0 comments/ 79820 views/ 37 favorites Desert Lover Takes Me--And My Wife By: Coxswain Special Forces Captain learns love in prison; so does wife They say it just take one fuck-up to ruin a perfect score, and I kept hearing that in the back of my mind as I ran over the sand dunes, damning myself for getting separated from my team! Bullets hitting around me, spitting up little yellow geysers of sand, and behind me the chunk-a sound of AK-47s let me know I was in deep shit. I ran toward a dune, struggled up the side, cursing the soft sand--like running in molasses--but gasping in relief as I dropped over the top, away from the attacking terrorists. I was part of a secret special ops mission in northern Africa, hitting an Al Qaeda camp, but something had gone wrong. I hurried down the dune. Around a corner, though, I found myself staring straight into the barrels of six AK-47s and the men forming the other pincer of the trap. "Arrêt! Redditez-vous! Tombez-vous votre arme!!" Speaking French? Algerians? Fuck, did we cross the border somewhere? I stopped, dropped my M-16, and raised my arms. I knew what would come next, and it did. They, of course, beat the shit out of me, and took me back to their camp. After a couple of days of more beatings, they sent me to a "detention camp" of the Djihad du Feu Saint, the Jihad of the Holy Fire. That put a heavy rock in the pit of my stomach: my buddies in the SF team would not know where to look for me, and I knew they would come looking. How could they find me in that nowhere? After a three-hour ride in the back of a truck, I arrived at two small wooden buildings in the middle of a flat area in the sand dunes. Winds had blown the sand against the buildings as if slowly swallowing them up. In distant spots around the flat area, men crouched under piles of junk, pieces of cardboard, and a piece of corrugated tin. And all around us was the desert. Not a tree, not a bush, nothing but rolling sand. They threw me down from the truck. "Vous voyez que nous n'a pas de barrière?" Yeah, no fences. "Le désert est votre prison. Si vous partez ce lieu, vous mourez. Vous devriez nous remercier--nous vous gardons vivant." Yeah, right. The desert is our prison. Anybody who wanders away will die. I didn't like the part, though, about how we should be grateful that they are keeping us alive. After that "introduction to the camp," the guards pushed me into the largest of the wooden buildings. No furniture in the room. Smears of blood on the walls. Oh,shit. They beat me unconscious and threw me out of the building into the hot sand. The next thing I knew, I woke up as somebody trickled a little water over my lips. I opened my eyes and struggled to sit up. I was in the shade, in a rickety lean-to made of a section of corrugated tin about 10 feet square, one side held up about three feet off the ground by sticks steadied in piles of rocks. Sand dunes had flowed around it and into it. I lay on a torn piece of canvas maybe six feet square. A man lay beside me, holding a canteen to my lips. His face was brutal. Fierce. Dangerous. Thick black eyebrows over eyes so dark brown they looked black, and they burned into me like laser beams. Tousled black hair. A bushy black beard. Brown skin, big nose. I figured him for an Arab, and at first I was alarmed, but hell, he was holding a canteen of water to my lips, so he couldn't be an enemy. No doubt somebody who'd gotten in the terrorists' way. I realized with a start that my uniform was gone, even my boots. I was naked! So was he. And god, was he naked! A big man. Taller than I--could see that even as we lay beside each other. His legs extended farther than mine, and he leaned over me while I was stretched out on my back. Damn, he was big. Shoulders so wide, so massive, I could shelter from the sun in the shade of his body. Big arms. The guy reminded me of a Turkish wrestler. And hairy. Coarse black hair covered him everywhere, over his chest, on his arms, down his belly. Two big gun turrets for pecs, and a belly like a stack of sandbags----he was a hairy Abrams tank. And down below, he had a field mortar! I always thought of myself as decently hung. Had no reason to be shy in the locker room. But he had something spectacular. I'd never seen such a cock on a human being. Soft, it looked about eight inches long, and about as big around as the handle of a Tommy gun. He was circumcised like most Muslims. Damn, if that thing ever gets hard, it'll shove me out of the lean-to! When I looked up at him in astonishment, he smiled. Voice like a foghorn: "Ils nous font nu, similaire à leurs frères dans Abu Ghraib." Ohmigod. They make us naked--like their brothers in Abu Ghraib. He went on: Qui êtes vous? Who am I? I struggled with my high school French. From long practice, I understood it well enough, but just as I could understand my college professors but not respond with their grammar and vocabulary, my own French was rough: "Je soo-ees le sole-dat American. Qui etts vooz?" "La Légion Etrangère française. Je suis turc." Damn, he was Turkish! He IS a Turkish wrestler! And from the legendary French Foreign Legion! "I am speak also the English." I sat up. "How did you get here?" "Same as you. My mens are ambush. I am not get away. They are catch me, and I am here." I told him my name, and his turned out to be something unpronounceable in Turkish. He smiled. "You are just calling me 'Partisan.'" I figured his Foreign Legion team had been assisting Algerian partisans, so "Partisan" it was. I quickly learned about life in the detention camp, a mini-Auschwitz. Prisoners they couldn't ransom they let die. Food, when we got it, was green slime with a few chunks