Date: Mon, 28 Jan 2002 03:58:50 -0800 (PST) From: Bob Archman Subject: Europa 7 Europa 7 By Bald Hairy Man Email, bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com, The Excite address doesn't work any more. This is an adult story for adults. It is not intended for minors, nor for persons who are offended by alternate life styles. If you are offended, Don't Read the story! There is no effort expended to make this story realistic or depict safe sex practices. This story is a fantasy, not a sex manual. I told Wolfie the Gestapo's plans before I left the Chateau. He would inform the General. Wolfie told me the General's first instincts were always to save himself. He would be worried about being sent to the Russian front. He would have no interest in saving Frenchmen from deportation to Germany. Wolfie said, however, he would do what he could, but the Gestapo probable knew more about him than was healthy and any help would be limited. I went home. It was three in the morning and my Aunt was awake. "I was afraid they had arrested you." she said. "Why would they do that?" I asked. "I know all about the Jews and the people from Paris. If I could figure it out, they can!" she said. She was angry. Fortunately she was angry I hadn't confided in her. No one despised the Nazi's, or their Vichy lap dogs, more than she. I told her what I had discovered about the deportations. I was trying to figure out how to get the word out. She burst out laughing. "Dear Jean, " she said, "you know I am a virtuous woman, upright in every way. I do have one vice. Your mother, may she rest in eternal peace, scolded me about it for years. I am a gossip. I talk to other gossips and we make life difficult for some people who deserve it and some who do not, I am afraid. I will get the word out. Everyone in the town will know by noon! Unless they don't associate with women. I will leave that up to you." "You know about that too?" I asked. "It runs in the family, Dear Jean. It runs in the family." My Aunt had never married and suddenly I understood. I went to bed feeling good. The next day was filled with activity. We had a new shipment from the Museum. Bronze Age pots and homosexual set designers from the Left Bank. I saw the Prefect of Police on the street and informed him of the problem in the radio department of the Gendarmerie. I spoke in very guarded terms, but he understood. He had already got wind of the deportations. My Aunt was as efficient as always. Otto came by the museum and wanted to go looking for a cave in which to store his paintings. He had an assistant with him, Willie. Max was driving the car. I took them to the Elk cave that was in the opposite direction out of town from the Blue Bear Cave. The Elk Cave was just as secluded as the other, but was high on the side of a cliff, cool and dry. Otto was very satisfied. We returned to town and went to Otto's hotel suite. I wanted to get back to the museum, but I promised to come by after diner to have a drink and reminisce. When I got back to the museum, the German soldiers had been called back to the Chateau. The General was expecting an important visitor and there had to be an honor guard. This was a stroke of luck for us. Emile was there, but he was worried. The set designers didn't inspire confidence in their ability to climb over a mountain. I felt the same way, but Louis had good judgment and I assumed they would make it. I went home and found a note from my Aunt, saying she had gone to the Convent of the Sacre Coeur and would be back the in the morning. My Aunt was a pillar of Calvinist rectitude and I was puzzled. Then I remembered the nuns were teachers in the village's schools. They could warn their students. I returned to the hotel and had dinner with Otto and Willie. Otto was gracious, but uneasy. Willie was a classic German flunky. He idolized Otto and did his bidding, but never criticized or analyzed. Willie specialized in fawning admiration. Otto needed help. He was tormented by nightmare visions of Germany destroyed and Dresden burning. He was desperate to save anything he could testifying to the scholarly and cultured Germany he loved and the Nazi's ruined. At this point of the war it was hard to credit his fears. The Nazis were triumphant on all fronts. I tried to reassure him, to no avail. Wolfie appeared after dinner. We went to Otto's suite and had a drink. Otto was in the Bridal suite. A Nazi official was in the Royal suite. The Bridal suite was furnished in pink and white and Otto looked incongruous in the ultra feminine interior. I thought that conversation with Otto and me was Wolfie's objective for the visit. It took me only a few minutes to realize Willie was the prize. Wolfie whispered to me he had given Willie a trial run the day before and thought the young man had potential. "He's inexperienced, but liked anything I tried." I hadn't looked at Willie again. I am not attracted to servile men and hadn't considered him as a sexual partner. Willie was perhaps 25, average in height and weight with a slight tendency to be pudgy. He looked soft. He had dark brown hair and