In the light of all that followed, I have always thought of those first few weeks with Günter as a gift. They were the most wonderful weeks of my life.
I was far from home, working my ass off in the rubble of an absolutely destitute country, but I’d never been so happy. I’ve never been on a honeymoon, but I think it was like that for Günter and me.
The first few days, I hurried home after work. Günter waited at attention while I inspected the room, and then we’d be in each other’s arms. The feeling of that first embrace every night, having him in my arms after being apart all day… it was joy, it was simply joy. Because I was discovering what it was like to love somebody, really love them with all my heart, someone who belonged to me, and loved me just as incredibly.
Günter was only eleven and it may not have been romantic love for him; I’m not sure it was for me. I’m not even sure what that means. But I was his white knight, and every time he whispered my name and called me his guardian angel, I wanted to be that for him. I’d do anything for him, and he did anything for me. Whatever I asked or wanted, he’d do without hesitation.
That first embrace every night was always happy. Usually, we’d have each other’s clothes off in a matter of moments. It’s not that a eleven-year-old boy can be passionate. I suppose they could be. But they can by horny, or, as we used to say, ‘randy’, and Günter got into our sex with the same enthusiasm some kids have for a sport. I can’t say that my attitude was much different. As much as some men in the States might hurry home for a round of golf, I hurried home for a round with Günter. That affection and delight with one another underlay our sex, only made it more incredible.
We would make love once or twice before even considering supper. And then, after, our ability to communicate verbally was still limited. But that wasn’t necessarily bad, because we compensated with physical expressions from small touches to backrubs to combing each other’s hair and cutting each other’s nails.
Günter treated me as if he was my body servant, and I admit, I let him. I did work hard all day; very hard. We were rebuilding a city from nothing. Günter’s nightly pampering of me restored my spirit and strength. But then, I did pamper him as well.
I began taking him to work with me; there was, as yet, no school for him. I employed him as a little assistant, and he thrived on it. He became my shadow, and was soon anticipating what I would require before I had need to say a word. Nigel started taking Bruno to work with him, and we sometimes crossed paths during the day with our assistants in tow.
Food was still scarce, even for Americans like me, but we managed well, sometimes trading and combining food with the others in the house, most often Nigel and Bruno. Günter began to look healthier.
Daily, he learned more English and I learned more German. We laughed, we learned about each other, and we screwed like bunnies. We experimented with positions almost as if we were both eleven-year-old boys discovering sex, and I really was discovering it about as much as he was.
We had favorite positions; mostly the ones that seemed most intimate, and those were usually the ones when I was inside Günter. An unexpected favorite was a position we discovered one night when we were simply relaxed and talking in our mix of broken English and German. Günter had been sitting astride my lap, facing me, playing with our two cocks as they stiffened. When mine was thick and rigid, Günter wrapped his eleven-year-old hand around it and pointed it up at the ceiling, wiggling it around. He stopped and looked up at me with a lopsided grin, and rose on his knees. He let go of my cock, and pressing his erection to my breastbone, he reached under himself to grab my shaft from behind. We applied spit to my crown, and he sat down on it.
Holding my shoulders while he adjusted to me being inside him, Günter’s cock and balls rubbed my belly, and his eyes came level with mine. He grinned.
“Good! Ya?” he asked in English and German. Grabbing under my arms, he started rocking his hips as if riding a horse. Our eyes stayed locked as I grabbed his butt and bucked gently. He leaned forward, and we kissed.
We went a little crazy for a few minutes, with the new sensations, but then slowed into an easier pace. The position was extremely pleasurable for both of us, but egalitarian as well. Günter was free move around as much as he wanted, which could be quite a bit, and I could move with him or on my own… all while kissing, or talking, or hugging, or nuzzling, or even tickling.
We had running water at the house by mid-October, and in those early days the water was on twenty-four hours. No hot water, though. One of the more mechanically oriented engineers in the house rigged up a water heating tank to work off the coal-fired furnace. We weren’t running the furnace yet, but it was in good, working order, and we had even managed to lay in a small supply of coal.
