The Master Spy

The time when my father was completely ruined and his heart broke, is completely faded from my memory, as well as the funeral and the strange relatives who did not know me, but kissed me and made out with me as if we were close. God knows how close. I also don't remember the first time I heard the word suicide, during a low whispering, which almost had a mocking undertone.

I remember few of the "uncles" who came and went with us and disappeared in the course the time disappeared. Only fragmentarily I remember an "uncle" and former friend of my grandfather, who offered us his help. Although my mother — actually my grandmother — a beautiful woman in her forties I did not understand at that time why Uncle Frieder — as he was called — patted me on the cheek patronizingly and was already very victorious because he was allowed to stay with us from time to time. As much as I was pleased by his souvenirs, I suffered from not being allowed to sleep with my mother and to sleep in the hated nursery. Of course I was jealous because Uncle Frieder was allowed to stay with her over night. My distraction must have had a very strong effect, because after some time the uncle stayed away and I was allowed to sleep with her again. At that time I suffered very much at night with my fears and accordingly tried to compensate for this during the day by being particularly brave. At night the fearful boy who clung to his mother, and in the daylight the intrepid master spy. Although until then still some years passed.

We played with the neighboring children almost exclusively gang games; whether it was Indians against cowboys, robbers against gendarmes or Rinaldo Rinaldini against the imperials, we were always in a large crowd on the road. But the most exciting games for me were the Secret Society games. Although dismissed as being too young, I understood it and managed to be admitted as a foreigner and a spy and to be tortured accordingly or hanging miserably at the stake, desperately waiting for Mother's call to the afternoon snack.

I was a born spy, who followed the secret allies unseen and was almost never caught. Probably that's why I felt like a master spy, because I was really spying on the others. And because I was interested in everything that had to do with sex. In retrospect I was really only interested in sex.

Often I hid in a basement, which, as I found out, was the Secret meeting place of the "Black Hand", the most secret Secret society of about 11 to 13 year old boys. I crouched on a pile of wood in the dark back room and held my breath. In this hiding place they never discovered me.

One day four of the "Black Hand" approached the cellar and dragged off a prisoner, Kiki, who was about the same age, behind them. I knew exactly what was going to happen now: those from the "gang of the Red Corsair" would soon invade, hooting and hollering and free Kiki with loud screams and scuffles, that was always the case. — Just not today.

One had to clearly stand to the entrance and keep a lookout. The others chatted back and forth and teased Kiki, who was kicking and kicking and kicking around against the bandits. All at once she was lying on the ground, two of them were holding her, and Franz, the eldest, pulled up the skirt of the wildly kicking up. He held her tightly and pushed her legs a little apart, and all three looked at her cleft, but did not touch her and were actually quite embarrassed. Franz now carefully groped for her cleft. Kiki, frozen with fright, lay there with her eyes wide open eyes and was stunned when the boy touched her cunt and labia and carefully pulled them apart to look inside. Franz looked puzzled when he suddenly saw a bright beam coming from the open cleft, a bright ray shot towards him and Kiki for all completely surprisingly pissing in a wide arc on the cellar floor. The fourth left now faithlessly his post and looked so that his eyes almost popped out. I could see only little from my point of view, but I became thereby nevertheless quite beautifully hot.

Kiki lay there quiet as a mouse, trembling and staring at the four of them with wide open eyes, while still a small trickle ran from her cleft. After a while Franz said, now it was good and that they would release Kiki again. She got up and ran away as if driven by furies. My four gallows birds stood around helplessly, until Franz said that now a special oath was necessary, because they must never‐never‐‐never tell anyone about it.

That my existence as a master spy had its justification, became clear to me on these few occasions. The bigger ones, whose gang activities always revolved around all kinds of secrecy, but which had nothing excitingly sexual, always took a very long time before they would to get involved in playing with their cocks or pussies, and usually only half‐heartedly. Nevertheless, I always tried to eavesdrop on these secret activities. That the adults had their secrets too was instinctively clear to me. I tried, I couldn't find out anything concrete, except for the one time when our janitor went into the basement and a short time later one of the younger women, Irene's mother, also went down to the basement, anxiously making sure that no one would see her. I followed an intuition, climbed out of the back of the house through the window and crawled, agent‐like, behind some boxes. The janitor had placed Irene's mother on a table against the wall and stood between her open thighs. He pushed back and forth without a word, and she leaned against the wall, keeping her eyes closed and wiggled horribly on the dilapidated table, while the janitor stubbornly pushed back and forth. With all at once he stopped, puffed a little, then fiddled with his fly and went up without a word. Irene's mother tugged her skirt into place and, looking around cautiously looking around. I waited for a long time before I retreated. That "it" was this, I suspected, but I repressed it almost immediately.

