Actions of Man on Covert Mission

Tough Encounters in Perky Caucasus

Another perilous voyage had brought Marco to Georgia. He was inside the borders of the USSR. With a small wooden sailboat he had traversed east along the northern coast of Turkey. To an ordinary observer, this was just a strong pre-modern man who fished in the Black Sea, with life sustained like in the old days, oblivious to the geopolitical tumult around himself and his boat. In the pockets and shoulder bag, however, there were wads of cash, which shared space with a notebook and cock ring. Agent Cooper had tried to add a revolver to the collection, but Marco had refused. This step of the mission was one of true strength and flux — go with the wind, avoid blunt force confrontation, act along with nature. 

During the journey Marco had continued to read from the notebook. His holy card was moving further through the pages. One day from landfall, he reached a section written in barely legible Greek that described customs at ‘the edge of the world’ along with detailed yet cryptic advice about herding sheep. As educational as it may be, the rudimentary life on the sailboat was over, and the march to Kutaisi had to commence.

Marco knew the basic facts of the land. Georgia was the supplier of wine and sunny respites for the people on this side of the Iron Curtain. Well, at least for the people who had paid their political dues. It was also a very mountainous region, the Caucasus Mountains stretched east to west (or maybe the other way around) between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. A natural barrier for armies for millennia, and a natural habitat for unruly, boisterous and rebellious men for at least as long. Mountain people, ancient people, unreliable petit bourgeoise, as Zhivotnoy had summarized it.

A rebellious character plus mountains make for a good combination, Marco thought, as he checked out groups of young men, who loudly jousted and tested their strength, with their asses as perky as only a life of uphill walking can render. The groups of men appeared to live at the precarious boundary between violence, foolish dares, and circle-jerks.

He had elected to walk and hitch-hike inland along a southern route at the foot of the Lesser Caucasus mountains. In a simple outfit, tanned and muscular, he did his best to appear like a taciturn rough manual worker. When appropriate, he slipped some guy a few rubles to transport him eastward. As far as Marco could tell, people preferred to mind their own business, so he had no reason to be worried. It was slow, but the progress was steady.

It was never going to be easy to find Mitya. This was his turf. But men of that caliber and capacity left marks, Marco knew as much. It was in their nature to make an impact, to attract admiration and followers, and to lead. It was like a search for ripples on a water surface, and then from their curvature and direction infer where the source was. Come close enough, and know the nature of the waves Mitya would inspire in fellow men, and Marco should be able to trace it back to Mitya’s lair. That was the plan — the rest had to be improvised.

Consequently, Marco’s loving inspection of the groups of local young men were not only in order to fuel his aesthetic senses. It was also to discern who among them might be a follower of the true apex bottom east of Elbe. 

Marco had troubles to maintain professional distance. The parade of perky asses demanded a great deal of his attention. Julek had been an eager sucker, by now he would be a highly desired boy among the time-honoured English aristocracy. But Marco had never had the opportunity to feel Julek deep inside, to fuck him good and proper. Come to think of it, not since Gany and the warm beach had Marco felt the delicious grip of a pretty ass that pleased and grew his manhood. That sensation was a drug… the feeling of nice firm buttocks in the palm, their bouncy response when grabbed, slapped and groped, the view when spread, then the sensation as the penis pressed inside, then the sounds and the deep connection, and that sweet sweet grip.

Marco had slipped on the cock ring, which pressed and restrained the dick and balls in all the right ways. The cock ring somehow made it easier to command the sexual spirit that burned inside. That was its ancient power. To jerk off would perhaps address part of the issue, but really, Marco needed sweet ass to drill and command, that was his nature, the cock ring directed those urges to productive ends, at least for now.

A few miles north was Kutaisi. Tomorrow morning Marco would hitch a ride from the mountains into the city. It was an ancient city, which had its share of hidden paths carved by history and secretive men, so a place Marco was fit to navigate. But also, the KGB and the Red Army were there.

At dusk under a tree a few metres from the road, Marco ate bread and olives he had bought earlier in the day. The sky darkened as the sun set. He was ready for the next risky step of the mission. Just a few hours of sleep hidden from view.

A group of six young men who walked southwards on the road came into view. They turned off and continued on a narrow path. Three things stood out to Marco’s trained eye. First, rather than speaking loudly, as these groups of men usually did, these men whispered. They tried to not be noticed. Second, their physical interactions were rough yet tender. They tried to come closer to each other’s bodies. Third, their asses were superbly perky and Marco could almost taste their sweetness from his place of hiding. Wherever this group of sparkling masculinity was headed, someone was about to get fucked, that much Marco could tell. He needed to watch and admire, and who knows, maybe even join.