in it ladled out into filthy plastic bowls. It tasted like piss. Probably was. The worst part was the beatings, and we got one at least three times a week, and sometimes they were serious. More than one man died from the beatings. I often came back from a beating so helpless Partisan had to take care of me for a couple of days. We "detainees" numbered a dozen or so. We never "hung out" together. Life in the detention camp was a constant struggle not to die in heat that reached at least 120 degrees every day. The only daily goal was to get out of the sun. There were no barracks, no prison shacks, not even tents for us. Every prisoner had to find his own shelter or build one with materials he could manage to steal. Some had built shelters, dug themselves holes, or crouched in the shade of the Jihad buildings. They were the unlucky ones; they got beatings every day--handy, as they were, to the guards. It was a sad miracle Partisan took me in. His earlier partner had died. His lean-to was good shade, and the scrap of canvas meant we didn't have to lie in the sand. I asked him where he got the canteen. "I kill a guard." "What??" "Is simple. Here is so hot, mans many time drop dead from sun. Attack of heart. The stroke." He smiled. "I come up behind guard. Snap neck. He die quiet. I take canteen. Other guards think he die of sun." Damn! Partisan is one mean motherfucker. In the first couple of days, I got beatings often. Guards yelled questions at me in French and Arabic, and when I recited only my name, rank, and serial number, they started in on me. The beatings always ended by tossing me out the door to lie in the sand outside the building. And then Partisan came over, picked me up, and took me back to the lean-to. He saved my life. Keeping the prisoners alive was not an important goal of the Jihad of Holy Fire. so if I had died of heat stroke, lying bloody and unconscious in the noonday sun, it would have been "the will of Allah." Partisan was my guardian angel. Partisan, too, got beatings. On occasion they dragged him away, and a while later I found him unconscious and bloody outside the building. I then dragged him back to the lean-to and took care of him. But for every time I nursed him back to consciousness, there were three times I woke up to his hand, cooled with water, gently rubbing my forehead. As days went by, we got to know each other. Partisan had joined the Foreign Legion as a way of getting French citizenship. He had served in a couple of wars and a few special-ops skirmishes. I told him about my home, about Evangeline, my wife, and how I missed her. About my son David and how proud I was of him. A high school kid, David was a basketball star and a handsome young guy if I did say so myself. Although the days were furnace hot, nights in the desert were cold. No one froze to death, but it was damn uncomfortable. Since we had no blankets, it wasn't long before Partisan and I woke up every morning snuggled close to each other, sharing body warmth. I liked him. Partisan was a good guy. Big as a Titan--standing up, he was a good 6'4" (to my 5'11")--and even with that fierce, dangerous look, his voice was actually gentle. Deep, chief-lion powerful, but gentle. One night as we lay spooning against each other for warmth, my back curled up against his chest, I felt jerks as if he were coughing--or crying. I turned to him "What is the matter?" Damn, he was crying. "I am miss my womans." I rolled onto my back, and we talked. "I wish to kiss my womans," he moaned. "How I miss this." Finally he looked deeply into my face, his black eyes burning into me like searchlights, blinding me. I heard only his voice. "We are the making believe. I am thinking of Açelya. You are thinking of Evangeline. We kiss them." Somehow it sounded good. His lips came closer to mine. They were the same lips that spoke soft encouragement to me when I lay moaning and bruised, the same lips that talked to me about home, the same lips that sometimes brought a smile to my face. He pulled me closer, and somehow in that terrible, upside-down world, it seemed right. Our lips touched. I strained to think of Evangeline, strained to think of her timid, shy face. I forced myself to imagine her without the strict, religious straitjacket that kept her gestures of affection almost formal. But I breathed in Partisan's scent. I smelled him every day, of course--none of us ever got to bathe, and we were all used to the stench of sweat and filth--but as he kissed me, I smelled something else, something earthy and fetid. Familiar. Although I kissed his face, somehow I smelled his balls. Or maybe I imagined I did. It was very strange. But also very arousing. I realized only Partisan was in my mind. I was kissing a man. Not Evangeline. The least I could do was play along, let him enjoy his fantasy. Gradually our arms went around each other, and we hugged tightly. The cologne of Partisan's balls--or what I imagined--turned me on so much, my breathing sped up. A deep, intense growl came from his throat, and his lips fired electricity across to mine. I closed my eyes, melting into him, and when I felt his tongue slip out and touch my lips, I gasped--but I opened my mouth to him, a great rush spreading through me. I French-kissed Evangeline often, but she almost never reciprocated. Her tongue stayed in her mouth. Proper. Modest. Decent. But with Partisan, my tongue rose to battle the invader, and as we thrust and parried, suddenly I was confused, emotions running riot inside me. God, I'm horny! Unsure of what to do, but loving the sensations surfacing from within me, I tilted my head to kiss him back more passionately. His fingers moved up my