Date: Fri, 6 Aug 2004 09:49:43 -0400
From: carl5de@netscape.net
Subject: OUT OF THE RUBBLE-8

OUT OF THE RUBBLE - 8

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 8

(Revisiting the End of Part 7)

Yes, Bleib du im ew'gen Leben
     |:Mein guter Kamerad':|

(Continuing our Story: Seventeen!)

Perspiring heavily, Andreas and Rolf relaxed, sitting side by side on a
rough bench in the attic "Exercise Club."  The late spring sun had warmed
the attic to the point where the inhabitants of Sam's House wryly commented
that an exercise session brought a free benefit, a sauna!  Legs resting
casually apart, they simply allowed the sweat to run off their hard, naked
bodies.  Every few minutes, one or the other would violently shake his head
which, of course, resulted in a shower for his friend - and the explosion
of a few mandatory expletives.

Andreas is well known to the readers of this story: Nearly 17; "Classic" in
his beauty; soft, light brown hair; intense blue eyes; a relatively
hairless, muscular torso with heavy shoulder and upper arm muscles, sharply
defined abs, a drum-tight stomach, a pronounced pelvic girdle, and a tight,
muscular (but not overly narrow) waist; a thick cock, 5.5"/7", that flowed
from a bush of the lightest brown hair; a long hairless scrotum that hung
low and held two ping-pong sized balls; the classic "V" of his back with
its ridges of muscle protecting the spine; beautifully muscled, dimpled
buttocks; legs of strength and almost painful beauty - the thighs heavily
muscled and almost smooth; lightly furred, well-rounded, muscular calves;
feet and toes that would have graced a Grecian statue; skin that seemed to
glow from within as does the finest marble; perhaps 5'-9", and 165 lbs.

His friend Rolf was also nearly 17 (born, in fact, on the same July day as
Andreas, though in a small village near Tieferwald rather than deep in the
forests of Slovakia); somewhat more rugged in his looks than Andreas, but
still decidedly handsome; jet black hair; green eyes flecked with gold; a
highly defined, relatively smooth, but slightly less muscular torso with an
impressive six-pak and a muscled stomach; moderately heavy hair in his
pits, the genital area, and on his calves - less on his thighs, butt, and
between his sculpted pecs; a fine cock, 7"/8", with a heavy black bush; a
rounded scrotum that held two large balls and seemed to "present" his cock
in an eternal half-erection; a beautifully muscled back flowing from nice
shoulders and descending in a classic "V" to a tight, narrow waist and a
perfectly rounded butt; powerful, somewhat sinewy legs and calves; perhaps
a shade under 6', and 170 lbs.

"Rolf," Andreas continued, wiping the sweat from his face, "We've just GOT
to get ourselves back into shape!  We're not in the panzers or back in the
forests any more.  Besides, I just heard something very interesting from
Sam."

"I kinda thought we WERE in pretty good shape, Andreas.  Why the big push?"
Rolf asked wearily.  "And what's this 'very interesting' something?"

Ignoring Rolf's minor protest, Andreas continued, "Well, Sam told me that
he, a URA type, and a few Army buddies are going down to Salzburg for a
week in July.  Seems that one of his Army buddies has some friends who are
stationed down in southern Bavaria...in the foothills of the Alps.  That's
real sports country, Rolf - winter AND summer.  Evidently, they'd be
willing to set up a canoeing trip for the two of us, were we interested.
And Sam said that it could be a birthday present!"

"If we are interested?!  A birthday present?!  HOLY SHIT!  Oh, man, I can
see myself in that canoe...crashing my way through white water...just
missing that last fuckin' boulder...slidin' across the finish line, raising
my paddle in vic-to-ry!  YEAH!"  Rolf's back slumped against the wall, his
legs spread slightly, his arms flung high into the air.

Rolf's little pantomime brought a big grin from Andreas.  "Slow down,
Fraeulein!" he commanded.  With our great canoeing skills, Sam would never
let us anywhere near white water, but we sure as hell would have one
excellent camping trip in some unbelievable country!  What do you say?"

Rolf answered by giving Andreas another bath, rising wheezingly to his
feet, turning up the screw on a piece of real torture equipment, and
throwing himself into hard work for another half hour.  Finally exhausted,
he walked over to Andreas, slapped his butt, and rested his hands on his
buddy's shoulders as they marched single-file down the narrow stairs
towards the showers.