So it was in a bath of fairly cold water that Günter and I discovered the joys of bathing each other, and that our favorite new position worked in the tub as well.
At night we lay nose to nose or cuddled with Günter backed into my arms, and I taught him a more intimate English, of affection and fondness, while he taught me ways to say the same in German. We still laughed a lot at my German; it remained a source of amusement for him. I hoped Günter would forget the hardships he’d had, and yet, in the night, there were times he clung hard to me in his sleep.
Bruno remained with Nigel, and they seemed genuinely fond of each other. However, they had a different relationship. Their affection for each other didn’t keep them from trying to seduce Günter and me. They did it teasingly, however, and we turned them down, teasingly, together and separately.
Late in October, a bitter cold front arrived, and with it came… complications.
The morning the cold weather arrived, I left Günter at home because we had only one winter coat between us; mine. With no place to buy one, I stopped by the Red Cross. There were many people waiting there for winter clothing; more people than clothing was available for. There were children there who looked as though they were in much more need of the clothing than Günter. He, at least, had a warm house, relatively speaking.
Because of my position in city reconstruction, I could probably have picked what clothing we needed. But instead, I returned to my office empty handed. Despite my love for Günter, I couldn’t take a coat for him from some boy or girl living on the street.
“Give me a day or two,” I told him that night in a mixture of broken German and English. “We’ll find something.”
With that superb timing moms seem to always have, I received a package from my mom at the office, just two days later. I opened it to find a boy’s winter coat – a new woolen one – and a letter. It began,
Dear Mickey, They have been telling us at mass how cold the winter will be in Europe this year, and how war orphans and refugees are in desperate need of warm clothing. Our perish put together almost a truckload to send over. All over the country, other churches are doing the same. I imagine that little Günter has the clothes he needs, but I wanted to send him something directly from myself. After all, if you are successful at adopting him, I would be his grandmother – I’m smiling because that seems so strange…
My eyes teared up. Unexpected kindnesses don’t often do that to me, but I was tired and stressed and missing having Günter with me at work. I left the jacket in the box and carried it home that evening for Günter to open. I chose a way that wouldn’t take me past the other street boys who used to hang out with Günter and Bruno. It would be very difficult to walk past them, in the cold, with a warm coat which wasn’t for them.
In fact, I had begun avoiding places where I knew I would see hungry or homeless people, especially children. I had begun using my boss’ words, almost as a mantra; ‘You can’t feed them all, you can’t clothe them all.’ I had my one who I was helping – Günter. If I started trying to help everyone, where would be the end of it? That fall in Germany, the needy were everywhere.
When I got to the house, I found our room in shambles and many of our belongings gone. Günter was gone as well.
I called out for him. I went outside and called for him. As I headed upstairs, Nigel was on his way down.
“He’s up here, old boy. I’m afraid he’s been roughed up a bit.”
I hurriedly followed him up to his room. When we opened the door, Bruno was dabbing at Günter’s cheeks, but as soon as Günter saw me, he flung himself at me, sobbing, hard.
“What happened?” I asked, holding him to me.
“Other street boys,” Bruno said. “They know we here. They cold and hungry. Günter, he try to stop them, but they take your things.”
“Before you get angry, Michael,” Nigel said, “remember the weather outside, and that those boys are desperately cold and hungry. A street boy was found dead in the park this morning, Michael… exposure. He was younger than Günter. Bruno and Günter both knew him.”
I sat down on one of Nigel’s two chairs and pulled Günter into my lap, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make this right, Nigel,” I responded. “They didn’t need to hurt Günter, especially since both Günter and Bruno have given them food before.”
“They didn’t set out to hurt Günter, ol’ man,” Nigel said. “He fought them to protect your belongings.”
I hugged Günter and stroked his back. “None of what they took is important, Günter. Only you are important.”
“Udder boys is important, too,” Bruno said with a resentment that surprised me. “You and Nigel… you pick Günter and me because ve pretty. Vhat about not pretty boys?”
Günter, his face pressed to my chest, murmured something I didn’t catch.
