Date: Tue, 14 Dec 2004 21:03:28 -0500
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: CASTLE MARGARETHEN - 7

CASTLE MARGARETHEN - 7

Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com

However based on real events and places, "Castle Margarethen" is strictly
fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.  Most of the story takes place in Nazi
Germany during the year 1943. Further, the major characters are members of
the SS, most young, a few older. We explore their motivations and mixed
feelings as human beings for whom the Fuehrer's message was truth. At the
same time, however, your authors would make clear their condemnation of the
Nazi ideology and atrocities committed by the Schutzstaffel (the
SS). Indeed, we condemn ALL organizations, ideologies, and individuals who
do harm to humanity and restrict the growth of the human spirit.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between adult males and
male teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 7

(Revisiting Chapter 6)

On returning from the party, the evening ended...strangely.  They should
have been on high, but they just weren't.  It was as if all of the tension
that had built up over the last few days suddenly weighed heavily on each
and every member of the company...and at the same time.  (Almost everyone
commented upon it the next day.)  The result was a pervasive sense of
emotional exhaustion, much the same as had gripped Eugen that afternoon.
They fulfilled their bedtime sex obligation. There was scarcely a lad,
however, for whom this was enough to relieve the great tension that had
built up in their bodies and minds.  Not even Jens was satisfied!  The
schedule...the relative isolation in the castle...the sexual demands...the
troubles between Squads 2 and 4...the no rules fight...the film and the
emotional singing of the "Horst Wessel Lied"...even the wild party...  The
result of all this was entirely predictable.  Almost every member of the
company ended the day by wildly beating off.  With the giant explosions of
cum that drained their balls and their demons, the worst of the tension
passed.  The young men were again ready to proceed towards mastering their
new assignment.

(Continuing Our Story: A Change of Pace)

     Physical Conditioning

Knowing what was coming, Sergeant Krupke's class the next morning was
devoted to a long series of flexibility and stretching exercises.  For
example, he would bark something like, "Heads up.  Listen and follow!
Place one leg forward, while your knee of the other leg is resting on the
floor.  Good!  Now, without changing the position of the knee on the floor
or the forward leg, lower the front of your hip downward. Hold for 30
seconds!"  (Pause) "Good!"  Unlike the other exercises in which they had
been engaging, most of these new exercises were pretty simple...in and of
themselves.  (Oh, there were exceptions such as the "High Kicks" and the
"Mule Kicks," but there weren't many of those.)  The real problem was that
they just went on forever!  The good Sergeant had stretching and
flexibility exercises for the lower limbs, the shoulders, the torso, the
lower back...even for the wrists and forearms!  Moreover, each soldier was
to permanently incorporate at least three or four of these exercises into
his daily exercise regimen.  You will guess that by the time the squad
struggled towards the showers, every man was feeling like something between
a rubber band and a limp noodle!

     Sex Instruction

Sergeant Burmann grinned at Piet as Second Squad marched smartly into his
classroom.  "How did that butt plug work?" he asked the Big Dutchman.
"Great, Sergeant!  It really helped open me up.  Can I get a #3 later in
the day?  "Yes...same time, same place," Berman retorted.  "Ok, men, move
it!  Be seated!  We've only got a half hour before something very different
happens!"  The boys noted that six tables had now appeared in the room -
and wondered what was up.

"Your first major examination takes place the day after tomorrow.  Do I
need to tell you to appear with your body absolutely clean and hairless and
your hair shampooed?  That also means clipping and cleaning your nails and
taking a full enema that morning.  Questions?" the Sergeant asked.  Hearing
none, he continued.

"Ok, today's work is a little gut check.  Thus far, you've been working
with squad mates and a few other friends.  Generally speaking, they've
respected the troubles you've been having adjusting to having sex with
males...because they've been having the same damned problems.  Over the
next hour and a half, however, the situation is going to be a lot more like
the conditions you will encounter in the field.  Men are going to come to
this room in three groups.  You may not know many of them personally.  In
any case, they've been ordered to act as if they don't know you.  In
half-hour segments, one man from each group is going to come over to your
table and tell you what he wants.  Remembering everything you've learned in
this class, you will give it to him.  You've got about five minutes.  Get
yourself lubed up...just in case.

