The Nanny

On my first years of life in the state capital I remember hardly, just as little as my biological parents, who on a bright September Sunday during the vacation at Lake Constance with the on their grandfather's sailing boat and never returned. They never found out later more exactly, they had to capsized in the sudden storm and drowned; in any case, nothing has been found of them or of the boat. I was only a few months old when my parents died and stayed with my grandparents, where I grew up as their child. It was only natural that I called them father and mother. My grandfather had a well‐established specialized in imports, and he did everything he could to keep the business going in the difficult post‐war period, until the world economic crisis brought him and the Great Depression ruined him from one day to the next and drove him to his death.

We had several nannies, for a bourgeois family, even an impoverished one, which in the course of impoverishment had to move to a smaller apartment, could not get along without a nanny. There must have been several in the course of time, but I remember only one.

She was a black madonna, a beautiful girl with bronze skin and long raven hair. She was sometimes called gypsy and that she might yet bewitch everyone and also father would be bewitched, by the witch, that! And she was completely corrupted, although she was still half a child. Today I suspect that she was at most 14 or 15 years old and probably one of the many "rented" Roma children.

I loved her like I loved no other, was quite spoiled a pink prince in the pampering country. Secretly I was allowed to sleep with her in the anteroom: if the parents did not notice, I sneaked to her and begged until she let me crawl under her blanket.

Sometimes, when I crept into the anteroom, where she slept on a decrepit sofa, I saw her, as she, under her half slipped up nightgown, lying on the floor and peering under the door slit peering into the neighboring master bedroom. Of course I was also curious and also wanted to see everything; but there was nothing but darkness and the sound of old bedsteads and the rustling of bedclothes, sometimes a soft, unintelligible word or a soft gasp in between. I wondered how one could stare into the dark nothingness for so long and understood nothing at all.

So we often lay conspiratorially on the floor in front of the door in the beginning and stared and listened, but I did not know what for. When I asked her once in a whisper, I got no real answer. But I was now allowed to sleep next to her more and more often, and and obviously she carried me back to my own bed every morning before I got, so that this remained our secret.

It was nice to smell her naked, fragrant skin and then blissfully fall asleep. With the time we played then mother and child, I was allowed to take her nipple in my mouth and suck and suck a little, usually she giggled then and withdrew me — it was wonderful games that became more intense every day.

Later I lay snuggled close to her back and breathed in her scent. Sometimes I felt how she, after the door‐slit adventures, but always after the mother‐and‐child play, became restless and when she thought I was asleep, she would move her body from side to side and pressed a hand firmly between the thighs. But I understood nothing yet, of course, and only felt how she was busy with herself, but not with me, so I tried all the tricks to regain her attention.

When she was so restless in bed and had her hand between her thighs, swaying back and forth, up and down, and I could see her face and her closed eyes only dimly in the twilight. I was a little scared and snuggled up close to her. Then she immediately stopped, put an arm around me and pressed me against her side ‐I was then immediately calmed down. If I lay there quietly long enough, feigning sleep, I could feel her wiggling and shaking again in one go and shook a little and then breathed loudly. After that she stroked me sweetly and gave me a wet, heartfelt goodnight kiss, before I finally fell asleep.

I was very curious and wanted to know everything, of course! So I tried more and more often to put my hand on hers and wanted to feel what she did there, if it so wobbled. At first she pushed me away, but I was persistent and in time she allowed me to put my hand on hers: it was wonderful to feel that hand going back and forth and up and down and in and out, and then suddenly it would stop and only the abdomen twitched, while the hand remained pressed on it.

Evening for evening I dared a little more, only hesitantly she let me discover more little secrets. But soon she let me lie very close to her, my hand wandered along with hers and then all at once I was with my hand slipped under her hand and felt the warm, moist and sticky, which she loved to rub. I already wanted to take my hand back, but she held my hand under hers firmly on the warm, moist, until she stopped wiggling and rubbing. While I with my little hand could feel how "it" was similar to the dying snails in the garden, she hugged me sweetly until I fell asleep.

This soon became routine, now it was clear to me that she had to rub to fall asleep, she had to rub a little on her warm moist, and that was okay. One evening, after she had bathed me extensively and had also rubbed my cock clean with the washcloth, she looked at the little stiff one for a long time, but said nothing.

In that night we whispered very quietly, and she said that I really mustn't tell anyone about it, otherwise it would come out that I was sleeping with her, and the father would probably beat me up very hard. Then she began to feel my cock again and lightly pressing and rubbing it, so that it became stiff. When she asked how it was, I said with hot Cheeks, it was very exciting, but fine. Now she slowly took off the nightgown, which she did very rarely, I could see her small pointed breasts, which I loved so much. Then she also took off my nightgown.

I was embarrassed because it was so hard now, standing away in front, and also, because I felt a strong tingling and throbbing when she felt him, palpated and lightly stroked him. It was wonderful to feel myself naked to nestle against her naked skin. After some time she stopped with this game and said that we should hide him now, and then she let me lie on her naked belly and pressed me against her: so, now he is well hidden. I felt him between our stomachs, while she already started a bit with her wiggling and rubbing. When I moved sideways back and forth, my cock was gently nudged. But then she rocked me back and forth during her rubbing on her back and forth on her belly, so that my little cock was firmly rubbed on her belly and became even stiffer and my heart began to beat wildly. Startled, I let myself slide sideways and I snuggled blissfully against her, while the hand‐in‐hand game continued.

So we played, more and more often I lay naked on her belly with my little stiffy, until one day she pushed me obviously very excited a little deeper on her belly, so that my little cock lie directly from the outside on her warm, moist snail. I felt exactly how she wildly rubbed the warm, moist with her fingertips and pushed the soft skin back and forth, while she pressed me and my little one firmly. After a long time she sighed loudly, the warm wetness began to twitch and to press against my little cock. It was a great game and a new secret, just for both of us. I felt this strong tingling and tension in my little cock more and more beautiful and instinctively began to understand that it must be unbelievably beautiful for her to rub against her warm and wet snail until it twitched.

When I realized this, our play was the same almost every day; first I rolled back and forth and up and down on her belly for so long, until my little hard‐on got the nice strong feeling and afterwards I let myself slide sideways into her arm, pushed a hand gently under her rubbing hand and then felt, how she rubbed herself, until the warm wet began to throb and twitch — after which I got my kiss and also fell asleep immediately.

Never was I allowed to see her naked in the light, except when she was bathing, she would take me with her. I was smart enough to keep our secret until the end. Only when she bathed me, when I was dried by her and my cock stiffened, I looked at her conspiratorially, but she said nothing and pretended not to notice. I also invented a great game, namely to put me "stupid" when peeing then she had to hold my little cock with two fingers, her small fingers, look closely at the little pipsqueak and make sure that the jet did not miss, then she shook and shook and cleaned it off very carefully, which I liked especially. I'm sure she had a little fun doing it but she did it as if everything was serious and businesslike.

I was very jealous of my father when he would lay on top of her and made our game. But she said that I should not spy through the crack in the door and not to say anything to anyone, or she would have a terrible row. I don't remember how long all this went on and exactly how old I was at that time. One day, however, she was no longer there, and in spite of all my crying she never came back.

She has decisively shaped my life, my sexuality, and I don't even remember her name.