a small mustache. It seemed odd Wolfie was still hunting for men in the middle of a war, then I remembered the night before with Max, Hans and me behind the tapestry. I was fucking for France. I smiled at the thought. "You look happy, Jean." Otto said. "It is good to see you again. I feel much better." "Even in wartime. old friends are still friends." I said. He put his arms around me and gave me a bear hug. I had been careful about drinking, but no one else was. Soon we were in the bedroom. Otto and I were sucking each other. He had lost a lot of weight and this made his cock seem larger. I was curiously exited. I didn't know you could feel nostalgia sucking cock. It was wonderful to be sucking his cock tasting his cock dribble. For a moment I was back fifteen years, tasting his cock for the first time. I felt the same excitement. Wolfie and Willie entered the room. "May we join you on the bed?" Wolfie asked. Otto climaxed. He ejaculated a rich creamy load into my mouth. I ate every drop. "Please do." Otto said. "Willie is a nice boy." "Is it all right, Herr Professor?" Willie asked. "Of course, Wolfie and Jean are dear friends. We have always been very open." Otto said. "There is no combination of cock, ass or mouth we haven't explored freely." I was still sucking the seed from Otto's cock, so I could confirm that. Willie was more than willing to join in. Willingness and enthusiasm were his strong suit. He and Otto had a teacher-student fantasy in which Otto gave him sex lessons and Willie complied. Willie was a pure bottom, a sex toy. He just wanted to give pleasure. He wasn't muscular at all, except in his throat and ass. I wasn't sure I wanted to play with Willie, but changed my mind. Wolfie fucked him, as Otto gave instructions. Otto told Wolfie where to poke and how to turn on Willie. I was holding Willie in my arms while Wolfie poked. Then Otto got him to pull out, so he could demonstrate good fucking technique. Willie loved Otto's cock in his ass. Actually Willie liked it all. Wolfie traded places with Otto again and returned to plowing Willie's ass. Much to my surprise. Wolfie shot off after only a few minutes. Otto reentered the willing man's ass as soon as Wolfie finished shooting. Otto pulled out shortly and was dripping. At first I thought it was Wolfie's cum, but Otto's cock twitched and a bead of cum emerged from Otto's slit and fell to the floor. It remained connected to the cock by a filament of cum. His cock twitched a second time and the blob stayed on the head. Both men had unloaded. I got into fucking position. The second my cock head penetrated Willie's sphincter I knew why Wolfie popped. Willie's ass was a wonder, hot juicy and willing. He was really tight, even with all the man cream lubricating his ass. Willie undulated his ass and rectum so his tunnel massaged my cock. Both Otto and Wolfie were good sized men, but my big meat gave him a jolt when I went deep. A welcome jolt, it seemed. Willie had remarkable control over the muscles in his ass. At first I felt as if I were being milked, then he seemed to caress my cock with his rectum. It was a new and very enjoyable feeling. I understood why Wolfie and Otto popped so quickly. Willie changed to the doggy style position so he could lick the cum from Wolfie and Otto's cocks while I fucked. This took some of the pressure off my cock and I spent a long while in his ass. By the time I shot off, Wolfie was ready to go again. We had several hours of this mindless fun. I returned to my cold house and slept as soundly as I had in months. My Aunt was back at seven and she was enraged. The Master of Notre Dame College had refused to send any of his older students into hiding or to Switzerland. Father DeMoulin firmly believed the Nazis and Vichy were the proper antidotes to the communist and the traitor Petain had France's best interests at heart. The College was a school for boys, many of the students were orphans. The Master even said he hoped some of the boys would join the Germans to fight the Russians. My Aunt had been trying to convince the nuns to intervene on the boys' behalf. She believed that strong willed women could change the mind of Father DeMoulin. "The Mother Superior is an absolute fool!" my aunt ranted. "An idiot! She said the good Father knew what was best for his boys! " My Aunt was a staunch Calvinist and I had wondered if she would have any influence on the nuns. She was very forceful and must have thought her own decisiveness would carry the day. She was wrong. She was still ranting when Emile returned from the cave. "They are all safe." he said. "The mountains were filled with men, alone or in small groups heading towards Switzerland. We spent half of the trip hiding from them. We thought they were Germans." "Your party looked as if they were weak." I said. "It was rough for them, but I didn't hear a word of complaint. One said, he'd rather freeze to death here, than die in a concentration camp." Emile replied. My Aunt then went over her struggles with the Master of the Notre Dame College. "If they go to Germany they will never return, you