Promptly at 1030 hours (10:30 am), Leif, the big, tough-as-nails leader of
First Squad pounded on the classroom door and entered with his troops.
Laughing and cracking some raw jokes about homos, they walked over to the
tables as Sergeant Burmann watched.  "Here's a pretty boy," he chortled, as
he stood beside the table on which Eugen was sitting.  Grabbing his
genitals, he sneered, "Not bad...  Turn over, queer, spread your legs, and
get your ass up into the air!"  Eugen scrambled quickly to do as he had
been told.  Leif jumped up on the table and simply TOOK him.  There was no
opening him up, no lubing him, no varying his strokes, or reaching
underneath to fondle his genitals.  There wasn't word one about how he was
doing.  He just slapped him hard on the butt and his back a few times...and
RAPED him.  When he came, he simply wiped his cock off on Eugen's butt,
jumped down off the table, and walked over to Sergeant Burmann as he had
been commanded.  (Burmann quietly asked him if rape were the best approach
to continuing a program designed to give men a little physical relief in
the field.  Leif flushed and went over to sit on a chair by the door.)  As
each of the other five men finished, he had a few words with Burmann.)  As
they departed, he growled, "Eugen, Nils, and Klaus!  Did you check your men
to see if they had any visible signs of sexual disease?  And Piet - if
looks could kill, your man would have been stone dead!  Didn't you learn
anything about making it look like the greatest thing that had ever
happened to you?  All of you, get yourselves together!  You'll have another
customer in...four minutes!"  The boys scrambled to lube themselves
heavily, to use some of the stretching exercises Sergeant Krupke had shown
them - and to get over the shock.  It wasn't easy.  Eugen's body was
already sore.  Worse, he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

Just as the hands on the clock on the classroom wall clicked to 1100 hours
straight up, the second knock sounded and the door opened to admit Third
Squad.  They were quieter, but just as direct.  Maximilian, a fellow
German, stopped by Eugen's table and grinned.  "Thanks for helping us out,
buddy.  We've been on the line for 16 hours.  Suck me off.  No, not up
there!  Get down on the floor and take it."  After checking him for
anything that might have signaled disease, Eugen grinned back at him and
prepared to give him one hell of a super blow job.  Quickly, he began
tonguing the seam and was just moving onto the frenulum, when Max started
pushing into his mouth.  "Sorry, man, but I've only got a few minutes and I
need it...bad!"  With that, Max began vigorously fucking his long, thick
cock into Eugen's mouth.  Scarcely able to breathe, he tried to deep throat
the soldier, but he forgot to breathe through his nose and was fast running
out of air.  Fortunately, Max promptly exploded in his mouth, withdrawing
his cum- slicked cock only to wipe it off on Eugen's face.  (Burmann only
nodded at him and sent him to a chair.)  Still kneeling, hardly able to
move, Eugen's head slowly slipped down onto the floor.  After pointing out
a few errors to most of the men, Burmann turned to the company, his hand on
his hips.  "Now you know why it is very dangerous in any man's army to
volunteer for ANYTHING!  Maybe you BOYS (the word spilled out of the
Sergeant's mouth with unmistakable sarcasm) need to give up and go home."
If you don't, you have another customer in...five minutes!  That, of
course, was all that was needed to bring the men of Second Squad to their
feet, their faces flushed with determination, their hands hurrying to
prepare for the next crew.  During the process, Piet walked quietly over to
Eugen, helped him to his feet, and learned him up against the table while
he thoroughly lubed him.  With a pat on the rump and a muttered word or
two, he helped him back up on the bed, and walked away without a glance at
anyone.  Had he looked at the Sergeant, he would have seen approval and
confidence.

