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Conquered!

By: Radovain



My name is Melody and I have always enjoyed struggling, with men. In fact the more intense physically, the better. Not violence, just the battle of his irresistible lust versus my immovable resistance. Perversely it turns me on. I get all wet and stimulated.

My first boyfriend sweet-talked the pants off me. At 19, I lost my virginity in a cloud of lust and naivety. My second lover spent over a year of bedroom wrestling to get into my pants. Even after the first successful consummation, I sometimes resisted and more often than not, with success. My short-lived third boyfriend had his bed broken. Such was the intensity of our struggle. My fourth and fifth boyfriends spent many days of intense, sweaty frustration. Sprinkled in-between these men stand a succession of guys encountering failure and defeat. 

In short, in all my bedroom battles, I never lose, except I want to. My 5 losses and over twenty victories attest to that. (At 5' 10" and stats of 36-28-39,) I am a tall, well-built girl. My successful scalps have made me ready to follow any man anywhere, confident in my physical ability. Anytime I hear of rape, I laugh. Such nonsense never happens to me and I have over twenty scalps to prove it. Let me tell you the secret. People think I am crazy when I say I enjoy struggling and the amount of my victories. The truth is, I am not fighting against a man's strength but the strength of his erection. A man will lose his dick-strength long before he loses his physical power. Frustration and mental exhaustion will drain the blood out of his tool. So in a contest between me and a man's desire, I win hands down insofar as I don't succumb to arousal.

When Emman invites me out, I go without a second thought. He is smooth and exudes confidence. What is another date? But my confidence misleads me. 

I like tall slim men, preferably around six feet. Emman is SIX-THREE AND HUGE. Chitchat follows a dinner, by then bye. Ditto for the second date. He makes no move; no kiss attempt or fondle try. I begin to wonder when he will strike. I know he finds me attractive. I can see it from his surreptitious looks when he thinks I am not looking. Or should I say more accurately the way he looks at my figure, specifically my ass. More facially attractive than beautiful, God blessed me with great curves. My legs, ass and hips are to die for. Below a slim waist, my jutting ass in jeans is my most captivating feature.

Or so the numerous admirers tell me over the years. Men drool at the creaminess of my curves, at the fullness of it, especially the extravagant way my buttocks swell into twin mounds of succulent flesh swaying and undulating in unison with my gait, which took two years to perfect back in the day.

When down to pant and bra, my apple-shaped bottom is so sexy that my panties usually sink into my ass cheeks. But at twenty-five such voluptuousness has a down side; the ceaseless struggle to remain sexy and the constant battle with weight. Name the diet and the kinds of exercise to make my hips and ass smaller. I have tried them all. But no matter how much weight I lose, my ass and hips remain defiant. When Emman calls for a third date, I happily accept. He is not really my kind of guy, being too large, but he is good company. And I have nothing better to do. My fifth boyfriend is a dead-end relationship. We just fuck from moment to moment with no future in prospect. I cut the feet from under him after two months and ten bouts. At my age, a girl has to start thinking about settling down before I go to pot.

The day of my third date with Emman unfolds into a sunny dry afternoon. Wearing wrap-around stretch jeans that cling to me like a second skin and sleeve-less blouse, I am just begging to be fucked. Or at least open to an attempt. 

For under my jeans is a very tight girdle panties and a chemise covers my breasts, is a sports bra. My standard battle equipment when going on dates. Mid afternoon arrives, when he drives up to my apartment in a SUV wearing sandals, three-quarter trousers and a red shirt over a singlet. Isn't he a bit too old for those clothes? I wonder.

A visit to the beach and a plate of roasted fish, chips and a few drinks later, he suggests we visit a friend of his. I give him a big smile. Who does think he is fooling? You are in for a shocker mate! 

I like him as friend but frankly, I see nothing more. Except for the eating, drinking and chatting, this is going nowhere. I will end this after this date. If he tries to impose himself, a dose of humble pie would make it easier to drop him. Guys with deflated egos can always take a hint. We arrive at a modern two-storey house in a new development. When he uses a key to open the double doors, my heart starts to pound. Here we go. All I need now is to tip him over the edge. He holds the door open for me. Rolling my hips in my best sauntering strut, I walk forward. I hear his deep wheezing breath as his eyes doubtless follow my full rounded buttocks sway enticingly, each cheek making a provocative circling motion as I glide on. He follows. We are in a sparsely decorated apartment's living room. 

"What a lovely place," I say. 

"Let me show you around." He replies with a timbre suggestive of a stone stuck in his throat.

The click of a door being locked greets my ears like a Michael Jackson melody. Let the rumble begin! My heartbeat rattles my chest. Will or won't he?

As I look around for which couch to park my ass, I feel a large hand gently stroke my ass cheeks. His heavy breathing brushes my ear as he fondles my firm behind. 

"Hey," I say.

The smell of cognac escapes his breath. "Your ass is so beautiful Melody. Its so firm and bouncy." 

He palms each ass cheek while pressing me in a corner. 

After a few moments, I spin around and push him away. "What do you think you are doing?"

His eyes grow wide in momentary surprise, then he closes in. "I want you."

"I am sure you do." I try to retreat, but my behind jams against the solid wall. 

"You can try to resist, but you won't get away."

"I certainly will. Take me home."

"In your dreams."

"I want to leave now."

"You are going nowhere."

His hands shoot out, grabbing my wrists. He spins me around and pushes me towards a side door. 

His grip around my waist tightens as he manoeuvres me through the living room to the door. I dig my sandals into the carpet, but he half-lifts me forward. Past the door, we stumble through. The room is bare but for a large king-size bed. 

"You have such a lovely body."

"Keep your hands to yourself."

Again, I dig in my heels, and drop into a crouch, grinding my ass into his loins, hoping to stop our advance to the bed. His powerful hips ground against my ass and I feel the straining hardness under his pants aching with need.

"You can't stop me if I don't." With a grunt, he lifts me completely off my feet and throws me onto the bed. 

I fall in a tangle, but he gives me no chance to get back up. Moving like a bear, he drops on top of me. "Get off me!" I trash under him but he smothers me. 

"After I have you." His weight is crushing as it sinks atop me, his chest flattening my breasts against my ribcage. With he eye level with mine, he grabs my wrists and imprisons them in one huge paw.

"This is rape!"

He looks at me, his eyes aflame with lust. His face swells making him seem ugly. "Yes, the forceful taking of..."

I hate the gleam I see. Triumph? I haven't even started, you bastard! "That's what turns you on, isn't it?"

Horrified, I freeze but moan and whimper as his free hand strokes my back and kneads my buttocks. "Your body is so exciting."

Twisting my body I struggle harder, determined to get away. I have defeated worse, haven't I? I think I can, anyway. My hands slip out of his grip. "You bastard!"

"It's your sexy walk. The way your breasts jut against your tight blouse. The way your tight jeans moulds over your saucy hips."

I beat his back with my hands. But it's like hitting a barn door. Panting, I try to push him off, but he renders my struggles all but useless by again grabbing my hands in a vice-like grip and holding them over my head, while pinning me under his body.

"Let go of me!"

The bastard smirks at me. "Not even if my life depended on it. Such a bounteous ass. Such saucily thrusting buttocks. I've got to have you now."

Blushing, fury overtakes me. Who does this bastard think he is? "You will do no such thing."

The smirk grows larger. "I can't wait any longer." 

His left hand slides up my bosom, his fingers grasping my hair and turning my head upwards.

His lips press against mine. I try to pull away, try to turn away, but all to no avail. When his lips slid over mine, I keep my teeth clenched. Palpitations sweep me when I feel his hardness pressing against me. He feels big! The first shoots of uncertainty surface. Can I win this? Our colliding bellies crush his erection, a powerful log of wood. 

With shock, I begin to sense just how long and thick this lumber of flesh is. Using his free hand, he loosens my belt and unzips my jeans. Releasing my hands, his hands descend to the top of my jeans. We begin a tug of war that I soon lose. The jeans fall first to my knees then my ankles. I kick at him with both feet but this only helps the jeans come off. He falls off the bed, but before I can get up, his suffocating weight re-imprisons me.

"God," I pant, "get your hands off me you bastard!"

"Or what, bitch?"

We continue our struggle in silence. His hands encircle mine. He forces his lips to mine. 

Resisting, I shake my head to the side. 

"Stop! NO!" I squeal. I am getting fearful. He is so strong! Defeat stares me in the face. Holding my hands tightly over my head with just one of his, he unfastens his belt, and drops his pants with one hand. He loosens his shirt, and then by expertly exchanging hands, takes off his shirt without releasing my wrists.

"No. No -- Please." I plead, trying a different tack. "This isn't right. Please, you must stop now!" 

"I will do no such thing," he replies, mimicking me.

