Chapter 1

It was back in July 1990. I’d enlisted in the army, and was stationed in Germany. I was on leave with a few buddies, we went to Paris for a week. I got hit by a drunk driver late in the night, and woke up in a city hospital.

My CO said I could transfer to the military hospital in Germany, My pals had to go back to base. I chose to stay where I was. The TV was shit, but the food was great and the nurses were hot.

The room had 4 beds, one was empty, one had a very old man in it who barely moved and never spoke. The other had an old woman in it.

I was surprised; no one provided any explanation, so I guess it was normal to have different sexes in a room.

I had a broken right leg, crushed left foot, a broken left arm, and a lot of bruising. Luckily there was no significant internal damage and my face wasn’t hit.

Gisele was recovering from knee surgery. To my surprise, she spoke perfect English with no accent.

I wasn’t very happy. I’d imagined a week of partying with hot European girls, and instead I was in this room for the duration. The pain wasn’t too bad, they give good drugs there.

The old woman was good company. She was talkative, funny, and quite interesting.

“Oh, a young black American soldier!” she exclaimed. “During the war, we used to trade sexual favors for nylons and chocolate with American soldiers.”

I laughed; “What were you, five years old?”

“Well thank you young man. I’m 70 years old and I was 25 at the end of world war two.”

“Really? Ok, well you’re looking great.” I said gallantly, wondering if she’d really sold sex for chocolate.

“I didn’t really sell sex for chocolate.” She clarified, “But it was pretty tough for Germans.”

“You’re not French?”

“No; but I usually don’t tell anyone. I left Germany in 1946 and never went back. My name is Gisele, I use the French pronunciation, Jee-zel. In German it’s Gee-sa-la.”

“I’m Hank.” I said, waving feebly from my bed.

“How old are you, Hank?”

“18.” I said.

She smiled through even but somewhat yellowed teeth, her pale blue eyes gleaming from across the room. Her face was a bit gaunt, dominated by a large hook nose and prominent chin. Her skin was pale and only slightly blemished, framed by a river of gleaming silver white hair.

“I joined the resistance in 1939.” She said, “I wanted to kill Nazis. But the cell leader told me I’d be much more valuable without a gun; I was very beautiful you see. They didn’t want me to kill them, they wanted me to fuck them.”

She laughed at my shocked expression, and I realized that reaction was exactly what she’d wanted.

“You’re bullshitting me.” I declared.

“No, it’s all true.” She insisted. “Excuse me for saying so, but I was very attractive at the time. It was easy for me to screw my way up the chain of command.

“I was a young blond haired blue eyed German girl with long legs, a tight rear, and great breasts. Perfectly Aryan! What those Nazis didn’t know was that I’d spent my youth in France and I’d been in love with a sweet Jewish boy. His family were wonderful people, and were exterminated like rats.”

She glowered with anger; even after 50 years, she was still angry. There was charisma in her passion, and in her face. It took a while for me to see it, my elderly roommate was actually still a beautiful woman.

Or maybe it was just the great drugs I was on.

We locked eyes across the small room we shared. She smiled and I smiled back; a little flirtation, a little appreciation of each other. She had a story to tell and I wanted to hear it.

“I became the mistress of the Gestapo officer who had my boyfriend and his family killed.” She told me.

Intrigued, I pressed for more.

“I was 18. He was 38, a true Nazi, he was sent from Berlin to ‘clean up’ our town. Homosexuals, Jews, and Gypsies were rounded up, as well as anyone known to oppose the fascists. My father was a prominent industrialist, and he joined the Nazis. It was easy for me to seduce Dieter.

“He had absolute power; he could take whatever he wanted. All I had to do was make him want me. Like I told you, I was a beautiful girl. Just one look into his eyes, one half smile of possibility, and he was after me. I wasn’t too easy; he had to invite me to dinner, impress my parents, give me gifts.

“I didn’t just sleep with him, I was his mistress and secretary, I would dress up very elegant and sexy and go with him to social events where he could show me off to his friends. He was crazy about me; he used to fuck me twice a day. Haha! Your face when I say the word! I’m too old to pussyfoot around the truth.

“I’ll tell you something I never told anyone; I liked the sex. Dieter was an evil man, yet a great lover. I never had to fake orgasms.

