Date: Sun, 8 Aug 2004 00:56:39 +0100 (BST)
From: Peter Wilson <henleypark70@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: My Darling Grandpa 3

This story is true. The boy concerned told it to me some years ago. The boy
is still alive at 69 and lives a comfortable and happy life with his wife,
children, grand children and one great-grand child.

To allay the fears of the manic agents against child molestation, he
savours his boyhood experiences with great delight and relish. He told me
this story after reading of the vehement and volatile campaign by the few
maniacs in western society who use the media sensationalism to voice their
biased and out of touch concerns about child molestation.

If you are a right thinking and humble person then read this story about
real life and send me your opinions.


Lawrence and his mum were also on the bus, but they were not going to the
hospital like we were. They were going to visit some relatives in the small
town about five miles from where the hospital was built.

Lawrence pleaded with his mother to be allowed to go with us and visit the
young airman, but she would have none of his fraternising with the enemy.
She couldn't understand why grandpa and I were so interested in the boy, as
he had probably killed many hundreds of innocent women and children in
bombing raids on London. She was scathing about the hospital even wasting
precious time and medicines on a German.

Grandpa simply told her that he was no longer our enemy, and that he was
very badly burnt and both his legs were broken. He emphasised that we
should all show kindness to those who were injured, and that soon the war
would be over and we would all be friends again.

The woman looked at grandpa with sharp, bitter eyes. Then she mumbled
something about 'bloody french". I looked at grandpa, but all he did was
squeeze my hand and gave me a nice smile.

When we alighted from the bus, he took my little seven year old hand and as
we approached the gates of the hospital he told me that I should never be
bitter about other people, no matter how hurtful they would be to me. I
should never raise my voice in anger about another person's opinion, as
everyone had the right to think the way they did.

I looked at grandpa and squeezed his hand.

The young German was so pleased to see us. His smile as we came into his
small room was so beautiful. His blonde hair had been singed from the
burning aeroplane, but it was now growing back. The cream that had been
applied to his burns was assisting in the healing, although in places the
burn scar was starting to crack and go very dark. I rubbed some cream on
these scars and he was so happy I did that.

Grandpa put his hand under the sheet and soon I could tell that his cock
was very stiff. He lifted to sheet to show me, and I was really surprised
as it was very long and much bigger than even grandpa's. Of course he had a
long foreskin as well, which grandpa dragged back and forth over his very
large knob. He had a small blonde patch of pubic hair just above his
cock. His very large balls hung well down and were completely hairless,
like mine.

Grandpa drew the curtains and I went outside to stand guard. My own little
cock was very stiff and I really wanted to watch what grandpa did, but he
told me he was going to suck the boy's cock and swallowed all his sweet
semen. I had asked him what it tasted like so he said he would save some
for me.

I was day-dreaming when an old doctor came along the corridor and I almost
forgot to warn grandpa. I shouted out "where are you grandpa", and I heard
a shuffle behind the curtain as grandpa came out just as the doctor
entered.

He went to the bedside and we could see that he was examining the boy, very
carefully.

We could hear the doctor talking to the airman but didn't understand as it
wasn't very clear. A short time later he came out, drew the curtains back
around the bed and called grandpa over to his side as he walked into the
corridor. After they finished talking he wrote some notes on a paper on a
wooden clipboard on the end of the boy's bed. Then he again said something
to grandpa and walked down the corridor, telling a nurse who was coming
towards us he wanted to see her.

Grandpa again went behind the curtains and I heard his lips sucking and
then the German let out a big deep throated sound and I saw the bed
shake. Grandpa motioned me inside and then kissed me pushing some of the
boys semen into my open mouth. It tasted a lot like Lawrence's, which I
whispered to grandpa after I had swallowed.

Finally we found out that the boys name was Gunther, and he came from a
village near Dresden. Grandpa explained to me that they made really fine
delicate china in Dresden, and that it was a beautiful city. He and grandma
had visited there in 1912. We also found out that Gunther was still only 17
and that his birthday was just two weeks away on July 21.

