O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

The Mission 4 (mm military)

by Randy Dragon

Read Chapter 3

While the Rowley brother’s had their way with the three marines, the party at the Pink Cock was in full swing. Lee was hitting on Trent Crusher, the hunky Linebacker.

The black stud was 20 years old. His head was bald shaven. He stood at 6.2 ft  and was a massive 240 lbs. boy hunk. The hard nipples below the centers of his sculpted hanging pecs were clearly visible under the skintight white tank top, which contrasted well to his dark chocolate-brown skin. Around the waistband of his ass-hugging Wranglers, he was wearing a three-row studded belt that was complementing the studded leather bands around his wrists.

“Hey Lee, is it true that Chinese have small yellow dicks?” the sophomore and his friends burst out laughing. Jerry the stocky halfback buried his face into Trent’s naked shoulder, tears of laughter in his eyes were blurring his vision.

“I am from Korea, “ Lee replied with a thin smile,” I think I am fine down there.” He was wondering whether black Americans were so well-endowed as people often told.

“He is fine down there,” Trent roared with laughter again.

“Let’s have another beer.” he grinned down at the smaller Asian and took a sip from his glass.

“You might wish to stay in shape,” Lee said in a low voice that only Trent could hear. The Korean was standing very close to the college hunk and his hand was resting on Trent’s brawny thigh, slightly squeezing it.

“Oh yeah?” Trent asked sobering up a little bit, not sure what this was leading to.

He knew it when Lee’s hands were traveling up across his abs and were softly squeezing his nipples through the cotton fabric. This Asian wanted him. He could use some distraction as his chick was on a Ladies Night Party and had dumped him. Trent looked into Lee’s dark eyes almost sober by now. He downed his beer.

“Well then, let’s go baby,” he said. The young hunk felt already horny and was concerned that Lee might change his mind at the last minute.

“Guys, I take our friend here for a ride,” he said to his friends,” just show him our beautiful town.” He fetched his red-black colored Shoei RF-1000 crash-helmet and hugged Lee around the shoulder. His hooting team-mates were grinning broadly after them.
“Man, this poor chink won’t be able to sit for a week,” Jerry sneered.

“Do you like my ride?” Trent asked. The Kawasaki Vulcan 2000 was Trent’s pride.

“Nice motorbike,” Lee replied.

“Nice?! Just nice!” Trent replied with undisguised indignation.

“Come on, let me show you what fuckin’ hot kind of a machine that nice bike is,” Trent swung his muscular leg over the saddle and pointed behind him. Lee had hardly mounted the bike and put his feet on the pillion driver’s foot rests, when the roaring engine was catapulting the heavy machine into the street.

As they were riding on the 2053 cc cruiser bike, Lee had his arms wrapped around Trent’s narrow waist. His hands were rubbing the chiseled six-pack under the shirt and rested finally warm and heavy on the impressive bulge that had developed in the Linebacker’s groin. His fingers were outlining the massive erection under the thin fabric. Could it be that easy? Lee wondered. He considered the hunky young football player a top and did not understand why the black hunk gave in to his stimulations so willingly. Lee was sure that he would top the stud with ease.

Trent navigated through empty streets. He indulged in the massage the smaller Asian was giving him. He would fuck this little slant-eye raw tonight. His cock was painfully twitching in his tight pants. Trent decided to pay a visit to the Ladies Night.

“What is this?” Lee asked curiously when they stopped in front of a Victorian style redbrick townhouse. There was a lot of girlish laughter and giggling to be heard and the sound of pop music. Some girls dressed in mini skirt and bikini top were having a smoke were sitting on the stairs leading up to the entrance.

“Wait and see,” Trent said.

“Hey Trent, how’s it hangin’?” one of the girls recognized the red-black bike and helmet.

“Nice ‘n low babe,” Trent grinned, ”is Sue around?”

“Yeah somewhere inside, but you may not come in, ‘ya know big stud?” the girl giggled.

