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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2006. Please
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The Yanks Are Cumming
by Kip Hawk (kiphawk@hotmail.com)
***
During the first world war, an American soldier spends
a memorable night with a French man and his young son.
(MMb, ped, inc, anal, hist)
***
September 1918, outside Verdun, France
A bullet ripped into the right shoulder of Corporal
Henry Gunderson. The man – if you can call a 22 year
old a man – lost consciousness, and when he came to,
his unit was gone. He spent the next several hours
wandering about in search of his comrades, and as the
sun began to set he decided to seek shelter in a farm
house that he saw in the distance.
Henry knocked on the door of the small structure and a
young boy of about twelve or thirteen opened. The boy
was very pretty, with dark black hair and skin a shade
darker than one usually found this far north of the
Mediterranean. Henry liked boys and had enjoyed messing
around with some friends back in Minnesota, but he was
still wrestling with these shameful feelings which gave
him such torment. He smiled at the boy, who was
obviously quite scared to see a hunky foreign soldier
standing on his door-step. Henry pointed at the
American flag on his uniform to let him know he was on
the Allied side of the Great War.
"Qui est là?" came a voice from within.
"Un soldat, Papa. Un américain."
A man of about forty appeared in the doorway, looking
somewhat alarmed.
"Vous êtes américain?" he asked. Henry didn't really
know any French, but he could understand what was being
asked of him. Henry smiled again, nodded his head and
pointed once more at the flag on his uniform.
"Ah, entrez, entrez," the man said, bidding Henry to
come inside. Upon entering Henry cast his eyes around
the sparsely furnished house. The French man saw that
his guest was bleeding and said something to his son,
who then scrambled up the stairs. Henry took delight in
watching the boy's ass cheeks bounce provocatively in
his short pants as he ran upstairs, and his pederastic
gaze did not escape the notice of the kid's father. The
man gave Henry a wry smile and led him to a chair, and
a few moments later the boy bounded back down the
stairs with a bottle and some bandages. He handed these
to his father, who dressed Henry's wound while his son
looked on with keen interest. There was no sign that
any woman lived in the modest dwelling.
"Je suis Phillipe Angers," he said pointing to himself,
"et c'est ici mon fils Jean-Luc."
"Henry," the lost American answered, "Henry Gunderson."
Phillipe then shouted something to his son who then
disappeared once again, only to return minutes later
with a plate of food.
"Mangez, monsieur," Jean-Luc said as he placed the
steaming plate in front of the corporal. The dish
contained a sort of stew with sausage and beans, and
Henry found it to be most delicious. Jean-Luc's father
poured some wine into a cup, and pushed it towards
Henry, who took a nice big sip.
Phillipe and his son tried to ask Henry some other
questions, but he didn't understand them. Henry
finished his hearty meal and polished off a few cups of
wine, and became quite sleepy. He yawned and Jean-Luc
took him by the hand and led him up stairs to a bed.
Henry stripped off his uniform and collapsed onto the
comfortable mattress and immediately drifted off to
slumber land.
In the middle of a pleasant dream Henry suddenly awoke.
He had heard a noise and sat up with a start,
momentarily forgetting where he was. The soldier
instinctively reached for the rifle which he had lain
against the wall and all of the preceding day's events
came back to him, the bullet, the desperate search for
his unit, the farm house, the sumptuous yet simple
dinner and the kind boy and his father. He listened
intently and heard the noise once more. He recognized
it as a moan. A moan of pleasure. Sexual pleasure.
"Oui, Papa, c'est si bon, c'est si bon." Henry was
astonished and felt his prick harden instantly. He was
tired, but it had been a long time since his meat had
seen any action besides his own right hand.
"Ah, Jean-Luc, que j'aime ton cul!" the boy's father
replied.
Henry couldn't believe his ears. It sounded like the
man was having sex with his own son! This he had to
see! Horny as hell, Henry scrambled out of bed and
tiptoed down the stairs. Once at the bottom he peeked
around the wall and his eyes almost popped out of their
sockets. Jean-Luc was bent over the kitchen table where
Henry had so recently eaten and his father stood behind
him thrusting his hips into the boy.