As we were leaving the head nursing sister spoke to grandpa. She said that
there was a lot of opposition amongst the local people about the boy being
at the hospital. I heard grandpa tell her about the lady on the bus. She
asked grandpa if he and grandma would be interested in looking after the
boy for at least the next few weeks, until he could be transferred to a
hospital in the midlands.

Grandpa was delighted and said he could see no problem, other than he
feared even his local village people would re-act the same, if they
knew. He suggested that he be brought over in the doctor's car, late one
night, and that no one should be told about what was happening. It would be
best if everyone, including the nurses and hospital staff, were told that
the lad was going to the Midlands. The sister agreed.

Grandma was a little apprehensive about our new lodger, but I was very
happy and I suggested that he could have my bed, and I would sleep on the
floor. No, that wasn't necessary answered grandma. She would put my little
brothers cot into their room and we would make up another bed for me.

She also expressed her concern about my little brother telling people in
all innocence about our lodger, so we decided to concoct a story about he
being a London bomb victim, related to our family, if anyone asked. We also
decided that because his eyes had been burnt he had to stay in a dark room
and receive no visitors.

Two nights later we stayed awake until there was a soft tap at our back
door. The doctor was there with Gunther in his car. Grandpa and the doctor
carried him inside carefully, straight into my room. Then the doctor
brought in a large suitcase with lots of jars of cream, a bed pan and a
glass piss bottle, which I thought was wonderful. I could use it at night
instead of getting up in the cold.

The doctor also gave grandma an envelope with lots of extra ration coupons
and five pounds. He told us that we would receive five pounds every month
that Gunther was staying with us.

He thanked my grandparents warmly and said he would make periodic visits to
check on Gunther. He also told grandpa to keep up his own ministrations to
the lad, as he knew the lad was very happy that grandpa was aware of his
need.

I smiled at this as grandpa had told me on the way home from the hospital
the last time, what the doctor had said to him.

When he had come down to examine the lad he found his cock very stiff and
wet (from grandpa's saliva). He had an inkling of what had been going
on. The boy had confessed to the doctor that he was camp (queer) in his own
language, German. What we didn't find out until well after the war, was
that the doctor was also gay and had been assisting gay German men and boys
out of Germany since the year I was born, 1935. The doctor spoke fluent
German, but didn't dare let on to any one as secretly he was afraid that he
would be ostracised by the medical profession and the people of the main
town where he lived. Many English people thought anyone who had been to
Germany before the war and who spoke German could be a spy. I also found
out that he had an enormous collection of gay photos, which I discovered
after his death (That, is however, another story).

Gunther told us that just before the doctor brought him to our cottage, he
had sucked him off, and he was so very pleased that he knew his secret, as
if he went back to Germany, he would be shot, as Hitler had this manic
attitude to gay men.

I was really thrilled to have Gunther sleeping in my room, and I played
with his cock that very first night, before we both fell asleep.

Each day grandpa administered his healing mouth, and soon Gunther was
speaking very good English. Grandpa and I were developing a broadening
knowledge of German. I knew all the naughty words, and all the sex names,
so I was thrilled. My diet now consisted of a daily intake of Gunther
semen, mostly from grandpa's mouth, but sometimes I was able to drink from
the source.

On July 21, we had a wonderful birthday party for Gunther. The doctor came
along and gave Gunther some books in German. I made a necklace for him from
some glass beads grandma had, and my little brother made a wooden plane for
him from pegs, which grandpa carefully nailed together. The birthday cake
was small but full dried fruit and nuts that the doctor had obtained from
somewhere. He was even able to get some butter. Gunther was so happy he
cried, and I cried too.

Six weeks after the plane crash, the doctor came and carefully cut off the
plaster castes on each leg. Now we had to assist our young friend to
walk. His burnt skin was almost completely healed, except for a few small
patches, and his blonde hair now needed to be cut as he was starting look
like a beautiful blonde lass. I loved him, as did my grandparents. My
little brother also enjoyed being with Gunther.


If you like this true story tell me.

Email at: henleypark70@yahoo.co.uk