“He say don’t be mad at udder boys,” Bruno translated.
Then Günter let loose a rapid stream of German mingled with racking sobs. I held him tightly, tears coming to my own eyes, not because I understood what he was saying, but because of his tears, and being tired, and having our things stolen.
Nigel understood what Günter was saying, and the Brit’s look grew increasingly compassionate. When Günter finished, Nigel came forward and laid a comforting hand on Günter’s shoulder. His eyes met mine.
“Günter,” he said, “experienced some very mixed emotions today, Michael. He felt sorry for his friends and wanted very much to share what he had with them, and yet he wasn’t about to let them take your belongings.” He lowered his voice, and rubbed Günter’s shoulder softly. “Michael, I’ve seen these boys in packs. It can be the survival of the fittest. It was a pack of them that came, and Bruno was upstairs where he couldn’t hear. Our gutsy little friend here fought them by himself to protect your things.”
“Our things,” I corrected, rubbing my cheek on the top of Günter’s head. “They were special because they were our things.”
“He showed courage, nevertheless, Michael. And I like the character he’s showing now, wanting you to forgive those boys.”
I nodded, rubbing my cheek on the top of Günter’s head. My Günter was quite a little guy.
Bruno came closer to stand beside Nigel. The Brit threw an arm over his young friend’s shoulders, and with a cocked eyebrow, Nigel drilled a finger into Bruno’s shirt, just where the boy’s right nipple should be. “Arrogant little bastard,” Nigel said with smirk. “Where’d you get the absurd idea that I picked you because you were pretty?”
Bruno smile, briefly, but grew instantly serious again. “Vhat about udder boys?” Bruno asked.
For three days, I’d been trying not to think about those other boys, out in the cold weather, or the countless other Germans in the city, struggling with starvation and exposure. “We can’t feed them all,” I murmured. “We can’t cloth them all… “
Nigel interrupted, switching his hand from Günter’s shoulder to mine. “Michael,” he remonstrated, softly, “a boy died last night.”
My throat constricted, and my eyes filled with sudden tears, again. Until that moment, I don’t think I realized how much guilt and sadness I had been feeling, and how much distress, for all those struggling to survive in the city all around us while I had food, clothing, and a warm home. During the days, I worked hard to help rebuild their city, and their plight weighed on me. But at night, Günter and I had our own private world – a world which I apparently could escape to no longer.
My engineering mind began to consider alternatives and logistics. “We can try to find food for them,” I said, wiping my cheeks with my fingers. “We can see if anyone in the house has some clothing or extra blankets.”
“Michael,” Nigel said quietly. “They need a place in from the cold. They need to be inside somewhere.”
Günter said something in German that sounded a lot like, ‘They can stay with us.’ He lifted his head and kissed my cheek. He wrapped his arms around my neck and rested his forehead on the side of my jaw.
“Michael,” he said softly. “Be engel… my… friends.”
My tears started again. I wish I could say they were because of compassion for boys out in the cold, but my memory was that they were entirely for me and Günter in that moment. I knew once we brought any boys in from the cold, it would be impossible to send them out in it again. Once we started, I knew how difficult it would be to not take in every boy we could, especially if turning one away meant he might die from hunger or cold. I knew I couldn’t do it.
I was also an engineer. I knew that it was an undertaking to clothe and feed only one more person. I was already tired, and it looked very much like Günter and my special time might be coming to an abrupt end.
“We don’t have room for many,” I said, resigned to it.
“The more boys we take in, the warmer our rooms will be,” Nigel said with a squeeze to my shoulder.
“It could take all we have, Nigel, trying to buy enough food for everyone,” I pointed out.
“Give them my food,” Bruno said, simply. “I find more food somewhere.”
I glanced up at him sharply. “I know how you’d find food, Bruno. We don’t need you to go prostituting for us.” I patted Günter’s leg. “We’ll find food,” I promised. I was a civil engineer, a city planner. I could plan for a few boys. “We’ll need to find some bedding, as well,” I said as I looked around the room. “I wonder how many boys we can fit in here and in Günter and my room. It could get crowded.”
