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 john.thestoryteller@gmail.com


Other stories on Nifty by John Teller/The Storyteller can be found here.


All rights reserved. All parts of these documents are © Copyright 2012 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.



The Angel of Pie Jesu.

By John T. S. Teller.

Book one – Star in the Hood.

Part 6.


Herr Biermaier is sitting at the front, by the driver. I'm next to Hansie, who is staring through the window, halfway back along the coach. When we first left Berlin, everyone was singing and laughing, but now, apart from some of the older boys at the back making a noise while they're playing cards, it's pretty quiet. I nudge Hansie. "What are you thinking?"


He turns his head and looks at me, and then shrugs his shoulders. "Don't tell anyone else, but Kurt says he wants to adopt me."


I'm flabbergasted, and I don't really know what to say. I stumble out the words, "But he's gay!"


Hansie's face is almost angry. "So! That doesn't mean he and his partner are not nice people!"


I manage to recover my composure. "You're right. I like Kurt. He's lovely." And then I lower my voice. "I've got some good news for you. Herr Biermaier isn't going to stick it in you again."


Hansie gives me a puzzled look. "How do you know that?"


I take Hansie's hand in mine. "Trust me. I've sorted it. In future, whenever he wants stuff, we'll be doing it together. I hope you don't mind, but that was the only way I could make sure he wouldn't stick it in you. Will you be OK with that?"


Hansie squeezes my hand, and smiles. "Yes." Then he becomes shy, and his words are almost inaudible when he says, "Can I have a feel at you?"


I don't know what to say, but I do say, "I thought you didn't like doing it."


Hansie's blue eyes look into mine. "I like some of the things. I do it myself. Don't you?"


"Yes, of course I do. But I'm not sure it would be right for you to do it to me."


Hansie grins. "I'd like to. Please?  If we're going to be doing it together with him, we need to get used to each other. I just want to feel you."


Hansie's words make my pinkler swell. I look round. The coach is a fifty-two seater one, and nobody is too near us. I get up and take one of our bomber jackets from the seat in front of us, place it over my lap, undo my zip, and pull my hard pinkler out of my underpants. I lift the edge of the jacket, and Hansie slips his hand under it and grasps hold of me. His warm hands fondling me make me even harder, and I can't help pushing my hips out when he begins to wank me. I look down and see that he's playing with himself, and I move my hand across and do it for him through his jeans. I have another look round. Everybody is in the same place. I look at Hansie.  "Undo your zip."


Hansie undoes it; I slip my hands into the warmth of his underpants and feel at his pinkler, which is now as hard as a little nail. I can only get two fingers and a thumb on his, but he's got his hand around mine, and we both begin to wank each other. I climax, and as I do, I feel Hansie shudder. We put our pinklers away, and giggle. I put the bomber jacket back on the seat in front, and we relax back in our seats and stare through the window. After a short time, Hansie turns to me and looks into my eyes, and says, "Can we be special friends, Aleric?"


I nod. "Yes. I'd like that. I really like you. I want to take care of you. I've got someone who takes care of me."


Hansie gives me a puzzled look. "Who is it?"


I shake my head. "I can't tell you, but if I ask him to take care of you as well, he will do. He'll do anything for me."


Hansie grins. "I know who it is. The man who bought the bomber jackets... Gareth. Wow! Does he do stuff with you?"


"No! He isn't like that! He just loves me."


"Do you love him?"


"Yes. More than anything in the world. That's why I was crying last night. I was singing Pie Jesu for him. It made him cry, too."


Hansies eyes are adoring as he looks into mine. "Wow! That's really lovely. I wish I was as beautiful as you."


I take Hansie's hand, and squeeze it. "You are beautiful. In your own way. The audience love you, and you've got a voice better than mine. Well, it will be when you're a bit older. If you keep up your progress, you might make it to the Vienna Boys. Then you can really get away from him!"


Hansie's eyes are panicky. "But that would mean me leaving you. I never want to leave you! I love you!"


