The Baron and the Brigadier’s Son

“And this was in better days.”

“Did they really have carriages like that—with five horses across pulling the carriage? Those white horses are beautiful.”

“Yes. That’s a racing carriage,” the man said.

“The carriage looks a bit flimsy,” the young man who’d asked the question commented.

“It’s called a trap. It’s built to be light. This is a racing form where I came from.” The man was distinguished looking, probably in his mid or late forties. He’d been handsome and trim when he was younger—elegantly turned out, as the photograph seemed to promise. Now, although his clothes were well cut, they were nearly threadbare and not in current style. His hair was salt-and-pepper turning to gray at the temples. He looked gray before his time.

This and the threadbare clothes were commonplace in Germany in 1956, though, Daniel’s father had told him. “War, especially losing a war, will do that to you,” the general had said.

The war was barely a decade over. Most Germans were still dealing with the threadbare and with trying to stave off starvation. This one was trying his best to land a temporary job. Brigadier General Dennis Anderson and his wife, Beverly, knew that. They were trying their best not to fully expose their son, Daniel, to that reality, though. He was such an impressionable young man and was going through a moody period, struggling with himself over something he wouldn’t discuss with them. He was at some sort of crossroads in his life, but they didn’t know what they could do for him. They were on military assignment in Europe. He needed to be returning to the States to get on with his college education, but he just didn’t seem settled enough yet.

“This was a racing brace of horses in Mecklenburg before the war. And, yes, that’s me driving them. I won races with that brace.”

“That’s you?” Daniel asked, turning his attention to the man trying to get his father to let him guide the family on their vacation in Bavaria. Daniel had graduated from the U.S. Defense Department high school in Frankfurt the first week of June. He’d turned eighteen the third week. He was leaving to go back to the States and start at Michigan State the first week of July. This weekend trip was to mark both his birthday and him going home from Germany to start college.

The family was at a Garmisch biergarten—an outdoor beer garden just down the street from the guesthouse, called a gasthaus here in Bavaria, Germany. General Anderson was assigned to the U.S. Army Occupation Forces. The family lived in Frankfurt. This was their first opportunity to tour the fairy castles built by the Mad King Ludwig in Bavaria—Neuschwanstein, the ultimate fairy castle; Chiemsee, the palace Ludwig had built on an island as an upscale version of Versailles; and the baroque gem of a palatial villa, Linderhof, where he actually lived most. They were in Bavaria for three days and wanted to see as much as possible. They also needed a distraction. Both Daniel and his parents were apprehensive about this next move in his life.

The man had noticed the close attention the young man, Daniel, had given the young German waiter in his close-fitting lederhosen, leather shorts held up with suspenders, and knee socks. It was a sexy native-costume look that the Germans cultivated for the tourists. He marked the interest. He also took another look at the youth. He was gorgeous, with a handsome face and figure and curly red hair with golden highlights, hazel eyes, and a sweet smile.

Did the young man’s parents know, the tour guide wondered? Did Daniel himself know? The man knew even if they didn’t—yet.

“That’s me in another life,” the man said. “I was the Baron Manfred von Mecklenburg in those days. On top of the world. Now I am a tour guide, working through the U.S. Armed Services Recreation Center and guiding American families like yours around the Bavarian sites. And I understand you folks are looking for such a guide. Now, I am just Manny.”

“Are you really a baron?” Daniel asked, taking more interest now, giving new attention to the man, who, though looking down his luck, looked very handsome to Daniel now—especially if he really was a baron.

“I was a baron,” Manny said. “All of that is gone now. The Nazis burned my castle out in passing as they marched toward Russia, and then the Russians destroyed everything else on their push back. I barely escaped with that team of horses—north into Scandinavia—a last-minute dash into the night, leaving everything else behind and burning. The horses were all of my fortune that I had left. And they are gone now too.”

