Rob’s visit to a beer hall results in an encounter with a hunky German in lederhosen and not much else, and before Rob knows it, he’s on his knees again! Can he satisfy this new German alpha?
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Rob was stuffed full of sausage and mustard, and now he was eager to find a different kind of sausage. Over the last couple weeks, Rob had been touring the regions of Germany, and he was now in Berlin, enjoying the sights and sounds of Die graue Stadt. But he’d had enough currywursts and deconstructed plays on sauerkraut. He wanted to experience the real German gestalt.
The city was warm and windy tonight, unseasonably so in the early autumn. The streets were safe, which was unusual for Rob. He was used to calibrating his nighttime exploits by the safety of the different neighborhoods he was in. He’d have never worn these expensive Calaio shoes alone at night in most downtowns of American cities.
Rob wanted to stay outside and enjoy the night, but he didn’t want to waste his time. This vacation wouldn’t last forever, and he shouldn’t waste it doing nothing. It didn’t seem there was anything going on on the streets of Berlin. Not wanting to return to his hotel, he sought out some nightlife.
So he went into the first nightclub he saw. It turned out to be a rather old, not very hip club, playing dansmusik, which was just dorky enough to be charming. There was an accordion, a fat woman singing songs that may have been in Bavarian, it certainly wasn’t standard High German, which Rob spoke well.
The customers swilling down beer and eating yet more of the ever-present German sausages were a wide range of groups, both pairs and larger throngs of friends or families or coworkers, it was hard to tell. They were both men and women, mingling together — flirting? Or were they families? It was hard to tell. The men were not really his type. Rob was a fine connoisseur of the male form, but the men here did not have the kind of physiques worth admiring. They were mostly thin, tall, stately — he liked men who were rough, crude and dangerous. The men here were sparse and unpleasant. The poor women having to sleep with them, it must be like cuddling with a typewriter.
He made his way across the dancefloor. There were a lot of women here, that was the first thing he had noticed. A lot of hot women. The women were hotter than the men were handsome. That did not bode well for his chances of finding a man. A lot of women meant no desperate Manns.
He decided to try his luck elsewhere. There had to be a better nightclub.
So without a pause, he headed out and towards the seedy side of town. He hadn’t gotten very far when he saw a Bier Palas that was still open. It was very touristy, so he wasn’t sure if it was for him. Rob wasn’t in Germany for the tourist stuff — he wanted men. He wanted to touch and taste them, he wanted to savor every drop of German manhood.
But he went to the door just to pop his head inside. It was mostly women, he saw, once again, just like the nightclub (why are there so many German women?! Damn it!). Fat tourists guzzled cheap, watered-down beer. The girls were dressed as frumpy fraus in dirndls, with big tits mostly visible, like if a Hooters restaurant were tossed back in time to the late 19th century.
“Guten Abend.” A man’s dour voice filled the air.
Rob turned around and gulped nervously. Was he in trouble?
The man in front of him was an intimidating sight, broadly muscled, exuding heat and authority. He was nearly seven feet tall and built like a professional wrestler, with arms bigger than Rob’s head and a broad strapping chest like he was part-Volkswagen. He was blond and squarish, with a very Teutonic face and a crooked nose like der Kämpfer. His hair was short and neatly combed. He crossed those massive arms over his chest.
“Oh, hallo,” Rob said. Now that he had taken in the man’s towering physique, Rob was turned on. He also noticed now that this man — Hans according to his nametag — worked for the Bier Palas. He was a bouncer or security guard of some sort. He had that face. A man with a face like that could only ever work security. He was too square-jawed and solid to do any other work.
That meant he was dressed like an employee, in traditional German garb. He wore liederhosen and a green and white shirt. This Bier Palas did not have a uniform that fit him well, so the liederhosen were too short, stopping well above the knee, and his muscles bulged out of the clothes.
The German man grunted. “Are you the thief?”
“What?”
He paused, eyeing Rob up and down. He frowned, and Rob’s heart raced. Hans casually opened Rob’s shirt pocket and peered inside. He wrinkled his nose when he did not find whatever it was he searched for.
