OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 12
Copyright 2004 by Carl Mason
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 author. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl5de@netscape.net.
This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between a young adult male and young male teenagers. Nevertheless, "Out of the Rubble" is neither a strictly "suck and fuck" exercise nor is it a story that focuses on the "love of adults for the young"...often without sex or with the mere suggestion of sex. If you are looking for these types of erotic fiction, there are fine examples of each on Nifty. Something slightly different is required here.
However based on real events and places, "Out of the Rubble" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Further, this 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!
PART 12
(Revisiting the End of Part 11)
September wasn't out before Andreas received another request for assistance. Nervously and rather shamefacedly, Rolf informed his best friend that he had arranged a photo shoot with the Baron. "I just had to do it myself, Andy; I just had to," he mumbled. He had also arranged in two days time to take one of the infrequent trains up to Frankfurt. Blushing, he asked if Andreas would prepare his body for the shoot, much as he had for the late-summer canoeing trip in southern Bavaria.
While full of questions, Andreas could only say, "Hey, Rolfie, you know that I'm your friend and that I will do anything to help you. You're a great guy! You're going to make it, you know!"
(Continuing Our Story : Searching for a Dream)
Not quite able to shake the feeling that he had let his best friend down...or had intruded on Andy's relationship with the Baron...or something, Rolf boarded the one-car train at Tieferwald. He really did feel better physically now that Andy had rid him of most of his fur. Maybe, he just ought to keep it off all the time! God, it was a long journey! Why did this train have to stop at every village, every mail and milk collection point on the Lower Main? It became even slower as they approached the Frankfurt area, for the train began switching back and forth on tracks that were only then finally recovering from the fierce bombing. Not much left of the skyline either...
At the Frankfurt station, Rolf was met by the Baron's liveried chauffeur and, in a long dark limousine, was quickly whisked to his country estate some distance from the City proper. The powerful industrialist and old soldier met him warmly on the steps of the mansion and, on retiring to the library for drinks, quickly put his mind at rest. No, his service in the SS was not disgraceful - whatever others thought. Rolf should be proud of having served his country, especially in a unit which had distinguished itself in battle. No, he was not transgressing on the relationship between the Baron and his best friend, Andreas. His friend was a superb model, but the Baron had invited Rolf to his home due to liking and respecting HIM. He had found something in him, beyond his own potential as a model, that was pure and good and worthy of cultivation. For the first time in weeks, Rolf smiled deep within himself and wondered if he would find what he was seeking. He only wished he knew what it was!
Following an opportunity to rest and clean up, he joined the Baron for the most delicious dinner that he had ever experienced. The Baron's chef, a true master of French cuisine, had created a work of art that the country boy, the SS jock from a little village near Tierferwald am Main, could scarcely believe. There were several toasts. Superb wines - several from the Baron's own estate - complemented each course. In truth, the young veteran was already feeling a little lightheaded when he followed the Baron into the library where a warm fire blazed in the great stone fireplace and brandy was offered.
Talk of war and honor inevitably turned to the future of their country. When Rolf asked him about the former leadership, the old soldier essentially parried his questions. Rather blandly, he asserted that leadership should always be exerted only by "the best people." He further noted that he had always opposed the emphasis in Nazi Germany on separating children from their families. (As a matter of fact, he suspected that a case in point sat immediately in front of him - that Rolf's young life, especially in the Hitler Jugend, had literally torn something out of his heart that he was now flailing about, trying to recover.)
Noting that the tipsy boy was sweating in the warm room, the Baron jokingly gave him permission to remove his coat. Rolf laughed and slightly slurred his answer. Politely, but firmly, the Baron insisted that he repeat what he had said. The youngster's face turned scarlet. "Soldier," the old Baron said, "your Commanding Offer has ordered you to answer. Kindly do so!" "Yes, sir," Rolf replied, "It was just a silly thought that crossed my mind." "Be specific, young man!" "Very well, sir. The stupid thought crossed my mind that I would be more comfortable if I removed ALL of my clothing. I deeply apologize for having embarrassed you, sir," the boy added lamely. Rolf, now wide awake, was no longer the slightest bit tipsy - even though he felt like sinking through the floor!
"It would take a great deal more than that to embarrass an old cavalry officer," the Baron growled. "Come over here - on the couch. After ordering him to take off his shoes and socks, he began gently to unbutton his shirt. He did not stop until he had pulled the boy's underwear shorts off his feet and tossed them onto the Persian rug.