He sighed and turned to the business at hand, his plea for his next meal. “I’ve ended up here, serving families like yours. My fees are reasonable and I have connections. I can get you into all of Ludwig’s castles, with private tours. Neuschwanstein is at the top of a mountain. I can get permission for you to drive right up to the castle gates in that beautiful car of yours.” He gestured to the 1955 baby-blue Cadillac sedan sitting at the curb next to where they were seated. It, indeed, was getting a lot of favorable attention in this economically devastated—still—country. The single prominent star—the mark of an American one-star, brigadier, general on its front bumper also undoubtedly helped get attention. “You need a boat to get out to Chiemsee. I can arrange that. Just a low fee—it’s set by the recreation service—and letting me stay in the gasthaus you are in for the three days and covering my meals.”

General Anderson thought that perhaps the roof over the man’s head and good meals for three days were the compensation he really was after. He doubted the story about Mecklenburg, as he knew Mecklenburg was a region of Germany itself, in the northwest. The Russians may have impoverished this man and may even have jerked a title away from him, but he would have been just as German as any of the Nazis in World War Two. And he was in Germany now. Every German still alive had a personal sob story to tell from a war their country caused. All of the stories of German survivors failed to fully expose what connections they had to the Nazis and the war movement.

Still, they did need a guide. The war was over and Germany needed to be rehabilitated to return to a balance in Europe. This man spoke elegant English; had the demeanor of a nobleman, if not the means currently; and claimed to be sanctioned by the recreation service. He had the credentials to show them. The general could contact the recreation center to check him out, but they did need a guide, and there were some American tourists at another table talking about the need for a guide as well. He could lose this one if he took the time to check.

And he did have credentials to show. Beverly was giving the man the “You poor dear” look that she was plagued with so often here in postwar Germany, which was still downtrodden from its defeat. There was no end to tragedies of what people once were and no longer managed to be.

When he got Manny’s attention to say he was hired, Manny was looking at Daniel, who was looking at the handsome—really sexy—German waiter in the lederhosen. I know about you, you beautiful young man, Manny was thinking. And I know about me and my needs and fetishes too.

* * * *

The Andersons thoroughly enjoyed their tours of Ludwig’s castles, and Manny’s demonstrated connections allowed them to see them in style—although their Cadillac, with its star on the bumper, probably had something to do with the great service they got everywhere. Seeing a luxury American car on the German roads this close to the end of World War Two was a rarity. Manny was so efficient and knowledgeable about Bavaria that they got to see much more in three days than they could have on their own—or with a less-personable guide.

He was vivacious and chatty—always glib with interesting information—and super friendly and attentive. He was a touchy feeling sort of man, which General Anderson wasn’t wild about, but his wife and son ate up. Daniel, in particular, came to worship the man and hang onto and swallow every story he had to tell about his own privileged early life in a castle and his athletic exploits. He certainly knew his history of the area—or, at least, had great versions of local history to dispense. The baron, Manny, most certainly was a charismatic figure.

He and Daniel became quite close—quite close indeed.

On the third night, the family’s last night in Bavaria, Manny guided them to the ice capades nightclub in Garmisch, the Casa Carioca. Garmisch had hosted the Winter Olympics in 1936, and the ice-skating revue nightclub was a holdover from that period. Dinner was served in the raised area on three sides of an ice-skating rink, after which the lights went down, the liquor came out, and skating stars of yesteryear came out on the ice and put on a show. Later, a wooden floor rolled out over a section of the ice, and the live band that had accompanied the skaters now accompany dancers from the audience.

When the general and his wife went onto the dance floor, Manny winked at Daniel and poured some wine in the young man’s empty water glass. The baron had put his hand on the young American’s shoulder earlier in the evening. Since then it had dropped to Daniel’s lower back through the open slat work of the chair, and Daniel hadn’t shrug away from the touch there, a gesture that both of them took as a signal of possession.

“I’m American. I’m not old enough to drink wine,” Daniel said, with a sigh, although he looked at the wine like he’d like to dive into it.

“In Germany, young men your age can drink wine,” Manny said. “They can go to war and die for their country, so they can drink alcohol and make other serious decisions for themselves. You’re eighteen, aren’t you?”

“Yes, barely,” Daniel answered, with a smile.

