featuring cadets – Mansploitation

The Marine Bottoms

Moshe often stumbles across Marines and cadets from the nearby base, so when one of each approaches his door, he wasn’t surprised. A cadet and his drill sergeant are in desperate need of something only Moshe can provide — a chance for the studly cadet to prove his devotion by bending over, grabbing his ankles and whistling dixie while Moshe goes to town all over his alpha-male ass!

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Or read the whole thing here!

The Megillah was even more difficult to get right this year. Every year, Moshe found that he struggled a bit more to get the pronunciation right and to nail the rhythm of it — he didn’t speak Hebrew that well, much to his shame, and now that he no longer lived in Israel, he was losing his memory of the language. But every year during Purim, his family had him read the Megillah (that’s the same thing as the Bible’s Book of Esther and is part of the Tanakh whose recitation during the holy season of Purim is required for observant Jews; Purim is a March holiday that commemorates the Jews’s deliverance from certain genocide in the ancient Persian Empire). It was a sort of family tradition.
If Moshe had gotten married and had a child or two, his family would have had his kid begin reading the Megillah, or at least a few brief segments of it as he learned Hebrew. But Moshe had no desire for a child and seemed likely to remain a perpetual bachelor. That was exactly how he liked it.
That was why it remained his increasingly awkward duty to recite the Megillah every year.
There was a knock on the door. Moshe sighed and went to see who it was — if it was his NRA-loving, conservative neighbor with another gun-rights pamphlet, he was going to file a harassment complaint. He had promised himself that before as well, but he didn’t like to make waves, and it was always simpler just to take him at his word that he wouldn’t be back.
But it wasn’t that neighbor at all, it was the neighbor from the house on the other side, Sergeant Powers. Moshe didn’t see that much of him. He was from Camp Pendleton, the Marine Corps training facility here in San Diego. While Sergeant Powers was not exactly “nice”, he was always polite. Moshe rather liked him, certainly compared to the other neighbor.
It helped, of course, that Sergeant Powers was a big burly bear of a man, with muscles and a square jaw and so much swagger that Moshe nearly came in his pants the first time he had spied Powers lifting weights shirtless in his backyard. Today he was here, bright and early in the morning, with a younger man in tow.
The younger man was just as alluring as Powers and arguably even more sexy in a classic sense. The cadet had a Hollywood-handsome dimpled face, kind eyes and it was apparent he sported a six-pack under his t-shirt. Sergeant Powers was a bit older, with a few tinges of gray in his crewcut, and while he still had the body of a Marine, it showed notable wear and tear. The younger cadet was smooth, pert and taut, with dark hair and skin, an olive complexion and deep, dark eyes.
As Moshe opened the door, he realized the younger man looked like a cadet — he wore a crew-cut and a faded green t-shirt with short shorts, both of which appeared to be Marine Corps-issued. They were wrinkled as though he had been roused from bed early in the morning to come here.
“Shalom, Moshe,” Sergeant Powers said. He smiled. Moshe had taught him the word ‘shalom’ a few weeks ago, and now he used it every chance he got. “This is Cadet Pucci. He has a favor to ask you. May we come in?”
“Uh… I suppose,” Moshe said. He led them into his living room, where they both sat down. The situation was tense — Sergeant Powers appeared angry, enough so that Moshe wondered if he had done something wrong. Cadet Pucci, however, looked upset and guilty, as though it was he who had done something wrong. Moshe felt small and girlish in comparison to these two hulking brutes. Moshe cleared his throat. “A favor? I’m sorry, do I know you, Cadet… Antonio?”
Cadet Pucci shook his head. His face was worried, his dimples deep. He licked his lips. “Name’s Cadet Pucci, sir. I was askin’ Sarge here, man, I was-” He stopped talking and winced as Sergeant Powers cleared his throat. Cadet Pucci started again, his voice stilted and awkward. “Good morning, sir. I was hoping I could get your assistance this morning. I am a cadet at Camp Pendleton, and I need a day off-“
“The fuck you do!” Sergeant Powers barked.
Cadet Pucci again blanched and looked down at his feet. “I don’t need a day off. I want one. I’m a lazy guido bastard,” he said, looking to Powers as though expecting him to confirm it — he nodded his assent to Pucci’s words. Then Cadet Pucci continued. “I already had some leave, two weeks ago. And I met this girl. She was beautiful, you wouldn’t even believe it, she looked like, bam! She-” Cadet Pucci stopped himself, his hands fluttered by his sides like he wanted to mime out the silhouette of her body. He cleared his throat. “Well, she was hot as a frying pan, shit! And she’s moving to Georgia, so tonight is the last time I might see her. And I asked my sergeant if I could move a day of leave up. I wouldn’t even have to miss any training, I could leave at night-“
“Tell him why I said no,” Sergeant Powers said gruffly. He placed one hand on Cadet Pucci’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I… I have not always been followin’ the rules,” Cadet Pucci said. “I snuck out before. That was just to get laid though. I didn’t love that girl.”
“You don’t love any girl,” Sergeant Powers said with a scoff, like he disbelieved in the entire concept.
“I do!” Cadet Pucci said as his cheeks blushed. He looked to Moshe. “And anyway, Sergeant Powers said I had to prove I loved her and I wasn’t just after sex.”
“I may be a hardass, but I ain’t gonna stand in the way of true love,” Sergeant Powers said, mockingly wiping a tear from his eye. “Cadet Pucci skipped over a few details. He tried to sneak out for trim four times — that I know of. I caught him each time, so he been skatin’ on very thin ice for some time. He has been one mouthy fuck since the day his wop-dago ass got here.”
“So… uh,” Cadet Pucci said. “If you want… you don’t have to, sir. But, uh, if you want… we could, y’know… do stuff.” His cheeks were red as cherries now. “Like… masturbation stuff.” That made Powers snort and laugh under his breath. Cadet Pucci added, “Or like, whatever. I could do stuff — it’d be worth it to do, you know… whatever. Like cornholing.”
“What?” Moshe was shocked — he had thought Cadet Pucci was going to ask for a ride or for help finding the local girl, something like that. Sometimes cadets at the military base did that. Moshe liked to help them out when he could.
And he liked to help them out when they let him play with their dicks, which they very often did. Nobody is hornier than a Marine at boot camp. Or not yet a Marine, an almost-Marine.
“He’ll do anything you want, Moshe,” Sergeant Powers said. “I want to see how devoted he is to this girl. Plus as long as he gets his rocks off now, I’ll now he ain’t motivated by overflowing balls neither.” He looked at Cadet Pucci and nodded. “Go on, tell him.”
Cadet Pucci sighed. “I’ll… jerk you off, and you can plow me in the ass as hard as you want.” He blushed intensely. Then he took off his shirt, revealing a perfectly tapered torso and a powerful chest, which he flexed. He smiled proudly, though still shamefully, as Moshe looked on. He was splendidly muscled, his shoulders as broad as a barn, and he reeked of youth and sweat and power. Moshe’s dick was already twitching in his pants.
“I thought you’d enjoy this,” Sergeant Powers said.
Moshe nodded. This was awkward, but he certainly was not going to refuse such an incredible opportunity. He wasn’t sure how to begin, and now that he knew what was happening, he couldn’t stop himself from jumping right into it. His dick jerked to half-mast just from the realization of what was about to happen.
After a few seconds of silence, Cadet Pucci closed his eyes like he expected Moshe to get started, which was exactly what he did. Moshe dropped to his knees.
He dove into Cadet Pucci’s crotch before he could drop those shorts, which were musty, moist and sprinkled with dried salt from Cadet Pucci’s sweat. He must have been doing PT in these shorts for weeks, Moshe thought, wondering how long it had been since they were washed. It smelled like a long-time. He tasted layers of dried-in funk. His thick cock and heavy balls were cradled beneath the fabric by his Marine Corps-issued underwear. Moshe licked the bulge from top to bottom, and stuck his head between Cadet Pucci’s trunk-like thighs. Sergeant Powers laughed, either out of discomfort or glee at Cadet Pucci’s stiff-bodied anxiety.
“At attention, solider!” Powers barked. Cadet Pucci stood straight and tall, arms trembling as Moshe’s hands explored his bare upper body. His pecs twitched beneath Moshe’s fingers. Additional beads of nervous sweat appeared on his shoulders, and Moshe smeared them over his musculature.
Horniness arising from deep within and overwhelming him, Moshe wanted desperately to taste every inch of Cadet Pucci’s body and to feel his cock deep inside him. But Moshe also enjoyed topping, and he knew he’d never get a chance to top someone like this again. So he was in a quandary about how to proceed — he decided his best bet was to help Cadet Pucci relax a little by swallowing his cumload first. This would be better for everyone if Cadet Pucci were aroused too, and a virile young Marine like Cadet Pucci would surely cum quickly.
Moshe pulled down Cadet Pucci’s shorts and underwear, whistling to show his appreciation at Pucci’s big uncut cock — alphas loved it when you pretended they had some uniquely huge and wonderful cock. Pucci’s was in fact huge and wonderful, but then Moshe liked all dicks, so it wasn’t unique. Still, the smell of his rank crotch and his heavy balls made Moshe wrinkle his nose as desire flooded him, and Moshe’s dick rocketed to full erection in his pants. Without a word of warning, Moshe swallowed it to the root, as Cadet Pucci gasped and struggled to remain at attention.
“That girl worth it, Cadet Pucci?” Sergeant Powers asked. From his vantage point, Moshe couldn’t see or hear Cadet Pucci’s response, but it must have been yes, judging from the way Powers grunted back at him. Then Cadet Pucci’s entire body stiffened even more, and he yelped. Moshe saw Sergeant Powers’s hand disappearing behind Moshe’s ass.
“You got a tight ass, Cadet. That must be why all the girls like you,” Powers said. He smirked and licked his teeth as he did something with his hand that made Cadet Pucci gasp, bug out and clench his teeth tight.
He must have stuck a finger in there, Moshe realized with a sense of shock. Cadet Pucci’s toes curled and his hands tightened into fists behind his back as he submitted to the fingering. But the prostate stimulation helped him get hard too, and soon his cock was pulsating in Moshe’s mouth.
The taste of precum hit Moshe’s tongue. Above his head, he heard Sergeant Powers get close enough he was nearly kissing Moshe on the cheek. He spoke softly but with an authoritarian tenor to his voice. “That girl still worth it?” He violently rammed his finger — or maybe more than one finger, Moshe couldn’t see — in and out of Cadet Pucci’s juicy asscheeks. Cadet Pucci yelped and blushed, and for a moment he wasn’t at attention, he was leaning on Moshe’s shoulder, his knees buckling as pain and prostate pleasure alike rocketed up his spine.
