OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 15
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 15
(Revisiting the End of Part 14)
The simple service was led jointly by Sam and Ehrhardt. After Sam's benediction, Ehrhardt stood up and asked the boys to remain for just a moment. "I've been hearing some sad things about life in DAS HAUS," he began. "I've been hearing that it matters whether a boy comes from Tieferwald or from Danzig. I've been hearing that it matters whether he has blond hair or brown. I've been hearing that it matters whether he likes girls...or kinda likes boys. I've been hearing that it matters whether he plays football or likes to play the piano. And that's sad. HAVEN'T YOU FIGURED OUT YET THAT WE'RE ALL BROTHERS?! DON'T YOU KNOW YET THAT IT'S NOT ENOUGH JUST TO LIVE AND LET LIVE? WON'T YOU HONOR DIETER BY LOVING AND SUPPORTING EACH OTHER... ALL OF THE TIME...NO MATTER WHAT?" Wiping the tears from his eyes, Ehrhardt abruptly sat down.
(Continuing Our Story : The Great Ski Adventure)
As January rolled towards its close, the frigid cold continued, but at least the skies brightened in South Central Germany and the heaviest snowstorms became more occasional. Hundreds of German volunteers aided by the U.S. Army finally cleared a road to major salt mines near Berchtesgaden in the Alps. For days, nothing moved on that road other than trucks heavily laden with salt. Slowly, major roads in western Germany were cleared - and kept open through several bad storms. (The Soviets, enjoying access to extensive salt deposits in Poland, refused all help to the Western zones.)
Sam grew increasingly concerned about morale at The House. The schools had not yet reopened; it was extremely difficult for the boys to go anywhere in town; to some extent, they were still caught up in the death of Dieter#1. Finally, in desperation, he went over to the Base and talked with Captain Paul Donahue, a Mainer (i.e., a person from the State of Maine) whose feats he remembered from his college days. (At several races, he had watched the Bowdoin College ski captain wreak havoc on his boys from Dartmouth, as well as contestants from several other schools in northern New England.) After introductions - and a bit of reminiscing - Sam got down to the purpose of his visit. Was he correct in remembering that the Base had access to a ski lodge east of Nuremberg? "Yep." Good skiing? "Yep...not the Alps, but it'll do."
Was there any chance that his boys, the boys from Das Haus, could use the lodge? "Yep... with permission." With which officer should he check to secure permission? "Me." Were there any other things he should know? "Well, we have two Sargents who are right decent trainers." How did the Captain know about all this? "Well, I'm the Base officer for Winter Rec. (Recreational) Programs, and I still like to get out on the slopes!" he drawled...with a deadly smirk.
Dropping about half of his thick "Down East" (i.e., Coastal Maine) accent, his eyes twinkling, Paul Donahue went on to say that Sam's work was well respected on Base, that he was sure that he could get one of the trainers released to work with the boys, and that he even thought he could secure an Army half-track to transport the crew. The upshot of all this was that Sam gathered the boys together that very night and asked them if they would CONCEIVABLY be interested in a ski trip. Needless to say, after a moment of stunned silence, the meeting immediately disintegrated into a shouting, cheering wrestling match on the living room floor! Added to the news shared by a blushing Ehrhardt that Gretchen would soon have their first child, there probably wasn't a boy - or a man - who got any sleep that night!
On the evening appointed for the trainer's first visit, most of the boys were gathered downstairs, eagerly peering out the windows for sight of a Jeep. When the sound of tire chains was finally heard in the distance, the air in the room crackled with electric anticipation! When a Jeep pulled up in front of their house and a warmly dressed NCO (non-commissioned officer) headed towards their door, the tension became impossible. One wonders what the Sargent thought when the door was flung open and he was just about dragged and pushed inside!
Sargent Case was a good man. A professional skier before Pearl Harbor - and, following a stint training mountain troops for winter combat, a sports trainer for much of the time since - he was a delightfully warm, intelligent - and highly competent - human being. All of the boys, but especially the jocks, loved him and took his slightest suggestion as the absolute Word of God. After talking with Sam for a few minutes, he gathered the boys around him and informed them that a Base doctor would be by the next afternoon to give them a quick once-over. "No big deal," he joked. "We just want to see if you're likely to drop dead during the next week!" He also asked them about their work in the Exercise Club. "Why," he asked Jaeger, "did guys who weren't completely into sports work out so hard up in the attic?" He seemed to take Jaeger's answer ("We'd go out of our minds in this weather if we didn't!") at face value and moved on. Commenting that they were lucky that they were in such good shape, for they had little time to prepare, he got right down to work.