“That’s the age of responsibility even in your country,” Manny said. “We become adults even earlier than that. You are on the threshold of your life. In Germany that’s old enough to make a lot of decisions for yourself. We’re in Germany now. Drink it up before your parents return.” Manny had turned toward Daniel and he laid his free hand on the young man’s thigh below the surface of the table. Daniel dipped his head in submission—even if he didn’t realize that was the signal he was sending.

“Boys can really drink wine before they are eighteen here?”

“Yes, and they can make decisions about other things too.”

“Like what?”

“Like who they want to go with. Even in America now, you have become old enough to make that decision yourself.”

“Go with?”

“You know what I mean. You’re a handsome young man, Daniel. I’ve seen the way men look at you.”

“You have?”

“Yes, and I’ve seen the way you look at men too—not youths your own age. Men. Men as old as I am.”

Daniel blushed. He didn’t say anything.

“You’re a handsome young man. The male skaters tonight were handsome too, in their costumes, with their tight pants. I saw you looking at them—looking at them below their waists, where the silky costumes don’t hide much of their endowment there. That’s OK. I looked at them that way too.”

“That way? You too? You look at men too? At their—?”

“Yes—and younger men too. Youths your age. Those are cups they wear under there, though. They are not all that well-endowed. If they’re not cups, you’d be able to see a line of Der Schwanz—the thing, the cock—under the material. If he was big. Like me. See, you can see the line with me. I dress left, as you can see.” He turned more toward Daniel in his chair. Daniel couldn’t help but look down—or to see what Manny meant.

There was a pause and then Daniel repeated, shocked by the revelation, “You did? You looked at them too? There?” His surprised tone indicated he couldn’t believe they were talking about men’s endowments and what of that could be seen.

“Yes, I did. I’ll tell you a little secret, Daniel. I go with men. I go with younger men too, when they’re really sexy, like you are. I think you want to go with men too. You’re a mature young man. I bet you’ve already . . . yourself. Not just pulling it, but the other. I’ll bet you’ve used something like a zucchini. It’s OK, we’re in Germany. You can do it here. I did it when I was your age—and younger. It’s natural at your age—if you’re normal. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure your general father did it at your age too.”

That was one question Daniel most certainly wasn’t going to ask his father. His blush deepened and he looked away from Manny. Manny squeezed the young man’s knee. This wasn’t the first time on this trip that Manny had done so. Daniel hadn’t brushed the hand away or shrunk from it before and he didn’t do so now either. The hand moved to the inner surface of the knee and Daniel automatically parted his legs.

“I’ve looked at you too,” Manny said, a tone of victory in his voice, “and I know you’ve looked at me. It’s OK. We’re both gutaussehend—great-looking—erotisch—sexy—guys. We’d be great together. I’d go with you—that way—if you wanted to, and it would be OK if you wanted to here in Germany. Here in Germany—and in America too—you can make that decision for yourself at your age, Daniel.”

Manny was withdrawing the hand on Daniel’s leg and turning toward the table in his chair. Daniel felt the loss, only now realizing that he had wanted that hand to move u his inner leg and taken possession of him.

“But look,” Manny said, “I think your parents are coming back off the dancefloor. You should drink that wine before they get back.”

Daniel did drink it. He gulped it and not just because his parents were on their way back.

“See, you made that decision for yourself. You can do that at eighteen here in Germany. You can decide to go with a man too here at eighteen if you want. The world is open to you, Daniel. You can do as you please, as you think is natural for you.”

The general and his wife returned. Beverly was all aglow. She didn’t often get her husband to give her a turn on the floor.

“It’s late. I think we’d best go back to the gasthaus now,” General Anderson said. “Tomorrow morning is Oberammergau and then back to Frankfurt in the afternoon.”

“I agree it’s time for bed—and sweet dreams,” Manny said, raising his wine glass to drain it, hiding his little smile. Both the smile and a meaningful look were directed to Daniel. He’d been looking for an opportunity to approach Daniel for two days. This had been better than he thought he could manage.

