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While elements and scenes in this story are based in reality, all of the characters and activities herein described are 100% fictional, and the story is 100% mine - please don't reuse without permission. Constructive comments are welcome at RILOBO1@yahoo.com
Melting Pot - Chapter 11 by Rilobo1
The rest of the evening went by at a much more leisurely pace. I pulled out my iPhone, calling up the Domino's Pizza App, and I gave it to the boys to order what they wanted. This could've been a risky play, as both boys had grown up in culinary environments dissimilar to my own. While they were doing this, I "straightened" up the guest bedroom in case we had any unexpected visitors. When the large pizza arrived, I was pleased to see extra cheese, pepperoni and mushrooms. As soon as the delivery girl left, they immediately shucked off their clothes; as "nakey" was now the new normal in my home -- as long as pajamas were in easy reach. I followed suit without any prompting from the boys. They wanted to finish the Marvel movie we had abandoned the night before, and after retrieving a roll of paper towels, attacked the pizza. I was glad the pizza had cooled down a bit, because both boys were known to be messy eaters, and it might have been difficult explaining cheese burns on boy bits to their parents. It turned out to be a rather prophetic thought, as Alex dropped his slice of pizza directly onto his crotch as just that moment. He picked it up, looked up at me with sad little puppy dog eyes, and asked "would you please clean me up daddy?" Playing along, I bent over, and licked the sauce and a mushroom from his nether regions. Of course, Jason also had to have the same "accident," so I helped him out too.
As we were watching the movie, both Jason and Alex moved closer to my side, ending up snuggling up to me with an arm around each of them; it was so sweet. By the time the credits were rolling, both the boys were starting to nod off, but fighting the urge to sleep until all of the credits had rolled because Stan Lee ALWAYS had a final gift for those moviegoers who would watch the credits. I then rustled both of them up, told them to take their pajamas, brush their teeth, and run along to bed. They did just as asked -- mostly -- as they completely bypassed the guest room, and piled up in my bed while I was doing my nightly ablutions. Jason was already out cold and sprawled out on the left side of the bed, but Alex hung on to alertness long enough to give me a kiss, tell me he loved me, and weave his limbs into my limbs before falling asleep. I suppose Jason subconsciously felt the body heat, and soon was plastered to my other side. Sleep claimed me soon after, and sweet dreams followed with my boys at my sides.
Saturday mornings are holy to me, and as such, any early plans are religiously avoided. Fate, however, does not always agree with our firmest convictions, and thus loud noises outside at 8:30 AM rousted all of us rather rudely. I put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, and asked the boys to put on their pajamas before going outside to investigate. We walked out onto the veranda, and saw the IKEA furniture delivery truck with its crew busily and noisily hauling box upon box of what looked like brand new furniture upstairs, delivering all to apartment 5, which had been vacant for the last two months. Standing next to the delivery truck was a young boy talking to someone on a cell phone. His high pitched voice carried over the din, and I quickly made out that he was speaking German. Oh, I haven't told you this, but I was a foreign exchange student in Germany during high school, and as such, can speak nearly fluent German -- in fact, most of my customers are in Germany, The little boy was talking with his mother, and from what I overheard, was telling her that the furniture delivery men were there, and that he missed her very much, and couldn't wait until she was able to join him and his papa in America. I took quick measure of his appearance: he appeared to be around 12 years old, quite tall but rather thin, with blond hair and blue eyes. Though he was tall, it didn't seem from his voice or build that puberty's kiss had not yet visited him. Alex and Jason looked up at me with questioning eyes, and I brought them quickly up to date with all the intelligence I had gathered so far -- which was pretty much only that he spoke German, His mom is in Germany, and the boy and his papa were our new neighbors.
The boys were stoked at having a new potential friend in the building, but simultaneously concerned that he might not speak English. I just smiled at them, telling them that wouldn't be a problem. Most German children learn a great deal of English growing up, and if he hadn't, the new neighbor would quickly catch up. At that moment, the boy started walking toward the staircase. He nicked his head toward us and smiled, and I said to him "Hallo junger Mann! Ich erwaehne dass du unser neuer Nachbar bist. Ich heisse Mister Rich." (Hello young man! I'm guessing that you are our new neighbor. My name is Mister Rich). All three boys snapped their heads up to me with shock in their eyes. Jason and Alex had never heard me speak anything but English, and I could only imagine what was going through the young German's mind. Most Germans are well and truly shocked when they run across an American that speaks German. This fact was very helpful during my time in and many trips to Germany: I was given many meals by curious and shocked strangers who couldn't believe it. There is a common joke in Germany: a person who speaks three languages is trilingual, a person who speaks two languages is bilingual, and a person who speaks one language is American.