As Fourth Squad entered, Eugen had a vain hope that he might get little
Peder or even Joost.  He also knew they were under orders and that wasn't
likely to happen.  It didn't.  "Corporal, thanks for helping us out," a
deep voice sounded off in the distance.  'Oh, God!  Mikkel.' Eugen thought.
"With all the shelling and everything, I haven't been able to get much
sleep.  I just keep thinking of my girl.  I need her...real bad.  Could you
help?" the voice continued.  "Sure thing, soldier," Eugen replied in a
voice that he scarcely recognized as his own.  Eugen lay on his back and
reached out his arms for the big Norwegian.  Saying that this was the way
his girl welcomed him to her bed, he reached down, kissed Eugen, and
caressed his face.  "I'm grateful, Corporal," he mumbled.  Noticing that
Eugen's cock was still limp, he scrunched his big body down on the bed and
tongued him until it began to show some life.  With only a few minutes
left, he heavily lubricated his humongous cock, placed it at the portal,
and worked his way in.  His eyes bulging, Eugen gasped at the size of the
monster that was entering him.  He also knew instinctively that Mikkel was
making every effort to avoid giving unnecessary pain.  When he came, Eugen
did also...for the first time that day.  "Thanks, Mikkel, for everything,"
he murmured as the Big Norwegian got up.  "That's ok...friend," Mikkel
rasped as he moved away.

"Ok, men," their Sergeant Instructor growled as he dumped a small pile of
hot, wet cloths on the front table.  "Help each other to clean up and
sharpen up.  You've only got a few minutes until lunch.  Squeezing the back
of Piet's neck as he passed, he stood next to his still groggy Squad
Leader.  Taking a large towel, he quickly cleaned the cum, lube, and sweat
off his body, helped him to put his shorts back on, and ran his own comb
through the youngster's hair.  Leaning down, he whispered into his ear:
"Corporal, I need you.  You WILL stand - and you WILL march proudly into
that goddamned dining room.  DO YOU HEAR ME, SOLDIER?"  "Yes, Sergeant, I
hear you, and I won't let you down," Eugen mumbled as he worked his feet
down onto the floor.
 Sergeant Instructor Burmann watched the last of Second Squad march
off...in good order.  "God, watch over those kids, and keep them from being
used this way," he murmured softly.

     Lunch and Officers' Training

Lunch was eaten in something of a fog, but Eugen did remember seeing Boris
for the first time that day and joking with him.  It seems that Boris had
undergone both his dental and his nose surgery that morning.  (Doctors'
time during 1943 was at a premium.  Unless totally contraindicated
medically, multiple medical procedures tended to be performed in the same
facility and as close together in time as possible.)  Where there weren't
bandages and braces, his face was one vast panorama of dark black bruises.
"Boris, I'm a little out of it this noon, but did I get into the ring with
you again during the morning?" he whispered (loudly) out of the side of his
mouth.  "Nah," Boris rasped through the metalwork, "the damned sawbones and
the dentist teamed up and did what you could never do!"  "You're never
going to make it as 'Miss Bavaria of 1943'," Eugen warned.  "What's this I
hear, buddy, about the fact that YOU may?"  Boris retorted, never the best
at repartee even when unencumbered by grillwork.  By this time, of course,
the young men at both tables were snickering loudly, and had to be quieted
down by simultaneous glares from Sergeants Bayer and Burmann.

Not expecting much from their Officers' Training class, Second Squad was
pleasantly surprised.  While never the most lucid instructor in the
Program, Sergeant Warner did seem at least to have a theme today.  Namely,
while the enlisted men would often simply want to "get their rocks off,"
that which officers wanted could be a bit more complicated and needed to be
figured out before getting off on the wrong track.  Remembering their
encounters with "enlisted men" that morning, the Second Squad agreed that
their needs and approaches could be pretty "basic."  So what was different
about officers?