throat to tickle my jawline, and more passion shot through me. Instinctively, I deepened the kiss, sucking at his tongue, wallowing my lips over his, and--I never thought I would experience such a thing--when he rolled closer to me and our bodies touched full-length, I felt the big hardness of his cock against my own throbbing dong. Helpless to resist, I joined him as we ground our cocks together. I knew what was happening? And I was scared. I broke from the kiss, trying to pull away. Sweat ran into my eyes, and I desperately wiped at them, nervous as hell, wondering how the fuck I was going to get out of the situation. Partisan pulled me closer again. Fuck, what am I going to do? He saved my goddamned life! I can't refuse his friendship! I looked over at him. Rivulets of sweat coated his chest and lower belly, dripping from the black hair. I like hairy. As I digested that thought--god, I'd never thought anything like that before--Partisan's face moved closer, and damn, I opened my mouth and kissed him again without thought. Kissing a man, after all, was like kissing a woman--but there was something more. When his hand rested on the top of my head, I lowered my hand and rubbed his back, down low, finally feeling his buttock, cupping it, fondling it. He broke the kiss. "Come on now, let's do right." Do right? Do what right? He sat up and pulled me to him, grinding the wiriness of his beard against my cheek. His eyes were dark. Like a shark's. I glanced down between his legs. God! I'd never seen him hard before. Huge cock! Had to be a foot long! Fuck, look at that thing! The cockhead flared like a purple cobra. Wait a minute, what's happening to me?? Not only did I just kiss the guy, now I'm admiring his cock! He didn't miss that. He put his hand behind my neck and pulled me closer. Very close. The nudeness of his body against mine like a body-wash of Spanish Fly. "You are liking what you are looking?" To hell with it, I let myself go. I opened my mouth, kissed him again, and "Yeah." Fuck, my voice sounds like a sigh! Couldn't believe it. I was so goddamned horny, I almost swooned in his arms. He looked down at me with a smile. I was so horny I could've fucked a block of ice, I waited. Eager. Wanting to try--whatever he had in mind. Sure enough, Partisan's hand squeezed my butt, pulling me closer to him, mashing our two throbbing cocks together even tighter--and he nuzzled at my neck. Breathing hard, I raised my chin to give him better access, writhing like a cat as his hands rubbed all over me, stroking me like a pussycat. A moan I couldn't hold back sounded like a contented purr. Damn, what is he doing to me? I've never felt like this before! And it hit me: I've never felt so turned on before, not even with Evangeline! She never gave me foreplay like this. Foreplay?? Hell, this started out as a simple goddamned kiss! I couldn't deny it. For as much as my mind fought against it, my body was on fire, aching, eager, wanting--it. Whatever it was. When Partisan lifted my legs and placed them on his shoulders, I wasn't surprised. I couldn't even manage to be outraged. As he moved forward over me, he rolled my ass upward, baring my asshole, and once in the saddle, his body heat poured into me, and his sweat dripped onto my chest and belly, burning me like falling drops of lava. I bit my lip. God, it was wonderful. He lay over me, and as the firm hairs of his beard pressed against the side of my face, I moaned. His fucking cock was a goddamned heat-seeking missile--it hit my asshole on the first nudge. Sweat poured off me. Damn, am I sure I want to do this? I should tell him to stop! I thought about Evangeline. I thought about my son David. What he would think of me? But I didn't stop Partisan. Somehow I couldn't. The big organ pressed against my asshole, and with pain like he'd stabbed me with a sword, he stabbed me with his sword! Agony! Fuck, it was bad! I bit my lip, fighting to keep quiet, then gnashed my teeth as I learned a new torture almost worse than the beatings. I changed my mind. "Stop!" I hissed, but it was too late. Partisan's big cocked stretched my asshole wider than I thought possible and slid into me like skewering me on the barrel of an advancing tank! And he went in deep. Way deep! I swear I felt that big thing all the way up to my chest. He lay against me, his sweaty chest against my legs, pressing them back against my chest, his face against my cheek, his breath in my ear. But he had stopped. I wanted him also to pull it out, but I waited. Perhaps he would do it by himself. But as I waited, the pain began to fade away. It didn't hurt any more--or at least not so much. My asshole had stretched. My god, I took him deep in my guts. He's in me! Something about that thought awed me. Partisan lurched at me--a practice hump--then he rose up, looked down at me, and smiled. "Now you good. Now you ready." Hell, he didn't stop! Just letting me get used to his cock in my ass! I was pissed, but almost immediately the probing strokes of his big dong hit some sensitive spots inside me, and before I knew it, I got goose-bumps as my guts thrilled to his huge cock snaking in and out. Curious, I reached down, under my balls, to feel his cockshaft as he fucked me. God! I could not close my fingers around it. My poor asshole was strapped around that thing like a rubber band around a sewer pipe. Partisan took short strokes, scouring my butt (and my hand) with his wiry crotch hair. I retrieved my hand and stared up at him, awed at how masterful, how confident, how male he was His bravery and manhood excited me deeply. The more he thrust into me, the more pleasure he gave me until my eyes lost focus, and