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The Angel of Pie Jesu.

 

By John T. S. Teller.

 

Part 42.

 

Book two: Journey of the Coin.

 

 

Gretel.

The moment they enter the apartment I know all is well. Aleric has a grin on his face so wide that the small crow's feet each side of his eyes look like as though they extend well beyond the hairline of his temples. He comes to me and gives me one of his massive hugs, which last for ages, and I eventually have to shoo him off to catch my breath. Then I hold his head, look into his beautiful, sparkling eyes, and ask, "Are you feeling better?"

 

He grins again. "I'm okay now Mum. How's Dad? Did they find anything out?"

 

"He's fine. He wondered where you were. If they have found anything, they didn't tell us, and your Dad is more concerned about not being able to smoke his smelly pipe than about his back."

 

Aleric looks around. "Where's Gotty and Gunther?"

 

"They've gone out. They've taken a taxi to that shopping centre to have a look around."

 

"The KaDeWe? I wish they'd waited for me! I wanted to buy some new jeans. How long have they been gone?"

 

I look at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's almost ten thirty. "About half an hour."

 

"I'll phone them and see if they'll meet me."

 

"Have you had breakfast?"

 

"Yes Mum," he says as he takes his phone from his coat pocket and goes into the lounge.

 

Then Gareth comes into the kitchen and begins to make coffee. He looks at me, and asks, "Do you want one?"

 

I shake my head. "No thanks. Aleric is thinking of going to that KaDeWe place to meet the boys."

 

Gareth nods his head. "I told him that I needed to go to the office, so he's probably thinking he'll go and spend my money as punishment. You should go with him. You haven't been there yet, have you? They advertise it as the largest store in Continental Europe. You'd have a ball in there. You can go there and buy all your furnishings if you decide to buy that place you've seen by the Wannsee. Did you really like it?"

 

"Yes. It's a pity no one lives there or we could have gone inside and had a look around. But the inside looks fine from the outside. I don't like the colour scheme, but we can soon change that. And the incline down to the water is a bit steep. We'll have to have a proper hard path for Ralf to get his wheelchair up and down."

 

Gareth stirs his coffee, and then comes and leans his back against the worktop where I'm preparing some vegetables. He takes a sip of his coffee, and says, "You don't have much faith that he'll get better then?"

 

"I'm not building my hopes up. Should I?"

 

Gareth doesn't answer, but I can tell that he knows more than we do when he says, "Let's hope for the best." Then he runs a hand through his hair and lets out a big sigh. "I've got a busy day today."

 

I chuckle. "You're going to have to sort your car out. What happened? Did the brakes fail?"

 

He lets out a small laugh. "Something like that. I might need a new one. They're coming to pick it up this morning."

 

I join him with a small giggle. "I suggest you buy an armoured car unless you learn to tame that boy of yours."

 

Gareth's giggle is far louder than mine, and then he says, "Mine? Yours you mean. You're the only one who can handle him!"

 

"I've had a lot of practice, and practice makes perfect. And a bad temper won't help."

 

Then Gareth says something that makes my blood go cold. "That bloody painting isn't helping. I wish I'd never asked Raul to do it now."

 

I feel my own temper rising, but I manage to control it, and I don't think Gareth can sense the deep feelings when I say, "We'll talk about the painting when Aleric has gone shopping. If he goes that is. You do have time for a small chat... do you?"

 

Gareth looks directly at me. "I'll make time. I'll have to wait for the garage to pick the car up before I go anyway."

 

Just then, Aleric comes into the room and says he's spoken to his brothers and he's going to get a taxi to join them unless Gareth will drop him off. Gareth surprises me and says he'll take him in the Golf and drop him off in about fifteen minutes if he can be sure his brothers will be there to meet him, so Aleric phones again. I hear all he says, and when he's finished, he says, "They'll meet us by the main entrance in fifteen minutes."

 

Gareth empties his coffee, and then takes Aleric to their bedroom, and I hear a few harsh remarks from Gareth that he's to stay with his brothers and that he needs to change into something warmer before he goes. I chuckle to myself. They're acting like an old married couple. Eventually, Aleric comes into the kitchen wearing blue jeans, a heavy blue pullover under his leather bomber jacket, blue and white trainers, and the scarf of Gareth's that he's adopted permanently. He checks to see that he's got his wallet, and then he comes and gives me a huge hug. I kiss his soft hair, turn him around, and push him away from me. "Go! And be careful!"

