Chapter 24

Germany – June 1945

Captain Marcus Weber, US Army, sat in his underwear, a towel around his shoulders, in a heavy straight-backed chair bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. His Aunt Anna stood before him, holding a small mirror, sunlight piercing the thin cotton of her faded shift, revealing the curves of her still-striking figure, the dark nipples of her heavy breasts pressed against the fabric.

“Gretchen did a good job?” she said in German, her blonde, gray-streaked hair tied in a loose bun. He twisted his head, examining the haircut Gretchen had given him.

The three were on the back porch of Anna’s Augsburg home, the big four-post bed and nice furniture testament to her husband’s success as a businessman before the war. The neighborhood had remained largely unaffected by the attacks on Augsburg. Marcus checked the clipped short sides, his mustache neatly trimmed, a good haircut, his first in months. A regulation haircut, fresh shave, and clean uniform were important for the upcoming awards ceremony attended by the commanding general of the 7^th Army. The attractive brunette stood behind him, apprehension on her face, holding barber scissors and a comb, waiting for his answer.

“Yes, very good, Gretchen,” he said in German, casually slipping an arm around her slim waist. The thin cotton and sunlight revealed her modest breasts and dark patch between her legs. She was one of Katharina’s friends, a refugee from Munich, a city heavily damaged by the war.

“Thank you,” she replied, smiling, giving a little curtsy, her eyes coy.

Behind Anna in the garden, two youngsters tended a big metal kettle on a wood fire. Anna handed him a Thorbräu beer in a brown bottle. He drank, not bad, room temperature, like his dad brewed back home.

Anna clasped her hands, her heavy bust swaying under the shift, teasing him. An attractive older woman in her 40s, her blue eyes met his with a faint smile, aiming to please. His only disappointment was that her daughter Kathi wasn’t home yet from her trip to the Kaserne. She’d taken his letter vouching for her character, not a Nazi party member, to the military government office, seeking clerical work.

Watching Anna’s breasts sway under the shift, outdid Paris’s sights from his only rest leave in the Fall. The young art student Bernadette paid to spend a couple of days with him, touring the city, and in bed, a good memory. “Gretchen will help with your bath, if you like?” his aunt suggested, her voice soft full of promise.

He eyed the pretty refugee, a war widow like Kathi, her child playing somewhere in the house. She nodded, removing the towel, her fingers brushing his skin.

He had a better idea, “Perhaps, both of you could help?” he said, his erection straining embarrassingly against his shorts, Gretchen’s touch, scent, and warm skin having an effect. He wasn’t naïve; both women wore revealing cotton shifts. Women just like them worked Sheridan Kaserne’s gates and Augsburg’s city center, trading sex for food and money. Marcus hadn’t indulged, recognizing his mother and sister in their plight, his family spared by his parents’ post ‘Great War’ or World War One, emigration.

Anna’s blue eyes betrayed nothing. He’d agreed to a sponge bath, as clean water and fuel were scarce. Marcus arrived at his aunt’s house mud-spattered, tired, and angry after two days chasing Werewolf leads - Nazi guerrillas, mostly Hitler Youth, waging sabotage against the Allies - in the countryside. Tomorrow morning, he’d fly to Salzburg for his friend Audie Murphy’s Medal of Honor ceremony, a fellow mustang officer.

“Of course, anything for you, Marcus. Margot is brushing your uniform,” Anna informed him, naming another refugee she’d taken in. The cartons of Army C-rations and other supplies he’d shown up with were welcome.

They moved through open French doors to a ground-floor bedroom, where a metal tub sat beside a four-post bed. The boy and girl brought hot water, eyeing Marcus warily. Brother and sister, perhaps, they were staying in the old bomb shelter out back, his aunt had said.

Both women, in their thin shifts, stood beside him. “Go ahead,” Anna said to Gretchen. Marcus waited as she pulled down his shorts, exposing his erect cock. He stepped into the tub, dirty and aching from two days bouncing around in the Jeep.

Anna stood close, a warm, wet cloth in hand, her blonde, gray-streaked hair in a bun. She shared Kathi’s good looks, now in her 40s. Gretchen, on his right, held a wet cloth and a bar of U.S. Army soap.

His aunt washed his ears and neck, armpits, working her way down, her heavy breasts swaying under the shift, nipples faintly visible. Gretchen mirrored her, her shift’s deep neck open, exposing her young breasts. Soon, his cock throbbed painfully, Anna’s touch fueling a taboo need. No words were spoken. Anna dipped her cloth in the hot water before her hand moved to his groin, gently stroking away sweat and grime, her fingers lingering. Her big, pale breasts dangled as she bent over in front of him, teasingly close. Gretchen’s free hand massaged his sore lower back.