“First things first,” Nigel said. “It’s cold tonight.” He turned to Bruno. “Do you know where to find them?”
We found eight of them that night. Two were working the street, but knew of the other six, huddled in the remains of a cold cellar which had once belonged to a large home situated near the park.
The oldest was fourteen, one of the two working the street. He had long hair, at least for back then, combed over one side. It was brown and heavy looking. He wore a pair of old glasses and was quiet, thin, and sullen; looking more like a boy scholar than a boy hooker. He came with us. Bruno called him Peter.
The youngest boy was one we found in the cellar, shivering almost uncontrollably. He looked to be no more than eight years old. I knew as soon as I saw him that he wouldn’t have made it, though he lay huddled with two other boys under a blanket that looked suspiciously like one missing from my room.
The eight-year-old’s clothes were thin. His limbs felt icy. I was wearing my woolen greatcoat – my mom made sure I brought a warm coat to Germany. I opened my coat and picked the boy up, bringing him inside my coat to carry him, belly to belly, like a parent might carry a child to warm him. He got the idea, squeezing my hips between his legs and holding on with his arms around my chest. As best I could with one arm, I held the coat closed behind him and him to me.
Nigel patted my back. “You know he’s probably got lice.”
I nodded. “He and I will get rid of them later.”
Nigel kissed my cheek and patted my back again.
I shivered a little. Holding the boy to me was like holding ice to my belly. An older boy, maybe ten, came up alongside me and took my free hand, saying something in German.
Bruno translated. “The boy in your coat… he is Alby and this is his brudder… Franz.”
Franz’s hand was like ice and the boy was shivering as badly as his brother. His clothes looked no warmer than Alby’s.
“Oh, hell,” I murmured. I dropped to a knee, shifting Alby around onto one hip under my coat, and I brought Franz into the coat as well, pulling him onto my other hip as I stood back up. There was quite a bit of shuffling around inside my greatcoat as the boys latched onto my sides and did their best to hold the coat closed around them. It was a challenge; the coat was big, but not that big.
I took a couple of steps. Günter, standing close by, muttered something that caused Nigel, Bruno, and a boy or two to laugh.
“He says you look like a monster in the cinema,” Nigel said.
Günter looked abashed, I’m sure because he alluded to my limp as much as my misshapen greatcoat and three heads. I gave him a mock frown and growling, made as if to lunge at him… like a monster. Günter laughed and dodged away.
As we hurried back toward the house, I began to organize everybody, even while juggling two boys on my hips, under my greatcoat. “Nigel,” I said, “you organize some warm food for them. There’s nothing left in my room, but knock on doors. Some of the men may still be up, and perhaps they will contribute something. The boys will also need baths; I think I can already feel lice inside my clothes. A hot bath will help them warm up as well. Günter and Bruno, you two will help me. Get what towels you can. George, the big guy on your floor, Bruno, has some powder he says is really good for delousing. See if he’ll let us use it. We’ll powder the boys, bathe them, and then powder them again, and their clothes.”
The house was probably no warmer than ten or so degrees, or fifty degrees Fahrenheit, but it felt wonderful compared to outside. We lined the street boys up in the hallway outside the ground floor bathroom, and then started with Alby and Franz. I left them together in my coat while I drew the bath, careful to not get the water too hot.
Meanwhile, Nigel’s search for food had roused the house. I had been afraid of the reaction of the other men in the house to our invasion, but many of the men brought us bedding and towels to use. We even managed to come up with enough shirts for every boy to have one to sleep in.
We put the two little brothers into the tub together, and we scrubbed them. I was reminded, in a way, of bathing my dog back home. But not completely – I had been having sex with a prepubescent boy for several weeks – in fact, Günter was the only sex partner I’d ever had – and it was impossible to not notice the brothers’ little cocks and smooth little bottoms. But we were businesslike, and worked quickly. I watched to see if Günter might be a little jealous of Alby and Franz, since I had carried them, and then bathed them, but he treated them like younger brothers, and I was quickly distracted; there were six other boys to clean.