 

He grins and goes to join Gareth, who calls from the lounge, "I'll be back in half an hour. Is there anything you need?"

 

I yell back. "Yes... just some peace and quiet." Then I leave the kitchen and go and stand by the panoramic widow to watch them leave. They spend a couple of minutes inspecting the damage to the posh car, and then Gareth clips Aleric around the ear before they get into the other car, both grinning. That makes me grin. They're back to normal... thank God! But when they've gone, I go into their bedroom and look at the painting.

 

**********

 

That bloody painting isn't helping. I wish I'd never asked Raul to do it now. I stare at it. One boy on a bed of feathers, but its three boys.

 

I sensed the moment the twins were born that Norbert was back with us. It was the exact moment when I stopped pining for him. That's how I knew. That's when I was happy again. There was only one person I could speak to about it... the chaplain. But that's when I left behind the Christian teachings from my childhood; my Lutheran background. The chaplain would have none of it, even condemning me as committing blasphemy when I explained my feelings. That's when I went to the Spiritualist Church, and there I again explained my feelings. Pastor Anderson was good to me... explaining the teachings of his church and their belief in predestination and their acceptance of spiritual transition. He told me that I was not the first mother who had experienced what I had after the loss of a previous child. But I'm sure he would never be able to explain to me how a Spanish painter, having met only one of my boys, could recreate all three in one painting. There's only one way Raul could have done it... when he took my boy's creational juices containing the very essence of his being, and in so doing, he saw the spirit that enjoined them all. The painting represents The Spirit! But I haven't got a clue what all the symbols mean that Raul painted into it.

 

**********

 

When Gareth comes back, he finds me still sitting in their bedroom, staring at my boys, and he immediately sits beside me and puts an arm around my shoulder. And I tell him everything.

 

********** ********** ********** ********** **********

 

Gareth.

I listen to all that Gretel tells me, and because I'm completely lost with the situation and I need help, I tell her everything that's happened since Aleric left them on the way back from the Wannsee. Not about our night out in Kreuzberg (that's Aleric's and my personal affairs, of which she has no part to play), but everything else, and that includes the tin box that is now sitting in my wardrobe. She looks at me; I look at her; and without another word, we get up from the bed and go to the wardrobe. I take out the tin box, give it to her, and say, "This might belong to you. It certainly doesn't belong to me. Aleric might have something to say about me giving it to you, but I honestly don't think he can handle it Gretel. Goodness knows what's in the box, but I'm really afraid that it might flip his lid if it's something else to add to this mystery. As a matter of fact, the hairs on the back of my head are standing up just touching it. I'm not used to this sort of stuff."

 

Gretel smiles as she takes the box from me, and then she touches my arm as a sign of affection. "Thank you Gareth. You're a good man, but you're involved in things that you shouldn't be. That doesn't mean that you don't have a part to play, but I think you're being used by whatever as a conduit. I'm beginning to understand now."

 

I stare into her eyes. "I'm glad you do. I'm completely lost, but I do have one great worry in all this now."

 

"And what's that?"

 

For a long time I stare at her, and then I finally decide to say what I'm thinking. "I love your boy more than life itself, and I'm very afraid now."

 

"And why is that?"

 

I take a deep breath and fight back my emotions. "In the sometimes brutal world I live, a conduit is usually discarded after it's served its purpose."

 

Gretel tucks the tin box under one arm, links my arm tightly with the other, smiles at me, and says, "We're all God's conduits, and my God is a good God. If he discarded you, he would destroy my boy. Aleric's love for you is equal to yours for him. Now let's try and get this damned box open!"

 

**********

 

We're sitting together; the box in front of me on a treble-thick cloth so as not to scratch the furniture; and Gretel has an assortment of women's clips and curlers in front of her. Some have long been discarded and now lie useless and twisted in the middle of the dining table, but there are still quite a few left. I've tried screwdrivers of various sizes (Aleric would kill me if he'd seen me trying to prise it open), but to no avail. I also have a pair of pliers that I'm using to twist and shape the various instruments into key-like tools. Then Gretel gets up and goes to her bedroom, returning with a bunch of keys on a keyring. They're all too big or of the wrong type to fit the box, but Gretel says to try and form one of my instruments to match the part of the keys or whatever that make a lock open. So I do, even tapping the thing into shape with the blunt back of one of my heavy carving knives. I insert it, and it gets stuck. I can neither turn it nor get it out. After a while, just after I say that I'm going to use brute force to remove it, Gretel takes the box and the pliers from me and begins to fiddle. Click! And the lid moves a few millimeters from its base. I stare at Gretel; she stares at me, and then we both grin. She's unlocked it!