I turned to Jason and Alex and translated what I had just said, but the new boy just dashed up the stairs yelling in German "Papa! Papa! Our new neighbor downstairs speaks German!" About this time, Halmoni poked her head outside the door to see what all the commotion was about, followed by Jin Woo. I asked him how his headache was, and he thanked me, telling me that it was much better after a peaceful and restful night without Jason. He looked over to his son at this, and cracked a wide grin, thanking me and asking whether or not I had the headache now. I just smiled back, and told him that the boys were wonderful, and always welcome in my home. Halmoni said something in Korean, and Jason responded back in kind. Halmoni then briskly turned back to the door, muttering something. Jason explained to me that he told her about the new German neighbors, and that she was going to the kitchen to make food for them. I had kind of guessed that was the case: if you don't speak a language, the human context of a conversation will often translate enough of it to work with.
Carla and Felipe decided to put in an appearance to see what was going on, as did Atul briefly, sans Rana, of course. I told the boys to go inside and put on some real clothes, and they complied. We were standing around on my veranda, keeping the path clear for the delivery men as they hauled an entire truckload into the apartment. I guess it made sense to buy everything new at IKEA, as it would have cost a fortune and taken a very long time to bring furniture from Germany. At just that time, the German boy came down pulling the hand of what seemed to be a twenty five to thirty year older version of the boy: tall, slim, blond, and blue-eyed. The boy excitedly spoke to "Papa" that this was Mister Rich, and that he spoke German. Papa then shushed the boy, and told him in English that the other people standing around may not speak German, so it would be polite to start speaking in English. That was the point where Alex and Jason returned, wearing nearly the same color polo shirt and shorts.
"Papa" introduced himself as Juergen Meier (pronounced "your gan mayer") and his son as Jonas (Yo nes). Thankfully, he didn't offer the usual bone-crushing handshake so common in Germany, but a much gentler version -- someone must have tipped him off that Americans didn't appreciate the gesture. He briefly explained that his company, Aldi (the discount supermarket chain) had transferred him from Cologne (Koeln), Germany to Atlanta to be a regional development officer. His wife Anna (you get how that's pronounced) had to stay behind for a while, as she is a doctor with patients to handle and transfer over to another physician. They both wanted Jonas to start school here as soon as possible to get him up to speed with language as quickly as possible. It seemed to me that Juergen was holding something back with that pronouncement regarding Jonas. I had long noticed that Germans will often signal discomfort by quickly sucking in air over their teeth before saying (and often understating) the thing causing them discomfort. Alex then asked how old Jonas was, and Jonas replied back in good English (with a British accent) that he was had just turned 11. My boys jumped up and down, excitedly telling Jonas that he would be in their class at school. Juergen then took his leave, indicating that he needed to be back upstairs, telling the deliverymen where the items needed to go. He apologized for all the noise, and said that it should be all over by the end of the day, as he had hired a crew to come in and assemble all of the furniture. Before he left, he promised to have us all over for beers when the move-in had been completed. Carla immediately turned to me and asked what foods Germans ate. I responded that they generally don't care for spicy foods, and tend to like breads, meat, and potatoes. I do know a number of Germans who like things like sushi and spicy foods from other ethnicities, but until you get to know the particular German, bland is best. Carla and Felipe took their leave then, telling Alex to come home before it got dark outside. Carla looked like she was on a mission, and I was sure that a bland variant of some traditional Honduran dish would soon show up at the Meier's apartment. As a footnote, I mentioned to Jason that he should run and tell Halmoni to lay off the garlic and chili peppers for which Korean food is so noted. When Jason got back, I herded them both into the car to go shopping. First stop was the Publix, where we went to the deli and got a selection of sliced meats, salami, and good cheeses, as well as some good spreadable margarine, evaporated milk, and Costa Rican coffee. I had found these things good replacements for German breakfast foods. Across Lawrenceville Highway from the Publix was a bakery called "The German Bakery," which sold decent reproductions of German breads. Of particular note was their "broetchen" or bread rolls. Broetchen are a staple of breakfast for Germans, cut in half, smeared with margarine, and then decorated with meat and or cheese slices. I picked up a half dozen of them, and no more. Broetchen need to be fresh and crispy, and had a life expectancy of about 24-36 hours. At a final stop at Clarkston's package store, I ran in and bought a six pack of Jever Koelsch beer --they stocked it for me, as my travels often took me to Cologne, and taught me a taste for the bright, light beer native to Cologne.
