Date: Mon, 28 Jan 2002 03:58:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Europa 7

Europa 7


By Bald Hairy Man

Email, bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com, The Excite address doesn't
work any more.

This is an adult story for adults. It is not intended for minors, nor for
persons who are offended by alternate life styles. If you are offended,
Don't Read the story! There is no effort expended to make this story
realistic or depict safe sex practices. This story is a fantasy, not a sex
manual.


I told Wolfie the Gestapo's plans before I left the Chateau. He would
inform the General. Wolfie told me the General's first instincts were
always to save himself. He would be worried about being sent to the Russian
front. He would have no interest in saving Frenchmen from deportation to
Germany. Wolfie said, however, he would do what he could, but the Gestapo
probable knew more about him than was healthy and any help would be
limited.

I went home. It was three in the morning and my Aunt was awake.

"I was afraid they had arrested you." she said.

"Why would they do that?" I asked.

"I know all about the Jews and the people from Paris. If I could figure it
out, they can!" she said.  She was angry. Fortunately she was angry I
hadn't confided in her. No one despised the Nazi's, or their Vichy lap
dogs, more than she. I told her what I had discovered about the
deportations.  I was trying to figure out how to get the word out. She
burst out laughing.

"Dear Jean, " she said, "you know I am a virtuous woman, upright in every
way. I do have one vice. Your mother, may she rest in eternal peace,
scolded me about it for years. I am a gossip. I talk to other gossips and
we make life difficult for some people who deserve it and some who do not,
I am afraid. I will get the word out. Everyone in the town will know by
noon! Unless they don't associate with women. I will leave that up to you."

"You know about that too?" I asked.

"It runs in the family, Dear Jean. It runs in the family." My Aunt had
never married and suddenly I understood. I went to bed feeling good.

The next day was filled with activity. We had a new shipment from the
Museum. Bronze Age pots and homosexual set designers from the Left Bank. I
saw the Prefect of Police on the street and informed him of the problem in
the radio department of the Gendarmerie.  I spoke in very guarded terms,
but he understood. He had already got wind of the deportations. My Aunt was
as efficient as always.

Otto came by the museum and wanted to go looking for a cave in which to
store his paintings. He had an assistant with him, Willie. Max was driving
the car.  I took them to the Elk cave that was in the opposite direction
out of town from the Blue Bear Cave.  The Elk Cave was just as secluded as
the other, but was high on the side of a cliff, cool and dry.  Otto was
very satisfied.  We returned to town and went to Otto's hotel suite.

I wanted to get back to the museum, but I promised to come by after diner
to have a drink and reminisce. When I got back to the museum, the German
soldiers had been called back to the Chateau. The General was expecting an
important visitor and there had to be an honor guard.  This was a stroke of
luck for us.

Emile was there, but he was worried.  The set designers didn't inspire
confidence in their ability to climb over a mountain. I felt the same way,
but Louis had good judgment and I assumed they would make it.

I went home and found a note from my Aunt, saying she had gone to the
Convent of the Sacre Coeur and would be back the in the morning.  My Aunt
was a pillar of Calvinist rectitude and I was puzzled. Then I remembered
the nuns were teachers in the village's schools.  They could warn their
students.

I returned to the hotel and had dinner with Otto and Willie. Otto was
gracious, but uneasy. Willie was a classic German flunky. He idolized Otto
and did his bidding, but never criticized or analyzed. Willie specialized
in fawning admiration. Otto needed help. He was tormented by nightmare
visions of Germany destroyed and Dresden burning. He was desperate to save
anything he could testifying to the scholarly and cultured Germany he loved
and the Nazi's ruined.

At this point of the war it was hard to credit his fears. The Nazis were
triumphant on all fronts. I tried to reassure him, to no avail. Wolfie
appeared after dinner. We went to Otto's suite and had a drink. Otto was in
the Bridal suite.  A Nazi official was in the Royal suite.  The Bridal
suite was furnished in pink and white and Otto looked incongruous in the
ultra feminine interior. I thought that conversation with Otto and me was
Wolfie's objective for the visit. It took me only a few minutes to realize
Willie was the prize.

Wolfie whispered to me he had given Willie a trial run the day before and
thought the young man had potential.  "He's inexperienced, but liked
anything I tried." I hadn't looked at Willie again. I am not attracted to
servile men and hadn't considered him as a sexual partner.