We worked from youngest to oldest. Günter and Bruno led the boys away to warm food when I finished with them, and then to makeshift beds on the floors of Nigel and my rooms. We didn’t ask any of the other men to take boys in, and none offered.
Günter and Bruno became increasingly involved in the kitchen and bedrooms, and Peter, the oldest of the boys – the scholarly looking boy – started helping me.
He spoke good English, but he kept staring at me as we worked. Finally, I asked. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
He looked down and away. “You are very handsome,” he said.
I felt my face go slightly red, but I continued scrubbing the hair of the boy I was working on. “You’re a nice looking boy yourself,” I told him.
“Do you like boys?” he asked, returning his gaze to me.
I nodded. “I’ve got one, though; Günter.”
Peter nodded, but kept staring.
Finally, it was down to just him and me. As he undressed, I ran a little fresh water into the tub, but my eyes, irresistibly, kept darting to his body.
He was thin, and his skin was quite pale, but he really was a nice looking boy. He had a dense little patch of pubic hair over a thick little cock. I knew it was thick because it grew as he stood beside me while I knelt at the tub.
“Get in,” I told him, patting his bare bottom.
He steadied himself with a hand on my shoulder, and stepped into the tub with that light grace common to some boys, just turned adolescent. He sat down, and I ladled warm water over his back, and then onto his hair.
There were suds on the surface of the water, but I could see that his cock became fully erect as I scrubbed over his back and onto his scalp. Bruno brought a towel and left it beside me, then left. Peter lay back for me to rinse his hair, and his cock almost broke the surface. I did my best to ignore it, but other than Günter’s, I hadn’t seen any one else’s erection; man or boy. Peter’s was thick, and it drew the eye. It drew the hand as well, but I didn’t give in to the urge.
He stood to work on his belly and down his body. I helped with his butt and the backs of his legs. I liked his body. I liked the subtle differences between the body of a boy like Günter, and an early teen like Peter. I was still kneeling, and at one point, he turned to face me, making a point of touching the crown of his cock to my cheek. I quietly turned him back to face away.
We rinsed him, and I handed him the towel as he stepped from the tub, still fully erect.
“Would you like to suck my penis?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “but I won’t. I save all my penis sucking for Günter.” I gave him a smile to let him know I wasn’t mad at his asking. It was to be expected, after all. He might be a quiet, scholarly boy by nature, but he’d been peddling his body on the street, and that can change even a scholar.
“Are you going to bathe?” he asked.
I needed to delouse before heading into other parts of the house and to bed. “Yes, please have Bruno bring me a towel.”
“I can help you bathe,” Peter offered, “the way you helped me.”
His offer seemed polite, as much as it might be sexual, and for some reason, it struck me as maybe important to let the boy help with things, even that first night. After all, if the boys were with us for a while, it might be good to have an older one like Peter helping out, and he’d already been useful helping with the younger boys’ baths. I wasn’t about to let him help me bathe, though. “You can help Nigel and the others. Ask Günter to bring me a towel that isn’t soaking, then find yourself a shirt and get something hot to eat. When you’re done, ask Nigel what he wants done next.”
Günter arrived in the bathroom, just as the tub finished refilling. He kissed my lips before I got in, but I kept him back a bit, just in case I picked up any head lice from one of the boys.
Günter scrubbed my back and my hair, talking almost non-stop, mainly about the other boys, from what I could gather. As I relaxed under his familiar care, my mind raced ahead to the things I would need to accomplish the next day.
It was almost the next day by the time we finished washing their clothes and cleaning up after the boys. It was almost three in the morning. Bruno and Peter were still helping Nigel and me. The other boys were all bedded down already.
“Tomorrow,” I told Bruno and Peter while we were still in the kitchen, “don’t send the boys back out into the cold, but don’t let them have run of the house either. They must stay out of the men’s rooms.”
“They can’t keep the boys confined to our rooms, Michael,” Nigel protested.
