OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 5
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!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I am deeply grateful to my friend, Ed C, who has shared some stories told by relatives who lived through the tribulations of 1945-46 in occupied Germany. One of them, the "corn meal mush" vignette, is woven into this part; others will appear ere we are done. Thank you, Ed! /cm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PART 5
(Revisiting the End of Part 4)
"Do you feel bad about not having killed him?" Sam's Official Assistant finally asked. "Come on, Sam! You're no Scheisskopf. We're going to need every tough man...and woman...and kid we can find before we're through. I was down at the temporary train station this afternoon. Soldiers - many of them in terrible shape - are coming back. There was quite a line of Army ambulances. I heard stories about the kind of a winter we are going to have. No coal, no food, no warm clothes... Apartments all shot to hell... I think your army is going to need every bit of help it can get if we are going to make it through some hard times."
The light from a small fire flickered on Andreas's hair as it tumbled down over his young face. Gold...pure gold... Who was the mentor and who the student?
(Continuing Our Story - The Gathering Storm)
In 1948, Winston Churchill's epic, THE GATHERING STORM, chronicled the conditions that gave rise to Adolf Hitler and the unleashing of his and his cohorts' maniacal fury upon the world. By August of 1945, this fury had spent itself against its victims and the resistance of those who would not perish. Fifty million human beings were left dead, and countless others were scarred in mind, body, and soul. The treasure of a generation lay scattered in the mud of a thousand battlefields, mixed with the rubble of a thousand broken cities, and rusting under the waves of the sea. Germany and Japan lay prostrate before their victors and vulnerable to new storms, natural and human-made, that gathered to threaten the lives of those who still lived amidst the rubble of war.
The small German city of Tieferwald am Main faced a major human tragedy. Simply put, there just wasn't enough food, fuel, and shelter to support the demands of the coming winter. Further, the long-range weather forecasts were less than promising. As might be expected, movement to meet these problems was initially slow and halting. Major parts and services of the city had been demolished; the citizenry was in shock. It seemed hard to think of much beyond getting enough food to sustain life and put one foot in front of the other. German servicemen were only slowly returning to the area, and the young were at loose ends. The flood of refugees from the East was a continuing problem. In November, for instance, it was announced that the American zone would receive 2.25 million ethnic Germans expelled from eastern Europe during the months December 1945 through July of 1946 - and that didn't count the refugees who simply continued to filter in from the East! The greater personal freedom and economic opportunity available in the West induced 1.6 million Germans in the Soviet Zone to cross into the western zones between October 1945 and June 1946. Though supportive, General Clemens had to contend with a military that was still focused on "occupation" and more global questions of political and economic policy. The United Relief Agencies had to contend with an American public that was weary of tremendous War demands upon its energy, money, and tears.
With the strong support of General Clemens and increasing fiscal support from the URA, Sam Peters received a major assignment. Specifically, he was charged with involving able-bodied adults of the city, as well as those from a large Displaced Persons camp nearby, in recovering building materials and potential fuel from structures that had collapsed. In support, one of Andreas's most important duties was to involve German teens (mostly younger teens, but some older as the troops returned) in the massive recovery effort. For instance, they and some former service men in their early 20s made a major contribution to repairing the worst damage to habitable dwellings. The cellars of destroyed dwellings were searched for food stores. Such harvested foods and other foodstuffs as could be found were purchased in a large area of the surrounding countryside and brought back to the city (often in Army trucks) to be preserved. Unfortunately, the usual planting had not taken place as the war ground to an end, most of the labor force was at war, and many of the fields were still covered in mines. Hence, the yield was slim. (Although the military initially said that food was a German problem, the General even tried to put his hands on all military rations that could be legally obtained. In fact, it was said by some that several warehouses in the areas occupied by American troops had been emptied by "persons unknown") Ever to his credit, the General actively encouraged American Occupation authorities to identify fuel resources throughout the western part of Germany (chiefly the British- occupied Ruhr district and the French-occupied Saarland), stockpile them for the coming winter, and develop rationing and distribution programs. Not every effort met with success, but morale improved throughout the City, a feeling of hesitant solidarity slowly grew between the occupiers and the occupied - and the store of supplies, however inadequate, gradually expanded during the autumn months. In all this, Sam found himself energized by the constant demands upon his energy and intelligence. He and his beloved Andreas felt that their lives were making a difference, that they had meaning. And their love for each other grew apace.
Sitting in Frau Goettingen's apartment, Sam had been repeating his thanks for the results of several meetings of women that she had chaired. "You have given us invaluable help, dear lady, " he said. "We probably have more accurate numbers on several kinds of home needs than any other comparably-sized city in Germany! And your offers to continue providing assistance are appreciated beyond measure."