Willie was perhaps 25, average in height and weight with a slight tendency
to be pudgy. He looked soft. He had dark brown hair and a small
mustache. It seemed odd Wolfie was still hunting for men in the middle of a
war, then I remembered the night before with Max, Hans and me behind the
tapestry. I was fucking for France. I smiled at the thought.

"You look happy, Jean." Otto said. "It is good to see you again. I feel
much better."

"Even in wartime. old friends are still friends." I said. He put his arms
around me and gave me a bear hug. I had been careful about drinking, but no
one else was. Soon we were in the bedroom.  Otto and I were sucking each
other. He had lost a lot of weight and this made his cock seem larger. I
was curiously exited. I didn't know you could feel nostalgia sucking cock.

It was wonderful to be sucking his cock tasting his cock dribble.  For a
moment I was back fifteen years, tasting his cock for the first time. I
felt the same excitement. Wolfie and Willie entered the room.

"May we join you on the bed?" Wolfie asked. Otto climaxed. He ejaculated a
rich creamy load into my mouth. I ate every drop.

"Please do." Otto said. "Willie is a nice boy."

"Is it all right, Herr Professor?" Willie asked.

"Of course, Wolfie and Jean are dear friends. We have always been very
open." Otto said. "There is no combination of cock, ass or mouth we haven't
explored freely." I was still sucking the seed from Otto's cock, so I could
confirm that.

Willie was more than willing to join in. Willingness and enthusiasm were
his strong suit. He and Otto had a teacher-student fantasy in which Otto
gave him sex lessons and Willie complied. Willie was a pure bottom, a sex
toy. He just wanted to give pleasure. He wasn't muscular at all, except in
his throat and ass.

I wasn't sure I wanted to play with Willie, but changed my mind. Wolfie
fucked him, as Otto gave instructions. Otto told Wolfie where to poke and
how to turn on Willie. I was holding Willie in my arms while Wolfie poked.
Then Otto got him to pull out, so he could demonstrate good fucking
technique.  Willie loved Otto's cock in his ass. Actually Willie liked it
all. Wolfie traded places with Otto again and returned to plowing Willie's
ass.

Much to my surprise. Wolfie shot off after only a few minutes. Otto
reentered the willing man's ass as soon as Wolfie finished shooting.  Otto
pulled out shortly and was dripping. At first I thought it was Wolfie's
cum, but Otto's cock twitched and a bead of cum emerged from Otto's slit
and fell to the floor. It remained connected to the cock by a filament of
cum. His cock twitched a second time and the blob stayed on the head.  Both
men had unloaded. I got into fucking position.

The second my cock head penetrated Willie's sphincter I knew why Wolfie
popped. Willie's ass was a wonder, hot juicy and willing. He was really
tight, even with all the man cream lubricating his ass. Willie undulated
his ass and rectum so his tunnel massaged my cock. Both Otto and Wolfie
were good sized men, but my big meat gave him a jolt when I went deep. A
welcome jolt, it seemed.

Willie had remarkable control over the muscles in his ass. At first I felt
as if I were being milked, then he seemed to caress my cock with his
rectum. It was a new and very enjoyable feeling. I understood why Wolfie
and Otto popped so quickly. Willie changed to the doggy style position so
he could lick the cum from Wolfie and Otto's cocks while I fucked. This
took some of the pressure off my cock and I spent a long while in his
ass. By the time I shot off, Wolfie was ready to go again.


We had several hours of this mindless fun. I returned to my cold house and
slept as soundly as I had in months. My Aunt was back at seven and she was
enraged. The Master of Notre Dame College had refused to send any of his
older students into hiding or to Switzerland. Father DeMoulin firmly
believed the Nazis and Vichy were the proper antidotes to the communist and
the traitor Petain had France's best interests at heart. The College was a
school for boys, many of the students were orphans. The Master even said he
hoped some of the boys would join the Germans to fight the Russians.

My Aunt had been trying to convince the nuns to intervene on the boys'
behalf. She believed that strong willed women could change the mind of
Father DeMoulin. "The Mother Superior is an absolute fool!" my aunt
ranted. "An idiot! She said the good Father knew what was best for his
boys! "

My Aunt was a staunch Calvinist and I had wondered if she would have any
influence on the nuns.  She was very forceful and must have thought her own
decisiveness would carry the day. She was wrong. She was still ranting when
Emile returned from the cave.

"They are all safe." he said. "The mountains were filled with men, alone or
in small groups heading towards Switzerland. We spent half of the trip
hiding from them. We thought they were Germans."

"Your party looked as if they were weak." I said.

