Pieter Kohler

Reinhardt the Soldier

The Thai waitress he had met at the restaurant was small and tight, and it did hurt her initially to adjust to his cock. He was gentle, helping her get used to his length, girth and glass-breaking hardness, but soon primitive fuck lust overwhelmed him and he forced his way in. Reinhardt could almost feel her body swell like a rubber raft getting pumped with air. A strange sound erupted out of her throat, between scream and laughter, as if she reacted to conflicting states of desire. 

Reinhardt wondered if she had rape fantasies, which he had happily helped a few of his male and female clients to fulfill. Of course, everyone denied they harboured such feelings. Never debating the point, he just fucked the way his clients paid him to, regardless of the fantasy. He charged both according to time and scenario. She moaned and cried both yes and no in one syllable, then clung to him, her legs scarcely able to wrap around his broad back as the masterful cock plunged and thrust until it was ready to unload ropes of alpha spunk, so much that it seeped out. 

He didn’t wear a condom; he was disease free and had no anxieties about the cunt he was now fucking. She was clean and, she had assured him, it was okay because; she was on the pill. Not that he gave a shit about any pregnancy. Her womb, her problem. He had no paternal desires or fantasies.

Over the past two days, stopping for delivery pizza and toilet breaks, he had fucked her, not quite to death but close to it. He had lapped and eaten her cunt until his jaw got sore and he became bored. She was limited in her experience, unable to deepthroat, and prone to whimpering and going limp like an exhausted doll. He didn’t even attempt breaking into her ass, nor did she wish to lick his. 

Business now demanded his attention, and he had appointments to make up for lost custom. He paid for a cab to drive her home. She insisted on giving him her phone number. Once she left, he tore it up. Already he had forgotten her name. Taking a shower and dressing in a soldier’s uniform according to the wishes of the clients he was seeing this evening, Reinhardt fondled his dick, feeling it get hard over the cash he’d be earning later in his role as the couple’s demanding and merciless bull.

***

Reinhardt entered the kitchen through the garage door and, as instructed by text, she was on her hands and knees, completely naked. Without removing his leather bomber jacket or army boots, he simply knelt behind her, unzipped and plunged his hard cock into her wet cunt, labial lips already swollen and glistening from the fingering he had ordered her to do before he arrived. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and leaning over her back he fucked, not saying a word. He wrapped an arm around her neck and pushed her flat on the floor and still fucked her from behind. He told the husband to sit on a kitchen chair in front of her and watch her face, her eyes, and listen to her moaning as she got fucked by a soldier, rape-fucked by a soldier, the realization of her fantasy played out when her husband, who could not satisfy her, was forced to watch.

While boning her, Reinhardt ordered her to tell her husband what she was: “I’m your fuckmeat. I’m your private cunt, your pussy pet, I want your cock, I want you to fuck me, yes, fuck, fuck your little slut bitch slave, fuck me like a slut.” Reinhardt fucked her while still fully clothed and booted, except he had pulled his fatigues down below his knees, and the piece of married fuckmeat was naked on the floor panting and moaning, all the while her eyes blazing directly at her husband, although Reinhardt didn’t think she was in a full state of consciousness. The husband’s own cock was getting hard and he also wanted to fuck her face, but dared not move without his bull soldier’s permission. His own fantasy involved getting fucked and beaten by a soldier, maybe two. Reinhardt thought he could arrange that scenario with a buddy and charge a few hundred euros extra.

Reinhardt suddenly pulled out and dug into her cunt with the fingers of his right hand, pushing them all in, and slowly fist-fucked her until she cried for mercy, and tears of pain-pleasure spurted out her eyes, her mouth wide open. He withdrew his soaking hand and made her lick her juices off his fist. Then he rolled over on the floor and told her to suck his dick, still hard and glistening wet from her cunt gushing all over it, and she buried her head in his groin, slurping and moaning, her body writhing. The husband wanted so badly to fuck her but wasn’t allowed to. Reinhardt pushed her away and ordered her to straddle him, one leg on either side of his waist, her knees resting on his open bomber jacket, his hands digging into her thighs, as she lowered herself on his huge dick, her eyes glazed open, bucking up and down as she jiggled and wiggled on his cock. The husband was still wearing his clothes, his cock hard as all fuck and straining under his pants. He asked: please, Sir, may I fuck her, too?

But Reinhardt didn’t at that time give permission. Only to watch and do what he was told.

