Interservice Relations: A How to Guide on Establishing Ties

So. It was 2426, or 0026 depending on your preference, when we made it back to the LSA. Most guys were having "dinner", the evening meal being served in the mess tent. As much as the slop being called "oriental chicken with rice" appealed to me, I had USDA Grade AAA+ prime beefy Air Force ass panting for my cock.

I was rather inclined to accede to that desire.

The tent was lit up as the Black shift had left and none of the Gold shift guys had yet gone to bed. I went straight for my bunk area, pulled out my running clothes, changing as quickly as I could. I grabbed a tiny gym bag/back pack that I used and stuck a poncho and a blanket inside. I glanced over to Josh's cot, and it looked like he was possessed; he was trying to put on a tank top while simultaneously put on his socks. He teetered, lost his balance and fell over.

We were the only two in the tent, so I walked over, picked him up, squeezing his hot bubble ass as I did, and whispered, "enough games stud, get that fucking hole moving," and gave him a slow teasing kiss before I turned back to my preparations.

If he was spastic before, it only got worse now. I'm not sure which was better; how badly he wanted it, or how funny it was to watch him get ready.

Soon we were both dressed, and with my bag over my shoulder, we left the tent and moved out of the LSA. We didn't talk, didn't waste the time. As soon as we hit the road, we broke out into a run. Shit, at that moment you could have signed both of us up for the Olympic team. We passed the second mile and began to get into the remote area I ran to yesterday. I didn't have a specific point in mind, rather I figured I'd know something when I saw it.

It was a clear night, and at this time no one else was out. I saw a bit of a trail through the brush off to our left, and without hesitation, steered us there. We slowed to a walk as we entered the tree line and began to hunt for a place.

Guys in the military, you know what happens when you're on a camp, base, post, whatever, and you go into the woods. Training uses much of an installation and you always find leftovers. About 200 yards from the road, we came upon what looked like graves; they were, in reality, the filled in remnants of foxholes (fighting positions).

I figured this was more than fitting.

I opened my bag, took out the poncho and spread it out over the mound. I then removed the blanket, using it for a bit of cushioning, and turned to Josh.

The horny bastard was standing there, naked, wearing nothing but his running shoes. That and a grin from ear to ear.

I grabbed his hand, pulled him close and kissed him. This time, I didn't let up.

I probed every tiny bit of his mouth with my tongue, our spit swapping back and forth. He turned out to be a bit of an aggressive little bottom slut, trying to invade my mouth. I let him for a minute, acquiescing as our tongues sparred, giving ground to him. While we tongue wrestled, I moved my hands all over his body.

Fuck, was he hot! There was not a bit of fat on him. Everything was firm to the touch, from his pecs to his thighs and most especially his ass. I could feel his nipples digging into my skin, standing out like stone peas on his chest. His cock was rock hard, stabbing me in the groin and leaking more precum than I've ever seen flow from a guy. I paused in our kiss to stare and make sure he hadn't actually cum, there was so much of it.

It was humid out. Our bodies were slick and covered in sweat from the run, and getting sweatier by the minute.

I couldn't stand it.

I'd gone a week without ass, the foreplay and kissing stuff, which I greatly enjoy, could come later. At that moment, I needed hole.

I picked him up and at the same time dropped down to my knees. If the impact on the earth was a bit jarring for me, it was very jarring for him. It didn't quite knock the wind out of him, but it certainly gave him pause.

As I picked him up, he instinctually wrapped his legs around my waist, likely thinking I was going to hold him and make out. So, he lay there on his back, dazed, legs around my waist, with me kneeling, cock against his ass.

That was all I needed.

Between my precum, our sweat, and his precum, I didn't worry about lube. Quite frankly, had I been dry, I still wouldn't have worried about lube.

At that moment, there was only one thing I cared about, and it was getting inside Josh. Fast.

So I did.

Using my thumbs I spread his cheeks, shifted my hips a bit and stabbed. Hard.

I've never wanted to be inside a guy so fast, so badly as I did right then. Between the lack of sex, and the hot fighter pilot jock spread before me, I couldn't control it. I speared him on all 9" in one fucking push.

All he did was grunt.

Holy fucking shit.

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you'll remember Chris, the construction worker I had a thing for but lives in Wyoming (see blog post "The Morning After Pill"). Beyond the fact that Chris was hot, had an amazingly tight ass, he was also the last guy I'd fucked bare.

Shit, had I been missing out.

Chris, tighter than some of the virgins I've been inside, had NOTHING on Josh. I've never in my life been inside any hole, man or woman, that was as tight as this kids pucker. It wasn't just that half inch firm grip you get just from the sphincter around your cock; it was a tight, moist, hot vise that ran the entire length of my tool. It was absolutely amazing.