“I know, I know, be nice hon’ and ask her to come out, I have to show her something,” Trent asked.

“Why don’t you show me?” the girl pouted, but went inside.

It didn’t take long and Sue came walking down the stairs. The redhead was wearing a string tank top and pink skintight leggings. Trent pulled the Shoei helmet off.

“Hi honey! Do you miss me already!” she cooed.

“Yeah, babe, I miss you,” Trent pulled her into a kiss. While his tongue was exploring her mouth his hand went down to his crotch. He unzipped his jeans and released his 12 inch rock-hard fuck meat. Sue felt her hand guided down on her boyfriend’s thigh and suddenly it was resting on his throbbing baby maker.

“Eeeeeewwwww!” she shrieked. Trent’s laughter almost caused him to fall from the saddle.

“You pervert asshole!” Sue was retreating up the stairs.

“Just wanted to show ‘ya how much I miss ‘ya hon’,” Trent, still laughing put the crash helmet back on his head. He tried to push his dick back inside his pants, however, he was too hard and the jeans were too tight.

“Shit! My fuckin’ stick won’t fit in…”, he cursed. Now, some girls came from the house, throwing plastic bottles and kitchen garbage at him.

“Fuck, I guess we better leave,” Trent started his bike and off they went leaving the shouting chicks behind.

Lee was startled. The athlete was a bi-boy after all. Although it was late at night and not a soul on the street, he couldn’t believe that Trent was driving with a massive erection throbbing openly from his zipper. Lee’s hands were gliding slowly up and down the black shaft making sure his owner remained hard and horny.

Later at Trent’s fraternity , the Linebacker tossed his helmet on a chair and stripped his jeans off. He peeled the tank top from his torso until he was only dressed in a canary-yellow string thong that could hardly contain his still hard monster dick.

Trent fetched himself another can of beer from the fridge and lolled back on his bed.

“What are you waiting for?” the football player looked expectantly at his Asian guest. Lee looked around in the room. Clothes and worn-out sneakers were scattered across the floor. A snowboard and a skateboard were leaning against the wall. There was one wooden pin board with a wide selection of bras.

“My trophies, pal,” Trent grinned.

”First I fuck them then I claim the bra as souvenir. There are 43 already, not bad for a sophomore, huh?”  he chuckled and took a sip form his can.

“Not bad,” Lee repeated but he was staring at a huge black rubber penis that was placed on the bedside table.

“Yeah, that’s my piece. I had it remodeled from a chick I knew from arts class,” Trent chuckled, ”now get ready for the original stuff.” While Lee stripped from his clothes, Trent reached for the drawer. He produced a bottle of poppers and inhaled deeply.

“Oh fuck.” he moaned when the rush hit him. Lee watched the hunky football player slumping down on his back. He climbed onto the bed and lifted Trent’s legs. The lanky Asian wriggled close to the firm buttocks and started to lick the juicy nuts. His hand spread the sexy orbs and exposed the rosy puckered hole.

“Ohhh! Uuuh!” the jock moaned and groaned while Lee’s tongue rimmed his shit chute. Swiftly the smaller Asian had taken the lead and guided the boy hunk on a path of raunchy passion.

“Aaaouuuuu!” the Linebacker howled, when he lost his virgin ass to an Asian cock. The sensation was so intense that he shot a huge load of college hunk spunk, soaking the bed linen.

“Aargh! Fuck! Yesss!” Trent arched his back and writhed in sexual hysteria. He was sweating heavily. Apart from the studded wrist bands, Lee had stripped him buck naked and fucked him senseless on his own bed.

“Harder, man, fuck me harder!” the black stud panted. Lee was riding him doggie-style. He reached for the poppers and held the tiny bottle under Trent’s nose.

“Uuurgh! Shiiiitttt!” The athletic body was churning in red hot smouldering lust and Trent couldn’t get enough.