He begins massaging my soft quivering buttocks from behind. As he grinds his loins harder against me, I gasp, holding my breath, when the caged hardness presses into my cleft. the clasping fingers of his hand teases my buttocks while the hardness of his pulsating penis grinding into my loins .

"Please don't," I whisper. "I'm begging you. Don't. N-No one has ever done this to me!"

"Always a first time for everything, dear." 

"Ohhh, don't do this to me please!" 

"My dear, what you need is to be fucked properly. I am going to this, even if only this once." 

"Please, Emman, please let me go!"

"Too late. Enjoy yourself. Nobody would know."

"I-I don't care," I moan miserably.

"I want you, and this is going to happen."

It is useless. He is huge, almost a gorilla. With a growl, he locks one burly arm around my slender waist, forcing me backwards. Again, I find myself pinned between his hard body and the mattress.

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Dirty little whore! Wagging your ass around in front of me! You want it! Don't you? Don't you?!"

With one hand, he assaults my blouse. With the other big paw, he holds both of my wrists without even showing the strain, although his face glistens with sweat. I am in no better shape as rivulets boils down me. He opens button after button then by releasing one hand at a time, tugs the blouse off me. I buck and jerk. But it's useless against such power. 

Fear envelops me. 

"NOOO!!! DON'T DO THIS! NOOO!!!"

"Shut the fuck up bitch! You are going to take me. And you are going to enjoy it."

"Get off me. What do you think you are doing?"

"What does it look like?" 

Somewhere in the back of my mind the murmurings of disquiet, rise up to storm-like intensity. I am really losing this! I strive to resist harder. But in the same overwhelming forceful manner, my bra flies off and my breasts spring free. 

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

His hot hungry mouth descends on my lovely breasts, greedily ravishing the distended nipples. His voracious mouth clamps over them, sucking like suctions. He then bites down on them. Shocks erupt through me as I feel the buds respond and grow taut between his roiling tongue and clamping teeth. 

Kicking my heels, I struggle with all my might, but my frantic squirming seems only to excite him.

"Shut the fuck up," he growls between clenched teeth. "You better stop struggling and enjoy it." 

"Why are you doing? Oh God, what is...?"

"You are going to get fucked and fucked good." 

"Stop you beast!!"

Releasing my hands, he pulls at my girdle panties, the last bastion of my modesty.

He sneers. "I will do no such thing."

"No. You can't! Noooo!" I shriek when he tugs at my girdle. 

"You say 'no' but you want it as much as I do." He reaches for my panties. I clamp my legs together. But he grabs my legs, and using his knees like an anvil, pries them apart. I whimper as he spreads me. A final jerk and I am wearing nothing. Lifting myself by my elbows, I strive to get up, but my trembling body is slow to respond. His body completely covers mine, he again uses his strength and weight to pin me back in place. The bed creaks. His chest, hard and muscular squashes my perky breasts, his thighs, legs and belly imprisons mine. 

"Stop it! No, this is enough!" 

"Stop fighting, you minx, you'll just make it worse." Locking my hands with one of his, his free hand pinches and fondles my nipples. 

Sweat starts to run down my breasts, and for some reason I become very conscious of it. Suddenly, I am very aware of my body in general. His enormous weight is unmovable. His lock on my wrists unbreakable. Come, girl give it your best! Instead, my nipples harden under his assaults. My heaving breasts point toward the ceiling, glistening from his hot saliva. As he darts from one nipple to the other with his mouth, my nipples become beckons of pulsating charges. Shocked, I moan as tiny electric shocks from my breasts spread through my whole body. My skin tingles in their wake. Electric current seizes my spine, racing all the way down to my toes. The warmth in my crotch seeps to my brain. As does my tiring limbs that begin to feel laden. I am at the edge of my tether! Being truly overpowered for the first time in my life. I struggle to master my emotions, focusing on my clamped ankles.

"You are going to get what you deserve."

"No. No. Please stop."

Drool runs out a corner of his mouth. His eyes gleam. I turn my head away in disgust.

Knees made of iron pry my thighs apart. Riding his midriff, my legs kick futilely on either side of his hips. I feel the cock-head press against my pussy lips and rub softly up and down the cleft. I feel the head of his cock, like some mammoth baton at the entrance to my tensed vagina. Shutting my eyes, I tightly contract my cuntal muscles in an attempt to prevent penetration. A short, sharp pain tears my midriff as the huge baton invades me.

"AAAAaaaaggghhhaaaa!!!" My eyes fly open, staring at the sneering demon above me.

The meaty head ploughs forward. My pussylips fold inward under the force of his entry. The moist passage follows suit, breached under the sheer power of his thrust. His monster erection sinks into me with agonizing slowness, and I feel my moist tube start to engulf his turgid tool.

My stomach quivers when I feel my soft flesh giving. The lust-swollen head sinks into me an invading cudgel brushing away my pussy's reluctance. He lets out a grunt, ramming his hard dick. I whimper as I feel a tremendous pressure invade my belly. It seems to crush aside my bladder and bulldoze away my intestines as he sinks deeper into my pussy. 

"Ooohhh, don't! Oh, my God," I squeal, "it's so big! Take it out!" 

He snorts. "Not on your life!"

A gush of hot air escapes my lips. The invader expands my vaginal walls, snaking up to my cervix in its seemingly endless march to my womb. Closing my eyes, I go limp. He groans out a sigh of pleasure that repulses me. "See how tight you are!"

"No!" I squeal. 

"Yes!" 

The bristly hairs encircling the base of his cock scrape against the my shaven mons tickling my clitoris. His big, dangling balls brush across the upturned cheeks of my ass. Its done! His shaft conquers my depths!

The bed creaks as he begins his toil. His clenching buttocks jerk spastically up and down, as if he means to punch a hole right through the crevice of my ass. 

"Please! Take it out! Oh, don't! Ooohhh! Stop! Stop! No farther! Take it out!"

"Baby! What a ripe, tight cunt! I love you, sweetheart! And I am going to keep fucking you! Damn!"

His balls slap against my loins. I have become a piece of meat impaled by a skewer. To my complete humiliation, my womb now willingly swallows him to the hilt. He slides in my moistness so easily. He pulls back his entire shaft from me, leaving the enormous cap in my pussy. 

I whimper and tears of defeat fill my eyes. I stop fighting and pull up my knees, planting the soles of my feet on the mattress. 

With a groan, he plunges in and begins plunging in and out. First off slowly then he increases the pace and power to a steady and hard rhythmic thrusting. Smack! Smack! Merges with the creaking bedsprings, each time his engorged balls smash against my unturned ass. I feel tiny electric pulses seizing my clitoris. I bite my lower lip trying to arrest the forbidden sensations slowly building up at the juncture of my legs. Dear God, what is happening?

I find myself groaning loudly and uncontrollably with each impaling thrust. I begin bucking my hips but this time in unison, allowing him greater access and penetration. His hands move under me, clamping my hips, squeezing and pulling my ass with cruel fingers toward him each time he punches into me. Suddenly my body responds with a will of its own. 

"Ohhh! Ohh! Ohhh," I moan.

He crushes his lips against mine, his tongue sliding past my lips to wrestle with my tongue. Bucking hips grind against me, hard, muscular thighs bruise me, the big bad dick twists and churns my pussy.

"Tight," he groans, grinding his pelvis against my loins. Snorts of heated air brush my ears and I hear his laboured breath in her ear, his heavy body crushes my tender breasts.

He pulls out his cock to the cap and drives it in again, harder. 

Hot breath escapes my lungs. I am conquered.

"You wanted this, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?" He fondles my nipples, twisting each in turn. I stay frozen, conquered. He starts thrusting harder and deeper. It feels like he is invading my belly. I pull my knees up. His cockhead brushes my pussy walls stimulating the nerves and making me more aware of how deep he sinks into me. The feeling of his weight on top of me, pressing me down deeper into the mattress. 

With each thrust, he sinks so deep, his muscular frame smashing down into my soft yielding flesh. It hurts, but it also feels good. And gets better with each stroke.

"Tight, sweet pussy." He withdraws his raging tool completely from me, drawing a moan of protest from me. He rears up and stares down at me. Smiling sadistically, he nonchalantly takes off his singlet. I lie silent, conquered. With a roar, he plunges back, loin slamming against loin. His penis buries itself back into my womb, drawing a squeal of protest from me. Or is that ecstasy. I no longer know. 

"Unnh.. Unnh.. Aahh.. Mmmm." I bleat. 

It triggers him and his violence increases. His pile-driver like strokes pound my loins, much faster and deeper than any man has before. The bedframe begins to groan in earnest.. 

"Filthy whore," he gasps between clenched teeth. 

"Yes." 

"You slut!" he snarls. "You need a big dick up your belly!" He seems to get bigger with each thrust. Harder, deeper. 

I feel waves rising in me. I cannot help it. He is raping me, yet I am enjoying it. My questing fingers clutch his broad back. I want more! 