“Yes,” Cadet Pucci said through gritted teeth. His muscles undulated in sync with his sergeant’s finger ramming into his asshole. His muscles all flexed every time he winced. He bit his lip. “I have to see her this weekend. I love her. Sir.”
Moshe stood and took off his own clothes. He felt tiny next to these two hulking men. Moshe was short, fair-haired and smooth-bodied, lean and trim. He had always been skinny, and though he had been working on bulking up, he simply didn’t have the body type to get big. That was very much unlike Cadet Pucci, whose broad body and fat cock seemed to take up all of the space in this room.
“Gimme one of your hands, Cadet Pucci,” Moshe said as authoritatively as he could muster. Sergeant Powers chuckled at the weak tenor of his voice, and he repeated the order.
“Give ‘im a hand, Cadet Pucci.”
Cadet Pucci did so, gingerly placing his hand on Moshe’s cock. He shrank back as soon as he touched it, as though he had never touched a hard dick before. Then he gripped it again and gave it a tentative stroke.
Moshe had to stand on his toes to kiss Cadet Pucci on the lips, which he did even as Cadet Pucci kept his face straight and stony, so it was like kissing a warm statue. Moshe’s tongue pushed into Pucci’s mouth — on one level, it was a bad kiss, Pucci’s tongue was limp and still like a dead rooster, but on the other level, it was warm and nervous and oh-so-macho. Moshe didn’t mind the lack of passion, as he rather enjoyed the roughness of Pucci’s fingers and the shamefully aroused passion of his body, which still stood at attention. He wasn’t even really stroking Moshe’s cock anymore, he just held onto it loosely while Moshe humped his manhood into Cadet Pucci’s grip. It took all of Pucci’s focus to remain at attention with Sarge’s finger in his tight ass and Pucci’s own hand on Moshe’s precum-soaked cock.
Then Moshe leapt into Pucci’s arms and mounted his chest. Cadet Pucci grunted in surprise and nearly fell over, but he was strong enough to support Moshe even without preparing for it first. He looked down in shock at the sight of Moshe’s hard dick on Pucci’s gym-toned torso, spewed precum over his six-pack abs.
Scooting up Pucci’s trunk-like chest, Moshe let his dick rest between those mountainous pecs, which were still hard from the tension and the pain in his ass. Now that his head was over Pucci’s body, Moshe could see Sergeant Powers’s cruel smile as he wedged a second finger into Pucci’s asshole. His cheeks jiggled marvelously.
Using Pucci’s head for support, Moshe climbed up even farther, until his crotch was right in Pucci’s face. His dick leaked fluids over his nose and cheeks, and Cadet Pucci trembled as he tried hard to avoid gagging.
“This still worth it, Cadet?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Pucci’s voice was pinched and strained, and muffled by the cockshaft pulsating against his lips. He gagged as the taste of cock flooded his senses.
Moshe struggled to get his dick into Pucci’s mouth from this angle. He had to angle his hips outward, and Cadet Pucci had to support his ass with both hands, but when he did, Cadet Pucci swallowed his entire cock easily. He was a big man, so he had a big throat. Even as it spasmed and choked on the flavor, and Cadet Pucci blushed intensely, he let Moshe’s dick enter his throat. He swallowed it down deep, until his nose was nestled in Moshe’s crotch.
A moan escaped from Moshe’s lips, as Antonio gagged. Cadet Pucci had that thick lustrous dark hair that Italian men were known for. It was cut into a short Marine Corps crew-cut, but it was obvious that he had perfect politician’s-hair when he let it grow out. Moshe gripped his head, savoring the rolls of flesh in the back of his scalp as he shoved his dick down the man’s spasming throat.
From this vantage point, Moshe saw Sergeant Powers’s hand in Pucci’s ass. He smiled at Moshe, who threw his head back and moaned, and Sergeant Powers slowly worked a second finger in. Cadet Pucci bucked and he nearly fell over again, but managed to stay standing, despite the series of gags wracking his throat.
“Keep at attention, Cadet!”
It didn’t take very much for Moshe to feel his orgasm coming. He didn’t want to end like this, without plowing Cadet Pucci in the tight Italian ass, so he hopped down from the man’s shoulders. Pucci’s entire face was moist with precum and his own saliva, which dripped from his lips — he couldn’t wipe his face off without breaking his posture, so he remained there with his wrinkled-nose face shiny, manfluids running in rivulets down his square jaw.
“Gimme twenty!” Moshe said, and after a moment’s hesitation to consider whether to obey, Cadet Pucci dropped to the ground.
He began doing push-ups, counting them off as Sarge put one hand on his bare back to guide him. As he did so, Moshe mounted Pucci’s ass, just wedging his dick between the cheeks for now. Antonio struggled to keep going with the push-ups now that he had Moshe’s weight on his back. His firm back muscles flexed beneath Moshe’s smooth body.
“One!” Sergeant Powers said as he watched Cadet Pucci struggle to get his push-ups right. “I ain’t countin’ these granny-push-ups, Cadet. Do ’em properly!”
Cadet Pucci began doing push-ups much more slowly with Moshe’s weight on his back. He grunted and heaved with each motion. His powerful biceps worked up and down.
“C’mon, Cadet, don’t give up!” Sergeant Powers barked. He got on his knees right in front of Pucci’s face and demanded he keep going. Pucci’s back muscles strained, covered in sweat.
As Cadet Pucci struggled to finish his push-ups, Moshe again had to work on his angle so he could penetrate the cadet. He lowered his body until his cock lined up with Pucci’s ass, then he managed to get the tip of his dick in while still resting his body on Pucci’s ass. Instantly, Cadet Pucci dropped to the floor, gritting his teeth with pain. He squirmed there.
“Get up, Cadet! You fuckin’ pussy! If you can’t finish these push-ups, I swear to Christ you’ll never do a push-up without a cock in your ass again!”
Cadet Pucci struggled back to supporting himself on his arms and legs, while Moshe worked his dick in deeper, rocking his body back and forth to help it slide in. Pucci’s hole had been loosened a bit by Sarge’s fingers, but it was still so tight Moshe though he might cum from the moment he entered. The squeeziness of his booty sent waves of pleasure to crash through Moshe’s twink frame.
“He keepin’ hisself open how you want it, Moshe?” Sergeant Powers asked.
“Yeah, Sarge,” Moshe said. “He’s doin’ good.” That was when Moshe noticed that Powers had a bulge in his shorts too. Moshe reached for that bulge without giving it a second thought, and blushed when Sergeant Powers smiled.
“Stick it in me…” Moshe said, his voice weak and breathless as he worked to hold back his orgasm. He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Pucci’s ass, letting it throb there,
Powers grinned. He smacked Pucci’s ass and laughed at how the motion made him writhe and flex every muscle on his powerful body. Then Sergeant Powers got behind Moshe and pulled his shorts down.
He rammed his dick in hard and grunted as it melted right in. Moshe was well-practiced at taking huge cocks like his — and at taking Powers’s cock specifically — so he gritted his teeth and submitted to it. He dug his nails into Pucci’s broad back as he loosened himself up. He lost himself in the exquisite sandwich of Marine meat both in front and behind him.
Cadet Pucci stopped doing push-ups. Nobody was counting anymore, but Moshe was fairly sure he had hit at least twenty — though Sergeant Powers had refused to count many of them. Regardless, Cadet Pucci lay flat on the ground now, grunting with every thrust of Moshe’s dick and yelping when Powers thrust into Moshe, which forced Moshe to penetrate Cadet Pucci even harder.
Moshe felt like a bug being squashed between two large stone statues. Powers, however, was a bit soft — he was bigger than Cadet Pucci, but older, hairier and less perfectly etched. Moshe was fine with that. While he certainly appreciated the Hollywood-handsome good lucks of Cadet Pucci, he enjoyed the burly hairiness of Sergeant Powers as well.
As Moshe neared orgasm, he rested his face in Pucci’s broad, sweat-covered back. He licked his strapping muscles. Above him, Powers did much the same, resting his weight partially on his knees but also on Moshe. That put Powers’s head above Moshe and near Pucci’s ruddy, wincing face.
“You like this, Cadet?”
“Sir, no, sir!”
“Good,” Powers said. He laughed as he licked Pucci’s earlobe, making Cadet Pucci shudder in humiliation and agony. Moshe managed to get one of his hands under Pucci’s body, and was surprised to feel a rock-hard cock — he must really enjoy prostate stimulation, Moshe thought. He stroked Pucci’s dick the best he could, and Cadet Pucci began humping his hips instinctively.
“Tell me when you feel cum in yer ass,” Sergeant Powers said. When Cadet Pucci winced and looked away, he repeated himself. “I wanna cum at the same time. So tell me.”
It looked like Cadet Pucci didn’t want to acknowledge the feeling of semen in his ass, but he nodded anyway. As Moshe felt his orgasm approach, Powers lifted both Cadet Pucci and Moshe, so all three were on their knees. Moshe was still sandwiched between the huge men on both sides of him, and Moshe barely even moved himself, allowing both men’s powerful bodies to provide all the motion. Moshe just licked and sucked on the taut muscles all around him.
In the end, Cadet Pucci acknowledged it even before Moshe had realized he was cumming. His orgasm washed over his body and made him shudder with delight. His spine was wracked by exquisite pain from his ass, which mingled with the pleasure he felt all over. Hot cum sprayed within Pucci’s asshole.
Then, a few seconds later, both Cadet Pucci and Sergeant Powers shot their own load. Powers had a huge wad that sunk into every corner of Moshe’s body, while Cadet Pucci bucked and gagged when he shot his load into the palm of Moshe’s waiting hand.
While all three dicks limpened, Moshe raised his handful of steaming cum to Pucci’s mouth. Cadet Pucci gagged again, and winced, still in pain from Moshe’s dick in his ass.
“Open your mouth, Cadet,” Sergeant Powers said. “Still worth it?”
Cadet Pucci opened his mouth. “Absolutely worth it, Sarge.” Moshe emptied the cumload into Pucci’s mouth, and sighed as Pucci’s ass clenched around his cock once more. Cadet Pucci choked and gagged down every drop.
And then it was at last over. Powers dismounted Moshe, who pulled away from Pucci’s naked, moist body. Cadet Pucci collapsed onto the ground, but only for a moment before Sergeant Powers barked at him to get up.
“Up, Cadet, at attention!”
Pucci’s ass was in terrible pain, so his knees buckled, but he managed to stand at attention. His limp dick hung between his legs. Moshe giggled as he stroked it and got a few nervous shakes from Pucci’s body, tensing his muscles again as his overly sensitive dick throbbed in Moshe’s fingers.
Moshe smiled. “I guess his love is true, Sarge,” he said.
Sarge nodded. “I sure thought he’d back out,” he said. “Alright, Cadet Pucci, you can have your leave, and I won’t charge you for conduct unbecoming.”
Cadet Pucci gasped. “Thank you, Sergeant Powers,” he said, then added, “And Moshe, thank you too.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps when I want an extra night off in the future-“
“Absolutely-” Moshe said, but was interrupted by Sergeant Powers.
“No way, Cadet. Next time, you submit to me,” Powers said with a grin.