 

**********

 

I sit right back in my chair. I want no part of this. This is a Hahn thing, and I'm a bloody Rhys-Jones from South Wales. Let the Hun do their own dirty work! Gretel looks at me for permission to proceed. I put two flat hands up to display my reluctance to get involved, move even further back in my chair, and say, "You do it! For all I know, a genie could pop out from the bloody box."

 

She opens the lid. I peek over the top of it. I might not want to get in the box, but I've always been a nosy bugger. The first thing she takes out is an old Esso map of Spain and Portugal. I'm not afraid of that, so I pick it up and study it for a short moment before looking again at what Gretel is taking out of Pandora's Box, or in this particular case: Raul's Box. But I see little difference between the two. Both are full of surprises, and one of those is a bundle of old photographs. But the greatest surprise is one that shocks me to the core but puts a massive smile on Gretel's face. She takes out a small gold coin and shows it to me, and she's still smiling even though tears are rolling from her eyes when she puts the coin to her lips and kisses it repeatedly. Of course, I know exactly what it is. I'm in absolutely no doubt that it's the very same coin that Gretel wrapped in Norbert's hand with bandages before he was interred. Well, it may be one exactly like it. I'm not sure, but Gretel seems to be convinced when she looks at me and says, "Only you and I are ever to know of this, Gareth. This is a secret that we will carry to our grave. Can I count on you?"

 

"Not even Ralf?"

 

She shakes her head. "Not even Ralf. You can never understand. I don't expect you to. That's not a reflection on you as a person... it's just that I know it's my burden to carry alone. And if you're wondering where the coin came from, I found it on the beach when I was a child while I was searching for amber. I'm not even sure that it's really gold. Whatever was on the face originally has worn off, but when I showed it to my father, he bit it and said it was gold. Had it been a lot bigger, he may have taken it from me. Instead, he told me to keep it and that it would always bring me luck. I think he was saying it just to sow seeds in a child's imagination, but from that moment on, that's exactly what went through my mind. And when I gave it to Norbert when he was passed over, although I was filled with grief and very mixed up at the time, it was always in my mind that it would bring his spirit luck. It seems to have worked."

 

I reach across and hold her hand tightly. Then I smile at her, and say, "I'll never tell anyone, but I'm still in the dark about what this is all about."

 

"So am I, Gareth. So am I. But I know that part of the mystery has been solved."

 

"And what part is that?"

 

"You and us. I've often wondered why you came to us. Yes, I know! Aleric and his beautiful voice. But that was a conduit. Raul, you, Aleric, me, Norbert. Maybe we're one long conduit. Maybe there are more parts to it. We won't know until something presents itself. Now get off to the office and we'll tell Aleric that all there was in the box was the map and the photographs. I've no doubt he'll be inquisitive about those. You know what he's like when he's got a bee in his bonnet."

 

I chuckle. "He's asked me to marry him now he's fourteen."

 

Gretel breaks down with amusement. When she's controlled herself, she asks, "And have you said `yes'?"

 

I shrug my shoulders. "I have little choice in the matter. He says we'll do it informally, like going to church with nobody else there and exchanging rings. He says that will do for him. I suppose it's not a lot to ask. I mean, unless Kurt changes into a bloody fairy and provides him with a glass slipper and six white horses and a pumpkin, as long as we get all this sorted before midnight, so to speak, it should be okay."

 

Gretel chuckles even more, and then we both come together in a hug while we're giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.

 

********** ********** *********** ********** **********

 

Herr Biermaier.

The sun is hot. Even in the middle of winter it's hot here during the day when the sun is out. But that's good. I can sit in my secret spot behind the scramble of rocks and observe the two boys swimming naked in the small lake just a half kilometer north of the village. Two gorgeous creatures they are; both with black hair and golden bodies. The eldest, about twelve, is especially beautiful, and that's because he has a pinkler of exceptional size for a boy his age. But the younger boy is gorgeous, too. He's about ten... just slightly chubby, no doubt putting on a bit of puppy fat before a growth spurt. It's what happens to boys. They're like flowers growing in the garden. The older boy has opened his petals, and the little one is about to blossom. Gorgeous! Exactly as I like them.