I gave in. I floated in mid-air. All the agonies of our situation disappeared. I was free! Partisan had brought me an unbelievable pleasure. Release from fears and terrors. Without thought I spread my legs wider to give him easier access. Again and again he hit something inside me that made my toes curl. Slowly rising on his hands, he settled back on his knees, humping more powerfully, and I had to close my eyes. It was too much. Running my hands up and down his sweaty arms, I felt an orgasm starting in my balls. I was going to cum! From being fucked! No! This is the height of surrender! God, he's making me cum just from fucking my ass! I gritted my teeth and swore to myself that I would not let it happen. Think about something unsexy! I cannot give up my manhood to him so completely! An old, fat, naked woman with a hairy crotch! That almost did it, but between moans and groans of his own, Partisan grunted in a hoarse voice how good I was, "tight ass," made him "feel the sexy," and that made me even hotter. God forgive me, I even clenched my ass to make my hole tighter for him. My bedroom that day when I was 12 and the toilet flooded over! Good. Sickening. The orgasm was struggling to get off the ground, but I had shortened the runway. I thought more about the bedroom: my puppet, Mopsy, sitting in the liquid shit, ruined forever. Then it hit me: Partisan had me like a puppet on a stick. God, how hot! I moaned uncontrollably as at that precise second he began to play with me--pinching my nipples, squeezing my balls, making me suck his finger--and I was a goner. If the shit from that toilet washed over my head, I couldn't have stopped the freight train of the newly supercharged orgasm as it built again in my balls. I couldn't hide it. "Oh, fuck, man, go faster! I'm cumming! I'm almost there!" Partisan switched somehow, changed the angle or something, and suddenly his cock hit my spot every time, every stroke. He smiled down at me, winner of the match, champion of our contest, and all I could do was wait, helpless. My life depended on that fabulous male organ of his. As he took total control of me and claimed my willing ass as his, he actually played my orgasm like an Indian snake-charmer, moving slower, moving faster, jabbing here, probing there. As I lay back, a slave to his pleasure, the clinching of my asshole around his cock was all I could manage. He brought me to the brink of orgasm again and again, only to pull me back, moaning and pleading, to start the build-up again. Desert Lover Takes Me--And My Wife After what felt like hours of almost-there, falling-back, almost-there, falling-back, he had me reduced to a begging, desperate, surrendering slut. He took his arms from around my thighs and dropped my legs from his shoulders, and I willingly spread my thighs even wider apart, wallowing as his big cock moved in even deeper. He was in control. And I loved it--as long as he would get me there! "Please! Please!" Breathless gasps. "Almost there! Please!" Partisan owned me. As soon as he figured I was sufficiently trained, he gave me a couple of good, deep, asshole-spreading lunges, then startled me with a big, slurping lick at my ear! Too goddamned, fucking much! I slipped blissfully past the point of no return. Oh, god, YES! With one last, desperate clenching of my asshole around him, I surrendered to the giant, blossoming flower of my climax and held onto him in a mighty hug I guess that pushed Partisan over the edge, too, because his monster swelled even bigger, wonderfully, painfully huge, and his wonderful telescope turned me into his quivering whore as all things human spun into a whirlpool of maddening ecstasy. I think I blacked out for a couple of seconds. The last thing I remember was a soaring bliss so intense it was beyond pleasure, almost all the way around to pain again, intoxicating more than I could stand. Never! Never had I gone through such an orgasm! Evangeline on her horniest day gave me a tenth of the ecstasy I got from Partisan! I felt hot splatters on my face and around my lips--I had shot great proofs of my maleness, my white, slimy semen, all the way up to my head! But I couldn't beat the pro--the deep warmth in my guts let me know Partisan had bred me, pumped me full of the proof of his victory. He was the Alpha male. I lay under him, enjoying his weight on me and the cooling lava flows inside until he pulled back, and when his cock slipped out of my ass, I felt a terrible vacuum. I was empty. Unused. A void until he filled me again. We spent the night spooning together as usual, but that time with his jism running out of my ass. I couldn't get to sleep for a long time. The following morning I felt something new. Instead of the usual soft meat of his cock, something big and hard pressed into my ass-crack. Ohmigod, should I let him cum in me again?? But my body decided for me. I put up no resistance, rose up onto my hands and knees, and he mounted me again. He started to push, and I couldn't help it--I let out moans. His big cock stretched my hole and slowly invaded me again, and I wriggled with pleasure. Damn, that felt so good! His tongue licked my ear again as he started that fabulous rhythm, making me instantly a raving, rutting bitch in heat. I laid my head on my crossed arms as my stallion bred me, shoving me against the sand, setting me afire and making me so goddamned glad I was a man! Couldn't help myself--with every thrust of his hips, I huffed a delirious grunt of pleasure. Damn, I loved it! The feel of him, how his cock pulsed and throbbed in my hole, the heat of his body on my back, the slickness of his sweaty chest! My own cock was hard as an iron