Scared that I'd cum if I moved an inch, I held it there. I stared down at him, and the look on my face must have been interesting, 'cuz the little shit started to laugh.

He pulled me down, giving me a sloppy wet kiss as my cock pulsed inside him, wanting to explode. The kiss ended and he just whispered, "I'm good, stud."

Cocky, arrogant little fucking shit.

So, I wiped the smile of his face.

Fingers pinching his nips, hard, I put my weight against the back of his knees with my shoulders, pushing his legs back and exposing more of his hole. I shifted my hips, angling my cock to stab upwards and began to pound. He lay there, mouth going wide, hands gripping my biceps hard enough to make me wince, as I rammed him. I knew right where his button was, and while he was tight and knew how to work his hole, it was pretty obvious he had never had a hung power top who knew how to really use a bottom go at him.

It lasted about a minute.

Usually the bottoms tease tops for exploding too fast.

This was not the case, here.

Between the nipples and my merciless pounding of his prostate, Josh couldn't last. His head tilted back and he screamed. "HOLY FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM!"

And cum he did.

He fucking exploded; no other word covers it. The first few spurts went past his head, landing somewhere in the dirt. The next several landed on his forehead, cheeks and chin, before the orgasm began to slow and he covered most of his chest and abs in his goo.

He wasn't the only one.

If he was tight before, his orgasm tightened it tenfold. As soon as his fuck-hole clamped down on my dick I got one more thrust before I came. I filled that boy up to his fucking tonsils with my cum. I fucked him bare, bred him and didn't give a shit. All that mattered at that moment was making him take every last tadpole I had in my nuts.

It was the single most powerful orgasm I've ever had in my life. It almost hurt.

It was incredible.

I collapsed on Josh, cum splashing down the sides of his chest, both of us panting. I lay there looking into those grayish-green eyes and smiled.

"Mike. That... Shit. I don't know WHAT that was. I've heard tops claim to be able to make bottoms cum just from fucking...but I've never really believed it. Fuck!" he said.

Fuck indeed.

I didn't say anything, I just lay there, my cock going semi hard inside him, my cum leaking out of his hole slowly, forming a growing puddle beneath us.

I've never seen so much sperm from just two orgasms. It was everywhere.

Fuck, that was hot!

We lay there for awhile, silent, me on top, him beneath, and just stared at each other.

I could tell, from the look he had, he was pulling a Chris. By that, I meant, getting attached.

The problem was, I couldn't say I wasn't either.

Goddamnit. I find a hot guy, a fighter pilot jock stud boy, easily the best ass I've ever been in, I fuck him bare our first time and have the best sex of my life, and I get a whole three weeks to spend with him before I go back to the Seattle area and he goes back to the East coast.

Shit.

With that thought I sighed. Loudly. He looked at me with a "Is something wrong?" look on his face, but I just smiled. If I only had three more weeks, I needed to make sure I enjoyed it.

The thought got me hard.

I lowered my head and kissed his mouth.

Last time I'd railed him and abused his hole. Now I focused on pleasuring us both, moving my cock in circular motions to hit everywhere inside his cum-sloppy asshole while thrusting slowly into him.

We didn't make it back to the LSA until 0545. And then we still had to shower.

We looked like something out of a horror movie; hair stuck up from dried cum, bits of dirt and brush stuck everywhere, it was disgusting.

It was fucking hot!

Luckily no one was awake. We grabbed our shower stuff and went to the bathhouse. It was empty; even the native there to take names was gone. We undressed, got into the shower, and washed each other off.

It wasn't a great idea, with open showers and all, but I couldn't resist picking him up, thrusting him against the wall, and sinking my cock into him one last time for the night.

Judging by how he panted, moaned and eagerly took load number six, I think he wanted it too. Just a little.

I spent every day for the next three weeks inside Josh. We never went at it that long again, it was almost 0700 by the time we made it to our racks, but not a day went by with him not carrying at least two of my loads inside of him.

I don't condone bareback sex... lord knows there is enough stuff out there to catch, but I trusted Josh, and sometimes, with a guy like that, you just have to say fuck it.

Josh was the hottest guy I've ever had the pleasure to fuck, and more than that, the little shit took a bit of me with him when we left. We're already planning his visit in 3 weeks, and I plan to spend 95% of that time in him, in bed. Well, mostly in bed.

We'll have to plan an arboretum trip and relive our outdoors fucks sometime...


~Mike

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Back to Basics

It's been awhile since I have gotten down to what most people want to read: sex. Hardcore, unadulterated, talking-about-plowing-boy-hole, hot fucking, dirty, sex.