And all the little things become clear. The way Hansie is always tagging along with me; the small touches of his hands that I dismissed as nothing; the looks he gives me that are right into my eyes, and the fact that he always makes sure he's sitting with me on our coach journeys. I can't hurt him. I really can't. He's only a baby. I smile at him. "I love you, too, but don't let's tell anybody. Nothing! All this stuff is our secret. OK? Promise me!"


He grins. "I promise. It will be our secret. All of it. But we can talk about it. Can I tell you something else?"




Hansie reaches down, picks up a carrier bag from the floor in front of him by his feet, reaches into it, and pulls out a box that contains a mobile phone. "Kurt gave me this, and a load of clothes. He asked me not to say anything."


I grin at him. "That's brilliant! But how are you going to explain that to your foster parents?"


"Kurt told me to say that you won yours because of your Pie Jesu, and I won mine for Rock Around the Clock. He's told me to explain it that way to my foster parents."


"That sounds good. Kurt is clever. Will you ring him?"


Hansie looks down in a shy way. "Yes." Then he adds with a sparkle in his eyes. "You can come and have a stayover with me. I've got my own room... and a big bed. Will your mum let you come?"


Despite having just climaxed, I feel my pinkler swelling again. The pinkler sucking; the tongue up my bum; my balls being tickled; I love all of it. If I sleep with Hansie, we can do that stuff. "I think so. Your foster parents don't have any other children they're looking after at the moment, do they?"


"No. We can say we're practicing together. They'll believe that." Hansie drops his eyes. "Aleric, if I tell you something, will you promise you won't stop loving me?"


"I promise. What is it?"


"Herr Biermaier calls me his Little Gay Boy."


"Why does he do that?"


"Well, you know when he sticks his thing up me, my pinkler is always hard. I can't stop it, even though he's hurting me?"


I'm shocked by Hansie's words. "You don't like it... do you?"


"No! But sometimes he tickles me inside with his tongue on a place that makes me shiver, and he can make me thrill just by doing it. Sometimes he can make me thrill two or three times without even touching my pinkler. Then he goes and spoils it by sticking his thing in me."


I grin at Hansie. "I like his tongue as well, but he has to play with my pinkler at the same time to make me thrill. He's got the longest tongue I've ever seen!"


Hansie giggles. "Yes, I know he has. Sometimes he licks my poo out of me!"


I giggle. "I know. He likes shit. Do you know what I did last night?"




"I shit on my underpants, and then stuck them on his nose!"


"You didn't!"


"I did! And I made him thrill just by rubbing his pinkler while my shitty pants were on his nose!"


Hansie is almost doubled up laughing now, and I am, too. Suddenly, Herr Biermaier is standing by the side of us. I was too busy whispering and laughing to notice him coming to us.


"And what are you two boys laughing about?"


I look up at him through the tears of laughter in my eyes. "Hansie was saying, Sir. Last Christmas, his foster mother's father couldn't eat his Christmas dinner because he lost his false teeth down the toilet."


Herr Biermaier laughs, and shakes his head. "You boys!"


Then he walks off towards the back of the coach to see what the playing card gang are up to. I look at Hansie, and he grins. I grin back at him. "That was a close shave! We'd best stop talking about this stuff now. How long are you staying with these foster parents?"


Hansie looks sad. "I'm not sure. There was talk of them adopting me, but I think Herr Havald wants a girl. Besides, the authorities think it's time for me to be adopted permanently, so if anyone wants to adopt me, they'll have priority."


"How do you feel about that?"


"I'm not sure. If they're nice people, and if I can still be in the choir, I think I'll be OK. I've had four foster parents in the last three years, so it won't be much different. Anyway, although he treats me well, I don't really like Herr Havald. Frau Havald is lovely, but he's sort of offish." He grins. "Maybe Kurt will get me. He'll make sure I stay in the choir."


Hansie's dilemma almost brings tears to my eyes. I take his hand, and squeeze it. "Kurt and Gareth would make sure you do."


An hour later, and the coach stops at S********. Most of the boys' parents are there to greet them. Mine are not. We don't have a car.



I stare at the familiar countryside as I sit on the bus that has only three other passengers on it. Fifteen minutes and I'll be home. I ring Gareth.


