By Friday night that first week, we had fourteen boys distributed between our two rooms. That evening, David and Charlie, two men who shared a room in the attic, sat Nigel and me down in the kitchen. “Look, guys,” David said, “our one room is bigger than your two rooms combined, and we can make it bigger; it only takes up a third of the attic right now. Let’s trade rooms this weekend. You two and your war orphans take our room, and we’ll take yours. Then next week we’ll help you round up some lumber. With a little lumber and a little work, we can make the entire attic into a little dormitory for you.”
I glanced at Nigel.
He grinned at me, obviously liking the idea. Then he turned to David. “That’s awfully decent of you Yanks,” Nigel said. “I for one would appreciate an extra cubic foot or two. You’ve no idea how much German boys fart and how torturous that is in a closed little room like mine.”
The two men roared with laughter.
“He’s not joking,” I said. “My room’s even smaller.”
Charlie and David laughed louder.
I turned to Nigel. "Where the hell are we going to find lumber?"
After the men left, Nigel leaned closer. “Looks like we’ll finally be roommates, Michael,” he said with a grin. His face was close and his clear eyes were happy with affection. Before, Nigel and I had Bruno and Günter in common. Now, we had an entire enterprise. What had been an instant friendship was becoming a fulltime partnership. I was glad it was Nigel.
Nigel and his group of boys headed for their room. As I watched them leave, Günter straddled my lap. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he looked me in the eye. “You… like Nigel,” he said more than asked.
“I always have,” I answered.
Günter studied me. I laughed and hugged him; no one else was around but Peter and Heinrich. “It’s just you and me, kid,” I whispered.
Günter hugged my neck.
I got up from my chair, grabbing Günter up with my hands under his butt. He wrapped his legs around my waist and clung to my neck. I held him with one hand under his butt and wrapped my other around his back, holding him close, savoring the feel of his soft cheek on mine and his slender frame in my arms. “Günter angel,” I said softly.
“Michael engel,” he whispered.
I stepped toward our room off the kitchen. Heinrich stepped in front to open the door for me and I nodded my thanks. Heinrich winked, and as I stepped past him, he gave my butt a half-grab, half-pat. “Nein, Heinrich!” I groused, but with a chuckle. It was hard to be angry with the thirteen-year-old because he was a good natured boy who made our crowded room more bearable with his humor.
Three sleeping boys covered much of the meager floor space, other than the little corner belonging to Peter and Heinrich. It was crowded enough that Alby lay sleeping on Günter’s and my bed.
We didn’t move him. I thought we could let the eight-year-old share our twin bed for one night. The following night, we would have more space. Günter and I simply undressed and I lifted the blanket for us to crawl under with Alby. I had to chuckle. In the dim light, I could see Alby’s bare little bottom. Peter and Heinrich slept in the nude like Günter and me. The boys had begun sleeping in the nude, as well, and obviously, Alby wanted to be one of them.
Günter slid in, back to Alby’s, and he opened his arms to me. I slid into them and felt his twig of an erection against my belly at about the same time the end of mine poked into the crease inside his leg. He grinned. “Alby’s butt touch mine,” he said.
“It can’t be as soft as your’s,” I whispered.
“It soft,” Günter said. “See?” He took my hand, pulling it behind him. I felt both boys’ bottoms. The two were touching, and it was impossible to tell who had a softer bottom, the eleven-year-old or the eight-year-old.
From behind me, I heard Heinrich’s and Peter’s muted laughter. It sounded like they were wrestling; typical boys.
“I like your bottom much better,” I whispered to Günter, brushing his lips with mine.
“I like yours,” Günter whispered back, and grinned.
He did like my butt. He’d made that clear before. With a promising smile of my own, I rolled away and backed my butt into his lap. I had an erection, but I was dead tired and it didn’t matter to me if Günter simply wanted to have his fun and then the two of us fall asleep. We spat and lubed up with saliva, and then I felt the blunt thickness of Günter’s twig of a cock between my butt cheeks; it always felt so much thicker there than it looked.
He eased his crown in, opening me. Then he slid in quickly, and his cock felt good up my butt. He moved, and I moved with him, closing my hand over my own erection… maybe I would come with him.
I knew Günter preferred me on my belly, so reaching back, I grabbed his bottom to hold us together, and we rolled; me onto my stomach and Günter onto my back. I kept my hand, palm up, between my legs, and I started grinding my cock into my palm as Günter’s cock rubbed furiously against my prostate. “Oh, damn,” I muttered.
The bed bounced with our movements. I glanced at Alby, lying beside us. The little guy could have slept through a bombing, I thought, and then realized he probably had, more than once.