Boot Camp

Sgt. Powers is a no-nonsense drill sergeant who tolerates a bit of nonsense: horseplay! He doesn’t mind his cadets dipping into the down and dirty, especially if it means he gets to bend a soldier over and give him what-for!

Can he keep control over his squad of alpha male recruits?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Drill Sergeant Powers stood behind the barracks, peering into the window. He stood on the air conditioner so he could see in the high window to the showering area in the back of the barracks. He smiled as he watched Cadet Willie Redman sit on Nathaniel Muckham’s face.
Two dozen of the heftiest, most athletic cadets in the Army were in those barracks, and Powers watched them shower. He could have gone in there, but then they would have stopped and he couldn’t watch any more. He liked to watch the hijinks.
Redman’s shower-glistening body was broadly muscled, and every one of those muscles seemed to be in use as he squatted over Muckham’s face. It wasn’t a rimjob, of course. Muckham had a bet, so he allowed Redman to sit on his face, as the others chanted and cheered. It was only for a moment. Had he farted on his face? Maybe, but Powers didn’t think so. He could hear them laughing as Muckham blushed and clawed at his own cheeks.
Then they all started dancing and Powers was confused — a sudden dance party? Was this a Japanese game show?
But then he heard a pounding techno beat. That seemed to be A Thing, which he didn’t understand because he was too old — every once in a while, this generation of cadets put on electronic music and they all danced like club kids. It wouldn’t have been strange if they actually enjoyed that kind of music, but not a single one of them actually chose to listen to it in any other context.
Powers didn’t understand the younger generations.
They danced together for about a minute, stopping only when someone slapped Cadet Haruto Amasuzi’s ass. It soon degenerated into a torrent of laughter and horseplay — they treated each other like strippers, slapping each other’s ass and jiggling their buttcheeks in front of each other’s faces.
Drill Sergeant Powers began masturbating. He was just inches from those plump asses — inches that included the wall of the showerhouse — and he could even taste the soapy shower water as it covered their taut skin.
These were not any random collection of Army recruits. They had been chosen to be on the US Army wrestling team. They were given a shared barrack and Powers was put in charge of their training, all because the Army was tired of losing to the Navy in wrestling.
It was Powers’s job to turn them into champion wrestlers, and hopefully soldiers as well.
Inside the barracks, the horseplay had turned into a game called Boner Loses. They didn’t invent it, it had been passed down from an earlier group of cadets. Drill Sergeant Powers had even played a very similar game back when he was a new recruit, which felt like it was eons ago. Powers was glad that Cadet Redman was going to play this game now, because he really hoped to watch Redman lose.
Willie Redman frantically tried to come up with way to get out of it, but he came up with nothing. Everyone expected him to do it, and Willie wasn’t willing to violate their expectations like that — they were his expectations too. That’s because Willie saw himself as more sexually experienced than anyone else here. He had had sex with nine girls, more than anyone else in his barracks. He had had sex with two women at once. He had had sex with an older woman.
So he thought he was well-suited to win Boner Loses. That was a game wherein the player (Willie) stood still while another player (usually someone who had lost a bet, in this case Haruto Amasuzi) had to put his dick in his mouth.
“Do it!”
“Oh, nasty, he’s really doing it!”
“You can lick it if you want, Haruto!”
Haruto just kneeled and winced and gagged before letting Willie’s limp dick flop onto his tongue. Haruto gagged again as he felt wiry pubic hair rub against his cheek and his tongue.
The object of the game was not to get hard. If Willie got an erection, he was required to lick Haruto’s dick. That was it, that was the whole game, just don’t get a boner. When the older cadets had first explained it to Willie, he thought it was beyond stupid. He thought no one would ever play that “game”.
But the others had done it. Willie didn’t want to be the only one who was too prudish to join in. So he never told anyone he disliked it, and he even pretended he was always trying to get others to play it (that was virtually part of the game: no one ever wanted to play it, but it was fun to cajole others into playing it).
Since he was not an undersexed hornball like these other soldiers, Willie thought he would be alright. He wasn’t going to get hard for no reason. So he was alarmed to feel Haruto’s mouth silkily encircle his dick as Willie’s whole body twitched. He couldn’t pull away or stop, he could do nothing but watch as his dick firmed up in Haruto’s mouth. He watched it happen in slow-motion, like some horrible scene in a terrifying movie.
“Ah, shit, Willie lost!”
“On your knees, boy!”
Willie sighed and blushed. He knew the best way to avoid being humiliated was to simply pretend it wasn’t a big deal, so that was what he did. He rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees. He was much taller than Haruto, so he had to stoop to reach his crotch.
This wasn’t the first time this game had degenerated into dome. Willie never thought it would be him that did it. He didn’t want to be a wuss who refused to follow through. No one still made fun of Martin, who had been the first to lose this game.
So he opened his mouth and swallowed Haruto’s dick, gagging again — Haruto had taken a dick in his mouth a few weeks ago when he was on the other side of this game. T
It seemed so silly, Martin thought as he closed his eyes. Haruto’s cock stiffened up, and it jabbed down his throat. The taste of salty, musty dickmeat flooded his senses. He tried to think about anything other than that taste and the jeers and laughter of the cadets surrounding him.
When he was in college in an ROTC program before joining the Army, Willie had been the most popular guy on campus. He was the most athletic man anyone knew. That was why he had been recruited for the Army wrestling team. He was a state champion wrestler back in Pennsylvania.
So it had been difficult for him to accept that he was no longer the top athlete around. He was one of many athletes, and the officers of the US Army were strict in an entirely different way than any of his coaches had ever been. He did not like that he wasn’t in charge of hazing like he had been in college. He was one of many men here, each of them equally “in charge” most of the time.
It had been difficult to accept. So Willie struggled with his pride as he licked his compatriot’s dick. At first he thought he could just get it over with, it wouldn’t be a big deal unless he made it a big deal — he used to get freshmen to lick his balls when he was working out, so he was all sweaty, so he’d be a hypocrite if he regarded it as beyond the pale for him to be hazed similarly. It was just difficult to accept.
Willie’s face turned red, and his wrestling-toned chest was ruddy, sticky with the spit that dripped from his square chin. He was surprised at how much saliva he produced — girls didn’t normally, unless he could encourage them to, but he wasn’t trying to do this. Somehow he made loud gurgling sounds which would have been embarrassing except that his barrackmates howled peals of laughter that drowned out the sound.
Outside, Drill Sergeant Powers masturbated furiously.
He fully intended to get into Cadet Willie Redman’s ass eventually, and he could stand here and watch those cheeks jiggle all night long. He inhaled deeply of the musky scent that emanated out of the barracks, which was enough to send him over the line into orgasm.
Cum sprayed onto the air conditioner he stood on, while Powers watched Willie swallow Amasuzi’s load. Cadet Haruto Amasuzi bellowed and barked and pounded on his chest, moaning more passionately than he probably needed to — he exaggerated to humiliate Willie more.
“He’s swallowin’ it!”
“How’s that cum taste, man?!”
Sour, salty cum sprayed into Willie’s mouth, coating his tongue in thick, sticky spooge. Willie gagged once again, though the most compelling fact he noticed was that cum didn’t really taste bad, or at least, not worse than vagina. He allowed that sticky fluid to flow down his throat.
As soon as Amasuzi let go of his head, Willie pulled off and winced. Everyone laughed and clasped him on the shoulder.
“Didja like that, Willie?”
Willie blushed. He stood up straight, making certain everyone could see that he held his head high. For a brief second, he thought he saw his drill sergeant’s face in the window, but then it was gone. Willie was glad. He’d have been humiliated if he knew Powers had seen him.
He was just glad the game was over. After that they showered and changed to go out on leave. This was the first night of leave they’d had in weeks, so Willie and all the others looked forward to it. Boot camp was almost over.
They headed out, all but two of the cadets: William Morton and Tommy Draper. Powers told the two of them to suit up for some wrestling practice. They dourly did so. Those two did not have leave because they were in the doghouse.
The practice proceeded quickly, as it wasn’t a real practice, Sergeant Powers simply wanted the cadets to begin with something easy. They were both good wrestlers. He had them scrimmages, and he cheered them both on.
“Go for it, Morton!” Powers clapped and barked. “You got it, Tommy!”
The scrimmage proceeded as he had thought. He knew Morton would lose. He simply wasn’t as good. He was stronger than Cadet Tommy Draper, but he was slower and not as smart or tactical. Of course Tommy won.
“Alright, alright, you two go shower up,” Powers said. He was glad the practice was finally over. He slapped them both on the ass through their sweat-soaked singlets, and he took the opportunity to savor both meaty asses.
Everyone but these two was out on leave. Powers had been forced to take away Draper’s and Morton’s leave because they failed this silly test about sexual assault and racial tolerance. It wasn’t even a real failure, they simply hadn’t taken it seriously. They thought it was more like a survey, and they just filled in the bubbles without reading the questions.
So Powers made them retake the test, and he made sure they took it seriously this time. He didn’t let them continue until they filled out all of the correct answers.
“Good job, boys,” he said when they were done. He had really only wanted Draper to practice — Morton was not likely to make weight in time for the tournament, and he wasn’t very good besides. Powers saw him as a backup. If one of the others was forced to leave the Army, Morton would be a real part of the team.
A big part of the problem was that Morton was so handsome and charming. He had no need to be good at anything because he got laid plenty — he had no need to change. Girls thought he was hot and didn’t care how good he actually was at wrestling. Morton smiled a lot and had plenty of friends, so he seemed only dimly aware of the fact that he simply wasn’t very good.
But Morton wasn’t smiling today, as he walked away towards the barracks alongside Tommy. He wished he had had his leave taken away with literally anyone besides Tommy. Morton felt nervous — he often got the feeling Drill Sergeant Powers watched his ass shake in those tiny green Army shorts. Today Powers had slapped his ass and held on for a few seconds, but even after that, Morton could feel someone staring at his ass. When he turned around, Powers was gone.
It was going to be a long night in for the both of them, made worse by the fact that Morton was gonna have to take it up the ass from his buddy Tommy. Morton had lost a bet.
“Gonna ram you in the a-a-a-sssssss…” Draper sang a little, laughing when he saw Morton blush. “Come on, let’s get it out of the way.”