Warmer recommended that his charges try a little "role playing" to "tease
out" the conditions under which the officer would be most comfortable and,
hence, sexually aroused.  ("There was sure as hell no time to 'tease'
anything out of that bunch this morning!" Piet grunted to himself.)  "For
instance," Sergeant Warner continued, "some officers will warm up most
quickly to the 'complete soldier.'  Keep it formal, be impassive, let him
play you as if you were a 'toy soldier'.  Other officers will respond more
warmly to the 'pleasant young man', the type that they might find at a caf‚
in a university town.  After all," he added," other than in the Waffen-SS,
many of your highest officers are still aristocrats or, at least, highly
educated."  "What's wrong with the Waffen-SS officer, Herr
Oberscharfuehrer?" Klaus asked...a bit belligerently.  "Absolutely
nothing," Sergeant Warner backed off quickly.  "It's just that
Reichsfuehrer-SS Himmler had a somewhat different personality type in
mind."  (While he hadn't said much of substance, it seemed to satisfy the
Hitler Youth.)  "Then, too, some officers are looking for an 'eager young
lover'.  Show them a little interest...a little promise...and they become
active quickly.  "Finally," he said, warming to his theme, "you might
explore the role of "the kid," either the street punk or the lad who is
simply 'young and lost'.  They turn on many a man, straight as well as gay,
mature as well as older."

"You need practice!" he continued.  "I have been fortunate to secure three
guests who will work with us during the remainder of the period.  Achtung!"
As the young men of Second Squad snapped to attention and stiffly saluted,
three SS officers in full uniform marched to the front of the classroom, an
0bergruppenfuehrer (SS-General), a Hauptsturmfuehrer (SS-Captain), and an
Unterscharfuehrer (SS-Sergeant).  All three men were highly decorated.
Let's see how quickly you can engage the interest of the officer of your
choice.  I need a volunteer!"  All six men were immediately at attention
beside their chairs and saluting.  "Toomas, front and center!"  Toomas
approached the General and within minutes had him panting and pawing with
his brilliant portrayal of the "simply young and lost" youngster.  In turn,
Nils completely turned off the Captain with his "eager young lover
approach," but got a much firmer nibble when he turned into the "pleasant
young man."  Finally, somewhat surprisingly, Eugen walked up to the
Sergeant and immediately sparked his interest with the "complete soldier"
approach.

"Well, men, our time is about up.  May I introduce our guests.  The portly
General turned out to be one of the cooks who worked in the deep recesses
of the kitchen; the Captain, a Lieutenant in the Motor Pool; the Sergeant,
a Colonel who had been visiting Colonel Kreuze that day and graciously
stayed to help with instruction in the new program.  "You may not realize
it, men, but I have also tried to teach you something else today.  Would
anyone care to explain the second part of the lesson?  Eugen again stood at
attention and saluted.  On being recognized, he said, "Perhaps, Sergeant,
you were trying to tell us not to be blinded by the insignia, that
underneath the cloth and braid might lie some surprises.  Further, we would
do well to be respectful to everyone we meet in our new assignment,
for...you never know."  "Excellent, Corporal!  Dismissed!"  As the men
marched out and the other "guests" had departed, the Colonel looked at
Sergeant Warner with an enigmatic expression.  "There is still time, Herr
Oberscharfuehrer, there is still time," he murmured.

     Taking Care of First Squad

Now 1500 hours (3:00 pm), Second Squad had a half hour of their normally
free period before they had to go to the Sex Instruction classroom.  There
they would begin First Squad's introduction to the realities of their role
on the battlefield.  After joking for a few minutes about their last class
- and agreeing that it hadn't ALL been crap - they turned their attention
to their forthcoming meeting with the men who had savaged them earlier that
morning.  "All I want to do is get my hands on that bastard Leif," Piet
snarled.  "That can't be the game...not as long as we're soldiers, buddy,"
Eugen observed.  "Rache [revenge] just doesn't cut it.  Look at what's
going on here.  The officers are trying to teach us that our role will
often be to roll over and take it from long lines of men craving a little
relief.  (Sure, there'll be an occasional few minutes with a person who is
relatively human, but that will be the exception.)  This part of the
Program is trying to build up some psychological endurance, heighten our
determination to honor our oath.  What part does revenge play in teaching
these qualities?  None.  Worse, it distracts our minds from the lessons
we're supposed to be learning.  My suggestion is that we give our boys more
than they ever bargained for.  If they ask for X, we give them X...times
10.  We use EVERY MINUTE of our 20 minutes or so with them.  WE NEVER LET
UP.  We tire them out, burn them out, exhaust them - but we do it as
soldiers...with honor!  DON'T GIVE THEM SOMETHING ELSE TO THINK ABOUT -
like we're bastards or queers or whatever.  JUST MAKE THEM KNOW THEY'RE
TIRED...SO DAMNED TIRED!  Is that revenge enough for you, Piet?"  Piet just
grinned wickedly and said, "Let's get downstairs!"