"That's all right," young man," she replied. Nodding towards her invalid husband, she continued, "Professor Doctor Goettingen and I still worry about you. One can try to do too much, you know. Still, we appreciate all that you are doing. For instance, everyone says that the food situation will get better." (At that time, Germans were subsisting on 900-1000 calories per day.) She continued, "Frau Pfitzer reminded me just the other day that last February we had nothing to eat for six weeks other than coarse corn meal. Indeed...indeed... How much mush can one eat? You look tired. Now go home and take care of that wonderful boy of yours."
"Thank you again, Frau Goettingen. Please say hello to your grandchildren for me." Taking a last sip of the abominable ersatz coffee, he rose, bowed slightly, and left for home.
(School Days)
As much to get the kids off the streets as for any other reason, the American Military Administration decreed that the schools would reopen in October. General Clemens' office attempted to ensure that the teaching staff in Tieferwald would be free of Nazis and avid Nazi sympathizers, but the task was slow and difficult. Germans took the lead in readying buildings that could be used for grammar and secondary schools. School staffs, supported by URA funds and officers assigned by the Army, attempted to gather instructional materials and supplies of every sort. The difficulties in this process, his workload, and Andreas' valuable contributions led Sam to agree to a compromise. Andreas could remain as his Official Assistant as long as he resumed his secondary schooling during the late winter. In the meantime, Andreas would undertake tutoring at home. On returning to school, he would spend the first half of the day in the classroom. Like most young men of that time, he would then be given released time for work that was still referred to as "in the national interest."
Attempting to prepare information on continuing local needs for the Frankfurt URA office, Sam actually visited several schools during the first months of their operation. Generally, he was discouraged. He admired several of the principals, but the instruction he observed seemed to him to be more of the same. That is, the student was expected to learn that which was set before them and not question the authority of the book or the teacher. That seemed unfortunate to Sam who understood the ideal of educating American children to be a little "prickly," strongly independent and self-starting, ready - sometimes a little too ready - to question authority. Nevertheless, he finally had to sit back and admit that not everything could be sorted out in the last months of 1945.
In addition to developing his skills, Andreas's work also had the benefit of bringing him into contact with Germans closer to his own age. For instance, he often joined them in an informal late afternoon football game. It was at one of these games that he reestablished contact with Ehrhardt. One day on the playing field, several bullies who had spied his cap accused him of being an "American informer" and assaulted him. Ehrhardt, who had been watching from the sidelines, lit into them and, as Andreas excitedly reported to Sam, "whipped their asses!" As he stood over them, he barked that Andreas was Volksdeutsch, a loyal German whom "dogs" had expelled from his home and murdered his family. He added that the bloodied boy was working for the people of Tieferwald, which was more than his tormenters were doing! If anyone ever touched him again - other than out of respect - Ehrhardt would personally cut off his balls and stuff them down his throat. Needless to say, the effect on Andreas's status was marked! When he finally enrolled in his gymnasium, for instance, he reported that most of the students greeted him warmly and accepted him as a potential friend.
As the boys cleaned up after the fray, Andreas learned that Ehrhardt - like many a gangling 17 year-old former Hitler Youth - had been assigned to a grammar school. Obviously, the HJ had been more effective in shaping their bodies and military skills than in developing their minds.
(Christmas, 1945)
Although the early winter had been somewhat milder than expected, snow was falling steadily in Tieferwald am Main on Christmas Eve, 1945. Sam and Andreas stood at the door of their home, welcoming the nearly 50 guests who had been invited for a Christmas celebration. A Weihnachsbaum [Christmas tree] stood resplendent on a table, its decorations assembled by Andreas and some younger teens out of materials scrounged from homes, offices, the PX, and the ground itself, e.g., some colored paper, a little metallic foil, and some tiny quartz crystals salvaged from the rubble. The crowning glory, of course, was a handful of small candles that Sam found...somewhere. Like the hope in each guest's heart, their flames burned brightly on a tree that no one would ever forget. Each and every guest - even though he or she was receiving a ration that included 3 medium-sized potatoes, a small amount of grain, 1 teaspoon of fat, and 1 teaspoon of sugar daily - brought a little contribution to place on the Christmas buffet...perhaps only a couple of cookies or a single piece of potato candy. Sam's buddy at the PX had somehow produced two geese, as well as an assortment of salads and nuts. Before the evening was over, everyone got a taste - and there were even a few left-overs. Needless to say, nobody asked where the small quantity of beer and a few bottles of Sekt [the German Champagne] had come from - and no one told! More than a few guests were reminded of the Biblical parable of Jesus and the fishes at Galilee.
