Spoils of War – the Aftermath


My name is Rainer Hausmann, and I am a Berliner. I live in Western Berlin, slowly reconstructing itself after the recent devastation inflicted on the world by that lunatic Hitler. Our city is divided into four sectors now – American, British, French and Russian – and, like so many other Berliners, I am taking advantage of the financial opportunities that offers. I work in a homosexual brothel. There seem to be hundreds of our occupiers eager to throw their dollars, francs and pounds at anyone willing to give them an hour of pleasure away from their duties. The Ivans never come into the American sector.

It seems as if it doesn’t matter to these soldier boys whether the warm, soft mouth sucking them, and the tight hole they’re fucking, belongs to a boy or a girl as long as it gives them satisfaction for a good price, and foreign currency can buy a tolerable lifestyle in the black market. I’m popular because I’m young, tall, slim, blond and, if I say so myself, beautiful. If I let my hair grow out I could easily be taken for a pretty girl. Until you see my 8-inch tool. Most of the men I entertain would be outraged if you suggested they were queer: “I ain’t no fuckin’ fag.” As far as they’re concerned it doesn’t count as long as they’re not the ones doing the sucking, or being fucked. That’s one of the reasons why I enjoy cruising the cafés and bars around the Kurfürstendamm looking for pretty young men to pick up for my own pleasure.

I developed a particular taste for GIs one night in France during the war. My unit got into a fight with a group of Americans, and I hid in a bombed out farmhouse. I hadn’t seen much action before and I was scared witless. One of the Yankees, cut off from his comrades, turned up there too and took me prisoner. I realised he was at least as scared as I was, I started talking to him and, well, to cut a long story short, I seduced him. We spent the night holding each other and making love, then in the morning I helped him find his way back to his own side.

Ever since then, the Americans who visit our little pleasure house have always been my favourites. Most of them are loud and brash, and like to show what manly guys they are, even as their cock sinks to the hilt into my ass. The ones I look for on my excursions tend to be quieter, more introspective, beautiful boys looking for something new in their lives, but not really sure what it is. I like the ones who think of themselves as ‘normal’, who’ve never been with a man before. I have a predator’s instinct for spotting potential new lovers: often I can see that, deep down, they’ve got queer leanings before they even have the slightest suspicion of it themselves. My latest lover, though, I think he’d suspected it for a while, and just needed the chance to find out.

I saw him in one of my favourite bars just off the Ku’damm. It’s popular with the occupying forces, and not too many Berliners use it. He was sitting with a group of four or five other GIs in their smart uniforms, yet somehow not with them. He didn’t seem to be sharing their boisterous humour, seemed slightly apart from the group. The place was quite crowded, but I noticed him as soon as I walked in. He wasn’t too tall, maybe five-eight (I’m just over six feet), but with a nice, solid body. He was, I guessed, 19 or 20, only a few years younger than me. He had a mop of curly dark hair, olive skin, and beautiful eyes: big and dark, with long eyelashes – they reminded me of a giraffe’s eyes. They scanned the bar languidly, as he half listened to the ribald banter of his friends.

I watched him, that attractive young boy, and eventually his eyes scanned across me, like the beam of a lighthouse. They doubled back and met mine: not for long, but long enough for me to recognise an opportunity. After a couple of seconds he turned quickly back to his friends as if embarrassed at the intimacy of our momentary contact. Maybe a minute later his eyes flickered in my direction again, but he turned away instantly as he realised how intently I was scrutinising him, and I saw his dark cheeks blush. After perhaps another ten minutes he headed for the men’s room. Downing my schnapps I ambled over – not to corner him at the urinal, that’s not my game. As I saw him approaching the exit door I just happened to be going the other way, into the toilets. It was a narrow entrance, and our bodies rubbed together. Being a polite young American he glanced up to apologise – and I saw a look of recognition, then of shock, pass across his features. I gave him a smile – I would have spoken to him then, but one of his friends arrived to relieve himself and I lost my chance.

After a further twenty minutes I was beginning to curse myself, and wish I had approached him in the lavatory. He was still with his comrades, and I saw no way to get to talk to him, let alone make a move on him. I was just about to give it up as a lost opportunity when, miracle of miracles, the GIs got up to leave – all except my boy. There was some money counting and a fair amount of laughter, then one of them ruffled my target’s hair and said, “Come on Mikey, Deena’ll never find coffeedonutfest.com out.” It was clear they were on their way to a whore house, and Mikey had decided not to go with them. After they left he wrapped his hands around his beer stein and stared into it. After a few seconds he glanced nervously in my direction, just for a moment. It probably wasn’t an invitation, but I wasn’t going to pass up the chance fate had tossed into my aroused lap.

