Missing old hot gay sexy stories from COXSWAIN on literotica? I don’t know why but All the stories were deleted along with the Author’s profile. I thought they were gone for good until I was able to bring back my old laptop hard disk back to life a few days ago. So Here goes the stories. Enjoy and Jerk off, More to cum in da future.
Big military cop learns the Army way to protect and serve
It all started with Kowalski in 1968, a year before I retired from the Army.
One of the men in Sergeant First-Class Kowalski’s platoon sent an anonymous note to the Military Police (the MPs) that he was a drug user, and as the senior MP detective, I got the order to shadow SFC Kowalski for a while to see if the note was genuine or just the chicken-shit backstabbing of a disgruntled GI.
Since Kowalski transferred in to Fort Garrison just two months earlier, the brass decided that he wouldn’t know I was an MP–I did mostly office work in the MP headquarters building, only car patrols at night, and the detective work was always in civilian clothes.
Kowalski, a platoon sergeant in an infantry company, would see through me as a “new recruit just assigned to his unit.” I was 38 and too fucking big. The plan was for me to be a trained, professional hand-to-hand combat specialist brought in by Battalion from Fort Bragg to put the edge on his troopers’ fighting skills.
That part would work: I already worked as the MP company’s physical training NCO–I guess because of my physique and the Korean Karate. I’d always been a “big guy,” and as an MP in Korea during the war and in South Korea after the armistice, I became a black belt in a Korean Karate school.
I’d always been able to take care of myself, though. As a kid nobody ever picked on me, I was always a linesman in school football, and since I’ve been an MP, any time we had a confrontation with a soldier caught stealing (or whatever), the perp always backed down when he looked up at me–I’m 6’4″.
And beside having the big genes, my first hobby, something I’ve done since childhood, was body-building. After more than 20 years of pumping iron, I weighed 285 pounds with a 57″ chest, 34″ waist, 22″ arms, 28″ thighs, and 20″ calves (I knew all those stats because I took part in a few body-building competitions).
They attached me to Kowalki’s platoon for two weeks to give his soldiers a karate class every day for two hours–and the rest of the time I was to watch Kowalski. One thing that bugged me about the assignment: keeping an eye on Kowalski 24/7 meant a great crimp in my social life.
I loved pussy. Not only did I have the big genes, many of my girls cooed at how I had the “big jeans.” Since my grade school years, my dick was always wet.
As early as the fifth grade–I was what, 11?–Miss Merston loved “the big kid” in her class so much she kept me after school many times. “Ooh, look at that big thing, Tommy!” By the time summer rolled around, that bitch gargled my jism as she went home at least 50 times. After her came the sixth grade and Miss Thompson. She actually had to drop out of school because I got her pregnant–and I was only 12.
By junior high the teachers were forewarned about me, but for many of them, forewarned was foreskinned. I got teacher-sex anytime I wanted it: the librarian in the library, the girl’s PE coach in the gym, the drama teacher on the stage–I even scored two male teachers, the boy’s PE coach knelt before me in the locker room, and the shop teacher sucked my dick as I leaned back on a workbench, each eager to prove that a man could give a blowjob as good as a woman’s.
And those were just the teachers.
As the only non-virgin in junior high, my reputation drew the bees to my honey. My second hobby became seeing how many virgins I could de-cherry, and as I graduated into high school, I had a harem of at least a dozen.
I hit puberty in high school, and my hormones started churning. By the time I graduated, I’d turned at least 20 girls into women–mostly cheerleaders from our school and a few from opposing teams. I’d secretly fathered five children, gotten three teachers forced to resign “for mental health reasons,” and I constantly got into fights with angry big brothers or fathers pissed off that their girls had come home crying that they weren’t “the only one for me.”
I always won, a good fighter even in those days, and most of my split-tail conquests kept quiet in the hope that I would marry them–or at least fuck them again.
In 1948 the Army drafted me, and I became an MP. I ended up liking the Army because I liked duty as a cop, I got to see the world, and my dick (again) was always wet–every other female I met–soldier or civilian–ended up up-ended and grunting to me to go faster.
So baby-sitting SFC Kowalski meant my unaccustomed balls had to go without the nightly unloading. I couldn’t beat the meat: it was a matter of pride; a man who jacked off was a man who couldn’t score, a hunter who couldn’t find his own venison.
