Thanks for the great pics, Bux.
I think I found another page from the 'Unbelievable Adventures of Bux'
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>> Hey thanks for the new pic, Hun.
Here is a tall tale to go with it...
Wing Commander Basil de Nithingur [D.S.O.] was a decorated and highly respected English fighter pilot who had requested special duty flying with the American Airforce based in UK, in 1944. His upper class very wealthy family connections guaranteed his desire was granted, quickly. And grumpy old Churchill publicly promoted the transfer as great co-operation between the Allies fighting and bombing the hated 'Hun' across the blood filled English Channel.
Nithingur was a strong handsome womanising devil who now led American P-51 Mustangs escorting huge formations of B-17 Flying fortress bombers deep over Germany's industries and cities.
After a few months Allied Inteligence were worried: nearly every mission that Nithingur flew with had been accurately ambushed by massive waves of Luftwaffe fighters; the shattered bombers suffering very heavy losses. How did the Germans know exactly when to strike?
And alarmed reports filtered in from other pilots who claimed that Commander Nithingur was turning away from dogfights, making feeble excuses about faults with his plane, and he had not shot down even 1 german plane, confirmed, despite his flambouyant claims of bagging several hun every mission.
So They called me in.
[ I had just finished torturing a big handsome arogant top German U-boat commander: I soon had him squealing like a whimpering pig, begging my cold naked beauty for mercy. He told us many secrets about new advanced subs and torpedos, hidden bases and supply ships.]
Posing as a long legged busty night club Dancer...
I easily attracted the randy charms and plentyful cash of confident Basil Nithingur. I asked him for a special ride in the air: so he took me up over Sherwood forest in a special 2 seater fighter [used for training].
I flirted with him for 5 minutes: letting his hand roam all over me while he kept a firm grip on his joystick control.
I actually fancied his strong animal magnetism so after we landed I tested his powers of lust at my Hotel.
He was very charming and nice until after the dirty deed was done. He had been a strong exciting lover, which I very much enjoyed like the feral cat that I really was.
But afterwards, as I laid back in naked purring satisfaction, his mood changed completely and the real monster emerged.
He grabbed my long hair and tried to slap my face and punch my body. But he was very shocked when I reacted so fast and expertly blocked his attempted blows: I quickly had kicked him off me and from the hard floor he snarled and swore at me with furious anger.
His nasty vile swear words were in fluent German.
As he stared fearfully down the barrel of my small gun, I kicked him very hard and he yelped in agony while curled up clutching his private parts.
"You evil bastard. You will not beat up any more young women."
I laughed loud as I left the room carrying all my clothes and his clothes too.
I was told that he hired 2 ruthless gangster thugs to find me: but I had disappeared back into the deep abyss of the secret world of espionage.
A few days later, during his next training mission high over the cold North Sea, his plane suddenly fell silently out of the sky: he could not parachute out because his canopy had been secretly jammed locked by the smiling new flight engineer.
That handsome Engineer was smiling wildly as he 'bonked my brains out' in my hotel bed: he was a good agent friend of mine; well we had to gab our pleasure while we could in those dangerous days.
Those US bomber formations had no more big surprise ambushes, but they still suffered high losses because the policy of daylight bombing was suicidal stupidity.
Later Churchill aranged to decorate and thank me in secret. I had endured him once before, so when he tried to give me a full slobbering kiss and grab my ass, I deftly jerked away and 'accidentally' kneed him in his old bollocks.
I pretented it was a sneezing attack of Hay Fever, and profoundly apologised as I skipped out for my imaginary medicine.
I heard old Winston groan on the floor behind me "Tis alright my dear, no big harm done."
He feebly tried to laugh it off.
But I laughed louder and longer.
[ from the 'Unbelievable Adventures of Bux' - volume 27b ]
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> Glad you are enjoying my variety of pics & fun in here.