I strolled over and, gesturing at an empty chair, said, “May I?”

He looked up, surprised, then, still remembering his manners, said, “Yeah, sure.” He had a pleasant, quite light voice.

I eased into the seat. Seeing no point in playing too many games, I said, “I’m Rainer. So, you’re Mikey and Deena is, what, your girlfriend? How long have you been lovers?”

He looked surprised again, but dismissed the fact that I knew such detail. Aft6er all, his friends had been very loud. “I’m Miguel Andrade.” Despite the Latin name his accent was 100 per cent US of A. “Deena’s my fiancée, we’ve been an item since 10th grade. She’s not my lover – I mean, that is, we’ve never…” His voice trailed off in embarrassed confusion.

“But you miss her, yes?” He just stared into his beer. One of my friends always tells me that the last thing you want to remind a man of, when you’re about to fuck him, is his sweetheart back home. I disagree: in my experience, play up what a fellow’s missing out on and there’s every chance he’ll take the opportunity to relieve his frustrations with the first person who offers him the chance, knowing said sweetheart will never get to hear about it. I gently pressed my knee against Mikey’s under the table. An innocent enough contact, at face value, and he didn’t pull away. Adopting a slightly more seductive tone, I said, “But of course, you’ve had plenty of opportunity here to…”

He looked up, shocked. “No, I’ve never been with another woman. I don’t do that; that’s where those guys are going now.”

This was getting better and better: it sounded as if he was a complete virgin. I signalled to a waitress. “Another schnapps for me, and another beer for my friend here.” I turned back to Mikey. “So, how do you like my city?” As I said it, I rested my hand on his knee under the table. He tensed, but he didn’t move away or brush my hand away. After a few seconds, with me still touching him, he said, clearly nervous, “I like Berlin just fine. It must have been very beautiful before the war.”

I chuckled. “Berlin has always been impressive, but not particularly beautiful. I know, I’m a man who appreciates beauty.”

Mikey gave a small gasp as my hand slid from his knee to his thigh. Staring into his beer, he said quietly, “We’re not supposed to fraternise with the local population.”

I smiled reassuringly. “We’re not fraternising, we’re just talking, like civilised people. Look, if you’re nervous about being seen talking to me maybe we could go back to my apartment and, er, talk some more.” My hand moved again – my fingers were now inches from his cock. “Get to know each other better.”

He glanced up into my eyes, then looked away. I barely heard him whisper, “How much?”

I smiled again. “You’re my friend Mikey. I don’t charge my friends.”

He stared into the middle distance, apparently thinking about it. Then, with a decisive movement he drained his glass, stood, and said, “I don’t think that would be a very good idea. Thanks for the beer – look, let me pay.” I shook my head and raised my hands in protest. He shrugged and elbowed his way to the door. There he glanced back for a moment, as if reconsidering his decision, then walked out of the bar. I wasn’t prepared to give up just like that. I had got so close, and so very easily. Mikey was quite beautiful, and he was worth a bit of effort. So I followed him at a distance, making sure he didn’t see me. It was easy, he ambled along morosely, never glancing back, hands thrust deep into his pockets. I thought maybe he’d go into another bar, and I could continue my seduction there. Instead, he turned into a picture house. Amused by the possibilities that might offer, I followed him in.

The theatre was already dark, an American newsreel showing. I watched Mikey take a seat. There were probably no more than a dozen people scattered around the auditorium. Mikey glanced up in surprise when somebody sat right next to him, then did a double-take when he saw it was me. I half expected him to bolt, but he just sat rigid, staring fixedly at the screen. Casually, my eyes also focused on the flickering images, I slid my hand onto his thigh again. No reaction. I slid my palm up onto his fly. A gasp. I let my hand just lay there for a minute or so – and so did Mikey. I could feel him stiffening inside his pants.

