Free Slaves of the Swastika by Kenneth Harding Page B

Army because of his poor vision and excitable heart, happened to look sturdy and robust. And in October, 1944, the sight of a perfectly healthy young male walking the streets of Berlin and not in uniform was subject to immediate questioning by the SS guards as well as by the many Gestapo plainclothes men who were forever roaming the streets.
    Trudy Heinzelman was clinging to his arm and chatting away volubly as they walked down the steps of the old two-story house on Blumen Strassge and made a turn to the North. Trudy was almost as tall as her sweetheart, and there was a perverse mannishness to both her figure and her hair style, which Max particularly enjoyed. Because of his tachycardia, he had often found it most relaxing to lie on his back in bed while his charming brunette girl friend mounted atop him, inserted his stiff prick into her dainty quim and sat down to impale herself and then did all the work. In fact, Trudy herself recommended this so that it wouldn't be too great a strain on his heart, for she was an exceptionally passionate girl. However, unlike Kathy, she was very sentimental and solicitous about people, and this was to cost her a terrible ordeal in the hands of the dread wearers of the swastika.
    They walked on slowly, not wanting to attract any attention, and Trudy held him very close by the arm and looked up at him with a roguish wink, murmuring, “You know, Max, I've got a pretty good idea why Kathy wanted the Professor all to herself just now. She wants to screw him.”
    “You think so, Trudy Liebchen,” he chuckled, with a warm responsive hug. “Well, you can't blame the poor girl, she did loose her guy, you know. A sniper got him in France. He could have really given her what she needed, so I guess it is natural for her to want an older man who knows just how to take care of a woman the way the Professor truly must.”
    “Well, don't you worry any, Max,” Trudy teased him, “I'm not the least bit jealous of Kathy. You want to know what I want you to do now? Take me to your flat and love me up good. You know, just the thought of poor Professor Nordheim's wife Helga being taken by the Gestapo got me all quivery inside. I know it's dreadful, I know how those beasts hurt women. Just the same, I happen to see in my mind's eye Helga all naked and maybe tied up by the wrist and maybe standing on tiptoe with all the Nazi brutes around her pinching her and poking her and hitting her with whips and making her talk. And then I see myself in her place, and you there doing it to me and I get all squirmy and melting inside, and then lieber Max, I need it from you right now. Let's hurry home, please!”
    Max Dornburg gave his betrothed a passionate look and nodded, flushing like a schoolboy. The two of them had been sweethearts for nearly a year now, and after he had been rejected by the Army, the brunette had generously made him the gift of her own virginity while at the same time removing the burden of his. He had been afraid of women then, but he had felt so depressed and so inferior by the Army turndown that Trudy had wanted to mother him and make him feel like a man. So she reasoned that the best way to do that was to let him fuck her. And ever since then she had clung to him faithfully, though she had certainly had many propositions from other far more handsome and healthier male specimens, particularly overbearing soldiers just back from the front on leave who had promised they would make her insides churn if she'd only let them fuck her just once.
    Suddenly the sound of a whistle broke the stillness of the street. Trudy's eyes widened and then she muttered in a low voice to Max, “Ach, Gott, it must be the police! Don't run, now, just let's go on as we have been, talking like this. That way they won't be suspicious.”
    “Sure, Trudy honey,” Max said in a trembling voice. His heart was beginning to pound wildly again, as it always did when he was nervous or upset. He was scared stiff, and he