By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
Artwork (c) 2003 by RoToo
Illustration of Wargames

Lieutenant Gruber gathered her force around in a circle. "All right." she growled. "We start in five more minutes. I want you to spread out and locate the target. Move hard and fast; we'll rendevous at Point Alpha in a half hour's time. Even if you spot the target, even if you can pick it up easily, I don't want you to do anything but rendevous. They won't be placing the target in an unprotected position, so anyone who doesn't make rendevous will be assumed to have encountered the target. So even if you're captured or wounded, bear up, we'll come after you."

She looked around the group once again. "Just because the other team is supposed to wear t-shirts doesn't mean they can't put on a shirt. So when you meet someone you can't identify, someone you don't know, be careful. It could be a trap."

Private Adam Quinn nodded. Lieutenant Gruber focused on him specially. "You especially. Keep an eye out for Richmond. I swear that guy is after you."

Quinn just shrugged. He couldn't deny it, he and Richmond had encountered each other in every war game they'd played for the last few months. One of them had always ended up capturing the other.

"Okay, rendevous in thirty...mark!" Gruber snapped and they were off. Their wargame was being held in a mid-sized preserve, over two hundred square miles. This left the red team with lots of room to hide their "target," a flag marked with their team colors. For armament, both sides carried paint-ball guns, and some dummy grenades and similar. Today, his team, the blue team, was to attempt to capture the red flag, tomorrow, the red team would try to capture the blue flag. Observers would be on hand to keep the game honest, but most of these were stationed around the flag target. The rest of the time, any non-lethal tactic was fair game!

He had a lot of ground to cover in the half hour, it required him to move at a fair run whenever possible. He personally felt Gruber hadn't allowed enough time even for a recon mission.

Still, he had to admit that they only had until sundown to find and capture the flag, and would need all the time they could to form a battle plan once the defenses had been scoped out.

But it made moving silently or secretly damned difficult.

Quinn made it to his first "point," a large tree on a hill. From there, he would chart a course to scan the surrounding terrain, then move on to the next hill. At the end of the half hour, they would hopefully know where in this ten-mile-by-twenty-mile preserve the red flag was. Then the real games could begin.

The tree was an obvious vantage point, he crept toward it as carefully as he could, well aware that the red team wasn't forced to play a defensive role only. They might have scouts out to....

"Pop!" And a red paint daub appeared on on the bush near him. Quinn whirled, but his opponent had the bead on him and his own gun was still slung.

He did the only thing he had left. Stood there and said, "God damn it, Richmond!"

Red soldier Mark Richmond just grinned as he strode out. Like Quinn, he was wearing green combat fatigues, the only difference in their clothing was the agreed-upon one, he wore a green t-shirt where Quinn wore a full shirt and no t-shirt. Both would have been standard, but these were wargames, and by each surrendering the one garment upon entering the preserve, the risk was minimized for cheating. Had they, for example, chosen a red or blue kerchief, it would have been easy to smuggle in such and use it to lull opponents into a false sense of security. Nobody could keep that well a track of which soldier was on which side, they changed with every set of games.

"What's the matter, Quinn?" Richmond said, grinning. Richmond was a big man, the t-shirt was strained to hold itself across his broad chest and the sleeves surrendered at the biceps and rode higher up in self-defense, the cap rode cockily even in proper position upon his head, for Richmond was tall, strong, square-jowled and dark-eyed. Recruiters seek such men as he for their posters.

And Quinn was now his prisoner. Quinn put his hands on top of his head.

"You know the routine." Richmond said, motioning downwards with his rifle barrel.

Quinn grudgingly got onto his knees.

"Now the weapon." Richmond said. "Take it off slowly, or I'll pop you with paint right between the eyes." And he could have, too, that first shot had missed only because Richmond chose to let it miss. Quinn knew darned well the only reason he wasn't "a casualty" now was that Richmond chose to let him stay in the game. As a prisoner, but captives could and did escape.