For the next couple of weeks, the entire house was essentially turned into a gym. Morning, afternoon, and evening, for instance, long lines of boys walked up the stairs backwards in a semi-squat position. Before sitting down for a meal It was almost expected that they would do a few quadriceps (thigh) stretches. The Sargent was amused by their habit of complete nudity in the attic, but quickly shucked his own T-shirt, gym shorts, and jock. As he fingered his silver whistle (which he adamantly refused to remove), he commented to Sam that he "couldn't let the beasts get the best of him!" The fact that he was built like a Tiger II tank further endeared him to all of the boys - though for varying reasons! There were, of course, some weak protests. Frau Luisa, for instance, commented to Sam on several occasions that the closed air in the house was "getting a bit ripe." And poor Gretchen, who was fast approaching labor, had to beg Ehrhardt to tell them to "tromp around a little more lightly...and, please, a little more quietly." She later admitted proudly that she had never seen a bunch of more cooperative kids. Nor had the good Sargent, who completed his work by sharing some common skiing wisdom, e.g., how to dress for the trip. As a matter of fact, on the last night he worked with them, he showed up with dark glasses for each of the youngsters. (The soldiers at the Base had gladly loaned pairs of their own.) Wolfgang wasn't the only one who insisted on wearing his to bed!
Three days before they left for Bergansicht [Mountain View, the small village nearest the lodge], Gretchen gave birth to a beautiful 9 pound (slightly over 4 kg) baby girl whom Ehrhardt proudly announced they had named Rose (pronounced "ROSE-uh"). Ehrhardt was distraught that he didn't feel he could go on the trip, but, as he said stiffly, "Duty calls!"
Bright and early on the morning of their departure, a large, tightly enclosed Army half-track ground to a stop in front of The House with Captain Donahue and his driver. Several large bundles had been lashed to the vehicle. The boys, quickly taking to Paul as they had to Sargent Case, were soon packed and on the road south. What scenery - and what anticipation! Andreas commented to Kurt that it wasn't the Alpine scenery that Rolf and he had seen in the near background while on their canoeing trip, but the snow-clad mountainous region over towards the Czech border promised a fantastic adventure. Even given horrible driving conditions, it wasn't too many hours before they pulled up in front of the mountain lodge of their dreams. Young men of every description, jostling and shouting, many returning from the slopes carrying skis, filled the area. (Surprisingly, there was even a Red Army team that had come over from Leipzig for a race against their American counterparts.) Promptly - as if welcoming important guests - they were checked in and escorted to their quarters on the second floor of the main building.
Never having been in a German ski lodge, Sam was quite interested in the large, carpeted, comfortably appointed room - promptly dubbed by the boys as "The Room" - to which they were shown. Inquiring about the location of the beds, he was shown to several other large rooms on the same floor that were filled with tiny, individual "sleeping cubicles," each of which contained a secure locker. Bathroom facilities were also identified on the same floor. "The very best accommodations in all Germany," the bellboy said proudly before he was handed a few coins and departed with a satisfied smile.
Needless to say, the boys demanded that they be allowed to move to the slopes immediately. Sam was dumbfounded when the bundles that had been lashed to the half-track were opened and a large variety of equipment distributed to each participant. Finally, when they took a funicular up to the top of one slope and were met by "their" ski instructor, Sam turned to Paul incredulously. "Yep," Paul drawled in his best "Down East" accent - "the best for the best!" After some surprising helpful instruction, Paul joined the best skiers - notably the lanky, now 15 year old Bruno - while the ski pro worked with the intermediates, and Sam took the novices to the "bunny slopes," i.e., the gentlest slopes at a ski resort devised for beginners. When they returned to the lodge some three hours later - the better skiers complaining bitterly that they hadn't been allowed to stay on the slopes for some night skiing - they cleaned up and then sat down to a magnificent meal of Wildschwein mit Kartoffelkloesse [wild boar with potato dumplings - and other goodies] in the lodge's dining hall. Sam again looked at Paul and shook his head in disbelief. And so it continued for two more wonderful days with nary an injury and with common agreement among the boys of DAS HAUS that they had never enjoyed so much fun.
After supper on the final night, Sauna Reservations informed Sam that his crew was finally scheduled for a much-awaited event. As was the lodge custom, they stripped in their sleeping cubicles, secured their clothes and valuables, and simply wrapped themselves in large towels before descending to the half-basement where the large sauna was located. Finding that it had been reserved for them alone, the naked lads stretched out luxuriously on the polished benches, breathing in the fragrant steam, each dreaming that he was a great German industrialist or, maybe even better, a Winter Olympics superstar. At one point, a very sweaty Kurt bent down and whispered something into Ulrich's ear. Giggling lewdly, Ulrich was horrified to see his substantial prong slowly swell and elevate. Red-faced, try at he might, he couldn't do a damned thing about it - and there sure as hell was no way to conceal it! Worse, the schlongs of each and every boy in the sauna also began to swell and rise into the steamy air!