Far too long.

Anyway, this is about my life, in and out of bed, and sometimes that gets sidetracked. But. That also means I'm more than a bit behind in relating some of the guys I've gotten myself into.

Quite literally.

Let’s get started addressing that.

So, I found myself in a land far, far away, about 36 hours after I was informed that I would be going on temporary duty to "assist" in a training exercise. Now, the training itself sucked monkey nuts. It was boring. I did very little, and most of the time even when I was needed, it involved very little actual participation. That's the fucking Army for you. Draw in people from all the services for 3+ weeks of fun when in reality we could have done it in 3 days. Fun.

So beyond the fact that I got to spend time in a tent, where it was hot as balls and the locale smelt of kimchee, I had a semi decent time. I got to do a lot of reading, which I enjoy. I got to meet some cool guys. Most importantly, I worked on improving my inter-service relationships.

Three relationships, in fact.

Ever since Top Gun came out, the thought of having sex with a hot, cocky, swaggering fighter jock loomed large in just about EVERYONE's mind, to some degree. Men, women, whatever. You go to Pensacola, Panama City, anywhere where there is training and/or bases for pilots and you can can witness this first hand.

Trust me, I'm certainly not immune to this fantasy either.

Imagine, however, if you have one such swaggering, insanely hot, Tom-Cruise-would-mortgage-his-scientologist-soul-to-look-this-good pilot who is stuck in a tent with you for three weeks. Further imagine that the latrine, shower, and sleeping facilities are all open; no dividers, no privacy, no surprises. Everything is seen.

That is the position I found myself to be in.

Thank. God.

After the third day of living together, even in a 23 man tent, I knew my hot pilot was a fag. Call me crazy, but the fact that he spouted a very obvious, and rather nice, tent in his PT shorts the first time I stripped naked in front of him may have clued me in. That, and the fact that somehow from then on he always managed to be at the showers at the exact same time as me.

I was showering three times a day.

Hmmm.

Josh. What a stud! Blond hair, 5'10" (he claimed 6', but there is no way in hell), and a solid 175 pounds of utter cockiness. His eyes weren't blue, which you would assume for his coloring of hair and skin, but rather a grayish green that seemed to change colors, very noticeable and very VERY hot. The man looked like he'd been a gymnast at the Academy, if he had told me he was, I'd have believed him. His abs were popped, his arms defined, and he had an ass on him that could quite easily de-shell a pistachio in half a second or less. Capped with a quite nice 7.5" or so cut cock, he was a looker.

And he knew it.

Fortunately, he was also horny as fuck, and wanted dick. Judging by the way he followed me around like a lost puppy, chatting me up in that cute, adoring little-brother way every second I was within eyeshot, it gradually came to dawn on me who he wanted it from. I mean, you beat me over the head with a bat often enough and eventually I get the point.

No, I knew after about 30 seconds with the stud he was a 'mo. About 2 minutes past that, I knew he was a bottom. The problem as those first few days went by wasn't getting him into bed; it was, quite literally, FINDING a bed. As I've said, there was no privacy anywhere, no dividers, no way to get a hot piece of ass unseen. The exercise was on 24 hour operations, split into Gold (day) and Black (night) shifts. There was never a time you could find a quiet corner somewhere and pillage some hot hole.

It took me a few days to get my bearings of the cantonment, see what I could/couldn't get away with, and get the schedule for the exercise down.

Once I managed that and I knew the When, and I definitely knew the Who, What and Why, all I needed was a Where.

That was the problem.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find a building I could get into where I could pork Josh. Short of an out-of-the-way porta-jon, there were no options. And the porta-jon, in my mind, was NO option; even I have some standards.

Between the jetlag (Seattle is 16 hours behind where I was), the fact that my shifts had changed, from Black to Gold, and the damn heat, I wasn't sleeping phenomenally well. I woke up on the fourth night at about 0330 and couldn't go back to sleep. After laying there in the dark, trying to drown the snores from the cot next to me, I finally got up, pulled on my shoes, reflective belt (it's a military thing), shirt and went out for a run. I figured I would sweat a bit less in the early morning.

Hah. I wish.

It was still humid as hell, and after about the fourth mile I was just as sweaty as when I ran during the day. At least it wasn't miserably hot, though.

As I approached the turn around point, I noticed my shoelace was untied and stopped to tie it. I looked up and was surprised by the amount of stars that I could see. It was dark; very, very dark. Looking around, I realized there was nothing around me, I was out in the middle of nowhere.

It hit me.

