Chapter 1

(In Memory of Jan Wolenski 1925 - 2012)

It was during the Second World War; I had just entered my fourteenth year by a mere few weeks. The city in which I resided was a time bomb; the Nazis would not be far off in their quest to capture all of Poland. Other cities were already under siege and rumors of atrocities were abound. Rape, torture, murder and mass incarceration of people that were deemed not fitting the Nazi profile, it was rumored.

I understood little at the time, being the only child of a loving, well-off Polish father and Swedish mother. I was sheltered from evil-doings as much as possible. I did however overhear, as children are wont to do, the whispered talks of adults and the very scary sounding man blaring from the RCA Victor. Not understanding German, I was truly frightened by the very tone of his loud, angry voice.

My parents struggled, but made the final decision to send me off to live in the country with my maternal aunt and uncle, and my younger female cousin. It was said that life there, some 200 miles to the south, was still serene and safe, as the Nazis had bigger fish to fry. Conquer the major cities and the rest of the population would fall to its knees. It would be temporary, at least until things settled down, mom assured, trying to be strong in emotion while placing me on the train that spring morning.

It was a village of no more than five-hundred residents. My uncle owned a small farm on the rural outskirts. Chickens, a few cows and pigs and a vast vegetable garden provided sustenance for his family. Their home was a small, modest structure, quite primitive from the city homes I was used to. No running water, indoor plumbing and electricity to be enjoyed as a luxury, but the family seemed content existing on basic necessities and their staunch Catholic faith.

My make-shift bedroom was a windowless converted storage area off the kitchen that I shared along with the normal paraphernalia for which storage rooms are generally intended. It was rather cramped and small and a curtain was strung across the opening where a door may have previously hung. But it did offer some privacy and the old feather bed was very comfortable indeed. It was a much better alternative than sharing a room with my cousin, Beth, who enjoyed a very spacious room all to herself. After all, although we were cousins it just wasn't right for a boy and a girl our age to share sleeping quarters which was fine with me.

Not that I wasn't fond of Beth, she was very pretty with her blond hair and blue eyes similar to mine, traits inherited from our Swedish mothers and in reality, our resemblance was so alike we could easily have been taken as brother and sister. I was of the age where boys had a mild interest in the fairer sex and a rather compelling interest in my pubertal development and its wonders.

I had discovered masturbation at the same time I learned snippets of information regarding sexual matters. I knew the basics; men get women pregnant, but the actual knowledge of how one went about doing so only came to light early in my twelfth year when I happened upon a male cousin and his friend enjoying the day at a mutually shared favorite fishing hole.

Henry, my 15 year-old cousin, and his 14 year-old friend Joseph had stolen a bottle of red wine from a vendor's cart in the city and were sharing the pilfered contraband when I happened upon them. I was sworn to secrecy, of course, and not offered to share in the inspiration of their giddiness.

It was a very hot afternoon and the fishing hole also served as a fine swimming area. Before long, both boys had stripped naked and were frolicking and horsing around in the water, dunking and crawling atop one another giggling like a couple of school girls.

When they exited the water, both boys sported erections which they made no attempt to hide from each other, or from me. I had never before seen another boy in such a state, and of course their development was even more intriguing compared to my own small, hairless genitals.

Henry was far more advanced than his friend, with his long, thick shaft and low hanging testicles and a mat of wet black hair plastered to his groin area. Joseph was maybe equally as long but lacked the girth and his pubic hair was sparse. His testes were smaller and not unlike my own.

My interest was that of sheer boyhood curiosity and not of a sexual nature by any means as I took in the remarkable male genital stages, from my own boyhood immature display, to Joseph's mid-range development, and finally to the manhood proportions that I suspected Henry had reached.

To make a long story short, the previous evening the boys claimed to have witnessed a couple of prostitutes servicing two Polish military men in a dark alley. Henry and Joseph began to mimic the sex acts, laughing and talking like girls, making lewd sexual comments that they had overheard.

From a standing position, Henry turned Joseph around. He immediately bent over, supporting himself on a fallen tree. Henry then placed his erection between his friends' legs and with exaggerated gusto, began pumping; hooting and hollering very foul words. Joseph was begging in a mocked female voice, for Henry to do "it" harder.

The playful shenanigans lasted but only a few moments before both boys broke into hysterical laughter. But the show wasn't quite finished yet; Henry told Joseph to get on his knees and suck his "big Polish dick," obviously mimicking another sexual act seen in that dark alley.

I was aghast when I quickly figured out what that entailed, even though Joseph didn't actually take Henry's penis in his mouth, but he made open mouth gestures with it grazing his lips and his hand firmly around the shaft stroking it as Joseph thrust his hips to and fro.