(The Birthday Party)

Soaking up the July sun, Andreas and Rolf lay silently on the grass at the
rear of their home.  How could they not think of where they had been on
their sixteenth birthdays...only one year previously.  Andreas shuddered as
he remembered still being on his trek in the country south of
Tieferwald...in rags, exhausted, footsore, starving, and fast approaching
the moment when all hope is lost.  Rolf remembered spending his sixteenth
in a Kriegsgefangen-Zusammensetzung [P.O.W. compound], hoping that he would
soon be transferred to a P.O.W. Discharge Camp.  True, exactly as Hitler
had promised, he was "slender and supple, fast as a greyhound, tough as
leather, and hard as Krupp steel...brutal, domineering, fearless, [and]
cruel." Recently, he had begun to discover that he had been cruelly
shortchanged - and that people such as Sam, Ehrhardt, and Andreas could be
trusted to lead him out of the hell into which he had been thrust.

Suddenly, the back door of the house burst open and a crowd of teens shot
out onto the lawn.  As one might guess, enthusiasm was high, for, next to
Sam and Sargent Ehrhardt, Andreas and Rolf were clearly favorites among the
boys.  A new Alsatian puppy scampered around everyone's legs, yapping,
whining, and licking.  Strange...  When Andreas had originally told Sam
that the boys had insisted on naming him "Blondi," Sam only shook his head
in mock defeat and moaned, "Don't tell me anything more!"  Nor could anyone
understand on meeting their new four-legged house mate and learning his
name why two American officers had nearly rolled on the floor...in
laughter.  He was such a great pup - even if he had piddled on one of the
officer's shoes!  Clearly, he was at it again.  As Frau Luisa approached a
table set up in the middle of the yard, he ran straight between her legs
and nearly upset her and the birthday cake she was carrying.  The Lord only
knows where she had obtained the ingredients for that cake!  Inasmuch as
there was only enough for a 1-inch (2.54 cm) square piece for each boy,
believe that there wasn't a smidgen of chocolate or a crumb in evidence
after it had been quickly inhaled!

At that point, Sam appeared with a large box of balloons that had been
donated to him by someone at the PX.  Everyone received a few with orders
to make "creative" gifts for Andreas and Rolf.  In later years, Sam allowed
that he was glad he had never gotten into Freudian analysis.  Still, it was
true that the results of their "balloon craft" were pretty suggestive!  As
usual, some carried things a little too far!  Little Wolfgang, for
instance, found a pair of bright pink balloons, inflated them, and tied
them to his chest.  Unfortunately, as Frau Luisa chased him around the yard
with her broom, shouting that his new pink boobs had to go, he couldn't get
them off!  Not long after that, Horst had sided up to Andreas and promised
him that he had a "real" gift which he would give him "later."

As the afternoon wound down, the boys joked quietly with their friends, on
occasion blushing as it was suggested that had they developed any further,
they might never have fit into a canoe and, if they had fit, they might
have crashed through the bottom!  Finally, Andreas and Rolf sat talking
with one of the noncoms from the Base.  When they met the next day, the
Sargent promised to drive them over to one of the small streams that fed
into the River Main and check them out on a canoe.  He would also advise
them on needed equipment as they prepared for their canoeing and camping
adventure.

"Will we be ready for a little white water?" asked the ever-hopeful Rolf.

"Not on your life!" the GI replied.  "Sam would have my balls!  Beyond the
basics, I have to check you out on some safety tips.  Don't worry; I know
this country.  You'll never forget the trip!"

The boys grimaced...before turning away and grinning widely at each other.

(Final Preparations)

The canoe checks had gone well a couple of days ago, for the boys were both
natural athletes.  Also, they had accepted the fact that activities beyond
a beginner's range were simply not going to happen.  Their equipment was
piled below ready for packing into Sam's jeep in the morning.  (They would
pick up their canoe when they reached Sam's friends' camp south of Munich.)
Having completed their last exercise sets, they had cleaned up and were
sitting in Andreas's room excitedly comparing notes.

Looking at Rolf in a calculating manner, Andreas suddenly said, "You not
only have a lot of hair on you, Rolf, but you sweat like a stuck pig.  Even
where we're going to be, it's going to be hot on the water.  With all that
we face, I think the hair had better go - for hygienic reasons, if nothing
else.  Believe me, you'll feel a lot better. Any problem with that?"

Rolf gulped, but surrendered to apparently superior wisdom.  (The deeply
ingrained habit of following orders without question dies only slowly.)
Recovering slightly, he mumbled, "Dammit, Andreas!  Can't I keep the hair
on my head?"