I tied my shoe, and ran like hell back to the LSA. I grabbed my shower kit, towel, shower shoes, and headed up to the bathhouse, whistling the whole way.

I'm glad that only a few of the natives were there, more so that I could claim not to understand them, because I was happy as a clam and sporting a semi the whole time I was in the shower. Let me tell you; 9" of cock at half mast is rather noticeable, and it made for a great deal of talking and pointing.

I saw Josh at lunch. He came over, flashed his bright white smile and launched into such a rapidly eager conversation I could only sit there amused and nod occasionally when he paused. The fact that I was rubbing my bulge under the table and imagining his thighs clamped down around my waist wasn't helping my attention much, either.

Coming back to reality, I cleared my throat and he lapsed into silence, looking at me expectantly. I told him about this morning, that I couldn't sleep and decided to go on a run. I mentioned how much nicer it was running in the cool morning, even if it was still humid. He nodded, and said he could understand that. Smiling, I set the hook.

"Well, awesome bro. I was hoping you would be interested in running with me. You know, it can be so much better doing it with a partner," I told him, huge grin on my face.

For a second, his face was blank. A microsecond. The next moment, he looked like he'd just been told he was the newest $324 million Powerball winner.

"Mike, that'd be fucking awesome! I need to improve my run time (doubtful), and I bet there are all sorts of...techniques... you can teach me," he said.

The fact that he reached down and casually rubbed at the crotch of his flight suit showed he wasn't hoping for pointers on his running technique.

I smiled back and just said, "Josh; be ready to learn more than you bargained for."

With that last rejoinder, I grabbed my tray, and left the mess tent before he could say another word. I wanted the cocky little slut to be panting, eager and ready for my rod.

I avoided him the rest of the day. When I saw him coming, I'd duck away, or launch into a conversation he couldn't intrude into. I could tell as the end of the shift came he was bursting with impatience and frustration. Just as I wanted.

Shifts were 12 hours, running from midnight to noon, noon to midnight. As I left the security checkpoint following the end of our shift, I heard a shout of "wait up" behind me.

I didn't.

Within seconds, I heard the pounding of boots on pavement pursuing me and finally a panting, flustered, bitchy pilot was walking beside me.

"Dude. What the fuck. You've been avoiding me all day. That’s fuc-"

He didn't get any further.

I spun to the side, grabbed him hard by both biceps, lifted him up off the ground and mashed my lips against his. It was risky; we were on the road going back to the LSA where anyone could see, but it was midnight and we were alone. Either way, I kissed him, tongue flicking his, mouth demanding, searching, grasping, devouring everything he had. He melted, going boneless, as I held him there, suspended above the ground. Only seconds, but feeling like hours, and I pulled back and set him down. He staggered. Turning, I resumed walking back to the tents.

After standing there for a minute, dazed, he caught back up.

"Um. Wow. So. Mike. You're..."

I laughed. "Yes, Josh, I like guys. Which you knew. Stop acting surprised and get ready for what’s coming," I told him.

"No, no, no," he quickly said, "What I was trying to say is that you are a fucking AMAZING kisser. Holy fuck, I've never felt anything like that before!"

I paused for a second, stopping again in the middle of the road. I looked at him, blond hair glinting slightly in the crescent moon light, teeth flashing in his grin. I looked down and noticed not only was he tenting, his flight suit sticking out noticeably as he stood there, but there was a spreading wetspot from his precum.

"Just wait for tonight, Josh. You'll see."

We kept walking back to the tents.

"Mike, I know you were thinking about 0330, but wouldn't it make more sense to go now? We could go on our... run, shower, then go to bed without having an interrupted nights sleep."

Thinking about that, I looked over at him and smiled. "You really want my fucking cock up your hole right now, don't you, you fucking slut?"

He didn't even hesitate.

"Yes. Fucking goddamn YES," he said.

Heh.

"Alright, fighter jock, lets go get changed."

I think you know what happened next.

~Mike

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And the voting continues...

Alright men. The lucky/brave few have posted themselves here for your review pleasure; now, head to the polls! Winner is getting a pair of TopMarine dogtags inscribed as they wish, and a signed pair or worn 2xist varsity underwear, with my scent still on them. Sick, disgusting, perverted... I figured it's just the right sort of thing for such a contest.

Please send those ballots in! Remember, comment with the name of the person and YEA or NAY and any additional comments in the body. Hope to get some results in the morning!

~Mike

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Sunday morning's wake-up surprise

All,

Woke up to several e-mails in my in box. Better late than never! Keep them coming,

~Mike

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BikeGuy
Cleveland, OH / Washington DC
6'2"
187
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8"cut















L
28
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