On arriving back home, we saw that the delivery truck was gone, so the boys and I brought our purchases upstairs to the Meier apartment, and knocked on the door. Atul came out and joined us,-- I think he was watching from the window. I could hear Rana ranting inside, so Atul give his greeting and went back inside Juergen opened the door, and gave us a questioning gaze. I took the beer out of its bag, and handed it to him saying "Herzlich Willkommen in Clarkston" (Welcome to Clarkston). He looked dumbfounded, apparently he had thought that coming to America meant being deprived of his beloved Koelsch beer! I also explained to him that like in many places in the world, bringing food to new neighbors was a cultural requirement, and that the other neighbors were likely to bring gifts of food by shortly. If he was shocked by the beer, the broetchen and cold cuts knocked him for a loop. I took this opportunity to ask the boys if they'd like to go show Jonas around the complex, and then maybe go play video games in the guest room while Juergen and I talked. Juergen seemed a bit anxious at this idea, but then nodded his assent to Jonas. The three boys scampered down the steps and on to a new adventure. I then switched to German, and Juergen lit up like a lamp. I told him that tomorrow morning before 9:00 AM (things to do at 11:00 !) I'd take him on a tour of town, and show him where I had made all the purchases, so that he would be better able to feed himself and Jonas. The Clarkston Thriftown also had a wide selection of European packaged foods that might appeal to them, so that would be on the tour as well.
Juergen seemed to be in a bit of a tizzy, as some of the items delivered earlier had been placed in the wrong rooms. I offered to help him correct this, and after looking at his wristwatch, rapidly agreed. We got everything sorted just as the work crew showed up to assemble the furniture. We let them to their business, and I went to put the cold cuts and cheese into the refrigerator... but not the Koelsch beer! Chilling it would be sacrilege! In the kitchen were many boxes and containers with what I quickly figured out were kitchen items -- dishes, utensils, pots, pans, and the like. (I like IKEA -- they have EVERYTHING.) While the assembly crew was at work, I offered to help set the kitchen in order. Juergen agreed, and as we went about sorting forks and spoons, he began to ask questions that were, in general, arrayed around his son Jonas. He wanted to know about the school here, as well as what activities were available to Jonas. I sensed a deep concern in Juergen about the well-being of his son. He did mention at a couple of junctures that Jonas' life in Germany had recently been in turmoil, and that coming to America seemed like an opportunity to make some corrections to the recent past. I didn't push on that issue, but told him what I knew, and that there were many things and programs around that might appeal to Jonas.
We got the kitchen in some form of order, and collected all of the refuse to take to the recycling and garbage center for the complex. While we were walking there, Juergen seemed somewhat nervous and pre-occupied, looking around with an air of concern. I asked him if there was anything wrong, and he mentioned that he needed to keep a close eye out on Jonas, and was uncomfortable without him within eyeshot. I told him not to worry, that Jason and Alex were with him, and that they were good, responsible boys. Nonetheless, Juergen's concern seemed, to me, to be greater than the situation might normally have warranted. We got back to their new apartment, the work crew had finished assembly and had already removed the packing materials to their pickup truck. We set about putting sheets, pillows, and comforters on the beds and towels and toiletries in the bathrooms, and voila! The place looked like someone had waved a magic wand and transformed rooms filled with cardboard boxes into a comfortable -- if sterile -- abode. It would need only those personal touches like photographs and tchotchkes to turn it into a home. I told Juergen I'd go locate the boys, when there was a knock at the door. It was Carla and Felipe, bringing two covered dishes to the new neighbors. One smell, and I knew Carla had made tamales -- mmmmm! My favorite! Carla handed over the dishes, and explained that they were made with chicken, and didn't have much spice in them at all. Juergen accepted them gratefully, and I went to place them in the kitchen. Just as Carla and Felipe were leaving, Jin Woo, Jae Soo, and Halmoni showed up with big containers of bulgogi (a delicious, lightly spiced beef), steamed rice, and fresh apples. The Meiers now had delicious meals to last the whole weekend and beyond!