I conducted the karate classes with the platoon in PE uniform–black shorts and the gray ARMY T-shirts. Everybody hit the showers afterward, then changed back into their fatigues. And since my “battalion assignment” was a surprise to Kowalski, my karate classes had to fit into the training schedule he already had. The only available time in his fully scheduled day was after the karate classes–we had the daily coordination briefings in the locker room. I discussed the next day’s training and the men’s progress every day with Kowalski as we stood together stark naked.
I think it began there.
Can’t figure out why, though. For hell’s sake, I had seen naked men before! I still lived in the barracks and saw a whole platoon of naked MPs every morning in the showers.
Kowalski’s platoon had a new barracks. New tiles in the latrine. Chrome pipes. Plenty of light. Different mood.
SFC Brent Kowalski was 10 years younger, a soft-spoken guy from Alabama with a magnolia accent and the lanky bod of a guy who’d spent a few years hopping from girder to girder as a riveter or welder in a Mobile shipyard. He was a good soldier. Knew the regulations. Paid attention to detail. Fair to his men.
But something else: he was handsome! Damn, he was good looking. Blond hair, blue eyes. Square, honest face and a quick smile–straight, white teeth. Even had that movie-star hole in his chin. A real nice guy, he was very easy to work with. Although firm and no-nonsense with his men, I never saw anybody maneuver his troops as easily as Kowalski did. No screaming, no yelling. He literally praised them into such pride they thought they could do anything! His men loved him and would walk over molten lava for him.
He had a good sense of humor. Made wise decisions. I figured he was trustworthy; couldn’t see him as a druggie. I liked Kowalski, and he liked me–he treated me with respect. In fact, I felt a little sheepish about snooping. I began to look around for whoever tried to fuck him with a note to the MPs.
I was a Master Sergeant–I outranked him–but I enjoyed his company, and I think he enjoyed talking to me. We kidded around, talked about old times, Army gripes.
And in the showers every afternoon after my class, slowly, gradually, almost before I knew it, I was watching him, but I mean watching. I looked forward to seeing him without his uniform. I was taller and bigger, but he had good, solid shoulders; hard, rounded pecs; and a washboard belly. Walking away, he displayed hard, rounded buns, each with that cute dimple.
But the front view was my favorite. Kowalski’s cock was a stunner. Bigger than mine. I out-muscled Kowalski in everything except between the legs. After our daily briefing on the karate class and after we took off our clothes, I wandered into the showers with him, still talking. Once under the sprays of water and washing up, I had to fight to keep my eyes off his crotch.
“Yep, and then the ol’ MP says to me, he says, ‘How come y’all gathered ’round heah? Y’all shootin’ craps?’ And Artelli, he says, ‘No, Sarge, we-all be playin’ Monopoly! Okay, I got Park Place and Boardwalk!’
“Can y’all believe it?”
We were both laughing so hard, we fell into each other’s arms for a moment, and we quickly shrugged back out of that, but for a moment I felt that huge dong bumping up against mine. God, what a thrill! But hey, what in fucking hell is happening to me?
Kowalski’s tawny skin contrasted erotically against the pale green tiled wall behind him, and the lights above cast shadows outlining every bulge and curve on his body. He looked as hot as a male stripper.
But was I so horny that I looked at Kowalski as a sex object, for god’s sake? That worried me. Being nailed as a faggot in the US Army in 1968 even beat out smoking a little dope: the Army would toss me out on my ass even if I didn’t get 20 years in Leavenworth.
So why in hell am I looking at a naked MAN in the Valley of the Shadow of Death when I’m the biggest motherfucker in the Valley?? This does it! I’ve got to get myself laid.
I had to admit it: Kowalski’s body was beautiful. And why not? It’s a creation of nature. Why should I be ashamed to appreciate a man’s body? As a body-builder I can see the art in a man’s physique.
The next afternoon in the showers, I stood there and let the water stream over my hair and down my back, trying to stop thinking about Kowalski and his big cock only two feet away. I opened my eyes and looked down–and there between my legs my own dick was hardening up.
I turned my head slightly and looked over at Kowalski. Luckily he was washing his face–eyes closed against the soap–so I could get a good look. His magnificent cock arched over his balls like a construction derrick.
I could almost feel it in my hand–wet and slippery but warm. Throbbing. Growing hard. Stop thinking this shit!