Conquered!



"Ahh.. Uhhh.. Unnh!" I want more! "Oohh.. Ohhh.. Uhhh..Unnh.." 

His breath comes in hard gasps, but otherwise silent. 

"Ahh.. Ahh.. Ohhh.." I wrap my legs around him tightly. He pounds me with his cock. His huge cock. Harder, faster. 

"Ohhhhhhh.... Ahhhhhhhh," I am screaming. It feels so good.

His pulsating penis so hard. His balls smack against my wriggling bottom. He wraps his paws around my hips, his nails digging in, stilling my wriggle. 

"Do you like that?" he growls, pulling out.

"Uh-huhh," I moan, "I h-like it a h-lot. Hnnngh!!" He slams back into me, propelling my clamped ass into the mattress. 

He increases the rhythm and I keep pace, matching stroke for stroke. My stiffening body shudders as I relish my cunt clamping down on his dick. He pounds me even faster and deeper and the fever seizes me. 

"How's that feel baby...Hmmm...Feel good?" He mocks me. 

"Answer me bitch." He growls. Each time he pounds in his pulsating hardness, its head bangs up against my cervix. Digging his fingernails into my fleshy buttocks, he mauls my body with each savage jolting thrust.

Oh, he is so wicked! "Yes...Yes..It feels good..." I moan. My hands encircle his glistening back.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"N...NO!"

"That's a good girl."

"Bastard!!"

"Yes! Come for me you big-bottomed bitch!"

Tremors overtake me. 

He pulls up supporting his torso on outstretched arms. With renewed ferocity, he pummels his cock in and out of my vanquished pussy. My eyes shut tightly and then open them wide in shock as sensations overwhelm me. Shocks traverse my whole body as I shake like a log in a hurricane. My mouth hangs open and screams issue forth. I pulse and throb with the whirling sexual tornado as it blankets my whole body. 

I am becoming breathless. "Oh! Oh, my God!"

"Bitch!"

"Agh, it hurts!"

"You lying bitch."

"Take it out, you pig."

"I will do no such thing."

"OH! Don't do this."

"I must!" 

"You must stop, ohhhh."

"Bitch, you like it, don't you?"

"You shouldn't fuck me anymore. Agh! God, you're so big!"

I not so much cry out, as moan out my passion. "Oh shit. Yes, fuck me. Oh lord give it to me. It feels so strong. You are so hard. I'm going to come agh!"

"Who owns your little pussy now?" THE leering face asks. 

I look up at his body pistons up and down, moaning and groaning with each powerful stroke."You do. Oh fuck, you do!"

His gloating face looks like a demon's."Louder!" 

I no longer care. "Oh FUCK you dooo AGH!" My loins vibrate as if on their own accord. 

"You love it now don't you?"

"Oh yes! Your cock feels good in me."

"Tell me how much you like this big dick in your pussy?" Ben began to fuck her faster and a little harder.

"AH AH GOD. I love your big cock in me!" I hate myself, but the words keep tumbling out of my mouth. 

"Yes bitch!" 

"Oh FUCK ME eeeeeeee!"

Closing my eyes, feeling my tongue fencing with his, feeling his teeth, the roof of his mouth savouring the taste of whiskey in his mouth. Abruptly, I hoist my knees, wrapping my legs around my ravisher's heaving buttocks. Moments before the cords in my neck and thighs stand out hard and tense during our rumble; they still stand out, but now from ecstasy as I writhe beneath him in the feverish wantonness.

The eruption starts from deep inside my vagina sweeping through my whole body. His clenching fingers dig into my quivering buttocks. My pussy spasms, pulling at the invading cock. The ache within me swells, becoming uncontrollable. My back arches sharply as tremors overtake me. He keeps pounding as I crest the wave of climax. For a whole minute, it seems I am lost in ecstasy.

As the shudders leave me, I open my eyes. Above me, my assaulter's eyes roll about, tongue hanging from an open mouth. My gasps and his grunts mix and match in ecstatic unison with each stabbing thrust of his rutting cock. My head rocks from side to side. Occasionally I look down between us at my rutting, quaking body as his prick drives in and out. My breasts bob up and down in time with our heaving hips, my nipples feel like spikes jutting up from the pink aureoles and my knees hang high, parts widely on either side of him. His skin glistens with sweat, matting his hair. 

His mouth starts to run, vomiting obscenities.

"OH FUCK YOU. YOU'RE SO TIGHT."

"Fuck you, you bastard!" 

"THAT'S IT, THAT'S IT I AM FUCKING YOU AT LAST!"

"OH GOD!" 

"WORK IT, WITH THAT SWEET ASS OF YOURS."

"NO! YES! YOU BASTARD!"

"SHIT, HERE IT COMES, HERE IT COMES BABY." 

"OH FUCK!" I pant. I grab his undulating buttocks and squeeze them as he thrusts back and forth until he stops pounding and starts to jerk. 

"YES, THAT'S IT, THAT'S IT, SQUEEZE IT...AGGGHHHHHHHHH."

"AGH!!" My mouth fly open as a second orgasmic wave consumes me, a sweeter and less intense glow that lingers. 

He screams, filling my ears as the shock of his imminent release engulfs him. "TAKE IT, TAKE IT ALL!! AGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH "...

The first charge of ripe seed floods my welcoming womb. My pussy contracts and expands, milking the rest of his seed from him. I feel each squirt like a jet of hot water. "Oh YES! LET IT ALL OUT!"

Shot after shot sperm spurts out of his rutting cock, flooding me with string after string of hot liquid. "AGGHHHHHHH " He grunts with each shot.

... SQUIRT, SQUIRT...

"AGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH "...

SQUIRT. 

His screams descend to shrieking as his balls empties. With a moan, he collapses onto my yielding breasts. Our heavy breathing rents the air. His hands reach out and clasp mine. Fingers intertwine and we grip each other. That's the first consummation with my future husband!! Your body conquers me but I entice you and you know I know. So while your hard muscles mould my soft curves and crush my flesh under yours, it's not a battle of bodies but of minds. You subdue my body but I want your mind. He conquers me that day but from then on, I plot his conquest. Two years later, we marry.



Conquered by a Viking



This is a true story as sent to me in a reader's email and phone call.

I've lived with this for 63 years, long enough that now I don't give a damn. I'll tell the story. Have to let it out.

Back in 1944 a special operations team flew from England to Norway to blow up a super-secret Nazi heavy-water facility. The plant had avoided detection in a mountain above the Arctic Circle near Narvik, close to the Swedish border, but Norwegian Resistance tipped off Allied intelligence, and I came into the game. Lieutenant Payne and I were a specialized two-man demolition team. Lt. Payne knew German, Norwegian, Swedish, and infantry weapons. I specialized in blowing up things.

We parachuted into the area at night, where Norwegian Resistance fighters waited. We buried the parachutes and headed off to the target, and once there I saw how the place went unobserved for so long. Could hardly see it. Nothing there. Just a rounded hill of snow. Nothing but a few tire tracks. 

Closer, I saw the entrance -- under a long overhang caked with snow -- invisible from above. Only Norwegians on the ground happened to spot it. 

One of the Norwegian Resistance, a geologist from Oslo University, gave us the key to it: the overhang, a huge granite slab, was very unstable. With a simple nudge from explosives, it could slide further down the hill, starting a larger landslide. Lt. Payne and I had chemicals in our backpacks that could blow a battleship off the mountain.

While we watched from the trees, a figure walked out of the plant's opening. He wore white Germany Army arctic fatigues and a white helmet. He hung back in the shadows and lit a cigarette. A moment later another man in white walked up behind him. The second man reached down to the other's crotch and squeezed. "Hans, mein Schwanz ist hart für dich!"

I looked at Lt. Payne. "Says his cock is hard for him," he whispered.

God, the world is full of queers! "Fucking queers!" I hissed back. "Nothing worse than a fucking Nazi faggot."

In those days, in looks I wasn't what you'd call handsome, but I was strong and could get the job done. I was a big guy, plenty of muscles. I stood 6'4" in my stocking feet and on the scales around 250 pounds. 

And I was straight. Damned straight. I loved pussy and got some whenever I could.

As I think back over what I'm about to tell you now, I know how it happened. It wasn't all my fault, not all of it. Things ganged up on me. Memories. My childhood. Dreams I had. 

Like my very first wet dream -- I was what, seven, eight? I can remember that dream clearly, one of those that stick with you when you wake up. 

I dreamed I was running through a woods, sprinting for my life ahead of a raging, snarling bear! I felt his hot breath on my back -- and I realized I was naked! My pajamas were gone! Running in bare feet over the rough, rocky ground, I could not go fast enough. The bear got closer and closer.

Finally I ran out of the woods into a clearing, and in the distance I saw a huge castle. Gigantic. So big it faded into the distance. A big lake on one side, and a dense forest on the other. High gray stone walls with turrets, and windows all over, glittering yellow and gold in the dim light of sunset.

