Chapter 24

Germany – June 1945

Captain Marcus Weber, US Army, sat in his underwear with a towel draped around his shoulders, his ass anchored in a heavy, straight-backed chair that was bathed in the warm afternoon sun. Before him stood his Aunt Anna holding a small hand mirror. The harsh summer light pierced the threadbare cotton of her faded shift, exposing the contours of her still-striking figure and the dark nipples of her heavy breasts pressed taut against the fabric.

“Gretchen did a good job?” Aunt Anna asked in German, her blonde, gray-streaked hair tied in a loose bun. Marcus tilted his head, examining the reflection in the mirror she held.

The three of them were on the back porch of Anna’s Augsburg home. The massive four-post bed and fine furniture inside stood as a testament to her husband’s success as a businessman before the war; the neighborhood itself had remained largely untouched by the air raids. Marcus checked the closely clipped sides and his neatly trimmed mustache. It was a good haircut—his first in months. A regulation haircut, a fresh shave, and a clean uniform were essential for the upcoming awards ceremony, which was to be attended by the commanding general of the Seventh Army.

Standing behind him with barber scissors and a comb, the attractive brunette waited, apprehension tightening her face as she anticipated his verdict.

“Yes, very good, Gretchen,” he said in German, casually slipping an arm around her slim waist. The summer sun caught her threadbare cotton shift, rendering it just as translucent as Anna’s, revealing the silhouette of her modest breasts and the dark patch between her legs. She was one of Katharina’s friends, a refugee from Munich—a city far more heavily damaged by the war than this quiet suburb.

“Danke,” she replied, smiling with coy eyes as she gave a small curtsy.

Behind Anna in the garden, two youngsters tended a large metal kettle over a wood fire. Anna handed him a brown bottle of Thorbräu beer. He took a long drink—it wasn’t bad, served at room temperature, reminiscent of the beer his dad brewed back home.

Anna clasped her hands, her heavy bust swaying beneath her shift, teasing him. An attractive woman in her forties, her blue eyes met his with a faint, deliberate smile aimed to please. His only disappointment was that his cousin Kathi hadn’t yet returned from the Kaserne. She had taken his letter—the one vouching for her character and confirming she wasn’t a Nazi Party member—to the military government office, hoping to secure a clerical job.

Watching the movement of Anna’s breasts under the thin fabric reminded him of Paris, a memory from his only rest leave the previous fall. He had paid Bernadette, a young art student, to spend a few days with him, touring the city by day and sharing his bed by night. It was a good memory.

“Gretchen can help with your bath, if you like?” his aunt suggested, her voice soft and full of promise.

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

Marcus had a better idea. “Perhaps both of you could help?” he said. His erection strained embarrassingly against his underwear; Gretchen’s touch, her scent, and her warm skin were having an undeniable effect. He wasn’t naïve. Both women wore revealing, threadbare cotton shifts, and women just like them worked the gates of Sheridan Kaserne and Augsburg’s city center, trading sex for food and cigarettes. Marcus hadn’t indulged, recognizing his own mother and sister in their plight—a fate his family had been spared only because his parents emigrated after the Great War.

Anna’s blue eyes betrayed nothing. He had agreed to a sponge bath, a concession to the reality that clean water and fuel were scarce luxury items in the ruined city. Marcus had arrived at his aunt’s house mud-spattered, exhausted, and bitter after two days in the countryside chasing Werwolf leads—isolated cells of Nazi guerrillas, mostly fanatic Hitler Youth, still attempting sabotage against the Allied occupation. Tomorrow morning, he was scheduled to fly out to Salzburg for the Medal of Honor ceremony of his friend Audie Murphy, a fellow mustang officer.

“Of course, anything for you, Marcus. Margot is brushing your uniform,” Anna said, naming another refugee she had taken in. The heavy cartons of Army C-rations and other supplies he’d brought to the house were deeply appreciated, a lifeline in a time of starvation.

They moved through the open French doors into a ground-floor bedroom, where a metal tub sat beside a massive four-post bed. The boy and girl brought in the hot water, their small hands gripping the handles as they eyed Marcus warily. Brother and sister, perhaps; his aunt had mentioned they were staying in the old concrete bomb shelter out back.

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 of bouncing around in the Jeep.

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

His aunt washed his ears, neck, and armpits, working her way down. Her heavy breasts swayed beneath the thin shift, her nipples faintly visible through the fabric. Gretchen mirrored her movements, the deep neck of her shift hanging open to expose her young breasts. Soon, his cock throbbed painfully, Anna’s touch fueling a taboo need. No words were spoken. Anna dipped her cloth into the warm water before her hand moved to his groin, gently stroking away the sweat and grime, her fingers lingering. Her large, pale breasts dangled as she bent over in front of him, teasingly close, while 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 as he felt their weight. Anna stopped, looking straight 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, “Jawohl, wunderbar.”

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

Anna stood and pulled the shift over her head, her breasts bouncing close to his face, before handing the garment to the orphan girl bringing the water. The dirty orphan’s 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 as well, revealing proud, small, round breasts on a slender, malnourished frame. Her gaze remained locked on his.

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

He 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 heavy 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 dick. A glance revealed 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 felt a surge of happiness; she had good news—a job. Kathi wanted to thank her handsome American cousin for all his help. His driver, Hank, sat in an armchair by the front door in the newly raked front yard, a carbine leaning against the wall beside him. Margot, fifteen, sat on his lap with her slender legs crossed, while Hank held one of the family’s precious brown bottles of beer in his hand.

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

“Fräulein,” Hank replied with a smile. His olive-drab uniform trousers and shirt were dirty and mud-spattered, matching the state of the Jeep.

“Good for you, Margot,” Kathi said in German, looking at the girl. Margot was the youngest surviving daughter of a family they’d known well, a family killed in a bombing raid on 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.

Inside, 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 was unintelligible; the 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 over her mouth, her 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, a 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 was not as shocked as most would be; her family’s sex life had 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 between them, survival; she was doing her duty. 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.