Chameleon Love

June, 1940, Blaye-et-Sainte-Luce, France

Henri noticed how quiet the square was as he left the bakery shop with the piles of baguettes under his arm to be delivered around the village. Was this the day, he wondered. The Germans would enter the town to occupy it any day now. Their month-long movement was just about to reach the Bordeaux region, arriving in his own village on the southwest coast at the Gironde Estuary before the push into Bordeaux. The only saving grace was that they wouldn't billet many troops here, saving the bulk of them to occupy the far larger and better strategically placed Bordeaux.

Many of the villagers had already left, so he had just two deliveries to make—to the large, but deteriorating villa directly across the square and then to the house of the teacher, Samuel Levin, in the smaller house at the edge of the square. He would dither at the teacher's house until it was time to scrum with the village's rugby team out in the field to the west of the village. The first delivery was to his own house, where he lived with his grandfather, Ansel, a former, greatly revered town mayor, now almost immobilized by gout, and his maiden aunts, Suzanne and Marie. The Ballard family, once the richest and most prominent in the village, had fallen on bad times financially, with the deaths of Henri's parents in one of the plague-like influenza outbreaks that had passed through the village a decade earlier. The bread he was bringing to them from the baker was part of Henri's wages from working in the bakery in the morning.

After the delivery to his relatives, Henri crossed the still-ominously and atypically silent square to the house of the teacher to deliver his daily bread as recompense for the tuition for the baker's four children. As usual, the door to the small house was ajar, the first floor of the building being two schoolrooms. Henri mounted the stairs to the dwelling of the teacher above, and knocked on the door.

"Is that you, Henri? You alone?"

"Yes, teacher. As always."

"Enter."

Henri did so, leaving the bread on the counter in the kitchen, living, dining and nearly everything else room and then moved to the doorway to the back room—Samuel's bedroom.

Samuel, dark, hirsute, forties, and bearded, was Orthodox in appearance, other than the fact that he was naked and sitting on the side of his bed in full erection. He motioned Henri to come forward and kneel before him, which the young, perfectly formed and handsome man in his early twenties did, without hesitation. Henri knelt between Samuel's spread thighs, took the teacher's erect staff in his mouth, and gave it suck.

Later Henri became as naked as Samuel. Samuel was still sitting on the side of his bed. Henri's body was reclined toward the floor, supported by Samuel's legs, with Henri's legs wrapped around Samuel's gaunt torso, ankles crossed behind his back, while, gripping Henri's wrists, the strong Jew pulled Henri off and on his cock.

When ejaculation was achieved by them both, Henri was belly down on the arm of Samuel's reading chair in the corner of the bedroom, with Henri looking down on the side table where Samuel's wire-frame glasses rested on student papers he was correcting, and Samuel crouched over Henri's back and fucked him from behind and above.

When both were dressed, Samuel, as usual, walked Henri down to the front door to the house after Henri picked up the coins representing his payment from the kitchen counter where he had laid the baguettes. After surveying the supposedly empty square—but not too well—the teacher and village male prostitute kissed inside the shadows of the hallway—although not far enough inside. After drawing away from the kiss, Henri looked down, laughed, and pointed out that Samuel's trousers were not buttoned. Henri did the service for him.

What neither had noticed was that there was an open-roofed German military command car sitting at idle across the square, where the Wehrmacht Hauptmann—captain—sat in back waiting for the column of foot soldiers to arrive for the formal occupation of the village. Hauptmann Gerhard Rein watched the farewell of Samuel and Henri in Samuel's doorway, the buttoning of Henri's fly by Samuel not the least, with great interest and with pleasure that it would not require much effort to set up his routine while in this village.

It was known to only a small segment of the population of Blaye-et-Sainte-Luce—mostly those connected with the activity—that Henri, the greatly attractive young heir to the declining Ballard fortunes, was also the village male-on-male prostitute. All villages had them, of course. In many villages they were barely tolerated—but tolerated nonetheless because they were a necessity of life. Henri was from a tragic prominent family and was so likable—and of such a handsome countenance and sweet disposition—that even those who knew of his nefarious function in the village and were not connected with it tolerated it and accepted him. Those who would publicly disapprove were simply kept in the dark to ensure village stability.