“I passionately hated him, I wanted to kill him.” she said, “Even when we were in bed, his hands on my big young breasts and his tongue in my mouth, and I held his stiff penis and put it inside myself, I was fantasizing of murder.

“He wasn’t large. His cock I mean. He had a frantic energy, he could fuck like a demon. I guess because he was one.

“He never told me anything we could use. I felt I was wasting my time there, and I begged my commander for permission, but he said no.”

“How did you manage to get away with it?” I asked, “I mean, he didn’t ever notice that you hated him?”

“Ah!” she sighed, “He was so besotted with me, he never had a clue. I used to look into his eyes and tell him total lies, and he just ate them. A Gestapo officer! Only I had to eat him too. He was a horny old bastard.”

“So what happened?”

“I needed to move on to another officer who would be more useful to us. So we arranged an assassination. I just had to keep Dieter at the window where someone outside could get a bead on him. I left the blackout curtain open but the inner white one closed, and with a single light on the far wall. I had to time it very carefully; I put on some fancy underwear, and teased him for a while. I’d rearranged the furniture so the little divan chair was near the window. I stretched out and I asked him if he’d like a blowjob.”

She paused for effect, and again was thrilled at my shocked reaction to her ribald war story. She laughed, her gleaming silver hair shaking around her gaunt face, and continued.

“Imagine; big firm breasts with exposed nipples, long legs in dark silk stockings, flowing blond hair, pursed lips asking for cock. I was quite good at it by then, I sucked him off all the time, that part was normal.

“I knelt on the floor and went to it. I had to make it a slow one, because there was a patrol every ten minutes and I had no way to know when our sniper would be able to get into position. With the lighting and thin curtain, Hans was clearly visible from the street as I sucked his Nazi cock. You know, I was actually enjoying it; I pushed his penis in as deep as I could, and I fondled his balls with real pleasure, knowing that even if it didn’t go as planned, my betrayal of him was so complete. He was totally unaware, he was running his fingers through my hair and making sweet endearments in German as he fucked my face. I always liked sucking cock. Have you ever done it?”

“No, I’m straight.” I told her.

“That’s so sweet.” she said with amusement, “I’ve been with women too; but there’s nothing like a hard cock. It’s like the whole man is in your hand, mouth, vagina, or ass. Haha! Have I shocked you again? At my age, I don’t have to care what people think of me anymore.”

She smiled with amusement, looking at me from her bed. “We did all those things when I was young, some things haven’t changed. Did you know that during the war, everyone was fucking like mad? Swapping, threesomes, in the ass, everything. Maybe it was because no one knew what would happen next. Afterwards there was a backlash and everyone went all straight, and we pretended we were all pious chaste virgins.

“So where were we? I was on my knees on the carpet, my big pale breasts swaying in a transparent teddy, my big blue eyes locked on those of my Gestapo officer lover. He held my face in his hands, pushing his hard Nazi cock in and out of my mouth. I couldn’t hate him at that moment; despite what he was, he did love me.

“That’s the secret you see; I had to make a little compartment in my brain where my fictional self lived. That part of me loved him and enjoyed serving him. Whores and spies, that’s how it works. I didn’t fake my orgasms when we had sex, I used my fantasy self so that I really came. I suppose that’s why I’m here today instead of being dead.

“The resistance didn’t quite trust me yet. Maybe that’s why the sniper took his time. Or maybe he was just enjoying the show. He would have seen the shadow clearly on the curtain.

“My lover came; standing near the window, stiff and grunting, he ejaculated into my mouth. I wonder what he would have said if I told him his semen tasted just the same as Jewish semen? Before birth control, oral sex was preferred by most unmarried lovers. And anal too.

“I held his ass and swallowed and sucked, wondering if the plan had failed. His come filled my young mouth, I tickled his hairy balls as it all went down my throat, his hands on my face and pure pleasure in his eyes.

“And then, the sweetest sound, a gunshot. BOOM! Shattering glass, and he was dead!”

“Damn.” I said, “Came and went.”

“Do you have a hardon?” she asked. “Go on, show me. Please? Don’t you think I deserve some small comfort in my old age?”