Marcus didn’t think; his Army was the victor. He reached inside the neck of Anna’s shift and began groping her heavy breasts, their softness hot in his hand. Anna stopped, looking into her nephew’s eyes as she held his cock.

“Go ahead. It’s your right, Marcus,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “You’re taking care of us, so we will take care of you.” Gretchen’s hand joined Anna’s on his dick, teasing his balls with deft fingers. Using a soapy hand, Anna began stroking him. “He’s big,” she said to Gretchen, who agreed, “Jawoll, wunderbar.”

“Take them off,” he ordered, barely able to speak, tugging at his aunt’s shift.

Anna stood, pulled the shift over her head, breasts bouncing so close to his face, handing it to the orphan girl bringing water. The orphans big green eyes suddenly focused on Marcus’s hard, soapy cock. Anna’s great body, full curves, and heavy breasts glistened with a sheen of sweat, begging for his touch. Gretchen, perhaps twenty years of age, removed her shift. Proud, small, round breasts on a slender, malnourished frame, her gaze locked on his.

“Perhaps on the bed,” Anna said, glancing at the four-post bed, her suggestion clear.

Marcus nodded, his cock painfully hard as Gretchen washed his legs. A quick rubdown with a rough towel, and Anna pulled him onto the bed; it still had some spring in it. Still, he felt like he was lying on a cloud as his gorgeous naked aunt drew him to her breasts, her familial tie melting against the heat of her body.

Marcus went with it. His face in her tits as she rubbed his head mother-like. He sucked one big nipple into his mouth, then the other tit, hands squeezing both soft mounds. The fact that she was family was not important. Soon, he felt a wet mouth on his cock. A glance, Gretchen lay on the bed, her lips and tongue gliding over his cock with slow, teasing licks, her eyes locked on his as she sucked his cockhead into her mouth.

Walking toward her house, Kathi noticed a green US Army Jeep with its white star on the hood parked in front. She was happy; she had good news, a job. Kathi wanted to thank her handsome American cousin for all his help. His driver sat in an armchair by the front door in the newly raked front yard. Carbine leaning against the wall. Legs crossed, Margot, fifteen, sitting on his lap, one of their precious beers in his hands.

“Hank. Good afternoon,” she said in English, speaking slowly, exercising a language her father insisted she and her brothers study as teenagers, saying it would come in handy one day.

“Fräulein,” he said with a smile. His olive-drab uniform pants and shirt were dirty, mud-spattered like the Jeep.

“Good for you, Margot,” she said in German. Margot, the youngest surviving daughter of a family they’d known, killed in a bombing raid in Berlin.

Margot spoke up in German, “He’s inside, getting a haircut. The Americans brought food.” She said, the big sergeant’s free hand inside the front of her blouse as she took a drink of the beer.

Kathi took off her coat, hanging it up before she made her way to the back of the house, where she heard voices. She stopped outside her open bedroom door. The conversation inside unintelligible, sounds of flesh slapping flesh mixed with moans and groans. Peeking from the hallway, she tried to make sense of the scene on the bed, her words catching in her throat.

A naked man, Cousin Marcus, was between a woman’s legs, his ass rising and falling, driving himself into her, her soft moans echoing in the humid air, familiar. She put a hand on her mouth, heart suddenly racing, her news forgotten as she understood.

Gretchen was naked, lying on her side facing the couple in coitus, smoking a cigarette with a book open, finger tracing the words. Marcus suddenly sat up, her suspicion confirmed, her mom’s breasts jiggling as he pawed at her chest, her skin flushed and sweating. He took the cigarette from Gretchen, taking a deep drag before handing it back. Anna was sweating and smiling, both hands on his chest.

Her mom! Kathi is not as shocked as some; her family’s sex life has been progressive since she was a teen.

For whatever reason, Anna glanced at the doorway where Kathi stood. Mother and daughter’s eyes met. This was not the first time she’d seen her mom with another man who wasn’t her father. A silent message was passed in that moment, survival. A surprising pang of jealousy intruded on feelings she had learned to keep locked down.

Marcus played with Anna’s generous chest as he rested between her thighs. His aunt felt fantastic, warm and wet, he loved how her pussy felt on his cock. He was amazed he’d lasted this long. She’d put him inside her and not Gretchen. Looking at Anna, he could see his mom in her face. They were of the same age, his mom from Nuremberg, a city he fought through only a few weeks ago, his last big fight before the war ended.

Kathi watched her mom pull Marcus down on top of her again, arms around his neck, his hips moving slower. She was at a crossroads with Marcus. She could shy away, or she could embrace this thing, the situation her family found itself in at the end of the long, brutal war.

Marcus let Anna pull him into an embrace, opening her mouth to him for a passionate French kiss. They moved their hips in rhythm, as he felt his cum shoot into his aunt, a forbidden release. “My son,” she murmured over and over as they climaxed and her body shook.