I woke between Günter and Alby. The sun was well up. I heard people stirring upstairs. It was Saturday, and I had a hell of an erection. And then I realized why. It wasn’t just morning wood; I was being fondled. At first I thought it was Günter because his head was on my shoulder. But his arm was across my chest. No, it was Alby.
Lifting my head, I looked down my body. The blanket was below my knees, and I was exposed. The side of Alby’s face rested on my belly and his small hand was around my cock, moving it around. The fingers of his other hand were under my balls.
In my sleep, I had rested my hand on Alby’s back. Now I patted it. “Pull up the covers and go back to sleep, Alby,” I mumbled, laying my head back down.
“Aw,” another boy’s voice said, and I lifted my head again, higher, to look down my body. Twelve-year-old Claus looked up from between my legs. It was his fingers under my balls.
I let my head drop back. “Geez, get away guys. Those toys belong to Günter.”
I said it in English, and of course, neither boy spoke it. They kept fondling, probably thinking I’d just said I liked what they were doing.
Günter had heard, though, and sat up. He said something to them in German, and there followed a rapid exchanged of boys’ voices, too fast for me to understand. Günter didn’t sound as angry as I thought he would, though I figured he would put an end to the boys’ playing. But then his hand joined Alby’s on my cock, and his voice took on an instructional tone as he started to jack me.
“Günter,” I said, propping up on my elbows, “what are you doing?”
“He’s teaching them how to play with your penis and testicles,” fourteen-year-old Peter said from the corner. He got up from his bedding and came toward the foot of our bed. He was naked, of course, and his own cock had begun to rise. “You have a nice penis, Michael.”
The other boys in the room stirred.
“Cock,” Günter corrected. “Is called cock.”
I was somewhat immobilized by the three boys, already at my middle; not that they were pinning me down, but rather, the pleasure their hands were giving me, arrested me. The other boys gathered around the foot of the bed. It was surreal. I felt like a patient in an operating theater with Günter explaining my anatomy to a group of fellow practitioners.
“Cock is slang,” I murmured, laying my head back down, thinking I should stop this, but… what a hell of a way to wake up on a Saturday morning. “In English, guys call a penis all sorts of things,” I continued, being instructional myself, “but they rarely call it a penis. They call it a dick or a cock or even… “ I lifted my head and looked at Peter with an amused grin, “or even a peter.”
He didn’t miss a beat. Peter’s eyes met mine with an uncharacteristic twinkle. “That’s because boys named Peter always have big… cocks.”
I laughed, laying my head back down again. “Good answer.”
Alby’s ten-year-old brother Franz climbed astride my belly, facing the other way, getting a better look at the action at my middle. His little bottom bones dug into my stomach, and I grabbed the sides of his little bottom, defensively. “Now how about you boys let me up,” I said.
“They want to see you shoot sperm,” Peter said, crowding in with the others. My small bed shifted as boys climbed on it like an overcrowded life raft.
“Oh, come on,” I protested. “They’ve seen guys shoot off before… this group especially.” But because I was curious, I added, “I bet even Alby has.”
“Alby has not seen a grown man,” Peter said. “Günter says you shoot a lot of sperm. He said the first time he sucked your… cock, you shot sperm up his nose.”
“He told you about that?”
Peter laughed and said something in German. All the boys laughed. “It is a funny story,” Peter said.
“You O-K, Michael?” Günter asked, raising his head for only a moment.
“No,” I groaned, partly because more hands and fingers were touching me than I could count. And then a mouth closed over the end of my cock. I gasped and lifted my head once more. It was Günter, but even though the boys all knew what Günter and I did together, I knew I should stop everything at that point. It occurred to me that what was happening could backfire later if I needed to set rules for these boys. But then, I was only twenty-two years old myself, with one hell of a hard-on and a growing need to come… and Günter was about to take care of me. He licked my crown like he always did; like a kid with an ice cream cone. I gasped as his tongue stroked my crown. Surely I didn’t need to stop him just yet.
But then Günter lifted his head from my cock, and from his words, I assumed he was explaining to Alby and the others what he’d just done. I couldn’t see because Franz was still straddling my stomach. I just held onto his little butt. Günter closed his mouth over my cock again, but then I realized it wasn’t Günter’s mouth, but some other mouth, and Günter was saying something in German again.
“Oh, crap,” I murmured. “Who’s sucking my cock now?”
“Alby,” Peter said.
I groaned. “Oh, geez, Günter! What are you doing?” I squeezed Franz’s little hips more tightly and glanced away, trying to not become too aroused by the eight-year-old’s mouth on my cock. It wouldn’t do to shoot cum up another little boy’s nose.