 

They look like brothers. They act like brothers. I've been watching them for about a week now and not once have they done anything sexual. Non-brothers would have at least had fun by showing the other that his pinkler had gone hard when the sun was caressing it. It's what happens to little boys their age in mutual naked togetherness. They don't have to have a gram of gayness in them to get the feelings. Boys will be boys, and as they've done since time began, boys will always play and experiment with each other... or with girls if the opportunity arises. But not so much with brothers, and rarely with sisters.

 

I use the telephoto lens to take more pictures of them, even panning in to take a good one of the older boy's lovely pinkler. Yes, he is blessed! They've been out of the water for a while now, playing at throwing stones at a piece of floating wood some twenty metres out to see if they can get the wood to come back to the pebbled shoreline of the lake.

 

The sun and their efforts have really warmed their bodies, and their genitals that had shrunk and retracted because of the cold water, have now relaxed, and distended even. When I pan right in on Big Boy's groin, his testicles are so well developed that they've stretched his ballsac. This boy is also well-developed sexually, and I can pretty much guarantee that he is one of those boys who has been able to produce semen since he was a year or two younger. His beautiful pinkler matches his testicles. Hanging down over the extended ballsac, it has a thick shaft; a nice bulge under the foreskin denoting an even thicker glans, and hanging from the end is a long tip of foreskin that I know will fill nicely when the boy is aroused. There are also other signs that make me think the boy is more sexually mature than his years. Unlike the little boy who has almost no curves to his waist, Big Boy has a shapely one. He's quite tall for his age, and although he's slim, there is definition to his fine body. He's well into puberty, even though I can see no signs of pubic hair. But the real signs are in his legs and buttocks. He has good boy legs, and his buttocks are well developed and shapely: two orbs of golden joy to a man of my persuasion.

 

He reminds me of Mathias, the sweet boy who came onto me as quickly as I came onto him... literally. That was about ten years ago. I was sucking him off for the first time, and he thought I wouldn't like it if he came in my mouth, so during the last few seconds before his climax, he withdrew and spurted a few ropes of his boy nectar onto my face, wanking himself to make sure he didn't lose the feelings at the end. And then he looked apologetically at me. Of course, I soon reassured him that I was more than happy at what he'd done, and just to make him feel less guilty, I let him do the same for me, covering his face and body in the extra semen I'd produced because I was so worked up. He liked that, so we did it often afterwards. It was a beautiful, sticky affair was that with Mathias.

 

Little Boy is a stunner, too. Everything about him is chubby-ish, even his small ballsac and the tiny pinkler that doesn't hang lower than his small sac. I can guarantee that he'll have testicles that are difficult to locate. They'll be there, growing in that small sac, but I reckon it will be another three years before he's ready to venture into puberty. But that doesn't mean he isn't desirable. I'm quite partial to the occasional little boy, especially when he has chubby buttocks to rub my pinkler along. A little oil, lying flat on their bellies, and it's like being inside them when they voluntarily squeeze their juicy orbs together. And the magic moment can be more than satisfying if one can locate the sphincter to end the game. But penetration is difficult at that age... especially with one as big as mine. I have managed it a couple of times, but it usually ended with me being the loser. Being sucked; rimmed; even buttock-fucked... they'll accept that and enjoy most of it, but pain is usually a complete turn-off. That has to come later, after an extended period of boy-management, which includes widening them up in various stages: finger; fingers; small vibrating dildo; larger vibrating dildo; anal beads; butt plugs, and then the real thing, but they're about thirteen when you reach that stage. Aleric was younger, but the real aberration in that regard was Hansie.

 

The `Hansies' of this world are few and far between... that's why I miss my little man so much. He's a rarity. He actually enjoys some pain with his sex, and he's by far and away the greediest boy when it comes to wallowing in semen. He loves it smeared all over his tiny body and I reckon he'd bathe in it if I could produce that much. Ahhhhh... I miss my little man, and I'm pretty sure he's missing me. Well, I'm certain he's missing my tongue.

 

I watch the boys for a short while longer, and then, because I've wanked twice while I was watching the boys and I'm also getting stiff in my joints, I decide to call it a day and set out on the long walk back up the steep hillside that's difficult for me and which almost gives me a heart attack by the time I get to Casa Bonanza. (I still chuckle at the name Pieter gave it.) But I have an idea. What if I could get these two boys to come and swim in my swimming pool up at the house? That would save me a lot of discomfort. I could try it. Why not pretend to be out for a stroll and accidentally come across them? Yes, I could do that, and then offer them the opportunity to come and swim in my pool.

