Unlikely Meeting
Warning : This story involves two male Furry characters in a sexual setting, as well as a very small bit of violence and gore. If such material offends you, you are not of legal age, or if it is illegal to read such material where you live, then please turn back now. Otherwise, continue, enjoy, and have fun!
1942, that's a year this Pinscher will never forget. Never in my life have I ever seen so much carnage, and the unspeakable horrors that my people were a part of. It started with my Father, a vivid Nazi supporter. On the night of my 19th birthday he told me 'Aldrik, you are my only son, but I know you believe not in the future the Nazi party can give us. A troop is here now, looking for new recruits. Either you will join, or I will kill a traitor to Germany.' Being the coward that I am, I chose to join.
Shortly after we left my home town, along the way we were "trained", an experience that left me with fresh scars, and a nick in my ear. It wasn't but a few months when we saw our first combat, it was against Russians, god knows who they were or where they came from. We had them cornered, and I was ordered to shoot on sight. There was moment, a boy no older than eight, was fleeing. His head turned, our gaze met.
My commander was barking; "Shoot, kill him!", I froze. It was like seeing a mirror image of myself, a mirror of fear. A clash and a searing pain in my arm, the boy had shot at me and grazed my arm, to afraid to make a second shot he ran. I aimed, and pulled the trigger. In an instant, half of his head burst apart, and his brains spattered onto the ground.
I was hit across the maw with the but of a gun for hesitating to follow orders, something you're usually killed for. But my commander was impressed with my aim, and good shooters were needed for the front. Over the next year I became more angry, hating the life I was forced into. But I stayed as close to my morals as I could. Enemy Solders I would shoot to kill, but the innocent, the young. For them I always had the...misfortune to miss.
But the end to that life was close to being done. 1942. What a year. We were in a major battle against the Americans back at my home town. Not even my commander at the time could tell who was winning, the only thing that was certain was the amount of death. The air was filled with a honorable stench, and the ground was soaked with the blood and gore of fallen men. It was chaos, there was no order, just every man for themselves.
I had ran into a small secluded cave, the same that I use to play in as a pup, to hide from the bullets and avoid the mortars. For a few moments I had thought that I was alone, but a soft grunt proved me wrong. Cautiously I searched around, my gun held high and ready to fire. I had found another occupant, and his situation shocked and surprised me.
He was American, an unfamiliar breed of Dog with grey fur and dark grey muzzle, no older than what I was. He was furiously trying to paw off, but to no avail. It was a practice that I myself had done before, a last ditch chance to try and escape the surrounding horrors, if not but for a moment. But his efforts was getting him nowhere, I could tell that he was to afraid, to on edge.
I stepped closer, and rocks shifted. The American's eyes flashed open, and his paw franticly searched for his own weapon. For the first time in a while, I was faced with a conflict of interests. Do I follow my instincts or my brain? I chose to follow what I felt.
"It's alright, I won't hurt you." I said, but we spoke two very different tongues. He had found his weapon, but it had gotten caught on the cave wall. I lowered my gun, and at last he had freed his. We were at a standstill, he kept on repeating something, but I couldn't understand. But I did understand the fear that filled his eyes.
I made a hushing sound, and eased my gun down onto the ground. This eased him a bit, but he was still distraught. What I was doing was against everything I was taught, everything. But something told me that this was right, that it was needed. And I wanted it.
I slowly eased up again, and pointed at the Dog's member, "I want to help."
The language barrier now being blunt, I pointed from my maw to his groin, and back again. He too was feeling a conflict, and I could see it in his face. Will he shoot me, or give in? Maybe it was luck, hormones, or a mutual understanding, but he lowered his gun and nodded.
I drew closer, and knelled down. His member had retreated back into his sheath, but I could still make out his knot. His musk was overpowering, a scent that drove my instincts even more. I gave the sheath a light lick, and felt the hidden contents twitch. I slowly licked around the furry prison, and carefully explored his fuzzy sack. I could hear him growl softly as his canine cock emerged once more.
Slowly exploring up, my tongue traced over his knot, and caught a small stream of precum. At least I knew I was doing something right. At last I reached the tip, and took a chance. I took it all, the entire thing, all the way into my muzzle. For this I was rewarded with a gasp and a paw placed onto the back of my head. The paw became more caring and compassionate as I started to work up and down the length.