Quinn lifted his rifle over his head and at Richmond's prompting, tossed it away from himself.

Richmond then closed up to him and Quinn looked up to see Richmond towering over him.

"So, you were going at a hell of a clip." Richmond said casually. "What's Gruber's game, anyway?"

Quinn looked up and said, "Quinn, Adam, private, Blue Army, serial number Blue twelve."

That was all he was required to give.

"She always did like recon maneuvers and then a directed strike." Richmond said conversationally. "I bet you're all sent out in a pattern to find the flag and then rendevous for the real strike, huh?"

"Quinn, Adam, private...."

"All right, all right." Richmond said. "I'll let up. My job is to hold this hill, anyway. My C.O. knows Gruber's tactics, and figures if enough of her men show up missing, Gruber's recon isn't going to help. She figures a missing man is near the target, but what does she do when four of her men show up missing, huh?"

That was true. "So now what?" Quinn asked.

"Eh? Now we wait." Richmond said. "With four of her twenty men out, she'll have to send out a second recon, in small squads, groups of four men, to retrace the missing men's territory. She ought to lose better than half of those just finding the flag, then she won't have enough men left to take our flag. That'll teach her to pick recon over everything else. She should have sent groups of three men, to take out any scouts of ours."

"How do you know she didn't?" Quinn asked with a cunning grin.

"Because I watched you for the last hundred yards." Richmond said. "You were making noises like an elephant sneaking through a nursery school. You wouldn't have moved that fast in a squad."

He was right, of course.

"Still, I'd better tie you up." Richmond said. "Come on, arms behind your back and bend that head down."

Quinn felt his wrists being bound. Pretty tight, but most bonds could be wormed loose by a determined captive. Sooner or later.

"So." Richmond said from behind him, his voice right in Quinn's ear. "Got an hour before I'm due to report in. The two of us all alone in the forest. Got any ideas what we can do, hmm?"

"Fuck you." Quinn growled.

"Well, that's one idea." Richmond said. He came around to Quinn's front and Quinn was looking right at his fly, as his brawny hand undid the buttons there, reached in to capture the wild beast held within its confines, drag it screaming into the light of day. Ten solid inches of manhood roared its defiance, its red angry head pointed at Quinn as it slavered toward him.

"Now, how about you be a good prisoner and say Ďah.'" Richmond said as he pushed the huge head close to Quinn's mouth.

"Mph!" Quinn shook his head.

"Come on, just give it a kiss." Richmond cooed as he bumped the weeping glans on Quinn's lips. Salty clear fluid smeared itself on Quinn's mouth and over one cheek as Quinn turned away.

"Come on, take it." Richmond said and the coaxing was gone from his voice.

Quinn turned his head back and again that thick cockhead was pressing against his lips. This time, he parted his lips and the monster slipped inside, seeking the dark safety of Quinn's mouth-cavern.

"Ah, that's better." Richmond grunted as he pushed the shaft into Quinn's mouth. "Come on, take it like a man!"

Quinn worked his lips and worked up the saliva, his hot steamy spit sizzled around Richmond's dong, coating its sides with churning squishing bubbly action.

Richmond grabbed Quinn's head and he face-fucked Quinn, Quinn held tight as the huge pud was slammed in and out of his mouth, and Richmond moaned, panting, he broke away, pulling the heavy dick out of Quinn's mouth with a pop of Quinn's lips and a dribble of wasted slimy saliva drooling off of it.

"Ah, shit, you're good at that!" Richmond heaved as he stood there, and Quinn reached forward, his tongue questing for the ardent organ, to retrieve it.

"Ah-ahn!" Richmond said just before Quinn got hold of it, yanking it away. "I got other plans for this load. Stand up."

Quinn did, his own breast heaving up and down as the handsome enemy soldier advanced on him. If his hands had been free, he could have felt those massive pecs, brushed that taut abdomen on his path down to the sweetness below.