He grunted as he got a little soap in his eye (almost as if he could feel my hand). He wiped the water off his face, and his head began to turn–
–Zap! My head snapped back to stare straight at the wall in front of me. I was rock hard. Oh, shit! I can’t be caught in here with a stiff dick! In desperation, I gave my cockhead a mighty pinch–Yipe! That hurt!–but I felt it going down. Fuck, that was close!
In retreat I turned off the water, took my towel from the peg, and plodded back to my locker, drying myself. What the fuck is happening to me? Why am I so hot to look at Kowalski?
I pulled on my white Army boxers, green fatigue pants, my socks, and boots. As I laced them up, I fought to see some sense in it all: Okay, there is nothing wrong with appreciating a handsome, well-built man. It’s like art.
But I gulped. I knew that wasn’t all. I was fucking horny from not getting any sex for over a week, and–I had to admit it–I was turned on by the closest possible hole. I wanted to fuck Kowalski. I’d been blown by male teachers, but fucking a man was a sexual frontier I hadn’t conquered. Maybe I ought to do it.
But I bit my lip. Man-sex in the Sixties, particularly in the military, was maximum taboo. This “liking a man’s body” is out of control. Imagine me, the big guy, the stud–wanting to fuck a man. And something else–if he finds out that I’m a spook in his unit, writing up reports about him, we’re likely to get into a fight; at any rate, I’ll lose him as a friend.
I stared straight into the dark green locker. God, what am I going to do? As I sat dazed, pulling on the rest of my uniform, a string of naked men walked by to and from the showers. I glanced quickly at each one.
Suddenly from the corner of my eye, I spotted a huge cock, and I turned my head. A short young man slowly sauntered by, doing the usual naked strut with towel slung over his shoulder, consumed in his own thoughts, counting on his fingers–worrying about his income tax, maybe, or how many days leave he had coming.
But he was hung like a horse.
Forcing myself to control my thoughts, I realized his cock was actually only about as big as Kowalski’s cannon, but it looked so gigantic because of his smaller body. Then I glanced up. He was looking down at me, and we made eye contact. Oh shit.
I swear to God, that man looked into my eyes and past them into my brain, and I froze. After what felt like a goddamned minute staring into my eyes, he smiled.
He looked from side to side–we were alone. He looked back into my face, and his hand dropped to stroke his cock. Right there in front of me. Damn!
Naturally I watched. The young guy was a new recruit, no more than 19 or so. The sight of his hand stroking along the big cockshaft, the big thing arcing up from his crotch like a swan’s neck, and that huge, black, single eye hypnotized me into a statue.
Still grinning, he pulled back the foreskin, and I saw his cockhead glowing hot and radioactive. He moved so close I smelled it, that heavy, male scent, and my heart pounded!
He sat on the bench beside me. “Likin’ whatcha see, Sarge?”
I should’ve punched the impudent bastard’s lights out. Show him what disrespect to a noncommissioned officer meant. In any case I should’ve screamed his ear off and took his name to go on report.
But what came out was a nervous grunt. “Maybe.”
He looked from side to side again then grabbed my crotch and fondled the iron stake inside my fatigue pants. I didn’t stop him. Too astonished. “Yeah, Sarge, yer glad ta see me, ain’tcha?”
Before I could reply to that, he grabbed my hand and pulled it to his cock. Ohmigod! Another man’s cock. A first! Gripping it, feeling it, thrills shot up my arm like I grabbed an electric eel, and I trembled.
He moved his head close to mine, his voice low and deep: “I know whatcha need, Sarge. Wait fer me over at the Quartermaster warehouse. I got the keys. We kin be alone in there.” Then he got up, slung his towel around his hips, and sauntered off to his locker.
Ohmigod! He wants to be my next conquest! Am I going to make that little shrimp my first venture into fucking men?
I sat there, my mind buzzing. Okay, here it is, the perfect solution to get my rocks off! I stood up and walked out of the gymnasium, so confused and full of doubt, I almost staggered like a drunk. What do do, what to do? Do I really want to take this step? Add a male to my collection of bitches?
I tried to think coldly: Okay, the safest thing to do is just say fuck it, walk back to Kowalski’s platoon, and go about my job. Fucking around with males in the Army is like trying to smoke a dynamite stick.
Yeah, that’s it. This didn’t happen. None of this happened!
But the palm of my hand and my fingers still smoldered. I couldn’t shake the memory–and I had not been walking back to Kowalski’s platoon. I found myself in front of the Quartermaster warehouse.