Poor First Squad...  The interaction between Klaus and a young Hollander,
Arne, will give as clear an example of what happened as is possible.  Klaus
went over to him and gave him a long song and dance about being on the line
for two weeks, about being with a guy who simply refused to give his buddy
any help (and claimed that "self-abuse" was immoral), and about how he was
finally forced to fuck a Russian corpse.  Thanking Arne profusely for
"being there for him," he asked hesitantly if he might blow him.  Exhaling
with relief (for he had expected and feared worse), Arne said, "Sure."  Big
mistake...  Klaus never performed more...professionally.  His fingers
stroked and tickled inexperienced Arne's young body until he was writhing
with passion - even though the overture was still being played!  All the
surrounding territory was given a temperature-rising lick-down.  As the
young Hollander began to pant, Klaus moved to his nice set of cock and
balls.  Klaus tongued and sucked those balls until they were shiny - every
vein outlined, redder than the scrotum that held them.  The boy from Arnhem
was ready to blow sky-high - until Klaus cupped his balls and firmly pulled
them down and away from his body.  Grinning innocently at the shocked
Dutchman, Klaus murmured, "When you finally cum, believe that you'll
remember it!"  The dance began anew.  Klaus played with his cock with the
very tips of his fingers until Arne thought he would go mad.  When he
finally reached down and licked his frenulum, the youngster again began to
go rigid.  Unfortunately, the smiling young Hitler Youth sharply squeezed
his rock-hard penis just below the bright purple glans.  "OW!" the
youngster screeched in Dutch [That's "OW!" in English.] and looked
accusingly at Klaus.  "Makes it even better when you finally cum," Klaus
repeated with a "best buddy's" grin.  You will guess that this went on for
the next 15 minutes, for Klaus seemed to have a zillion ways to cut poor
Arne off at the pass.  As Klaus saw Sergeant Wagner go for his whistle, he
let the poor little beast blow.  Believe that Old Faithful had nothing on
that young Hollander!  Klaus chortled that he would be 15 minutes
recovering and, then, someone from the Third Squad would be working him!
After Klaus and his squad mates exited the room in proper military style,
they stopped dead in their tracks and absolutely mobbed the young German.
His exhibition had been far too much of a classic to miss!  (Squad 3 that
was waiting to enter wondered what in hell was going on.)  Sitting on
Piet's shoulders, Klaus shouted, "YOU ARE REVENGED, EUGEN!"  That didn't
explain a thing to Squad 3, but Second Squad chanted it all the way up the
stairs!  *** *** *** As the boys of Second Squad simply lazed in their room
before the supper bell (for no one was in the mood for more sex...at least
right then!), Colonel Kreuze sat in his office reading a message that he
had just decoded.  His informant in Berlin had notified him of two (not
necessarily related) developments.  First, the two lads who had rescinded
volunteering for the Program had never made it back to the city.  Rather,
their remains had been found recently in a burned-out car, each with a
bullet hole in the back of his head.  This information had been
accidentally released to one of the parents by a Police clerk.  Secondly,
signs of some kind of disturbance had been noticed in both Himmler's
offices and Hitler's office in the Reich Chancellery.  His informant
promised to keep his eyes and ears open.