I ran as fast as I could, but the bear almost grabbed me! I was crying and could hardly see through the tears, but suddenly a Prince appeared in the path ahead of me! 

He wore a mottled green and brown robe, but the robe was open, and under it he was naked like me. He raised one hand in a "stop" gesture. I looked over my shoulder as I ran, and I saw the bear stumble to a halt, turn around, and walk away!

Relieved and grateful -- my life was saved -- I ran to the prince to hug him, but he was a big, tall man, and when I reached him and threw my arms around him, my arms went around his hips and his buttocks -- and I was running so fast, my face mashed against his huge pecker (that's what my father called it). 

My face pressed into his huge pecker!

At that instant I had the first orgasm of my life, a pleasure so intense, it woke me up! I threw back the covers and yanked down my pajamas -- my still-glowing pecker was hard and thrilling to the touch! Gee whiz, what's happening?? Later, of course, once I knew my pecker could do such things, like all boys I began to experiment until I finally discovered jacking off. 

I grew up normally. I liked girls. I liked to play Doctor, Post Office, and I'll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours. Never paid one second of attention to other boys. I liked the girls. 

When I grew older, I joined the Army. And I hated queers. If I caught two men in homo activities, I reported them immediately. Get all the cocksuckers and other deviants out of the Army!

Many times I sat in the enlisted men's club with a few of my friends, drinking beer and talking about the Army, and when the subject of queers in the military came up, we all sounded off on how they were tearing the country apart. "Limp-wristed little fairies, all of 'em!" "Simpering fags got no place in the Army!" 

Pvt. Blackwelder, a weasel I didn't really like, sneered, "I spotted a man in the latrine the other day -- wore pink underwear!"

"No!"

"God's truth!"

"Couldn't it have been white Army boxers accidentally washed with something red?"

"Could've been, but I'd toss them out before I'd wear pink underwear!"

Everybody gave out with "Yeah, yeah." Blackwelder went on to say that queers go around causing other queers. 

"Causing other queers? What does that mean?"

He put down his beer and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Don't you know, man? Once a male gets his cock through your asshole, you're fucked! And you can never go back! You turn into a queer. You're hot for it from then on!"

"No! That's bullshit!"

"God's truth. Heard it from the medical officer."

I sat back and took a swallow of beer. That was dangerous news. Not that I was worried -- for one thing, I was straight. For another, I would kill any man who tried to stick his cock in my ass. But in a way, it was scary. Like an exposed jugular vein I didn't know I had. "What if it's, like, an accident -- a guy stumbles in the showers and falls up against you, and . . . you know."

Everybody turned to look at me. "Anybody ever stumbled up against me in the showers, and I felt his cock at my ass, I would break his neck," said one. "Anybody in the showers with a hardon in the first place should be turned over to the MPs," said another.

"But what if you, like, sit on a pencil or something?"

Blackwelder laughed. "No, stupid, it has to be a queer. If you get a queer's cock in your ass, you become a queer. Scientific fact."

The conversation went on to other things, and I relaxed. All that talk about queers was embarrassing, especially since I was so ignorant. We broke up an hour or so later and went back to our quarters, but I couldn't stop thinking about it: "A cock through your asshole turns you queer." 

In my bunk I pulled down my boxers. I had a prong I was proud of in the showers. Seven inches soft, bumpy with veins and textures, ending in a foreskin that covered the cockhead and ended in a heathen tassel of loose skin at the end -- like those on naked soldiers on Greek pottery in history books.

I gripped it and began a jackoff session. Then I started wondering. With my cock hard and happy, I reached between my legs with my free hand and stuck a finger up my ass.

Yeowtch!! Fuck, that hurts!!

And I was glad. No way will I ever crave anybody sticking anything up there. I had prostate exams from medical officers once or twice, and they always used rubber gloves with plenty of lubricant, and even those hurt. 

That was a relief. No way can I become a queer. That once-you're-fucked threat was pure bullshit.

The very next day they shipped me off to England for training on a special, secret team. One ride on a troopship later, I was in England meeting Lt. Payne and studying Norwegian maps. Two weeks after that I was watching two enemy queers playing with each other in Norway. I spat into the snow, and Lt. Payne shushed me.

Lieutenant Payne was okay. Shorter. Not as muscular. But with a Springfield he could hit a quarter tossed in the air from 50 paces away. A little on the pushy side, maybe, but that was just being an officer.

When the two German funny-boys went back inside, Payne and I slipped out of the darkness. The Resistance had reconnoitered the area and told us "No sentries" -- the Germans wanted nothing external to give away the super-secret location. 

It was almost too easy. We planted the charges from our backpacks at a "fulcrum-point" the professor had described, set the timer, and scurried back into the woods. I blew on my hands to warm them up, shivering in my jacket. The Arctic Circle was damned cold.

To get out of the path of the landslide, we had to climb above the explosion and across the mountainside. We scurried through the woods, praying none of us stumbled or fell. About the time we broke out of the woods into a clearing above and away from the slide area, a huge, fiery explosion shook the earth and lit up the mountainside like noonday. 

With a roar like 100 thunders, the huge granite slab above the plant detached from the mountain and slid down the hillside, crushing the structure -- and the queers -- under it, tearing loose huge trees and boulders with it. And higher above, a larger section of the mountainside cracked loose almost as if unzipped, and a titanic mass slid violently into the valley.

Then we spotted a German Army truck traveling up the road to the plant, at a point below us and safely out of the landslide area. And they saw us. 

While clouds of dirt and dust rose in the sky, German soldiers poured out of the truck and began firing up at us, and we were sitting ducks in the white snow of the clearing! Luckily we were too far above them for accurate aim, and when the light of the fire and explosion finally went out, in the blessed darkness, we climbed like madmen to reach the trees at the far side of the clearing. "They come after us now," muttered one of the resistance fighters. 

We climbed to the ridge of the mountain. "This now changes things," said one of the Norwegians. "We must get back to our homes, but it is easier that you to go here into Sverige, ja?" According to the map, we had climbed a mountain pass in the Scandinavian Mountains, and going down the far side would take us across the frontier into neutral Sweden, somewhere near Kiruna.

Gunshots rang out behind us, and bullets ricocheted from stones. "Det Tyskeren er her over!" the Norwegians gasped, -- The Germans are here! -- and they melted away into the woods.

Lt. Payne and I ran down into the valley, ducking behind boulders and hillocks, hearing the sound of shouted German commands behind us. After we ran a mile or so down the mountainside, dawn began to light the sky, and we saw the terrain level out into a wooded plateau. Every so often rifle shots sounded behind us, and bullets zipped through the trees. "The bastards have followed us into Swedish territory," Payne gasped as we ran.

Then we hit a very serious problem: the woods ended. Nothing ahead but a vast, open, rolling field of snow. No trees. No shelter. And the Germans were right behind us.

At the far side of the field, a huge, gray castle spread over many acres. Vast stone walls spread across hills and valleys, fronting on one side a frozen, snow-covered lake and on the other a dark forest that continued past the horizon. Round turrets accented the wall at strategic corners, and windows all over glittered yellow and gold in the dim light of dawn.

Beyond the walls, the main buildings of the castle rose high into the sky. Steep, gray-slate roofs. The giant castle was a fortified city.

And strangely familiar. I had never been in Sweden, but the castle was not strange. I knew it. Probably saw it in a picture book. Like recognizing the Eiffel Tower on your first trip to Paris. 

As we crouched at the edge of the woods, planning what to do, an armored half-track with skis under the front wheels came over the hill, and a heavy machine-gun in it fired over us into the woods beyond. I heard shouting behind us and then silence. When the armored car stopped firing, there was dead quiet. No more German gunfire.

A porthole in the half-track opened, and a hand stuck out, motioning in the universal "come closer" gesture. Payne and I looked at each other. The emblem on the machine was a gold cross on a blue background -- the Swedish flag. Payne shrugged his shoulders, and we crept out of the thicket and ran across the snow toward the armored car. A shot rang out behind us, and a bullet sputtered the snow near Payne's boot. Immediately the big machine-gun roared again, sending tracers overhead, raking the wood line behind us.

We reached the half-track and scrambled through an open door in the back. A deep voice barked out of the darkness: "Och vem er du?" -- who are you?

Lt. Payne answered. "Vi er Amerikaner medborgarskap" -- We are American citizens.

"Ja, I am hearing about 'American citizens' running down the mountain from Norge. And running after is Tysken soldat -- the German soldiers, nej?" The man had such a deep, bass voice, I could almost imagine a troll growling at us from the blackness inside the truck. "You wear the Amerikaner uniform. What do you in Sverige?"

We said nothing.

"No matter. We go now back to the slot -- the castle, nej?"