“F-fuck me, oh man fuck my tight ass!” The football player was completely out of control, caught in the grip of sexual ecstasy as never before in his life. The Asian seemed to be all over him, rimming his ass, licking his balls, his arm pits, sucking on his toes, spanking his hard bubble butt, milking his cock again and again. Trent’s eyes rolled back in their sockets.

Lee chewed the dark-red mushroom head until the bloated boner seemed to jump from the skin that tightened around the black shaft, making Trent scream for mercy.

With a devilish smile Lee gave Trent another dose of poppers. He took the black rubber dick and greased it with the Linebacker’s own man seed. Slowly he pushed it between Trent’s butt cheeks. The dizzy football player raised his ass in reflex and pushed against the big rubber schlong. The well-plowed sphincter opened up and after a few muffled grunts the stud went ballistic when his own manhood was driven deep inside of him. Lee slapped the sexy ass cheeks and the sphincter closed tightly around the rubber shaft.

The Korean fucked the younger American with his own dick in all imaginable positions and he made sure that Trent came every time before he changed position.

In the wee hours of the morning Trent was finally drained. His sore, mangled cock was still impressive, however, it remained flaccid and wobbly. The once dangling nuts had retreated completely into the shrunken nut sack.

The exhausted college hunk was face-down spread eagled in his churned up bed. The room was reeking from sweat and cum. Lee was fully dressed.

“Sleep well, baby,” Lee grinned at the depleted beauty, which was lying snoring with a replica of his own man pole rammed up in his sore ass. He turned to leave. It was already 6:00 AM and he was to meet Dwight an hour later. Then he hesitated and turned back, looking around. After a few moments he had found what he was looking for.

When the door closed, there was a bright yellow string thong pinned in the midst of Trent’s impressive bra collection.

Lee arrived at the base in time neatly dressed in his office attire.

“Good Morning!” he greeted politely. Corporal Dorset was at the phone, trying to contact his Sergeant.

When Dwight didn’t show up at 7:30 AM, Tommy reported to the Major that Sergeant Collins was missing. There were as well reports that Lance Corporal Riley and Private Johnson did not report for duty as well.

Benjamin O’Rourke didn’t hesitate a moment. Dwight was highly reliable and diligent. He knew instantly that something was dead wrong. It took the specialists only minutes to trace Dwight’s mobile and 45 minutes after Corporal Dorset had notified his superior about the Sergeant’s disappearance a team of USMC MPs was swarming through the old warehouse in downtown.

Muffled shouts and dull thuds lead them to the dumpster that was locked from the outside.

At 9:30 AM Dwight, Chuck and Mike were standing at attention in front of Ben’s desk. The three blushed marine’s were wearing fresh clothes and a stoic expression, while Ben was ranting. Lee seemed to sink deeper down in his chair.

“What a disgrace! In a dumpster! You are a shame for the corps!” Ben roared, while he was striding around the three hapless marines.

“Yes Sir!” the three shouted. The major brought his face close, very close to Dwight’s reddened face.

“You fix that, Collins and you do it fast or I swear I rip your balls off,” Ben said in a dangerous, low voice.

“Yes. Sir!” Dwight replied looking desperately at some point in midair somewhere behind Ben.

“Do you understand me, Sergeant?” the Major asked.

“Yes, Sir I understand!” Dwight shouted.

“Did I make myself clear,” the Major shouted.

“Yes-sir, crystal clear!” Dwight shouted back still looking straight ahead.

“Out!” the Major yelled.

The three marine’s saluted and hurried out of the office. Lee nodded quickly and rushed after them.

“Fuck!” Dwight puffed when they were back in his office. Lee entered silently and sat down on a chair. He looked up at the three embarrassed looking marines.

“Uh, why don’t we sit down and discuss the situation calmly, I am sure …” he stopped when he realized the tormented expression in the three faces.

“Was it something, I said?”, he asked cautiously.

The three looked at each other. Finally Dwight cleared his throat.

“No, uhmmm, it’s ok Lee, we …we rather like to stand while we are talking, you know?” Dwight’s face was crimson red.