The newsreel ended and some cheap American melodrama started. Slowly, one button at a time, I undid Mikey’s fly. He glanced sideways at me for a moment, then turned back to the screen and swallowed nervously. I let my hand rest on his jockey shorts for a few seconds, then he gave a small, whimpering groan as I reached inside and my long, cultured fingers curled around his prick. In the friendly darkness of the kino I eased it out of his shorts. It was long, thick and uncut – just the way I like them. I slowly began to slide his foreskin up and down the shaft, my eyes still on the screen as Greer Garson patted down her hair and said something to Robert Mitchum. Mikey slid down slightly in his seat, and I heard his breathing quicken and deepen as I gradually increased the speed with which I was wanking him. Suddenly he gave a little squeak and a moment later his hot cum splattered onto my hand and his nice military pants. Our eyes locked and I very deliberately lifted my hand to my mouth and licked his sperm from it. Mikey looked slightly dazed. I was about to suggest we went back to my place after all when he leapt to his feet, pushed past me and raced from the auditorium. I tried to follow, but some old fool got in my way and by the time I got onto the street I couldn’t spot him in the twilight.

I went back to the bar where we’d met several times in the days that followed, but Mikey was never there. Then, two weeks after our first encounter, I walked in and there he was, sitting all alone. Carefully, like a birdwatcher trying to get close to a rare species without making it fly away, I walked over. He wasn’t wearing his uniform this time, just casual pants and shirt and a battered leather jacket. He was slumped in his chair, but quickly sat upright as he saw me standing over him. As before, I motioned to the chair next to him. “May I?” He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. I smiled, and said, “So, how are you, my friend?”

He smiled back at me, nervously I thought. “I’m good. I’m waiting for my buddies. They’ve gone to the zoo, and I said I’d meet them here.” The poor Zoologischer Garten had suffered terrible bombing during the war, but was gradually beginning to re-establish itself.

I nodded sagely. “It’s nice to see you again. You left rather abruptly last time.”

His swarthy face blushed. “I…I don’t now how I feel about what happened that time. Like I told you, I’ve never…done that with a woman before, not even Deena.”

I picked up something in his tone. Had I underestimated my little Mikey? Curiously, I prompted, “But with a man?”

He glanced up at me and yelped, “No!” Then, more quietly, he said, “But…well, there was this guy at high school. I was on the football team, and he was the star. We hung out together, and it made me feel big, being the bud of this guy all the cheerleaders wanted to…you know. Well, one time, after training…”

He trailed off. “Go on,” I prompted. My hand again rested on his leg.

He looked up at me. “This isn’t easy for me. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. One time, after training, there were just the two of us in the locker room, him and me. We were laughing and joking, both butt naked, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, he reached out and kissed me. I don’t mean on the cheek, this was full on the lips, more sexual than I’d ever kissed Deena, even. And he touched me – there, I mean. We heard someone coming and he moved away from me and made like it was a joke. Nothing else ever happened between us, but…”

“But you wished it had,” I finished off for him. “And you wondered what it would be like, to hold another man’s cock, to suck it, to feel him inside you…”

“Stop!” he cried, looking horrified. But I felt excited. My cock was pressing hard against my pants, and I knew without doubt that I was going to have Mikey before the day was out. I asked him, as I had before, if he wanted to come back to my home. He stared into his lap. “I don’t know. My buddies are expecting me to be here.” He took a deep breath, then half-whispered, “It’s not right. What you did to me at the movie theatre – what we did – it’s just not right.”

I slipped my hand up his leg, to the top of his thigh. Leaning as close to him as I dared in public, I murmured, “But you did like it. Didn’t you?” The outer edge of my little finger was actually touching his groin. I pressed it against him, stroking it up and down his erection.

He nodded miserably, and whispered, “You know I did. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

I gave him a little smile. Finishing my schnapps, I said, “I’m going to go back to my apartment now, to relax. I’ll walk slowly. Wiedersehen.” With that I rose and walked to the door, glancing back once at him, coquettishly, over my shoulder. I waited at the street corner, my heart thumping – and sure enough, after ten seconds, he emerged. I waited until he’d spotted me then casually strolled towards my home, glancing back occasionally to make sure he was still there. It was the exact reverse of the situation two weeks earlier – except that this time I knew he was following me, and he knew where I was leading him. At my apartment building I left the street door open and waited at the turn of the stairs. Moments later I heard the door swing closed, and a heavy tread begin to climb after me. Tingling with arousal, I carried on to my place and waited in the doorway until I saw Mikey come round the top of the stairs.