As our eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the armored car, the speaker emerged as a big man in the bullet-shaped helmet and green uniform of the Swedish Army. He identified himself as Alfhild Drakeskóld.

"Interesting name," said Lt. Payne. Attempt at friendly conversation. 

"Very old name. First name 'Alfhild' is means 'elf battle.' Centuries ago. Family name even older. 'Drakeskóld' is 'Dragonshield.' We go now to Slottet Drakeskóld. Family castle."

God, he's the baron or whatever!

The half-track motored over the snowdrifts until we reached the castle gate. Past the outer wall, it stopped at a huge staircase leading up to the doors of the main building. Attendants waited for us as we climbed out, and when he stepped down, Drakeskóld barked orders. Then he turned to us. "Välkomnande till Slottet Drakeskóld. You now our guests. Please to follow these people. They will take care of you."

Smiling people led us into the building, and I was astounded. What a building! Strength. Endurance. Granite walls over six feet thick. Even the stained-glass windows had heavy, thick panes, not like the thin, delicate things in antique shops. 

Woodcarving everywhere. Ornate stone sculptures all around. Ancient age. Immense wealth -- huge tapestries over the walls, carved-oak chairs, a gigantic grandfather clock in an oak cabinet two stories high. We gaped.

The fireplaces had very small fires -- a cool breeze made me zip up my coat again. The people around us, though, wore short sleeves, and I saw one woman in bare feet. Above the Arctic Circle, wintertime was a way of life. Only the strong endured. The people and the buildings were used to a hard life.

They led us down a long hallway with suits of armor standing in alcoves every dozen feet or so. Fascinating stuff. Each suit from a different age -- or a different battle. Some blackened battle veterans. Some silver with gold trimmings.

I always wondered how a suit of armor protected the crotch. School textbooks always showed just a little kilt of chain-mail, but these iron suits featured cock-guards that made me stare. Huge! Giant things as big as the warhead of an artillery round! The cock that fits that would be long as a salami and thick as an arm! I gulped. Can that be true?

The Hall of the Giant Cocks led to a vast hall where the ceiling had to be three stories high. Carved granite columns disappeared into the darkness above, and three long banquet tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other, probably 20 yards. At each place at the tables -- must have been hundreds -- a huge, high-backed chair of carved hardwood waited for the diners. They sat us at the end of one of the tables and brought out plates and goblets. Gold-colored metal. 

I turned to Payne. "Jeez, do you think this is--" 

--"I bet it is."

God, solid gold plates! They brought out food, and after a couple bites of the meat -- venison! Delicious! With a mushroom sauce. 

As we ate, I looked at the carvings on the chair next to me. A dragon snaked around the heavy oak frame, around warriors in battle with monstrous characters, and all were nude. Cocks and balls carefully carved into the wood. Female figures, too, wound throughout the carvings. Not as many. One or two.

They served us a golden liquid. Beer. Traditional Scandinavian drink. 

But what beer! I took a big gulp, and it burned going down, but it hit my belly like a lightning bolt! I looked at Payne, who looked back as he set down his goblet. "God, this is either the strongest beer I ever tasted, or they have funny-tasting vodka!"

We had nothing else to drink, and we were thirsty. 

By the end of the meal, I was drunk out of my mind. When the serving girls came in to take away the plates, I grabbed one of them and pulled her onto my lap. When I kissed her, I expected her to struggle, but she didn't. She returned the kiss. Well, all right!

I glanced over, and Lt. Payne, drunk too, had a girl in his arms, also in a passionate kiss. My thinking was getting fuzzy: We're fuckin' up! But I was too drunk to care. 

Two more women sat in the chairs on either side of me, and both started kissing me. In Soldier Heaven, I turned from one babe to the other, kissing each with good old American skill. The Swedish women were hot, soon smooching me into a near-swoon of kissing, fondling, and lust. 

Sometimes I would feel one woman get up and her place taken by another before I turned back to kiss her. Americans must be a rare treat up her. C'mon, girls, get your kisses while you can!

One of the women, though, gave me a kiss that curled my hair. A powerful kiss, meaningful, all-out! It spread trails of fire over my face. God, what a babe! She stuck her tongue into my mouth, and I dueled with it. Damn, she's hot! Never kissed such a horny bitch! She really had me going!

About then her hand groped in my crotch, driving me crazy! She unzipped me, pulled out my throbbing cock, and started jacking me off under the table! I couldn't believe it!

She really knew how to do it and had me roaring toward an orgasm in no time. A Swedish barracks whore? Right there in the great hall, she had me stiffened out in my chair, my legs spread and tensed under the table as she jacked me past the point of no return. 

Still in that fiery kiss and about to climax, I reached between her legs, felt her thigh, and moved up to her crotch. By then I was panting so hard I had to break the kiss to get some oxygen! As I moved my mouth away, my chin rubbed against hers, and her skin was scratchy -- beard stubble! At that instant, my hand reached her crotch -- the bulge of a cock!!

A man! I'm kissing a man!!

But it was too late! My orgasm swept over me, and helpless, quivering, shuddering in my big wooden chair, my jizz spouted out in hard, violent spurts. The very idea of such an evil, perverted, taboo situation fried my brain, the orgasm a real scorcher.

When I finally came to, I looked over at "her." Seated beside me was Drakeskóld! And he was smiling. He brought his hand up from under the table, and big gobs of white sperm covered his knuckles and ran down his fingers. Still smiling, he stuck out his tongue and licked it up.




Conquered by a Viking



"What in hell are you doing?" I gasped, but I knew I was dead in the water. This man had just given me the hottest kiss I ever had, he jacked me off, and I came for him.

He looked into my eyes. "Did you like it? You tell the truth now." I could feel the vibrations from that deep voice clear down to my balls.

"No, goddamn it! You surprised me!"

Still he smiled. "Tell the truth. You know the truth. Say it."

He had me. My jizz dripped from his hand, and I could still taste his kiss. "Yeah. I liked it." My voice was a whisper.

With that, he pulled me to him and brought his face close to mine, going for me again. 

"No, goddamn it, I'm straight!" But the words were a squeak, and his lips were close. He pressed them against mine gently. An invitation.

I gave in. I opened my mouth, and again our tongues rubbed each other. I can't believe this! I'm kissing a MAN! 

But what a kisser that guy was! I bet he fucks every woman he kisses.

And that thought hit me like a bowling ball. No! This is just fooling around! I'm straight!! Blackwelder's words echoed in my head: "A cock through your asshole turns you queer." This is just a kiss! His cock is not going into my asshole!

But I couldn't break that kiss. He was communicating to me. Man to man. Male to male. Without words. Just feelings. Just the pure electricity of lust between us. The glory of male conquest. We understood each other. 

Something more: he knew me -- better than I knew myself, and suddenly I was uneasy, at a disadvantage. He was holding and kissing me, and I was letting him. Not the other way around. I was surrendering; he was conquering. 

Finally he released me -- his lips moved away from mine, and I opened my eyes. He stood up, took my hand, and pulled me out of my chair. 

I looked him over. Up close, Drakeskóld was a giant -- muscular, broad-shouldered, and masculine. I'm 6'4", so he stood at least 6'6". The green fatigues made him look like a warrior-hero.

Thick blond hair. Piercing blue eyes under bushy yellow eyebrows. Square jaw with a golden five o'clock shadow (that scratched my chin in the kiss). Handsome face. A real nobleman.

He was familiar somehow, and that didn't make sense. Before the war, I had never been out of Ohio. It was eerie. I couldn't place him, but that face was familiar!

Probably nothing. Looks like somebody else. Like a picture I saw in a book, some foreign general in England. 

"Now I take you to clean up. We go to the sauna."

I wanted to say something about the kiss. That I was sorry. That I was surprised. That it "wasn't our way." Something like that. What came out was, "Aren't you supposed to shower before you go in the sauna?"

He motioned for me to follow him down another hall. "First the good smells. Then the wash-off. Gå med på jag -- Come with me." 

I left Lt. Payne still dallying with serving girls and followed Drakeskóld down another hallway of silver, gold, black, and brass suits of armor. More huge cock-covers. I slowed to stare at one, and Drakeskóld chuckled. "You like the big järnsuspensoar, the big -- how you say, "iron jockstrap"? I think in English is a 'codpiece,' nej?"

He smiled and added, "For the big man."

I wished I wasn't drunk. Things were unravelling.

After a long trek, Drakeskóld opened a door, and we entered what looked like a locker room with no lockers. A long bench went the length of the room, but the walls held only several dozen pegs, and on a few of them hung men's clothing. "Here we take off the clothes."

This isn't what I want right now. I'm too drunk, too horny, and things are slipping out of control. But Drakeskóld stood looking at me. Nervous, I unbuckled my belt. "You're not going to join me?"

"I come soon." Still he stood watching, and I felt sheepish. Shy. Like a little boy forced to pull down his pants before being switched by the school principal. 

