Ficly

A Real Concert

The crowd went wild.
They threw their hands into the air, praising him.
He loved every second of it.
He left the microphone, leaving them wanting more.
He walked around on the stage, listening to them cheer his name.
It was orgasmic.
He stood there for a minute, leaving them in anticipation.
Was it the end of his performance?
Was he going to leave?
He walked up to the microphone, the people with their arm bands, their army uniforms, their blonde hair, blue eyes.
He threw his hand into the air, palm side down.
“Tod den Juden! Heil Hitler!” he screamed into the microphone.
The crowd went wild.

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