Lee looked at him and then it hit him.

“Oh, I see …, he aspirated.

The three looked at the small Asian inquiringly, but there was not even a hint of a smile.

“Does anybody have an idea?” Dwight looked around, but nobody replied.

“Well then, let’s call the cavalry,” Dwight sighed. He took the phone and asked Tommy:
“Get me Iraq, Master Sergeant O’Dowerty!”

Almost on the opposite side of the globe the squad was riding on the back of a heavy ‘Bad Boy’ armored truck. Hank O’Dowerty enjoyed the aromatic taste of his Cohiba. They had seized 50 boxes of Cuban cigars during a raid north of Basra.  Now, the squad was on their way back to the harbor city in Southern Iraq. His men where upbeat to staying in an urban environment for a few days at least, after celibate months in a harsh desert environment. The smoke of the cigar was blending into the pungent stench of male sweat, unwashed clothes and cum that was hanging in the thick air of the sealed armored cabin that had been mounted onto the truck in order to provide additional protection.

“I heard they have some pretty ‘lil whores over there,” Corporal Tanker drawled in his Texan accent. The Corporal with his blond crew cut hair was a typical 22-years-old all-american classic corn-fed country boy.

“That will be much hotter then that shit down here.” He pointed with his chin down. Kneeling between Hank’s thighs was the leader of the insurgent group which they had taken out in the North after a fierce battle.

The Arab was about 27 years-old. Rashad had his black curly hair buzz cut and was unusually powerful built compared to the average Iraqis. Standing 5.9 ft. tall he weighed 210 lbs. His hard body was almost 100% sculpted muscle. He had fought even after the squad had taken the entire stronghold. Rashad had been trained in martial arts. Fresh bruises on Hank’s face as well as a cracked rib reminded him that this guy was a bundle of muscle and fanatic fury. In order to ‘chill’ the rug-head down until his interrogation, he had been stripped naked. His wrists were cuffed with plastic strings behind his back. The olive skin was covered in dust and sweat. The bruised face was buried in Hank’s lap.

The Master Sergeant knew how to humiliate the Arabs. He had his ways to get amazingly fast confessions and even the most fanatic captive, left broken and as docile as a lamb Hank’s interrogation sessions. There had been once a UN investigation and the attractive middle-aged woman with her stern look, wearing old-fashioned glasses, who was leading the delegation had asked the Master Sergeant a number of tough questions with regards to compliance with Human Rights of the prisoners. Hank had just shrugged it off. His job, he said, was to fight a war and to keep his men alive and that this was far from being a summer camp for some white-collar boy scouts. He had turned around and disappeared into his tent. The enraged delegation head didn’t take that for an answer and rushed after him.

There had been a short, heated debate that could clearly be heard from outside the tent. Then there were a few giggles and grunts and then silence. Finally, some concerned delegates wanted to look what was happening, but were stopped in front of the tent by two martially looking marines. Almost after one hour the delegation head left the tent with a flushed expression. Her hair was tousled and the blouse was hanging from her skirt. She was polishing her glasses and went to the Toyota Landcruiser that had delivered them to the squad’s desert camp. Hank appeared in the entrance of the tent, bare-chested and smoking a cigar.

“Have a safe trip home,” he waved after the departing four-wheel drive. His men were grinning.

Rashad knew who was using him like a cheap whore. "Al-Dowary" was feared among the insurgents. The commando leader was aware, that he was in the hands of a formidable foe. Four hours he was already sucking on the Americans’ dicks. The six marines had an impressive stamina and after being away from any brothel for quite a time they had plenty resources. Five marines had already dumped their cum down Rashad’s throat and they were still hard, ready for more; only the leader of the squad seemed to be quite unimpressed.

Hank’s 11 inch dick remained half-hard and Hank was determined not to cross over to a climax which could have distracted him from watching the rebel who had been so difficult to capture. His instinct told him that this man was dangerous. So he just contented himself with burying his dick in the Rashad’s moist and warm mouth. From time to time he would push the shaven head in front of him deeper into his crotch, making the Arab hunk gag and cough.