Although it was playful, I remember Henry becoming serious and asking Joseph to actually perform oral sex on him. I truly believe that Joseph was contemplating doing exactly that after several more prodding attempts by Henry, but after a quick glance my way, he rose to his feet red in the face.

Joseph began asking Henry to masturbate himself so that he could again see an apparent "geyser" shoot out that Henry had obviously done at some previous point in time. Henry obliged, lay upon the grass and frantically beat his meat. I was bewildered at the purpose and objective in which Joseph was so keen to witness. He was so anticipating the end result that when Henry's hand grew tired, Joseph's hand took control of the matter and shortly thereafter brought the "geyser" forth much to my amazement and awe.

So that was my basic induction into fornication and oral sex, although both acts had been simulated, but the act of masturbation was a very real eye opener for me to experiment and I did so with such regularity that I developed a very painful friction burn. The actual joy of ejaculation came just prior to my thirteenth birthday, although not nearly as voluminous and ivory-white as my cousin Henry spewed that hot summer day, I was very proud nonetheless.

The Nazi military infrequently passed through the village of my temporary exile, stopping only briefly to replenish supplies of whatever they needed, procured free of charge in the name of the Fuhrer. These 'visits' were always forewarned in advance as mass amount of troops moving north could not go unnoticed and word traveled quickly to the hamlets in their path.

As a precautionary measure, teenage girls and unwed women were sent underground lest the Nazis had intentions of overstaying their welcome and wish to alleviate their pent-up manly desires and take advantage of their arrogant wartime lawlessness.

This was, in fact, the case one day in mid-August when several battalions stationed themselves near the village. It was rumored that they were awaiting orders to occupy my home city. Soldiers outnumbered residents at least four to one as they settled and erected a base camp nearby that disrupted the meek inhabitants' peaceful way of life. Life as the village had known it had finally been met with the ugly face of war.

High ranking officials commandeered private homes to reside while they awaited orders. It was expected that homeowners would house and feed these VIP's without question and with open arms. People were so fearful of the Nazis that they went out of their way to host such powerful men. It became a fierce competition to attract those most powerful into their dwellings as it was believed that a certain safety factor was gained by accommodating them to ensure your home and family would be safe from pillage or destruction. A swastika hung on a door signified that the home was off limits to rogue infantry marauders.

My aunt and uncle were no different in their plight for self-preservation and opened their home to such a man. I did not know his rank or his name but he was in his mid-thirties and so handsomely blond and blue-eyed he could have been the poster boy for Hitler's "ultimate" race. The very first night of his arrival he was treated like royalty. Liquor was flowing like water between my uncle and the man.

My aunt prepared a fabulous meal of roast pork, chicken and all the trimmings. She was manicured, primped and dressed in a gorgeous white frock, more beautiful than she ever portrayed herself before. Beth and I could only look at each other and shrug shoulders at unusual behavior of her otherwise religious, tee-totaling parents who were practically falling over the man to be hospitable.

Lanterns illuminated the surroundings like never before seen in the household. Kerosene was scarce and rationed, but our prestigious boarder seen fit to supply the liquid-gold; most likely for his own convenience and comfort.

Reflecting later in life, it was as if my aunt was flirting with the Nazi guest at our table. Her willingness to be bedded by the man with her husband's consent, was only a noble effort to deflect attention from their young daughter, should the man be so inclined, despite the parents effort to disguise Beth's true beauty by making her appear quite unkempt with messy, lard greased hair, soiled skin and baggy clothes.

Two different languages, German and Polish seemed not a barrier, each party having compromised on a limited repertoire of broken English; a language that I had only just began studying in school and had no proficiency in. Throughout dinner and beyond, the man stared at me and would beam a broad smile when I met his gaze, toasting me often which seemed to cause an uneasy tension between my guardians. Their eyes locked upon each others, then upon mine.

A certain fear was easily read by me into the sudden change of aura, but as quick as it would happen, a semblance of normality resumed when my aunt or uncle would sway the man's attention away from me and a round of laughter ensued.

The interpretation given to me by my uncle was that the German thought I was too pretty to be a boy, a comment that I heard so often in my life that I loathed it. I felt there may have been more said, but that was all that was relayed to me.

Earlier that evening our guest had selected Beth's room to be his sleeping quarters, obviously because it was spacious and a far cry nicer accommodations befitting his status than my tiny, impromptu bedroom. It was decided that Beth would bunk in with me for the duration of his visit despite the moralimproprieties. Some things could be overlooked in a time of crisis, I surmised.