"It was rough for them, but I didn't hear a word of complaint. One said,
he'd rather freeze to death here, than die in a concentration camp." Emile
replied. My Aunt then went over her struggles with the Master of the Notre
Dame College.

"If they go to Germany they will never return, you know that, don't you?"
Emile said.

"Of course I know that!" snapped my Aunt. "It's a death sentence. I don't
know what to do!"  This was a unusual confession for my Aunt. She always
knew what to do. I went off to the museum and soon was totally immersed in
my work. I was filling my museum with art from Paris museums, while I
prepared a space to store German art work, while helping people escape to
Switzerland.

Agreeing to store Otto's paintings was a brilliant move on my part. The
General and Wolfie let me move freely and without surveillance. Even the
Gestapo was pulled off. The General let the local Gestapo leader "discover"
I was working for him and high ranking officials of the Reich. The fool got
the impression I was smuggling valuable objects into the vaults of
Switzerland, to serve as safety net should the officials need to flee.

The General also launched a campaign to get his own troops into better
shape. Drills and training sessions, as well as parades and reviews, became
an almost daily feature of his troops' lives. Every soldier drilling wasn't
watching the border. The German love of order was such that no one guessed
the General's true objective.

A week later, the General was called back to Berlin and two days later, a
contingent of SS Troopers arrived. By then a good portion of the men of the
town had vanished. Old men and cripples such as myself were there, as well
as the non-believers. Some men felt their support for the traitors at Vichy
would protect them against deportation. It didn't and I found myself hoping
they would suffer the consequences of their foolish fantasies.

The troopers tried to find out who was missing, but the records at the
Gendarmerie were in a horrible state. The man in charge of them, who had
also been the radio officer, had died in a freak fire. He had put gasoline
instead of kerosene into a space heater and had been blown up. All the
records were either burned or water soaked in the disaster. I had new
respect for the Prefect of Police. Ruthlessness is a virtue in wartime.

At the end of the week the older students of the Sacre Coeur College were
paraded into town by Father DeMoulin to volunteer for work in Germany. The
good father had coerced them of course.  My aunt was in daily communication
with several of the Nuns who were their teachers and knew all about
it. There was a bus in front of the Hotel de Ville and about a dozen
troopers.  Most of the troopers had been sent off to the next town, since
there had been so few suitable males here.  The head of the Gestapo was to
welcome the students to the service of the Reich in their anti-Communist
crusade.

There was a considerable crowd gathered. Most were dumfounded by the
treachery and ignorance of Father DeMoulin. Most of the boys were between
16 and 18 and were orphans or the sons of parents who had disappeared or
been lost in the Fall of France. The crowd was sullen. I was watching with
helpless horror from the window of my office facing the square.

Father DeMoulin was well known for his pedantic nature and the length of
his sermons. He gave a speech that went on for a half hour. By that time
the crowd grew considerably and I could feel the tension in the
air. DeMoulin finished and the Gestapo Officer rose to speak. As he did, a
strong but very out of tune voice in the crowd began to sing the
Marseillaise. It took me a second, but I realized it was my Aunt.

The troopers immediately raced to find the voice. Several others in the
crowd joined in.

"Escape my Boys! Run to safety!" someone screamed. From my vantage point I
could see it was one of the nuns. There was pandemonium.  Rocks and
vegetables were thrown. The crowd surged forward and obstructed the
troopers trying to find my Aunt. The boys in the center of the square
vanished into the crowd.

I rushed downstairs to get my Aunt, but encountered six boys trying to
escape. I took them to a secret compartment. Emile was there, having
delivered several Jewish intellectuals the day before.  He took the boys
under his wing and spirited them off to safety. I heard gunshots.  Wolfie
appeared with a platoon of heavily armed men.

He rounded up the troopers and the Gestapo agent and was giving them a
dressing down as only an aristocratic Prussian officer could do.

"You are idiots! Fools! A disgrace to Germany and the Third Reich! You
parade into the middle of town and you cause a riot! Then you let them all
escape! I will report your gross malfeasance to the highest authorities!"
screamed Wolfie. He was beating them with his riding crop, ranting,
insulting and incidentally letting the boys escape. He must have gone on
for ten minutes. I hadn't guessed Wolfie was a good actor. He was
completely believable as an officer enraged at the conduct of his troops.

I could hear him screaming in the background as I searched for my Aunt. The
square was a mess with rocks and debris everywhere. Most had left. There
was no sign of my Aunt. I assumed she had escaped. A nun peaked out from a
shuttered butcher's shop.

