I almost asked my interpreter to follow me home that night so that he could translate for me and Günter, but then I decided against the idea. The interpreter would probably misinterpret the relationship. Besides, Nigel spoke a bit of German, and he knew how things stood.
None of the same boys were out whom I had seen on the streets the previous evening; I went home the same way, just in case Günter was still with his group, too timid to take me up on my offer.
Seeing none of them, I picked up my pace, hopefully. My heart quickened even more when I could not find the key where Günter and I had hidden it, and I hurried inside.
Günter had heard me coming and stood at attention beside my small night stand. I looked around the room. It had been cleaned and straightened. I moved around, nodding appreciatively. The city had a lot of dust in the air back then, but Günter had dusted thoroughly, and I nodded appreciatively as I ran a finger along the window sill; he had even made it up there to clean. The bed was made. Towels and clothes were hung.
“Danke,” I said with a grin and satisfied nod of the head. “Danke, danke.”
Günter took the bag of bread and groceries from my hand and worked them onto the little shelf that served as my pantry. I’d brought cheese and dried sausage, though, and those I set on the nightstand for our supper, along with a loaf of bread. Just as we were about to sit down to eat, there was a knock at the door. It was Nigel.
“I’ve brought some clothes for the boy,” Nigel said. “I think they’ll fit him.”
There were two pair of underwear, two pair of trousers, a long-sleeve shirt, and a short-sleeve shirt. They were used, of course, but clean and in good condition.
“Thanks, Nigel. I owe you.”
“Nonsense. I’m assuaging my own conscience by helping out.”
“Could you help a bit more?” I asked. “Günter doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak German, and I wanted to find out a little more about him.”
Nigel smiled sadly and placed a hand on my forearm. “Don’t probe too deeply, my friend. He may have been through hell, literally. He wouldn’t want to talk about that.”
I nodded, understanding. “Can you at least tell him that I’m glad he came back tonight? Can you tell him that I’m grateful that he cleaned up in here?”
“Certainly,” Nigel said, and turned to Günter. There was a rapid exchange of German. I’d always thought it a guttural, unlovely language, especially when spoken by Nazi propagandists. But on the lips of an eleven-year-old boy, whose voice was still high and soft, it sounded like a language from some far-off fairyland; a language of creatures light as air, wonderful and beautiful.
“He seems to like you, old man,” Nigel said with a grin. “He said he would like to clean for you every day. He says he will do your laundry and cook your food if you wish.”
I smiled. “I would like that a lot. Tell him that he is welcome to share my room for as long as I’m in Cologne.”
Nigel translated. Günter’s brow furrowed deeply at one point, and then he broke into a smile.
“Why did he frown?” I asked.
“I had to explain to him that you were going to be in Cologne for at least a year or two,” Nigel explained. “Once he understood that, he was quite happy. It looks to me like you’ve got yourself a houseboy.”
I had to grin at that. “He’s not going to be my servant, Nigel,” I said.
Nigel’s look grew serious and he patted my arm again. “He must be, Michael. Let him have some dignity. If he is your servant, he earns his place here.”
“Oh,” I murmured, considering. “I hadn’t thought of that.” I nodded. “I’ll do it.”
I invited Nigel to eat with us, but he begged off. Günter and I did a bit of smiling at each other over supper, while teaching one another the names, in English and German, of the foods, the furniture, the walls, everything in the room. Each German name sounded so musical when Günter spoke it.
With new clothes, Günter would need to bathe again. When I sat to remove my shoes, Günter rushed to kneel at my feet. He took my shoes and socks off for me. When I stood, he fumbled at my belt and folded my pants when I removed them. He did the same with my shirt. Standing only in my undershirt and briefs, I motioned for him to strip as well. “Baden,” I said. “Bathe. Dusche.” He nodded and hurried to comply. Grabbing the other of my two bath towels, he followed me out to the concrete pad where the shower was located.
We took turns; one holding towels and clothes while the other washed. Günter was not so shy this time, and even asked me to help wash his hair. I got an erection doing it, but mine was hidden by my clothes. Günter’s was hidden by his back turned toward the house.
We each wore only towels back into the house, and then Günter stood still while I combed out his hair. He had me sit in the chair while he combed out mine, chattering in his high, light German while he did so, and running his fingers repeatedly through my hair. I have a very thick head of hair, and I imagined that he was commenting on that.
I hung up my towel, and slipped on briefs. Günter watched, his eyes on my midsection. Then I had him try on a pair of his new underwear. They were loose, but not much. The other clothes fit well enough, and I made a mental note to thank Nigel again.
We stayed in our briefs. I cleaned out half of one drawer in my small dresser and placed Günter’s folded clothes there, showing him, so he would know he had a place. Günter reached into the drawer, smoothing his clothes with his hand. I patted his bare back, and he looked up at me with a grateful smile.
