nude cute twinks

Nude Cute Twinks

cate, white-booted feet kissed the ground. His eyes still riveted to the young man, a brave man separated from the encircling Dorfbewohner and stepped forward. Welcome to Uberusel, gracious travelers, he murmured, eyes only for the young man. How may we be of service to you? Who has the most presentable house in the village? the black-suited man asked. His voice was unexpected. Yes, it had the air about it of this is a command, but it was a rich, velvety baritone that was not only highly pleasant and soothing but also was arousing in ways men will know but not speak of and can hardly begin to define until it is too late for them to regain what they have lost. The voice was of such authority that the villager turned to look directly into the eyes of the black-suited man, lost now in his authority and power and never to deny him again. I must not prevaricate, the man said. It is not a matter of vanity or pride that I say it, but the finest house here is mine. I am the Burgermeister—the mayor—of Uberusel. It is my house that is the most

Nude Cute Twinks

presentable. Then call your men to carry the trunks, and I and Camael will be your guests. My name is Damien Handlanger. There was no discussion or negotiation of the matter. The Burgermeister accepted the self-proclaimed invitation without question and, calling forth a quartet of burly men from the swirl of the cavorting crowd by name, bid them to lift the trunks and carry them before the guests to the formidable timber and stuccoed mansion at the corner of the square and the main street leading up toward the count’s Schloss. Hold a minute, Handlanger muttered, as the four men lifted the trunks with a huff and a groan and began to stagger through the crowd to the edge of the square. Those four men. What would be their occupations? Hans is a stonemason, and Gunther works with the dike system up at the lake, ensuring the proper flow of our river. The other two are just heavy lifters, construction workers, although Josef, the larger of the two, is gifted at engineering problems. Good, the man in black answered. Have them come up to

Nude Cute Twinks

our rooms after dinner. And they are to bring wine. But these are not the men to be socializing with in this village, the Burgermeister answered in somewhat of a wounded huff. They have never even been in my house. We are a wealthy town. There are many prominent families here. And some of them have lovely daughters. The last sentence was said in sotto voce, and the Burgermeister was flashing a lascivious wink at his newfound guest. And several among those are very accommodating, the Burgermeister whispered. All in good time, Handlanger snapped, which brought the Burgermeister up short. The tone of his guest’s voice sent shivers down his spine. Handlanger’s voice modulated into silkiness once more. Lest you misunderstand, I am an architect. These are strong-looking men, and you describe skills I may have need of. That is what I wish to see them about. Chastened, the Burgermeister turned toward his home in embarrassment and began leading the two guests toward his front step, standing on which could be seen his buxom wife, the downs

Nude Cute Twinks

tairs maid who brazenly held her position on the stoop because of her position in the Burgermeister’s bed, and a teeming gaggle of gawking and bumptious children. Once the three were beyond the steaming circle of stones, a whip was cracked, horses neighed and pawed the ground with the clang of metal on stone, and the massive black carriage was thundering off and had disappeared from view almost before it had reached the enfolding arms of a narrow passageway headed into the upper village. As the Burgermeister and his awesome guests processed, a lane opened for them, less because of the authority of the Burgermeister as for the shudder-inducing passage of the man in the black suit. They would have averted their eyes from him anyway, but the presence of the beautiful angel in white gave them something tangible to fawn upon as he passed and to dream about and, woman and man alike, to speculate about and to entertain arousing sensations over. Not all in the square were so wide-ranging in the senses—enticing, arousing, amused, and fears

Nude Cute Twinks

ome all at once—at the duo the black carriage had brought to the town square. Standing in the shadows, in the small copse of trees sheltering the city fountain, stood the count’s sheriff, Maxmilian. Not a native of the village, but a former soldier from the north of Germany, Maxmilian was more worldly than any of these country bumpkins. He had been in the world, had seen both good and evil. And lately, in service to and in the bed of the count, he had learned much of domination and cruelty. Sometimes Maxmilian himself had been good and sometimes he had been evil, and he was a keen judge of humankind. He watched the arrival of Damien Handlanger and his young protégé, Camael, with eyes that were open and calculating. And he knew that his work, as the count’s sheriff, and as a protector of Swabia was being cut large for him. He wondered what reward was in store for him in the Schloss for a discerning report on the events in the village square that morning. * * * * Bringing order to the house of the Burgermeister should be his first p

Nude Cute Twinks

riority, Damien thought, as he looked with disgust at the boisterous brats surrounding the Burgermeister’s buxom and pinched-nosed wife as they approached Handlanger’s new, if temporary, home. The wife first, certainly. No fool she, and a schemer and gossip to boot. The slut of a housemaid was less of a problem. She had the slouch of a dullard about her. The brats must be dispensed with immediately; Damien could do nothing useful with them swarming through the structure. He was, however, presented with other avenues for starting. It had been a boon to have identified helpers so soon. First them and then the symbols of authority, perhaps. As luck would have it, though, the village priest was the first. Not long after Damien and Camael had been shown to a commodious apartment of three rooms, on the first level above the street, with a chamber for each of them separated by a common room—where Damien planned to do common things after his dinner—the church bell started to ring and the Burgermeister attended them and said a required mas

Nude Cute Twinks

s was soon to begin. Damien was disgusted and his stomach churned at the mere thought of a mass, but he was early to the village and to his plan. This was the most delicate phase of the plan, its initiation, so there was nothing to be done but for him to signal to Camael and to follow the Burgermeister and his disruptive brood across the square to the main village church. Priester Anasvindo was at the altar already, preparing the elements, as his premier congregants entered and took their place in the front pews. His eyes went immediately to the blond angel. He’d seen the arrival. He’d been drawn to the square along with the others because of the unannounced harbinger sun of summer and had stood at the edge of the teeming throng to watch the descent from the carriage of the curious, repelling, compelling strangers. The malevolent force in black had made him tremble and lift his cross involuntarily to shake uncontrollably between him and the apparition. And then the angel had appeared at the door to the carriage, and Priester Anasv

indo had been transported into his other world. The effect of this perfect young man was such on him that the priest had withdrawn from the edge of the crowd, a clawed hand pressed firmly into the yielding shoulder of the chorister who had been practicing in the church before they all felt the call of the sunshine, and he took the village youth into the sacristy and fucked all of the urges out of himself that the appearance of the white angel had aroused. And now he, the compelling angel, was here, in his church sanctuary, sitting in the first of the pews, and, as the ritual began was singing in a clear, pure soprano that floated out above all of the rest. The chorister who had felt Priester Anasvindo’s rod was missing, snuffling and sniffing in the bell tower, but the young stranger’s voice was even more beautiful than his. Priester Anasvindo turned, not really knowing why he was doing so, and beckoned to the young singer of beauty, inviting him to take the place of the missing chorister in the pews behind the altar. And to his s

urprise, after looking to the man in black for guidance, the white angel had glided up into the choir pew and lifted his voice once more over all of the rest in an Ava Maria. Priester Ansavindo turned the ritual over to two monks assisting him a

Schreibe einen Kommentar

Deine E-Mail-Adresse wird nicht veröffentlicht. Erforderliche Felder sind mit * markiert.