 

**********

 

Despite the steep climb up the long, dusty path, I'm smiling to myself. I think I may have persuaded the boys to come and swim in my pool.

 

They were surprised when I walked up to them and smiled. Little Boy didn't hide his pinkler, but Big Boy immediately covered himself up with his hand. I pretended to be not interested, and using what little Spanish I could speak, I made small jokes about snakes and creepy-crawlies biting their bums in the lake. It took enormous willpower not to ogle them, but I almost managed it. Eventually, I pointed to the blue and white house on the hill to tell them that's where I came from, and then made swimming movements with my arms to indicate they could swim there, accompanied with the words `piscina' (swimming pool), `gratis' (free), `puro' (clean), `cuando quieras' (any time you please). And then I bid them a nonchalant `Adiós' and walked away as if I didn't care whether they came or not, but not before I saw Big Boy study both me and the house, weighing up his options without committing to anything. I was delighted with that. Clever boy was thinking on his gorgeous feet... probably about what other freebies could be on offer. And he did one more thing that made me almost certain that he knew what sort of person I was... he dropped his hand from in front of his pinkler, and he most certainly wouldn't have missed my eyes being automatically drawn towards it. That's when I walked away, and when I cast a quick glance back, he was watching me and rewarded me with a grin. I reckon it won't be too long before curiosity gets the better of him, and if he does show up, he will have weighed up all his options when he does show his face.

 

********** ********** *********** ********** **********

 

Gareth.

I've already removed the handgun and the retaining shelf that was designed for it (only my coachbuilder friend, Thomas Schaffernacker, knows about that... designing and fitting it himself after-hours to keep it a secret), and I've packed both away in a place in the apartment that I know will be safe, and not long after my conversation with Gretel, Thomas arrives with two of his workers and a breakdown vehicle and takes the Bentley away. Then I contact the builders who constructed the apartments and arrange for someone to take a look at the gates that have been damaged but still work. I'm pretty sure they can be repaired in-situ, as can the dent in the Armco barrier, and with a lick of new paint they'll be fine and it will keep the occupants of the other apartments off my back. I don't live in a bubble here, but because I own the apartments, up to yet nobody has complained about the comings and goings of what once used to be a conservative place to live. My tenants are high-flyers themselves. They have to be to be able to afford the exorbitant rent I charge. But I'm sure they must be well aware that the Hillbillies have moved into town. How could they not do? The elevator is like a yoyo these days, and there's more laughter in the building than there's ever been. The boys don't help, and I reckon when they get back from the KaDeWe, the peace and quiet will be shattered again. But I won't hear it. I'm going to work. But not before I put Aleric's gold watch back into the safe. He took it off when we got to the KaDeWe and told me to put it back in the safe and he would wear it on special occasions. I liked that. It's his now, but he doesn't know why it's so precious to me.

 

**********

 

I've locked all my private paperwork away when the cleaners arrive at the office at six, and I've had five phone calls from Aleric. The first was just to ask me if I still loved him; the second was to get my take on whether he should get a pair of green jeans or grey ones. I told him both, but that it would come out of his allowance, so why ask me. His answer made me chuckle: You'll be the one taking them off, so that's why! The third was when he was at the hospital to tell me that Ralf was okay and all the tests were going as planned; the fourth was to ask me if I'd arranged the wedding, and the final one was five minutes ago asking when I would be home and to ask me if I would be going to the hospital with them at seven to see Ralf, and that if I was, I was to hurry because Gretel had prepared dinner and that I wouldn't have much time to get showered and changed and be able to eat unless I got my finger out. (His final comment on that call was made in a whisper, and it was that he was disappointed with me because he was feeling dead sexy and we wouldn't have time now I was late.) And I'm still chuckling at the last one when I get in the Golf and drive home. My sexy boy will have to wait until bed time now. That should be fun!

 

**********

 

Our visit to see Ralf (joined by Kurt and Hans who have come along to see him) is another eye-opener for me. Although he's in a private room, it isn't long before the place is half full of hospital staff when, at Ralf's request, the three boys sing some songs for him. Meanwhile, Gretel sits in a comfortable chair, knitting and pretending not to be involved, chatting away to Kurt (girls together talk) while Gunther sits with me looking on. In between songs, he chats away to me about various things, including his plans to get a job if they buy the house at the Wannsee. I'm enchanted by the goings on, mainly because this family from the provinces are sitting in a hospital while the father has treatment that is costing me tens of thousands of Euros, and they act as if they're sitting in their front parlour at home in the north. But whatever it's costing me, it isn't enough to pay for the feelings I'm getting. My love for Aleric (Kurt's was already there) is spreading to most members of this delightful group of people that I didn't know existed a couple of months ago. Their God does indeed act in mysterious ways! He's certainly ensnared me... conduit or not. I think Ralf understands, because every now and again when our eyes meet, he gives me a knowing wink. And I reward him by taking out a miniature bottle of peach Schnapps from my pocket before slipping it into his bedside cupboard. For that, I get a full wink, which includes his moustache dipping at an alarming angle.