Richmond unbuttoned Quinn's shirt, and his hand went in and caressed the bare flesh beneath. Quinn was glad now the game rules had taken his own t-shirt away, for his naked body was now being touched by those thick, strong hands, feeling his nipples with powerful fingers that pinched and squeezed, yanking gasps of pleasureful pain from Quinn.

And then hands, those talented hands, that could kill or love, went down to his belt and undid it, unzipped his fly and fondled his manhood, stroking that calloused palm over his shaft and bringing it to life.

"Hot damn, you're juicy today." Richmond mummured and he sank to his knees and Quinn croaked rather than grunted as his nine-inch dong plunged into that square-jawed handsome face.

Richmond milked Quinn's pud with a talent Quinn couldn't help but give into, his cock was being stroked with familiarity and expertise, every inch of his prick longed to be touched, sated by this satyr in soldier's clothing, and Richmond sucked Quinn's cock into too-hard, too-stiff, pounding erection!

"That pays you back." Richmond said as he stood again and Quinn moaned.

"God, man, don't do this to me!" he begged shamelessly. "Come on, suck me some more, or let me suck you. Let's get on the ground and sixty-nine ourselves blindshit crazy!"

"Some other time." Richmond promised. "For now, I'm after bigger game. And he got behind Quinn once again.

Quinn felt that tongue dive between his ass-cheeks and he groaned, bent over, his hands flailing at his back, fluttering like captive butterflies. "God, man, eat me out!" he moaned. "Hell, man, dig for it, taste that sour butt-juice!"

Richmond probed with his tongue while Quinn contorted above him, and when Richmond stopped, Quinn said, driven brazen by his passion, "God, man, you really know how to eat ass! Get around here and let me do yours now!"

"I said I was after bigger game." Richmond said. Quinn felt his hands being pushed away from his body. The fastening didn't prevent him from pivoting his hands and he did, and Richmond's head poked between them.

"Shit, man, my shoulders!" Quinn griped.

Richmond pulled out and Quinn felt his hands being untied, loosened, retied before he could sort out the sensations.

"Now you got some slack." Richmond informed him and that head dove back into him.

Had Quinn been more aware, he could have pulled his hands underneath himself quickly and gotten out of his bonds, but Richmond's body prevented that, now he was pinned against Richmond's chest, his hands at Richmond's waist, fastened as effectively to the strong body as if he'd been tied to a tree. His hands were now far apart and unable to help each other.

Richmond kissed his ear and said, "We have ways of making you talk, you know." he cooed into Quinn's ear. "Now we begin to probe the prisoner."

And Richmond's cock now shoved itself at Quinn's buttocks, delving between them and heading for his nexus.

Quinn shifted to guide it on its way and when Richmond reached his puckerhole, Quinn groaned. "Bet you can't shove it in me deep enough to make me betray my friends."

"Ah, a challenge." Richmond said. "I love a challenge." And that thick pud wrenched its way into Quinn's bowels.

Quinn grunted as Richmond thrust deeper into him, in this constrained position, he couldn't aid Richmond in this, he could only hold still and let the dark-eyed warrior stick it to him at will.

He threw his head back and groaned as Richmond's balls slapped his buttocks, signaling the fact that all ten man-inches were now inside of him. Richmond said, "Now, pay attention. I've got my cock buried inside of you, but you'll notice it's not moving." He gave it a couple of thrusts and Quinn moaned as the huge dong slid across his prostate gland and excited his desire.

"You like that, don't you?" murmured Richmond. "The only way I'll keep it moving is for you to tell me your battle plans." he said triumphantly.

"Ah, shit!" Quinn gasped. "Come on, move it!" He tried to get his hips in motion, but the stretch of his arms was at limit, anything more and pain screamed at both shoulders. He gave up, panting, and said, "All right. What do you want to know?"

That wonderful dick began to move within him, slowly. "How many men are on your force?"

Richmond queried.