"Come, be close," the old man softly commanded the lad who sat benumbed...absolutely paralyzed. Slowly - and very gently - he helped the boy to lie on his side facing him, his heavy torso resting in the Baron's lap, his waist and the remainder of his long body stretched out to the right. Despite his fear, Rolf began to relax and even smile tentatively as the Baron lightly stroked his smooth, pale skin - even when his fingers (seemingly by accident) softly brushed his swelling genitals. Finally, the old officer said, "Enough! Tomorrow will be a busy day. It's time for sleep!" Accepting one of the white crested robes from a servant who magically appeared, he tossed it around Rolf's shoulders and led him upstairs.
At the door to his bed chamber, he paused and reminded Rolf that a very nice bedroom had been made up for him - were that his pleasure. Gulping convulsively, knowing that he was burning his bridges behind him, the youth smiled shyly, blushed, and asked if it would be acceptable if he shared the Baron's room. "Acceptable? Yes, that would be most 'acceptable'," the Baron replied dryly and led Rolf into his bedroom.
Once in the room, the Baron gently tucked Rolf into bed and then retired to his adjoining dressing room. Soon he reappeared, dressed in one of his luxurious white bathrobes. Approaching the bed, he removed the robe and draped it over a nearby chair. Looking up, Rolf was amazed by the build and condition of a man who had to be approaching 60. He showed little body hair; his skin was firm and clear; he had only the slightest paunch. Seeing the boy looking at him, the Baron grinned proudly and suggested that he might enjoy the gym with him ere he returned home. Getting into bed and lying beside the boy, the Baron stroked his hair for a moment until Rolf turned towards him and asked, hesitatingly, "Would it be possible for me to enjoy a moment more of that wonderful massage, sir?"
"It is my pleasure, young Rolf. Turn over."
This time there was nothing light or gentle about the Baron's massage. Rather, he would seize a muscle - be it on the shoulder or a buttock - and probe deeply into it with his fingers until Rolf was ready to cry out. Then he would separate it from its fellows, knead it like dough, and gradually return it to place. "Turn over - NOW!" the Baron ordered - and, though his face burned, Rolf immediately followed orders. His rock-hard cock, copiously leaking precum, sprang into full view. Touching his finger to the sweet, flowing stream and lifting it to his lips, Rolf's masseur growled, "Patience, young soldier, there is time." Moving to the boy's neck, the violent attack continued unabated. Rolf's heavy thighs came under particularly intense assault. Finally, he returned to the teen's cock. Hesitating not a moment, he lowered his head until the glans touched the back of his mouth. Rather than stopping, he literally vacuumed the remainder of the boy's long rod into his throat. Twice his neck muscles tightened. Feeling the boy's heavy nutsack begin to rise and tighten, he stopped, commanding his subject to lift his legs high in the air and keep them up by clasping his arms underneath the knees. "Wider!" he commanded. Placing a pillow beneath the youngster's butt, he vigorously began licking Rolf's perineum and sucking on his anus. Holding his breath, his body tensed, Rolf was about to explode. The Baron suddenly halted action, removed the pillow, and commanded him to return his legs to the bed. With a grunt (and a sigh that suggested strong disappointment), Rolf hastily did as he was ordered. Without hesitation, the old veteran returned to the lad's cock, alternately sucking and licking his way to the helmet, vacuuming it into his throat, and massaging it with his throat muscles. Rolf screamed as his back savagely arched off the bed. Growing even larger and harder, the crimson staff pulsed and shot a mammoth load directly down into the Master's stomach.
As they lay side by side on the bed, Rolf shook himself into consciousness and turned to his mentor, babbling, "Sir, sir, that was...that was..." Quickly, the Baron whispered a firm "Shush!" and placed his mouth over the boy's. The tip of his tongue caressed Rolf's lips. Before departing, it slowly dug deeper, leaving a slight taste of cum behind. "It is time for sleep, young soldier!" With that, the Baron gathered his boy into his arms. Relaxed and smiling contentedly, they both quickly fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Promptly at 0600 hours (6:00 am), the Baron awakened the sleeping lad and told him to quickly visit the bathroom. Then they must breakfast and prepare for a long day. When Rolf reappeared and asked what to wear, the Baron said that he might simply don his bathrobe. Entering the breakfast room, they found the chef pouring dark coffee and placing smoked meat, eggs, and potatoes on their plates. The German youth looked questioningly at his mentor, who smiled and admitted that he had been "learning some bad habits from the Americans." Neither plate had a scrap of food on it when they were finished!
