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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Khaki Clad
By Anonymous Author
Originally from the M2M Archives
***
Sometimes helping out a hunky shipmate can be a real
pain in the ass - but then sometimes the hunky
shipmates don't mind that at all. (MM, military)
***
I stopped working on my flight reports and looked up
across the 18 inches that separated Andy from me. The
time had come to end the game of touchy-feelie we had
been playing all afternoon.
Life in the military is built around deciding whether a
guy means only what he says or is really hitting at
deeper, more entertaining possibilities. There are more
gay men in the military than you can shake a dick at,
but until the Pentagon gets its act together, all a guy
needs is one homophobic prick taken into his confidence
to put a hell of a serious crimp into his future.
I was stationed aboard a certain LHA on its way to the
Gulf when Captain Andy flew aboard with his Harrier
squadron at Subic Bay. We were winding down our raj
there and hauling the aircraft down to Singapore, so
he'd be aboard about a week for the transmit and
exercises scheduled along the way.
I wasn't thrilled about getting a roommate. Roommates
generally interfere with my after-hours R&R, but when
Andy swaggered in, the usual bitches I'd been doing
underway stopped being much of a concern.
Except for my dimples and his green eyes to my blue, we
looked amazingly alike: about 6'2", blond hair, pug
noses, strong brows and jaws, and power-packed muscles
everywhere you care to look. Just then, I cared to look
everywhere. A guy doesn't like to sound conceited, but
you don't sail aboard Navy ships for years without
knowing whether you have bait for the beast. I had it.
Captain Andy had it too.
When Andy slipped out of his flight suit and I
discovered he was a freeballer, my internal queer alarm
went off so loud Judge Crater probably heard it. For
the next couple of hours, we sat at side-by-side desks
while he blathered and I tried to filter through to the
subtext - if there was one.
He was a marine captain. I was a navy lieutenant (oddly
enough, the same rank), so our positions in the pecking
order didn't matter dick as far as who sucked and who
shot. Finally I gave up, looked into those amiable
green eyes, and asked, "Are you a top or a bottom?"
Marines are cute, but no one ever accused them of being
quick. Subtexts aren't their usual bag. He looked at
the racks in our room - mine on top and long since
made, his on the bottom with the linen still stacked
and waiting - and got lost between A and B: "The bottom
is just fine."
This was going to be harder than I'd expected. Maybe he
really was one of those straight marines I keep reading
about in Pentagon propaganda. "No," I said with my
version of a subtle, knowing smile, "Do you like to be
on the top or the bottom? Most of you jarhead jet-
jockeys seem to like taking better than giving." Frank
talk finally got through the haze but also made the guy
blush red-pepper hot and stammer gibberish.
Marines like being shown what to do. So I showed him. I
started slowly enough, reaching over to kiss his neck
on the way to his right ear. My lips washed the blush
from his face but set shivers and gooseflesh in its
place. He put his hand up, unsure of whether to push me
away or pull me closer; but when he brushed against my
chest and felt my swollen tits through my T-shirt, I
pulled my dog tags off and let my shirt follow them to
the deck.
Captain Andy was fascinated by my abundant blond chest
fur. I rose, rubbing my smooth-textured pelt against
his cheek, pulling his head against my chest until the
racing cadence of my heart was unmistakable.
His broad hands slipped down from my shoulders to learn
every inch of my strong flanks. When they instinctively
drifted down, by easy degrees, to my khaki-clad ass, I
knew he was a jarhead I could depend on for a thumping
good time. The careless grating of his Corps-cropped
head against my arms, the low puppy yelps of pleasure
he was making as he nuzzled my pecs, and his scent of
man-sweat all gave me the green light for stage two.
Still, I couldn't help thinking that something about
Captain Andy wasn't quite right. Most of my marines
would have their legs spread toward the ceiling and
their asses stretched wide for me by now. Andy fumbled
about, seemingly uncertain, happy to let me have the
con as he snuffled fecklessly around my tits.
I ordered all-head flank and pulled his ass out of the
chair. His tags and shredded T-shirt joined mine on the
deck so I could check out his set of hard, marine-built
muscles. He wasn't as pumped as some of the enlisted
grunts I'd done abroad, but they have dick to do all
day but work out. Captain Andy was worlds more
delectable that any other squid officer abroad.