I had a few books, one of which was an old travel guide for Germany. I grabbed it, and then sat back on the bed with my back to the pillow. I patted the bed beside me and motioned for Günter to join me.
He climbed up beside me, and I opened the book to a map of the country. Pointing, I said, “Cologne.”
Günter repeated, pronouncing it correctly. I tried pronouncing the name the way he did, and Günter nodded encouragingly. We worked our way around the map, Günter helping me with my pronunciation of the various city and region names.
We were sitting with our legs straight out in front of us. His smaller thigh was touching mine. His shoulder rested back against my bicep. I was grateful that Günter had become comfortable with me. I felt very comfortable with him.
The first time I tried pronouncing the name, Leverkusen, I really butchered it. Günter laughed, and then caught himself, horrified that I might be mad, but I laughed, too and tried again. Soon we were laughing at many of my pronunciations. At some point Günter rested his hand on my thigh, and I tried not to think about it because I was so very close to having an erection.
Günter’s happiness made me happy, and we continued far longer than we should for me to remember all the pronunciations we tried out. It was a way to be happy together. But finally it was time to sleep. I set the book aside. “Piss?” I asked.
He grinned and nodded. We dashed out to the yard and stood side-by-side to piss. Back inside, I brushed my teeth, and then made sure he did the same with my toothbrush; my only one. Günter sprang a boner while we were doing that. I saw it in the front of his underwear, and it was impossible to keep my dick down once that happened. We each had a tube pointing off to the side in our briefs.
I quickly turned out the light, and we climbed into the bed again, this time to lie down for sleep. Günter waited until I was on my back. He hesitated, holding back, but I extended my arm behind his back and drew him to me. He happily snuggled on, resting his head on my shoulder, his hand on my chest. When he cocked his leg over my legs, I felt his boner against my hip and the top of his thigh came to rest against my own erection.
We lay there for a moment, both of us wide awake. I stroked Günter’s back with my fingers. Despite us both having erections, I wasn’t going to do anything. Besides having no idea what to do, I wasn’t about to upset Günter. But then, Günter did something. His hand slid from my chest and inched it down my belly. I held my breath.
At the waistband of my briefs, Günter lifted his hand and closed it over my erection through my underwear. I stifled a gasp, swallowing hard. No one had ever touched me there before, even through my clothes. I thought I should tell him that he didn’t need to do what he was doing, not to stay with me, but he didn’t understand English, and at that moment, I was glad he didn’t; I was very glad.
Günter squeezed, and I swallowed hard again, finding breath, short. Günter lifted his head from my shoulder, and he kissed my nipple. That was a surprise, as was what he did next. He sucked it, gently. It sent a shock through my body. It seemed incredible that I was the one who was inexperienced and he was the one who knew what he was doing, but I was grateful he knew.
Günter diligently sucked and licked on my nipple with his tongue until my chest was heaving. He did the same to my other nipple; the whole time, clutching my erection through my underwear.
He bent over me, kissing down my belly. In truth, his kissing was spotty and awkward. I had nothing to compare with, of course, and I had no idea it could be done better. His lips on my belly were like nothing I had ever experienced. And then his mouth reached the waistband of my underwear.
Günter got onto his knees, bending over me. He hooked his fingers in the little gaps inside each of my hipbones where there was a little space between my skin and the elastic of my waistband. I trembled as he pulled down my elastic waistband – I was twenty-two and a virgin; I trembled.
Günter lifted the waistband over my cock, which sprang free and pointed up my belly. I lifted my hips and Günter pulled my underwear down my legs and off.
Then he was bending over my middle again and his hand closed over my erection, this time, skin on skin… and I did gasp. He pointed it straight up at the ceiling, examining it as though it was the first man-sized erection he’d seen. Bending lower, he stuck out his tongue and licked my glans with the tip of it. I froze. He licked up the length of my shaft and I forgot to breathe. And then he closed his mouth over my crown and the room spun.
I’d never even imagined the sensations that Günter now gave me. He lifted my balls on his fingers. He squeezed my shaft and stroked it. He sucked and licked on my crown. I didn’t stand a chance. With legs squirming, I fired off the most intense orgasm of my life.
Suddenly, Günter was choking… hard. I sat bolt upright and slapped his back while he doubled over. Semen dripped from his mouth, and even from his nose. I grabbed a towel and wiped his face. Günter began to cry, mumbling what sounded like apologies in German.
I cleaned his face as tenderly as I could, and held him to me, rocking him and stroking the back of his hair while he calmed down. Then it seemed to me that there was only one thing to do. I laid him back on the bed, and then bending over him, I kissed his little right nipple.
I kissed and sucked his nipple the way he had done mine, and when he began to squirm the way I had, I switched to his other one. I kissed down his belly and nuzzled his erection through the front of his briefs. I grabbed his briefs by the sides and pulled them down.