"Ok, men, we've got to do something about this!" commanded Kurt. "Yeah," gasped Andreas, "let's get the hell out of here and back up to The Room!" "Hold up a minute," gurgled Bruno - whose gigantic member was fast approaching ten, rock-hard, dripping inches (25.4 cm!) - "I met a super guy out on the slopes today, a member of the Russian ski team...about our age. Can I ask him to join us?" In no condition to debate the issue, a brusque "Yeah!" settled that question. "Hey, wait just another minute," yelled Andreas. "How about you, Sam, and you, Paul?" he asked provocatively. Looking rather dazedly at Paul, Sam asked if they hadn't been planning to hit the bars. Paul, however, simply smirked and grunted, "Yeah, count me in." When Sam quickly counted himself in as well, the boys' business was finally completed. Leaping first into the outside pool of icy water - which did help improve their "condition" for the return trip through the lodge lobby - the company quickly redonned their towels, and hurriedly tramped upstairs. Fortunately, they remained oblivious to the stares and lewd grins that met several of them for whom the dip into icy water had not been completely successful.
Bruno, dragging his towel-clad Russian behind, was the last to return. Yes, a real live enemy Russian! In truth, the atmosphere in the room was just a bit strained - until the exuberant lad named Ivan (Honestly, that was his real name!) waved an enormous jug that had to contain at least 3 US gallons (roughly 11.4 liters) of German cider. "My entry fee," he proclaimed in passable German. (Author's note: WARNING: German cider is a potentially deadly brew. It can taste, smell, and even look like the mildest American variety, but therein lies the rub. Alcoholic, it silently creeps up on the unwary - until it suddenly POUNCES and slugs one squarely between the eyes. BEWARE!) When Bruno added that Ivan had a good shot at making the Soviet team that would go to the 1948 Olympic Winter Games to be held in St. Moritz, Switzerland, he was enthusiastically accepted as "one of the boys." When the handsome, blond Slav dropped his towel, disclosing an impossible dong that would have done an Army mule proud, he was devoutly proclaimed, "King of the Jerks-Offs"!
"Common, boys, gather 'round," commanded Kurt. "We gotta have some RELIEF! Drop those towels and sit in a circle." By this time, of course - perhaps inspired by the humongous King-dong - every man and boy in the room sported an erection that his mommie would never have wanted to hear about. Lawdy...lawdy...lawdy... The display was spectacular! "It's real easy," Kurt continued. "You've been doing it since you were a pup. Just grab it...gently...and do what comes naturally." Aided by the contents of the cider jug being passed around the circle, their masculinity at stake, and their fears allayed by Old Horse Face, the straightest jock in the whole damned House, even the shyest of the shy began doing exactly that. As was to be expected, there was no way that the boys could long concentrate on their own alone. Furtively, they began glancing to the right...then to the left...then across the circle. Their thoughts could almost be heard in the room: 'Oh, man, look at that thing Bruno has!' 'Heh...heh...heh... If Sam drips any more, they're going to have to install a drain in the floor!' 'Why in hell is Otto spitting on his fingers before rubbing it? . . . Oh, man, that feels good!' 'Damn! I wish mine were big enough to need my whole hand like Ivan!' 'Come on, Paul, you got me into this. Get me out!' 'If I do this much longer, there's going to be t-r-o-u-b-l-e !' And so it continued for many happily lewd and lascivious minutes.
Finally, Heinrich suggested that they try a game that had been "very popular" in his village. (He received a few catcalls for that, but plunged bravely ahead.) "It's called 'Know Your Right from Your Left.' The leader simply calls out loudly, 'To the Right' or 'To the Left.' When you hear the command, you have to stroke the cock of the guy next to you...on your left or on your right, depending." "Yeah, let's try it!" Andreas agreed, a slight smirk on his face as he turned towards his ostensibly straight housemate. Fully into the rut, Kurt interjected, "Ok, let's do it! I'll call out the signals. Here we go: TO THE RIGHT! TO THE LEFT! TO THE RIGHT! TO THE RIGHT!" (Naturally, the signals came faster and faster until it was almost impossible to see the hands whirling around the circle!) Finally, the inevitable happened. Ernst, a very straight 15 year old, reached out a little too far and a little too quickly, lost his balance, and fell headlong into Horst's lap. (Though placing him on a limited schedule, the doctor had, thankfully, finally allowed the redhead to come along on the trip.) Horst calmly looked down at the totally embarrassed youngster who lay draped over his cock, and said in a superior, almost British tone of voice, "R-e-a-l-l-y." Needless to say, the entire circle - Ernst included - broke up completely.