Daniel said nothing, but there was a contemplative look on his face. Manny was still gripping his knee under the cloth-covered table. The tour guide gave it a little reassuring squeeze.

* * * *

It was after midnight but Daniel hadn’t managed to get to sleep. His mind was racing. So were his wants and needs. He’d already beat himself off once. He was young. He could do it again—and again—tonight if he couldn’t get to sleep.

What Manny had told him at the table in the Casa Carioca kept running through his mind. Guys can do it at eighteen with others, including with other guys. He hadn’t given much thought what turning eighteen meant for him. Another few days and he’d be going to the States alone. He would be taking on a lot of independent decisions that weren’t his before now.

Daniel had known for some time that he wanted to do it—with guys. Manny was so handsome and big and muscular. He was old but that probably just meant he was really good at it—that he had a lot of experience. Manny had admitted that he liked men, that he went with men. He said he went with youths as young as Daniel too. He had said he liked Daniel—that Daniel was sexy. He’d said that and shown that many times over the past two days. Daniel was having feelings—in his body—now when he looked at Manny . . . when Manny put his hand on his knee.

And, surprise and shock, here was Manny now, sitting on the side of his bed, looking down into his face and smiling, the smile picked out in the moonlight coming through the window. He was so handsome. Was this a dream? Was Daniel dreaming?

“It’s OK. It’s me. Let’s keep it quiet.” That was Manny’s voice—calm, soothing. “Just relax. Do as you know you wish to.”

If this was a dream, could he feel Manny’s hand on his knee? Daniel didn’t think so. He was trembling. Manny’s other hand was on Daniel’s other knee and he was parting the young man’s legs and running his hands up Daniel’s inner thighs. Daniel trembled as Manny took possession of him and began a light stroking. Daniel wanted to speak but found he couldn’t. Manny took his hand away but only to pull his nightshirt over his head. He was muscular. Daniel moaned at the sight of the man’s bare chest in the moonlight and then deeper when Manny took Daniel’s hands and put them on his muscular chest.

The man then groped for something at the side and brought his hand into the light of the beams of moonlight invading the room. Daniel gasped and groaned when he saw that Manny was holding a long, thin zucchini in his hand.

“Lie back, open your legs, and relax,” Manny commanded, and, panting lightly and giving a low moan, Daniel complied. Running an arm under him and holding him tight as Daniel arched his back and turned his head to concentrating on the movement in the breeze of the curtains at the window, Manny worked the zucchini into the young man’s channel and slowly fucked him with it.

Daniel panted, feeling the stretch even though the zucchini wasn’t that thick. And feeling the depth of the penetration, the in and out movement. He was on the edge of pain, but there was pleasure too—and the excitement of doing it with a man—if only with a vegetable. Daniel knew there would be more and that he was just being prepared for that more—for the fuller stretch and invasion of a real man.

As he fucked him with the zucchini, Manny murmured words of assurances—assurances that soon it would be Manny himself inside him—that it would be Daniel’s first time with a man and that Manny would take very good care of Daniel. And, when he withdrew the zucchini, he moved on that goal.

“Feel me. I’m a man. I’m a man for you. I think you like older men. Ja, I think you like them older. We older men know the ways of the world.”

There were swirls of curly hair there. Manny was a man, not a youth.

Manny put an arm under Daniel’s back and pulled him up to a seated position. The boy groaned and began to pant low when Manny pulled his nightshirt off his back.

“There. I don’t need mine. You don’t need yours either. We’re both nackt—naked. Neither of us has anything to be ashamed of. You can do as you wish as a man now. Our bodies are beautiful. Think of two beautiful male bodies entwining with each other.” The voice was reassuring, almost singsong. Manny was speaking. Why couldn’t Daniel find his own voice? What would he say if he could?

Manny was right. They both had beautiful bodies. There’s no reason they should be ashamed of them. And he could do as he liked now. And he could do it with a man, if he wanted to.

The man still had an arm around Daniel’s back. His other hand, though, pressed its palm against Daniel’s chest and made Daniel recline back. Manny leaned over, putting his mouth on Daniel’s chest, kissing him there. Kissing him on the nipples. Sucking them lightly. Daniel arched his back, pushing his chest up into the man’s face. He moaned.