For his part, Henri enjoyed doing what men wanted him to do, and he needed the extra money and services to keep his family fed. His grandfather could do nothing any more but dispense wisdom and affection. His aunts took in sewing, but that was hardly enough to keep the roof of the large villa from caving in on them. So Henri had his arrangements—the morning work at the baker and bread for the family for an occasional side fuck by the variety-loving baker. The coins from the teacher. Select meats from the village butcher. And so forth.

From the teacher's house Henri walked west of the village to the field where the town team practiced its rugby. Henri was a popular player there because, though smaller than most of the rest, he was strong, fast, clever on his feet. And he was good with his hands in finding and holding the ball. Even a few of the rugby players could attest to how good he was with his hands. The village butcher, Giles, a huge, muscular man, was both the team goalkeeper and its captain/coach. He was the power player on the team, defending the goal fiercely and well.

Following the practice, while the other teammates, muddied but highly pleased with the practice and each other, headed east toward the village, Giles placed an arm around Henri's shoulder, with the excuse of pulling him aside to give him some strategy pointers. The others looking in the direction they were headed, Giles marched Henri into a grove of trees next to the field. Neither noticed the military staff car that had been parked near the field, with Hauptmann Reins watching the practice—both the play and the obvious after play.

In the grove of trees, Henri lay on his back between the roots of a tree with his soccer shorts and cup off, his legs raised and spread, as Giles, shirt off and soccer shorts pinned down under his balls, knelt between Henri's thighs. Henri arched his back, panted, and cried out at the initial penetration as Giles' oversized cock entered his ass channel. As the bigger man began to pump Henri's ass, the younger, blond beauty slitted his eyes, licked his lips, and ran his hands over the bulges of the butcher's chest and biceps. There would be a fine cut of meat on the Ballard dining table tonight. And Henri wasn't the least bit embarrassed at how he was providing for his family. He enjoyed the attentions of men, and it was a precarious life for all in the village, especially with the uncertainty of the now-arrived German occupation.

Henri loved the fucking. He didn't have to love all of the men who provided it. But if he had to be a chameleon about showing his love for what they did to him, a chameleon he would be.

After Giles left him, Henri lay there for several more minutes, his legs spread, calming his breathing. Giles had the biggest, cruelest cock by far of all the men Henri took in the village. It took Henri a few minutes to recover.

In those few minutes, however, Hauptmann Reins appeared at the edge of the trees, and the eyes of the two met. Henri defensively reached for his soccer shorts to cover his privates, but neither of them was fooled about what had transpired there.

Henri's first response was feeling a chill of fear run up his spine. The Germans were reputed to be highly puritanical—to persecute any variant activity. Would Henri be sent to the camps he'd heard about on the first day of the German occupation?

But then Hauptmann Reins smiled broadly at Henri, and Henri understood that that was not to be his fate. He smiled back, tossed the soccer shorts off to the side again, spread his bent legs farther apart, rolled his hips up, fisted his cock with a hand, and gave the German captain a provocative look. If a chameleon he had to be a chameleon he would be.

The German army officer unbuttoned his trousers, pulled out a long, thin, erect cock, and approached and sank between Henri's thighs. As the cock made a long, cruel thrust up into Henri's channel and Reins closed his hands around Henri's throat and began to pump, Henri, the chameleon, arched his back; gagged, gasped, and groaned, as he knew the German would want to hear; and began to move his hips in the rhythm of the fuck. There must be some way he could gain advantage from this for himself and his family in the German occupation, he mused.

When Reins had ejaculated and was holding Henri close and breathing hard, his cock still buried deep inside Henri's channel, Henri whispered in the almost adequate German he'd learned thanks to his liaison with Samuel Levin, words to try to bind the German to him—words of loving the fuck, of wanting it again. Of how handsome and masterful the German officer was. Of how he melted to the attentions of a man in uniform.

Beaming not only because of how sweet and willing Henri's body had been, or even that the young man knew some German, but mostly because the sweet piece wanted to be fucked again immediately, seeming eager to have Reins plowing him again, Reins took as little time as he needed to comply.

He'd been of two minds—whether to use the public humiliation of this young man and the resulting punishment as an example to cow the people of this village into subjugation, or to use him and hold the vilification for later. The Frenchmen's succulence and willingness had determined that he would live a little longer.