know that, don't you?" Emile said. "Of course I know that!" snapped my Aunt. "It's a death sentence. I don't know what to do!" This was a unusual confession for my Aunt. She always knew what to do. I went off to the museum and soon was totally immersed in my work. I was filling my museum with art from Paris museums, while I prepared a space to store German art work, while helping people escape to Switzerland. Agreeing to store Otto's paintings was a brilliant move on my part. The General and Wolfie let me move freely and without surveillance. Even the Gestapo was pulled off. The General let the local Gestapo leader "discover" I was working for him and high ranking officials of the Reich. The fool got the impression I was smuggling valuable objects into the vaults of Switzerland, to serve as safety net should the officials need to flee. The General also launched a campaign to get his own troops into better shape. Drills and training sessions, as well as parades and reviews, became an almost daily feature of his troops' lives. Every soldier drilling wasn't watching the border. The German love of order was such that no one guessed the General's true objective. A week later, the General was called back to Berlin and two days later, a contingent of SS Troopers arrived. By then a good portion of the men of the town had vanished. Old men and cripples such as myself were there, as well as the non-believers. Some men felt their support for the traitors at Vichy would protect them against deportation. It didn't and I found myself hoping they would suffer the consequences of their foolish fantasies. The troopers tried to find out who was missing, but the records at the Gendarmerie were in a horrible state. The man in charge of them, who had also been the radio officer, had died in a freak fire. He had put gasoline instead of kerosene into a space heater and had been blown up. All the records were either burned or water soaked in the disaster. I had new respect for the Prefect of Police. Ruthlessness is a virtue in wartime. At the end of the week the older students of the Sacre Coeur College were paraded into town by Father DeMoulin to volunteer for work in Germany. The good father had coerced them of course. My aunt was in daily communication with several of the Nuns who were their teachers and knew all about it. There was a bus in front of the Hotel de Ville and about a dozen troopers. Most of the troopers had been sent off to the next town, since there had been so few suitable males here. The head of the Gestapo was to welcome the students to the service of the Reich in their anti-Communist crusade. There was a considerable crowd gathered. Most were dumfounded by the treachery and ignorance of Father DeMoulin. Most of the boys were between 16 and 18 and were orphans or the sons of parents who had disappeared or been lost in the Fall of France. The crowd was sullen. I was watching with helpless horror from the window of my office facing the square. Father DeMoulin was well known for his pedantic nature and the length of his sermons. He gave a speech that went on for a half hour. By that time the crowd grew considerably and I could feel the tension in the air. DeMoulin finished and the Gestapo Officer rose to speak. As he did, a strong but very out of tune voice in the crowd began to sing the Marseillaise. It took me a second, but I realized it was my Aunt. The troopers immediately raced to find the voice. Several others in the crowd joined in. "Escape my Boys! Run to safety!" someone screamed. From my vantage point I could see it was one of the nuns. There was pandemonium. Rocks and vegetables were thrown. The crowd surged forward and obstructed the troopers trying to find my Aunt. The boys in the center of the square vanished into the crowd. I rushed downstairs to get my Aunt, but encountered six boys trying to escape. I took them to a secret compartment. Emile was there, having delivered several Jewish intellectuals the day before. He took the boys under his wing and spirited them off to safety. I heard gunshots. Wolfie appeared with a platoon of heavily armed men. He rounded up the troopers and the Gestapo agent and was giving them a dressing down as only an aristocratic Prussian officer could do. "You are idiots! Fools! A disgrace to Germany and the Third Reich! You parade into the middle of town and you cause a riot! Then you let them all escape! I will report your gross malfeasance to the highest authorities!" screamed Wolfie. He was beating them with his riding crop, ranting, insulting and incidentally letting the boys escape. He must have gone on for ten minutes. I hadn't guessed Wolfie was a good actor. He was completely believable as an officer enraged at the conduct of his troops. I could hear him screaming in the background as I searched for my Aunt. The square was a mess with rocks and debris everywhere. Most had left. There was no sign of my Aunt. I assumed she had escaped. A nun peaked out from a shuttered butcher's shop. "She's here!" she whispered. Inside, my aunt was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with