bar, and I lost the last shred of my male ego as I realized all I wanted to do was make it easier for him, help him, do anything to get his big cock in me deeper. "Yes, now you like, no?" And he stopped. I waited. Come on, come on! His body remained still, but my asshole, tight around the wonderful cock like a workman's arms straining around a garbage can, drove me crazy. In a half-life, so dizzy with pleasure I could hardly breathe, I gasped and groaned to him to continue the adventure, insane for him to keep fucking me! It was the last stage, and I knew it. The last line in the sand. He wants me to beg him. For as much as I hated the idea, my body loved him, loved that cock, submitted to him, wanted him to have his way. In the end I gasped, "Yeah! Yeah, I like it! Don't stop, man, fuck me!" With a triumphant chuckle, he began long-stroking, his cockhead banging against that magic place. I knew my duty: I clenched my asshole around his pistoning cock, adding to his pleasure, and-- --Suddenly it hit me: I loved the way I could relax; loose myself from all my manly prides, ambitions, and dominance; allow myself to float helpless in his power, defenseless against anything he wanted to do to me. I love to be his bitch! Pumping fiercely, Partisan gasped, flecks of foam spitting from his mouth, "Evet, şimdi kardeşi, bir bebek!" I didn't understand a word, but with the passion in his voice and the frenzy in his eyes, it was the horniest thing I had ever heard. By then I was so pleasured--not to the point of orgasm, but serene, delighted, ecstatic--that my head lolled to the side, my tongue hanging out, eyes clenched shut, and again I felt the big stud machine-gunning me. I counted four shots, but it went on after that, long after that. Even when finished, his final lunges kept me in "ass-pleasure," his tongue licking at my ear. When he pulled out his softening cock, my afterglow was a motherfucker--feeling the cool air on my dilated asshole, I crouched there in continuing joy, a brood mare bred and happy. God, I loved to get fucked in the ass! I looked up at him. What does "Evet, şimdi kardeşi, bir bebek" mean? He smiled. "I speaking Turkish when I cum. Is means, 'Yes, my brother, now we make baby!'" My god. With that, he rolled away and went to sleep. Ram, Bam, Thank you, Man. But even the fact that he didn't give a shit about my pleasure turned me on. When he got horny, I was just a tight hole for him. It was humiliating not the fair-play, "you help me, buddy, and I'll help you" of male comrades but rather the "fuck the bitch and move on" attitude of a man and his conquest. I rolled over onto my back and stared into the darkness--it wasn't cold enough yet to cuddle together for warmth. I was the conquest. Not a man. I gulped. I truly was his bitch. As that thought sank in, and as I realized (to my horror) that it turned me on, my cock throbbed almost painfully, and I went into an orgasm! Incredible! My legs stiffened, and an atomic bomb went off in my balls! Each glorious blast of sperm brought a staccato grunt from deep in my throat while waves of fire swept over me, a shuddering ecstasy so intense my teeth chattered and I spasmed like an epileptic. My cock almost glowed in the dark as giant spurts of white slime coated me from belly to chin. And over the flames and mind-blowing ecstasy, like the voice of God over the tidal waves of the Flood, I knew: the terrible, shattering ejaculation--without even touching myself--came simply from the thought of Partisan unloading in my guts! I felt the earth move; my life had changed. After that, life became a routine of scuttling to the feeding station once a day for the rancid food and some water, keeping out of the sun during the day, cuddling with Partisan to keep warm at night, and fucking. Fucking every morning, at least twice during the day--quickies to keep from getting overheated--and sometimes four or five times during the nights. It depended on whether or not Partisan was in the mood. He taught me to suck his cock. I mean, hell, his cock stretched my ass on a regular basis, how much worse could cocksucking be? I don't think I did a good job on him, though. He was just too big. Nobody could get that whole thing into his mouth. I glommed onto his cockhead and licked around it while I jacked the big shaft with both hands. The first time, I thought he would warn me before he came. Nope. Surprised me with a gush of hot slime into my mouth. The surprise was that it wasn't disgusting, not nauseating. It was--different. Salty. Sour and bitter at the same time. Not unpleasant. In fact I acquired a taste for it. Didn't slow his libido, though. For as many times as I sucked his cock and swallowed all his thick, white cream, he still had enough steam to stretch my ass again and again in the night. One of his favorite mounts was to take me after curling me up into a ball, my hips over my face, my legs stretched out beyond my head. In that painful curl, my hard cock point straight at my own mouth, and when Partisan got in the saddle and started fucking, he liked to push my buttons. Unable to reach my ear with his tongue, he stuck a finger in my ear, and it worked. Coughing and sputtering, I nearly drowned in a fierce ejaculation of my own semen over my face. Partisan laughed. He owned me. I was his toy. Then he let loose in me, and I again I got that warm fullness that was the end-all of my world. I was his fuck-toy, and he pretzeled me into every position in the Kama-Sutra. He also taught me "sex spots." All he had to do was tap my thigh, and I rolled over onto my back and spread for him. A tap on my butt sent me scrambling to crouch on hands and knees while he