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