At a careful distance, Marco followed the group of men south, uphill, until they reached what looked like a fire damaged barn, most likely where bulls in the past had been kept between days in which they plowed the fields. The young men walked in and lights switched on. Their conversation was muted but sounded more purposeful all of a sudden.

Marco circled the barn, careful to stay among the trees where it was dark. At the opposite side of the entrance, the fire damage had created a gap between wood panels, about three feet off the ground, through which light shone. It was worth the risk, Marco reasoned, six asses this great deserved admiration, so cautiously he approached, crouched down, and looked through the narrow gap.

Step aside, natural beauty of a clear sky mountainous panorama, because what Marco saw was superb natural grandeur. All six young men dressed in nothing but thin shirts that barely covered their cresting buttocks, all other parts left exposed. They jousted a bit, tackled and pushed each other, and they tried to land playful slaps on each other’s butts. Some agreement existed, however, and soon four of the men went down on all fours, their asses arched high up, such that the firm buttocks parted. The other two men watched, with strong and healthy erections pointed outwards. Wide smiles on faces.

The four men happened to be positioned such that their pretty asses were in full view from the gap in the wall through which Marco watched. It looked so good it hurt. Quite literally, since Marco’s dick became fully hard in seconds. He had to open his trousers, move them down below the knees, so his penis could be free as he marvelled at the show.

Inside the four men on all fours seductively moved their asses from side to side, and looked back at the two men who stood behind them. They observed carefully how much the ass movement aroused the two. It did not take long for one of two men standing to grunt 'must fuck' in Russian, then he lowered himself, such that he stood on his knees behind one of the asses. He tried to grab the ass, tried to stop its motion, such that he could aim his dick at the precious grip that waited inside. The ass was not that easy to subdue, though, it was alive, it moved on, its firm muscles worked against the force. The man above the ass became frustrated by the obstinacy, he was teased by the ass, egged on. He slapped the ass two times, grabbed the hips and with major force pulled the ass close, and pressed himself inside.

The yelps, the groans, the sounds of slapping against a pretty butt… the young man at the top soon thrusted like crazy. This exertion of raw sexual desire was not a choice, it was a must.

The other three young men on all fours initiated an amusing routine. They aimed their butts towards the man standing whose dick was ready and available for penetration. “Me, me, take me”, they said repeatedly as they teased the man above them. Their asses were simply amazing: strong, twitching, smooth, alive and spankable in all the proper and improper ways. Their spirited teasing just as well. The man above, Marco noted, was not an experienced top because he had become practically paralyzed by the spectacle. Severe sexual overload paralysis, some called it — and it could kill — a fact most field manuals omitted. That guy wanted it all, right here compressed into a single moment. Thrust, poke, plow, spank, drill, grope, wrestle, subdue, fondle, command, insert, dominate, penetrate, fornicate… but in what order? 

They better do something before the poor guy has a seizure, Marco thought, as he especially admired one of the guys’ very naughty look, his tongue protruded. That boy needed to be put on a knee and taken on an hour long tour in manly spanking land. Marco massaged himself on the other side of the wall.

That very naughty one resolved the paralysis. He jumped forward, got down on his back, reached forward confidently and grabbed the hard dick of the man above and tugged the man standing on top, such that he fell over. The two manly naked bodies touched. The naughty one on his back wrapped his legs around the man on top and bit the ear of the guy. That awakened the natural assertiveness of the guy on top. He pushed himself up, pressed the legs of the naughty boy up, spread his buttocks as much as male anatomy allowed, before he took aim and thrusted his painfully hard dick inside. The naughty look, the moaning, and he was soon lost in a routine of a proper power fuck. 

The two boys who remained found nipples to suck on. Their mouths needed that sensation. One of them reached between the legs from behind of the guy who fucked the naughty one and played with the balls that became increasingly tighter and tighter, soon to be unloaded. 

What a spectacle, Marco thought, such creativity, they seemed very capable. These were no ordinary boys who dealt with an ordinary itch in the groin.

“Not bad. You have improved. Now squeeze the butt as we discussed, deep inside, hold him steady, command his desires for your body.” A seventh person instructed the boy on his back. This person had stood out of sight until then. He must have been inside the barn before the guys arrived, Marco thought, as he tried to find a new angle to see the seventh man. 

“Yes, allow him to fully feel the warmth and heartbeat from your intimate parts, and look back at him with an extra innocent, yet rebellious look. Yes, your cheeks are blushed your forehead wet. Rather nice, now move, wave and flex you buttocks, keep him on that invisible leash. Your goal is double marathon, no less.” 