I quickly explained the dishes to Juergen, told them they had been made less than the traditional spiciness, and showed him how to use the microwave to warm them up -- a great many Germans are skittish about using microwave ovens. Some even think they are tantamount to having a mini Chernobyl in the kitchen. Fortunately, the apartments come with combo convection/microwave oven, so the radiation could be avoided if they so wished. Juergen let me know that they were not "typisch Deutsch" (typical Germans) in that microwaves didn't scare them, and they loved exotic foods. In fact, Juergen was drawn to Clarkston due to its reputation for small, exotic restaurants. I promised to include some of them on the tour, and told him I'd go track down the boys and send Jonas home. We exchanged phone numbers, and hand crushing handshakes, and I went home.
I turned into my apartment, and heard the Nintendo console in action in the guest room. As expected, Jason and Alex were there playing Mario Cart. I was shocked, however, to see Atul there sitting on the bed, with Jonas sitting in his lap, eyes rolled back, making barely perceptible gyrations of his hips right on Atul's genital area! Atul looked up at me what looked like a "help me!" expression on his face, so I sat next to him, shook Jonas' shoulder and spoke in German to him: "Jonas, you need to stop that. If Jason sees you, there will be problems." Jonas immediately regained full consciousness and composure, and had a look of terror in his eyes. I smiled at him and told him that he's not in trouble; to emphasize the point, I pulled him off of Atul's lap and into mine. Atul breathed a huge sigh of relief, but not before I noticed the huge lap tent upon which Jonas had been riding. Atul explained that he had come down looking for me, but ended up waiting for me with the boys. I told Atul that we'd talk a little later, once I sent the boys home It was clear to me that Jonas was not just your typical eleven year old boy. As if to confirm the hypothesis, Jonas had subtly spread his legs on either side of my own, backed up his buttocks to align his butt crack over the shaft of my penis, and began to relax and tense up his gluteal muscles, almost as if he was trying to grab my penis through his shorts. To confirm things further, I placed my hand over his stomach, and gently rubbed the area, discovering that there was a hard boy nail poking up toward his navel. I removed my hand, and Jonas looked up at me with pleading eyes, saying "please don't be mad at me. I need to take care of the itch inside me, and Papa has been too busy in the last few days to help me." Wow. That was a revelation. I asked him where he itched, and he answered that it was inside his butthole. I told him that his Papa was now free, and he should run up and get Papa to scratch his itch for him. He jumped up, quickly rearranged his junk, said "Danke, Mister Rich", and ran off.
Upon hearing the door close, Alex paused the game, turned toward Atul and myself, and said "I think that kid is a sex freak like we are." Jason tuned toward us and nodded in affirmation. Alex un-paused the game, and the boys went on playing as before, and as if Alex's pronouncement had been "I think the kid likes pizza like we do." I could tell that Atul was still in a state of disequilibrium, so I took his hand, laced our fingers together, and led him out toward the living room. Before leaving the boys, I told them this was the last game. I promised their parents to send them home before sunset, and that they should get their things ready to take back, come out to the living room, and give their manfriends some kisses and cuddles first. They weren't too happy about having to leave, but seemed willing to comply. I'm glad they weren't yet fully into puberty, as these kinds of scenes would certainly not be getting easier. Atul and I sat on the couch, and I gave him a comforting kiss or two to pull him back into this universe. He started mumbling that he had no idea what was going on with Jonas -- that the child had just suddenly sat in his lap, and almost seemed to be able to grab his penis immediately with his buttocks, before discovering and attacking Atul's glans. I just giggled, and told him that Jonas did the same thing with me. I then translated the conversation I had with Jonas, and Atul nodded -- he had already figured out much of the content of that conversation. Atul then whispered "do you think that Juergen has to fuck his son to take care of him?" I nodded and told him yes, that is my guess.