He answers the phone immediately. "Hello, Star in the Hood. How are you?"


My head is leaning against the window, and tears are in my eyes when I answer him. "I'm missing you. I wish you were here."


"Where are you?"


"I'm on the bus, and I'm almost home."


"Don't worry. I'll be up to see you soon. And now the phone is legitimate, you can use it whenever you like. You can even send me some pictures on it."


Talking to Gareth has eased my mood. "I'll send you one of POLE-land."


Gareth laughs. "Don't you dare!"


I giggle. "So, you don't love my POLE – land anymore?"


"I prefer that cute bum of yours."


"You've already had your hand on it."


"I know. I haven't washed my hand since."


I snigger. "You naughty old man!"


"Less of the old, if you don't mind!"


I laugh. "You've got an answer for everything."


"Not quite. But I'm working on it. I may be spending Christmas in Wieck this year. I hear there's a lovely boy up there."


I'm excited by Gareth's comment. "Can you do that?"


"I can do anything for that special boy. Now get off home, and ring me whenever you want to. ILY.


"ILY, Gareth. I'll ring you later."


After the call, and Gareth saying he's coming to Weick, I'm in a completely different mood.



When my mobile goes and it's Aleric, my heart leaps. I can tell by his voice that he's sad, even though he's almost home. I do my best to cheer him up, and the suggestion that I'll be spending Christmas in Wieck is not an off the cuff one. While I was having lunch with Kurt, my brain was in overdrive, plotting and planning how Aleric and I could share time together. Some of our small talk while he was in the shop was about what he would be doing in the near future.


As Aleric and I are talking on the phone, in my mind's eye, I can see his eyes. The shape of them is unusual. Boys' eyes are usually well open, but Aleric's are hooded; like a boy waking, and he has a slight squint. Well, it seems that way, but maybe that's because they're so widely set apart. When I was able to look in them closely, the mixture of browns and greens were like solar flares radiating out from pupils I could see right into. If I could climb into those pupils, past the invisible tentacles that have wormed their way deep into my heart, I just know I would find his soul. Bewitched: I most certainly am by his eyes.


He uses Lynx body deodorant. Every opportunity I've had since he left, his t-shirt has been caressed by my cheeks and lips. I'm staring at the A4 photo of him. I bring it to my face and rub my nose over him. I can feel the softness of his warm lips that I kissed in the theatre corridor. It had been a beautiful moment, especially because he had wanted to kiss me, too. This is no one-sided affair, and I know the feelings that stirred inside me would have been echoed inside Aleric. Our love was in that kiss, of that there's no shadow of a doubt.


After I end the call to Aleric, I ring Raul, my artist friend. He's Spanish, and despite the fact he's a drug addict, he's a superb painter. He answers his phone after just a couple of rings. "Hey! Gareth! How are you man? Long time no see. What can I do for you?"


"I want a painting of a photograph I have, and the only person I know I can trust to do what I want, is you."


"No shit! Is it naughty then?"


"Sort of. Answer your emails, and you'll see it."


"Oh shit! I haven't logged onto that fucking thing for days! I'm on my way home now. I'll do it as soon as I get in. I'll ring you back." Twenty minutes later, and the landline phone goes. It's Raul, and I'm nervous when he says, "Where the fuck did you get this? I didn't know you were into boys!"


"I'm not! This boy is just kind of special. I want you to do me large painting of it, but try to make it artistic rather than, err..."




"It's not pornographic!"


"Gareth! It's fucking me; Raul, you're talking to. Don't bullshit me man! I'm a fucking artist man, and I know pornography when I see it! I'll give you the benefit of the fucking doubt and say it's `suggestive'. Is that better?"




"So, you've fallen in love with this boy, and you want me to do you a painting of him that's artistic rather than `suggestive'."


"Something like that."


"Well, at least you're being honest. Some of the fuckers who try to fool me scuttle off as soon as I'm honest with them. You've got a good eye man! He's fucking gorgeous man! Those eyes! Jeezus! Michelangelo would have paid a fortune for him. I'm going to enjoy this man!"