The building was nothing to brag about, an old, derelict Quonset left over from construction many decades ago. Its corrugated tin roof was punctured and torn back, and many of the tin panels around the windows had been torn back by windstorms. All the glass was cloudy with smears of dirt, and I knew the atmosphere in the dump would be stuffy, dusty, everything coated with a layer of grit.
Oh, shit, oh, shit, do I really want to do this?? My heart pounded.
I walked up the steps onto the wooden loading dock. This is all going too fast! That little fucker was like a used car salesman throwing numbers at me until I couldn’t think straight! My cock was thinking for me, but I forced myself to do some cop-thought:
Okay, I’m going to go for it. If this little guy wants to suck my dick, if he wants me to fuck him, yeah, I’m going to do him. No witnesses, his word against mine, no possibility of a paternity quarrel. I knocked on the door.
“C’mon in, Sarge.”
I took another deep breath, gripped the door handle, and opened the door.
What I didn’t know was that on the other side, a step down to the floor of the warehouse was a good foot high, and jittery as I was, I lost my balance, stumbled, and fell forward. I caught myself with my outstretched hands, but on my hands and knees, I looked up at the young guy standing above me. His uniform had Corporal’s stripes and the nametag “PARKER.”
Parker’s pants and skivvies were already shucked down to his knees, and there it was, that cock, that giant cock. He stepped closer, bringing it so near my face, I felt the heat, and once again I smelled it. It drooled precum. My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips.
“G’wan, Sarge, we both know whatcha want.”
Yeah, I thought, so just give me a second here to get up so you can blow me–but Parker’s big cock was throbbing, the foreskin retracted just enough that I saw the hot, purple cockhead inside. He reached down and s l o w l y pulled back the skin.
Like a gooey, wet butterfly being born out of its chrysalis, his cockhead slowly appeared until Pop!–in a sudden burst it filled my vision, and my sight tunneled down until it was all I could see! That steaming, shiny-wet cockhead had me mesmerized, frozen to the spot. Oh, my God, Jesus, this is all going too fast!
Parker put one hand behind my head and pulled my face closer, and–to my dying day I will never know how I lost control so completely–almost against my will, my jaws opened, and with one last look up into his eyes, I took Corporal Parker’s cock into my mouth.
A man’s cock was in my mouth. I was a cocksucker!
No! No, I’m not! This is just an experiment, an accident! I’m here because I want to fuck his ass! But since I’m already here on my knees–
Automatically my tongue diddled around his cockhead, and my fingers gripped around the base. He let out a moan. “I knew it! Yer a natural-born cocksucker, aintcha, Sarge?”
Suddenly, weirdly, I felt proud. Glad I pleased the little guy. My heart pounded, and I heard a roar in my ears. Parker’s big cock didn’t taste bad. I rather liked it. Then he pushed it harder into my mouth, shoving it back toward my throat. I didn’t resist, but when it actually started down my throat, I gagged.
“Fight it, Sarge, fight the gag! You kin do it!”
I don’t know what the fuck made me obey him–I could’ve picked the little bastard up with one hand and thrown him across the room–but I threw all my concentration into fighting the gag reflex, and Parker’s big rod slid all the way down my throat! I arched my back, straightening out my esophagus to let him in deeper. Somehow I knew I was supposed to. “Uhh, yeah, ya big, fuckin’ cocksucker! Take my meat down to yer fuckin’ balls!”
Eerie. Fucking eerie! Somehow I liked sucking his cock–and suddenly I was a person I didn’t know. What is happening to me?? I’ve never felt like this before!
Tears streaming out of my eyes, my nose ground into his crotch hair, and again I felt that eerie pride–I took every inch of that big cock. I pleased him; I did my duty.
Then I learned something about a real blowjob. Women–and even the male teachers from my school days–sucked my cockhead while jacking my cockshaft with a free hand. Not Parker. He pulled his cock back out of my throat until the head cradled on my tongue again, then wham, he thrust it back down my throat! And again and again! Fucking my throat.
“Take it, take my cock, ya big queer! Feel the power of a real man!” I closed my eyes in shame. No man on earth could’ve said that to me. Except Parker. The short little runt had me, a medal-winning body-builder, on my knees, sucking his cock like a wimp.
Desperate to breathe, I managed through my nose, gasping during his outstrokes–Look at me, I’m learning to be a cocksucker–but the sounds of his pleasure, his moans and grunts coming faster and faster made me so hot and horny, the unbelievable happened. The corporal’s growing excitement–and knowing I did it–turned me on so bad, I shot into an orgasm myself!