About that time came a loud whoop from Jason and a loud "goddammit" from Alex. I shouted "language, young man!" to which came a meek "sorry, Rich!" I gathered that I was no longer "Mr. Rich, and that Jason had won the game. Atul was grinning with pride at his young love's success. They both came out shortly with their backpacks and skateboards, and joined us on the couch. Jason crawled up into Atul's lap, facing him, and wrapped his arms around him. Alex just sat on my lap, and started gyrating his hips, rolling back his eyes, and moaning in an exaggeration of what Jonas had been doing to me earlier. I just growled "you nasty little rascal" in his ear, and turned him around to face me so that I could kiss him. Soon, both couples were lip-locked, and caressing his partner with passion. We did this until the sunset was shining through the blinds against the wall, and Atul said it was important we keep our promises to their parents. Alex stood up first, arranged his package, and told us that he couldn't come by tomorrow because his parents wanted him to go to Mass with them. I told all of them that I had an appointment with Mr. Meier tomorrow morning, but would leave the veranda door open so that Atul and Jason could have their "super Sunday" in privacy. Just before the sun set, I let the boys kiss each other, told Alex to drop by later in the afternoon if he could, and herded them out the door. I stood outside until I could verify that they both had reached the sanctum of their homes.
Turning back to Atul, I asked him what time he had to be back home, and he sarcastically replied that the only time he had to be back there was about 10:00 AM to take Rana to the Telangana Women's Club/Gossip event, but that he should probably be back before 8:00 PM anyway; I was really starting to appreciate Atul's dry wit. That meant we had about two and a half hours, so I told him in as sultry a voice as I could muster that he should go to the bathroom and "prepare himself". He needed no further prompting, and jetted back there as quickly as he could. A quarter of an hour later, I was sitting naked on the side of my bed as Atul's bronzen-god body walked out of the bathroom: the sight of him took my breath away, and I knew that my muse had not just spoken, but had rather slapped me upside the head! I told him that he was like a god to me, and that he should come up unto my altar to be worshipped appropriately.
He climbed onto the bed, and I set him with his head and back against the pillows on the headboard. I kissed him passionately from my perch between his legs, and then slowly moved down, worshipping his entire body with kisses and my tongue. His ears were first, then his neck and Adam's apple, his collar bones, armpits, nipples (extra time spent there -- with a bit of teeth.) Going further south, I spend an extended amount of time tonguing and worshipping his hairy navel -- the part of his body that had given him life for nine months after conception. After paying appropriate homage, I continued south, bypassing his now turgid shaft and glans. He seemed to know my destination, as he began raising and spreading his legs; as his stretched out legs reached a fifty degree angle, my goal was now visible.
His anus was a glistening thing of beauty: a perfect, tiny, brown ovoid ring of lips with a dusky, pink crater. I was no longer in control of myself, and I latched on like a newborn needing to suckle. Atul moaned and spread his legs even further back and apart. I was where I belonged, and each time I penetrated him deeper with my tongue, he gave a sharper moan, and spread his legs even further. It soon struck me that his legs would soon be tiring, so I took a brief break, grabbed his shins, and pulled his feet back closer to my ears -- but leaving his thighs spread so I'd have continued access to the holy of holies.
This went on for God knows how long until I could feel his sphincter abandon all resistance; my tongue began to invade him effortlessly. At that point it was as if I was French kissing his wide open mouth, depositing load after load of saliva into the now gaping chasm I so loved and wanted to honor. I began another round of tonguing when he suddenly grabbed my head by the ears with his hands, and wordlessly began to pull my head toward his head. Halfway up, he re-extended his legs high and apart, and grabbed me by my waist, continuing to pull me up. He then reached down for my extremely hard cock, rubbing the glans, and smearing the accumulated pre-cum, and he positioned the head of my cock at the portal my tongue had just left. Sensing what he wanted, I reached for the lube and poppers on the bedside table, but he slapped my hand away. Instead, he reached down to his own cockhead, and gathered up a handful of the copious pre-come his own cock had produced, and slathered it on my cock and on his aperture as well. Again, without words, he grasped my hips with both his hands, and began pulling me into him. It felt like his ass was sucking me into the warmest, most hospitable heaven ever conceived of.
If memory serves me correctly, I don't recall either of us taking a breath during the entire penetration. I remember him stretching his legs up further, and his beautiful feet just inside my peripheral vision. The feeling of penetration with only natural lubrication I cannot adequately describe; there was a warm, natural friction that continually threatened to stop our congress, but with my saliva and both our loads of pre-cum, we did reach complete penetration -- balls deep and then some. The whole time, we kept eye contact with each other. As we began active copulation, facial expressions became our medium of communication. I could tell when the friction of my pounding was starting to become too much for him, and knew to either spit down onto our point of union, pull out enough for my own pre-cum to apply to the party, or add another handful of Atul's with my hand.