“Someone has been picking the pockets of our customers as they leave.” He paused. “Wenn du der Dieb bist, werde ich dich fangen.” He waited for Rob to show he understood the German — which Rob did, but poorly enough he could pretend he didn’t.
Rob nodded. “Oh, yeah, I swear, that wasn’t me. I don’t do that. I actually have plenty of money,” he said. “I wanted to ask you something. My name is Rob,” he said. He blushed and stammered because Hans was such an imposing figure wie eine Statue eines heidnischen Gottes. “I wanted to offer you a job, of sorts. It’s not the kind of job you are used to, I assume-“
“Please be quick.” He inhaled deeply and glowered at Rob. “I have a firm schedule. It must not be deviated from. I am to return to work, as I have job duties that are mine to perform shortly.”
“Oh, yes, well, I can offer you money,” Rob said. “If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine, I don’t want to hold you up-“
“Then hurry and say.”
“I will pay you five hundred euros to cornhole me.” He paused, but Hans had no reaction. “Are you okay? What do you think?” He tweaked Hans’s bicep, which was harder than Rob expected, Hans must have been an amateur bodybuilder, he thought, with skin like Alabasterstein. He laughed and stroked it again, but Hans pushed his hand away. For a moment though, Rob’s hand stayed there, atop Hans’s rippling muscles.
“You are offering me money to handle my penis. You will masturbate it, and you will use your mouth, yes?”
“Well… Yes, that’s right,” Rob said. “Very efficiently stated. No romance at all, perfect.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I was just teasing you, Hans.”
“Do not. It is waste of time, yes? I have schedule. You have schedule. Let us reach conclusion.”
“I don’t actually have a schedule.”
“You are just wandering? Loosey the goosey?” He waved his arms around in a way that maybe was, to Germans, reminiscent of a loose goose. Rob didn’t get it.
“Sorry, I was just… I don’t like to schedule every second of my time,” Rob said. He sighed. “Do you want to do it or not?”
He flared his nostrils. “Yes. I will do. But I will not interrupt my workplace. That would be inefficient. I have a job to do.” He pointed to a door in the alley, behind the door into the Bier Palas. “Go in there and wait.”
He didn’t stick around to see if Rob would do it. Rob hesitated but did so. It was a small vestibule with a locked door on the other side, beyond which were a few offices. Rob guessed these were the administrative offices for the Bier Palas.
After an hour or so, Hans returned. He still had his lederhosen on, his powerful thighs filling them out nicely. It looked like they didn’t have liederhosen in a size big enough to fit him, so he practically bulged out of the trousers. He came into the small vestible, locked the door behind himself and frowned at Rob.
“Do it.”
Rob’s eyes opened wide. “Uh… Hans? You mean-?”
Hans’s lips were pursed. “I said do it. You want me to give penis, you must do it.”
“Oh, yeah, okay. I just thought, uh…”
Hans stood there stiff as a board, arms crossed over his massive chest. He was so tall Rob could barely reach his shoulders at all. Rob touched Hans’s flat stomach through his shirt, then started to lift it over his chest. The blond hairs on his belly were fine und Weich, and his skin was perfectly smooth, soft as butter in a churn. His six-pack rippled beneath Rob’s touch.
Hans stopped him. “You said you wished to have dick of mine. Like oral and anal penis? Yes?”
“Uh, well… yeah.”
“You do not need to take my shirt off. It could become wrinkled. It would be inefficient,” Hans said.
“Oh. I, uh… I mean, I think if I am paying for it… It would be nice… Okay, fine…” Rob’s voice trailed off. Hans narrowed his eyes to slits, and Rob realized it was best to just move on. He didn’t mind jacking off Manns in clothes.
Hans wore lederhosen, which were like britches and overalls combined, so they were held up with straps that ran over his chest. His pectoral muscles bulged against the straps. Rob was going to undo the straps, but Hans raced to do it like he was in a hurry. He gently but firmly pushed Rob to his knees.
