textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/pow.txt

                       PRISONER OF WAR
     [AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This story MUST be explained, as it is
based on an rather old fantasy of mine.  When I was thirteen
and first experiencing the raging hormones of puberty, it was
the height of the Cold War.  At that time, a veteran of some
sort came to our school and told about the day the Russians
would invade.  He delighted in concocting explicit horror
stories about what the Russian commies would do to us once
they had us in their clutches.  I was a pretty boy back then,
not at all chubby like now, and he singled me out for a
special sort of punishment.  Once you realize this, and
remember my fondness for uniforms, you can easily see how this
old fantasy of mine came about, until it finally congealed
into the story form I give you here.  Let me just add that I
do NOT hate my family, despite their treatment in this
fantasy.  It is just that they have no place in the land of
dreams such as this.]
                          * * * * *
     Two months into the war, I arrived home to find my family
had vanished, and Russian soldiers had taken over the house.
I had no choice; I walked up and surrendered, expecting to be
sent where my family was.  But I wasn't; and I couldn't find
anyone who knew.  I never saw them again.
     My father had built the house for a large family, which
is what we had been up to that point.  A V-shaped, four-
bedroom, single-story ranch house covered a great deal of
ground, with a huge living room and kitchen.  And it held the
enemy.
     Four of them and they remained, for what reason I never
learned.  All were privates.  Perhaps they were due for R&R,
or had been overlooked and decided to sit out the war.  All
I know is that I was their personal servant.
     I soon learned to tell them apart, though I never did
learn the Cyrillic alphabet enough to learn their last names
off their nameplates.
     The big one was Ivan, over six feet tall (my own height),
with big, bulging arms in the T-shirt that was often all he
wore above the waist.  Ivan had brown hair and eyes, and a
face that was attractive despite the slightly rounded cheeks
and the perpetual blue-black mark of his beard that no shaving
would remove.
     Yuri was smaller and very slim, 5'6" and maybe 110
pounds.  His hair was dull black and his eyes, too, seemed to
be orbs of jet in his white-skinned face.  Yuri was the
intellectual one, who seemed to be able to read our language
easily for the books of ours he pored over.  But his mastery
of our speech was slow and stumbling.
     Mikhail was nicely built, though not nearly as big as
Ivan, at 5'11" with a clearly defined chest and very thin
waist.  My father was a small man with a 28" inch waist, and
Mikhail fit into the pants he had left behind with no need for
a belt.  But if he tried on the shirts of my father, it was
impossible to button them.  Mikhail wore my brother's shirts,
and mine.
     Alexei was the dark one of the group, and I don't mean
his skin.  There was an anger about him, an eternal scowl that
creased his otherwise-handsome face, giving him a sinister
look fully as awful as any enemy should bear.  His frame was
medium, his hair a tepid brown, his eyes a neutral grayish
color.  I hated the times that Alexei and I were alone in the
house, because then he would find an excuse to kick me in the
rear, sending me sprawling, or take his belt to my back.  The
others seemed as uncomfortable with Alexei as I was, though,
so I seemed to be alone with him daily.
     Other than these times, though, the soldiers treated me
quite well.  I ate as well as they did, and could use the
living room couch for my bed.
     Things went as well as could be expected, until the day
came that the soldiers found my father's still.  A secret
place that even I hadn't known, hidden in a false back wall
of the empty barn.  Also there were five gallons or more of
wildcat whiskey.  Wildcat is like moonshine, only stronger and
more potent.  To the soldiers used to their vodka, it was a
godsend.
     The small shots of wildcat whiskey they had with dinner
that helped their spirit.  They were jolly, but not truly
drunk.
     "More cake!" Alexei shouted and I hastened over with a
slice for him. In setting it down, his arm came up
(deliberately, I think), and I spilled his glass of whiskey.
     "Damn you!" Alexei shouted and grabbed at me.  To my
embarrassment, Alexei pulled me over his lap and proceeded to
spank me like a naughty child.  He used his hand, but he hit
hard!  I yelled and struggled.  For once, the others didn't
come to my aid.  They laughed and egged him on.
     Only Alexei's fatigue stopped his punishment, and I stood
up, tears of rage streaming from my face.  I called him every
name I could think of and ran to the living room and threw
myself on the couch, not caring what they thought, intending
to cry as much as I cared to.
     But the laughing soldiers followed me, and Ivan insisted
on "seeing it" as he put it.  Yuri and Mikhail held my arms
while Ivan tugged down the ragged trousers that were now all
I owned.
     "Poor thing." Ivan crooned and ran his big hand gently
over my reddened buttocks.  I struggled, wanting only to get
them to stop, to pull up my pants.  But I was helpless.
     Ivan's hand became more insistent, and roamed over me
with sure, gentle strokes.  I was eighteen, full of hormones,
and couldn't help it.  I got an erection.
     They pointed and laughed at the results, calling Ivan
around to see what he had done, I guess.  My cock shriveled
under the unfriendly stares, but Ivan grabbed it and jerked
it, bringing it back to rigid tumesence.