And that pissed me off. Why in hell do I feel like this? I'm not a little boy, I'm a MAN!

But my face hot with embarrassment, I pulled off my boots and shucked down my pants. When I hung my shirt on the peg, I stood before him in my white Army boxers, and alarm bells sounded in my head. With your clothes off, how much more helpless can you get?

Hey, stark naked I can still kick the ass of anybody who comes after me!

Drakeskóld looked at me without expression. "Also the underkläder." I must have looked desperate because he tossed me a small towel. When I stripped down completely naked -- Damn! -- my traitorous pecker was in full, cold-weather Retract about two inches long. I hurriedly wrapped the towel around my hips.

He led me to another door -- and the most fabulous sauna bath I had ever seen. Huge. A room big as my house. Two walls entirely of glass, and a gorgeous view beyond -- a snow-covered courtyard about the size of a baseball diamond, the high castle wall, and the mountains in the distance. Wooden benches of smooth hardwood slats lined two walls in three tiers. Everything deeply carved in Nordic, Viking themes except the smooth seats of the benches.

In the center of the room a brick charcoal-furnace radiated the heat. As I walked in, a man lifted a dipper from a bucket near it and poured something -- birch-water, I figured -- onto the furnace, making a fragrant cloud of steam.

A dozen men sat on the benches. Big men. Some taller, some shorter than I, but all very powerful, heavily muscled. All blond. All hairy. 

Hairy chests everywhere. Hairy arms. Hairy legs. I'm not the hairy type -- I'm smooth -- and I felt even more naked among all that golden fur. 

Also the only one with a towel around the waist -- but I had just shown a two-incher in the changing room, and every man in the sauna could out-cock me even if I were full-hard! Every cock I glanced at was soft, but every single one was a thick snake that sagged between the man's legs for a good seven to nine inches! No way was that towel coming off my hips.

I moved to take a seat on the nearest bench in strategic retreat. Again I felt like a little boy. How in hell can that be? I'm 6'4", 250 pounds, and I can kick anybody's ass!

Then show them your cock.

Yeah. Right.

I sat dutifully on the bench, wishing I were somewhere else, wondering how long I had to stay -- how soon I could leave without being rude. I remembered that Drakeskóld said he "would come soon." Damn. I have to wait for him.

No one said anything to me. No one even looked at me. Huge men. A Viking football team!

After about 10 minutes, Drakeskóld walked in wearing a light, gauzy dressing gown -- colored mottled green and brown. 

I gasped. The prince!!

He was not naked. He wore a small towel like mine around his hips. He walked past me and lay back on the wooden bench. 

Huge, broad shoulders glistening with sweat, shiny like pale patent leather. Viking chest, jutting pecs like the turrets of the castle. Gigantic nipples in dark circles maybe four inches across, sticking out like hard raisins. I shook my head. Damn these thoughts! Stop looking!

Drops of his sweat hung and dribbled through the dense mat of coarse gold over his great body. I licked my lips. Could not tear my eyes away. And as I looked, he moved his wrist slightly, and the towel slipped from his hips. 

Oh . . . my . . . God! 

A dragon! 

I swear to god it looked like a big, medieval battering-ram with a carved, dragon-headed tip. God, what a cock! I couldn't believe it. His cockhead actually had spikes jutting out from the edges, making a flaring, jagged carapace like a dinosaur, and the head had grooves and lines sculpting it into the snout of a reptile. 

Once I could think clearly, I realized it was a masterpiece of piercing and self-mutilation. Incredible. The biggest cock I ever saw. Has to be three inches across! Gripping it with both hands would still leave space above and below! Gnarly and bumpy with veins and tubes, it looked like a carved oak branch with Nordic runes tattooed all over it. And that unbelievable dragon's head. 

He saw me staring and sat up. He smiled. "A tradition in my family for centuries. The family name, Drakeskóld, means 'Dragonshield.'" He reached down to it. "They did this on my 18th birthday. When I become a man." 

He fingered the jutting points around the edge of his cockhead. "Small chips of granite from the castle. Boiled for three days. They insert under the skin." He gave me a wry expression. "It hurt, I tell you. But I don't feel them anymore." He touched the bumps forming the dragon's eyes and the sculpted snout. "Cuts they make with a 900-year-old dagger. That hurt even worse. I bled for days. A long time ago, nej?"

I realized my mouth hung open, and I shut it with a snap. His mouth turned up in a little smile. "You like what you see?"

"Never seen anything like it."

He stood up and walked toward me, bringing the incredible thing closer. "You like to touch it?" His voice was like pulling a black velvet cloth across the strings of a cello.

I could smell him. Sweat. Dirt. Gunpowder. Leather. And something else, something deeper, more powerful -- his musk. The scent of male. Couldn't describe it all -- crotch odor, the smell of his scrotum, heady aroma of sperm, other intoxicating fumes. The indescribable smells more powerful than the ones I recognized. 

Breathing harder, aroused, my mind buzzed: What in hell is going on? Why am I so hot? I haven't done anything yet!  The word echoed in my head: "yet."  

Now wait a minute! That is a man's cock! I am not going to touch another man's cock! 

But I'm in a foreign country, and they have strange, foreign ways. I'm a guest in his castle. The other men aren't looking. In fact, they had been slowly leaving the sauna.

And after all, that cock is a strange, wondrous thing. It's not sexual if I just touch it. Still I knew I shouldn't, and I fought against it -- Yeah, right. You're fighting like a butterfly! 

Only about four men still remained in the sauna. I took a breath and reached out. Incredible. The spikes of the carapace were hard, like bone. The brows over the eyes were hard and leathery. 

Drakeskóld placed his hand over mine and pulled it down over his cockshaft, where he squeezed it to make me grip. Damn! Gripping a steam-pipe! It burned my hand! 

His fist still over mine, he moved it up and down -- hey, wait a minute, no way am I going to jack him off! -- and as I did, it swelled into a full hardon. The dragon cockhead flared huge, red, and glowing, the spikes of its carapace erect, jutting out into the air.

"My god." I didn't really mean to say that; it just slipped out.

He chuckled. "A sight in the castle tour I do not get to show very often, nej?"

He released my hand, and I let go. That thing is a bar of molten iron! How can human skin get so hot? I expected to see blisters in my palm, but it looked perfectly normal and healthy: the heat was all in my head. Imagination. Horniness. 

Damn, this is scary! What is he doing with my mind?? A glance down showed the towel over my hips jutting out in a tent, and I could hardly catch my breath. How fucking embarrassing!

"Ja, I see you have something to show, too. You let us see, nej?" Before I could stop him, Drakeskóld gripped my towel and pulled it away.

Oh, fuck! Full-on, rock-hard, standing-up erection. My face burned hot as I looked up with a stupid grin. His face was serious. "Ja, this is a good one," and his words cut through my embarrassment, making me oddly proud. 

He reached down and grabbed me. Oh, shit, now wait a minute! That is sexual! His hand around my cock was an iron glove from a suit of armor, red-hot from a blacksmith's forge. A thrilling sensation. Lighting a fuse. I looked around the room to see what the others thought, but we were alone.

He began to stroke me, and when his other hand groped my balls, bobbling them between his fingers, I couldn't stop myself -- my head rolled back, I clenched my eyes shut, and I came! "Agh! God!" A big jet of semen spurted out, falling back over his hand.

"Kát pojke! A -- how you say -- horny boy! So soon with the sperma over my hand."

Damn! The heat of the sauna and the fire of his hand while I stared at his supernatural cock shot me into a climax that left me weak, panting as if I'd run around the castle wall. As I looked up at him, he slowly raised his hand to his mouth and again slurped my jizz from his knuckles.

He moved still closer, and the dragonhead flared angrily, closer to my face. On the attack. With a sudden lurch, he jerked his hips toward me, and the giant cock mashed into my face!

Mashed into my face. My face pressed into his huge pecker!

Don't know what happened. Flashes of dreams flickered in my head, and something triggered. Out of control, I had another orgasm! My cock sputtered out still more white lines of jizz, and in the fever of the climax, my body disobeyed my will: my mouth opened over the big thing, and I sucked it in. The knobs of the carapace scraped over my teeth as they passed by. 

It hit me: I'm a cocksucker. My head in another man's crotch, his cock in my drooling mouth, there was no denying it. 

What the hell, I might as well enjoy it. 

So I did. I inhaled deep. He was right: first the good smells. His scent gave me a rush, spreading fire across my face. 

No way could I get the dragon's head down my throat, but I slathered my tongue over and around it while I jacked him off -- with both hands. Incredible. Historical. Like sucking an ancient cock. The smell of sperm from a bloodline a thousand years old! Instead of ashamed, I felt . . . honored! 

I knew humiliation would come later, when I sobered up. But for the moment I was in an older, more primitive world.

"Suga jag!" His voice low and lusty. "Suck me." He ran his fingers through my hair. "My Amerikanen hyndan." 