"No!" commanded Kurt, the sweat standing out on his brow, his cock painfully throbbing, "We've got to continue! TO THE LEFT! TO THE LEFT! TO THE RIGHT!" Suddenly, a scream broke out that sounded suspiciously like "ACH DAIRMO!" [Russian for "Ah Shit!"]. All eyes pinned on Ivan, the boys beheld the young, red-faced Red Army Lieutenant - the man who would become the youngest star of the 1948 Winter Olympic Games in St. Moritz - looking down at his crimson, rock-hard Ungeheur [monster]. Two hands were fastened tightly to it with death grips, the hands of Dieter and Konrad. Clearly, one of those gentlemen didn't know his right from his left! Reaching out with his two long arms, Ivan curled them around the necks of the two culprits before laughingly drawing their heads to his chest. "ACH DAIRMO!" he shouted once again. Wryly, Kurt passed the cider jug around to the wounded - and very tipsy - Russian bear. The others collapsed into choking laughter. Clearly, "The Game" was over.
"No! No! No!" shouted Kurt. "We gotta have some RELIEF! Grab your own, shut your eyes, and RUB! Oh, yeah...STROKE! STROKE! STROKE!" In truth, not many eyes were closed a few minutes later when loud grunts exploded much like a line of artillery firing a sequenced 17-gun salute in honor of a visiting potentate! Faces and bodies covered in jism, all of the boys - straight and gay - had to admit that was a spectacular way to end a glorious adventure!
Jubilant as they were at the end of that which they referred to ever after as the "Great Circle- Jerk," there were more than a few mixed feelings when each man and boy confronted himself in bed that night.
Sam, for instance, wondered if he had given the younger boys enough protection. Sure, they would jack-off - that's a male given - but should he have sanctioned (by his active presence) a GROUP activity? Had he actually ENCOURAGED a significant increase in sexual activity at The House? How about their post-orgasmic feelings and doubts - which they would face alone? How about letting them grow up to find their own sexual orientation? Had he unthinkingly put a finger on gay side of the gay-straight scale? Above all, had he fulfilled his commitment to leave his boys better off than had he not become involved in their growing up? Unfortunately, there was no "House Director's Manual" that gave him the answers to any of these questions - and he finally had to "simply" turn over and try to find sleep.
Maybe Sam should have had fewer doubts, at least in the case of Konrad. The young Silesian was exultant! Having always felt in the back of his mind that he had simply been "dropped into" that single bed at the far end of his bedroom, he now felt that he was a full member of DAS HAUS. He belonged! Thrusting his fist into the air, he turned over with a grunt and "simply" fell into a deep, happy sleep.
By way of contrast, Little Wolfgang tossed restlessly on his bunk bed. That had been his first sexual experience with another human being, let alone 16 of them! Oh, my God, he had been excited as he sat there, his belly showing a few spots of his own spunk, his arm covered with Horst's, his leg with Ulrich's. HE WAS A MAN! Why, then, did he feel just a little...dirty...and, oh so confused? Was it because he had actually ENJOYED reaching out and stroking Ulrich's big cock? Did that mean he was GAY? His guts jerked painfully and tears came to his eyes as he tried to cram those thoughts WAY back into his head! To whom could he possibly turn to speak about such feelings? Sobbing - ever so quietly - he "simply" turned over and tried to find sleep.
Kurt also lay on his back in his darkened sleeping cubicle, his eyes wide open. Oh, man, that felt good. He still couldn't believe the way his spunk had almost reached the other side of the circle! An all-time record... Wow! Hold it...did he hear a quiet sob from somewhere else in the room? If he was in fact the "first boy" in The House, didn't he have some obligations here? Shouldn't he speak with a few of the guys - you know, the younger ones - and make sure they were ok with everything? He remembered when he was 13. God, he was confused! They had to know that having fun with their cocks was just part of growing up into big studs! Yeah, being a leader was ok, he thought. Filled with determination to "do his duty," he turned over and "simply" fell into a peaceful sleep.
As the half-track lumbered down the low mountains the next morning, Sam interrupted ongoing conversations, saying, "I'm glad you guys had a great trip! I did, too. If there's anything you would like to talk with me about, I hope you know that I am always here for you. Always! Others may have let you down, but I never will. I may not be your father, but you need to know that I love you..." Blushing, he faltered, added that his door was always open, nodded...and fell silent. As was always the wont of adolescents, the boys smiled respectfully (many even affectionately)...and returned to their conversations. But they remembered! Before the week was out, three youngsters, including Wolfgang, had nervously crept into his office and talked with him. Each - including Sam - left the room with a happy, relieved grin on his face.
Later on the return trip, Kurt (who was sitting next to Andreas) leaned over and said, "That was a great night...brother." Sporting a wide grin, Andreas nodded vigorously, saying, "Yeah, the very best!" "Got an idea for you," Kurt continued. "When we get back, how about throwing a dance...for everyone?" Scarcely able to maintain his composure, Andreas looked at him for a moment before quietly saying, "Yeah, brother. Let's do it!"
(To Be Continued)