She was right, I was stiff. I’d been unable to jerk off and I had some buildup. We were alone in the room, the old guy was apparently comatose, the door was open but nurses never came in except at meal times; we’d been talking and laughing for two days by then. I’d spent more time with the old woman than some girlfriends I’d had. But to expose myself; that was weird. Being in bed in a room with her was weird already though, it was intimate.

“Go on!” she urged me, “What will it cost you?”

She had a point. Why shouldn’t I give her the small pleasure she requested? Her stories made my hospital stay bearable. And I was a soldier, and she was a war hero.

She smiled with true pleasure as I pulled back the cover and revealed myself to the bawdy old woman.

“Ahhhh!” she sighed. “That’s so beautiful. Stroke it a little? Oh please, please please!” She grinned happily at me. “You’re so big, and the color is lovely!”

So there I was, pulling my big black teenage dick as a seventy year old German world war two spy lady ecstatically watched from her bed.

I looked into her face as I stroked myself; her eyes were on my hard penis, and her smile was my reward. She was beautiful; it was very odd to see that in a person so old. And it was odd that I hadn’t noticed before.

It was the smile, it pulled the wrinkles out of her face. Her eyes shone at the sight of my organ, it was a moment of naughty mutual delight. It was sex at a distance, really. It was a line we were crossing together, a secret we now shared.

Later, I regretted the whole thing; I was slightly disgusted with myself for taking our flirtation to that level. It was just wrong, and I resolved to keep things decent.

But of course, the horse was out of the barn...

The next day she told me another story; the seduction of a German captain, blow by blow. She looked at me intently as she described each kiss, how his hands felt on her young breasts, how his cock felt in her vagina all those years ago, filling her supple body with pleasure and disgust in equal measure.

Her stories were sexual, yet tinged with danger and death. Compared to what she was telling me, our little age gap game was completely harmless.

She’d graduated from the bed into a wheelchair.

She rolled over to the edge of my bed, her story accentuated by her deep blue eyes, which I now saw had specs of green too.

Her voice was melodic, despite the raspiness of age. She took my hand, hers was tiny in my big black paw. I knew she was toying with me. I didn’t mind; whether her stories were true or not, Gisele was a wild old thing and I liked her.

I’m not some perv guy with an old lady fetish. I dated girls in my own age group when I had a choice. Ok, I used to jerk off thinking of my school teacher, or my buddy’s mother. But who didn’t?

My attraction to Gisele wasn’t sexual, her attraction to me was sexual. That was understood. It was ok. She was enjoying herself and that was good enough. I was willing to be her sexual object, it was fun.

She leaned closer as her story proceeded. Her hand slipped under the sheet, and her palm rested on my breast.

Contact; when a human touches another, it’s intimate. I felt a strange thrill, a weird fear. She was a quarter my weight, a frail old woman; she couldn’t harm me.

“Is that alright?” she asked softly, looking straight at me.

I nodded that it was.

I’d have died of boredom if not for her. She made my stay in the French hospital memorable; meeting Gisele was the bright spot in my disastrous European tour. When I saw her in the wheelchair, I was afraid she would be discharged. I’d be alone with the silent old guy.

Her hand pulled out as a nurse walked into the room. Gisele spoke to her in rapid French, they laughed, and the nurse withdrew.

The hand slid back under the sheet, and the story resumed. The hand was moving a little now, the fingers subtly, secretly stroking my breast.

It was wonderful and horrible at the same time; she was abusing me, taking advantage of my helplessness. Of the fact I had no one else to talk to.

And I liked it.

It was flattering to be a sex object, fun with a hint of unspecified danger. I looked into her eyes, listened, and let her do her thing, confident it wouldn’t go anywhere. How could it, she was too old for sex.

I thought.

She never wrote anything down she told me, never removed documents. She memorized everything and relayed her report verbally to her resistance contact. Mostly troop and armament numbers.

Her tale went back to the sexual, she became secretary to her lover’s commanding officer. Then worked to get the captain promoted.

“It was a long game.” She said, “I was a sleeping agent hahaha! I was able to relay some useful information that saved the local resistance cell from capture.

“That thrilled me; I was complete. All the degrading sex I’d had with the enemy was paid for.