His erection, thicker than my thumb and much longer than my middle finger, sprang up free from between his legs. In the dim light that made it in from under my door and from the window, his bald pubic mound and upward curving erection seemed abnormally large, sitting above his concave little belly, narrow hips, and thin legs. I quickly tossed his briefs aside and knelt between those slender legs, running a hand over their soft skin. I thought his cock was beautiful, arching up so rigid and thick looking to flare of a crown. I closed my fingers around it and was amazed, just like everyone else is the first time they touch another boy’s cock, by the unbelievably soft skin and steel-hard shaft beneath. I moved the skin up and down. Günter murmured, eyes closed.
I aimed his stiff cock up at the ceiling, and did like Günter had done to me; licking and sucking over the crown. When I did, I discovered his scent; I hadn’t expected that. It was richer than just a boy’s normal smell, though I’d never smelled a boy between the legs before. Between Günter’s legs was a scent similar to the one between my own legs, but much milder, and mixed with a softer essence. It was sublime.
On impulse, I took his cock farther into my mouth, sucking, and enjoying the sucking. I liked it. I bobbed on his shaft. No one had to teach me; I just started doing it, and the longer I did it, the more it excited me, and the more of his length I took into my throat.
With a small cry, Günter grabbed the sides of my head and thrust reflexively into my mouth. His whole body began to shudder, and I discovered that prepubescent boys can have dry orgasms. Günter went a little wild under me, clutching my head, thrashing his legs, whimpering, and thrusting until he finally slowed and pushed my head up and off his cock.
I slid up alongside him, slipping an arm under the back of his head. I rested my forehead on his and he took my free arm and hugged it to his chest. Never in my life, had I felt the tender and overwhelming feelings for another person that I felt that night for Günter… after the private things we had done for each other, after the intimacy we shared… holding his small, frame so close, forehead to forehead.
My friends whose sex lives began young, never seemed to really understand when I tried to tell them how I felt holding Günter that evening. But others like me – those who didn’t have sex with someone until they were older – those friends usually understood. To put it in the strictly biological terms one friend once used, it’s in our nature to bond powerfully with our mate; at least at our first mating. That night with Günter, the depth of feeling I suddenly had for the small boy in my arms, utterly surprised me. They were also the best feelings I’d ever had in my life.
The feelings were also sexual. Sucking on his long stick of an erection had gotten me hard as hell again, and my erection pressed the side of his leg.
While he hugged my upper arm, I reached down between his legs and found that he was still hard as well. I covered his hardness with my hand. “Günter,” I whispered, and our noses touched. “Gut?” I asked in German. “Good?”
“Ya,” he whispered and I felt his breath on my lips.
His lips were so close… full lips, soft-looking, boy’s lips… I touched them with mine.
He hugged my arm more tightly and I fondled him more firmly. I pressed my lips to his, harder. I had French-kissed girls before; two different girls. But neither had roused me like that first kiss with Günter. My lips parted and I probed between his lips with my tongue. His mouth opened and our mouths became one… hungrily.
I moaned. He moaned. He let go of my arm with one hand and ran it into my hair.
We kissed for a very long time, and though I had come once already, I began to ooze precum. Günter felt it against his leg. He pushed my chest, separating us, and then he began a slide down my body as if he was going to suck me again.
Sixty-nine was a term I’d heard, even back then, for mutual, oral sex. I stopped Günter’s slide down the bed and reversed body positions with him so that we were on our sides, facing on another’s groin. He grabbed onto my cock right away, just as I grabbed his.
“Günter,” I murmured. When he looked at me, I pointed at my nose. “Nein mit der nase,” I said, hoping I was saying something like no or not with the nose.
He looked at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then laughed out loud; a high, clear laugh. I thought it the sweetest, happiest laughter I’d ever heard. He fired off something in German. I didn’t understand a word of it, but I understood his smile. He turned back to my cock, so big looking in his hand. I turned back to his.
After a brief shudder when his mouth closed over my crown, I lifted his slender top leg. I ran my hand once more over the soft, smooth skin inside his thigh. I rubbed my cheek against it. I took another deep breath between his legs. And then I began licking.
I licked his thick little perineum. It was taut; really taut with the root of his cock rounding under sinew and skin. I licked his scrotum, thoroughly. I licked up and down his shaft, and then all over his crown. Then I swallowed him, and sucked just as happily as he seemed to be doing to me.
He lay in my arms afterward, chatting softly, happily, touching my face here and there with his fingertips. I understood very little except that he seemed happy. He paused at one point, laying his boy-sized palm on my cheek. “Michael,” he whispered, almost singing it, as if he liked the sound of my name. “Mein engel. Mein wächterengel Michael,” he said even more softly, kissing my lips lightly. Then he nuzzled in under the side of my face, and I held him tightly to me. Eventually, we fell asleep.