"She's here!" she whispered. Inside, my aunt was lying on the floor in a
pool of blood, with massive bleeding from her head. She had been struck by
a rife butt.  "I think her skull is crushed."  the butcher, M. DeJardin,
said. "If only M. Dreyfus was here, there would be a chance."

My Aunt's eyes opened. "That German officer told me they all got away." she
whispered. "Is it true?"

"Yes. They all escaped." I said. She smiled, closed her eyes and died.

Mme DeJardin raced down the stairs from their apartment above with towels
and bandages.  It was too late. We all stood in silence as the nun, Sister
Helenne, said prayers.

"A true hero." the butcher's daughter said.  "She was like Joan of Arc".

"Thank God that Boche Officer was so stupid. If he hadn't stopped the
troopers, they'd have rounded them up again." the butcher said. "It was a
miracle."  A Gendarme appeared with a doctor. A minute later the Prefect
arrived. He took one look at her.

"She died instantly?" he asked.

"No, she lived until I told her the boys had escaped." I said.

"That is why she is smiling?" the Prefect asked. I looked at her. Mme
DeJardin had washed her face. There was a look of almost serene
satisfaction on it and a hint of a smile.

"Yes, M. Le Prefect."

"A brave woman." he said. "We can have no public funeral, no mention in the
papers. The Germans are so embarrassed they would rather not let word of
this event get out. If we keep everything quiet, there is a chance the boys
will make it to Switzerland. That is agreeable?" I agreed.

"She deserves a hero's funeral!" Mme DeJardin objected.

"It is more important to save the living, than to bury the dead." I
said. We buried her in an unmarked grave in the yard beside the Protestant
church the next night. It was only me, the DeJardins, the Pastor and the
grave diggers in attendance. After the funeral, I went to the mountains to
find Emile and the boys.

I got to the Blue Bear Cave and there was no sign of human activity
there. Emile was a master of disguise. He told me the set designers and had
given him some good ideas about camouflage. I slipped into the cave and got
to the inner compartment and still hadn't found anyone. I decided to look
in the pool.

Emile and two boys were soaking in the hot water.

"Jean, it's good to see you? What happened in town?"Emile asked. I told
him.

"She was brave. She died well. What more can you ask for in these times?"
he said.

"Where are the rest of the boys?" I asked.

"In Switzerland." he said. "Very easy passage. The Swiss are a lot better
about Gentiles than they are about Jews. We picked up six more as we left
town, so we saved a total of 12. 14 if you count the boys I kept for
myself.  Meet Georges and Jules."

They stood and shook hands. They were naked and half erect. This didn't
bother either of them.  George was thin, dark and tall with a long cock and
the beginnings of a hairy chest.  Jules was shorter, heavier but muscular
with a down of hair thickening at his chest. Muscles were beginning to
dominate the baby fat. His cock and balls were compact and held tight to
his body. He would have a wrestler's body when he was fully grown.

Jules was Alsatian and spoke fluent French and German. George may well have
come from the South, perhaps Provence. They seemed pleasant and very
happy. I stripped and joined them in the pool. They both seemed to admire
my cock.

"The boys and I discovered a common interest. The good Father was sending
them off to Germany because they were orphans and were caught experimenting
sexually. When we got all of the boys over the border, they wanted to come
back with me. The Father liked to humiliate them by telling all of the
other students what they had done. I agreed to bring them back." Emile
said.  "We discovered we shared the same interests and have been exploring
them."

"That is fine, but this isn't a hotel. We'll need to find a permanent place
for them." I said. George was playing with my cock. Something about the way
he did it made me think that their experimentation had been extensive and
successful.

"You are wrong. This is a hotel. We have people here all the time.  It
would be good to have someone here keeping it nice and prepared." Emile
said. "Jules is familiar with this sort of area and Georges worked for his
parents in a small hotel in Nice.  They are hard working and sensible
boys." I was afraid Emile was infatuated with the young men. That might
have been true, but he was a good judge of character too.  The boys became
invaluable as they maintained the cave.

The school had been prison like and they had been abused for their sexual
preferences. Emile and the cave represented liberation for them. All their
sexual activity had been with each other and they weren't
experienced. Emile was nothing if not experienced and liked to teach.  They
were willing students. In the three days they had been together, Emile had
introduced them to the joys of oral and anal sex. As far as I could tell,
they took to man sex as a duck to water.

They weren't at all like Willie, Otto's flunky. They were sex partners, not
sex toys. An hour after we met, I was sucking Jules and Georges worked his
cock into my ass. I would have complained, if it hadn't felt so good.