I laugh. "So you'll do it for me?"


"Of course I will! It will keep the wolf from the door for a while, and I'm going to enjoy doing it. What size do you want?"


"Not small. You've been in my apartment enough times. I want it dead centre on the main wall, in the main room."


"To replace the August Macke?! Fuck! You don't half have some big asks! Anyway, who is he?"


"Mind your own fucking business!"


Raul laughs. "I'm going to start on it now! Not a lot excites me these days, but painting this little God is going to be a challenge. Fuck! I'm really excited man!"


"I didn't know you were into boys."


"I'm not! But I am into beauty in all its forms, and this boy is beautiful beyond words. The shape of him; everything, but those eyes are bewitching me! Gareth, man, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but if I was only slightly inclined that way, which I am now I've seen this beauty, I can't wait to get my grubby hands on him... if you know what I mean. I was going to shoot some stuff with the guys tonight, but this boy will turn me on more than any shit. Get some money over to me. I need to live you know!"


"Have you got a bank account?"


Raul gives out a silly laugh. "Yes, but if you put it in there, it will be gobbled up by the bastards before I see it. I need cash man. A guy's gotta eat."


"Or snort?"


"Hey man, don't give me no bullshit! I don't ask you; you don't tell me! That's the way it is. So, do I get some cash and you get your boy?"


"How much do you need?"


"A thousand now, and then you can settle up with me when he's on your wall or in your bed."


"How long will it take?"


"Don't ask me that man! This boy is going to be my life for a while. There's no way you're having him back until I've had my way with him. He's fucking spiritual man! He's saved my fucking life! Fuck painting cats and pampered fucking dogs for stupid bastards! Bring the cash over, and some food, and a Döner Kebab and a few beers for now."


I break the call and think about Aleric. It's Saturday 8th of December now. He goes to his Church School on Monday, and then does two weeks schooling before he breaks up for the Christmas holidays on Wednesday 19th December.  So, if somehow I can get up to Wieck on that weekend, we can plot to meet each other during the Christmas period. I'd planned to spend it at my place in London, or fly out to Austin, Texas, to spend it with my parents. Dad still works, but he spends a lot of his time with mum these days. They're both well and enjoying life in their sixties. But I won't be spending Christmas in either London or Texas now. I'll be spending it in Wieck, with Aleric, near to the boy I love.


All these thoughts are going through my mind as I drive the fifteen kilometers to Raul's place at Birkenstein. I'm in the Golf. No way am I going to park the Bentley where he lives! Raul's place is shit: a prefabricated building set back amongst some trees. There's no drive to it, so I park the car on the street, take out the five bags of food I've picked up from the all-night supermarket, and the kebab, and lump them up his path to the front door. I kick the door to save me putting all the bags down and picking them up again. Raul opens it, and lets me carry all the bags in. I dump them in his excuse of a kitchen, and throw the kebab onto a tiny space on the table.


"You're sick man. Fucking sick! I don't deserve you."


I laugh at Raul's use of the modern idiom of `sick', which means great, and before he can ask me for it, I get a thousand Euros out of my wallet and give them to him. He stuffs them into a vase, and then, while he's munching the kebab, grins at me to thank me, and then nods his head to one of the two old armchairs in the room. I shift the detritus of his life from it, sit down in front of the gas fire, and study him. His thick beard and dreadlocks and unkempt unwashed appearance reminds me of a tramp. "How are you, Raul?"


He takes a beer from one of the bags, and sits on the detritus on the other chair. "Living man. Just living. And you?"


"Living. Well, I was until I met him."


"And now?"


I shrug my shoulders.


"He's got into your head, eh? Have you fucked him?"


If anybody except Raul had said that, he'd be on the floor now. But this is Raul, and I know his inquiry is a genuine one to know just how I feel about Aleric. "No. And just for your information, I've never touched a kid in my life."


Raul doesn't apologize for his blunt question. "Where did you get the picture?"


"He took it himself, and sent it to me."


Raul whistles through his dirty teeth. "He loves you man. He fucking loves you, and he's offering himself to you. How are you going to handle that?"