     And now, with no speech I could detect, they chose that
time to attack me.  My clothes were yanked from me while I lay
prone beneath them, clawing, scratching, biting as I could,
minor, unimportant injuries to these horny animals.  Finished,
with me naked underneath them, there was an unzipping of
pants, and I felt the first, hard Russian cock push into me.
     Through my pain and humiliation, I could not see my
attacker.  Not Alexei, who stood off to the side, watching
with disapproval the actions of his comrades, nor Mikhail,
whose hand I recognized on my left, nor Yuri, his small arm,
coated with black hair, on my right.  Oh God, Ivan, the
kindest of them, the gentle giant, it was Ivan who was ramming
his steel cock into me!  I felt more than humiliated.  I felt
betrayed!  I even stopped struggling.  What was the use?  Let
them use me; I would get my revenge later!
     Ivan lay atop of me, his heavy weight mashing me beneath
him, his uniformed arms grabbing my shoulders, forcing all of
his iron manhood into me.  I grunted, bore it, and it was soon
over.
     But not for the others.  Alexei grinned and came over.
I saw his stiff dick, short but thick, as he passed by me,
waggling outside of its gray uniform pants, and I never felt
the others move from their grip on me though I no longer
struggled.  Mikhail got next turn on me.
     After Ivan's huge cock's invasion, Mikhail's was almost
bearable, and it didn't hurt as much.  I found my body
beginning to adjust to them, to love the cock that pushed
inside me.  Yuri was holding both my hands, and his crotch
rubbed in my face.  I don't know where I got the brazenness,
perhaps realizing that I might as well cooperate.  But I
gnawed at his basket, soaking the gray pants with my saliva.
Yuri released my hands and I wrapped them around his waist,
pulled him to me, biting at his groin while Mikhail fucked me.
     Yuri unbuttoned his pants with fumbling, eager fingers,
and his cock sprang from his boxers, and I swallowed it down
in one smooth stroke.  Yuri groaned, and Mikhail laughed at
his eagerness, and his laughter turned to groans, and Mikhail
unloaded into me.  Yuri got up despite my vaccuuming mouth and
his spit-lubed cock was a smoothly-entering blessing.  Ivan
walked over, a wet cloth sponging clean his cock and he knelt
down to me with a cock slowly rising again.
     But I pushed him away petulantly.  Mikhail and Yuri
laughed at his discomfiture, and Ivan seemed to understand his
disgrace.  He moved around and, to my utter astonishment, I
felt him slide underneath my heavy belly and felt his warm
lips encircle my cock.
     Yuri shouted something in Russian, and his cock exploded
into me.  As he finished, Ivan squirmed around to lie between
my arms, his cock aiming at my mouth.  His mouth was so warm
on my cock, so friendly, and my response was so forgiving,
that I first licked, then gobbled down his cock.
     Ivan and I sixty-nined while my body forgot its pain in
the pleasure I now felt.  Alexei was gone some place, I don't
know where, and didn't care.  And Mikhail and Yuri, they were
imitating us, lapping at each other's cocks in this orgy of
Russian passion.
     I moaned, warning Ivan that I was about to come, and his
lips tightened on my cock, so I blasted into him, my tender
young teenaged American cock filling his Russian mouth.  I
heard Ivan gag, but he didn't let go, swallowing my come down,
and it seemed to be what he needed, he fired a second load
into my hungry mouth.
     Finished, we rose, and Ivan hugged me to him, his mouth
seeking mine, and I tasted my come on his lips.  We kissed,
then he led me to his bedroom, once mine, and now ours
together.
     Alexei had gone and we didn't know where.  I never saw
or heard of him again.  Mikhail and Yuri had found each other,
and I had Ivan, my Russian bear, in my arms and my bed.  Ivan
was an eager pupil, and I spent the next week gradually
spreading his ass so I could pump him full of my cock.  We
exchanged fucks, until there was no knowing from our mingled
bodies who was the soldier and who the prisoner of war here.
     Came the day I knew would come, our armies pushing back
the invaders, and soon American flags decorated the armies
advancing through the road in front of our house.
     Ivan and I had talked of this with our combined
languages, and decided what to do.  When the American armies
entered our house, we were in bed, his uniform burned in the
fireplace, and Ivan was lying under me, my cock imbedded in
him, fucking him for all he was worth.  Ivan was begging me
in carefully coached English to "Fuck me harder, man, fuck me
harder!", his muscular arms holding me tight so the soldiers
wouldn't get a good look at him.  And so we kept Ivan from
being marched off as a prisoner of war himself.  The soldiers
just sort of goggled, then left us alone, marching on through
the rain after their foes.
     Ivan was a farmer before his army got him.  He calls
himself "John" now, and we are raising crops again, while I
wait for my family to find us, if they're still alive.  For
now, the ranch belongs to me and my Russian bear.  We spend
our nights in each other's arms, me fucking him then him
fucking me, both of us fucking for all we're worth, for we
don't know how long it will last.  I hope it's forever.
                           THE END