Colonel Dieter Kielman, assistant to the assistant German attaché to NATO Headquarters, Brussels, Belgium, leaned his long, rangy body against the frame of the open French door leading out onto the wrought iron balcony that he dare not step out onto. The Hotel Amigo, no matter how friendly and accommodating to the type of midday tryst he had come so willingly to enjoy, was not as sturdy as it appeared. Kielman was naked, flaccid in post fuck, and was smoking a cigarette, as he always did after taking the young Belgian, Guido.
"Come back to me, Dieter," the small, effeminate female impersonator from the Au Fou Chantant cabaret whispered in the husky voice he affected to turn his clients on. "I want you inside me again."
"It's late, Guido. I have appointments." Kielman did, however, lift his gaze from the the Gröte Markt street activity below and look back at the mussed-up bed. Guido rolled onto his stomach and lifted his buns in a provocative stance and fluttered his long eyelashes at the German military officer.
"You never have enough time for me," he said, with a pout. "You never make slow love to me."
"That's because you like to be taken swiftly and hard," the German answered. "You like to be driven. I can tell in your response."
"I like to be driven by you, at least," Guido cooed. "You have a master cock. I'd let you drive me all day. Come back to bed."
"I don't think so."
"Well, then," Guido said, coming up on his knees and gathering the tangled sheeting around him, "who bathes first, then? Or do we do it together?"
"I'll go first," Dieter answered, and he flicked his cigarette out over the balcony and stood up straight, nearly six and a half feet of sinew and power. "You need to cover yourself before I return from the shower, though, or I'll surely be late."
Guido waited until he heard the shower start and then he darted out of the bed and over to his jacket and extracted a small digital camera. The colonel had left his briefcase by the door, beside a small desk, the surface of which Guido found very convenient as he slipped documents out of the briefcase and photographed them as quickly as he could. He was only half finished with the papers he had found in the briefcase, though, before he heard the water being shut off in the shower.
He barely had everything back in order and was on the bed once again, when Kielman came out of the bathroom, naked, and rubbing his wet hair with a towel.
"God, I told you to cover yourself," he muttered in a throaty voice.
Guido was on his back, the small of his back arched up on a pillow, his legs spread, and one leg held up by one of his hands. His pert little balls and hole were pointed at the bathroom door.
"Sorry," he whispered and then fluttered his eyelashes at the German. "Just doing some exercises while I waited. You've seen my cabaret act. You know a boy has to be limber." And then he added, in his huskiest voice. "But are you sure you have appointments you have to go to? I see a luscious German flagpole standing at attention."
Kielman was on Guido like a lion on a gazelle. He was at the foot of the bed in two long strides, grabbed the little Belgian by his hips, and lifted him up and slammed Guido's slack hole back on his reengorged cock, achieving a bull's eye in one swift slide. Guido's weight had gone back on his shoulder blades, as his pelvis was now suspended up in the air, being slammed hard back and forth on Kielman's impaling cock. Guido's fists scrabbled at the tangled sheeting and his legs flopped back and forth akimbo as the powerful German pumped him hard. He was crying out and groaning and grunting and writhing under the onslaught of the ravishing German colonel's powerful cock.
Guido's small balls were slammed up into his body with each of Kielman's savage thrusts, and his thin, boy's penis hardened up and dribbled into a great spill, as he cried out at Kielman's taking being exactly what he wanted—just as Kielman had told him. Kielman arched his back and roared at the ceiling and ejaculated deep inside Guido's ass.
"Now see what you've done," Kielman said in a stern tone, but with a wide smile on his face, when he had let Guido's spent body fall off of his cock and onto the bed. "Now I will definitely be late for my afternoon appointment. Now I will have to take another shower."
Guido lay there, panting, collecting his strength, genuinely close to exhaustion as he listened for the shower again. As soon as the water started, he dragged himself off the bed and over to, first, his jacket, where the digital camera was, and then to the briefcase by the door, and once more started taking sheets of paper out of the briefcase and laying them on the desk top and snapping away with the camera.
He did enjoy fucking, but the German colonel was almost too brutal for him. The things he did for the Americans, he was thinking, as he once more heard the water stop in the shower and he reached for his trousers. He'd need to be at least half dressed this time. He'd photographed enough, and he didn't think he could survive another cocking just now from the dominating Colonel Kielman, assistant to the assistant German attaché at NATO headquarters.
* * * *
Guido was walking rather gingerly as he left the Gröte Markt and moved into the Kolenmarkt area. But now he was back on turf he was comfortable with. The Fontainas café on Rue Marché was home base for him, where he picked up the tricks that paid for his apartment. On his entertainer's salary at the Au Fou Chantant he could never have lived alone; he would have had to find a daddy to care for him. That would have been OK before he connected with the Americans, but now he needed to be freer with his time, ever ready to go where they needed him to go and do their bidding. He'd never felt as alive as this before he'd connected with the Americans.
They were there, each sitting at a table, their tables adjacent to each other, in the shadows under the awning. Frank and Felix, Guido's controls. Always together, Guido had never met separately with only one of them. This made Guido feel special. He must be a valuable asset, he was thinking. And they met him at a gay-friendly café. He thought that meant they considered him special too. They were meeting him in his own element.
As Guido approached the café, Frank got up and moved to Felix's table, leaving the other one free for Guido. Guido sat, being very careful not to try to make eye contact with either Frank or Felix, just as they had taught him. He ordered a coffee and a brandy. He drank them slowly, just as he had been taught. And tense as he was inside, Guido mustered all of what he'd already been taught in the cabaret and looked casual and totally uncaring. This was just another performance for him, just one of the many talents he brought to the art of espionage.
Guido called for the bill, and as the waiter left to ring up his accounting, Guido reached into his jacket pocket and took out money to pay the bill with. He also surreptitiously—just as Frank and Felix had taught him—extracted the small digital camera he had used on Colonel Kielman's papers in the Hotel Amigo room and put that on the chair facing the table where Frank and Felix sat.
When the waiter returned with the bill, Guido engaged him in small talk while handing him the money and Frank took up the camera on the empty seat between their closely positioned tables.
When the waiter was gone, Guido swept up the camera that was now on the chair, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and, without looking at either Frank or Felix, rose from his chair and sauntered out of the café, seemingly without a care in the world—but, in fact, needing to get a move on to be in place for his next scheduled assignation.
* * * *