“Fine.” Morton bit his lip.
During their last leave, they had both been horny. They spent the entire day talking about how horny they were and how much they were going to get laid. Then they made a bet — Morton always did so well with girls he assumed he would get laid. He promised he would, and he said that if he didn’t, he’d let Draper ram him in the ass. Draper made the same bet. Morton assumed Draper would fail and he would succeed, but the opposite had happened.
So now, this weekend, Morton had to give up the ass.
The barracks was empty, but it still stank of men and stale underwear. Morton wished they could do it somewhere else, but this was the only spot on the whole base where they could be sure Drill Sergeant Powers wasn’t around. That man somehow seemed to be everywhere, Morton thought.
Tommy Draper spat on his cock for lube. He was almost as nervous as Morton, but he hid it well. He laughed and slapped Morton’s ass, cheering when those cheeks rippled. It really was a nice ass, he thought, if only it was attached to a woman.
He slid his dick in, grimacing when he felt it enter Morton’s tight asshole. Morton grunted and immediately clenched.
Neither of them moved. “Damn it,” Morton said with a grunt. His face turned red as Draper began drilling his dick in farther and farther. “Ah, oh, shit…” Morton’s voice was weak and thready.
“Damn… Oh, shit…” Tommy said more or less the same word, but his had an entirely different tone. He was shocked at how good this felt. He had thought ramming a man in the ass would be worse than a girl, or at best maybe the same so long as he didn’t feel any hair or accidentally grab for where her tits would be. But it was actually far better.
He didn’t know if it was better because Morton was intact (presumably) or because he was simply better, or maybe because Tommy didn’t need to worry about making his bottom enjoy it. He didn’t need to make Morton feel good, so he could focus on slamming away at that tight wrestler ass.
Morton kept squirming, and he clawed at the bunk beneath him. The most embarrassing part, he thought, was that it wasn’t entirely painful — he felt pleasure too. It happened very slowly, growing with every thrust of Tommy’s cock inside him.
Vague and distant at first, overpowered by the pain, Morton’s prostate orgasm grew more potent over time. Soon he was moaning and grunting with bliss, not agony, though he avoided making that obvious so Tommy wouldn’t know. The one way, he thought, that would ensure he was teased for this forever was to enjoy it.
But he had to admit there was a certain amount of pleasure that came with it. He moaned and bucked and writhed beneath Tommy’s body.
Just like the pleasure in Morton’s ass, Tommy’s own passion had grown slowly over time. At first he tried to avoid touching Morton any more than absolutely necessary. But the more excited he got by this, the more he pounded away, and the more he actually touched Morton.
Soon, Tommy’s hands gripped his back, trying to pretend his muscled shoulders were a female’s. Tommy closed his eyes. He lowered his chest until he pressed down on Morton’s body, ramming him wildly, grunting and moaning into his ear.
“Oh, fuck…” Morton moaned, and the tremulous note to his voice made it clear he was enjoying himself.
Only Powers was able to detect that though. Tommy was too engrossed in his powerful plowing. Powers shot his wad onto the outside wall of the barracks, just as he caught his first whiff of cum from the soldiers.
Morton did shoot his own load onto the bunk beneath him, but he managed to avoid being obvious about it, so Tommy didn’t notice that either. Tommy slammed into Morton until his balls crawled up in his sac, and he shot a thick load that coated Morton’s insides.
“Ah, shit yeah, take it, man!” Tommy closed his eyes and moaned. He sprayed the biggest wad of his life, and it spread within Morton. Tommy loved cumming inside girls, and he was surprised to see that he loved cumming inside boys just as much. He could have stayed like that forever, feeling victorious once again and dominating Morton’s powerful body.
At last he was done. Tommy pulled out, slapped Morton’s ass once and laughed as he squirmed. Morton groaned loudly.
“Shit,” Morton said. He breathed heavily. He hoped Willie didn’t notice that he had cum too. “That hurt.”
Tommy snorted like a cocky bastard. “Of course it hurt.” He grabbed his dick. “That’s cuz I got huge meat.” He paused. “It ain’t feel good too, did it?”
Morton blushed and protested a little too vociferously. “No! No, man, that was terrible. The worst. I ain’t enjoy that at all.”
They both headed back to the barracks then. Drill Sergeant Powers had disappeared at some point. Morton didn’t notice where he went. But as he passed by his office, he saw him in his office, with a cadet named Wojohowitz, who looked like he was in trouble. Morton hurried pst.
Cadet Wojohowitz was the best wrestler in the unit, so Powers didn’t want to kick him out. As he stood there, watching Wojohowitz’s nearly-naked body take the news, Powers’s heart broke.
Wojohowitz was young and thick-bodied, a star heavyweight wrestler. He was honestly not the best soldier, just the best wrestler, but as far as Powers’s superiors were concerned, wrestling was more important anyway.
Wojohowitz quiveringly said it was his girl, that she had smoked a joint and he hadn’t taken a hit but he had inhaled some. Powers believed him, but he didn’t have any control over this rule: A failed drug test means the soldier must go.
“Sir, I swear, I didn’t smoke any of it. I don’t have a drug problem, sir.”
Powers flared his nostrils. “Don’t beg, cadet. You’ll be okay-“
“I — I’ve been looking forward to the Army for so long.” He stood there in his boxers, his muscles rippling. “Uh… Sir… My dad said, uh… back when he was in the Army… he said that, like, if you was really regretful ‘bout something, like… your drill sergeant was, y’know… you could get a second chance if you was willing to… like… y’know-“
“Cadet, what in the bloody hell are you talking about?”
“My dad said… you could ram… you know, that I could give up the ass, and you’d, y’know, see that as a sign that I’m in the for the long haul, that I’m willing to do what it takes to stay,” Wojohowitz said. “I swear, I won’t let girls smoke weed around me. I won’t even go to any concerts. I promise.”
“You’ll give up the booty if I give you a second chance?”
Wojohowitz nodded.
Powers pretended to think about it. He had been waiting for an opportunity to get in Cadet Wojohowitz’s plump ass. It was going to be so tight Powers was already drooling. But Powers pretended to be reluctant. “I don’t know, cadet… Look… In my day, a man could ram another man in the ass as long as he had the common courtesy of giving a reacharound,” he said. He sighed grandly; he hoped he didn’t sound too eager. “So bend over, cadet.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Wojohowitz said. His voice broke a little as he knelt over his own bunk, sticking his ass in the air. He thought he could do this. No one would ever know, he thought, since he was pretty sure Sergeant Powers wouldn’t tell anyone.
Powers sighed. He had been waiting to get in this ass for a long time. Wojohowitz’s ass was so thick and juicy he couldn’t resist. Powers had a plan to make the drug test go away. He could claim to his superiors that the lab had suggested it might be a false positive. That could happen — they had said that with a result two months ago, they said they needed another sample to be sure because this one was weakly positive (the second sample turned out to be negative). He could put off the replacement drug test for a month to make sure Wojohowitz could clean himself up, or maybe Powers could just supply his own piss instead.
Regardless, he could do it. It was worth it to get in that tight ass. He moaned as his cock slid in, and Wojohowitz’s muscles all twitched. He had that cocky alpha strut, which Powers loved to ram out of a soldier. He smiled when he saw Wojohowitz’s toes curl — Powers knew what that meant: pleasure. Somewhere deep within Wojohowitz, his prostate was coming alive and making him feel such pleasure he couldn’t even acknowledge it yet.
Powers slammed the rest of his cock in, sliding his coarsely-furred forearm in front of Wojohowitz’s mouth. Wojohowitz bucked and grunted — he would have shouted but the sensations inside him were too intense.
“You can bite down on my arm,” Powers said. His left arm was in place for Wojohowitz to bite on — which he did, biting hard enough to make Powers’s arm cry out in pain; he didn’t stop though because Powers always liked feeling just a little pain while he rammed. It made it better.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Wojohowitz said. He was surprised at how much it helped to bite down. It was a good distraction from the pain. He gnawed on the firm muscle of his sergeant’s arm.
And then Wojohowitz realized the pain was going away anyway. That’s because Sergeant Powers reached out and grabbed Wojohowitz’s dick. He stroked it, gently and slowly at first. Wojohowitz moaned and found himself licking the salty-sweat off his drill sergeant’s forearm.
He blushed, not that anyone could see it. Wojohowitz was shocked and humiliated at how easily he got hard with a dick in his ass. It felt impossibly big. He wondered how big it really was. Was Sergeant Powers’s cock bigger than his?
But he couldn’t have asked right now even if he was willing to, because the feelings that rocked his body were too intense. Sergeant Powers’s muscled, hairy chest pressed down on Redman’s smooth back. Wojohowitz grimaced a little, as he wasn’t used to feeling a man’s chest muscles rippling over his skin. Sergeant Powers had that distinct “old man texture”, he thought, not wrinkled but well-worn, his skin coarse in parts, his chest hairy and stinky with sweat.
But even despite all that, Wojohowitz had never been more aroused. He gasped and groaned, rubbing his face against Drill Sergeant’s forearm. He bit down hard enough to taste blood.
Powers didn’t notice that. He was singularly focused on his cock, which rammed into Wojohowitz’s intact ass and stayed there as he came. His balls crawled up in his sac and he filled Wojohowitz with his creamy seed.
“You ready, son?”
“Sir, yes, yes,” Wojohowitz said, his normally confident voice now weak and wavery. He wasn’t scared though, because he trusted his drill sergeant implicitly. He knew this would all be okay. When it was over, he’d be able to pretend that he hadn’t been rammed by a man and, even more importantly, that he hadn’t liked it.
He shot his own load onto the floor beneath himself, coating Powers’s hand as his reacharound continued. Despite it being just a handjob and despite the limpening cock in his own ass, Wojohowitz experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life.
He writhed beneath his drill sergeant’s firm embrace, and his asshole squeezed around his dick. Both men grunted, their mouths so close together they nearly kissed. Pleasure coursed through both men’s veins.
But then it was over. Drill Sergeant Powers stood, and they both sighed together when his dick finally plopped out. Cadet Wojohowitz twitched.
“At attention, cadet.”
Wojohowitz’s knees were weak, and his cheeks were red. But he managed to stand on uncertain legs. His cock dangled, still dripping cum onto the floor. Sergeant Powers grabbed it and squeezed.
“Good work, cadet,” he said. “You’ve proven your dedication to the Army.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Cadet Wojohowitz had never responded with such confidence and swagger. He didn’t know why, he just suddenly felt better than he had in a long time, even if his ass was still sore. “I’m glad I don’t have to leave the service, sir. I want to serve the Army for as long as I can.”
Powers stood up, dick dangling and dripping fluids onto the barrack floor. “Son, you’ll be able to serve the Army for life.” He walked away with a proud grin on his face.