Mitya! The instructor walked into view. His words were wise and precise, he gave the four young men who had started the evening routine on all fours detailed advice on how to make the two men above feel all kinds of wonderful things. And he too wore nothing but a thin shirt that barely covered his cresting buttocks. 

Marco yelped, and had it not been for the moaning inside the barn, he would have been overheard. It was him. Just like in the pictures from the hotel lobby… well, only even more attractive now that his pretty and sweet parts were all exposed. Come on you Russian fucker, turn around so I can see your ass completely, Marco reflexively thought, before the cock ring managed to bring him back to his senses.

It now made sense. These six boys were the ripples. No wonder I had felt that extra urge to follow and watch, Marco reasoned. They were extraordinary because clearly they were trained by the master to attract, seduce, please and command from the bottom. I mean, just look at it, Marco thought, as he watched one of the top guys fall on his back, his dick ridden furiously by one handsome muscular guy, while another guy served up his sweet ass to the mouth of the top guy who ate, kissed and licked frenetically. This was body and spirit working their magic.

Mitya continued to walk around the six young men, while he instructed them. Marco felt frustrated by that he was not given the direct unobstructed view of Mitya’s ass. Still, a plan began to take form. Clearly this barn was a hiding place. Sooner or later the six young men would squirt their loads and leave — return home for a night of wonderful sleep in each other’s loving embrace. Then Mitya would be exposed to attack.

Mitya was very athletic and undoubtedly able to fight back. Those butt cheeks were not just heaven for fucking, they generated a great deal of force too, Marco analyzed. He likely knew martial arts as well, he would be flexible and quick, able to evade and block attacks. Still, Marco was taller, heavier and with more muscles. Add an element of surprise and that cute face, pretty ass, stiff nipples, firm belly and well-aimed dick will be under my command very soon, Marco estimated.

Loudly the boys inside began to groan. Mitya had intervened and made sure the sex act did not create permanent damage. From the various stimulations, the men felt their powerful orgasms — asses convulsed, dicks pumped, hearts raced. Soon they were all huddled together, while they kissed, hugged and smiled. Mitya inspected them with a certain pride.

He suddenly turned around and stared at the door of the barn. For the first time Marco got the view he wanted. It was just so exquisite. It was unreal. That butt… Marco heard his own blood pump in the ears.

The door to the barn was kicked open. Through the door eight soldiers with machine guns rushed in. They shouted and screamed and aimed their guns at the naked men inside. Anger, hate, disgust flowed in with the cold night air. 

After the soldiers had entered and forced the naked men up against a wall, an anemic guy entered, eyes baggy and he oozed of hate. The secret police no doubt.

He looked at the seven men, then fixed his dead eyes on Mitya.

“Agent Gyacinth… more fucked than ever — not in the dirty way you like it though.”

Marco was frozen in his position outside the barn wall, his trousers still below the knees. Do not move… 

“You traitor. Our leader Stalin, dead because of you. Do not pretend. The facts are set. You have spent too much time with Western, capitalist, swine dick inside you. Polluted! The material conditions of your body ruined your spirit, the dialectic is evident. Now you will die. Next week your corpse will hang from a bridge in Moscow to show what treason leads to.”

“So be it… but let these six men leave unharmed. Let them live and do good in the world” Mitya responded, his voice and pose showed no sign of fear, anxiety or surprise.

“For what reason should I do that?”

“Your humanity? Your manly honour? Your appreciation for masculine beauty and strength?”

The dead-eye agent laughed a contemptuous laugh.

“This is my offer: swallow the rat poison in this bottle, no karate tricks. Then I give your six fuck buddies one minute head start before I let my soldiers go after them. Maybe the butt-boys will live, if their strength amounts to more than perky asses for degenerates to probe. If not, I will happily send them to Siberia.”

“Let my men go to the door. Honour the agreement, and I will take the poison, no tricks, and you will earn your medal. I have played my part in this miserable world anyways, why prolong.” Mitya seemed tired, resigned, even depressed.

The secret police shouted commands to the six young men, still wearing nothing but thin shirts. Mitya looked at them as they stood by the door, and he said: “be thrifty and survive as strong men in the world wherever your paths take you”. The six men ran swiftly out into the dark, propelled forward by athletic bodies, soon on secrets paths in the woods only mountain people, ancient people, were familiar with. If they avoided capture in the next hour, they would blend in and disappear in their varied habitat.

Mitya lifted the bottle to his lips. He uttered a silent prayer. He swallowed the poison.