massive bleeding from her head. She had been struck by a rife butt. "I think her skull is crushed." the butcher, M. DeJardin, said. "If only M. Dreyfus was here, there would be a chance." My Aunt's eyes opened. "That German officer told me they all got away." she whispered. "Is it true?" "Yes. They all escaped." I said. She smiled, closed her eyes and died. Mme DeJardin raced down the stairs from their apartment above with towels and bandages. It was too late. We all stood in silence as the nun, Sister Helenne, said prayers. "A true hero." the butcher's daughter said. "She was like Joan of Arc". "Thank God that Boche Officer was so stupid. If he hadn't stopped the troopers, they'd have rounded them up again." the butcher said. "It was a miracle." A Gendarme appeared with a doctor. A minute later the Prefect arrived. He took one look at her. "She died instantly?" he asked. "No, she lived until I told her the boys had escaped." I said. "That is why she is smiling?" the Prefect asked. I looked at her. Mme DeJardin had washed her face. There was a look of almost serene satisfaction on it and a hint of a smile. "Yes, M. Le Prefect." "A brave woman." he said. "We can have no public funeral, no mention in the papers. The Germans are so embarrassed they would rather not let word of this event get out. If we keep everything quiet, there is a chance the boys will make it to Switzerland. That is agreeable?" I agreed. "She deserves a hero's funeral!" Mme DeJardin objected. "It is more important to save the living, than to bury the dead." I said. We buried her in an unmarked grave in the yard beside the Protestant church the next night. It was only me, the DeJardins, the Pastor and the grave diggers in attendance. After the funeral, I went to the mountains to find Emile and the boys. I got to the Blue Bear Cave and there was no sign of human activity there. Emile was a master of disguise. He told me the set designers and had given him some good ideas about camouflage. I slipped into the cave and got to the inner compartment and still hadn't found anyone. I decided to look in the pool. Emile and two boys were soaking in the hot water. "Jean, it's good to see you? What happened in town?"Emile asked. I told him. "She was brave. She died well. What more can you ask for in these times?" he said. "Where are the rest of the boys?" I asked. "In Switzerland." he said. "Very easy passage. The Swiss are a lot better about Gentiles than they are about Jews. We picked up six more as we left town, so we saved a total of 12. 14 if you count the boys I kept for myself. Meet Georges and Jules." They stood and shook hands. They were naked and half erect. This didn't bother either of them. George was thin, dark and tall with a long cock and the beginnings of a hairy chest. Jules was shorter, heavier but muscular with a down of hair thickening at his chest. Muscles were beginning to dominate the baby fat. His cock and balls were compact and held tight to his body. He would have a wrestler's body when he was fully grown. Jules was Alsatian and spoke fluent French and German. George may well have come from the South, perhaps Provence. They seemed pleasant and very happy. I stripped and joined them in the pool. They both seemed to admire my cock. "The boys and I discovered a common interest. The good Father was sending them off to Germany because they were orphans and were caught experimenting sexually. When we got all of the boys over the border, they wanted to come back with me. The Father liked to humiliate them by telling all of the other students what they had done. I agreed to bring them back." Emile said. "We discovered we shared the same interests and have been exploring them." "That is fine, but this isn't a hotel. We'll need to find a permanent place for them." I said. George was playing with my cock. Something about the way he did it made me think that their experimentation had been extensive and successful. "You are wrong. This is a hotel. We have people here all the time. It would be good to have someone here keeping it nice and prepared." Emile said. "Jules is familiar with this sort of area and Georges worked for his parents in a small hotel in Nice. They are hard working and sensible boys." I was afraid Emile was infatuated with the young men. That might have been true, but he was a good judge of character too. The boys became invaluable as they maintained the cave. The school had been prison like and they had been abused for their sexual preferences. Emile and the cave represented liberation for them. All their sexual activity had been with each other and they weren't experienced. Emile was nothing if not experienced and liked to teach. They were willing students. In the three days they had been together, Emile had introduced them to the joys of oral and anal sex. As far as I could tell, they took to man sex as a duck to water. They weren't at all like Willie, Otto's flunky. They were sex partners, not sex toys. An hour after we met, I was sucking Jules and Georges worked his cock into my ass. I would have complained, if it hadn't felt so good.