Battle of the Rhine

"Each one is tempted when he is led away and enticed by his own lust. Lust, when conceived, brings forth sin. Sin, when full-grown, brings forth death."

Michael recovered, and he was that conscientious and good soldier again.He is busy every day, like a diligent worker bee.He has to get busy, because he knows that if he is given a five-minute break, he won't be able to stop his sinful thoughts.

"Satan must live by the Rhine," Michael said, taking a sip of his coffee. "There are banshees, elves, and vampires floating in the forest."

"I don't know where Satan lives," "Big Girl" said with a gloomy expression, "but I do know that this ghostly place is the lair of the fascist devil."

"Big Girl" was squatting and smoking, the smoke curling up.Tim's death was also deeply disturbing to him.In the company he was a recruit, a few months after Tim and Michael enlisted. "Actually I don't like guys' asses," said Big Girl, "I fucking like girls with black hair."

In the old days, Michael would have joked.But now, he has a ghost in his mind - if "big girl" likes to fuck men's ass, then to hell he can have a companion. If "big girl" likes girls, then he is not guilty.An innocent man who likes a black-haired girl will not go to hell. The pastor of any church will preach like this, but the man who sneaks off the man's pants at night is different. Their souls have long been hooked by Satan and they will fall forever Purgatory.

"The bastards in the recruit company think that I like to take a bath, so they spread rumors." "Big girl" smoked a cigarette, "Fuck him, when I was in New York, I took a bath three times a day. Is there anything wrong with taking a bath? "

"That's right," Michael said. "It's fine. I like showers, too."

"Say I like men's asses, men's asses are as flat as a chopping board, why the hell should I like men's asses?"

The man's ass was not flat, Michael also lit a cigarette, and let the smoke block his tongue and mouth that were about to move.He hadn't been able to kiss Quincy's mouth yet, first of all, Quincy turned his head hard every time to prevent him from succeeding; secondly, he believed that if he tried to force Quincy's kiss, the German would definitely bite break his mouth.Michael didn't want this kind of trouble yet.

"New York has a lot of guys like that," "Big Girl" snorted, "I've seen them, in the alleys. New York is so big, there's everybody—have you ever heard of male prostitutes?"

Michael's hand holding the cigarette shook, he pretended to shake the ash, lowered his eyes to cover it up, "Hmm... a male whore?"

"There are also voluntary ones, without money."

"really weird."

"Yeah, that's weird, men cuddling with men. But what the fuck? Some dudes lay in ambush on the street with a stick and beat them. I call the cops if I see it. Fuck it, fuck it Go to California to fight, don't be under my balcony..."

Michael learned a new word, "sodoter."He'd seen a rooster jump on a hen's back, and had to admit that whoever invented the term was a genius.He fucked Quincy from behind at night.Using the word "dry" is not too accurate, men and women are not the same after all.He just rubbed between Quincy's ass and legs, stroked him, pinched his nipples.Men's nipples are smaller than women's, but they can be hard after a few pinches.Michael imagined what it would be like to bite that nipple with his mouth, and he also imagined leaving a few tooth marks on the white skin of the German with his teeth... licking his ears, sucking his tongue... "Michael? Fiennes, you've become one of the nastiest nymphomaniacs now," thought Michael, throwing the cigarette butt away, "you've been going to church for nothing."

Church and God cannot solve all problems.Old Michael used to say that God had to turn a blind eye, too, because there was shit going on all the time.Since there was no lightning strike on Michael's head, Michael assumed that God had no time to care about his depravity, or that God didn't care at all whether he was about to go to hell, surrender his soul to Satan, or not.

Therefore, Michael split his soul into two halves with peace of mind: during the day, he was a hard-working soldier who treated everyone very well, and even many German prisoners liked him, because he never beat people or robbed things. If they work hard, he will also give them small favors and verbal praise.But in the middle of the night, he was another Sergeant Fiennes, sodomizing a man of the same sex in different ways, pouring out dirty thoughts, desires, and cum.

Quincy must have been in a lot of pain, murmuring to himself in a sobbing voice while Michael fucked him.He became extremely pale and thin, and Michael could clearly feel his bones.He is listless, and the quality of his work is not as good as before.One day, as Michael was passing the trench, he saw Peter yelling at a prisoner.Michael recognized the blond hair, and he went over and took Peter's stick, saying, "Okay, don't do it—"

"This idiot is sleepwalking," Peter scolded. "Where the hell do you think this is, Hitler's castle?"

Quincy was motionless, and because of his thinness, the military uniform that should have fit seemed to be a size too large.His face was unnaturally red, and Michael grabbed his hand, and Quincy flicked it in horror, then froze again.

"He's got a fever," said Michael, his heart beating wildly.His heart raced like a wild horse when he saw Quincy.He found some aspirin and squeezed Quincy's jaw to force him to swallow. "You're a saint," said Peter, "and they won't appreciate you if you treat them well."

"It doesn't matter," Michael said.

The fever didn't stop Saint Michael from dragging Quincy into the woods at night.As the fever subsided, Michael tied Quincy to a tree.He has been very proficient in doing this continuously.The moon that day was very big, bright and white.At first Quincy gritted his teeth and said nothing, but after a while he made a choked sound, shook his head, and shrank his body against the tree trunk.

"Please, you're a good man... Please, let me go."

Michael's evil spirit has the upper hand, and reason and goodness are infinitely compressed.If he heard someone crying during the day, he would put down his gun to comfort him.At night, in the dark woods, he listened to this sound, and there was only excitement, an excitement that emanated from every pore.

"No."

Quincy choked a few times, panting with his mouth half-opened.He started whispering in that strange language that sounded a lot like prayers.After a while, he stopped chanting and switched to English, "...why didn't you kill me?"

"I won't kill you." Michael stroked that beautiful face, even though the cheeks were sunken, it was still a handsome face, "The war is over...I won't kill anyone."