his forehead. "No, of course not."
"Does it make you jealous?"
I stare deeply into his eyes. "Should I be?"
Aleric's voice is almost a whisper when he says, "No. Raul was special because he understood me. Or the spirit inside him understood me. Probably better than you ever will, but that doesn't matter. You don't need to understand me to be the most special person in my life. All you need to do to keep our love alive is to accept me for what I am; for what Raul understood." Then Aleric gets off the bed, and in a mad frenzy, rips off all his clothes and stands naked before me, rubbing his hands sensually over every curve of his magnificent body; his cock almost touching his belly because it's so aroused with passion. He looks deep into my eyes, and says, "Is this what the painting says?"
I break the gaze into his eyes and look at the beautiful, sexy creature before me, and I know it is. Very slowly, with tears streaming from my eyes, I nod, and then look back into Aleric's triumphant eyes.
Aleric suddenly gets on the bed, pushes me onto my back, squats on my chest, and stares down into my eyes. I look deeply into them, at the eyes in the painting, back at the real ones, and say, "Whoever you are, I love you."
Aleric.
The first one happens while Gareth is still dressed. I can't mess about waiting for him to take his clothes off as I scramble up his body to shove my pinkler into the warmth of his mouth, and he's only sucked me for a short while before I feel myself exploding in a frenzy of pent up passion. Raul understood me, and I'm honouring his words: Be true to yourself. Tonight, I intend being just that, and I'll have to see if Gareth can cope with the real Aleric Hahn; the one Raul has released from his boyhood.
Gareth passes the first test, and when it's over and he squeezes out the few drops of semi-white semen from the end of my still hard pinkler and swallows it, I'm already thinking what I have in mind for part two. It requires that I'm thoroughly clean for my Beautiful Man.
There's at least ten centimetres of bubbles on top of the water in the spa bath, and I tease Gareth by pushing my bum above them. He tries to grab me, but I squirm out of his grasp and sit away from him on one of the jets. He beckons a finger at me, and says, "Bring that here!"
I grin, ignore him, hold on to the side of the bath and push myself up until my hard pinkler is sticking above the bubbles. He giggles when I push my foreskin on and off my swollen knob to tease him even more, and then I say, "Do you think I'm beautiful and sexy?"
He's not smiling now, and he stares into my eyes when he says, "The most beautiful and sexy creature in the world."
I return his stare, and ask, "How much do you love me?"
"More than anything."
My gaze is fierce when I say, "Prove it!"
Gareth puts his head to one side, puzzled by my remark, and he asks, "How can I prove it?"
My heart is beating wildly when I go across the bath, lie on top of him, and stare into his eyes. "Pretend you're loving me and Gottwin!"
Gareth's eyes search mine for any signs that I'm fooling, and when he realises I'm deadly serious, he grabs me roughly, locks his lips on mine, and we exchange the most fabulous, sexy kiss. Then he pushes me away, and says, "Is that what you really want?"
I nod to him and whisper hoarsely, "Yes. We share everything."
"Even me?"
"Yes... even you."
"Even my love?"
I think carefully about what Gareth has asked me, his words burrowing down to the core of whatever I am, and I shudder. Gottwin is more than a brother to me; he is also part of what I am. My love for Gottwin is the most precious love in the world, even more beautiful than that I have for mum and dad and Gunther, and even more valued than the love I have for Gareth. Very slowly, I nod my head. "Yes. That too. I want to watch your eyes when you're doing things to Gottwin as well as me. I need to know!"
Gareth caresses my cheeks with the back of his fingers. "You need to see what Raul saw, don't you!"
I nod furiously. "Yes! That's exactly what I need to see! I need to understand myself, and I can't do that without I see what Gottwin sees! That's why tonight you're going to love Gottwin and me!" I grab Gareth's head and shake it. "What do I look like when it happens? Tell me!"
Gareth whispers, "Like a German."
"What do you mean?"
Gareth stares into my eyes for a long time; he strokes the contours of my face and head and shoulders; and then he says almost as if he's in a trance, "Crazy; stunning; cruel; luscious; commanding; beautiful; deviant; sensual; masochistic; utterly desirable; powerful - sadistic even, but an angel who it's impossible not to fall in love with."
Tears are in my eyes now. I begin to sob, and I ask, "Am I worth dying for?"
Gareth crushes me to him and sobs with me, and I hear him whisper, "Yes. It would be a pleasure to die for you."
In the background is the music of Nyctalgia playing very softly; the soft blue light the only illumination in the bedroom, but it adds an almost supernatural glow to the face of my Beautiful Man while I lie in his arms as he sleeps. It's been three hours since we bathed in the spa, and now I'm utterly and completely spent of my sexuality.
When Gottwin and I presented our nakedness to him to do our bidding, Gareth devoured every special place on and in our bodies - many times; teased our emotions to breaking point where we fainted twice; left us bruised by his passions. His semen is everywhere: inside us, swallowed twice when we sucked him off, and twice when he fucked us so hard that our jaws were rattling as he pounded us. But he never did anything that we didn't want... that Gottwin and I didn't want. Gareth didn't escape unscathed. He's covered in love-bites from his chest to his thighs when Gottwin and I devoured his gorgeousness.
Our fantasy drew us to unimaginable heights of sexual frenzy, even to him calling me by my brother's name when he filled me with his semen when he first fucked me. But, bless my Beautiful Man, on the final occasion he whispered to me, `I love you, Aleric'. I don't think he realised how important that was to me, because those words broke the spell of my moment of madness, and brought me back to reality.
Tomorrow is Wednesday 3rd January when we have our first meeting with Frau Müller. 11 am. Gottwin and Hans had better be at their very best, because I intend that Gareth will be proud of Die Drei Engel - The Three Angels.
And so will Raul. To others he looked like a tramp, but when I reached my peak and he swallowed my semen, I saw a beautiful, familiar spirit sparkling in his eyes, and as long as I live, he'll always be a part of what I am. But he was that before. The strange, awful, sickening feeling I had when we were driving to Wismar wasn't because there was anything wrong with Gottwin, it was because Raul's beautiful spirit connected with me as it left his body. And he was with me tonight. Raul and I were at our very best, and if he were here in bodily form with me now, he'd have a grin on his sauce smeared face if he heard Gareth's description of me. `Crazy; stunning; cruel; luscious; commanding; beautiful; deviant; sensual; masochistic; utterly desirable; powerful - sadistic even, but an angel who it's impossible not to fall in love with.' There are a few traits I need to work on to get the description perfect. But, Raul, that's for another day, and when I study the painting properly, and discover more about myself, I may be able to add a few more, eh?
**********
I originally intended that part 33 would be the final part of this first book – Star in the Hood – the first book of the trilogy of The Angel of Pie Jesu. However, to thank all the readers who have written in to me expressing their interest in the story, and saying how they've enjoyed it, I have decided there will be an Epilogue to follow this part, which I will upload later this week. It's already written, and with a knowing grin on my face, I can safely say that I think many of you will enjoy it. *wink*
So... to be continued with part 34.
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.