“Beautiful. So young, so supple,” Manny murmured.

Daniel wanted to say something but he wanted this to be a dream, and he didn’t want it to stop. Manny moved his lips up to Daniel’s and gently spread the young man’s full lips with his. His tongue darted into the virginal mouth. Daniel moaned deeply.

A hand took one of Daniel’s and moved it down, between their bellies—making Daniel’s fingers touch the man “there.” He was hard and big.

“Feel what you do for me?” the man whispered. “Do I do the same for you? Why, yes, yes, I do. That is good. That is fine. That is natürlich—natural.”

Daniel was panting and whimpering. Manny was humming low and murmuring, “Relax, just relax. You can make your own decisions about this. You are beautiful. You want this. You want me. Just relax and go with it.”

Daniel did want him. Manny took Daniel’s hand and wrapped it around his erection. He took Daniel’s cock, with also was engorging in his hand and slow stroked it.

“Das ist gut—This is good, isn’t it?” Manny whispered.

“Please, bitte, please,” Daniel at last managed to whisper, but Daniel didn’t himself know what the please meant—what he wanted Manny to do, or not do.

Manny knew what he wanted to do and how to do it. Older men were more experienced in this. He leaned over and took Daniel’s cock in his mouth. Daniel moaned and rocked gently against the sucking. This was a first time for this—with anyone else—with a man. Manny moved a hand to the base of the young man’s spine and let a finger glide down into Daniel’s crack, searching for, finding, and penetrating the youth’s virginal hole. This was the first time anyone had done this too.

This was the man’s goal. To be the first to possess that virginal hole. In this, Manny had considerable experience. It was a fetish of his.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Daniel verbalized louder, not knowing what else to say.

“Shh, shh. You’re old enough. You want it. You want me.” Manny’s free hand glided down Daniel’s chest, stopped briefly to play with the young man’s now-stiff cock and balls and then continued gliding down Daniel’s thigh to his knee. The young man’s legs were clenched together. The other hand came away from the small of Daniel’s back and glided down the other thigh to the knee. Gripping both knees, Manny slowly parted the youth’s trembling legs, spreading them wide, bending his knees, placing the young man’s feet flat on the mattress.

Somewhat resistant at first, but wanting it and yielding quickly. Manny did so love manipulating them for their first time. He treasured the moment the young man’s legs went to jelly, that Daniel yielded to the touch, and he allowed his legs to be spread, opening the portal to Manny’s pleasure.

He held the legs spread like that for the longest moment. Daniel had never felt more open and vulnerable before. He moved to press them back together, but Manny held them apart. He leaned over and blew on the young man’s privates, and Daniel gasped and trembled.

“No, no, remain open for me. I will be between them soon. Between them and inside you.” Daniel moaned again. His legs went to jelly and remained spread.

“Gut, gut—good, good. You are so beautiful, so ready for life.”

Manny explained where this was going in a low voice. He was so calm and matter-of-fact, like it was the natural thing for them to do now.

“I’m coming up on the bed, Daniel. I’m going to kneel between your spread legs. Keep them spread for me. Geb dich mir hin—Give yourself to me. I’m going to put it in you and we’re going to do it. You will take your first man inside you—tonight—me. You will feel stretched and there will be pain the first time. But you want to do it with men. You want me to do it. We’re going to do it unless you say ‘no’ now. We are going to make love. We will become as one and move together, in total connection. You are going to love doing it when you get used to it.”

Daniel shuddered and whimpered, but there was no “no” articulated.

Manny turned, came up on the bed, and slid his knees between the young man’s spread legs.

“Now, now. We’re going to do it now. You’ll love it. You’ve wanted it for so long, I know. Touch it as it goes in.”

“It’s so big,” Daniel whimpered.

“Yes, I know, but that is the miracle of a man with a man. You will open to it. You will spread for it. You will love the feeling of being fully possessed. Don’t be afraid. We’re almost there.”