 

At nine (well... ten minutes past) we're ordered to leave, but not before the nurse tells us that the other patients have turned off their TV's and radios to listen to the boys, and asks that they all come back tomorrow night to do the same again. She says we won't be able to do it the night after, because Ralf is scheduled to have his operation that day. So I gather up everybody except Gretel, and we all go out. She joins us five minutes later and we all pile into the Transporter, drop off Kurt and Hans, and then go back to the apartment.

 

The boys are playing on their game consoles when I slip out and join Gretel in the kitchen. She keeps her back to me and I know immediately that she's upset. I go to her and put an arm around her shoulder. She turns to me with tears in her eyes. I pull her to me and hug her, and then I ask, "Are you worried about him?"

 

She nods. "I'm praying that the operation is successful."

 

I hug her that bit tighter. "I've had a private word with Frank Neumann. He reckons that there's better than an 80% chance that it will work. He says Ralf will still have a way to go with physiotherapy when it's done. If it's successful, with a bit of luck and a fair wind, and with your special God behind you, he'll be catching fish on the Wannsee within six months."

 

Gretel lifts her head and stares at me with tearful eyes. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you Gareth?"

 

I smile at her. "No. I wouldn't do that. That would be a cruel thing to do. I can't promise anything, but I can pass on what one of the best neurosurgeons in the world has told me privately. And he won't be alone. Ali Ashtiani the Iranian orthopedic whizz kid has flown in from London to help him with the operation. But you knew that. It may turn out that Frank is wrong, and that's because he's not a miracle worker, but he has done this operation before, and if you remember me saying when we were at Wieck, the fact that Ralf is not... ahem... how shall we put it... `useless', and the operation he did on that guy I told you about that wasn't... how shall we put it... `useless' was very successful, then I reckon it wouldn't do you any harm to be positive."

 

Gretel chuckles. "I wasn't thinking about that!"

 

I chuckle. "Your son is too much like you for you to fool me, Schatz!"

 

Gretel buries her head in my chest and chuckles away like an old hen.

 

**********

 

His body is amazingly supple; almost nebulous as I caress his gracious curves while he's buried in my arms with his head tucked under my chin. Knowing Aleric, he could probably go another couple of times if I pushed it, but he seems to be content with the five times he's achieved it during our lovemaking. And tonight was different than the last time we did it here in our bed. Tonight he's not been so reserved in volume. Maybe that's because his father isn't in the bedroom across the hallway, or maybe it's because he now feels that we're married. He's already told me a few times tonight that we are. We've been at it for two hours, but it hasn't been all sex. Aleric climaxes too fast for us to spend two whole hours at it. It's during our `rest periods' that we talk and tell each other how deep our love is, and we also venture into other subjects besides what we are.

 

Because of the company around us, these are the only times we can have really private conversations, and tonight we've talked about a lot of things. We've talked about his Dad; about how long it will be before his family can move to the Wannsee, and he's even told me that his Mum has told him to keep Gottwin out of our bedroom. That shocked me, and Aleric said it shocked him when she told him. Like me, he hasn't got a clue how she knows, but he said she said it with so much conviction that he knows for certain that she knows. But then he got the devil in him and said that he'd sneak Gotty in some way because we'd had so much fun together that he couldn't wait to repeat it again. When I said that he and his brother were perverts, he snorted, and said, `You're no angel yourself!' That's when we went into one of our giggling fits, and as usual, it ended up with me having to bring him to another climax before he would become serious again.

 

And now he's drifted off to sleep. There's no sneaking back to the bed he shares with Gottwin. We're `married' and this is our `marriage bed'. My mind goes back to that night at The Schiller, to that beautiful boy I looked upon and immediately fell in love with. That same boy; his beautiful smile; his dazzling eyes; his warmth; his smell; his amazing softness is asleep in my arms. I may be a conduit, but I wouldn't swap being a conduit for anything in the world.    

 

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.