He could tell when I was starting to ramp-up toward orgasm, and he would clamp down and pull his feet against my lower back to slow me down, until he saw I was ready to pound him again. We went about this silent cycle of call-and-response with each other for an untold number of times. Somehow, we simultaneously signaled our readiness to complete this act of love with each other, I leaned back, and added a huge gob of spit to our union. Atul spread his feet apart as if he were doing the splits, and I began thrusting into Atul's prostate with everything I had. His eyes rolled back into his head, breaking the eye contact, and I leaned forward pressing our foreheads together. I began deep thrusting into him, his entire pelvis began to spasm, and I shoved myself as deeply into him as possible. At that moment, our bodies froze, my own pelvis began to spasm, and we began a passionate kiss.
Several tens of seconds later, I was spent, and we both finally drew in deep breaths. Our bodies eventually relaxed, and Atul wrapped his legs and feet around my back. I continued soft thrusts into him for several minutes as we both recovered from the incredible sex we had just shared. Our kiss continued unabated during the entire denouement, until we both pulled apart enough to whisper "thank you" to each other at the same time. Atul then looked over to the bedside clock, which read 7:45 PM; we had been at it for some time, but it was now time to disentangle and move on to the other things in life. I again offered him a shower, as we had both developed quite a funk over the last two hours. He once again declined, declaring that he would be proud to have Rana to smell me on him. In fact, he said he wanted to keep my load inside him the whole night if he had to be there with Rana.
He got dressed back in his clothes, but I opted for the tee-shirt and sweats. The whole time, we touched each other, and chatted. He thanked me for ideas on what to do with Jason tomorrow, and I could only smile at the thought of my little buddy bear getting the "best. fucking. ever." of his young life. I'd have to remember to ask him for details later. I walked with Atul to the door, and gave him another huge, passionate kiss and hug before opening it. I was glad we had pulled away from each other, as on the other side of the door was Juergen, looking a bit disheveled and worn. Atul and I both quickly pulled ourselves together -- perhaps too quickly, as Juergen gave us both the side-eye glance. To compensate, I re-introduced Atul to Juergen, adding that Atul had to get back upstairs to his wife. Juergen and Atul exchanged handshakes, and momentary eye contact. I did notice that Juergen did shift his eyes down to Atul's still quite pronounced crotch for a second, before Atul disengaged, and began climbing the stairs toward Hell.
Turning to Juergen, I apologized for my "typisch Amerikanisch" appearance -- barefoot, in a sloppy tee-shirt and sweatpants. Subconsciously, I also apologized for my obviously "just been fucked" (JBF) look and smell. However, I thought I also caught a bit of the JBF on Juergen as well. I invited him in, and I offered him a Koelsch beer, which he readily accepted. We sat with our beers on the couch, and in very typical German fashion, he commenced with what he had to say with no preamble or obfuscation. First, he apologized if he had interrupted a private moment with Atul, and for a typically honest German response, I told him that the private moment had ended, and that there was no problem. he grinned and nodded. Juergen then dove into the matter in hand. He told me that Jonas had admitted to what happened in my apartment earlier with both Atul and myself, and he wanted to apologize. I interrupted him, telling him that from my perspective, there was no problem -- but that there would have been problems had it been anyone other than myself or Atul involved. Juergen nodded appreciatively, and asked if he could be completely honest with me without fear of judgment. Of course I agreed.
Juergen began telling his tale. Since shortly after Jonas turned ten years old, he had become a different boy. He would keep disappearing, and coming back home late. Juergen and Anna became hyper-vigilant, and soon discovered that Jonas was spending time with a few of the late teen and adult males in their neighborhood. They soon learned from the evidence (i.e. Jonas' underwear) that these liaisons were of a sexual nature, and because of their parental responsibilities, it was necessary to intercede before Jonas hurt himself. Juergen convinced Anna to let him open the dialog on this with his son. On a long hike along the river, Juergen directly asked Jonas why his underwear was consistently soiled with what looked like a man's semen. Jonas started crying in shame, but his father just wrapped him up in his loving arms, telling the boy that no matter what the answer was, he would still love him. Jonas' answer was simple and direct: the first boy he had met (Dieter), was 19 years old, and had put his penis inside him. After that, Jonas always felt an "itch" inside that he couldn't "scratch" by himself. Jonas had continued looking around for others to help him, and soon had developed quite a network, as well as a local reputation for himself as a boy whore.