I love that thrill of anticipation when I know I’m about to enjoy a new lover. The moment Mikey entered my apartment I spontaneously threw my arms around him and kissed him on the lips, like his football friend had. His eyes widened in surprise but, after a moment, he seemed to relax. His eyes flickered shut, his arms moved hesitatingly around me, and he pushed onto me as I pressed my thigh to his groin. I even got my tongue between his lips, licking along his gleaming white teeth. Reluctantly breaking the kiss I led him into the lounge and pointed to the couch. “Take a seat and I’ll get you a drink.”

I had liberated the couch from a bombsite in the city. It had cleaned up well, and a seamstress friend had made cushion covers for me, to hide the blood stains. Mikey sat delicately, at first, then eased back into the seat. I handed him a shot of bourbon then sat beside him. I casually lay my arm along the back of the couch and drew small circles on the back of his neck with my fingertips. He shuddered and took a long sip of bourbon. Then he leant forward and placed the glass carefully on my low coffee table. Straightening up, he said, “Look, Rainer, I think…” That was when I kissed him again. I didn’t want my beautiful GI lover to think, not at that moment. Thinking was dangerous, I just wanted him to act, to follow his animal instincts.

I pulled him to me and ran a hand through his hair. He hugged me in return, and he allowed my tongue into his mouth, exploring his own; but he still seemed tense and uncertain. I broke the kiss and, stroking his cheek with my fingertips, I murmured “Would you like to take a shower, liebling?” He nodded hesitantly.

I waited until I heard the water running, then I quickly stripped and entered the bathroom. As I slipped into the tiny shower stall behind him my stiff cock brushed against his naked buttock. He jumped, and gasped, “Oh God.” Before he could react any further I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me again. He had a hairy body, and I adore hairy men. With one hand I tweaked one of his nipples between my fingers; with the other I massaged his public hair, inches from his quickly hardening dick. I pressed my lips to his throat, kissing and nibbling his flesh. Surrendering to what his body was feeling he pushed back onto me, my rod nestling between the cheeks of his ass. I badly wanted to fuck this boy; but there was something else I wanted to do first – something I had wanted to do that night in the kino.

I dropped to my knees and, reaching between his legs, cupped his furry balls in my hand. Then I licked up the length of his ass crack. He groaned and pushed his ass back at me, now totally mine. Placing my hands on his hips I turned him to face me, then stroked my tongue the length of his dick, the underside. He groaned again and leaned back against the shower wall, thrusting his cock at me. I sucked his balls, lavishing them with my tongue, then closed my lips over his searing hot cock. I stroked my mouth up and down it, lapping my tongue around and around him and pumping the base with finger and thumb. With my other hand I kneaded his sweet, muscular ass, then worked two fingers into him, fucking him with them in time with the passage of my lips along his shaft. He seemed to swell even more in my mouth, and he began to gasp, over and over, his hips twitching back and forth as I played him with my lips, tongue and fingers. His cock twitched a couple of times against my palate, then I felt an ocean of spunk erupt into my mouth.

I kept sucking him until he finished and slumped against the shower wall. Then I stood and hugged him to me, kissing him. I had kept some of his juice on my tongue and spread it around his mouth – I wanted him to get used to the taste of it. He seemed a little dazed, but smiled shyly when I broke our kiss. He was wet from the shower, but I thought it was a tear he brushed from his eye. I rubbed some soap onto my fingers and slipped them up his ass again, making quite sure he would be nice and clean for me. Then I soaped his fingers and eased them up my own ass. He seemed a little unsure at first, but soon started squirming them around inside me in a very pleasurable way.

After we showered I dried him, giving plenty of friction to his cock and ass, then laid him on my bed. I feasted my eyes on his solid, hairy brown body as I quickly dried myself. Mikey seemed to have lost his initial shyness, and leaned up on his elbows, taking in my leaner, very pale torso, hairless apart from the blond sprig above my cock. When I joined him on the bed he showed his commitment by wrapping his muscular arms around me and pulling me to him. We kissed tenderly at first, but I gradually increased both the pressure of my lips on his and the passion of our kiss as I rolled him onto his back. I felt a small frisson of triumph as Mikey’s tongue pressed eagerly into my mouth, and I sucked greedily on it. I felt his hand trail down my body, then his knuckles brushed my prick – the first time he’d touched me. Moments later his strong, warm fingers wrapped around it. Pulling away from his lips, I stroked his face and whispered, “Mikey, liebling, why don’t you suck me?”

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