Singled Out and Forgotten by God

You’re keeping in step, and alive
Got your chin held high
And you feel just fine
Because you do what you’re told
But inside your heart—it is black as a hole and it’s cold

Hitler sat with his shabby overcoat spread across his lap. August Kubizek glanced over at his dear friend’s face as the music swelled. Consumed with an overwhelming urge, a realized mutual need to share emotions, he reached beneath the material, laying a hand on Hitler’s waist. Hitler did not shy away, but laid a trembling finger on August’s wrist.

The digits fumbled with the buckle, pulling back the plastic belt. The zipper was soon opened and August felt at once the hardness twisting against his palm. Hitler kept his strict gaze on the opera, but gripped the arm of his seat with great energy.

The firm shaft leapt to his hand without difficulty, and August’s finger swirled lightly over the swollen head of Hitler’s penis. All the while, the man never moved his eyes from the opera. As his friend’s hand rose, and slid down the music gained a frenetic pace and during the orgasmic final notes, as Hitler felt himself give way to release, he roared “By the Living God, yes! And yes again!”

No one took notice. Even those who sat in close proximity. Frequenting the theater monthly, young Adolf was known to verbalize his approval of “The Master”, Richard Wagner.

They walked home in silence enjoying the crisp air swirling about the bustling streets of Schwabing. Climbing the scores of steps to their shared room, Hitler remained a few behind, watching August move in advance. They came to the door.

“Gustl…” Hitler placed a white and delicate hand on his comrade’s shoulder, fingers engrossing the fabric. As he turned around to face his companion, August smiled, noting the worship within the other’s eyes.

“I know Adi. This will never be spoken of.” And they disappeared into the room.

Together.