     The Evening

For the first time in some days, the evening at Schloss Margarethen was
relatively uneventful.  Naturally, Second Squad delighted in refining their
new and universally accepted approach to that which had come to be known as
the "Reality Check."  What could they do to make it even more effective
with Squads 3 and 4 tomorrow?  It was a most "creative" discussion!  One
might guess that their new friends in Fourth Squad were very curious and
made every effort to penetrate the shroud of secrecy that had been drawn
over plans for them!  Alas, no informer stepped forward.

Piet had secured a #3 butt plug from Sergeant Burmann after supper and,
frankly was having some problems with it.  Burmann had earlier suggested
that butt plugs sometimes cause additional hard-ons, but the #2 version had
presented few difficulties.  The #3, however, was something else again.
Simply put, Piet inserted it...and Piet developed an instant hard-on.  He
had twice had Klaus, his bedmate, help him take it out, lubricate it (and
him) and reinsert it.  As discussion of their "secret plans" faded, the
other squad members became increasingly interested in Piet's dilemma and
offered all sorts of suggestions.  Nothing helped.  Piet had begun
wondering how he could move about the building preceded by a quite
impressive rod of steel.  Knowing young men of this age, you will guess
that the comments became increasingly bawdy.  The Dutchman only hoped that
others would not hear of his troubles.

Technically speaking, the only other event of note took place in the early
hours of the next day, 0210 hours (2:10 am) to be exact.  Unable to sleep
for two nights, Jens had gotten up and padded out into the corridors.
Before he was really aware of where he was going, he found himself in the
staff corridor.  In fact, he found himself in front of Sergeant Burmann's
door!  Even days later, he could not explain - to himself, let alone to his
Sergeant - why he had twisted the knob to an unlocked door and walked in.
As the lights suddenly came on, Jens found himself on the business end of a
black, very large Luger.

"Jens, what in hell are you doing here...and at this hour?"  "I...I...I
don't know, Sergeant," the terrified, half-awake boy answered.  His body
shaking violently, he stumbled over to a nearby coat stand, almost falling
in the process.  "I think I'm sick.  May I lie down, please?"  Burmann, who
obviously slept in the nude, leapt out of his couch bed and made his way to
Jens' side.  Supporting the boy, he helped him over to the couch, smoothed
the covers back, and helped him lie down.  "Would you like something to
drink, Big Guy...some water, maybe something hot.  Nervously, he strode
over to a cabinet that doubled as a pantry and searched for some
aspirin...or something to eat - or, in truth, ANYTHING that would make
everything stop whirling and return to normal!  It didn't help his blood
pressure when he turned towards Jens and found him stretched out on his
side, looking straight at him.  The look in the young man's eyes was
feverish, but, clearly, it was NOT a fever fed by a standard virus!
Burmann swallowed convulsively.  The body - forged in the fires of
gymnastics - was magnificent.  Even lying down, his torso, his shoulders,
the glorious thighs...  And that burnished gold hair on top of a hairless
body that cast every muscle and vein into high relief!  Oh, God!  He was a
Technical Sergeant in the Waffen-SS!  He could look forward to a fine
career in a victorious and secure Third Reich.  If the war continued for
long - and Stalingrad and Kursk said it might - he might even earn a
battlefield commission!  As he took a step closer to the couch, he noticed
that tears were pouring from the lad's eyes. Scheisse!  He LIKED Jens.
Were the truth known, he liked him very much.  And he was so fuckin'
beautiful that he made his head swim.  He felt dizzy, and his stomach
seemed to be resting against his Adam's Apple.  "KARL," the boy cried out
piteously as he extended an arm towards him.  "KARL, PLEASE HELP ME!"  The
Sergeant was just about to say something very stupid (right out of the
Manual)...something like, "Mit uns ist es 'Jawohl'," ["Around here, we say,
"Yes, sir!"], but he caught himself.  'Sheer garbage,' he thought.  'It
doesn't even make sense!'