"I've no idea. Why are you so impressed with the photo?"


Raul studies the photo for a while, and then he says, "He's an artist's dream. His hair; the texture of his skin; his features; the slenderness of his body; the seductiveness in his gorgeous eyes. He's got a bit of a squint. Did you know that?"


"I wasn't sure. It's so small and his eyes are wide, so I wasn't sure."


"He needs glasses. It might be too late to correct them now. I'm only thinking of him. It adds to his beauty for me. I wouldn't change anything about him. I'll need a few more pictures of him. Can you do that?"


"Why do you need more pictures?"


"Just small things. He'll be naked when I'm done with him."


"Why? I don't want him naked!"


"Oh fuck man! He's a beautiful child, not a sex object! Get the sex out of your head and look at him for what he is; a boy God. Putting clothes on him would be a crime! Don't worry, I'll have him in the same pose he is now, and I'll tuck his soft little cock down between his legs so you won't see much of it. But he has got one, and it's as much a part of his beauty as the rest of him! Fuck man! You're beginning to sound like a religious prude!"


"Will you do it with him sitting on the bed?"


"On that bed?! You must be fucking joking man! He'll be on a bed, in a setting worthy of him." He taps the side of his head. "It's all up here man. I can almost see the finished article. That's why I'm excited. That's why I'm not snorting until he's done. He's my kicks. You do realize I've been waiting all my life for him, do you!? By the way, what's his name?"




Raul sighs, closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Perfect! The perfect German angel."



I'm just about to get in my car outside Raul's place, when a text comes in from Aleric. Don't text me back. Am in bed and my brother is asleep with me. I just wanted to tell you ILY, and I'm kissing your shirt and I can smell you and you've made me cry again. I'll ring you tomorrow. ILY ILY


I grit my teeth to hold back the tears, and then I ring Kurt. He answers immediately. "Hello sweetheart. Where are you?"


I don't answer his question. Instead, I ask, "Where are you?"


"With Heindrich and Jools and Rohn. At Max's. We've just finished supper."


"OK. I'll speak to you later. Enjoy the rest of your evening."


"Wait! Why don't you join us for drinkies? Then we're going to a club."


"No. It's OK. I'll take a raincheck. I'm tired. I just wanted to hear your sweet voice and to thank you for today."


"Have you heard from You-Know-Who?"


"Yes. He's just texted me."


"What did he have to say?"


"I'll forward his text to you. Don't let anyone else see it!"


"Of course not. I'll text you back when I've read it."


I send Aleric's text to Kurt, and then begin the drive to my apartment. I've only gone two kilometres when Kurt's text comes in. You're sleeping in your Angel of Pie Jesu's bed tonight. That's beautiful. Sleep tight sweetheart.



Despite having drunk a third of a bottle of Glenfidich, I'm still having difficulty sleeping. Every time I close my eyes I see Aleric's body in front of me when I was kneeling down fitting the pullover on him. I wanted to grasp him and pull him to me so I could kiss the warmth of his body in the place I shouldn't. I was no more than twenty centimetres from what lies beneath his blue jeans, and I got a half-erection thinking about what the picture I have of him revealed.


What was it Kurt said? You're sleeping in your Angel of Pie Jesu's bed tonight. I wish I was. Kurt asked me if I wanted his body. I didn't dare tell him that there was one particular part that is like a drug to me: his bum. I can't take my eyes off it when I have the opportunity to look at it, and today when I was fitting the pullover, I had another feel at it. I can imagine what it's like. It will be pale and curvy and soft and pliable. Certainly kissable. Yes, kissable, especially deep between his buttocks. Yes, that's what I really want... to be deep between them, and kissing...


Jeezus, Rhys-Jones! You are one perverted bastard! He would probably hate you if ever you tried to do that! I know, but I can't stop the feelings now Aleric has unlocked the door to them. I am revealed. Gareth Rhys-Jones wants to fuck a little boy. No! Not a little boy! You want to fuck the boy you love! You should be ashamed of yourself, you perverted bastard!


I can't sleep now. I need another drink.


To be continued...

You can find my other stories on Nifty here.