Frontline Love
FRONT-LINE LOVE
(From Private Histories of the Civil War)
Part 1.
Lieutenant Topolev was writing a letter to his friend Staff Captain Frolov, who served at the regimental headquarters, in his tent when Sergeant-Major Dunin barged in and reported that the patrol had caught two Reds.
"Well, why did they drag them here?" the lieutenant asked lazily. "Should have finished them on the spot."
"Who the hell knows, Your Honor. Maybe they'll say something important if we interrogate them."
"Alright, bring them in. Let's have a look at them." The lieutenant pushed the written sheet of paper and the inkwell aside and turned on his stool towards the tent entrance.
Dunin shoved
two completely naked youths inside and said:"Take a look, Your Honor."
The lieutenant stood up, carefully examined the two naked lads, and, knowing a thing or two about male beauty, noted to himself that the one with dark hair clearly deserved attention. The youths stared dumbly at the ground, covering their manhood with their hands.
"And why are they naked, brother?"
"The patrol caught them when they were washing in the river," Dunin replied. "That's how they brought them in. But they took the horses, weapons, and clothes with them."
"Well, and who are you, gentlemen?" asked the lieutenant, putting a stern note in his voice.
"Your Honor, sir lieutenant! We were mobilized, not of our own free will," said the one Topolev had his eye on. "We graduated from high school last year."
"When speaking to an officer, keep your hands at your sides. Didn't the commissars teach you that?" The youths snapped to attention and dropped their hands to their sides, ceasing to cover their loins. Now the lieutenant could get a good look at what was between the youths' legs.
"Surname?" Topolev asked the dark-haired one.
"Georgy Minskoy, sir lieutenant. My father was an Actual State Councilor, he headed the chancellery for the Tobolsk Governor-General."
"So you're from Tobolsk?"
"Yes, sir, sir lieutenant."
"And how long have you been here, I mean on this sector of the front?"
"Only three months. After we were mobilized, two weeks of training and then here, as ones not yet under fire."
"And, I suppose, you saw the Sovereign Emperor in Tobolsk?" the lieutenant inquired.
"Yes, sir, we saw him. At first, the August Family walked around the city. Then the regime of Their Majesties' confinement was tightened, and they were no longer let out of the yard. Later we saw them being taken away from Tobolsk under heavy guard."
"Probably not lying. That's what they wrote in the papers later," thought the lieutenant. "And the youth is simply a find here at the front."
"Well now, and you, young man, who are you?" Topolev addressed the second youth, who looked simpler, with hair the color of ripe wheat.
"Vladimir Pavlov, sir lieutenant. My father is the director of the Tobolsk High School, State Councilor Pavlov Svyatoslav Yegorovich."
"Sir lieutenant," Minskoy addressed the lieutenant. "Don't shoot us. We want to serve the White cause, but we just couldn't cross the front line. We'll serve faithfully and truly, Your Honor."
"Perhaps I should keep them," thought Topolev. "We can always shoot them later. And I need an orderly. Let Minskoy be that. And he has a nice little ass, and the sparkle in his eyes speaks of temperament."
"Alright, you can stay. We'll register you as volunteers. But, look, if anything goes wrong – execution on the spot. Dunin, put them on rations and issue them uniforms."
"Yes, sir, Your Honor," Dunin boomed in reply. "And where should I assign them, if you please?"
Topolev thought for a moment, though he had already decided everything for himself: "So, Minskoy to me as an orderly, and let Pavlov be with the kitchen for now. About face! For-ward march!"
He sat down to finish the letter to Frolov.
"... Just now a curious incident occurred. My patrol captured two Red high school students. One is a decent-looking lad, I assigned him to me as an orderly. My former one broke his leg falling from a horse and is now lying in your hospital. And I, as you understand, have been fasting for two weeks. I hope the new orderly will replace him in my pleasures. Well, until we meet, dear friend. Tomorrow I'll send you this missive along with the report. Until we meet, I embrace you and shake your hand, your friend Topolev."
The lieutenant's relationship with the ensign did not work out. On the first evening, drinking to their acquaintance, Topolev hinted to the artilleryman about possible intimate relations – he liked such young, so to speak, youths with bright blush on their plump cheeks. But the ensign sharply cut off such hints and clearly made it understood to the lieutenant that he preferred sexual relations only with the opposite sex. Topolev had to turn it all into a joke, but it came out rather clumsy and crude. Now they communicated only on official matters and tried not to see each other often.
An hour later, Minskoy appeared, in a new uniform and worn-out boots.
"What are your orders, sir lieutenant?" Topolev inquired about his handwriting and, receiving a satisfactory answer, tasked him with copying the report to headquarters from the draft.
The orderly reported that supper was ready. Topolev took a bottle of French cognac from his campaign chest and poured it into two faceted shot glasses.
"Come on, Minskoy, to service and mutual understanding." They drank and went to have supper.
After supper, comfortably settled in the tent, Topolev lit a cigarette.
"What did you get the St. George Cross for, sir lieutenant?" Minskoy inquired.
"For the Brusilov Offensive and for capturing a staff colonel. The Sovereign himself awarded it, that's how it was."
"Permission, Your Honor?" Dunin entered the tent. "The soldiers have heated the bathhouse. Would you care to visit?"
"Excellent, sergeant-major. Why not? Let's go, Minskoy, to our bathhouse, steam a little?" he addressed the orderly.
"As you order, sir lieutenant," Minskoy answered crisply. They took off their uniforms and in their underclothes headed to the bathhouse, which was built in a log dugout.
In the small anteroom, they stripped, and the orderly was pleasantly surprised by the size of his commander's penis. They took turns whipping each other with birch besoms and dousing themselves with cold water. The lieutenant asked Minskoy to give him a massage. The latter sat on his lower back and began clumsily kneading the muscles.
Topolev felt the touch of the orderly's member against his back. Then he asked him to massage his buttocks, and although Minskoy did it clumsily and timidly, the lieutenant became aroused by his actions.
Minskoy, massaging the hairy buttocks of his new commander, also felt a rush of blood to his own organ, which increased in size.
When they sat down on the bench, both were aroused, which even amused them. The lieutenant reached out his hand and began to touch the orderly's member. He, in turn, also began to caress the commander's organ.
"Do you understand anything about male love?" asked Topolev. Minskoy nodded affirmatively. "That's good. And do you like doing this?"
"Of course. I had a lover in high school. The Bolsheviks shot him, the bastards."
"I'll try to replace him for you," said Topolev and kissed the youth on the lips.
"I would be very glad of that, sir lieutenant," whispered Minskoy.
BERLI.