It was already close to midnight when the convoy arrived at Basra. Hank and Tanker left at the hospital because Hank wanted his rib to be attended to. He held the naked Rashad at gun point.

“Do anything funny and I swear I will shoot your fuckin’ balls off”, he threatened.

At this late hour there was only one nurse at the ambulance ward.

“Hey pretty lady, “ Tanker grinned. The woman in her early thirties was looking interested at the strapping young hunk with the boyish face. She led the men into the emergency ward. There was an examination desk, overhead lamps, anesthetic machine, surgical instruments and a selection of bandages. Outside in the hallway a phone was ringing.

“Excuse me ,” the nurse left to fetch the call.

“That is a hot chick and I bet she needs it,” Tanker grinned lasciviously,” all alone so late at night.

“There is a call from the states, Sarge,” the nurse was back, holding a satellite phone.

“Fuck! How did they find me here?” Hank cursed. He was tired and he needed a shower.

“They called already a couple of times,” the nurse explained.

“Hello?” Hank asked into the receiver.

The nurse cut Rashad’s wrists free and told him to lie down on the examination desk.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hank glared at the nurse.

“B-but …” she stammered.

“I am the patient, not him,” Hank grunted angrily. He pointed with the gun to Rashad and made him sit on a chair, where he had the Arab in his view while sitting on the desk. He handed the gun to Tanker and took his sweaty camo T-shirt off.

“I need a bandage, here and here,” he barked at the nurse.

“Hello, sorry I had to … who is that? Dwight?! Hi buddy how’s it hangin’?” Hank heard Dwight’s voice far away and garbled.

Dwight told him about the mishap and Hank cursed.

“Damn you! I told you not to mess with the Rowleys on your own”, he scolded while the nurse applied a bandage, carefully watched by Rashad and Tanker. The Corporal looked over the nurse’s shoulder, almost breathing into her blond hair. Her female scent triggered an immediate reaction. Rashad watched the camo pants tenting. He as well got aroused and tried to cover his erection by cupping his hands.

“You know there might be some chance for you, but you need assistance,” Hank said.

“Whatever it is, I am in shit up to my neck already,” Dwight replied.

“You remember Taylor Henderson?” Hank asked.

“Taylor Hen… You mean that brat who almost fucked the whole base?” Dwight asked surprised.

He fucked his brother and topped me, Hank thought. The memories of what had been done to him in the hands of the teen gang resurfaced. He remembered how stupidly he had been caught with his dick embedded in a phantom mare. That brat had played him well. He grinned, when he remembered how he had gotten even with Taylor. All these thoughts did more than hours of sucking by Rashad. Hank was throwing raging boner and that didn’t go unnoticed by the nurse, who slightly blushed.

“Taylor, he should now be about 22 years. Contact him and ask him for one of his mean tricks. He took me down once, so he might know the right trick for the Rowleys as well,” Hank said. Absentminded he rubbed his crotch.

“Anyway, I can handle it now. I cracked a rib, so I guess they send me back early,” Hank said. They exchanged the latest news and finally Dwight hung up.

Tanker had embraced the nurse from behind and squeezed her boobs. The woman moaned softly.

“Oh my god, ya’ need it badly as well,” Hank laughed.

Tanker grinned sheepishly.

‘Gimme the gun and do you business,” Hank grinned back.

Tanker and the nurse left. Her blouse was already open before the door closed. Hank turned to Rashad and pointed with his gun at the naked Arab.

“And you get your ass over here,” he unbuttoned his pants and reclined on the table.

“Ya’ know what to do, bitch,” Hank pushed the camos down to his thighs and produced his rock hard man tool.

Rashad realized immediately that the situation had changed. The big American was visibly aroused. Whether it was the phone call or his fuck buddy’s hitting at the nurse; Rashad did not care. This could be his chance to escape.