Yes Drill Sergeant!

Private Nathaniel Muckham is in trouble again, writing checks his ass is gonna have to back! That’s cuz his cruel drill sergeant is the legendary Drill Sergeant Manstrong Powers, who’s been known to make his cadets bend over and take it!

Can Private Muckham handle the punishment Sgt. Powers is ready to dish out?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here

Nathaniel started quaking in his boots as soon as he saw Sergeant Powers. That was because Nathaniel had snuck out of the barracks at Fort Rumblemore today to fuck with this slut who had been begging for his cock. He didn’t have any leave, so he was technically AWOL for a couple hours.
But Nathaniel had made it back on base without getting caught. He and the other soldiers in his unit talked and played cards most of the night, and Nathaniel had slyly refused to tell them what he did while teasing them about it. Eventually he had had no choice but to let it slip.
But there was no way his squadmates would have ratted him out. Even if they had wanted to, nobody left the barracks. There was no time for anyone to have squealed to Drill Sergeant Powers.
Now it was past dawn, and everyone was putting their shorts on to get ready for the early morning routine.
Judging from the sweat that clung to his burly body, Sergeant Powers had already begun his morning run. His middle-aged body was craggy and weathered but packed with powerful muscles. Was Sergeant Powers here to yell at Nathaniel? He couldn’t imagine how he would know what had happened last night.
But when Powers stepped in and bellowed, “Atten-tion!”, Nathaniel knew that he had been caught. Powers stared right at Nathaniel, who snapped to his feet and saluted in sync with the other soldiers in the barracks. He wore only thin white briefs, which made him feel naked and vulnerable — if he had known Sergeant Powers was going to come into the barracks, he’d have worn shorts. He didn’t usually come into the barracks this early in the morning though.
Nathaniel had always been the biggest, toughest guy around, but now that he was in the Army, there was always someone stronger and larger not that far away. It had been humbling for him.
Sergeant Powers was one of those men who put Nathaniel to shame. Sergeant Powers was so big he had to send away for Army boots and pants that fit him. He stooped to get into the barracks. The sweat-stained green t-shirt he wore bulged against his muscles like it was too small for him.
He came close to Nathaniel, then came even closer, until they were foot to foot and nose to nose. “Some of you think that this place is like a resort, where you can come and go whenevuh you want,” Sergeant Powers said. He snorted and grabbed his nuts through his boxer shorts. When he moved his hand away, his limp, greasy cock flopped out through the fly.
Everyone else in the barracks gasped. It was impossible that Sergeant Powers didn’t realize what had happened, but he either did it deliberately or decided to roll with it. Nathaniel was shocked by how big it was. He had always kind of assumed that not every part of Sergeant Powers could be gigantic, that the rumors about his cock couldn’t be true. He just hoped the other rumors weren’t true either.
Sergeant Powers was sometimes called — not to his face — Sergeant Sodomy, because he was rumored to ramrod soldiers under his command. Supposedly a private had awoken to Powers fucking him one night, and he ended up needing stitches in his rectum and had to be discharged from the Army because he couldn’t march straight. Nathaniel had never believed those stories, but now he wasn’t so sure.
He gulped. Sergeant Powers screwed up his eyes right in front of him, so close they were practically kissing. He had been talking, but Nathaniel was entranced by that swinging cock. He didn’t know what Sergeant Powers had said.
“Huh? Private Muckham?” Sergeant Powers leaned in close, his toothpaste-scented breath condensing on Nathaniel’s face. It was hot and minty, an odd combination, and it made Nathaniel wrinkle his nose.
Then his massive hand cupped Nathaniel’s cock and balls through his boxers. The other soldiers gasped again, and Nathaniel’s knees went weak. He expected pain, assuming that Powers was going to squeeze his sac, but he didn’t. He just cradled Nathaniel’s genitals gently — but firmly — with one of his big, meaty hands.
“Sir, I’m sorry, sir,” Nathaniel said. He tried to sound confident.
“Did you hear the question I asked you, Private Shitface?”
“Sir… No. I’m sorry, sir,” Nathaniel said. Some of his fellow soldiers snickered.
“I ain’t think so. I asked you a question. I’m gonna pretend you was listenin’ to me and you answered me truthfully, Shitface,” Sergeant Powers said. “That okay with you?” His hands played with Nathaniel’s balls through the thin fabric of the Army-issue briefs he wore.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“Do you want me to tell the MPs what ya answer was, Private Shitface?”
“Uh… Sir… I don’t know, uh-“
Now he squeezed. He darted his hand beneath the waistband of Nathaniel’s underwear, gripped his cock and balls hard and squeezed, just hard enough to make Nathaniel wince and flash with pain. His knees buckled and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself.
Now everyone gasped. Nathaniel even heard whispering — they were all attention, so that wasn’t allowed — and the term Sergeant Sodomy came out of someone’s mouth. Nathaniel prayed that wasn’t what was going to happen. Nathaniel hadn’t even missed any assignments or duties. It wasn’t a big deal, Nathaniel thought, he’d probably have kitchen duty for a few weeks. He didn’t even hate kitchen duty like most of the other soldiers — Nathaniel had grown up working in his parents’ restaurant, so peeling potatoes reminded him of home.
“Why not? If you happy wit’ me choosing the truthful answer, you should be okay with the military police findin’ out. That’s just logic, ain’t it?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Nathaniel said. He knew from dealing with Sergeant Powers in the past that it would be better for him to just admit it now. “Sir… I’m sorry. I snuck off-base last night. I shouldn’t have. It was just, there was a girl…”
“A girl?” Sergeant Powers said with a grin. “Why ain’t you say so? A girl. That makes anything okay, Private Shitface.” He took his hand off Nathaniel’s sweaty balls, then held it beneath Nathaniel’s nose. It smelled like stanky cockmeat, and Nathaniel wrinkled his nose. “Suck my hand clean, Private Shitface.”
“Ah shit, he’s doin’ it…”
“I told ya!”
The whispering seemed so loud now, Nathaniel couldn’t imagine why Sergeant Powers wasn’t yelling at them to get back at attention. But his dark, craggy face remained aimed directly at Nathaniel’s face, so close the tips of their noses glancingly touched. After a moment’s hesitation, Nathaniel did as he was told. Sergeant Powers slowly made him suck on all five fingers, and then Nathaniel licked his rough-skinned palm. He gagged at the salty flavor and callused texture of Sergeant Powers’s middle-aged man-flesh.
He thought that would be it. He just took Sergeant Powers’s finger in his mouth, gagged loudly and endured giggling from the other soldiers.
But it didn’t end there.
When Sergeant Powers took his hand away, Nathaniel’s mouth felt dry and dirty. He wanted to go brush his teeth. He could feel grainy dirt or maybe sweat-salt sticking to his tongue, and it made him gag even when he was done sucking Sergeant Powers’s hand.
“You put this whole unit at risk, Private Shitface.” He paused. “You know what? I’m gonna call you Private Fuckup from now on. That’s more appropriate, ain’t it?”
“Uh… Sir, yes, Drill Sergeant, sir, if you think so,” Nathaniel said.
“That’s appropriate cuz I’m gonna fuck you up, private,” Sergeant Powers said. He laughed when the others gasped and Nathaniel went white as a sheet. Sergeant Powers licked Nathaniel’s face from his chin to his forehead. “You taste like pussy. Is that cuz you was eatin’ pussy earlier? Or do you just taste like pussy? Either way, I’m gonna ramrod you.”
“Uh… sir?”
“What? You got a question?” He got up so close to Nathaniel that his massive cock pressed against Nathaniel’s bare thigh. Was it already hard? Nathaniel sure hoped so. It felt a little fleshy, but he couldn’t imagine it would get bigger. It was at least twelve inches long, he thought, maybe more. Nathaniel felt its veiny shaft pulsating against his well-muscled thigh.
“Get down on your knees,” he said with a sneer.
“Holy shit, do we have to watch this?”
“Private Muckham’s about to become Private Punk-’em.”
Nathaniel slid down to the ground amid snorts of muffled laughter. He looked around as though his fellow squadmates might rescue him, but they all stood at attention, trying to avoid looking at Nathaniel.
Then Sergeant Powers flopped his limp cock onto Nathaniel’s face.
Instantly Nathaniel gagged. It smelled so bad he thought something was wrong. A part of his mind recognized that it just smelled like a nasty pussy — which he had gotten drunk and licked before. By its nature penis smelled like vagina, and the only reason Sergeant Powers’s smelled bad was that he had just run two miles and spent an hour lifting weights. Nathaniel would later be told that Sergeant Powers always did that — that was why he hadn’t confronted Nathaniel in the coolness of night, he wanted to be sweaty and nasty when he attemptd at Nathaniel. His cock was jiggly and fatty, and it roped limply over Nathaniel’s face.
“How much do you think you can swallow, Private Fuckup?”
“Uh… sir?”
“Point on my dick. How deep do you think you can take it?”
“I, uh… I dunno, sir.”
“Well, think about it, idiot. Make a fucking prediction,” Sergeant Powers said. He slapped Nathaniel’s face with his cock, and a fresh burst of sweaty smell assaulted Nathaniel’s senses.
That is definitely not erect, that’s how big it is soft, Nathaniel thought and wanted to cry. It wasn’t totally limp either, but it slapped over his face like an uncooked sausage. There is no way anyone takes that whole cock in their throat or their ass, he told himself over and over. Impossible. It left behind a layer of grease and cock-scent on his face, which made him gag.
Blushing at the sound of his fellow squadmates laughing until Sergeant Powers shot them a harsh glare, Nathaniel pointed to a random spot, about a third of the way down the shaft. “There. Sir. I uh… I can swallow to there.”
“There, huh? That ain’t bad,” Sergeant Powers said. He let out an exaggerated moan as he guided Nathaniel’s pointing finger into a circle, which he then wrapped around his cock. Nathaniel gagged again at that fleshy feel.
Nathaniel’s hand remained still, and Sergeant Powers bucked his hips back and forth, giving himself a handjob with Nathaniel’s grip. He took off his shirt to reveal his powerful chest and faded tattoos. He was so tall that crouched-down Nathaniel’s head was beneath his crotch, and Sergeant Powers had to bend his knees to massage Nathaniel’s cheeks.
“Ah damn, sorry Nathaniel…”
He pried Nathaniel’s jaws apart. Nathaniel didn’t mean to resist, he just couldn’t help himself. His chin trembled A few tears trickled down his cheek. He wouldn’t have snuck out if he knew this would be the punishment. It wasn’t fair, he thought.
His mind stopped worrying moments later because potent saltiness invaded his senses, so strong he gagged and his eyes watered. It was just the tip of Sergeant Powers’s cock, and it was salty because he was sweaty from his night-time jog around the base.
“There he goes!”
“Oh shit, I ain’t think he’d really do it.”
Sergeant Powers sighed as he bucked his hips, pushing his dick in deeper. Nathaniel couldn’t stop gagging, even though he was aware it just made this feel even better for Sergeant Powers, whose dick perked up in his mouth.