* * * *

Henri's premonition of what was to come and an understanding of the high-stakes risks that now existed propelled him into motion as soon as he returned to the villa. Luckily, he got no argument from Suzanne and Marie and stalwart support from Grandfather Ansell. Of course he didn't tell them the real reason this had to be—but they weren't stupid. They'd heard about other French villages the German had occupied. They could discern what some of the safer options were.

On his way back into the village, Henri had stopped at the stablery and hired a buggy, horses, and driver to appear at the back gate of the villa grounds. He had no trouble doing so, as the stable master, Pierre, was one of his men. He only had to promise two free lays, which he considered cheap, considering the short notice and how far up the coast the farm of the Ballard cousins was. The deal was struck on the spot with Henri giving the stable master a quick blow job.

While Marie packed trunks for herself and Suzanne, Henri and Suzanne scoured the house for valuables whose absence wouldn't be notice by first-time visitors and hid them away in the recess in the chimney in Suzanne's room that had been used for similar emergencies in the two hundred years the villa had stood here. There were more secrets in the house than just this hiding place.

The women had been gone none too soon when the knock on the door that Henri had anticipated came. Standing on the landing in front of the door, backed by two soldiers—one older and grizzly and one almost as young as Henri and wide-eyed and full of unspoken questions—was Hauptmann Gerhard Reins, eyes aglow from the servicing he'd received earlier in the day. Henri didn't regret having given into the man. He was maybe in his late thirties, ramrod straight and tall, on the thin side, but muscular, hair even blonder than Henri's—nearly pure white—and piercing, cruel pale-blue eyes. The mouth was set in a superior-attitude near-sneer, which contrasted with the older soldier behind him, whose sneer was knowing and demanding. When he was honest, Henri had to admit to himself that he preferred a demanding—and, yes, even a bit cruel—man. This soldier, at least, had been told of Reins' tryst with Henri, Henri was certain. And it was just as likely that he wanted to claim a share.

"We require billets," Reins declared. "Your house has been identified as the most appropriate one in the village. And I expect it to provide full amenities." The captain gave Henri a meaningful look.

Henri knew there were houses in better shape, but he had to admit that this villa was the most imposing one and with the most furnished bedrooms. This had been his premonition—that the German captain would come straight here for housing—and other benefits. The "other benefits" fit in with Henri's desperate plans, though.

Henri merely inclined his head in assent and acquiescence.

"This is Obersoldat Johan Mueller," Reins said, gesturing to the older solder, "and this is Soldat Hans Kant," he said, pointing to the younger and obviously junior—and certainly only nervous one—of the trio.

And then Reins said what Henri had been hoping for. "We do not pay for the use of the house, but we pay for the food, enough for everyone under the roof—and who will that be?"

"Just my grandfather and me," Henri answered. "He is old and hard of hearing and won't be in your way."

"Ah, good. And for the heat when it comes to need that, and do you have servants?"

"Just the cook and a day maid," Henri responded.

"And because of the special circumstances, I will pay extra for your exclusive services—for me and these two soldiers who will billet with me. Am I right that you receive payment for your services? That this is a function you serve in this village?"

The look was piercing. The younger soldier didn't seem to understand what was being said, but the older one certainly did. And now Henri was certain he knew the real reason his house had been chosen by the captain for billeting.

"Yes," he answered demurely, eyes downcast. "These are the services I provide."

"And to my two adjuncts too?"

"Yes, of course."

Then Henri looked up—his smile went behind the captain to the Obersoldat, Mueller, conveying his particular interest in the rougher of the three. "If you'll come upstairs with me, I'll show you to bedrooms. All are prepared"—and, indeed, part of the work of Suzanne and Marie's departure was to remake their rooms, both quite comfortable rooms dominated by four-poster beds with heavy, durable canopies and strong corner pillars. And with thick draperies on the windows and thick, sound-proof walls. To be sure they understood, Henri noted, as they mounted the sturdy staircase from the front foyer, "There are four bedrooms on the second level. The bedrooms on the third are not in use. Both the cook and my grandfather have rooms on the first floor in a wing beyond the kitchen, well away from the main house. The rooms on the second floor are for you, your two soldiers, and me. My room connects to yours, Captain. I hope this meets your needs."