mounted. A pinch on my shoulder brought my mouth instantly to his cock, sucking eagerly. Obediently. His magic tongue had trained me like Pavlov's dogs--but when I got the stimulus, I didn't exactly salivate. After licking my ear hundreds of times as I climaxed, all he had to do was lick my ear as I stood in the food line, and to my red-faced humiliation, my cock shot up like an expanding balloon, my knees weakened, I staggered to keep my balance, and I cummed! Cock shooting my jism in front of the grim faces of the prisoners and the guards. Some prisoners laughed. All the guards did. "Le Turc a une prostitué!" I felt like shit, but there was nothing I could do. The beatings went on, and the food was still sickening, but Partisan turned the hell into a horny heaven for me several times a day. So being a push-button cum-machine for his amusement wasn't so bad. As weeks and months went by, I wondered if I had indeed been written off by my Special Forces team. But one night we heard the sound of helicopters in the distance. The guards switched off all lights. The copters came closer until finally the roar deafened us, and I knew they were landing somewhere in the darkness. The guards ran around yelling to each other. Partisan and I looked up into the sky and all around us but could see nothing--the choppers were blacked out, the men's faces covered in camouflage paint, wearing dull black battle dress uniforms. Practically invisible. Suddenly I heard a guttural gasp, and in the distance the silhouette of one of the guards slumped to the ground. Behind him stood a man wearing a helmet, a K-Bar knife in his hand. "Captain Tennesy!" His voice was a loud whisper, a hiss. "Here!" "C'mon! Chopper's waiting!" I got up, then reached back and seized Partisan's arm, pulling him to his feet. "I'm bringing another man!" "What?" "We've got to get this man out, too, he saved my life--" --At that moment machine-gun fire blasted through the silence, and muzzle flashes blazed from inside the guards' buildings. "No sweat, sir! All the prisoners are coming with us! The guards are now neutralized. This camp is shut down." When the helicopters were in the air, we looked back at huge explosions as the timed charges went off and the camp was once more nothing but a wide stretch of Sahara sand. To cut a long story short, Partisan ended up back in the States with me, out of the Foreign Legion, on the path to American citizenship. After the tearful reunion with Evangeline and David, I sponsored Partisan to become an American citizen, and when my wife and son learned how he had saved my life, they agreed to let him stay with us until he got a job and moved out on his own. I was proud of David. I found out I had been gone five months, but somehow in the meantime he had grown into a stunningly handsome guy. Face like a movie star. Blond, tousled hair like Robert Redford. Tall and lean, he was no modern, overweight teenager. Damn, I was proud! Life didn't go back to "normal," however. We set up a spare bedroom as Partisan's. He was a house guest--but not quite. Even though I was happily back in bed with Evangeline, my asshole ached to be filled again. To be filled with Partisan's big cock. We developed a little routine--whenever Evangeline wasn't home, out shopping, at her job at the PX, or wherever, and David was out with his friends--I found myself on my back, my legs spread for my big Turkish lover, writhing under him as he tamed me with his big whip again and again. After a few months, of course, Evangeline caught us. Came home unexpectedly. Nailed me dead to rights. I looked up to see her staring down at Partisan as he nailed me. That led to a desperate conversation. Oddly, Evangeline turned her head while Partisan and I pulled on our underwear, then we began to talk. Furious, she spat things about divorce, lawsuits, ruining my military career, etc. Completely de-balled, I was desperate but could think of nothing to say. Only to plead with her. Beg her to forgive me. Not to do all the things she threatened to do. Then Partisan began to talk to her, his deep, gentle voice like a massage with heated oil. He calmed her down. Spoke to her of love. Of easier, more comfortable ways in exotic foreign countries. Of pleasure. Of fulfillment. I couldn't believe my eyes. Evangeline, who could not have missed seeing Partisan's giant cock when he pulled out of me--and I could imagine her horror and disgust--was staring at the big bulge in the front of his jockey shorts. I got that feeling deep in my belly as I watched him with Evangeline. I had betrayed her with Partisan, but then I felt betrayed--she was interested in him. Sure enough, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jockey shorts. The hint was obvious, and I got that deep itch in my ball sack. My asshole twitched. There was no denying he had me hooked, but from the look on Evangeline's face, she was on the hook, too. I felt disgust for a second as I watched her slipping under the power of the big stallion, but then I just watched, allowing myself to enjoy the moment. Evangeline would soon feel Partisan's power. My asshole twitched again. I groped my throbbing dong as I watched. I didn't care any more. Evangeline had eyes only for him, and I was amazed at how far out Partisan had drawn my shy, conservative wife. She made no objection as he reached out and drew her to him, kissing her, pulling her shirt up over her head. God, she had never been that sexy, that easy with me. She stared into his eyes as he slipped her bra off with a single, masterful flick at the back. Evangeline had good tits. I loved to squeeze and suck them. But as I watched, Evangeline's face