“You are wasting time,” Hans said. “I have the schedule, yes? It is to follow. Hurry to complete your tasks, please.” His ill-fitting lederhosen were tight around the knees, so they didn’t fall all the way down. They just lowered enough to give Rob access zu seinem Schritt, clad in plain, unadorned but perfectly clean briefs. Rob thought that was cute: virtually no men between eighteen and eighty wore briefs back in America.
Hans took his briefs down, again doing it before Rob could. Rob couldn’t tell if Hans was in a hurry now because he wanted to get this over with (perhaps worried he’d get caught) or if he was embarrassed about it or if Hans simply never dawdled. He had a feeling it was the latter.
His dick bobbed and weaved. Rob hesitated, smirking until Hans took charge and dropped his cocktip into Rob’s mouth. Rob started jacking then, teasing the tip and sliding his tongue over the shaft and into Hans’s pisshole.
An emotionless grunt escaped from Hans’s mouth. His Schwanz twitched, then began to stiffen up in Rob’s mouth. Rob’s hands roamed up to his chest, underneath his shirt, and he managed to just barely reach the bottom of Hans’s pecs. Hans snarled and looked displeased, but he didn’t make Rob stop feeling him up.
“Stop.” Hans’s voice filled the vestibule.
Rob looked up at him. He pulled off Hans’s cock but left it there resting above his head. He licked the underside of the shaft. Hans showed no pleasure on his face, which made Rob giggle.
“If you wish to do it in anal manner, you must do it now.” Hans motioned for him to turn around. “It is best to do it with you an all four of your hands and feet. Stick your buttocks high in the air.”
Rob scoffed. “I know how to do it-“
“Then do it! Why do Americans dilly-dally so much?”
“Okay, first of all,” Rob said as he bent over. “I was technically born in Toronto. Second of all, how did you learn the word dilly-dally? No one says that-“
“Shut up. All Americans say they are Canadian.”
Rob was bent over now in front of him, and he had to drop to his knees to get himself lined up with Hans’s manhood. He still hadn’t taken off his lederhosen, which were around his ankles, or his traditional shirt, which he just unbuttoned near the bottom to give himself unfettered access to Rob’s ass.
He drilled into Rob’s ass without any fanfare. He didn’t give Rob much of a chance to adjust to it either. He just slammed his Schwanz in and kept pushing, even as Rob writhed and cried out. Intense pressure erupted in Rob’s behind, along with a burst of pleasure, moving in a long low wave up his spine. Rob yelped and clenched his mouth shut, and he writhed beneath Hans’s powerful body.
“You must open your buttocks hole,” Hans grunted. He smacked Rob’s asscheeks. “Relax it. Make it be open. It is not open adequately enough. I struggle to insert my penis.”
“Yeah, I know how, thanks,” Rob said through gritted teeth. “I get it. You’re very clear, Hans.” The pain was substantial. He wasn’t sure if Hans had never done this, or if he’d only done it with very slutty women with loose asses, or maybe only with kinky women who enjoyed their anal sex painful. Or maybe this was just how it went in Germany, Rob thought, and it was expected to be difficult.
Soon, Rob’s ass did adjust, despite Hans pounding away at it. Rob gripped the floor and howled in both pain and pleasure. The pain, however, slowly diminished with each thrust of Hans’s cock inside him. The pleasure grew and grew, until Rob was covered in sweat and moaning, his voice staggering and breaking eahc time Hans’s cock rammed at his prostate.
His prostate sent wave after wave of bliss through his veins. Once he got used to it, Rob enjoyed Hans’s rough, awkward way of cornholing. It was very efficient — he got his dick in right away, and every time he thrust, he brought his cock virtually all the way out, so just the tip remained in Rob’s ass, then he plowed all the way in until his balls slapped against Rob’s body.
Whenever Rob shifted his weight, Hans wordlessly brought him back to the position he was in to begin with. Hans kept Rob perfectly straight in front of his body, centered, so that when Hans penetrated him, he could go in perfectly straight and symmetrically, right down the middle.
“Goddamn…” Rob cried out. He stroked himself off as he got cornholed deep in his ass, and he lowered his head until Hans forced him back into position once more.