People had been making “don’t go to prison” jokes since he was young on account of Nathaniel’s big mouth. He never gave it much thought until today. Most men wouldn’t have been able to do anything more than tease the tip of Sergeant Powers’s throbbing cock. But Nathaniel got the entire head in his mouth, and that firm shaft invaded his throat.
The smell was so intense Nathaniel wanted to vomit. He probably would have thrown up if his throat wasn’t plugged up by a rod of military meat leaking precum down his gullet.
“I ain’t never said at ease, boys!” Sergeant Powers bellowed. A few soldiers had crept out of line to watch, and a few others covered their eyes like they couldn’t bear to see it. They all jumped back in position, arms pointed downward at their side. “You too, Private Fuckup,” Sergeant Powers said. “On your knees but at attention. Keep your hands down.”
His hands had been flailing uselessly — Nathaniel wanted to push Sergeant Powers away, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t want to touch any part of Powers’s muscles. He had to force his hands to his side. He straightened his back, trying not to gag with every thrust of Sergeant Powers’s cock into his throat.
He was surprised at how physically easy it was — Nathaniel had thought swallowing cock required effort and concentration. But all he actually had to do was not fight back. That wasn’t easy for him mentally, but when he managed to loosen his throat, Powers’s dick slid most of the way down it. His balls swayed against Nathaniel’s chin.
It was, however, difficult for Nathaniel to accept without panic. It felt like he was being torn up from the inside out. He wanted to vomit but couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe or speak or cough or do anything but taste the sweat and precum trickling into his mouth. He was dizzy from lack of oxygen.
“You doin’ better than you predicted,” Sergeant Powers said. “But I don’t accept nothin’ less than perfect.” He wrapped his fingers over Nathaniel’s scalp and held his head in place.
Nathaniel cried out for air as he choked. He couldn’t help himself from sobbing as he sputtered on the cock invading his throat. Sergeant Powers used his other hand to pinch Nathaniel’s nostrils shut, which opened his throat wide enough that every inch of Sergeant Powers’s cock fit down there. His balls swung and thwacked against Nathaniel’s chin.
“Listen to that sound. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. “
“I know, yeah, Nathaniel swallows dick like a fuckin’ champion. I ain’t know he was talented like that.”
“He got that big mouth…”
“Now stand up and bend over,” Sergeant Powers said. He grimaced like he didn’t want to do this, while the other soldiers snickered nervously.
He pulled out and Nathaniel was overcome by dizziness. He toppled over as he tried to stand. Great gobs of saliva and stomach bile spilled out of Nathaniel’s throat. The only reason he didn’t vomit was that he hadn’t eaten since early the previous evening — he would have been hungry except that he was nauseous and full of precum — so Nathaniel dry-heaved as he tried to stand. Then Sergeant Powers grabbed him by the shoulders and bent him over the bed. Nathaniel retched and fell limp onto his own bunk.
“Stick your ass up,” he barked.
Nathaniel moaned as he did so. His asshole twinkled in anticipation. His mind raced, unable to consider what was about to happen because he still heaved for breath.
“Beg me for it, Private Fuckup.”
“Sir, please… No…”
“What was that?!”
“I mean… yes. Please, uh…”
“Cornhole me. Say it.”
“Cornhole me. Please cornhole me, Sergeant…” Nathaniel’s entire body cringed. He hated showing obedience to anyone, and he especially hated himself for begging to be fucked. Being held down and cornholed was one thing, but Nathaniel was literally begging for it. He would never be able to admit that this happened, he thought, he’d be forever in denial about it — could he even continue working alongside all these witnesses? He felt like he might not be able to. If they teased him about it, he’d hit them. What if he got sent to military prison? They had a hundred Sergeant Sodomys there, he thought, sobbing into his bunk.
Then pain exploded in his ass. Nathaniel screamed and hyperventilated. He stuck his head up high in the air, tears streaming down his cheek. His face was bright red, and his entire body clenched.
Sergeant Powers took his boxers and filled Nathaniel’s mouth with them. He held onto the edges and used them like a bridle, guiding Nathaniel as he tried to crawl away.
“Please, sir…”
“More? You want more? Is that what you’re asking, Private Fuckup? Speak up!” He ground his hips to squeeze more of his cock into Nathaniel’s tight ass. “Maybe I should call you Private Loose-Asshole. How’s that sound?”
“Sir, whatever you want, sir,” Nathaniel said through gritted teeth, the words barely decipherable through the boxers in his mouth. There must have been pubic hairs clinging to the fabric, Nathaniel thought, because he could feel them tickling his throat.
The radio attached to Sergeant Powers’s clothes flickered into life. Powers, you out on your run? It was so loud that it made Nathaniel jump and his asshole loosen a bit, so another inch or so of cockmeat slid into him. Nathaniel wondered how much was left to take, but he was too scared to turn around and check.
Powers slapped one of Nathaniel’s cheeks. He had to stretch to reach the radio on his shorts and his shirt, and when he moved, his cock twitched inside Nathaniel. Whatever it touched must have been sensitive, because Nathaniel felt like he was being torn in two. He screamed until Powers pushed his face into the mattress of his bunk, muffling the sound.
“Yes,” Sergeant Powers said into the radio.
Uh, okay, did you see that note from the duty sergeant last night? About that, uh… Muckham?
“Yes,” Sergeant Powers said with a smile. “I saw that note. I’m taking care of it right now.”
There was a nervous chuckle on the other side of the radio. Oh, so right now, you’re… doling out one of your special punishments?
“That’s right.”
Okay. Just so you know, it’s okay to not answer your radio sometimes. I don’t need to hear this.
“Uh, it’s standard procedure, Paul. What if the Canadians chose today to attack? It would be just like them. Wait a minute, Paul, this is the sound of Inch Thirteen.”
From his vantage point, Nathaniel couldn’t see what Sergeant Powers did. But from everyone’s laughter, he gathered that Powers had placed the radio transmitter near Nathaniel’s ass, pressed the button and then pushed the last inch of his cock into Nathaniel’s tearing ass. There was a moist squishing sound, and Nathaniel moaned in agony.
“That’s what a nice big punishment sounds like.”
Sounds delightful, Powers. Remind me to forbid my wife from ever meeting you. Base out.
Sergeant Powers laughed and threw the radio, and his dirty clothes, onto Nathaniel’s pillow. He grabbed Nathaniel’s chin with one hand and placed his other on the small of Nathaniel’s back. “Okay, Private Fuckup, here we go. I’m all the way in. Can you believe that? Most women can’t take all thirteen inches in their pussy, much less their ass. But then most women aren’t shitheaps like you. Anyway, I’m gonna start really plowing now. This is the part that’s gonna hurt the worst. You ready?”
Blinking back tears, Nathaniel nodded. He thought he was supposed to say yes out loud too, but Sergeant Powers didn’t seem to care. He just started pounding.
His dignity disappeared as Nathaniel screamed. Sergeant Powers forced his head up so everyone could see Nathaniel’s tense, weeping face, while keeping his ass low and submissive. He brought all thirteen inches out, leaving just the tip in, then slammed the entire shaft back in.
He groaned with each thrust of his hips, while Nathaniel couldn’t stop screaming. He finally fell silent only when Sergeant Powers laid atop Nathaniel’s back, grinding his dick within Nathaniel’s ass and cackling into Nathaniel’s ear as he squirmed from the pain.
He had no idea how long that lasted. It felt like forever, Nathaniel thought, and he wondered if his asshole was ruined — it felt like it would never be tight again. He tried to crawl away but Sergeant Powers’s hairy, sweat-slickened muscles weighed him down. Nathaniel could feel every ounce of machismo writhing, flexing above his back, breathing heavy into his ear. He cried, not that anyone could hear him over the sound of Sergeant Powers’s frenzied snorts as he rutted inside Nathaniel’s guts.
Nathaniel was so numb in the ass that he didn’t feel Sergeant Powers’s orgasm began. He just realized it was happening when there was a powerful warming sensation inside him, and Sergeant Powers’s muscles all twitched at once.
He sighed as Nathaniel filled up with his seed. Utter humiliation flowed through Nathaniel’s veins. He cringed and tried to bury his face, but Sergeant Powers forced him to remain upright, looking at his squadmates.
It felt like piss, Nathaniel thought. He could feel Sergeant Powers’s dick softening and pulsating as the cum flowed through it, and he shot such a huge load that it kept going, not in wads but in a constant stream.
More and more cum filled him, so much that Nathaniel imagined he could taste it. His skin felt sticky as though he was covered in it from head to toe. It didn’t hurt any less, even when it was done and Powers’s massive cock gradually limpened.
“I’m waiting for you, private.”
“Uh… Wh-Wh-” Nathaniel didn’t know what he was expected to do. All he could think about was the wrenching pain in his ass. Was he bleeding? He couldn’t tell, but it wouldn’t surprise him. He was in too much agony to turn his head and look, and besides that, he didn’t want to see.
“I’ll remove my cock when you ask me to.”
“Please… uh, take, uh… take your… Uh… Take your cock…” Nathaniel twisted and gasped. His face was bright red, eyes alternating between open wide and squeezed shut. He clawed at the sheets beneath him.
“Say it properly, Private Fuckup. Say it in a complete sentence, like a soldier.”
Nathaniel tried to take a deep breath but that caused an outpouring of pain in his ass. He ground his face into the bunk, then grunted and tried to speak. “Uh… Sir! Please… Please remove… your cock… from my ass.”
“Don’t cuss, Private Fuckup.”
“Sir… Please, uh, remove your penis from… my… anus,” Nathaniel said. That made some of the other soldiers laugh quietly, still standing at attention at the foot of their bunks.
“What have you learned from this experience, Private Fuckup?”
“To, uh, not sneak out! I’ll always follow the rules, I swear,” Nathaniel said. He had never been so humiliated. Back in high school, Nathaniel was a rebel and a punk. He would have killed himself rather than beg for a chance to be obedient. But now he couldn’t think about anything but the splitting pain in his asshole.
Sergeant Powers stood. “Atten-tion!” Nathaniel sighed as he felt that cock slide out of him, like he was taking a massive dump. It tingled, hurt and felt good all at once. His asshole was cold as it gaped, exposed to the air.
“I said ‘At Attention’, Private Fuckup!”
The agony was excruciating as Nathaniel forced himself to stand at attention. He felt cum trickling down his legs. His cock had never seemed smaller. His asscheeks were numb but his asshole screamed with agony.
“Private Fuckup, are you satisfied with the rules of this base?”
“Sir, yes, sir. I’ll never sneak off again.” Nathaniel sniffled and held back tears. He struggled to remain upright and at-attention at the foot of his bed.
Sergeant Powers smiled. He flopped his massive, grimy cock between his fingers. Fluids dripped from it and clung to his trunk-like thighs. “I really hope that ain’t true, boy. Cuz you got a nice ass. I’ll be watchin’ you for another reason to wreck it.”