Kneeling before him, my own hips lurching, I shot what felt like a quart of jism into my underwear. As the pleasure burned through me, I nodded my head up and down to make it easier for him and vary the angles on the little corporal’s wonderful cock.
od! Never had such a big orgasm, not even with Lieutenant Williams, the hot nurse down at the dispensary, the one who took my temperature with my cock down her throat. And now a hard male is fucking MY throat.
I had to admit I liked it. But just as an experiment. My real mission is this little twerp’s ass!
Then I heard him groan, “Ah, yeah, ‘at’s got it,” and I knew I won. I got him, drove him to an orgasm! Sure enough, he rammed it in as far as he could–I felt cockmeat all the way down to my stomach–and a gush of sperm shot into my guts. He pulled it out in time for me to catch the next two or three spurts on my tongue, so I tasted the flavor of victory.
Salty, bitter, Male. Fascinating taste.
When Parker finally pulled his softening dick out of my mouth, I licked at it, sucking off the last few drops of sperm. “Yeah, ‘at’s right, Sarge, clean me off.”
I should’ve been insulted, but hey, I had just sucked him off. What would a couple more licks matter? I wasn’t a cocksucker, just a sort of “visitor,” but I was sucking his cock at the moment–might as well enjoy it. We were alone. His word against mine. I held all the cards, so I worked over his cockhead like a suckling baby.
But god, imagine getting caught like this! It would be even worse than being seen fucking him. But there was nothing to do except relax and enjoy it. I liked the feeling of letting loose of myself, of my responsibilities, of my male pride. I looked up at him, and he smiled. “Really liked it, didn’tcha, Sarge?”
At any time before that moment, I would have slugged him for even asking such a thing, but with the taste of his sperm in my mouth, I managed only a feeble grin. I nodded my head.
He reached down and put a hand under my armpit, pulling me up. “C’mon, get up, Sarge, and let’s have a beer.” He snickered. “Can’t go back to the company with my jism on yer breath.”
Damn, he’s right. I never thought about that.
I sat beside him on a large packing crate (sure enough, coated in grit–the seat of my pants would look like I slid in to home plate), and he produced two cans of beer. I opened mine, leaned back against the wall, and took a long swig. Then I looked over at him. He hadn’t pulled his pants up, so I got to look at his cock as it lay between his legs, soft and recuperating, his foreskin covering the head again.
I had just controlled that big thing. Steered it to a victory. I cleared my throat but still in a hoarse mutter: “Never done anything like this before.”
“Yeah, I know.” He reached out, took my hand, and placed it on his soft cock. “Wanna do it again?”
I knew the right answer: no. I wanted to get to the Main Act–my cock up Parker’s ass, but what came out was “Yeah, maybe later.”
He stood up. “Well, while we’re waitin’, lemme see what yer packin’.” He reached for my belt buckle, and I let him open it. I knew it, he’s hot for me.
He pulled open my pants, then tugged at my pantlegs. I raised my ass to let him pull my fatigue pants down, then he gripped the waistband of my shorts. I lifted my butt again to let him yank them down.
He smirked at me as he saw the big, slimy mess of sperm in my shorts. “Good fer ya, was it, Sarge?”
My face burned with embarrassment–“Yeah”–and my voice a shy squeak. What the fuck is this? I’m the baddest motherfucker at Fort Garrison, and I’m a good 19 years older than this little shit. How in hell am I playing the shy little schoolgirl with him?
He pulled open the laces of my boots and pulled them off, then yanked my pants and boxers off completely. I knew it, he’s so horny for me, he’s got to see me naked.
“Spread yer legs, Sarge.”
Okay, he’s going to start with a blowjob. At least we’ll be even. I was horny, too, my heart pounding, my cock at full-on hardness.
The corporal stood between my spread legs and grabbed them, swiveling me around, moving my back away from the wall. I caught on: he wanted me to lie back on the packing crate. Then he crawled onto it, scrambling up between my legs. Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, here it comes!
But instead of my cock, he grabbed each of my knees and lifted them, spreading my legs even wider. I cooperated, lifting my legs, wondering why he wound me up like that. He bent his head down for me, though, and I took a deep breath–Now I get a blowjob!
But like he had plugged an extension cord into my asshole, lightning-bolts of pure, animal arousal shot through me! His tongue swiped around my rectum!