     "Yeah, I can't quite see you bald at seventeen," Andreas answered,
grinning at Rolf's wry look.  "Ok, slip out of your clothes again, hop up
on the bed, and I'll get some gear."  Moments later, he returned with some
large towels, clippers, bowl, a hand towel, a large can of shaving cream, a
mean looking strop, and a straight razor.  Andreas smiled down at Rolf who
lay on his stomach on the towels, relaxed and seemingly enjoying an
additional break.  "I'm going to run the clippers down your back, friend.
They're faster and easier."  Running his hand over Rolf's V-shaped back,
Andreas found light hair both there and on his rounded, strongly muscled
buttocks.  The hair quickly disappeared; a little razor work saw to the
stubble.  "The next few moments are going to be a little uncomfortable,
Rolf.  Sorry..." he exclaimed.  The clippers made short work of the
jet-black hair in Rolf's crack.  Andreas then rubbed a little shaving cream
into the small amount of stubble that remained and completed the job with
his razor.  When his finger grazed Rolf's pucker, the boy started, but
quickly released his breath and unclinched his muscles.  "That'a boy,"
Andreas praised him.  Hair on the boy's perineum disappeared as the razor
continued its downward journey.  As Rolf tightened up again, but quickly
relaxed, Andreas rested his hand on the youngster's shoulder, murmuring
quietly, "Well done."  Gazing down the boy's body, he saw that there was a
goodly amount of hair on the back of Rolf's thighs and on his calves, but
the clippers made short work of it.

"You ready to turn over?" Andreas asked.  Noticing that Rolf's ears and the
back of his neck had turned bright red, he laughed and said lightly, "Don't
worry.  It happens to all of us.  Relax for a few seconds more."  He softly
massaged the top of Rolf's shoulders and the back of his neck until the
youngster nodded and began to turn over.  At that point, as one might
guess, the nature of the "problem" became obvious.  To make matters worse,
Rolf's cock, which had been deflating, suddenly bobbed twice, stiffened,
significantly lengthened and thickened, and snapped rigidly back against
his stomach - all 8+ inches of it!  More than ever before, it was obvious
that Rolf was built like a young stallion!  For a few minutes, the two
friends sat with their foreheads nearly touching as Andreas attempted to
ease Rolf's utter mortification.  Finally, Rolf grinned weakly and said,
"I'm ok.  Let's finish the job."

The thick underarm hair was cleared, and then a few hairs between the pecs,
and a few more on the stomach.  Jokingly, Andreas put his hand over Rolf's
eyes, chortled, "Don't look," and continued.  Leaving only a thin crown of
dark hair immediately above his cock, the clippers made quick work of the
boy's heavy pubes as well as hair on his legs and feet.  All that was left,
beyond some stubble, was a little hair on Rolf's cock and scrotum.  Using
his razor with great care, Andreas deftly lifted the youngster's cock and
shaved the heavy length of thick meat that more than filled his hand.
Then, grasping the heavy, compact scrotum and gently pulling it downwards,
he stretched the sack in several directions.  Quickly, he removed the
remaining hair safely and without further trauma to Rolf.  The stubble
followed in quick order once the razor has been briskly stropped.  The
relatively sparse, nearly colorless hairs on Rolf's forearms were left
untouched.  The task completed, the boy lay peacefully upon the bed, calm
and quiet as a statue on top of a sarcophagus, every muscle now open to
Andreas's gaze, every breath visibly lifting his proud chest, his body
classically perfect in its youth and in its symmetry.  Andreas gulped and
quietly adjusted his equipment.

"Now, good buddy, you are going to experience the reward reserved for those
who faithfully labor in the vineyard," Andreas announced from across the
room.

Rolf, sitting up on the bed, wasn't quite sure that completing an exercise
program and going along with a full-body shave qualified him as a "faithful
laborer," but he grinned and remained silent.  When the Andreas returned,
he carried an interesting looking bottle that proved to contain an aromatic
body oil, of the highest quality and warmed.  Signaling to Rolf that he
should lie down again, Andreas poured a small quantity into his cupped
hand, rubbed his hands lightly together, and began slowly to work it into
the boy's torso.

"The game here, Rolf," he murmured almost as if to himself; "is to bring a
warm glow to the skin without making it look oily."

Mesmerized by the combination of vapors and the feelings that seemed to be
stealing into his body through Andreas's fingers, Rolf could do no more
than quiver, partially raise one eyelid, and utter a soft "Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h"
by way of response.  Once carved of cool marble, his muscles slowly
surrendered to Andreas's ministrations, softening and gleaming with a warm
and golden light.  For uncounted minutes, Andreas's eyes gazed on something
of ultimate beauty.  Finally, trying unsuccessfully to find some moisture
in his parched mouth and throat that would allow him to swallow, Andreas
simply shuddered and returned to the everyday world.

Carefully concealing a growing wet spot on the front of his shorts, as well
as a tent that he had partially controlled by earlier donning a jockstrap,
Andreas had all that he could do to help his groggy friend to his feet,
give him a hug, and send him off to bed.  Would that he could have joined
him!  As it was, he was relieved soon thereafter to welcome Horst - and his
promised "gift."  Horst and Andreas did exchange gifts...gifts that put the
flavors of chocolate, vanilla, and sugar to shame.  ('Man, oh man,' Andreas
thought to himself afterwards, 'that boy has REALLY developed!')

(To Be Continued)