“I know, but if we intend to keep the boys here, they must stay out of the men’s way, and they cannot steal from the men, no matter how hungry they might get. If it grows warm enough tomorrow, you can take the boys outside for awhile. Nigel and I will get home as quickly as we can tomorrow night, and we’ll bring food.”
“I have a friend,” Peter said. “He was with a man tonight. He’s probably alone now. Tomorrow, I can bring him here?”
“Of course,” I said with a sigh. I knew there’d be more.
We headed for bed.
Alby, Franz, and another boy, a twelve-year-old named Claus, were in Günter’s and my room, sleeping on the floor. Peter had reserved himself a place in our room as well. Günter was already asleep when I undressed and crawled under the single blanket we’d kept for ourselves. I chuckled to myself because Günter was wearing the coat my mom sent him, but only that, and socks.
Peter glanced up at me when I chuckled. “Good night, Peter,” I told him. “Thank you for all your help.”
“Thank you,” he said, as he lay down beside Claus. “I know why Günter calls you engel.”
My eyes fell to Günter’s face in the dim light. If there was an angel in the room, certainly, it was my blond little Günter. I opened his coat and slipped a knee between his legs as I drew him to me. I closed my eyes, wondering where I would find enough food for tomorrow.
The next day passed furiously fast as I tried to handle my job and still find time to locate clothing and buy food. When I got home, Peter had found his friend who was with a man the night before. Heinrich was a thirteen-year-old who now had a bed next to Peter’s in our room. They brought in another boy that day, a ten-year-old who moved into Nigel’s room.
It was very late again that night when we finally made it to bed, but Günter had stayed up with me this time. He helped me undress, and I relaxed to let him. Though I was exhausted, I thought to myself that I could handle working my butt off every day, if, at night, Günter continued to take care of me.
Once under the covers, he pressed his naked body to mine and pressed his lips to mine for kisses. As quietly as I could, I made love to him, hoping the other boys had fallen asleep. But the bed creaked; there wasn’t much I could do about that. With Günter writhing under me, I really didn’t care.
When we finished, there were other noises in the room. In the dim light, I could make out Peter lying on top of Heinrich, belly to belly, just as Günter and I still were. They were still pumping however, and they were uncovered. I watched Peter’s little rump rise and fall between Heinrich’s thin legs. His own thin legs, with their long thigh muscles, flexed and his butt dimpled. At the time, I didn’t worry about the boys having sex in the room with us. Besides being dead tired, what was I to do? They were street boys, used to sex, and Günter and I weren’t about to give up our lovemaking because of them. I couldn’t help it that the room was crowded.
The next day was again challenging, though we found decent clothes for all the boys, including the three new ones who joined us that day. We had acquired enough food for the next day as well. After feeding the boys, Nigel and I sat down to our own supper while the boys cleaned up. While we ate and talked with Bruno and Peter about what to feed the boys the next day, little Alby crawled up into my lap. He leaned back comfortably against me, as a child might sit in his father’s lap while his father worked and talked to other men.
Nigel smiled. I glanced over at Günter who was working with the other boys, to see if he would be jealous to see another boy in my lap. He barely seemed to notice, and I thought vaguely that Günter should care because Alby’s little butt in my lap stirred my cock, even though I didn’t intend for it to.
When we put the boys to bed that night, Alby and Franz both wanted me to tuck them in. I did, kissing each of their foreheads the way my mom used to kiss mine.
I had other things to do before going to bed myself, and it was much later that I came back to the room. When I did, I found Franz sleeping in Peter’s arms and Heinrich sleeping spooned behind Claus. They were shirtless, and I assumed naked under the covers.
Street boys or not, I didn’t want the older boys forcing themselves on the younger. I was almost surprised that Alby was still on the floor and not in Günter’s arms. I was grateful for that. That night as I pulled Günter’s sleeping form onto my side, it wasn’t just food I worried about for the coming day; I also worried about whether we would need to set some rules in our little group.
My email address is firstname.lastname@example.org. Because of the great response I've had to the first three chapters, I have decided to take a little longer getting to the end of this story. It will be another chatper or two. Please let me hear from you if you enjoyed the chapter. :)