Once I, the Master spy, the "secret society of the rose"; as the Girls whispered to each other: "Meeting place half past three with Irene." Since I had often visited Irene's brother Peter at home, I knew how to sneak in unseen before the meeting. In Irene's room, I hid in a closet, behind whose ajar doors I remained invisible in the midst of musty smelling curtains and and blankets and from where I could overlook the whole room. It took a while until Irene, Ursula and Evi came in.

The two or so 12 year olds and the about 14‐year‐old Evi chatted quietly and smoked only times together a cigarette, which they had apparently stolen. They sat in a circle, while the cigarette went around, and I could sometimes see Evi's and Ursula's clefts under their skirts, because in those days girls usually wore nothing under their skirts in the summer. At first it seemed like a coincidence that while they were smoking, they plucked at their crevices here and there, apparently chatting. After the cigarette had been extinguished, Evi leaned back relaxed, pulled up her skirt and left her thighs open, grinning; she was thick and pimply and her cleft glowed red beneath the blond fuzz. "I think, I need it again," she said with a meaningful look at Irene, "I'm so insanely horny!" Her hand with the thick sausage fingers slid to her cleft and

And now, right now, the highly aroused master spy had to sneeze.

The three of them jumped up and dragged me out of the closet. They looked at each other with highly red heads and discussed what should happen to me now. Irene wanted to immediately betraye me to her mother, but the other two saved me from this disgrace by talking about torture, severe torture and flogging. Evi, however, looked at me thoughtfully and said, "He has seen us naked, so let's take his pants off, too." which they did right away, even though I resisted briefly but bravely. I stood between two large Girls, who held me iron, while Evi took off my pants and I stood there with my small, frightened cock.

Evil they were actually not, but terribly curious. Evi carefully grabbed my cock, grinned and said, isn't he but cute! Then she kneaded him around, but she did not do too much. After that they guided me to Irene's bed, they pressed me down and held me in such a way that there was a fury on my legs and arms and I could not move. Strange it felt already, when I could feel their warm and moist crevices on my skin as they held me down.

Then all three of them groped my little one, turning him back and forth and giggling as they felt palpated my scrotum. Evi seemed to know more and pulled carefully back the foreskin, so that the glans slipped out. She showed the small gap to the others and said that the men would piss and squirt from this hole. One after the other, they fingered me, pulled back the foreskin again and again back and felt the glans, while my cock began to grow and soon stood small, crooked and stiff to the sky. Although he was in the most miserable situation of his life, the master spy was getting a little horny.

Then Evi giggled that this thing, if it was so stiff, could be put into the cleft to make children, but she wanted of course still none. Thereupon Irene meant rather precociously that she already often watched Peter jerk off and squirt. Ursula looked at her helplessly, then Irene took hold and began to jerk me off carefully. I began to tremble, and Evi asked if it was coming already, I gasped, no, but that I had to piss urgently. Irene stopped immediately, reached under the bed and brought out the night pot. She looked at me demanding, only I could so, in front of the girls, I just could not piss. She bent my cock a little, so that it was now aimed at the chamber pot, and after a long wait long wait, I finally pissed, while the girls were watching from close range, as the jet from the meanwhile softened cock splashed into the chamber pot.

When I had finished, Irene wiped with a skirt tail rather ungently over my glans and cleared away the night dish. Then Evi sat down on my thighs, spread her legs and acted as if she would push my cock into her cleft. But of course she was only pretending; I was amazed at how pleasant warm Evi's cleft felt against my glans. Evi was older than the others and also more experienced. Now she tried seriously to get it in. However, my cock was not even half stiff, so that it remained only with these attempts. She was cautious and timid, because she was still a virgin, which I understood only in the course of their discussions. I scared me half to death, because I feared that she wanted to let my cock disappear in her hole and I was completely unclear how it would be in there.