Daniel was panting hard and whimpering from not being so sure or so brave, as Manny positioned the cap of his erection at his hole. He moved one arm under Daniel’s waist and pulled up, elevating and rolling up the youth’s pelvis. Daniel’s legs become putty and bowed out, his hole fully accessible. Manny rubbed the cap of his shaft over the hole, again and again. Daniel melted, feeling the hole pucker and then blossom open.

“Please, please,” Daniel whispered, almost with a sob, moving more toward a “no” than a “yes.”

Manny clamped his other hand over the young man’s mouth, pinching his nose with his fingers, controlling the youth’s breathing, staving off building objections, and giving him something to worry about other than trying to scream through the smothering hand or fight the invading shaft. Daniel writhed under him, but he was too slight to defend against the heavier man’s embrace, as Manny pressed in, spreading the hole to take the bulb of his cock, then breaching the sphincter, and then, patiently stretching the virginal channel open in slight movements in and out—at first—and then deeper. He was trying his best to inflict as little pain as he could—not for any particular regard for Daniel, but not wanting Daniel to definitively showing he wanted it to stop. Eventually, the moment got too much for Manny, though, and he was letting his need, his urges, take over. He let nature take hold and he thrust faster and deeper yet. Manny was breathing heavily now, hard at work.

“Relax. Give in. It will hurt less. Open to me. Verdammt, öffne diesen Durchgang!—Fucking open that channel!” In his need to be inside, Manny almost lost it, thrusting harder, deeper.

Daniel beat on the man’s shoulders and chest for a brief time and dug his fingernails in, but all resistance was ineffectual, and as the initial pain started to subside and Daniel’s mind screamed at him that this was what he wanted, what he’d invited—he’d flirted, he’d shown he wanted it, this was his doing—he stopped fighting the man and collapsed under him. Calming down himself, Manny returned to a more deliberate, patient taking. Still Manny held his hand over the boy’s mouth, held him close, and established a rhythm of the pumping, the passage yielding to him nicely now, spreading, stretching, giving him access.

Success. They were in the groove now. The youth was moving his hips with the thrusts. This was fucking. Seizing the boy’s virginity. Tearing it out of him. Adding a notch to Manny’s belt. Victory!

That much was done, and they both realized it. Sensing the surrender, Manny took his hand off Daniel’s mouth and moved it between their bellies, grasping and stroking the young man’s cock. This was the moment of victory. Daniel offered no resistance. Manny knew he could take what he wanted from the youth, not just now but whenever he wanted it. All he had to worry about was the parents finding out. He didn’t know if he’d only have him once tonight. Now he could contemplate how many takings he could fit in before having to return to his room undetected.

There was pleasure mixing in with the pain for Daniel now, and he lay back, docilly, cheek to sheet, staring at the dark wall beside the bed as the man beat him off with one hand and fucked him with his dick.

Manny smiled a private little smile. Another virgin to men deflowered. A young, ripe one.

Daniel was being fucked—by a man. By a man that he had grown to worship and to want—to want to be doing this with him. Daniel felt his cum rise, something he’d only done for himself until now, and he released his seed. Manny continued pumping for a couple of more minutes before he released his as well. Daniel grown, feeling the man tense and jerk, and release his seed; tense and jerk, and release his seed. Daniel had been breeded. When the baron done ejaculated, taking the young man bareback for the first experience, he rolled to the side, still holding Daniel in his embrace.

“That was good. Vollkommen—Perfect,” he whispered. “You wanted that. You wanted it. You did great. You were ready.”

Ready or not, Daniel quite understood that he was undone—fucked—no longer a virgin to men. There was a pause, but then Daniel whispered, his voice a bit strangled like the admission was being torn out of him. “Yes.”

Manny relaxed. He’d done it. His prey was resigned to it. There would be no alarm raised. No need to try to escape. He’d wait a few minutes and do him again. He was a sweet lay.

“I will do you again,” the baron said. It was a statement.

“Yes,” Daniel whispered.

“It will be better the next time. Less pain, more pleasure. And more pleasure each time after that.”