Henry's cock was throbbing inside his underwear and he
had to release it. He squeezed it hard as he watched
the French man sodomize his son. Why was he doing this?
Was this acceptable practice in France? How tight is
the boy's ass? What happened to the boy's mother? Where
did she go? How old was the kid anyway? He couldn't be
more than thirteen, pretty young to get fucked,
especially by his own father!
These questions washed over Henry's mind and mingled
with the electric sensations that resulted from the
actions of his masturbatory fingers. Henry stared
intently at the father-son coupling, his tongue lolling
out of his mouth as he watched Phillipe bugger Jean-
Luc. Phillipe's muscular ass cheeks rippled as he
flexed his groin in and out of the boy's little hole.
Henry was pulling harder and harder on his own pud, and
suddenly stumbled on the stairs, which made quite a
racket.
"Fuck," Henry exclaimed, embarrassed at giving himself
away.
Phillipe looked over at his guest-turned-peeping-Tom
and, without missing a beat of his rhythmic incestuous
fucking, smiled at the American. He gestured for Henry
to come over and join them, and Henry complied as if
caught in a hypnotist's trance.
"Le cul de mon fils est magnifique, monsieur. Ma femme
est morte il y a plusieurs ans, et Jean-Luc est la
seule personne qui je peux enculer."
Henry had no idea what Phillipe was saying, but didn't
care. He was totally enraptured by the close-up view of
Phillipe fucking the young garçon, and Jean-Luc looked
up and gave him a smile that reflected a mixture of
sweetness and lust.
"Enculez-moi, Monsieur, enculez-moi!" He panted, then
licked his lips lasciviously. Was the boy asking me to
fuck him?, Henry wondered.
"Tu le veux?" Phillipe asked and withdrew from his son.
He pointed at the boy's firm ass, now quivering in the
air as if he desperately needed a prick to be inserted
back into him. Henry didn't need to be asked twice and
moved to fill-in (literally) for the boy's father.
Jean-Luc seemed to approve, as he continued to moan in
delight. Phillipe went off to the side and beat his
meat as he watched the American insert his penis into
his son's butt.
Henry couldn't believe how tight the kid was. He plowed
his dick in and out of the boy's vise-like ass and ran
his horny hands over Jean-Luc's smooth ass cheeks. His
ass was so smooth, so tight, so pretty. Fuck, it almost
seemed to have made it worth it for Henry to have come
across the ocean to fight the Kaiser.
Henry ran his hands underneath the boy and felt the
kids cock and balls, both of which seemed to be
completely hairless. Fuck the kid was young. Henry
still couldn't believe he was dipping his wick in such
a young, hairless little French boy. All too soon Henry
felt a stirring deep inside his balls, and a few
thrusts later they exploded like two hand grenades
lobbed into No-Man's Land.
"Fuckkkk, yeahhhhh!" Henry yelled as his climax washed
over him. He continued to pump in and out of the boy's
fanny until the feeling subsided, and then withdrew and
collapsed into a chair. He poured himself a cup of wine
and Phillipe resumed his incestuous position behind his
son. Henry enjoyed the wine and the after-glow of his
orgasm as he watched Phillipe vigorously fuck the kid.
Eventually Phillipe himself started to howl and yell
something in French, and Henry knew the perverted
Gallic man was shooting his sperm up his son's
pubescent ass.
Henry drank a few more cups of wine with Jean-Luc and
Phillipe before he returned to bed. In the morning he
set out to find his unit, as he knew he was needed to
help push the Germans back across the Hindenburg line.
Jean-Luc and his father watched Henry walk away as the
sun climbed its way into the sky. They would always
remember him fondly even though they never saw or heard
from him again. Henry, like so many young men before
him, would not make it out of France alive; three days
later Henry was hit by a second bullet while lost in a
daydream about Jean-Luc's ass.
Comments? Ideas for stories? Please send to
kiphawk@hotmail.com.
©2006 by Kip Hawk. All rights reserved.
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 48