flushed and her breathing sped up as Partisan's big hands cupped her tits, thumbing and teasing her nipples into bullets. Her eyes closed, Evangeline breathed through her mouth as Partisan fondled her, and finally panting and gasping, she reached out, fumbled around for the waistband of his shorts, and pulled them down. I saw the awe and fear in her face. She reached out, almost timidly, and gripped his cock, slowly pumping it. As much as I wanted to run over and suck that big thing, I was frozen in my tracks. I bit my lip: the master was pursuing his pleasure, and my duty as his whore was to help him. Partisan looked over at me. "Fuck, man, you not hide from me. You make your clothes off, too." God, he controls us both. As I stepped out of my underwear, Partisan stared at Evangeline, and she obediently lowered her own pants. Damn, she's wearing a thong! She was hot for this from the very beginning! As Evangeline stroked him again, hypnotized, Partisan yanked down her G-string, and her neatly trimmed cunt was open to his gaze. He looked at me, and when his eyes met mine, he smiled and nodded his head. It was the last moment Evangeline belonged to me. She was like a bitch in heat, and he took her like a bitch, savagely, unmercifully, almost as a sign to both of us that he was in charge, that we existed for his pleasure. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her so fiercely, the kiss was literally a mouth-fuck. He pushed her up against the wall like he had dragged her to an alley and was about to fuck her against the bricks. My cock swelled still harder. I knew the passion and manhood blazing into her from that kiss, and I spotted his mighty cock pressed hard into her belly--she was that short--but the pressure came from her: Evangeline's legs strained against him, crushing her belly against Partisan's giant dong. Then she spread her legs, and I saw why. His hand had dropped to her cunt, and I knew a finger was forcing its way into her. What a kiss! When she swayed a little--knees gone weak--the kiss broke slightly, revealing his tongue gouging into her mouth. Her own tongue had been conquered. And so was Evangeline. He didn't even take her to bed. Didn't even lay her down on the couch or even the floor. He broke the kiss, and as she looked up into his face, he put a big hand on each of her buttocks and with a mighty heft, he lifted her off her feet, up into the air and against him, then he let her slide down his body, her drooling vagina leaving a trail of slime down his belly on its way to the executioner's stake. At the moment he lowered her down to the point his cock pushed against her cunt, Evangeline looked over at me, and our eyes met--the last time I would ever look into the eyes of innocence. She let out a spicy, vixen scream, her head fell back, her mouth open, as he impaled her on the giant cannon between his legs. She trembled. Her legs, which she had wrapped around his waist, shivered and shook, and her fingernails dug into his arms. His giant cock had stretched her open and touched her in ways I never could. Partisan claimed her as his, and as he sank in balls-deep, her open mouth and glazed eyes told me we were no longer man and wife; we were Partisan's whores. He smiled down at her as she screamed out obscenities I had never heard from her before--earthy, vile love-words from the base, primal parts of the brain. She screamed about his hairy chest against her tits. She yelled that she wanted him to fuck her to death. God, she loved it! Partisan looked over at me with a grim smile and beckoned me over with a nod of his head. I had surrendered everything to him. He was taking my wife, but I couldn't stop him; I could only help him. I scurried over, dropped to my knees behind him, and spread his buttocks with my hands. I plunged my tongue onto his asshole, rimming him to increase his pleasure as he fucked Evangeline. I felt the muscles as his hips lunged against Evangeline. She was going crazy. Raving that he should "plunge that thick fuck-meat" up her cunt until he split her in half. She screamed that she wanted to lick the sweat off his balls. I had never heard such words from her mouth. Didn't think she even knew them. Like he had trained me, Partisan had more in store for Evangeline. He lifted her up and off him, to her gasping, whimpering dismay, and he let her fall to the floor, pushing me back from his ass. "On hands and knees. Like dog." Partisan's voice held no affection. It was an order. I was not truly surprised. I knew Partisan's power, and Evangeline had already danced ecstatically on his cock, but it was still a milestone moment when the prim, proper woman who had never let me have sex with her except in the "correct" missionary position, rolled over onto her hands and knees, lowered her head to the floor, raised her tail-end invitingly, and showed Partisan (and me) the gaping hole that was her cock-reamed cunt. She was wet. Damn wet. Dripping wet. I'll be damned if she didn't even wag her butt, hoping to egg him on. He dropped onto her but a little too high, and I realized Evangeline would cross yet another line. She let out an agonized scream, and I knew exactly what she was feeling. Partisan was fucking her in the ass, and as a first-timer, she was going through some real pain. Desert Lover Takes Me--And My Wife God, he was good. The entry pain was unavoidable, but once in, he masterfully slowed the process to allow her outraged asshole to get used to the stretch, then he inched in slowly, penetrating her until his balls pressed against her cunt. She panted like a racehorse. Finally he began long, slow strokes, and--just like I had been conquered--Evangeline