A man rises hisself to the situation at hand.

The one soldier who couldn’t quite live up to expectations was Samovich, who was skinny as a toothpick and sloppy as a bear. He couldn’t never do enough push-ups or clean his rifle proper-like or keep his bunk in good order. Whole dang unit got in a bad row of stumps again and again for that sumbitch.

The one soldier who couldn’t quite live up to expectations was Samovich, who was skinny as a toothpick and sloppy as a bear. He couldn’t never do enough push-ups or clean his rifle proper-like or keep his bunk in good order. Whole dang unit got in a bad row of stumps again and again for that sumbitch.
Ain’t nobody wanna punish him. They hoped Samovich to improve, but Samovich cried for his mama and he tried a-sneaking like a clumsy ninja, even cheating on an obstacle course, stogging around the obstacles out in the woods where Drill Sergeant Tucker couldn’t see.
That was some low-manhood, high-sissy behavior, so far as Goose was concerned. And per his buddy Harley, who Goose ain’t barely know yet, but they later ran together cuz they shipped out together.
Once Tucker found out about the obstacle course, he shit his lid, and Samovich returned to the barrack with a heavy head, a black eye and a limp, and word soon got back that they wasn’t getting leave this weekend cuzza him.
Whole dang unit got no leave cuz Samovich couldn’t handle his shit.
That pissed ’em all off. It was Harley who badmouthed Samovich so bad them’all took a turn gutpunching him.
By then he was bawling in the corner of the barrack like a rank pussy, god did that weakling shit piss Goose off. It wasn’t even just that Samovich was a pussy — god knows the world’s fulla ’em! — but he was getting the whole barrack in trouble, and Samovich was going off to war! What’d he think this was? Prep for a trip to a circus? He gonna hafta toughen up or the Vietnameys gonna send him dirtwards. A man rises hisself to the situation at hand.