Juergen and Anna kept tight reins on Jonas, and took to psychiatrists to help figure out what was going on. Jonas tried to seduce his male psychiatrists, who then diagnosed him with pre-adolescent hypersexuality -- a malady that Juergen's own younger brother had. Before the age of 15, Juergen's brother Lutz had become the sire of no fewer than four embryos. Lutz's issues had calmed down to manageability by the age of 15, and due to this, the psychiatrists advised Juergen and Anna to keep close watch over Jonas, provide him with "appliances," (dildos and such), and be glad that Jonas seemed to be pointed toward homosexuality, which meant no expected pregnancies. They said that if his urges could be managed at home, then the risks of disease and injury could be mitigated until the hypersexuality could blow over. Juergen and Anna did their best to provide for Jonas, but slip-ups happened. One particularly bad slip up happened at school, when a physical education teacher was caught by several students raw fucking Jonas. The notoriety of the event meant the dismissal of the teacher, as well as Jonas having to be removed from the school.
That particular night, Juergen went to his son's bedroom to talk to him after Anna had gone to sleep. Jonas was still awake and particularly upset, and began spilling his truth: the dildos didn't help "scratch" the "itch" because it didn't squirt juice. The only thing that made it go away and let him sleep was a real penis in his butt. If he couldn't have the real thing, it made his brain crazy. Juergen was at a loss for what to do: should he force Jonas to have no contact with the world? Should they home-school him (not really an option in Germany)? Should he find a safe prostitute to take care of Jonas' needs? Jonas pre-empted Juergen's thoughts, and told his papa that his "itch" at the moment was so strong that he couldn't handle it. Jonas asked his Papa if he would please take care of it with Papa's penis. Juergen was at once aghast and attracted by the prospect. Jonas pulled down his underwear, lifted his feet, and pointed to his tiny little aperture, saying "please Papa. It's right here, and I can't reach it."
Coming back to the present time in Clarkston, Juergen admitted that this was the first time he had fucked his own son's ass to completion. He did it out of love and concern, but also admitted that the tightness of that muscle had provided its own rewards -- even for an entirely heterosexual man. The initial act with his son lasted over two hours. Over time, it seemed that Jonas needed "Sonderhandlung" (special care), as Juergen began calling it, every three or four days before the "itch" became too much to overlook. The move to America for Juergen was very much a chance to move away from the notoriety that Jonas had begun to develop in Cologne, and to begin to allow a more normal life and development for the son he loved so dearly. He regretted that the stresses involved with shopping and moving in to the new apartment had crossed that time limit to the point that Jonas sought relief from myself and Atul. He then went further to project concern that his new job here in Atlanta might keep him from providing sufficient "Sonderhandlung" for Jonas. Just the last few days of moving meant that Papa had to spend the past three hours giving special care to his son, twice, before the tyke could fall asleep long enough to allow Papa to come and talk with me, and he didn't know how much more help he could provide.
I didn't know where to start with Juergen after having heard this tale, so I decided to opt for the truth. I began with an acknowledgement that Jonas was not the only "pre-adolescent hypersexual" in this apartment building, that both Jason and Alex were both affected -- but at a much lower level than Jonas, that their own parents were unaware, and that I was chiefly responsible for the care of Alex's needs, and Atul was chiefly responsible for the care of Jason's. I then filled him in on the state of Atul and Rana's "marriage", and Atul's and my relationship. I also let him know that I had been tested for diseases recently, and had a clean bill of health -- and since Atul and the boys were virgins when we all met, we were all clean. Juergen did something then that was distinctly un-German -- he began weeping! When he was able to communicate again, through his tears, he expressed happiness that he was no longer alone in what he had been going through. I also did something not "typisch Deutsch", and wrapped my arms around this blond German god, and hugged him tightly. I told him "du bist nicht mehr allein. Du hast jetzt Helfer." (You are no longer alone. You now have helpers.) "Solltest du mehr Hilfe mit Jonas brauchen, stehen Atul und ich hier zur Verfuegung." (should you need more help with Jonas, Atul and I stand ready to assist.)