“I did it.” She whispered, “Prostituted myself for the cause, betraying my own country. Remember, I wasn’t Nazi but I was still German. I was a traitor, a spy for my country’s enemies.

“I saw secret documents sometimes; I knew what was going on. I was determined to seduce and betray as many Nazis as I could before they caught me.

“My lover, Frans, committed atrocities and was promoted. A general came through and there was a little medal ceremony for him.

“I flirted with the general. He was old guard military, a tough old man. Mmm, he was rather fun in bed actually. I was willing to sleep with any ranking officer, just as a strategic measure. Working my way in, getting closer.

“The general was a premature ejaculator. I sucked him hard again, and the old soldier was mine. He was able to go at me for a half hour.

“He had a nice cock, and he was strong as a bull. Yet he kissed me gently and touched me tenderly, so I was able to enjoy the sex. I squeezed him with my vagina and the old man came in my young body again.”

Her old hand was slipping up and down, mostly down. Her fingers were raking through the pubic hair just above my cock. Her grin of excitement didn’t originate from telling her story.

Impulsively, I grabbed her wrist. “Don’t.” I told her.

Disappointed, she pulled her hand back.

“Sorry.” I said.

“Don’t be.” She said, trying to make light of rejection. “You’re a beautiful boy, I’m an old woman; just having a little fun.”

She wheeled away out the door and down the hall, and the old guy in the other bed snoring was the only sound.

I could hear her talking to the nurses, and hear their laughter. I was jealous; I wanted her back. I didn’t want her feeling me up, I just wanted the attention and the stories to distract me from the boredom and pain.

She came back after a while, and a large black male nurse helped her back into her bed. To my disappointment, she slept.

I remember looking at her. What an amazing life she’d had, I thought. I was sleeping with a spy. In separate beds, but sort of.

I stroked myself, and felt sorry that I’d denied her simple pleasure.

The next day she was helped into the chair again. She gripped his arms as he gently lowered her, and she grinned at him flirtatiously. He smiled back at her.

“When I was young, doctors were men and nurses were women.” She said to me with a laugh. “After the war, I went to medical school and I was one of two women in the whole place.”

“Wait; you’re a doctor?” I asked.

“Yes, I didn’t like working with patients so I went into research after I qualified. I worked in the US before moving to Paris 20 years ago. I only retired last year.”

“You never told me what happened with the General.” I said as the nurse left the room.

She wheeled over to my bedside. Close. Very close.

She took my hand. “I know it’s very exciting for you, but what do I get?” she asked lightly.

“Whatever you want.” I told her earnestly. “Anything at all.”

I remember that smile; she was thrilled by my surrender. There was some delay because she had to go for her physiotherapy, and the surgeon came to check on my recovery, the old guy was woken up and taken away, then brought back. It was only after lunch we were semi-alone again.

The old woman rolled up to the edge of my bed in her wheelchair, I reached out my hand and she took it. We looked at each other and we both smiled.

“I like you.” She declared; “You’re a good looking man, Hank. Big and strong, young and shiny. Your skin is so smooth, and when you look at me that way I feel all warm and funny. How does it make you feel when I touch you?”

Her hands slid over my damaged body. It felt pleasant. In fact, her touch relaxed me, I remember looking at her old face as she gently stroked my arms, chest, and face. She was still a woman, that was all that mattered.

“It takes away the pain.” I told her.

She looked surprised. “Really? Well, that’s good. I haven’t touched anyone this way since my last husband died 15 years ago.”

Her touch felt wonderful; soothing and exciting. Her old lustful hands were welcome, and I hoped they’d go to my penis, while at the same time that notion terrified me. It was great.

I looked at her face; her bright eyes, large nose, white hair, blemishes soaking into my mind as she ran her fingers across my body and resumed her ribald war story.

“Claus, the General I was telling you about.” She told me quietly, her blue/green eyes burning into me as her hands roamed under the cover deliciously, “It started when I was introduced to him as the young officer’s girlfriend, and he was flirting with me blatantly. There was a big dinner at headquarters with all the local officers, he talked to me directly, and at the end of the evening he asked me if I would like to come to his room, with Frans right there listening!”

She paused for effect, stroking my cheek with the back of one hand. “You managed to shave.” She noted appreciatively.