"Young Rolf," the Baron continued, "I can already see a shadow of dark hair on your face and at the bottom of your torso. We can wait until stubble appears and then use a razor - or, if you wish, we can attend to this problem in another way. Much depends on how you feel about your hair.
"Other than the hair on my head, mein Herr, I believe I am more comfortable without hair on my body," the boy allowed.
"Good!" his teacher exclaimed. "Then let me suggest an alternative. As you know from your last visit, my facility in Koblenz makes many fine products for my use and for eventual sale when markets are more stable. Right now, for instance, I have in my possession several vials of a unique depilatory that removes hair easily, comfortably...and permanently. Decide carefully, for its action is permanent. Would you be interested in using it?"
"Jawohl, mein Herr!"
"Very well. In that case, we can move to one of my work areas.
Once there, a lab technician rubbed a thick, perfumed cream onto Rolf's body from the eyes down and told the boy that he would remain standing for five minutes. As the boy stood silently, the Baron reentered the room and asked him if he were experiencing any discomfort. Assured that he wasn't, the Baron again left the room. At the close of the five minutes, the technician led Rolf to the showers where he was instructed to shower thoroughly with hot water and soap. He was to be especially careful to remove all of the cream, especially from his lower face, genitals, and crack. As Rolf was drying off, the Baron reappeared. "How do you feel, my boy?" "I feel GREAT, the happy youngster exclaimed as he snapped the towel around and stretched joyfully in every direction. My skin feels so different!" "Very good, young Rolf," the Baron responded as he took the towel and finished drying the boy. Stepping back, he examined the youngster approvingly. Not a trace of his beard or of any other hair on his body below the eyes remained. Indeed, his body glowed with youth...and with just a trace of sexual excitement. "Enough of that," the Baron chortled as he directed his charge to put his robe back on and follow him down into the dungeon. Rolf felt so energized that he almost danced his way down the flights of stone steps!
Entering the vast dungeon, Rolf immediately noticed a great wooden pillar that had been erected not far from the sacrificial altar. Again, a large frame, this time with stark black fabric stretched over it, stood behind the dark column. Even as they entered, they were joined by the Baron's two brawny assistants. Quickly, they chained the naked lad to the pole, his arms bound behind him. It all happened so fast that he didn't even realize that the photographer had also entered the room. Nor did he notice that the Baron had knelt in front of him. As the Baron began expertly to suck his phallus, the boy caught his breath and immediately hardened. When he approached orgasm, one of the hooded assistants smoothly replaced his Master. Within seconds, Rolf's eyes rolled back in their sockets, his chin lifted towards the ceiling, and his muscular body stiffened and convulsed. The photographer never ceased to click the shutter of his superb old Zeiss Ikon. "I envy you, Garth," the Baron said to his assistant as he rose from the floor, "but we must continue."
Various pictures were taken of Rolf in the "arms behind" position. His wrist cuffs snapped on tightly, his arms were then raised and chained to ring bolts set at the very top of the column. A second set of photographs was taken. For several of the shots, a leather-clad assistant simulated beating him with a whip. Cosmetics contributed to an effective illusion. As soon as ankle cuffs were added and the makeup removed, both the boy's wrists and ankles were lashed to a long, heavy pole. The resultant pictures seemed to suggest that a "trophy kill" was being carried out of the jungle by bearers, especially when dirt and "sweat" were added! Finally, all hardware and makeup removed, Rolf was fitted with heavy boots that had hooks on the rear at the ankles. When the young man was turned upside down and lifted by the Baron's assistants, the hooks were fastened securely to a beam. Then, not uncomfortably, he hung there, looking so much like a well-trimmed side of beef. A fourth and final set of photos was then taken from both front and rear. The Baron constantly checked as to whether his position was too uncomfortable, but was assured in each case that the youth was "doing fine."
On their way to lunch, the Baron showed Rolf two other basement rooms, a well-equipped exercise room and a room that looked like a small rectangular stadium. The floor was of wood, but one of the long sides of the room consisted of a section of stadium seats that begin about 8 feet (2.4 m) above the floor. A separate door gave access to the private seats. There also appeared to be movable shutters of dark glass that could close it off completely and/or give complete privacy to spectators. Several pieces of gymnastic equipment were scattered here and there about the floor. A pile of heavy mats was stored in one corner.