Rashad fucked both women and men and he was good at that. He was not really shocked or stunned by the fact that he had been forced to service the marine squad. Without hesitation he swallowed the 11 inch marine cock in full.

Tanker followed the nurse into her office a few yards down the hallway. There was a bunk bed. The Corporal was down to his army boxers in no time, yet he was up for a surprise, when he turned around the nurse was smiling at him in all her naked glory.

The young marine was pushed down on the bunk bed and stripped bare before he knew it.

“Oh yeah …” he moaned, when his young hard cock was perfectly sucked. Tanker was about to experience what it meant to be in the hands of an expert older woman. He closed his eyes and arched his back when she brought him to the brink of an orgasm and held him there, before letting him chill down. Her sharp finger nail was scratching at his sphincter, making him shudder.

In the emergency ward, Hank had stripped off all his dirty clothes. His dog tags were rattling. He could smell his rank body odor, but he couldn’t care less. He was not with a lover, but with an enemy. He could see the Arab’s hate in his loathing eyes and knew that this man was far from broken. He forced the naked Iraqi to bend over the examination table.

“What do you want now, Amariki?” Rashad asked in his heavy Middle-Eastern accent.

“Shut up, you piece of shit!” Hank shouted and aimed his boner between the spread buttocks.

“Aaaaahhhhhh …” The Arab howled when Hank rammed his massive erection between the firm cheeks of the muscle butt right into the tight ass hole. The marine felt his hard rod overwhelming the Arabs rear defenses. The meaty shaft plunged deep into the tight warm channel. Hank knew that this utter humiliation would smash the insurgent leader’s male ego to pieces. He had fucked numerous of these Arab macho hunks into oblivion before. Arrogance and pride were easily crashed by his marine ram rod. Soon he would see this tough guy sobbing and begging for mercy.

“Yeah, that is what you need, bitch, this is what you all need, bloody bastards,” Hank hissed through clenched teeth. He was speeding up his humping rhythm.

Rashad was breathing heavily. He was trying to accommodate the huge man meat that was working inside his guts.

“Uh ..ohh …uhhh”, Rashad uttered a few meek moans faking submission The big stud was to believe that he was getting into it.

“Yeah, motherfucker, you are going down,” Hank growled. His hips were slamming against Rashad’s buttocks.

“Uuuuhhh… “ Rashad squirmed.

“There and there and there,” Hank was fucking the Arab now with accentuated thrusts.

“No! Fuuck you! Amariki, fuuck you,” Rashad hollered.

“Oh yesss! I make you scream like a dirty alley whore!” Hank sneered.

“Uuuuuurrrgh…” Rashad yowled.

Hank pulled his dick from Rashad’s ass. The rebel leader expected the American to cum on his back. To his surprise he found himself flipped around on his back.

“You can’t trick me, rug-head! Not me!” Hank sneered while he mounted the table. He raised Rashad’s legs on his shoulders and guided his man tool again inside the quivering sphincter. Rashad’s eyes bulged.

“AAaaahhh!” he howled in agony. The American was big. Suddenly Rashad had doubts whether he could escape from this super-hunk.

Hank grinned, he recognized the look in Rashad’s face and went for the kill.

“You are a whore, aren’t ‘ya?” Hank was bitch-slapping Rashad’s face.

“Ooww … nnooo,” Rashad had tears in eyes.

“Tell me ‘ya are my fuckin’ bitch!” Hank shouted and slapped the Arab again.

Rashad was huffing and puffing. He had to admit the American leader was a hot fucker. Hank was pushing him down with the whole weight of his body. Both men were covered in sweat. Hank plunged his entire man tool inside the convulsing Iraqi and moved his hips in circular motions.

“Ohhhh …,” Rashad yelped, when Hank hit his prostrate.

“Come on bitch, say it!” Hank demanded. Now he slapped Rashad’s ass cheeks.

“Aaawww. I …I,” Rashad gasped.