The German captain quite explicitly said that it did. Perversely, Henri had assigned Reins to Suzanne's room, the one with the fireplace that hid the family's most precious possessions.

That night Reins showed his fetish streak. He had his two soldiers tie Henri's wrists to a corner of the frame of the canopy bed in his room, with him, naked, stretched below. The grizzly and wiry older solder, Mueller, held Henri on one side by puling Henri's leg up toward the headboard, while the younger, magnificently built private, Kant, did the same on the other. Kant wasn't just the one in the best muscular shape; he also was the lowest hung of the three. Reins stood, ramrod straight other than the forward jut of his pelvis, with his long, hard cock thrust upward, while, his two soldiers maneuvered Henri's rolled up hips in position and then, screwing his ass channel on Reins' cock, moved Henri back and forth on the shaft.

Knowing what he had to do and sensing even then that he needed to enlist the sympathy of at least one of the three, and the choice being obvious to him, as he could tell there would be no sympathy in any kind to expect from Mueller, he turned his face to that of the youngest soldier, and the two kissed deeply.

Later, as Mueller cruelly pistoned Henri from behind, bent over the side of the bed, Kant knelt in front of the still-reclining Reins—by his own choice—and sucked Reins to an ejaculation.

Before dismissing his attendants, Reins had them tie Henri, wrist and ankle, to the four strong posts of the bed. They tied him high off the bed, so that the droop in his buttocks surpassed six inches off the surface of the bed. Bursting one of the feather pillows open, the captain poured the feathers over Henri's body and blew and delicately pushed them along the surface of Henri's delicate skin to take pleasure in Henri's moans and begging for relief and in watching him struggle against his bonds and writhe in midair. When Henri was whimpering from exhaustion, Reins moved onto the bed, knelt between Henri's suspended thighs, grasped and spread Henri's buttocks with his hands, pulled Henri's puckered entrance onto the bulb of his cock—then deeper and deeper on the cock, as Henri writhed, arched his head back and marveled in words he knew the German wanted to hear of how deep the cock was reaching. Then Reins pulled Henri on and off his buried cock to a mutual ejaculation, and Henri's murmurs of maximum pleasure.

Guarding the tone of his voice and pulling a wan smile across his face, Henri told the sadist German captain that this masterful sex made him love Reins and wish for all of the inventive ways his body could be used to stimulate and serve the German's needs. He hoped that Reins' inventiveness would last him for some days to come.

That seemed to be enough for Reins' wants for the night, although in days and nights to come he was to devise many more unusual and decadent fetishes in the taking of Henri, much of which entailed the bondage of Henri and the use of the strength of the bed pillars and overhead canopy. All four men retired to their respective bedrooms.

To further Henri's own plans, he crept into Hans Kant's bedroom in the middle of the night; climbed under the covers with the young, hung, magnificently built German soldier; coaxed him to the hardest of woods with mouth play; straddled the young soldier's pelvis; and rode him for an hour, leaving the young soldier glassy-eyed and murmuring of awe, love, and devotion.

Hans' hands on Henri's waist were strong and calloused. He was a young stud, new enough to sex with men to be surprised and jerk and tremble when Henri, thoroughly experienced in the pleasures of men, surprised him with intimate touches—eating out Hans' ass as he writhed and luxuriated in the first such intimate service, taking the young man's balls in his mouth and humming, taking Hans almost to ejaculation by deep-throating the whimpering warrior's throbbing staff before mounting him, kissing and pinching Hans' nipples while rising and falling on the cock, nipping his nipples and his neck for the feel of his flinching and driving his cock deeper, begging constantly in broken German for the cock to dig deeper, reaching back and entering the young stud with a finger at the conclusion and rubbing Hans' prostate to make him explode deep in Henri's ass.

Other than one of the village priests, who was delicate and almost effeminate in sex even though he was on top, Henri was mostly fucked by older men. It was a thrill to have a younger, perfectly cut, vigorous, and virile man between his thighs. And even after an hour, it wasn't just the one fuck, with Henri riding Hans' thick cock. The young German soldier lost his shyness and, after a short recovery, took control and rode Henri—and then rode Henri again—and again.