Truth be told, I had done this before, but with no one else. Even when I was younger I was gifted with great flexibility. What I had learned then was being put to use now. But I had to be cautious. I wanted to do more, offer more. But even now the situation was chaotic. Keeping with my rhythm, I looked up at the American.
If he wasn't enjoying himself, then he was a good actor. His head was held high and his tongue was hanging out from the side. He looked down and said something, the tone hinted at his pleasure. With a grin I increased my pace, letting my tongue tease and my maw's roof do it's wonders. Taking a chance, I moved one of my paws to the Dog's jewels.
It took him by surprise, but not in a negative way. They were large, and heavy, he hadn't released in quite a while. His breath was growing baited, and his growls became louder. I could feel his sack starting to clench up, and his paw starting to clench. Things were about to get messy.
With a restrained howl he went over the edge, waves upon waves of his seed filled my maw. I tried to swallow as much as I could, but there was so much. Some shot down my throat, while some leaked out of my maw. When he had finished, I eased back and cleaned what I had missed, resulting in some entertaining twitches from the American.
When I had finished, I sat back, and we stared at each other, neither one of us knowing what to do next. After a moment he had said something, pointed to an aching bulge in my pants. I looked into his eyes, they still had a bit of fear in them, but curiosity, and something else. With hope, I nodded, and he drew closer.
With great care, he undid my pants and freed my begging Doghood. With one paw he griped my knot, causing me to gasp. He set to work, softly licking my shaft all over, and grazing the tip. I gave a begging whimper, desperately wanting something more than a tease. That's when he went down, and my world began to spin.
He was good, a lot better than what I was with myself. He used is tongue similar to how I used mine, but he would lift his muzzle for short moments to lick around the tip and lowering again. His paws were more adventurous, his free one had reached it's way up underneath my shirt and caressed my nipples. The feeling was unbelievable, I was still afraid, and very well aware that he could kill me at any moment, but it all threw me into a world of ecstasy.
I had reached the edge, and with one fell flick of his tongue I went over. My own seed filled his maw as my moans echoed through the cave. When I had finished I was warm and at peace, but my thoughts and memories flooded back, I lost control of my own feelings. To both our surprise, I started to cry. I felt his paw touch the edge of my face, his eyes was filled with wonder and concern.
How could I explain to someone who didn't understand what was going on here in Germany, much less who spoke a completely different language? I ached though, and did the only expression I could think of.
"No!" I shouted, and pointed at the swastika on my arm, "No! I hate it! I don't want to be it!" I tried to rip it off, but to no avail, and more tears flowed down my snout. I knew the only thing the American understood was 'No', but he seemed to understand. He wiped away my tears, and embraced me in a hug. We stayed like this (after we redid our pants, of course) for most of the night.
1942...who knew that such an unlikely meeting would happen. When I awoke he was gone, and so to was my gun. I moved to get up, but men stormed in, shouting and aiming their weapons at me. One voice stood out, it was him, the Dog! He talked with his superior, and they lowered their weapons. A solder came to me, and to my surprise he spoke German.
"What is your name and rank?"
"Aldrik, Lieutenant."
"How did you come to be here?"
I told him everything, fighting to keep my composure and from letting loose tears again. He translated to the commander, and translated something back.
"We're going to take you as a prisoner of war, but you'll be alright if you cooperate."
"Alright, sir? I want to help in anyway I can."
"We'll see what can be done, please come with us."
Being a prisoner was the best thing that could have ever happened to me, I spent about a week with that company, and learned that my companion's name was Timothy Green. I was transfered to England where I was questioned and kept for the next couple of years. Over that time, I learned English fairly well. After the war, I was released, and to my surprise Timothy was there to greet me.
It was a horrible year, but it was a year where my life changed forever, and I found someone who I would stay with for the rest of my life.
Hello, me again. This one was a bit more tougher to write, trying to stay in first person. I may of overdone "I" a lot >.>. I might do another story from the American's point of view, but I'm not sure yet. Lots of ideas, and not a lot of time -_-.