“It is obvious” Peter answered. “Günter is teaching us how to suck a man’s cock.”
“Us?” I asked, my voice rising. “None of you randy-assed little fuckers need any instruction in that sort of thing!”
I felt air on my damp crown as Alby’s mouth came off, and then ten-year-old Franz bent forward; I could feel his little ballsack on my belly. I guessed it was his mouth I felt next, closing over my cock. I glanced down at the boys through one eye. It was Franz.
“Geez,” I murmured and a shudder ran through my body.
“What is ‘randy-assed’?” Peter asked.
I groaned. I was to be subjected to all this and I was supposed to give an English lesson? I told myself that I finally needed to put a stop to all of this, but then Heinrich bent into my middle. His mouth closed over my cock and his tongue swirled my crown in a way Günter’s had never done. It sent a physical jolt up my cock. “Holy shit!” I cried, half sitting up and almost throwing little Franz off my belly.
Heinrich was good. He had me gasping and my hips bucking in seconds. I’m sure I squeezed the hell out of little Franz’s hips. The bed shifted as boys shuffled for a better look. I glanced down the bed.
All the boys except Peter were bent over my middle. Peter, however, was on his knees behind Heinrich, who was butt high, knees planted on either side of my left leg, sucking on my cock. Just as I glanced Peter eased his dick into Heinrich’s bottom.
“I’m going to shoot,” I warned them through clenched teeth.
Peter said something and Heinrich’s mouth came off my cock. Then he grabbed Heinrich by the hips, and began to pump easily. It was mesmerizing.
Claus stirred, and took my cock into his mouth again. As he did, one of the new boys came around to kneel behind him, and in a moment, he was doing to Claus, what Peter was doing to Heinrich right beside them.
At the sight of those pairs of boys, their lean bodies flexing, I needed to come; I really needed to come.
“Günter,” I murmured, desperately.
Günter quickly said something to Claus, who pulled off. By that point, I think all of them had their hands around my cock or around other boy’s hands around my cock. They squeezed more than stroked.
I bucked into their combined fists, and, when I shot off, it was pretty spectacular. Boys dodged back from my middle, Peter cheered, and Franz, still straddling my belly, took most of my shots to his chest and tummy. At that, they laughed and pointed.
My first returning, coherent thought was, “What the hell am I doing?” My second thought was, “How the hell do I tell Nigel about this?”
Nigel reached across the kitchen table, took a sip from my cup of coffee and shrugged as he set it back down
“The little buggers are used to sex, Mikey,” he said, “and they like it. It’s not like we can tell them to stop. How would we enforce that? I couldn’t; not while I’m buggering the stuffing out of Bruno on my own bed.” He shook his head. “No, old bean. I’m afraid the lads have been bloody active in my room, as well.”
There were boys around us, eating or cleaning up the kitchen. None of the men from the house were around, so we didn’t worry about keeping our conversation private. Only Peter and Bruno spoke enough English to follow along, and it really wouldn’t have made a difference for them to hear. But then Nigel leaned closer.
“You know Oscar?” Nigel asked. “The blond boy standing over at the sink beside Claus… twelve-years-old like Bruno? He and Bruno are evidently good friends. Anyway… “ Nigel paused with a sheepish look, and lowered his voice even more. “Bruno invited him into our bed. I’ve been buggering Oscar as well.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
“It’s all quite friendly,” Nigel quickly added. “We have a lovely time.”
I glanced at Oscar. Like all the boys, he was thin, though he had a well-rounded little bottom. He had a long face with a wide mouth, but a nice chin. His hair was light blond like Günter’s and he was actually a nice looking kid
“I bet so,” I murmured.
It was a good day. Exchanging rooms involved all the boys, as well as many trips up and down stairs. But the boys were happy. It showed. They had a home; a nice one by post-war German standards.
The attic was warm, and not at all uncomfortable. Though we had no beds for the boys, we had bedding, and two old couches. There were two dormer-windows which let in a good amount of light. And, though it was crowded, there was definitely more space than we had in our two, tiny rooms. Our new room took up almost a third of the east end of the attic.
We noticed from the beginning that the boys tended to pair up as friends; Peter and Heinrich, Bruno and Oscar, for example. They set up their beds in pairs as well. Again, for example, Bruno and Oscar set their belongings with Nigel’s and it was obvious they would share his bed. It was big enough for three, snuggly.
We could have put mine and Nigel’s beds at opposite ends or the room, and probably should have to convey the proper, supervisory note, but we chose to put them close to each other, beside the dormer-window at the east end of the room.