“I hope so,” Daniel whispered. It wasn’t a “no” of any kind. Manny relaxed more. Less danger with every passing moment that the youth didn’t raise an alarm.

Twenty minutes later, Manny was moving. He embraced Daniel, turned him onto his belly, and then ran an arm under his waist and pulled him up to his knees, the young man’s chest still pressed to the mattress. Daniel let the man manipulate him like he was a rag doll.

“Again? Now?” Daniel whimpered.

“Yes, again now. You want it.”

“Please,” Daniel murmured, and this time it was a “yes.” He raised his arms and grasped the brass rungs of the headboard above him, as Manny rose up in the bed, positioned himself over the young man’s hips, grasped Daniel’s waist, slid inside him through the lubricant of the cum he’d deposited in his passage before, and restarted the dance of the fuck. When he’d established a rhythm, with Daniel rocking back on his shaft this time, Manny lowered his chest on the youth’s back, latched his teeth onto his exposed throat like a momma cat subduing her kitten, ran his hands down Daniel’s arms and grasped his wrists, and rode him like a bucking horse, able to sink deeper and spread wider than the first time. He released again, jerking and spouting, jerking and spouting.

That was good. That was great. The young American was a great fuck. Was this it for tonight then? Could he get it up again? Could the sweet lay take it again. He’d try. The young man was too easy, too sweet.

This young man was going to be a winner. He certainly was easy enough—ripe for it he was.

“Again?” Daniel whimpered.

“Wieder ja—Yes, again.”

When Manny left the bed, Daniel, stretched out on his belly, didn’t turn his head to see the man go, but he held out his arm for Manning to run his hand down as he left the bed and the two held each other’s hand for a long moment before the man stole from the chamber—taking Daniel’s virginity with him.

* * * *

The next morning at breakfast Daniel was very quiet and was walking a bit wobbly.

“Did you hurt yourself there, sport?” the general asked. “Had a bad night?”

“I slipped when I got out of bed, Dad,” Daniel said sheepishly before becoming introspective again.

“Where’s Manny?” the general asked no one in particular. “We need to finish with breakfast and get on the road to Oberammergau.” Fifteen minutes later, the guide still hadn’t appeared. General Anderson went into the desk at the gasthaus. He returned shortly thereafter.

“They say he was taken ill last night and went to a clinic today. He hoped we could find Oberammergau on our own and get back on the road home this afternoon. Sounds a little fishy, though, he was quite chipper last night when we returned to the gasthaus—quite cheerful indeed.”

“The poor man. I hope it wasn’t something he ate at the nightclub,” Beverly said. “He is such a nice man. Isn’t he, Daniel?”

Daniel just nodded, but he was a bit crestfallen, sheepish and guilt ridden, at this moment. He felt like he’d been deserted. Last night when the man had taken his virginity, Daniel felt that he was at the beginning of a different kind of life—one in which he walked with the baron. Now, he felt more like something had been stolen from him and he’d been deserted.

They did find Oberammergau without trouble and the road back to Frankfurt.

A week later, the general came home from work and said, “Strange that. I called the recreation service to check on how Manny was doing and they said that the baron was, indeed, one of their guides—but that he’d been with a group in Vienna when we were in Garmisch. And they said the baron was nearly sixty years old.”

Daniel, given a week of retrospect, was cured of Manny. He’d briefly felt lost and deserted, But then he found an army lieutenant to hook up with at the base movie theater to continue his sexual education. The lieutenant hadn’t asked him much about who he was and Daniel had given him his mother’s maiden name. The solider had taken him to a hotel twice already and fucked the stuffing out of him. Daniel thought that would stop right quick when the lieutenant found out he was General Anderson’s son, but Daniel was leaving for the States in a couple of weeks anyway, so that didn’t matter much. He just gave a little smile and continued on back to his bedroom, walking in a way that his parents couldn’t see that he was concealing a plump zucchini in his pocket. He’d found one just about the size of the lieutenant. He knew he could find one this size and shape in the States too—until he hooked up with the real thing there.