Beads of sweat gleamed on his broad, tanned, hairless
pecs. Hard, brown tits stood tall for the taking. What
caught my fancy most of all, though, was his pointer
trim. That's my pet name for the cute little fringe of
fur clean-bodied men often have pointing dickward down
from their belly-buttons. His was thick and tightly
curled and leading just where I wanted to follow.
When he'd changed out of his flight suit, I'd gotten a
glimpse of thigh; now I needed to fill my world with
dick. His did just the trick. Big men often have big
dicks, but his was almost as fine as mine - and ever
more eager. Thick blue veins pulsed with expectation.
Getting him naked had been a minor comedy; but once I
plucked him bare, high drama began.
I tossed him backward onto his unmade rack and slipped
my face between his strong, unsure thighs. A unique mix
of sweat and JP-5 fumes had cooked all day in his
crotch until Escoffier would have turned from his
tureen in envy. Andy's hands held my head away for an
instant, perhaps fearing what was to come; but the
thrill of the moment and every marine's hard-charging
need to experience everything soon reminded him who was
in charge.
I started deep, slurping the savory sauce du jour from
his wrinkled man-sack until I thought I'd never need
dessert. I licked his thighs and the base of his
gloriously jet-jock joystick, working upward as it
bounced hard against his pointer-trim and the lean
warrior belly that lay beneath.
I might be there still, snuffling along his shank like
a harrier with a fresh, juicy bone, if a surge of
crystal pre-cum hadn't splashed and sparkled against
his belly, reminding me of the unlucky times in which
we live. If I couldn't suck his oversized dick until I
gagged on his jarhead load, where should I go next?
I could Trojan his tool and chow down - or shove my
rubber-clad rod so far into his cute marine face that
he'd have heartburn. His tits needed tweaking in the
worst way. His full lips lay parted, begging in
unconscious desperation for my tongue. The
possibilities were endless - but, fortunately, he
wasn't.
I didn't learn until later in the night that the
asshole had been, until I came along, that rarest of
marine meat: virgin. I might have enjoyed myself even
more if I had known, but I just thought the bastard was
shy. I don't blame myself for missing the signals. How
could a jarhead get through OCS and flight school, and
then fly about with the fleet, and not have his hole
plumbed at least once? At least he had the good sense
not to give me any trouble when I flipped his ass over
and reached for the KY.
Captain Andy's jarhead butt was even better than most,
firm and full and ready for all the fun I had to shove
his way. Soft skin stretched taut over muscle that was
hard and ready as coiled carbon steel. But as my
fingers slipped across the smooth curves of his marine
pleasure-mounds, his whole body writhed in wriggles,
and that powerful warrior body melted in response to
every delicious sensation of the moment.
Those marine muscles stopped wriggling when my lubed
finger snaked between them on the way to prying open
his asshole. He locked up tight around me, desperate to
have something thicker and longer finish the job. One
finger followed another, fighting against his frantic
grip to make headway, until putting off the finale any
longer would have been an act against nature.
Fortunately for both of us, I'm a natural kind of guy.
My dick was wrapped in rubber and greased for a grunt
in a hard-charging, light speed flash.
One hand lifted his ass into the air while the other
forced his shoulders down against the mattress to
provide maximum presentation. My thick nine inches
found his pucker and dicked around with him awhile to
be mean, sliding across his eager, quivering asshole,
making him beg just a little more before he got what I
had.
When I learned mercy and slammed into his hole, the
reaction was well worth the wait. The magnificent
bastard exploded forward like a shot and would have
made good his instinctive escape if my dickhead hadn't
been swollen too big to get back out through his tight
jarhead ass.
Dick caught hard on the inside of his sphincters, and
they rebounded like a trampoline, pulling him back
against my hips. I locked my hands over his shoulders
to make sure his passing fear of the unknown wouldn't
try again to overcome his deeper, more ancient need for
dick. By the time I was sliding outward again, Captain
Andy had made peace with my presence.
His cheeks were clenching tight along my crankshaft,
his hands had reached back to cup my ass, and one
masculine purr after another eased out into the night
from between his lips to tell the world how he really
felt about being fucked hard up the ass by the first
Navy helo-jockey to come along.
As the sweaty smacks of my pelvis pounding into Andy's
firm man-cheeks accelerated into a random noise akin to
the patter of summer rainfall, his soft purrs and coos
grew rapidly into the yelps of a young man having one
very good time. My own grunts and growls were probably
not far behind, but I was too fucking busy to take
notes. His slick guts slipped across the tender head of
my dick, coaxing my crank to unheard-of thickness as it
lured whole squadrons of whip tailed kamikazes up from
their hidden bases.