Evi grabbed my cock again with her hand and rubbed until it became firmer, then she pulled it slowly up and down her cleft, while she used her other hand she pulled the labia slightly outward, creating a warm, wet slide for my glans. The two others gaped, and it did me an awful lot of good. As she moved faster and faster with the glans and brushed her cunt up and down, I flinched all at once. Now all three reached over to feel the twitching. Evi said, with her it would twitch just as coming, but then she fell silent and the three looked at each other in embarrassment. Irene said, oh what, he can't really squirt like Peter and wiped off the glans. Then they watched giggling as he slowly went limp and retreated to the normal position.

I had to swear a thousand oaths not to betray anything and was finally allowed to leave. They teased me later sometimes, but nothing ever happened again.

Times got rougher when in our neighborhood a wild loner, who was soon called only the man‐eater, appeared. No one liked her, and she liked no one; she was much older than the big ones, perhaps already over twenty, and still not right in the head. We didn't play with her, but she would show up sometimes and interfere, cursing and swearing so that parents threw their hands up in horror when they heard our newly learned curses. She would hit and fight with the boys in an almost merciless rage, and could disappear as suddenly as she appeared. After that there were rumors that she was attacking little boys. One day, the master spy was assigned to scout the Man‐eater out.

I was pretty scared and went accordingly cautiously at work. After a few days I knew everything, where she lived, where she had her hiding place. In the the old school, which had been empty for a long time and should have been demolished for a long time, she had made herself a small nest. Only when I was sure that she was on the way, I rummaged through her things. I stuffed stuffed my sacks full of the stolen goods and ran back to my comrades. I was the hero of the day, as many of the things that had had inexplicably disappeared, had now reappeared.

The man‐eater did not reappear no more for a few days, soon we took care of our things and forgot about her. I sometimes crept to the boiler room, but didn't see her again. Until one day she arrived with Peter in tow. Peter was a lot older than me, a head taller and much stronger. She had his arm behind his back and dragged her prisoner into the boiler room. I could no longer get out, I hid behind the large big boiler and held my breath. She had to eventually discover me, it was only a matter of time, and I was already dying half with fear.

But she concentrated on Peter and made quite a bit of noise as she threw him down on the old mattress and tied his hands left and right to the heating pipes. Peter just looked defiant, he knew what was waiting for him and did not offer any significant resistance. Not even when the man‐eater took off his pants. On the contrary, it seemed to me that he was grinning, the cursed guy.

Oh yes, that again! My heart pounded as she took Peter's semi‐stiff cock in her hand and began to press and tug on it. Within minutes Peter's cock stiffened completely, and she rubbed it, giggling in between when he winced at her treatment. Soon the little red glans was stiff as the man‐eater rubbed it around a bit, pausing every now and then to again and again to look at her work. The man‐eater squeezed and squeezed his cock and grinned crookedly at him, then she let him go.

She went down over him and squatted, pulled her skirt up over her knees and thigh and gathered it together with one hand in front of her belly, so that I could see her bare ass. I looked fascinated at her white ass and the tuft of hair that was visible between her legs. She took Peter's cock in one hand, lowered the the black tuft of hair slowly over it and sat down carefully on it.

I broke out in a sweat when Peter's cock disappeared in the tuft of hair between her ass cheeks — my heart beat wildly! She began now, up and down in the squat, Peter's cock became half visible again and disappeared again in the tuft of hair, where her cleft must be. Now she was bobbing her bottom up and down and and spreading her knees, Peter stared at her abdomen and held still; I guessed that it must be terribly painful, because he was panting and stiffening quite violently. The man‐eater grunted as Peter thrust firmly upward and she lifted her ass higher. She reached between her thighs grinning at his cock, which pumped firmly in her hole until it slid out and splashed onto her tuft of hair from below.

My heart beat wildly like a steam engine and I thought I was about to faint, but I remained motionless at my post and held my breath. The man‐eater wiped herself with her skirt between her legs and went into the neighboring basement room, where she farted loudly before grunting. I took advantage of the moment, slipped out quietly and ran away as fast as I could. I ran home to our gang and breathlessly told Franz, the leader, that Peter was captured and being tortured. She would pinch him by the cock and so, I said rather embarrassed, because I didn't want to say the terrible word.

Franz and the pack moved off to free Peter. They returned after half an hour with Peter, who presented the matter quite differently from me — as a heroic deed, of course — .

Well, anyway, I was for days the laughing stock of the troops.