Battle of the Rhine

Doing that with your mouth was something Michael had only heard of before.For him, this is a legend.Tim said vividly that in the French brothels, the girls paid a third less for talking, but the enjoyment was the same, if not better.

But Michael didn't enjoy it at all, Quincy's blond hair was buried in his crotch, and the tip of his tongue was licking the sticky dick.After licking for a while, the German raised his face and looked at Michael's expression in bewilderment—it was definitely his first time doing this, and he was inexperienced. His teeth grazed the foreskin, and Michael trembled in pain. "No no no," Michael said, "no, no, really, you don't have to—"

Quincy looked down, another stream of tears fell.Michael had never imagined that anyone could cry so beautifully, and the tears misted those eyes like blue gems through the mist.Quincy licked for a while, sobbing, staring blankly at the cock.Michael quickly sat up, "That, that is, I—"

"..."

Quincy didn't give up, he took Michael's dick in his mouth like a sausage.His eyelids were drooping, and the dry tears reflected slightly in the corners of his eyes.The scene was so exciting that Michael could barely hold it back. "Please," he pleaded, gasping for air, "please, Carl, you don't have to do this kind of thing, I fucking—"

All right, he confessed.The cock bounced a few times in Quincy's mouth, and the cum spurted out.Quincy knelt there blankly, expressionless.Michael took the opportunity to pull out his stuff, for God's sake!He pulled up his trousers and hugged Quincy, shaking slightly, "God, spit it out, my God, I'm sorry, I really, I really—"

Quincy shook his head like a puppet, and Michael pinched his jaw anxiously, "Spit it out! Oh, God, it's so dirty, come on, spit it out!"

It's useless, it's too late.Quincy had swallowed Michael's foul cum. "God, God," Michael murmured, "God, what did I do..."

"What did I do?" Quincy whispered. "What did I do?"

"No, no, it's not your problem." Michael lifted him up, dragged him to the bed with a half hug and half hug, untied his clothes, and wrapped the shivering body with a quilt, "You are right, my dear, You're right... I'm wrong, I'm a jerk, you know, a piece of trash..."

"I've committed a crime," said Quincy, covering his face with his hands, "because I've committed a crime—"

"Okay okay, don't think about it." Michael's earlier anger was gone, and he regretted arguing with Quincy on Saturday.It was never wise to quarrel with a drunk, and he would never have quarreled with John Hunter.And he didn't know that Quinnessy had Legionnaires' syndrome! "I'm such an asshole," Michael put his arms around Quincy, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Carl, please forgive me! You're right, I shouldn't have taken your picture..."

He broke Quincy's hand covering his face, and the man was indeed crying silently. "Hit me," Michael said, "don't cry, come on, hit me, hit me. God, Michael Fiennes is a badass, you don't know... have you eaten seriously these days? Did you sleep well? Charlie went to find me. I thought about it for a long time and thought I was the one who made you angry... I didn’t mean to break the contract, Carl, no, I’m sorry, you are upset, I understand. Ugly, can't talk, can't even cut a sausage...forgive me, please..."

Quincy cried for a while and began to retch.Michael hurriedly helped him to the bathroom sink.Quincy hadn't had lunch at least today, and couldn't vomit anything.He held his stomach, his hair soaked in cold sweat.Michael grabbed his hand to wash it, and was shocked to find that his forearms were full of bite marks, some of which were extremely deep, and there were band-aids stuck in all directions.Michael tore open one, and the wound turned horribly, bloody.

"My God," cried Michael, "how can this be done!"

He put Quincy's coat on and helped him into the jeep.The Mueller family looked across the fence. Mr. Mueller said in a rough voice, holding a pair of shears for pruning flowers, "Carl, are you okay?"

"I have a fever," said Quincy, very weak. "Go to the hospital."

Mr. Muller stared at Michael, examining him.Michael was too lazy to pay attention to this kind of unfriendliness at this time. He was so anxious that he rushed out of the path as soon as he stepped on the gas pedal.In the clinic, the doctor gave Quincy two injections and put on a bandage. "Are you all right?" asked the old dark-haired doctor. "This is—"

"I'm not in a good mood," Quincy said. "I'm always thinking about the past."

For young people of this age, some things are self-evident.The old doctor's eyes were full of sympathy, which made Michael even more ashamed.On the way back, when the street lights had just been turned on, Quincy suddenly said, "It's delayed your overtime work."

"It's okay, it's still running without me." Michael gripped the steering wheel tightly, "Are you hungry? You must be hungry? How about I treat you to dinner?"

"No, thank you."

"I...I can't speak," Michael was silent for a while, groped in his pocket, and took out a few pieces of fruit candy, "I don't have much education, so I went to college by... by the war. I got a college degree, but Not like your kind. You're the real college student. I mean, Carl, you don't have to, really, I'm a rotten guy... I'm dumb, not smart. I've done a lot to mess with you An annoying bad thing, you hate me, hate me, I can understand...but you don't have to do this to yourself."

A car drives by, the family sedan that Michael dislikes the most. "You are amazing, graduated from the University of Munich...Charlie is proud of you. You became a supervisor at a young age. As for me, I was just lucky. No one wanted to apply for this position, so I managed to find a job. .Besides, you are a nobleman," he stared at the dark blue sky in front of him, "I am just a farmer grazing cattle, no different from a fool. You really don't have to punish yourself for my mistakes."

"I'm a Nazi," Quincy said, looking sideways, looking out the car window. "Nazi, you deserve it, don't you? People say that. I deserve it, Mike. What I've suffered is what I deserve."

"It's been five years since the war ended," Michael said. "Don't even think about it."

"It won't be over in fifty years," Quincy said, closing his eyes wearily. "The war will stay in my heart until the day of death."

At night, Michael fed Quincy milk and washed his hair and body.Then they crowded into the cot, and Michael kept kissing Quincy's hair and cheeks.Quincy clutches Michael's hand and falls asleep.In the second half of the night, he really developed a fever, and he was able to go to work the next morning.And Michael stayed up all night, he secretly decided to temporarily give up the idea of ​​moving, at least he couldn't move until Quincy recovered mentally.