I thought that joining the Soviet Army would be good for me, train me to become a man; I was wrong. I was only Paul Alexsander Droyovich, a frighte...ed, desperate boy, now on the run from the Soviet Army. I had wanted, more than anything in the world, to be a concert pianist. There was very little call for that in the Red Army! With only four kilometers to the Czechoslovakian border, the farmer's cart I had hidden in was stopped by an early border patrol; luckily for me, I escaped. He had beaten her and her face was swollen. "Mister, does that woman belong to you?" I asked not being able to tolerate a man beating a woman very well."I am free," the woman gasped.The man turned to slap her. "Mister, if she isn't yours, I can't let you beat her."He pulled a knife and threatened, "Put your nose back where it belongs, boy." Let her go," I said. I pulled my revolver from my holster.He let go of her hair. She started crawling away. When I glanced at her, he threw his knife. It. Once again she was hurt in an unusual way by the change, and again, she felt that pain overridden by the bliss that she got from these wonderful tendrils. The tendril stopped its growth and she slowly grew accustomed to the girth. As the tendril pumped her harder she felt another orgasm coming relentlessly. With a loud, resounding moan she came again, her pussy clenching around the tendril. She had often wondered what her first time would be like, she had often imagined that her first time. ”Matti just shook his head sadly and continued, “I have seen absolute proof that she was involved with them. She was particularly involved with the man who intended to kill me, Dog Fontaine. Not once did she ever hint that she knew who he was. I am certain that she was just trying to get information from me about the money that Fontaine came looking for. When we started getting involved, she would often bring up the subject of the money when we were out at the lake, obviously trying to get me.