let out a long, low moan of pleasure. Then he let loose and fucked her like a dog. I was amazed at how far out his assault was--Was he that savage with me? Probably. Somehow I don't remember it that way. Probably because I wanted it--I looked down at Evangeline's face, biting down on her lower lip then sucking on it, her eyes tight shut, breathing so hard little flecks of foam gathered at the sides of her mouth. She wanted it too. We were Partisan's eager whores. Every so often, Evangeline stiffened and let out a long, high-pitched scream--yet another orgasm. In her cunt and in her ass, Partisan had driven her into at least a dozen. What a stud. With me, I know she often faked it. I had to admit it: Partisan was the superior male. I didn't get any that "real" action that night. It was Evangeline's indoctrination time. But sex from that time on was a merry-go-round centered on Partisan's giant cock. Every day when I got home from duty, I stripped down for a session with Partisan. Sometimes Evangeline joined in, but after a couple of months, she was pregnant. Sometimes I assisted Partisan as he took Evangeline--guiding his cock into her, supporting her head if he lunged her off the bed, sucking his cock clean after he finished with her. Evangeline and I fucked a few times. Neither of us had any real cravings for it--I was too small to fill her the way she had learned to like it, and I got much bigger orgasms from a cock in my asshole. We still loved each other. Just not as lovers. For sex we were Partisan's slaves. Sometimes Partisan ordered me to fuck Evangeline at the same time he did. On his back with Evangeline skewered on his big dong, she got my smaller one up her ass. Sometimes the opposite. My swimmers flooded Evangeline's cunt every once in a while, but nothing like the tidal waves of Turkish sperm that washed out her pussy every day. As time went by I was worried. I knew Evangeline's baby wasn't mine. How would I explain to David when his mother's child looked like the house guest? Something else. Something even worse. When I got home after being gone on a mission for a couple of weeks, I was just in time to attend David's 18th birthday party. When they met me at the door, Evangeline hugged and kissed me, of course, and David gave me a big hug. But then he licked my ear. Ohmigod! Even though the lick came from my own son, my cock jerked and began to swell as I'd been trained. Then my blood ran cold, killing the orgasm. Has Partisan turned my son?? The big Turk stood behind Evangeline, smiling proudly. I looked at David, but his expression told me nothing. Maybe it was just playfulness. Maybe he didn't mean anything by it. I had my ass regularly reamed out by the Turkish tank, and I craved to be tamed by his big cock, but I wouldn't wish being a queer on anybody. Living as a fag in the US Army was like walking over eggs, like smoking a dynamite stick. Any second my whole world could explode around me. I could only pray David was still straight. The baby was born a few months before David's graduation from high school. I had been a bundle of nerves for weeks. What would I tell David? How would I explain to anybody that my wife had given birth to a child obviously the house guest's? As we sat in the waiting room, I was so nervous my fists clenched, my knuckles white. I hadn't slept for two nights. Finally we saw him. The nurse walked toward us carrying a small bundle. How will I ever explain this to David? Cute little guy. A miracle, really: Blond hair like mine. He was a hairy little thing, and he had a big cock. Damn big for such a tiny little guy. Hard to tell, really, which swimmers made him. I was so relieved I fucked Partisan's brains out as soon as we got back home, and we got it on until David came in from his date. Partisan and I had hurried to sit on the couch, watching TV in our underwear--as we usually lounged around the house. "Good movie, son?" "Yeah." He snickered. "Got Gina to gimme a blowjob." We laughed, but inside I heaved a big sigh. Evangeline and the baby--we named him Barke, an African name meaning "miracle"--came home, and I saw right away Evangeline was mightily horny--she hadn't had any for a couple of months. Luckily David had another date, and as soon as he left, Partisan's big dong was going in where Barke had come out, and as a follow-up, he laid me on the floor, doubled up in the suck-my-own cock donut he taught me in the detention camp. As Partisan drove me into an orgasm, my own jism splattering all over my face, Evangeline watched us, sipping a cup of tea. A few months later I came home from another mission, but I was three days early--the sniper got his man in a taxi at the airport, long before the planned encounter later at his mansion--and we got out of town. Evangeline had taken Barke to visit his grandmother, so my cock was hard. I would have several days alone with Partisan, as long as we could keep David out of the way. I opened the front door quietly and slipped inside, eager to surprise him. I stripped off my uniform and boots as I moved silently to Partisan's bedroom door. Naked, about to open the door and burst in, I heard strange sounds. Heavy breathing. Grunts and moans. "Ettin bana! Ah, ben sizin köle!" Ohmigod, if he's yelping in Turkish, he's really turned on!! Fearing the worst, I pushed open the door. My mouth fell open. Almost hit the ground. Partisan lay naked on the floor, his huge, hairy body wound up into a tight ball, his legs looped back over his head, his huge cock in his mouth. And mounted on him, lunging violently into my Turkish lover, was David. "Yer my bitch, ain'tcha, Parti?" "Yes! My gods, yes! Fuck me, fuck me, David!"