Date: Wed, 21 Dec 2016 11:23:15 +0000 (UTC)
From: Victor Herrmann <doublehelix2632@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Rogue Squad - Mission Five concluded

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. Simple as that. This story may
contain some graphic descriptions of violence and cruelty as well as rape
that some readers may find offensive.

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Rogue Squad -- Mission Five Concluded
by Doublehelix26

Ryan, 28, explosives specialist, white, lean build, 6' tall, blond
short-cropped hair. 
Johnson, 27, firearms expert, black, heavy but lean build, 6'3", buzz cut.
Peters, 28, recon leader, white, muscly, 6'2", buzz cut blond.
Ramirez, 29, intel lead, Latino, lean and firm build, 5'7", buzz cut.


Eastern Ukraine -- Still in that wretched farmhouse. A hut really,
abandoned by the local farmer after he and his three sons were assaulted by
pro-Russian rebels. There'd been lights on the horizon at night, maybe
fires burning. Possibly rebel activity in the village nearby. High time to
get out.

The next morning, Ramirez and Peters headed to the proposed extraction
point to scope out the surroundings. Five hours to go to extraction. Ryan
and Johnson were left behind to pack up what little gear they had with
them. It was getting unseasonably hot out. Best to stay inside and leave
the shutters closed. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. The soldiers
weren't exactly expecting visitors, but Ryan opened the door
anyway. Without drawing his gun. Stupid mistake.

There stood their local liaison, the boy from last night who'd told them
the story of the unfortunate farmer and his sons. The one Ryan had later
jerked off and fed his own cum. But this morning the boy has a strange look
on him. Sure enough, as soon as Ryan swings the door all the way open, he
discovers two armed fighters, guns pointing first at the boy's head, then
shifting to Ryan. One of them lays his index fingers across his mouth:
`don't make a sound'. There are more fighters that now emerge from nearby
shrubs. Six in total, guns pointing. The boy apologises in English: `They
attacked our village last night. They took my family. These are the
fighters who attacked the farmer. They must have come back. They knew about
you somehow.' Sure enough, there's six fighter, like the boy had
described. One of them clearly leader, slightly older, more determined
looking. But they're all relatively young, hardened soldiers. And they
speak only Russian. Which is a problem: Only Peters speaks Russian but he's
still out.

Since Ryan is unarmed, there's no point in putting up a fight. The fighters
enter the hut. Johnson just puts his arms up when he sees the group
enter. He is smart enough not to try anything. The fighters are visibly
relaxing once they're inside. And they don't waste much time. As soon as
they've checked that there are no more soldiers hiding in the hut, they
barricade the front door. Then they order the boy strip. He starts to
cry. Next they make Ryan and Johnson strip also. They push them onto a
mattress each, on all fours, put hoods on them, repurposed potato sacks
made of rough fabric. It's hot and sticky in the hut. The fighter are
sweaty and there's a rank smell coming off them: sweat and
testosterone. Ryan and Johnson are sweating with nerves. How soon will
Ramirez and Peters be back? The fighters are talking to each
other. Laughing. They're planning something. Ryan and Johnson can't see
anything.

The leader of the group gets first dips. He shoves the liaison boy to his
knees, unzips his army trousers and whisks out his erect cock, a fleshy
well-worn tool. Muttering some orders in Russian, he shoves his cock into
the boys mouth. He has no choice but to oblige. Ryan and Johnson hear
familiar slurping sounds and piece together what's happening.  After a
short while, the leader pushes boy off and takes him over the Ryan, who's
kneeling on all fours, his naked ass exposed. He kicks Ryan's legs further
apart, spreading his ass cheeks. Ryan is nervous, but he complies. The
leader now pushes the boy's face into Ryan's ass crack. Another command in
Russian sets the boy licking Ryan's ass. Two fighters watch this with glee,
while the other three have started touching Johnson, who's not at all
pleased, but helpless. They clearly haven't seen a black guy up close
before. Now they explore his naked muscular body.

The boy rims Ryan, who's starting to like it. The leader pull the boy back
and shoves his right middle finger into Ryan's anus, pushing it all the way
in. Then pulling back only to push in again. Ryan gets finger fucked
roughly for a few minutes and the rebel leader is clearly enjoying this
ass-play. Ryan is rock hard by now, but no-one's attending to his cock. The
rebel leader says something in Russian and Ryan hears the other two
fighters, who have been watching, take off their trousers. As the leader
retracts his fingers, they now move in to fuck Ryan. The boy, who has sat
off to the side for a while, looks on with fascination as one of the
fighters pushes his hard cock in. Ryan grunts upon being entered, and it's
not clear if it's with pain or pleasure. While the two fighters now take
turns fucking Ryan, the leader takes the boy over to Johnson.