"Thirty-five." Quinn told him. Hell, Richmond knew this, but it was part of the game.

"And who is your commanding officer?"

Shit, that dick was an intelligent being of its own, the way it managed to hit his button right on target every time, it must have eyes that could see in the darkness of his intestines, let it nudge his prostate gland's nodes at every thrust.

"Lieutenant Gruber." Quinn gasped. "Come on, faster, give it to me faster."

"And how many scouts has she deployed to search for our flag?"

"Everyone." Quinn admitted, closed his eyes and moaned as that huge pud played with his joy buzzer. "God, man, I'll shoot it if you'll keep that up."

"And when are you to rendevous after your scouting mission?"

"A half hour." Quinn squeaked out. "Shit, man, I'm going to come!"

"A half hour, eh?" Richmond said as he rammed into Quinn's bowels. "We are pumping the prisoner very well now, aren't we?"

"Shit, yeah!" Quinn moaned. "Oh, hell, I'm coming, man, I'm coming!"

Richmond's voice had receded to a whisper, one fraught with incipient passion. "And where, is your, rendevous, point?"

"Beneath...Hill...Eighteen!" Quinn blubbered. "Oh, damn, oh, hell, oh, SHIT!" And he was jetting his jism, squirting his juice in high, white arcs out from his body.

"That is, valuable...in...for...mation!" Richmond grunted and then there were only groans as he hit his own climax, he ejaculated deep into Quinn's body, Quinn felt it only as pulsing along the huge dong imbedded inside of him, and he was still wracked with his own climax, the two men were bound together and hit their orgasm together, and the weakness that brought sent them crashing to the ground after, two sweating, gasping men with blood pounding in their temples and blurring their eyesight, leaving them helpless and blind to the world.

As they finished, and the sounds receded and the sight returned, they heard the popping of a gun firing, and then the splatter of paint all across both their bodies. Blue paint!

"What the hell!" Quinn gasped when he saw it. "Damn it, friendly fire! Motherfucking friendly fire!"

"Friendly, my ass!" came Gruber's voice.

The two men looked up to see their assassin, for they were both indubitably "killed" by game rules. Lieutenant Gruber stood there, her broad body holding the gun proudly.

"I should have guessed you two were fucking around." she said. "We came here to fight, not to screw our enemies!"

"He captured me." Quinn protested. "He captured me and you could have rescued me but you just fucking shot me!"

"You deserved it." Gruber said. "An officer can kill an underling to prevent him from giving information on his troop's movements when captured. You were telling him everything and I heard you loud and clear. Only choice was to take both of you out, before he could turn on his walkie-talkie and tell the entire fucking red team."

Richmond squirmed out from under Quinn's bonds, and now Quinn did step back over his ties and get his hands before him.

Gruber had her own walkie-talkie before her. "Gruber reporting in to main base." she said.

"Two casualties to report, one red team, one blue team. Richmond and Quinn are both casualties."

"Roger that." came the response.

"Come get their worthless asses out of my combat zone." she said and stomped off, presumably to continue the search for the red flag.

Since a ride was coming for them, Quinn and Richmond sat down. As Richmond untied him, he said, "So, where was your flag?"

"A big oak near Hill Twelve." Richmond said.

"Good choice." Quinn approved, Hill Twelve was right near one side of the territory of the combat, a scout who wasn't careful could overlook it. "I wonder if Gruber will find it?"

"Who knows, screw her." Richmond said. "You want to be on the same team tomorrow?"

"Nah." Quinn said as he stood up. The pickup was coming to get them. "But tomorrow, I get to capture you."

"What you got in mind for me as your helpless prisoner?" Richmond said.

"You'll find out." Quinn grinned evilly. "I'll interrogate you so hard, you won't be able to walk." He rubbed his own buttocks ruefully.

Richmond laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, and the two went off in the "meat wagon" to find a quiet spot to wait out the rest of the day's game.

As for tomorrow...another day, another wargame.


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