Her fantasy, her craving, was to be treated like a bitch slave, to submit to an alpha soldier and fulfill her masochistic fantasies, she trusted Reinhardt because he was safe, discreet, and knew how to realize her deepest darkest desires. And she had read and believed the glowing reports of satisfied clients on his personal website. She wanted a brutal edge to it all, wanted her bull to pummel and fuck her into submission and to come to the hard thrusting of a soldier’s big cock. He wondered if deep down she had a thing for Nazi cock and wondered for a moment if he should have dressed as a Sturmfuhrer. His big cock, thicker than her wrist and long enough to push into the depth of her womb and unload rich, life-giving German seed. Yeah, next time he’ll fuck dressed in a Nazi uniform. 

Later, after giving her a rest, while he stood against the counter, drinking a beer he got from the fridge, and staring at both husband and wife until he was ready, Reinhardt boned her against the kitchen table (her back was on the table, her legs around his waist, his fatigues down to his ankles and piled over his military boots. She moaned and screamed as he gave the bitch one last shove and pulled out, his cock squirting out a shower of man juice all over her husband’s face and shirt. The husband gasped and stuck out his tongue, trying to capture droplets of bull cum. 

Reinhardt exploded spunk and wanted to fuck again, an effect middle-aged married women often had on him. His cum shot out in powerful streams. Especially if they were rich dissatisfied bitches hankering after a real man and craved some rough action. The wife and husband would do anything Reinhardt wanted; he understood that. Look at the guy gathering spunk on his fingers and licking them off. This first session gave him all the info he needed about how far he could go with them. 

Reinhardt stirred, his cock still resting on the vaginal lips soaked with cum. He wiped himself with a tea towel covered with a picture of Prince William and Kate. “Don’t forget to put this in the laundry.” He rubbed it against her husband’s. Then he lifted her off the counter and sat her over his lap on a chair, so close to the husband that he could see his cock hard beneath his pants, and slap his face without moving from his position, if he wanted to. Not yet. Not too much too soon. The wife’s head hung towards the floor, her fine ass ready for use.

“What she wants is what the cunt gets,” Reinhardt had explained to the husband when they had met at the restaurant a while back, Reinhardt having answered the husband’s online ad for a bull to fulfill his wife’s fantasies, and his, and to fuck his wife while he watched. A rough kind of no-nonsense soldier preferred, they both desired. They didn’t want romance.

“She wants rough play, and she gets it. I never do what a cunt doesn’t want. But I can make them want what they didn’t even know they wanted, if you get my meaning.” 

And the husband had also said something about serving, eventually, when he got used to the idea. Reinhardt knew the husband would crawl, beg, and lick his soldier’s boots before getting slapped around and fucked by a man in military uniform, Nazi or not. The hard dick in the husband’s pants and the animal sounds he was making as he watched his wife gave Reinhardt all the information he needed. One day the husband would suck him dry in front of the wife, and become his obedient, cock sucking cuckold, and pay handsomely for the privilege, but first things first. And, of course, the beating the cuck craved at the hands of a soldier. There was money to be made here.

“Now this little cunt wants the slap of a hand on her ass. So, I oblige.”

And he began slapping her ass hard in the kitchen, four stinging reddening smacks. She moaned aloud. “It’s interesting, really, how slapping a firm ass makes the pussy get wetter and wetter until my bitch cunt is moaning and begging for a fuck. Sure, the hand gets a little sore, but what a beauty those red cheeks are, and how easily the fingers slip in her cunt. The good part about spanking is that it lubricates the vagina so my hand can slide in and out easily without causing pain, but she sure feels my fist fucking her. See?”

And he inserted all five fingers in her widening cunt, in and out, staring at the husband all along.

“It’s a pleasure to fist fuck a pussy and hear all that deep breathing and panting and moaning and feel her body buck up to the wrist deep inside her cunt.”

She was begging him to stop in a voice thick with lust, which meant she was begging for more. Reinhardt pulled the hand out, raised it to show the husband how wet it was. He put his hand in front of the husband’s mouth and allowed him to lick her juices off the fingers, practically gobbling as if inflamed by the taste of her bull. His bull, too. Then Reinhardt returned his attention to his wife and probed her pussy with his fingers and said that it belonged to him, just like her mouth belonged to him, and she was his property, all of her, her cunt and ass and mouth were his personal property. All her holes would be used by his bull cock.

“Aren’t they, bitch?”

He made her nod her head in agreement. Ecstasy burned in her eyes, the glow of her body from intense satisfaction and release. 

“See, she likes it, Just the way you want and need it, too, don’t you? 

And he was speaking directly to the husband, who panted on the kitchen chair, so close to Reinhardt that he could smell the odour of fuck sweat and see a stream of cum still leaking out of his wife’s cunt.

“Aah …mmm…I mean yes, yes…”

“Yes, what, cocksucker?”

And Reinhardt slapped the husband’s face, who, face blazing, whimpered.

“Yes, Sir, oh yes, please, Kommandant, fuck me.”