After showering, the Baron bade Rolf to remain naked in order that he might cool off thoroughly during lunch. And a delicious lunch it was! As a third serving of a magnificent pizza worthy of the best that Naples could offer was brought to the table for the young soldier, a servant discretely handed the older man a small case. Interrupting the steady round-trip movement of the boy's hand from plate to mouth, the Barron began, "My boy, I should like you to have a small gift that not only signifies my thanks to you for this morning's fine work, but also expresses my personal feelings for you. In all honesty, I thought you were a superior and exciting young man when I saw you with your friend. I now know that those intuitions were completely correct. You are coming to mean a great deal to me, Rolf. Please accept this chain with my gratitude." Resting his hand on a heavy, muscular forearm, the Baron handed him the gift.
In shock, the youngster paused, his fork between plate and mouth. Swallowing, he exclaimed, "Thank you, sir, the chain is...unbelievable. I love it!" Lowering his voice and attempting to look directly into the Baron's eyes, he added, "I think you already know how much I have enjoyed this visit. I came here discouraged, feeling that this might be my last chance for a decent life. I came here feeling that maybe some people were right when they said that the entire SS was criminal and should pay the price. Now, thanks to you, I am proud again to be a German. I feel respected...and deeply cared for." He paused for a long moment before adding shyly, "Can you possibly believe that a young SS-jock could love a great man...like you?"
"If you believe that an older man could love one younger as much he is loved, than I can believe. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, young Rolf." With that, the two men rose, embraced, and kissed deeply. Smiling, the Baron took the golden chain from youth's hands and placed it around his neck. "With my love," he said.
Regaining his poise - and his compelling "presence" - the Baron softly coughed and asked Rolf if that which he had heard was true. Namely, had the boy worked under the gymnastics master, Jules Lanier, when he was in HJ Special Programs? Rolf said that he had, but that it had been a long time ago. Did he still remember anything from that work, the Barron persisted.
"Well, I think I'd be pretty shaky on the rings or uneven parallel bars, but I could still do some freestyle stuff on the pommel horse or in floor exercises. I might even be able to do a halfway decent vault or two," Rolf answered with a wide grin.
"So... What I heard about your being one of the premier teenage gymnasts in all Germany was correct?" As Rolf blushed in deep embarrassment, Baron von Hofsberg continued, "As I did with Andreas, I am going to offer you a challenge. I occasionally invite several friends over to enjoy the work of a particularly outstanding individual. Would you be willing simply to work for a while on the stadium equipment with them watching? After the performance, you would join us for a short reception. If acceptable, I would add $100.00 to your posing fee."
"I don't want the money, sir. It's my chance to go to the Olympics that...would have been held in 1940. And, even more, it's for you!" There were tears in the boy's eyes as he mentioned the Olympics, tears that he had not been able to shed previously.
Tightly gripping the boy's forearm, the Baron said gruffly, "Very well, then. Be thinking of an informal routine. You are free until 1600 hours (4:00 pm) when my assistants will prepare your body for a 1700 hours performance. After the others have left, we shall enjoy a private dinner together. Until then, you are free to read or nap, or use the stadium. Thank you, my boy. I am anxious to see your work."
Already having an idea in his head for a short routine, Rolf took a nap that was much needed after his morning workout and the splendid lunch. He then worked out for a while in the stadium. At 1600 hours he was brought to a room where he received a professional massage with the finest of oils. Even though he was assured that it was completely acceptable...that the Baron had said the decision was his alone...he chose not to don clothing. "The Greeks," he said, "have shown us how it should be done." The masseur grinned in approval and clapped him on a heavy shoulder.
After a brief introduction by Baron von Hofsberg, Rolf entered the arena. Heavy mats had been placed on one part of the floor. Silently, he stood for a moment, his erect body gleaming and proud. When the Baron nodded, he suddenly launched at full speed into an amazing series of tumbling moves that brought the over 30 spectators to their feet, cheering and pounding on their seats. But he did so much more. For over 20 minutes, he explored - yes, played! - with gravity, testing his balance, strength, flexibility, and acrobatics. It was a unique performance that involved balance, flexibility, strength, rhythm, and the fluidity and presentation of creative movements. He opened his heart to the audience, and the audience fell hopelessly in love with him. The applause that greeted his final moves seemed to shake the room and to go on forever.