“Wait.” Hans stopped with his dick all the way in Rob. He reached for the lederhosen around his waist. His cock was so big that Rob mewled and whimpered, and he squirmed, but Hans stopped him. “I said wait. There is no need to make any noise.”
“I’m sorry, it feels so good. I can’t help it.”
“It is inefficient. Someone may hear you, and you may disturb their sleep,” Hans said.
“It’s just difficult, sorry, sorry-” Rob panted. He couldn’t stay quiet, and the more he tried, the more his panting turned into loud groans and moans, wordless begging for more. Rob couldn’t see Hans’s face, but he sensed the look of disapproval that flitted over it. Rob said, “Sorry, I’m tryin’ — I’m not used to havin’ to be sneaky. When it feels good, I make sounds-“
“Hush. That is not necessary.” Hans pulled a small paper bag out of his pocket. Inside was a styrofoam container — leftovers from lunch. He kept his dick in Rob’s ass as he opened it up. The smell of yet more sausage and the tangy scent of sauerkraut flooded Rob’s senses. Pleasure coursed through his veins, made stronger by the fact that Hans’s cock remained motionless on Rob’s prostate, relentlessly and endlessly triggering the potent sensations that wracked Rob’s body.
“Are you-?”
“Hush. Ich muss jetzt essen,” Hans said. “I will finish when I am ready.”
“Oh, I-“
“Hush.” Inside the container was about a third of a sausage resting on a bed of sauerkraut. He used a clean fork to spear the sausage, then cut a bite off it with a sharp knife he took from a pittle pouch attached to the side of the food container. He took a bite of the sausage. “I saved this from my lunch to eat on my home after work. That would be now, if I weren’t here with you. In order to keep to my schedule, I will eat now.”
“Oh.” That still seemed weird to Rob, but it was hard to think about anything except that massive Teutonic cock in his ass, throbbing and pulsating, occupying all of Rob’s senses. Rob sucked in his breath. Hans took another bite of the sausage.
The smell of sausage and potently funky sauerkraut filled the air. It was enough to cut through the intense sensations rsouroiling Rob’s body. His voice broke and he lowered his body, jutting his ass back um es tiefer auf den Schwanz zu pochen, der in seinem Arsch pocht. Hans grunted but didn’t complain, he just used a plastic fork to eat sauerkraut from the to-go container.
Then he spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning up, all still without moving a muscle, that massive cock still throbbing against Rob’s prostate. Hans put the plastic fork, the container and the napkins he had used back into the to-go bag he had come with. He carefully folded the top of the paper bag, then placed it by the door to grab on the way out.
“Okay, can we finish?” Rob asked. He was getting annoyed. He had paid for this, after all, and Hans had forbidden him from touching his chest or removing his shirt, had strictly decided on the position he would take, right down to the orientation of his head, which didn’t even affect Hans, and now he made Rob wait while he ate leftovers. It hardly seemed fair to pay for that. Wasn’t the customer always right?
But when Rob turned his head to say something, he saw Hans’s broad chest muscles flexing beneath his shirt, ruddiness running up his neck to the pale skin of his cheeks as he resumed cornholing Rob. He put headphones on too, so Rob realized there was no point in complaining, Hans wouldn’t hear. Hans forced Rob’s head to face forward again.
Then he began plowing hard, his orgasm slowly building. He finally moved as he went, lowering himself, first to pin Rob down and in place, then as Hans reached orgasm, he got lower and lower.
Soon that seven-foot tall body landed on Rob, pinning him to the floor. Rob struggled to breathe, but he didn’t complain — he loved it. He finally sensed some passion and real desire in Hans’s body. Hans breathed heavily and grunted.
“Okay, I am going to finish now, cowboy. I am going to shoot my semen into your ass, and you will take every drop. That is the plan, do you understand it?” His voice was still flat and firm, but there was a note of urgency now, like he raced to say this before he finally shot his wad.