In truth - and consistent with the German tradition - it was a FAMILY evening. Though her husband had finally succumbed to advanced age in late November, Frau Goettingen was greeted, as were a few staff members at the administrative building, a couple of school principals, three teens (including Ehrhardt) who had made sterling contributions to the apartment repair project, and a host of others in the local community with whom Sam and/or Andreas had forged a personal relationship during the autumn. Even General Clemens made a brief appearance!
Early in the evening, as strains of "Oh, Tannenbaum, oh, Tannenbaum" ["Oh, Fir Tree, oh, Fir Tree"] rose throughout the house, Ehrhardt came up to Andreas and asked if they might speak for a moment.
"Sure, come on up to my room," the youngster replied unthinkingly.
Entering the room that now contained only one larger bed, Ehrhardt glanced around. Gazing directly into Andreas's eyes - without the slightest hint of reproach or disgust - he stated (rather than asked), "You share this with Sam."
Holding his breath, Andreas squeaked, "Yeah."
"Good," came Ehrhardt's only response.
As the boys sat on the edge of the bed, Ehrhardt somewhat embarrassedly put his hand into his pocket and withdrew a tiny package wrapped in a scrap of wrinkled German Christmas paper and tied roughly with a length of red string. "Here, this is for you," he exclaimed. Clumsily, Andreas unwrapped the packet, finding inside a small toy soldier made of lead and clad in a uniform of the Napoleonic period. The paint was gone, it was bent, and one arm and the nose were missing. Nevertheless, there was no questioning its significance to the former Hitler Youth and SS Sturmscharfuehrer [the equivalent of an American Army Master Sargent]. (Ehrhardt never told Andreas where or when he had found it, but Andreas always thought he knew.) Andreas was opening his mouth to offer warm thanks when Ehrhardt abruptly continued.
"I lost Johann last week."
"What? I thought he was back at school!" Andreas replied.
"No, I tried to keep him on track, but the anger inside him burned his heart out. I tried, Andreas, I tried so hard! Johann had become my little brother!"
"What happened?"
"In order to rob an apartment, he had climbed up the back wall of a building to the third floor with two other idiots. Placing his weight on some crumbling mortar, he slipped, fell to the ground, and broke his fool neck! I buried him myself. Verdammte Krieg!" [The damned war!"]
Ehrhardt had not shed a tear, but his face was the picture of utter despair. Daring to put his arm around his friend's shoulders, Andreas reached over, looking up in the process. Sam stood in the partially open doorway with a heavy coat over his arm. Ehrhardt must have looked up at the same time, for he tensed and rose to his feet.
"Herr Hauptmann...," he began.
"I know you tried, Ehrhardt; Johann was our brother, too," Sam said quietly before walking briskly over to the young German. "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might be leaving soon to spend some of Christmas Eve with your buddies. Since I had something that I thought might be of interest, I came upstairs." Sam held out the warm garment to Ehrhardt. When he simply stood there stupidly, Sam flung it around his shoulders. "Good, it fits. That'll save me a trip down to the Relief Office next week to donate it." Ehrhardt remained mute. Sam looked squarely into his eyes and growled, "The name is 'Sam,'" threw his arms around the tall lad, and kissed him softly on the cheek. Andreas later told Sam that he wasn't completely sure that Ehrhardt had liked that, but he had seen the first tears in Ehrhardt's eyes that he had ever witnessed, as well as lips that were quivering.
Stepping backwards two steps, the coat-clad, young 17 year-old saluted, barely managed to emit a hoarse, "Merry Christmas to you...Sam, and to you, Andreas," turned on his heels, and marched stiffly from the room.
The party finally broke up relatively early to repeated stanzas of "Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht." After the last guest had departed and the worst of the mess had been cleaned up, it wasn't long before the two young men stripped, bathed, and fell into bed.
At midnight, bells in the temporary tower of the old cathedral downtown boomed out their welcome to Christmas Day. Turning over, Andreas asked, "You're not asleep yet, Lover?"
"No, it was a big night, and today will be an exciting day," Sam replied.
"Would you be mad with me if I asked you for a special Christmas present?"
"Hell no, Andreas! What's on your mind?"
Beginning rather formally and speaking as if from memorized notes, the youngster began, "Sam, I would like for you to give me the greatest gift that can be given, the gift of oneself. I want...NEED...you inside me." Sounding more like the teenager he was, he continued, "I know that neither of us has ever done it, but we've had some good advice...and I'm clean. And, Sam," he pleaded, "there's always a first time." Andreas paused, waiting anxiously for Sam's reaction.