After a short pause, the pommel horse was first moved into the center of the arena and then, on Rolf's direction, moved slightly closer to the stands. Consummate showman that he was, he first simply sat on the horse, then lay down on his back whereupon he first raised one leg and then the other, then one arm followed by the other, allowing the spectators to enjoy the beauty of his body. Shaking his jet-black hair, he immediately straddled the horse, placing his arms behind his neck before twisting his body to the right and then to the left Hands on the horse, he exhibited his strength by raising his entire body back onto the horse without dismounting. Kneeling, he first pressed his forehead to the horse and then thrust his perfectly rounded buttocks high into the air. The crowd went mad! For his final move, he sat back on the horse. Extending his left arm behind him for balance, he used his right hand artistically to masturbate his thick, fully erect eight inches to an orgasm that spewed cum over the entire area around the horse...even to the wall below the stands. (Even the Baron shook his head at that one, not having been completely sure that the young lad such a display in him!) Again, the violent applause and cheering were such that one wondered if he would be able to continue.
After a second short pause during which he had insisted on (relative) silence, the Baron announced that Rolf would complete his program with just one vault, a specialty that he had developed when working with the famous Jules Lanier when in the Hitler Jugend. Seeing the Baron's signal, he literally exploded from the end of the runway, hitting the vaulting board at full speed. Launching himself toward the vaulting horse, he strongly pushed off with powerful hands as if he were doing a swan dive. At the apex of his "dive," showing incredible strength and agility, he tucked his legs under him, did a full somersault, and stuck a landing that surely would have won Olympic gold.
The stadium exploding with sound, Rolf stood beside the Baron, his muscles trembling, trying hard to catch his breath. Oil and all, the Baron gathered him into his arms. The exultant young lad lay his head on his mentor's chest and sobbed. Even 17 year old males are allowed so to behave under such circumstances!
Baron von Hofsberg slowly removed an object from a small case handed him by a servant. Holding it aloft, he said, "Gentlemen, this is a gold medal won in the 1936 Olympics by a young man who gave his life for Germany. Early this afternoon, his mother asked me to award it to Rolf if you deemed that he had won it fairly and squarely. I ask you: Do we award the gold medal, Ja oder Nein [yes or no]?" In the face of thunderous applause, the Baron proudly hung the medallion around the boy's neck and kissed him on the cheek. Need it be added that the glorious old Zeiss Ikon had caught every scene from the evening.
The Baron's guest went berserk. Rushing out of the spectator stands through the narrow private exit, they swept down the stairs and poured onto the floor of the arena. Completely hysterical, they crowded around the exhausted, sweating youngster, hands freely caressing his body. (In his fatigue - and naivete - Rolf thought it was all part of the game and gave it little heed.) The Baron, however, was NOT pleased. He was even LESS pleased by the fact that several glasses of liquor were pressed upon the teen. Under the combined pressure of fatigue, alcohol, the heat in the room, and the constant handling of his body, the boy's legs began to turn to jelly. He was already slipping to the floor when the Baron caught him and ordered a servant to carry him to his bedchamber.
The lad slowly came to as the Baron was gently toweling him off and kissing his forehead. Seeing Rolf's eyes flutter open, he murmured, "Lie and sleep, Juengling [young lad], my brave German soldier, my love. Tomorrow is time enough for us to talk."
Long conversations, visits to a private Frankfurt grammar school where older lads (many of whom had been in the SS) were instructed apart from younger children, appointments with the Baron's tailor and, yes, some wondrous sex led to the Baron's telephoning Sam and motoring down to Tieferwald.
"I have asked Rolf to become my son, my beloved son, and he has accepted. I have promised him the finest education and an appropriate start in life if he grasps the opportunities offered him. I deeply respect all that you have provided him. Naturally, he is completely free to come and go as he pleases. Even so, he asked me to meet with you today and lay my assurances before you. Have you any objection to his moving to Frankfurt?" he asked Sam. Awaiting his answer, Ehrhardt and Andreas had joined "the boss."
Inasmuch as the intelligent, ever-perceptive Ehrhardt had helped explain what was going on inside Rolf to Sam and Andreas, Sam was quick to answer that he had no objection. "You are known and respected throughout Germany, Herr Baron," Sam stated. "The three of us - his house director, his war-time buddy, and his best friend - love him and look forward to his returning to Tieferwald for visits. Please convey that to him." Needless to say, the Baron agreed without question, for he already knew how deeply Rolf loved them.
Thus began a torrid May/ December romance that was in no way parasitic, even if it was a classic instance of Young-Old love. Was it symbiotic? Yes, of course. Baron Otto von Hofsberg finally had his "soldier son" and heir. Rolf, in turn, had his life.
(To Be Continued)