Jesus fucking Christ! I never felt anything like that in my life!
My first instinct was to tighten up against his probing tongue, but the sensation was so sizzling, so irresistible, I soon relaxed and spread my legs even wider, moaning in ecstasy. Mo-ther-fucker! I thought I’d experienced it all. God, what a thrill!
Parker paused and looked up. “Really hot fer it, ain’tcha, Sarge?”
“Yeah! Oh, yeah!” Somehow I knew it would be the greatest blowjob I ever got. Maybe men really did give better head. I wanted it; I wanted it bad.
He went back to ass-diddling me into insanity, driving me into such arousal that I wanted to go along with anything he wanted to do. I never dreamed such terrible excitement could come from my asshole! It was more than I could stand, and I panted like a bitch in heat. God I wanted him!
I swore an oath to myself, when I finally fuck him, I’m going to make sure he’ll never forget it. I’ll give him every trick I know, everything that 28 years of fucking have taught me. I’ll have him walking bowlegged and purring for a week.
Again the voice: “Ya ready?”
“Oh, God, yeah! Yeah, I’m hot! Do it!” I never wanted a blowjob so bad–I would’ve stood out in the company street with my pants down to let him do it.
He rose up over me, pushing my knees back even more, but instead of bowing down to suck my cock into his mouth, he lowered his hips to my ass, aiming his hard cock between my legs, mounting me!
“What?? Hey!”
But I was too fuck-drunk, so dazed and horny from his licking my asshole. I was on fire. Corporal Parker was a little twerp–I could’ve tossed him off me with a shrug, but I didn’t. Something in me made me watch as he took aim, and his cockhead pressed against my asshole. Oh, no, not this!
Horny, hot–so crazy and insane from what I learned later was called a rim job–in the weirdest way I wanted to cooperate, to please him. To obey. I lay there, looking up at his face, then down at his cock as he took me.
As he took my manhood.
As he took my authority, my dignity, and my respect.
YEEOW!! God, it hurt! I stiffened, arching my back, choking back a scream. He backed off on the pressure, lessening the pain for a moment, but again AAH, the big stump tried to split me in half. I could hardly breathe from the pain!
I heard myself begging him to let me go, but he gave another big shove, and ARRGH! With a pain so great I thought I’d pass out, his cockhead passed through my gates, and “Gotcha, Sarge, got yer cherry!”
He paused there for a moment and leaned forward on his hands, one on each of my nipples. “Yer my bitch now,” he murmured.
So it was true.
It was not pleasure, though, it was pain. My asshole never stretched around anything that thick before, and all my horniness vanished. My whole world was the stabbing pain in my ass! And the terrible pain in my heart: I AM a bitch, a queer, a faggot! A man has stuck his cock up my ass. I’m no longer cherry.
It felt like hell! No pleasure at all! What a letdown. He’d stopped moving, for which I was glad, and I wanted just to tell him to get the fuck off me. Maybe I’ll beat the little bastard up for trying something like this with me!
But slowly he started pushing in again, and although the pain came back, it was not as much as before, and finally I felt his cockhair, the same stuff he’d ground into my nose, scratching and tickling against my balls. “In ya, man,” he grunted, “alla way.”
I was so ashamed, I turned my head away. God, what a nightmare. But quietly, down deep inside me, again that weird pride. I took his whole length.
Every once in a while, a girl screamed if I sank too much into her pussy, so anybody with a dong like Kowalski or Parker probably heard that, too–but I had taken him to the last inch, down to his cockhair! Better than any woman.
He liked it, and somehow that made me strangely glad. Like I’d done my duty.
He paused there for a few moments, savoring his triumph and conquest–letting me think about the fact that when this was over, he would outrank me, in a way–and I’ll be damned, the pain gradually faded away!
The biggest revelation was yet to come–when he began the outstroke, slowly pulling back, I was amazed:
It . . . felt . . . wonderful!
The pain blended into a sensation I’d never felt before! Another new sexual experience! Pleasure radiated out from my asshole through my whole body, and I was confounded–who knew a man could get such a terrific pleasure from his asshole!
Every stroke after that scored ecstatic friction! Again I could hardly breathe, but this time because it felt so wonderful! Damn, it was fabulous! The faster and harder he lunged into me, the stronger the pleasure, until I heard myself croaking, “Faster, man! Faster!” The very words my bitches yelped to me.