Sam answered by bending down and placing his lips squarely on Andreas's. His fingertips sensually explored the boy's shoulders as well as his hard biceps and triceps; his lips slipped off his lover's and sensually sucked the length of Andreas's proud jaw line. Beneath him, he could feel the boy's body emitting volcanic heat, his head thrusting back into the pillow, his cock swelling and stabbing into his torso. Breathing heavily, his tongue washed his lover's Adam's apple, before continuing up the backwards arch of his wide neck and back onto his lips.
"Andreas, I want you so much. I'm on fire, boy! But can you understand how much I fear hurting you?"
"Don't be scared, Sam. We love each other. We'll always love each other. Take me now! Oh, God, Sam, make me yours!"
His body trembling, Sam rose, followed his rock-hard cock into the bathroom, retrieved some lubricant and a small towel, and returned to bed. The snow had stopped and moonlight illuminated the room. His gorgeous young lover lay supinely on his back, his head thrust back, every muscle of his torso defined, his thighs separated slightly, his thick, pulsing cock rising above its nest of light hair, his toes curling and uncurling. Raising one foot flat onto the bed, he leaned slightly towards Sam, reaching out his arm, imploring his lover to hurry to him.
Somewhat dazed, but losing his reticence and fear, Sam sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand over the satiny smooth skin of Andreas's torso, lovingly brushing the sweat from the boy's forehead. Placing both hands at the sides of his lover's body, he slowly drew them towards him. Bending down and placing his lips upon one of Andreas's nipples, he sucked sharply. The boy gasped, bleated, his entire body shuddering. Remembering a comment that Andreas had made earlier in their lovemaking, Sam drew back and mischievously asked, "Like that?"
"Oh, yeah, Sam! More! More!"
Leaving Andreas's nipple, Sam's mouth jumped to the youth's thrusting cock, bathing it in his saliva, nibbling on the ridge separating head and stem, sipping on the boy's flowing precum, allowing the hefty pole to slip into his welcoming mouth.
His balls tightening up, Andreas's choked out, "No, No, Sam, I'm close, but I don't want to cum now. It's time! Let's do what Dr. Hecker suggested."
"Ok, Big Boy, Sam growled. "Raise your knees and clasp your hands under them."
Tucking a small pillow under the boy's butt and squeezing some lubricant onto his finger," Sam slowly rubbed it into Andreas's perineum and up over his anus, circling the muscle until it was well lubricated. As the boy began to bleat and writhe upon the bed, Sam bent down and began to tongue the anus. Only minutes passed before it winked open. Pushing firmly into the cavity, Sam slowly tongue-fucked the youngster until the impassioned boy began to go mad, shoving his head from side to side, throwing his arms around, and bouncing his back against the bed.
Sam paused, thoroughly lubricated his cock and the fingers of one hand, and gently pressed one finger into the boy's anal canal. Finger-fucking him, he slowly stretched the anal muscles until Andreas gasped and let out a little cry.
"You ok?" Sam asked nervously.
Small tears spurting out from the corners of his eyes," Andreas gulped convulsively, and moaned, "Yes, Sam, yes! I'm fine! They said it was going to hurt, but it doesn't...all that much. More, Sam!"
A second finger followed the first - and a third, the second. The boy was actually purring and excitedly raising his body to meet each of Sam's probes. Only when his lover's finger grazed his prostrate, did the boy omit a short, highly pitched cry - and yell at Sam to give him more of that, too!
Sam finally knelt before his beloved, raised the youth's thickly muscled legs onto his shoulders, positioned his cock, reminded the boy consciously to relax, and pressed slowly forward. Sam's preparation and their flaming desire working together, Sam's first lunge carried his cock smoothly into Andreas up to his pubes. They lay together for a moment...without words or motion. As a roar seemed to build within the youth's chest and his lips began to move incoherently, Sam begin slowly to withdraw and to thrust anew, his lower body rubbing against the youth's on every movement.
"SAM!" screamed the teen, tightening his anal muscles on Sam's cock, "YOU FEEL SO GOOD! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SO!"
All too soon, Andreas's cock shuddered and erupted, spitting cum over half of the county. As the boy's muscles involuntarily clamped down, Sam felt his cock expand even more, tighten, and propel a rich Christmas gift deeply into his beloved. A German 78 [the Wehrmacht's classic World War II cannon] could have done no better.
They lay, first on each other, then side by side, laughing, crying, whispering, kissing, glorying in their youth and in their love. Finally, Andreas lifted up on one elbow to face his lover.
"Thank you for my special gift, Sam. It was...wonderful." His eyes reigniting, he added, "It's your turn now, isn't it, buddy?" Sam grinned sleepily and allowed that the day was young and that there would be time for many more Christmas gifts. After a quick clean-up, their bodies coiled around each other and the two young men fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The last mumbled words that could be heard were, "Damn, I love you so!"
(To Be Continued)