“What?” Hank’s face was now right in front of Rashad’s.

“I am your whore, ok you win Amariki, I’m your bitch,” Rashad howled.

“Damn’ right! Yes you are!” Hank sneered and spat into Rashad’s face.

“Oh yeah man fuck me!” Rashad looked up at him. Lecherous he tried to gather some of Hank’s saliva with his tongue. The Iraqi was slowly losing his composure. The hot fuck was getting to him, melting his defenses. The Arab realized that this American could reduce him indeed to a fucking whore. Desperately Rashad tried to focus on his home his family, but the ongoing hits at his prostrate triggered increasingly his instincts.

“Fuck me! Fuck me hard!” Rashad egged the humping marine on and he was not faking any longer.

“Oh yeah, bitch, I give it to you!” Hank was now power-fucking. His balls were aching for relief and attached themselves to the base of his rock-hard cock. His entire crotch seemed to contract and his abs went rigid.

Without interrupting his slamming, Hank fixed his chin on Rashad’s shoulder and moved his knees closer to the Arab’s pumped ass in order to get a better hold. The he bent down and trapped Rashad’s sweaty torso in an iron embrace. Only his hips were now undulating, rapidly and hard. The marine’s back and his ass were glistening with a thick coat of sweat.

Rashad’s face turned to the side. Gathering what was left of his dwindling resistance he reached forthe anesthetic machine.

“Uuh, fuck!” Hank was getting close now. The cum was churning in his bloated testicles. Now there was no turning back. He needed to get off and to pump his seed into the helpless groaning insurgent leader was a major turn-on.

Rashad unhooked the mask from the machine and pulled it towards him, however, the breathing hose was too short and the apparatus to far away from the desk. Rashad clenched his teeth and pulled again. If the hose came off, or if the machine toppled, he would be doomed. The black hose stretched to its maximum. Slowly the trolley on which the apparatus had been mounted began to move. Praise to Allah, Rashad thought relieved.

The Arab listened to the gasping of the marine. When the moaning changed into a guttural grunt and the bucking rhythm turned slightly erratic, although the American was still humping him with full force, Rashad concentrated on his sphincter. His left hand traveled slowly down until he was able to reach one of the hunk’s flexing butt cheeks.

Hank oblivious to his surroundings gave in to his primal needs. His eyes closed as his face contorted.

“Uuurgghh!” A deep guttural groan signaled that his balls had started to pump his semen. Suddenly the already tight ass clenched even firmer around his throbbing rod and simultaneously he felt fingernails digging into his butt. His climax was triggered. The tattooed back arched as the big marine jerked up and a first spurt of his cum gushed into the Arab’s ass.

“Uuuh! Yeah!” he hollered. There was again this unique sentiment of absolute power over another man, the act of taking possession of a former independent being. Confirming the position of being the undisputed leader of the pack. Irritated he registered that his head was seized.

Through his blurred vision Hank realized that the Rashad was holding a kind of combination of a tube and a mask in his hand. Too slow did his lust flooded mind register, what the Iraqi was doing.

“What the fu …,” The Arab was fast and Hank with his body jolting from his cum shots had no chance to defend himself. The mask was slipped over his head and secured by both a padded face plate and a non-elastic neck strap. A tube from the mouth piece slid down his throat and made him cough. He wanted to spit it out, but was efficiently prevented by a bite block, that forced his strong jaws apart.

In reflex he inhaled deeply and a sensor kicked the apparatus into operating mode. Valves opened with a hissing noise. Nitrous oxide and oxygen from high-pressure cylinders were pumped into a vaporization chamber and ventilated into the breathing hose. A hospital like smell invaded Hank’s mouth and nostrils. He had a feeling as if his lungs would explode from the gas mixture that the apparatus was now pumping inside of him.

“You like the blow-job?” Rashad laughed.

“Nnnnggghhhhh…aauuurrggh,” the big marine choked and gurgled.