The other three fighters have been stroking and poking the muscular black
soldier, but they have not yet invaded his private parts. The leader
remedies that: he shoves the boy to lick Johnson's ass just like before
with Ryan. The fighters start laughing and are clearly pleased to see the
young white boys lick the black soldier's ass. They all take their trousers
off, sporting virile Russian erections. When the leader pull off the boy,
Johnson's anus now slicks with the boy's saliva, one of the fighters takes
the boy over to another mattress. He puts another potato sack over the
boy's head (clearly his mouth is now off duty) and gets ready to rape the
boy's ass. Which he will proceed to do repeatedly for the next hour.

The other two fighters and their leader, meanwhile, take keen interest in
Johnson's ass. Having finger-fucked him for a while, just like Ryan before,
the leader goes ahead and fucks Johnson. Even though he's not exactly used
to being a bottom, the black soldier knows not to put up a fight. The heat
in the hut and his nerves make him sweat and his body is glistening in the
twilight of the shuttered room. Occasional squeals emerge from the corner
where the liaison boy is getting abused. Ryan's side of the hut is quiet,
his rapists going at him as an efficient, non-stop tag team.

But for the fighters, Johnson is the highlight the show. The sweaty black
hunk gets fucked by the leader first. When he erupts in Johnson's ass, his
two comrades cheer him on and high-five him. One of them now takes his
position, sliding his sizeable penis into Johnson's cum-greased
sphincter. Johnson can't see the fighter who's fucking him, but the fighter
is young and lean, his six-pack shimmering with sweat, his muscular ass
contracting with each push into Johnson's rear. He's never touched a black
man before and he's enjoying the specimen before him. While the fucking
goes on, the fighters settle into talking in Russian, almost like their
chatting casually by a campfire. Then, just as the fighter fucking Johnson
cums in hard thrusts, there's some commotion: the other fighter has pointed
out that Johnson is sporting a massive erection.

His engorged black cock is throbbing, pointing tight against his belly. The
fighters who were working Ryan leave him and join the others. Even the
fighter who's been fucking the boy takes a break to have closer look. As
Johnson receives his third cock of the day, up his ass, the other fighters
start teasing his cock. Touching it, pulling at it, giving it a few
tucks. A strand of precum drips down on the mattress. In their ugly Russian
dialect, the fighters are debating something. They're clearly intrigued by
the hard black cock -- and they want to see it in action. After some
discussion, the fighters who has been abusing the liaison boy, pulls the
kid up and drags him over. Once the third fighter has shot his load in
Johnson's ass, the others pull the black soldier up and shove the boy down
before him: they want Johnson to fuck the young traitor.

Johnson still has the potato sack hood on, so can't be sure what's
happening. But when he feel his way down, he likes what he's groping: a
young slender body. As he begins to slide his large hard dick into the
boy's greased ass, the youth whimpers. The fighters cheer Johnson on as he
bottoms out in the boy's lean ass. One of the fighters enters the black
hunk from behind, sandwiching him. Another fighter covers the boy's nose
and mouth under the hood, tight enough to make him stop whining, but not
tight enough to make him pass out: They want the kid to feel this black
shaft work inside him. Ploughing his immense rod into the boy underneath,
like a stallion fucking a mare, Johnson does not need long to get
close. But just as he's about to cum, the fighters abruptly pulls him off:
they want to SEE his black cock shoot its load! While he's still being
fucked from behind, pushed forward on all fours again, they put Johnson's
right hand on his dick. He obligingly pumps himself to orgasm, spraying
copious amounts of cum all over the boy's ass and back.

The fighters are pleased. They enjoyed that display. Now they cast boy
aside to his previous mattress, his minder re-entering him for another
round, using Johnson's fresh cum as extra lube. They've lost interest in
Ryan, beyond making sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Instead, they all
now take turns fucking Johnson. His black body is sweaty, his spent cock
hangs down between his legs, a drip of cum still at its drained tip. The
poor soldier endures one penetration after the other, his own organ
painfully worn out. The fighters are relentless in the unending
assault. Johnson loses count after ten or so. Six fighters, five if you
discount the one who's enjoying the boy... and how many times can each of
these horny fighters cum?

The answer comes when the group decides to retreat. Their leader has
muttered something in Russian, perhaps an order, `that's enough, boys.'
When the latest assailant has shot his load, as if to say, `goodbye,' the
leader cruelly shoves three fingers up Johnson's well stretched anus and
gives it one last shake and wiggle. Then the fighters gets dressed, pull
the potato sacks off Ryan and Johnson and make a controlled exit. No shots
fired, no lives lost. But, almost as a casual afterthought, they do take
the naked boy, still hooded. Fate may not look kindly on the traitor... if
he's lucky, he'll just have to be their entertainment for a while.

Johnson and Ryan feel lucky they've survived the ambush, if worse for
wear. When Ramirez and Peters return from their scope-out, conveniently
long after the rebels are gone, Ryan and Johnson have agreed not to report
the incident. Their leader probably wouldn't believe them: there's hardly
any trace of the fighters ever having been there, except for some fresh cum
stains and a rank smell in the air. -- The reunited squad makes their way
to the extraction point. Johnson is so sore he can barely walk. But he
hides is as best as he can, claiming he's got a leg cramp. Extraction takes
place without incident, from the agreed point at the agreed time.

Mission accomplished.