I wondered what a hyndan was, but about then his cock swelled to what felt like a church-steeple in my mouth, and his heels dug into the floor. A big gush of jizz flooded my mouth and spurted from the sides. I gulped and swallowed, but for as much as I got down, huge waves of the sticky, white slime pulsed out over my chin and splashed down to my lap. Incredible! Horses don't come this much!

Something else: the powerful stuff seared my taste buds. Overwhelming! A burning, meaty, profoundly male flavor -- the taste of raw meat, strong beer, musk-ox balls, and physical combat! Jesus Christ! Is this what sperm tastes like?? The heady tang of his cum drove me into still another orgasm! I flailed helplessly in ecstasy without even touching myself! I strained to understand but could not grasp how I had climaxed four times in less than a half-hour! 

Powers beyond my understanding! Out of my control! I was scared. What in hell is happening?

When he surged his last gob of cum down my throat, he pulled back that wonderful cock, leaving me in a warm afterglow. He looked down at me like a cowboy who just broke a pony. "Ach, ja, du er min hyndan."

What does that mean? Still, he's smiling, so it must be good. I wiped his jizz from my chin, and like he had done with mine, I slurped his sperm from my knuckles. 

With that, he brought his face down to mine and kissed me, and what a kiss! We connected at the mouth, welded together like steel statues, like warships docking with steel clamps, and as our mouths fused together, I felt his soul, his mind, his body. He was a MAN! A stallion more powerful than anyone I ever knew. A male with centuries of command, conquest, raids, and slaughter inside him, a bull whose ancient balls had impregnated whole continents!

The kiss powered out the worries and doubts in my brain. My out-of-control orgasms bothered me. His lips on mine made me understand my body could respond to his remote-control. 

Submitting to him bothered me. His kiss forced me to admit: it was okay! Every bolt must have a nut. Every nail must punch a hole. Some men are nails; some are holes. 

The great discovery -- which capsized me -- was that holes get more pleasure than the nails! Drakenskóld's cock reaming my ass brought me unthinkable pleasure through my asshole and on the other side of my crotch, his fucking also pleasured my cock! 

Oh, my god. I am a hole! He was the kisser, and I was the kissee, so it seemed natural for him to lower me back to lie on the bench, still locked against his mouth as he positioned his body over me. 

What have I gotten myself into? When he broke the kiss and pulled back to look down on me, again I felt inferior -- like a peasant, a serf. He was a grown man, a baron! A war-chief! A taker of slaves! I was just some kid from Ohio.

When he reached down and grasped my thighs, spreading my legs and raising them, it seemed natural, taking what was his by right of conquest. At first I did not resist, lying on my back, feet in the air, my asshole open to all the world. 

Then it hit me, and words from the past screamed in my brain: Once a male gets his cock through your asshole, you're fucked! And you can never go back! You turn into a queer. You're hot for it from then on!

"NO! I ain't no queer!" I shoved him away and wrenched to the side, falling off the bench onto the sauna floor. He grabbed my arms, but I slipped out and struggled to my knees, getting a grip around his waist. He threw himself against me, forcing me back, and as I lost balance, I gripped harder. As he fell over me, I found myself once again with his huge cock at my face. 

He tried to wrap his legs around me, but I reached down to seize them. I slipped, and his throbbing cock mashed against my face. Oh, no!

My face pressed against the huge pecker!

Even as I struggled against him, I felt my balls go into an orgasm, and under its control, I loosened my grip on him, opened my mouth, and sucked his demonic cockhead again. I looked up, and the bastard smiled as his body took over mine. 

The male power in that mighty cock sent vibrations through me, electrocuting my brain, almost buzzing in my mouth with power. The message sank into my bones: It is my duty to suck his cock, to spread my legs for him, to let him do his will on me!

Almost as if watching myself in a movie, I saw him kneel over my face as I lay on the floor, lurching his hips, fucking my face. My hands slowly released my grip on him, and he reached back to pull my legs up behind him, doubling me up until my ass was in the air, still lunging that magnificent thing in and out. I was powerless, his remote-control toy.

With a sudden movement, he yanked his cock out of my mouth, jumped away, and rolled my legs over my head, looping me into a donut with my feet almost touching the floor. My hard dong aimed down at my mouth.

I couldn't believe what he had done to me -- God, I can suck my own cock! My asshole aimed at the sky, open for his pleasure. He's got me. Beat me in a fair fight. Out-maled me. I opened my mouth and sucked my own cock, licking at my own drool of pre-cum.

I was conquered. He's got me cocksucking myself! He's the man.  His legs straddled my shoulders, and his hips lowered till his balls dangled above my face. I shivered when his cockhead swiped up and down my ass-crack. Damn him, he's teasing me. Tantalizing. 

I had to admit it: I wanted his cock inside me. I wanted him to take me. But he tortured me. Tickling my winking, clenching asshole. Titillating. Reducing me to a panting, broken, softened piece of meat open, eager, anxious for him to do whatever he wanted with me. "C'mon! Do it!" The hoarse gasp of a slave staring up at his master's balls.




Conquered by a Viking



He reached over, pulled a bottle from under the bench, squeezed out something into his hand, and swiped it over my asshole. Lube! "Yes!! Yes, do it! Lube me up!" Panting so hard, I could hardly talk. "Stick that big thing in me! Take me!! Do it! FUCK ME!!"

Drakeskóld was powerful, in command, and I was helpless. And knowing that made me hot, insane, mindless with lust. As he stood over my pretzeled body, sliding his fabulous prick up and down my aching, craving bum, I lost any shred of competition, any hope of winning -- and something inside me snapped.

I was his servant, his body-slave, his worshipper. 

"Please, please! Take me! I've got to have it! Use me!!" Desperate, I slid my hips after his lazily wandering cock, trying to lurch against it -- and finally I succeeded. I lodged my asshole against the dragon's head, and he pressed it against me, lowering himself onto my doubled-up body. 

But a mortar shell went off in my ass, and I screamed! Folded over, all the muscles of my body were taut, unaccustomed to the strange position, and I hurt all over. My body was in agony.

But my poor, stretched asshole was ON FIRE! He's cramming a pineapple down my ass! Tears ran down my cheeks, and both hands clawed helplessly at the floor. I screamed in agony! A giant bayonet stabbed down into my ass!

It felt like hours. I had long since decided hell, no, I don't want his cock in me, the deal is off, no way am I interested in a man's cock in my ass. But he had me abso-fucking-lutely helpless. 

The big Viking had me in the one position no man should get into. My own cock, shriveled with the pain, dangled pitifully against my mouth, my feet bounced against the floor past my head, my arms lay powerless against the floor, and my asshole was at the mercy of a dragon.

Totally helpless. Conquered. Subdued in every possible way. He can't get it all in me. He'll tear me open. It hurt so bad, I knew I would not leave the room alive. But I'll die knowing I'm not queer.

But gradually, in tiny, searing-hot degrees and in screaming torture, my asshole stretched out to impossible size, and the huge cockhead forced itself inside! The battering ram blasted through my tight city gate. At the end my ass gave way almost with a pop, and -- miracle of miracles -- the pain lessened. 

Once the dragonhead nestled fully inside, I gasped with relief -- the pain went from a death-agony to mere torture. I opened my eyes and looked up. He stood above me, magnificent, heroic, sweat dripping from his muscles, holding himself still, and I realized he paused so his new bitch could adjust to his size. 

"His new bitch"? Can that be true? No! Hell, no, I'm nobody's bitch!

After a few minutes he pushed in a few more inches, again letting me appreciate and stretch to his size. It hurt. Damn, it hurt, but not as bad as when he first attacked my tight hole. Once the dragon was inside, nothing hurt as much. 

"Ja, I knew this," he grunted, "you are to this born, the natural bög -- the homo, nej?. Ta min kuk --Take my cock." He thrust in a few more inches. "Ach, ja, min hyndan."

Hyndan again. What does that mean?

The dragon's head invaded my guts, but every muscle, every bone in my body burned and ached. In a way, I was glad. This hurts like hell. No way do I crave this. I'm no queer--I'm being raped! Blackwelder was full of shit. When I get out of this, any curiosity about men is gone!

I had to admire Drakeskóld's muscular control. Doubled up like a pretzel, all I could to do was lie there and look up at his golden scrotum, but he stood over me, knees bent, holding himself still, and I knew how his leg muscles had to be burning. I was glad he had such control, that he did not fall on me and sink that huge harpoon into me in a single stroke! 

What a view. His balls were like hot lightbulbs over my face, and from time to time I saw his gold-encircled asshole. Magnificent!

Gradually my asshole relaxed still more, and as he slid in a few more inches, I no longer felt a stabbing agony, just discomfort. I watched him give me another stab, then another, and another. "I am in you, American soldier. Till testikel -- to the balls, nej?"