Slowly, as if a trance, Karl Burmann - a newly promoted Technical Sergeant
in the Waffen-SS, 24 years old and at the height of his physical glory -
walked over to the couch and sat down beside the youth.  "Karl, please
don't hate me."  "There's no way under the Hakenkreuzfahnen [Swastika
banners] (That sounded stupid to him, too!) that I could ever hate you,
Jens.  To the contrary."  As the boy rested a hand on his thigh - a hand
that felt like nothing other than a glob of molten steel - he fearfully
murmured, "Is there any chance that you have some of the same feelings for
me that I have for you?  I love you, you know?"  "Yes, I know," Burmann
replied.

Doing something for himself for one of the first times in his life -
casting the "whole," the "group" into a psychological garbage can - Karl
Burmann reached over and took the unbelievably beautiful young man into his
arms.  Flesh on flesh...lips on lips...heat on heat...love on love...  Jens
ran his fingers through the light, strawberry-blond hair that dusted the
Sergeant's arms and heavy, muscular chest.  You're beautiful, you know.
You're so beautiful!"  "Strange," the Sergeant responded, "I was just
thinking the same thing about you.  Kiss me again, you crazy Dane!"

Both young men suddenly realized that they were as hard as steel and ready
to spring to their feet and start hopping around the room.  "You know,
Jens, I have always been known as a 'thinking man' - and I've been
preaching to you guys forever about 'warming a guy up' and 'preparation'
and 'relaxation'. But I've got to tell you that I want you...NOW!  Jens
giggled hysterically and replied, "Well, Sergeant, you named the 'When';
now all you have to do is name the 'Where'."  "You asked for it!" Burmann
growled.  "Lock your legs around my waist and hold on!"  With that he
carried Jens over to an overstuffed chair - the only chair - in the room.
(Holy shit!  He was as heavy as lead!  Solid muscle...)  Sitting down, he
looked at a golden- haired boy whose grin seemed so wide that his face
risked shattering into a million pieces - and, thus, ending one hell of a
dream...if all this WAS a dream.  "This ought to be duck soup for a
gymnast!" he burbled.  "Oh, shit, you've got to get up and get that
lubricant in the cabinet."  "Forget the lubricant, Sergeant." Jens growled.
"Just fuck me!"  Karl Burmann insisted on a little (actually, a lot of)
saliva, but he wasn't about to wait any longer than it took to apply it.
"Ok, lift that hunky body up into the air and come down onto papa! " And so
began a dance of love that lasted two lifetimes.

(Notes from the Next Day)

The second day of the "Reality Check" went much the same as the first.
Yes, Third and Fourth Squads wondered what had hit them after their
half-hour with Eugen and his boys, but there are limits to repetition even
when many funny (and, sometimes, touching) incidents are omitted.

There was, however, something that happened in their Sex Instruction class
that bears mentioning.  As expected, Sergeant Instructor Burmann was
preparing his men for tomorrow's first major test, a test that would demand
they have sex with - and, perhaps, even make love to - an older man, a man
who was often an officer.  We listen to his comments from the point that he
introduces the subject:

"Before we get into something more difficult, I have another question for
you."  (Groans, most half in jest, filled the air.  Burmann knew that he
was allowing a degree of informality on the outer edge of what was possible
for an SS Non-Com, but he plowed on.  Besides, he was still a little dazed
from last night!)  'You have just learned that a beloved uncle is dying of
an inoperable tumor in his brain.  This man was as important to your
growing up and becoming a respected member of the Waffen-SS as your
parents...as anyone.  You love him and respect him beyond anything that
words can convey.  You come into his hospital room where he lies dying.
Question: What would you do?"  There were several suggestions, a common one
being that the young man would show him how much he loved him and try to
make his life easier.  "Question: Would it matter if his illness had made
him fat?"  No...of course not!  "Question: Would it matter if one side of
his face was sagging due to the tumor?"  No...of course not!  "Question:
Ok, men, think on this.  What if your Uncle were your COUNTRY?  Would his
appearance put you off - or would you still HAVE to show your love for
everything it has done to make you the upstanding young men you are?  Would
you, no matter what, try to make its life a little easier?  I don't want an
answer to that question right now.  It's called a 'question for thought.'
Just know that by tomorrow morning, you must have answered that question
for yourself.  Dismissed!"


(To Be Continued)