Peter and Bruno set up their bedding at the foot of my bed. However, that was where Alby and Franz wanted to be. Instead, the little brothers made their bed under the dormer-window between Nigel’s bed and mine, where we almost stepped on them when we got out of bed. We didn’t move them, though. It seemed important to the little ones to be near us. Instead, we gave them one of our few quilts, since they would be under the window.
Günter made his bed with me, of course. The other boys made their beds around the room, but not on the couches. Those were reserved for everyone’s use during the day.
Something else we noticed from the start was that, though he wasn’t the oldest, Bruno assumed an easy, natural leadership of the boys. Remembering that it was he who forced the issue to bring the boys in off the street, I thought it was appropriate. He obviously cared for them, and he was fair-minded. The boys liked him, and leadership came naturally to him.
That grated on Peter, though, because he was the oldest. It made it worse that his best friend, Heinrich, tended to follow along with Bruno, just like the other boys. There were two conflicts between Peter and Bruno that first day. Twice the two argued, and twice, Nigel and I sided with Bruno because he happened to be right.
Peter sulked, and I tried to think what I could do for him because I liked the scholarly looking boy and felt sorry for him. I asked him to help me fix supper for the boys that evening, thinking it would be good to have a little time together.
Two other boys helped as well, and when supper was ready, they left Peter and me alone to go get the others. Wiping my hands on a towel, I turned to Peter with a smile.
“Thanks for the help,” I told him, and I gave his shoulder a squeeze. It was as if I pushed a button. Suddenly his arms were around my chest and he was hugging me hard.
I patted his back and hugged him in return. He seemed to need it. But then I felt his hardness against my leg. “No Peter,” I said, as gently as I could, separating myself from him. I held him from me with my hands on his shoulders. “You know I like you, Peter,” I told him. “But don’t expect me to have sex with you. You’ve got Heinrich, and I’ve got Günter.”
He frowned. “Ya, and so? We can do things, too.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m not going to.”
“Even if Günter does things with other boys?” Peter asked, cocking an eyebrow.
I wanted to ask if Günter had been doing that – things with other boys; he would have certainly had opportunities those first couple of days when Nigel and I had to leave the boys to go off to work. But I didn’t get to ask, because boys came pouring into the kitchen for supper. Instead, I quickly shook my head. “Even if he does things with other boys,” I replied.
We sent them to bathe in their pairs that night, and each pair took their time; even Alby and Franz, though when Nigel peeked, the two brothers were only playing in the tub. Günter and I went second to last; right before Nigel, Bruno, and Claus.
In the bathroom, we undressed, and when naked, Günter came to me, reaching up around my neck with both arms. I bent to him, grabbing him under the butt to lift him up against me. He wrapped his legs around my waist and we held each other for a moment, finally alone and quiet.
“Michael, engel,” he whispered and kissed in front of my ear.
“Günter angel,” I replied.
“You engel many boys now,” he said, quietly, pressing the side of his face to mine.
“But I love you,” I whispered back, kissing the inside of his neck.
He hugged me more tightly and my erection rose up under his butt.
That night, Günter and I pulled the sheet over our head and ignored a room full of boys while we nuzzled one another. He smiled at me and stroked the side of my face with his fingers, and it was as if it was just him and me again.
My eyes grew wet. I was tired and stressed, and it felt wonderful to be with just Günter. There was light in the room, and some made it under our sheet. Günter smiled gently, and kissed the dampness from my eyes.
I’d been with two dozen boys for several days now. The war had made them all older than boys their age should be, but it struck me at that moment that none of the others had the tender spirit of my Günter.
I was twenty-two and alone in a far country. I was tired and lonely for home. But in my bed was Günter, and he made me happy. It was ironic that Günter, who had lost everything and everyone, would be the one to comfort me. I kissed him, and wept silently, my tears wetting his face. He grabbed me by the shoulders and, rolling to his back, pulled on me so that I moved up over him.
The bed sheet fell back from our heads and shoulders, but I ignored it, looking down into the deep blue eyes of boy much older than his eleven years. My hips settled between his legs, my cock pressed between our bellies along with his.
With a rush of desperate affection in my heart, I covered his mouth with mine. He kissed back, clutched my hair, and pulled his knees and slender legs up on either side of my waist.
“Put inside me, Michael,” he whispered, breaking for breath. “Make us come.”
Sorry to be so long posting this. I've been away from my computer for a number of days. I also have a few emails to get to, and will soon. Please don't let that keep you from emailing to let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, though. :) My email address is firstname.lastname@example.org.