My head spinning, I reached up around his shoulders and pulled him down to me. I had to hug him, I had to do something in return for the ecstasy. Before I knew it, he was kissing me!
Almost gracefully (compared to the savagery of the lunges below) his lips dropped onto mine, and after the initial shock–My God, I’m kissing a man!–I kissed him back, melting like a steel bar in a furnace.
The hottest kiss I ever had. No woman, not even that captain’s wife I double-teamed with Sergeant Shawnessy a few years ago gave me a kiss like that. Trails of fire ran out from my lips, and I felt my face flushed.
His tongue jabbed into my mouth and overcame my own in the sword-fight in spit, and he claimed me as his. He controlled me at both ends. It was all I could take–again I lost all control, and a tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure swept over me, shooting my jism all over my chest. Unimaginable bliss! I stiffened up, my toes curled, and my eyes rolled back in their sockets.
And it wasn’t over! After eight or nine ejaculations, my orgasm eased off, leaving me light-headed and drunk, but the corporal still lunged after his own climax, and his bone-jarring lunges into my ass kept me at near orgasm pitch for nearly 20 minutes! For twenty fucking minutes I never came down!
The friction of that big, knobby cockshaft chattering through my hypersensitive asshole kept me floating just short of ejaculation so long, I thought I was dying. My vision blurred, the roaring was back in my ears, and I found myself licking the drops of sweat off his face like an adoring dog.
And Parker wanted variety: he ordered me to get up. He lay back, then I sat on him, impaling myself on that fabulous cock, starting the pleasure again. Later he ordered me onto my hands and knees, and when he got in the saddle, I learned even more about what one man could do for another. Stabs of joy shot through me as his cock battered my prostate.
He made me so hot I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to suck something! Jack something! Anything to quench the blazing fire. Never had such an overwhelming experience.
I had one more thing to learn: when the young fuck-god unloaded his sperm in me, I went abso-fucking-lutely crazy! I felt the jets of sperm pumping into my ass! When I realized he was breeding me, pumping his jism into me, I got such a terrible wave of pride, I cummed still again, my cock spouting joyous gushes of my boiling slime all over the warehouse floor.
Fabulous! Sex with Parker was the most intense of my whole life. Three ejaculations, one right after the other! I’d never done anything like that.
He collapsed on my back, and I loved the feeling of supporting his weight, his warm body still connected to mine by the mighty power cable of his cock. I could’ve crouched there as his undercarriage for the rest of the night, but that wasn’t to be.
Corporal Parker rose up off me, pulled his cock out, and stood up. My ass felt empty, abandoned, robbed. I looked back over my shoulder at him, then rolled over to sit on my ass–right in the middle of the mess of my own sperm.
He hurriedly pulled on his pants. “Gotta leave now, haveta be over at the company fer night watch.” He pulled on his green baseball cap. “Thanks, Sarge. Seeya later. Let yerself out; the door’ll lock behind ya.” And he was gone.
I got up, dressed, and left. I walked all the way back to the bachelor NCO barracks, my mind buzzing with titanic discoveries.
On one hand I had never felt so much like shit–I had just proven I was a fairy, a cupcake, a limp-wristed faggot. I was filthy, covered with dust and dirt both on my skin and on my uniform. And inside.
But on the other hand, I had never felt so liberated, so pleasured, so physically wonderful in my whole fucking life!
Back on my bunk, I couldn’t sleep. My mind went 100 miles an hour, reliving every second of my sex-baptism with Corporal Parker. God, I loved what he did to me. I didn’t get to fuck him, didn’t even get my blowjob, but I didn’t care.
I just pined for the next time he did his thing with me.
What? The next time?? What are you thinking? You’re going to be this guy’s whore?
It hit me like the ceiling crashed down on me: Yeah. I want that guy to fuck me again.
Then another thought, a scary one. What would it be like to be fucked by Kowalski? I gritted my teeth. He was ultra-straight. We even joked about women, and some of his men had hinted to me that he had a stable of eager town-babes. Shit.
And something else: how could I get into a relationship with a man I was investigating? Let’s see, if I spread my legs and help the guy penetrate my asshole, does that mean my objectivity is compromised?
Only if you get pregnant.
There, you see? Kowalski can fuck me.
Funny thoughts, but I didn’t smile. Damn, I wish I wasn’t spying on this guy!
A long time later I finally fell asleep.