The Red Fever

Tuya Ganbataar gently ran her finger's through her tail gunner's hair as they lay in their cot. The lovely Mongolian pilot's almond colored pussy quivered as Yana's tongue slid slowly along the inside of her lips, casually passing over her tender clit. It was still early morning, and the Night Witches wouldn't be flying anytime soon. Tuya and Yana had been lovers since the days of pilot school, inseparable since their time together enduring the hellish Escape and Evasion course. Neither woman ever wanted to be touched by a man after that, and sought comfort in each other's embrace. Yana smiled up at her as Tuya began to pull on her thick, rubbery nipples atop pert, athletic breasts.

Tuya's toes curled along Yana's bare back as the Georgian girl's finger slid into her. She brought a finger to her lips and bit it, suppressing a moan as to not disturb the girl in a neighboring bunk. Yana slid up her body, her own full, pale breasts sliding up the taught abdomen of the shorter girl until their lips met in a passionate kiss. Their bodies writhed quietly as each let their hands roam freely over their lover's body until fingers found a warm, waiting entrance.

Suddenly, the horn blared. Both girls gasp as the other slid their fingers in simultaneously. Yana giggled, kissed the girl again, and hopped out of bed. It was rare to conduct attacks in the daytime, but the infamous 46th Guards Night Bomber Regiment flew whenever the Bloc needed them. They dressed quickly. Tight leather pants, tall, fur trimmed boots, leather jerkin, goggles, and aviation helmets were being donned all throughout the barracks as Regiment Commissar Rachkevich, an absolute legend among them and the first female graduate of the Lenin-Political Military Academy, otherwise known as the Commissariat, strode through the room.

"Up, ladies! Its time to fly!" she bellowed from her thick body. Rachkevich swatted the bare ass of a lanky blonde girl as she made her way through the ranks, eliciting a smile and giggle from those around her. The former janitor from a small village in from the South inspired her furies like no other.

They rushed out of the barracks and onto the tarmac to their "Witch's Brooms", the Polikarpov U-4 bomber. It was much improved from old U-2s, but still boasted its traditional "cropduster" bi-plane design and almost silent engines. This one, however, wasn't merely a single seat glider limited to a two bomb payload or a top speed that could be outran by a motorcycle; but rather had a new engine design with a "burst" mode to get them away from the much more advanced Stadti AA guns. Gone was the old wood and canvas construction, which had helped them keep a low radar profile in the past, in favor of newer, lightweight composite material that achieved the same effect.

Tuya and Yana climbed into their plane, pausing briefly for another kiss before settling in and beginning their pre-flight rituals. Yana checked the bay controls while Tuya ran through her engine checks. Satisfied, the plane taxied onto the runway and joined with the other two bombers of their group, for a total of 9 planes for the mission.

...................................

The Red Fever was spreading. It was an odd thing, and none of the other Great Armies had anything quite like it. They felt it in Petrograd, in Kursk, in Moscow. A euphoria was rising as they marched. Supply wagons began to roll out to meet the men as word traveled quickly. Girls were snatched up for a hard kiss and smack on the ass as these ragged men girded themselves for war, each new block they passed attracting more and more onlookers. Window shutters were opened as curious onlookers poked their heads out, some to grab their own rifles and join the march.

Sophia arrived at the old Metro station, and was pleased to see the mechanics had brought up 25 T-88 "Ural sidecar motorcycles, the successor to the old T-72s of her youth. With a smile, she walked over to the lead cycle, and straddled the dark green and black beast. It had a V-Shaped armored plate to protect the driver, and the new 3/4th enclosed armored sidecar with a mounted RPD 7.62 x 54r drum fed machine gun.

She settled her bare sex onto the smooth, cold leather seat, and motioned with her head for Fedir to join her. With another wicked grin, he hopped in the side car, slammed a drum into the mag well, and racked the bolt. Soon, she was leading the men in a wedge shaped formation, going slow enough that they could ride one the four O-279 Tanks that were now accompanying her. She had to remember to thank that ginger haired kid properly later, she thought to herself.

Once they were all mounted, Sophia picked up the radio and turned to address the company. "Onward." she said, and opened the throttle. The windows shook and the street signs rattled as the hodgepodge mechanized **** roared down the streets of Moscow, aimed at a point on the map known locally as the "Butcher's Bucket." She didn't know how many of them, or ever if she herself, would survive this, but she was a Commissar, and led from the front.