I said nothing. I just wanted it to be over.

He pulled back, and the giant cock retreated slowly, sensually, slick and slimy with lube and my juices, and I had visions of his flaring, dragon cockhead opening like an umbrella inside my guts, ripping me apart. This is it!! Now I'm going to die! I saw the truth! Drakeskóld is a Nazi! He's going to kill me with his cock. Shred my intestines!

But my asshole, stretched tighter than a trip-wire, glowed hot and super-sensitive, and the ribs and veins of his totem-pole cock passing over it sent strange, powerful thrills through me. Pleasure! Terrible, earthquake pleasure! A pleasure too much to bear!

He stopped just short of pulling the flaring horns back through my tortured hole, and when he started the in-jab again, instead of pain and torture, I felt wonderful, glorious! 

Ecstasy swept over me so strong it took my breath away, and I closed my eyes. God, what a feeling! Something bumped against my lips, and I opened my eyes. My cock, hard as steel, nudging against my mouth. I sucked it in, guzzling, licking, insane with lust. 

Drakeskóld began lunging up and down, in and out of me in regular fuck-strokes, and my eyes closed in ecstasy. The hot, masculine music of his heavy breathing droned in my head like an African work-chant. What endurance! He had to bend his knees almost to a squat with every stroke, then stand up again. What a man!

"Ja, you are wanting this, min hyndan," he croaked, "You want min kuk in your ass. You have the rövhål -- the tight 'ass-hole,' nej?" He fucked me like a nobleman. Not in short, jerking, guttersnipe jabs but in long, slow, tantalizing lunges, letting me feel every thrill in slow motion as his magnificent cock slid over and sizzled every nerve in my guts -- sealing me his slave. 

Never felt so wonderful. When Drakeskóld came down the home stretch, he let out a long, low moan. "Ach, Gott, ta min kuksås, du sprutluder!" and he came. I could feel it. Gigantic globs of heat shot down inside me, filling me. I didn't know what he said, but the meaning was universal -- take my jizz, you cum-slut!

That did it for me. I went nuts. My own cock exploded in my mouth, and the biggest ejaculation of my life almost drowned me in my own sperm. I was on fire. My jizz tasted different from his. Younger. Thinner.

It went on forever! I don't know how he did it, but he held me suspended in orgasm for what felt like 20 minutes! I may have been drunk, hypnotized, or both, but I know that was the longest orgasm of my life! 

I didn't know if he spermed in me all that time, but rivers of slime surged out of my poor asshole, and rivulets of it ran down over my balls and cock, onto my face. All I knew was that through some Nordic magic he kept me in a state of ecstasy so long I almost went insane!

When it was all over, I knew I would be sore for a week and wondered if I would ever stand up straight again. My head, though, had gone through the greatest gymnastics: Drakeskóld's giant cock plugged into my body had turned me into a glowing furnace, and all my old notions of manhood evaporated in a psst! of Swedish manpower.

When he finally withdrew, his dragon cockhead gave me one last jolt of pleasure as it flared my asshole on the way out. Drakeskóld sank to his knees on the sauna floor, then rolled onto his side. 

Slowly, achingly, I unrolled myself, my drooling cock leaving snail-tracks down my chin and over my chest, and when I lay straight on the floor, I rolled over to him. He took me in his arms and kissed me, again calming all my doubts with the power of his mouth and his arms.

As we lay and nuzzled, I murmured, "What's a hyndan?"

He chuckled. "A bitch. Are you my bitch?"

I thought about it. The kiss -- not to mention the cum running out of my asshole -- washed away all my old concepts. "Yeah . . . yeah, I'm your bitch."

We rested for a while, then, "We best get up now. Not too good to stay too long in sauna."

Ain't it the truth?

I stood up, weak-kneed and trembling, and stumbled naked out the door after him. He walked me down still another hall to a bedroom, and for as much as I hoped he would join me in the big four-poster, he said goodnight and left.

Alone in the giant bed, I fell asleep, out-cold through the rest of the day and that night, not waking until sunrise the next day. That morning I was so sore I could hardly move. My stretched, tender asshole made even walking a real effort. 

My uniform lay folded over a chair, cleaned and pressed, with my polished boots on the floor beside it. I dressed myself and walked down the hallway to the great hall, admiring the armored codpieces along the way. 

I walked slowly. Not only did my muscles and joints ache, my asshole was sore and stretched so bad, when I clenched it inside my underwear, instead of a quick snap, it was a long movement like a cargo-loader tightening the strap around a pile of logs. Oh, god, I'll never be the same!

I saw Lt. Payne ahead of me, walking slowly and gingerly. As if something was very sore. Drakeskóld had been gone from me the entire time -- a day and a night. Perhaps Payne's pace showed where he had spent his time.

Drakeskóld waited for us in the great hall. He was alone, and his face was serious. "Sverige is the neutral nation. By all the rights, I should place you in internment camp until end of the war."

Well, it could be worse. I could be lying in a snowbank dead.

"But we are not for the Nazi Tysken. Better you go back to fight again." He handed Payne a stack of papers. "Here you find Sverige pass for both of you and identitetspapper. From now on you are farm laborers." He smiled at me. "Your papers say you are the deaf-mute. You do not talk. Better so."

He pointed at two piles of clothing on the table. "You wear the Sverige clothes. No more the Amerikanen armé likformig, nej?"

Payne's voice was very low: "Let me see it. Just once more."

Drakeskóld chuckled. He pulled open his pants, and the glorious dragon sprang out. Hard and ready. Lt. Payne looked over at me, and as our eyes met, we knew. We were his bitches.

Drakeskóld's voice rumbled clear down to my balls: "Make you both ready on the table!"

Without a word, Payne and I stripped. Naked, we lay back on the big banquet table, raised our legs, spread them, and offered our eager assholes to the master and his fire-breathing cock. 

He went first for Payne, the leader, and as the giant dong sank into the lieutenant's ass, Payne stiffened, and his hand reached out to clasp mine.

We held hands as Drakeskóld fucked him, a magnificent sight. My cock drooled a mass of pre-cum slime all over my belly as I watched.

Drakeskóld was truly a master of intercourse. He moved in varying rhythms, in changing angles, in straight shots one moment and rolling, hip-swiveling lunges the next, turning Payne into putty, a mindless, heavy-breathing, wallowing ring of meat around Drakeskóld's plunging cock. 

Again, I saw the magic. The big Viking could actually draw multiple orgasms from a male partner. I saw Payne ejaculate no fewer than three times before the baron let out a groan, and Swedish cum spurted from the edges of Payne's stretched asshole.

Still more magic: when Drakeskóld withdrew from Payne's grateful, worshipful ass, he was still hard! He turned to me immediately, and drawing a scream of both pain-agony and pleasure-joy from me, he sank the vicious head into my ass and repeated the incredible performance he had done on my panting, exhausted companion.

When he finally pulled back, and his dragon's breath again leaked out from me in rivers, he smiled down at us. "Now you get dressed in the Sverige clothing, nej?"

As we got dressed, I tried to clench my asshole shut. I wanted to keep his jizz inside me. I wanted to soak it up. Absorb it. Have it fuse into my bones. I wanted to be like him.

He handed Payne another set of papers. "Train tickets to Stockholm. There you take the ship 'Gotheborg II' to Portugal. From there you go back to America, ja?"

I couldn't help myself. While he talked to Payne, I dropped to my knees and took his wonderful cock into my mouth. I loved the smell. I loved the taste. I loved the impossible size of it. I knew I would never see it again, and I knew it had ruined me forever -- every cock for the rest of my life would be "almost as big as," "nearly as good as," "a poor substitute for," or "nothing like" the incredible organ that taught me all about myself in a Swedish castle.

He pulled me to my feet, and he kissed us both on the mouth. Then he left the room. Castle attendants took us out to a car that carried us to the nearest town (a two-hour drive). 

There we took a train to Stockholm. In our compartment, we spoke about Drakeskóld. "Incredible man."

"Yes, sir. I've never cummed like that."

We looked at each other. Together we undid our belt-buckles and pulled open our pants. Since he outranked me, the lieutenant was first -- he sank his cock into me, the second man to fuck me. I did him next. 

When we finished, he smiled sadly. "Not his equal." 

I nodded. "He ruined us for anything less."

"Yeah."

We arrived in Stockholm without incident a few days later. We boarded the Gotheborg II, again with no problems, and from there our trip to Portugal and back the USA was uneventful compared to what had already happened to us. I have often thought about how much more earth-shaking was my experience in Sweden than the little explosion I set in Norway.

We fucked each other all the way back to the USA, trying to get as close as we could to the Ultimate. Always failing. 

We didn't get back to America until late 1945, and WW II was over. After long debriefings, the Army sent Payne and me in different directions. Never saw him again.

I spent the rest of my life trying to find a man who could fuck me as well as a Swedish Viking.

~~~