My lips tore into the back of his neck, slurping up his
musk as they moved up across bare flesh and stubble to
give his cute little ears a real licking. For a seeming
eternity, I was content to suck and nip at his lobes,
happy with the shivers that shook loose his muscular
marine bedrock and sent him reeling. My tongue finished
the job, twisting far into his ear as quickly and
furiously as a vicious rumor, wreaking havoc in its
path.
I had his humpy body hooked fore and aft and was using
it the way a cur dog would use a pedigree bitch when I
realized the one thing I was missing. I wanted what
that cur could never get - an up-close and personal
view of my bitch's face while I nailed him hard.
Captain Andy needed to show me how much he liked being
fucked by my thick naval dick. Rolling his ass over
didn't take a second. As though from long practice, his
feet hooked onto the underside of my rack, rolling his
hole upward into perfect position for me to finish
using it the way any marine hole deserved to be used.
By now his eyes were worth watching - sparkling bright
with that tell-tale glow bred of fuck-friction and the
knowledge that he was having more fun than he could
think about at one time.
The change of position also meant his lips could
stretch upward to mine, eager for the kind of reward
his ass was earning with every nine-inch injection. Our
tongues met and slipped apart again in the heaving give
and take only two men locked together hook-and-tail can
know. I felt his hands clawing at my back, pulling me
down against him.
My crankshaft switched into overdrive, twisting new
paths through his dick-demolished asshole with every
savage stroke. My cadence quickened until the piston-
fed flinches in his face were transformed into a
prolonged seizure of satisfaction. Captain Andy's
strong marine jaw slackened against his own selfish
animal need to feed off more and more of my fuck-
friction. His shit-hole was already bearing down so
hard onto my rubbered root that spontaneous combustion
lurked just ahead.
About the time my ball-bag finally clenched up enough
to stop slamming into his ass, his prostate must have
popped like corn in a campfire. Those green eyes rolled
back into his head, his legs and arms all flailed about
in opposite directions, and that clean-marine mouth
twisted into blasphemies that would make a congressman
blush.
By then, though, my own ream-rhythm was just as out of
control. My head remained stoically on station,
hovering a foot above Andy's, recording his tortured
face with some small fragment of consciousness. My
hips, however, were long since amok, driving my dick
deeper and better with every convulsive, grunt-loving
grind.
I think Andy must have seized up first, because I felt
every muscle in his ass clench solid at once. His arms
clutched tight about me. Those delicious green eyes
slammed shut to discover the awful ecstacy that lay
within. My time came a stroke later - and a stroke felt
just like what I was having. This wasn't any ordinary
butt-fuck; what Captain Andy did to my dick was Nobel-
quality physics. Whether because of the heat or the
selfish grip his grunt guts had on my crank, my dick
didn't just shoot sweet jism - it fucking exploded out
through the top of my head until I knew for sure I'd
fucked up a nut.
My hips continued pounding dick into Andy until, when
his good time was over, Andy reached up and clamped his
hand over my mouth to shut me the hell up before we
drew a fire party. By that time my balls were flushed
dry; I'd pumped everything I had up his ass but just
didn't have the couth to call and end to a good thing.
I shut up all right and managed to get my breath, but
pulling out of Andy's ass was almost impossible. Not
only were his hands and feet still wrapped tightly
around me, but I'd developed the cramp of the century
in my right leg. By the time I untangled our bodies,
the cramp had made me lose my balance and splash down
into the jarhead jism Andy had sprayed all over
himself.
After taking my load, any normal man is happy to coast
and cuddle a while to recharge his batteries before I
slam more satisfaction out of his ass. Captain Andy was
no normal man. His limitless need for dick was
extravagant even by marine standards. The slut just
couldn't get enough, pestering me to do it again until
I wondered how much more flesh I could rub from my
bone.
When I begged off, he begged even louder, confessing
that he'd been cherry until I came along. Shit, knowing
that, I had to do the decent thing and reconsider. The
next week was busy enough for a lifetime. Andy flew
five missions in his aircraft; I lost track of the ones
we flew together.
Sometimes helping out a hunky shipmate can be a real
pain in the ass - but then sometimes the hunky
shipmates don't mind that at all.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 33