“Yes, okay!” Rob cried out the best he could beneath Hans’s chest. Since Hans was so tall, Rob was crushed beneath his chest and flat stomach, so Hans could feel his pecs on the back of his head. Rob’s own face was above the floor, Rob’s entire body squirming beneath Hans’s muscles, which were like a blanket that weighed him down.
He still had those headphones on, and his eyes were closed. Pulsating Technomusik was audible from the headphones, and it pounded like a soundtrack as Hans rutted. Hans grunted, a few drops of spit slipping past his lips and onto Rob’s cheeks.
Then, finally, he was done, and cum filled Rob up. He shot a massive load, thick and milky, which seeped into Rob’s flesh. Its heat overwhelmed him, along with the body heat of Hans’s broad muscles, until Rob could feel it all over himself, like he had been literally covered inside and out.
“Aaaaah.…” Hans moaned directly into Rob’s ear. Then he wrapped one of those powerful corded-muscle arms around Rob’s thin, reedy chest. He lifted Rob up.
The other orgasm running through Rob was so intense he had little awareness of what was happening. He didn’t get why Hans lifted him up, not until Hans’s hand reached around to Rob’s own cock and touched it.
Rob couldn’t speak right now, so he didn’t ask why Hans gave him a reacharound — and he wouldn’t have asked even if he could, because he worried asking would make Hans realize he didn’t need to and therefore stop.
Hans actually just thought this was part of it. He found it distasteful, but it was just a handjob. He kept his limpening dick in Rob’s ass — he just assumed that was what most men did, because it seemed logical and efficient — as he stroked him off.
Since he had just gotten plowed and Hans’s cock still teased his prostate, Rob began orgasming basically the moment Hans started stroking him off. He writhed, impaled on Hans’s dick, wrapped up in his pale stone-like arms.
Finally cum sprayed over Hans’s fingers and onto the floor. Rob cried out, his whole body vibrating in a ferocious frenzy that was only more intense because Rob knew how much he stood out — Hans barely moved at all, no more than necessary, so Rob’s wild motions seemed odd and unsuitable to Hans.
Not that he would ever say that. Hans was intensely aware of the sticky cum dripping from his fingers, but he didn’t let himself get bothered by it. He waited until Rob was done shooting his wad.
Then Hans let go. His dick flopped out, and Rob toppled to the ground, letting out a loud post-orgasmic sigh. Hans stood. He shook his dick between his fingers, then grabbed the remaining napkins from his to-go bag.
He quickly and efficiently wiped up his own hands and cock, then he even wiped up the cum off the floor and off Rob’s ass. He threw the napkins back into the bag that waited by the door to be thrown away. He pulled his lederhosen back up, cursing at the sight of a few drops of cum that had hit the fabric.
“I will have to wash these now. You must pay extra,” Hans said. “Hand over the money now. Five hundred and twenty euros.”
Rob didn’t really think it was reasonable to pay to clean the lederhosen. If it was up to him, after all, he’d have had Hans take his clothes off, and they wouldn’t have gotten cum-stained.
But Hans didn’t look like he would entertain any haggling. That was something Rob had noticed in Germany so far — no haggling, no special deals or sales, just plain posted prices. It was nice, he thought, even if annoying at times.
He handed over the five hundred and twenty euros, then smiled at Hans. “Thanks for that.”
He nodded. “I hope you have a good time in Germany, sir.” Then he added. “It is simply inspiring.” He smiled, which was awkward on his big squarish face. “Simply Inspiring” was the tourism slogan of Germany and was printed back in that Bier Palas in several languages on one of the walls.
But Rob didn’t know that. He just thought Hans was awkwardly describing Germany as “simply inspiring”. He nodded and smiled. “Oh. Yeah. Cool. Germany’s, uh… been nice.”
“Good. Tell the tourism board I am nice to tourists and I do not frighten you even though I am very big, tell them that,” he said. He nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
He turned around and left, grabbing the paper bag to throw away before he was gone. He put his headphones back on too, and before Rob could even say goodbye, Hans was gone, tapping his feet to the sound of techno before he got on a bus going home.
Rob smiled when he finally left the vestibule. He had done what he set out to do in Germany, he thought, and he was ready to move on.