The American’s hands were shooting up, grappling to his face in a desperate attempt to rip the mask off, but Rashad caught both wrists and forced the struggling arms down. He wrapped his muscular legs around the marine’s hips and buried his heels into the buttocks, preventing the writhing stud from pulling his cum-spurting dick out of his ass.

“Fuck me, Amariki, fuck me hard!” Rashad gloated.

“Auurghhhhuuu!” the mockery drove the marine into a state of raging fury. Hank’s arm muscles bulged and his pecs were pumped, while he wrestled with the Arab, but the ongoing ejaculations were sapping his strength away. He held his breath and pressed instead air from his lungs against the incoming flush of gas.

The nitrous oxide and oxygen flow control reacted promptly and increased the flow of nitro-oxide. In rising panic he tried to wriggle from Rashad’s grip, but the excruciating pain from the cracked rib stunned him. He gasped in pain and the anesthetic gas flooded his lungs.

“Mmpff..urgh,” coughing and retching Hank threw his head right and left, back and forth, but the mask did not come off. Frantically the marine was digging his toes into the leather-covered surface of the examination desk and tried to push his body up. He only wanted to get away from the Arab, who was sucking his man juice from his swollen, over-stimulated dick. His thighs were trembling from the effort. Slowly his twitching dick moved halfway out of the ass.

“Give it to me fucker!” Rashad slammed his heels into Hank’s buttocks and the marine’s feet lost their hold on the sweat slippery surface of the desk. His brawny legs slid on both sides from the desk, spreading his thighs wide open. Driven by the weight of his 200lbs. body Hank sank the entire length of his shaft again into the tight embrace of the milking sphincter.

“Aaaoourghh,” Hank’s howl of fury and despair was stifled by the mask, however, the nurse heard it.

“What was that?” she asked interrupting her ride.

“Ahh … shit .. don’t stop, it’s ‘da Sarge having his way with the bloody rug-head,” Tanker gasped, ”come on baby, ride me, ride my dick!” He bucked his hips nad the nurse continued her pounding fuck ride.

Hank’s hunky body went from contraction into spasms. His head was swaying in disorientation.

“Is that all you’ve got, Amariki?” Rashad sneered. He knew that he had the American trapped. Helpless impaling himself, he would finally go down simultaneously drained and drugged.

The anesthesia started to kick in. The room seemed to turn upside down. Heavy heartbeat was pounding in Hank’s ears.

“MMmmrrrrghh …. Ghh,” the marine’s entire body was shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He couldn’t stop cumming and at the same time felt so much at ease.

“Yeah, you are a good breeding bull, Amariki,” Rashad laughed while his guts were collecting his enemy’s man seed. He knew that he was sucking the energy from his foe. The powerful arms were already weakening. The muscles were slacking and the heavy body slumped.

Rashad released the wrists and stopped Hank from collapsing on top of him by supporting his sculpted chest. He wanted to savor every moment of his enemy’s downfall. His thumbs and fingers started to play with the fleshy nipples, inflicting more sexual torment on the moaning stud.

Hank leaned powerless against Rashad’s strong hands. The Arab watched the red face behind the mask and the look of disbelief and horror in the eyes of the big American.

“Who is the whore now, Amariki?” Rashad twisted Hank’s nipples and made him moan.

“Uuuhhmmmphh,” Hank’s eyes rolled backwards. His dick randomly spurting cum held him weak. Rashad’s sphincter milked the desperate writhing American for all he was worth. Cum spilled between the thrusting shaft and the brim of the puckered hole and dripping down on his brown nuts.

“Hhuuuuh…huhhhh,” Hank felt the control over his body slipping away. He sobbed in desperate fury. The rug-head had him.

Rashad let the limp body sink down on his chest. Tenderly he was petting the head that was resting calmly on his shoulder; just like he was petting his baby son. The marine went silent. The only noise that could be heard was the hissing sound of the apparatus.

Read Chapter 5

So whaddya think? Type in the code
Reset code