I left him in bed the next morning. With a kiss to his soft cheek, I left him sleeping, wishing with all my heart that I could remain in bed with him. But it was Friday, and with any luck, we’d have Saturday off as well as Sunday.
The day dragged on forever. At least I obtained permission to take Saturday off. When I was finally able to head for home, I hurried, going past the place where I’d first met Günter and his friends, just in case he might have gone back to see them. He wasn’t there, but his friends were, and the oldest headed toward me.
“Soldier!” he called out.
I was afraid he might be angry or worried and want to know what I’d done with his little friend, but instead, he was all smiles. “You like Günter, ya?” he asked, catching up with me. I carried a shopping bag in one hand. He clutched on to my other arm to walk beside me, almost like a woman might. “He make you happy?” the boy asked.
I paused, looking down at him. “He makes me very happy,” I confirmed.
The dark-blond twelve-year-old nodded vigorously, grinning up at me with large, blue eyes. “He… “ He paused, searching for the word. “He… ask me yesterday… he vant to know how to… ummm… do round der vorld.” He lowered his voice, confidentially. “Günter, he never do for ein mann, but he vant to do for you,” the boy said, and looked up with a wink.
“He’d never been with a man?” I asked surprised. “Never?”
The boy shook his head. “No. Not for chocolate. Not for place to stay. I make sure he have food.”
I nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
“So?” he asked. “He do round the vorld, ya?”
I felt awkward answering, but the boy was so transparent, so guileless, I couldn’t lie to him. I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I show him,” the boy said, grinning. “Ve go quiet place und I show him. He do good, right?”
The sudden image of this boy doing for Günter the things Günter did for me the night before was unsettling in a stimulating way, but I nodded. “Very good. Thank you for… teaching him… I think.”
I was about to free my arm from him, to turn to leave, but I didn’t want to be ungrateful to the boy who had made sure Günter had food. Another thought came to me. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Bruno,” he said. “ am Bruno.”
“Bruno,” I said, “I have a friend, a Brit. I think he would like to meet you. What would you want from me if I ask you to spend the night with him?” I’m not sure why I did it. I felt like I owed Nigel something, and after my night before with Günter, it just didn’t seem right that Nigel was afraid of having a boy himself. It certainly would never bother a boy like Bruno.
Bruno winked. “He stattlich like you?” he asked.
The boy’s face scrunched in thought a moment. “Handsome,” he said. His German accent gave handsome a long, soft sound.
“Much more handsome than me,” I assured.
He looked at me suspiciously, but then smiled.
“I’ll give you bread and chocolate,” I promised.
“For whole night? You have American dollars? Five dollars.”
“Two dollars,” I countered. I’d never haggled for a boy, but in Germany, I had certainly learned how to haggle.
“Two dollars and chocolate,” Bruno countered.
“Agreed,” I said, freeing my arm. “Come.” I turned for home and Bruno quickly tagged along.
“Bruno,” I asked thoughtfully as we walked. “Did you show Günter anything else… I mean, the things you showed him yesterday? You show him anything else than around the world?”
Bruno glanced at me with a knowing grin. “No. I vanted… ya, but Günter say no.” He leaned close to me as we walked. “But Günter, he asked questions. Many questions. My… my idea is… he will show you more things.”
I swallowed hard at that thought and decided to change the subject before I sprang an erection. “How long have you known Günter?”
“Ummm,” Bruno wrestled with the right words. “Günter’s papa vas big doctor, ya? Very rich mann. Big family. Günter have many, umm, brutters… brutters?”
He nodded. “Brothers… all dead now. I find Günter sleeping in park… umm.” His eyes screwed up in concentration. “Two… months? Ya, months… two months… past.”
Like most Americans and their allies, I had not let my mind dwell on the thousands of civilians who died in the war. No one really questioned our countries’ decision to bomb German cities, not only in retaliation for their bombing of English cities, but also as a way to diminish the work force and break the will of the people. The bombing had been affective; very affective. It had taken Günter’s entire family.
Bruno talked more, but I barely listened. Instead, I grieved for Günter.
At the house, I didn’t stop by my room, but handing Bruno the two dollars, I led him upstairs. “I’ll give you the chocolate later,” I promised. Our footsteps echoed on the wooden floor of the hallway as we approached Nigel’s small room in the back corner of the house. The door was open. Nigel was sitting on his double bed, reading. I led Bruno into the room.
“I’ve picked up another stray, Nigel,” I announced. “This one’s for you. His name is Bruno, and he needs a place to stay tonight.” I gave Bruno a slight push in Nigel’s direction and backed to the door. As I pulled it shut, I saw Nigel’s eyes meet Bruno’s, and I saw my friend swallow hard, turning red.
Smiling to myself, I bounded down the stairs, and to my own room.
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