From The White Trash Veteran

The White Trash Veteran: Chapter11

The White Trash Veteran

Goose learned meditation at a lumber camp near Yakima, where he was the only white feller. The other workers was all Cambodian, fresh off the boat. They taught him to cook on a wok and to experience samatha and sati, two words he was only beginning to acquaint hisself with, though he been searching for ’em since he left America fifteen years ago. Goose taught them too, how to make cornbread, dodge a skunk, play the banjo.
The Cambodians worked him hard. His shoulders got to aching, knees creaky as a scary movie, and for the first time in his life, he felt physically old. He’d felt mentally old before, but now, approaching forty, he felt his limbs a-clacking and his joints a-popping. The Cambodians taught him to savor that, to use it to live in the moment, to savor the joy of being the kind of conscious animal that rises above its suffering.
Living with males was good, and living with Buddhists was salvatious. Goose meditated like a stone. No mind, no past, no dam. He polished ten perfections, but Goose did got a boy he needta return to. A man do sacrifice everything, even enlightenment, for his kin.
Buck was fifteen now. His teacher was a nice old lady with two sigogglin’ heavy-hangers drooping low like a paira sleepy grapefruits. She set up Buck with special lessons after school, and Buck was eager to do ’em too. But his grades stayed basementy. Buck don’t put in the effort, that’s the problem.
Smarts is overrated anyway. The most unhappy people Goose ever met was smart as laundry. Dumbdumbism may mean you won’t invent some new kinda computer or something, but it ain’t a barrier to happiness.
The Buddhists say that consciousness is the awareness that life is imperfect. Like, take the skunk. It may be dumb, but it accepts that it sees the world as a skunk do, fulla skunky thangs and not-skunky thangs, thangs that could be predators, thangs that could be prey, and e’erythang it sees aligns with its perceptions. It could see a alien spaceship, wouldn’t pluss a skunk, cuz it just put all big loud things in the same category. To a skunk, the world is perfect. E’rythang is in its place, cuz a skunk only knows a couple places. But a human’s conscious soul sees the multitudes and all the thangs that don’t fit into ar’y one of ’em. Like a battle without a war, a fight you both won and lost, a past that circles the present like a vulture and pecks at the future. A skunk don’t ponder. A skunk do swim with the current in the river of it all, while Goose be building a flotsam raft outta hillbilly jetsam to fight through flawed rapids to the wise, wise ocean. Things happen in they own way, as is they wont, and it is our way to never reason why, only to do or do die. A skunk don’t never try to reason why. Idiot blunders is a monster on the left, and overthinking intellects is a monster on the right, while wisdom is a middle route on the righteous and narrow.
When Goose was in boot camp, he had his difficulties with the academic side of Army life. Goose’s drill sergeant acted like his donkey-skull was a deliberate decision, not a failure of competence.
“You a retard, boy?!” shouted Drill Sergeant Tucker when Goose flunked some dumb-ass test about tactics and equipment and jargon, not the true suchness of the world.
“Suh, no, suh!” Goose said. He stood at attention in Tucker’s office.
“Why ain’t you got the answers then? I taught you all this shit.”
“Suh-!”
“Only reason to not know ’em is if you was a retard or you chose to forget ’em, which is it?”
“Suh… I was confused ’bout the questions, some of ’em — and the time limit was tough, I ran outta time-“
“All I hear is excuses! You is finally right about one thing, Sampson! You done ran outta time!” Sergeant Tucker said. His face was cranberrying up hard, his wrinkles smudging, jowls jowling. He got asraddhya coming outta his old-man pores. He jabbed a finger at Goose. “Was you tryin’ to fail?”
“No suh!” Goose said.
“Hopin’ to get outta the Army by bein’ dumb?”
“No suh!”
“Boy, what?!”
“No suh!”
“Do I gotsta beat some smarts into ya dumb skull!” Tucker barked, and he was already throwing a punch before he finished his threat. His fist collided with the meaty thickness of Goose’s belly. Goose be oomphing like a tuba, but he stonefaced. This too would pass, as all things demonstrate the impermanence of anicca.
Goose was shirtless, so his torso turned red as Sergeant Tucker punched him again and again. Goose thunk he was sposedta not show his pain, but when he couldn’t anymore, he doubled over, gasping for air, his torso turning yellow and purple. Ten fetters anchored him, cuz he thought he shouldn’t be feeling pain. How wrong he was!
“Well? Sampson!? Whatchoo got to say for ya candy-ass self?” Drill Sergeant Tucker said when he stopped stopped hitting him. Tucker dunno that there is no self, that atman is an illusion, and so’s candy and asses for that matter.
He stood and waited for Goose to catch his breath. Finally, Goose choked out a few words. “Suh… I… suh…” He wanna say he got no pramada, but this was before Goose thunk about enlightenment, he ain’t yet hold no Choo Dye Bee in his grubby mitts. All he could do was bristle and rare, his lungs clawing for wind.
“Uh-huh. Sampson, I am gonna drill this shit into you one way or another. I will put the facts into ya brain by hand if I gotto. Nobody gets outta the Army on a brainpower issue, not on my watch.”
“Suh, I wasn’t…” Goose took a deep, painful breath. “I wasn’t tryin’ to fail, suh. I reads slow, tha’ss all. Suh, I was a-studyin’-“
“Don’t gimme that, I’m gonna make you hurt til learning seems easier than flunking. You gonna learn every last word, Sampson,” Tucker said. He held up the study guide everybody done get givened. He tossed it at Goose. “Hold it close to ya heart. I’ll drill it in that way.”
“Suh, yes, suh,” Goose said. He clutched the study guide to his chest, unaware that this moment, like all moments, was the bija, or seed, of everything that came later. That’s another of time’s blips that can only be reckonized downstream. “I’ll read it again-“
“I know you will.” Sergeant Tucker got behind Goose. “Memorize it, Sampson. No leave, no free time, till you memorize every word.” He reached round Goose and undid the belt holding up Goose’s camo trousers, which toppled to his ankles. “Stay at attention. Hold the study guide.” Then before Goose knewed it, his green drawers was ripped down, and Goose’s foot-long cock dangled.
Goose sucked in his breath. Sergeant Tucker remained behind him, so he had to look round Goose to see it. He clucked his tongue like he don’t approve of big dingdongs. He grabbed Goose’s cock from behind and slapped it left and right. It jiggled like gelatin, and his heavy body pressed into Goose’s back.
“Thought so. Thick-ass dumb fuck!” Sergeant Tucker said from behind Goose, who could hear the tanha in his voice, but also cetana. Sergeant Tucker got great cetana. That’s how a military officer is, sacrificing his volition for craving. Karma is a curse to war, but soldiers are a society’s upaya. “A smart man’s smarts is in his brain. A dumb motherfucker’s dumbs is in his dick. And ya dick is overflowin’ with dumb, Sampson.”
“Yes, suh.”
His arms wrapped round Goose’s torso, Tucker rammed his dick into Goose’s ass. It glanced off his intact hole. Tucker rammed again, hard, hard enough to hurt even though it didn’t go in. Goose ain’t show no pain.
“You gonna fight me, Sampson? Spread ’em, private. Make a hole and make it wide,” he said. That was what he always said when the squad was jogging and he came up in the middle of ’em.
Goose did spread his legs, but he ain’t open his ass. He got his pride. He couldn’t tell a officer no without getting court-martialed, but no rule says he gotsta make it easy for him. He stayed up straight and all, legs spread.
That did open his bootyhole up enough for Tucker’s dick tip to tease in, just the tip. That was all. Goose thought maybe he’d be satisfied with that. It was technically penetration. It did go in. He could hold his head high and so could Goose.
But then Tucker surprised him by reaching around and grabbing his ballsac. He squeezed it with one hand. A jolt of electric agony shot up Goose’s spine.
And when the pain vanished, cuz Tucker leggo, Goose’s ass momentarily unclenched. Sergeant Tucker was waiting for that.
His rock-hard cock forced its way into Goose’s butthole, heaps of dickmeat ramming right in. Goose couldn’t help but scream, as pain exploded up his spine. He cut it short when Tucker barked incomprehensibly behind him.
“Sssssuh…?!” Goose’s voice trembled. A howl came outta Goose’s mouth, but he choked it back, and he stayed upright. Tucker’s hands gripped Goose’s chest to hold him in place at attention.
“Don’chu dare fight me, son!”
“Suh, yes, suh!” Goose struggled to speak with the pain exploding in his ass.
One of Tucker’s callused hands wrapped round Goose’s cock and squeezed it. “Does ya dick work?” Tucker’s dick ain’t move yet, it just rammed in and stayed still. Goose’s whole body trembled and shook.
“Suh, yes, suh!”
“Then get hard, Sampson!” Sergeant Tucker said. He was mad stroking Goose’s cock, his own dick planted deep in Goose’s ass like a poplar. It throbbed hotly, and Goose sensed it felt good to Sergeant Tucker, who ain’t show no response to the sensation. He focused on stroking Goose’s dick into firmity. Tucker chuckled. “Is this thang why they call you Goose?”
“Suh, yes, suh.”
“Best get hard, son, I ain’t gonna finish in ya ass till you blow a nut. Maybe you’ll shoot some of the dumb outta that pecker,” Tucker said. His breathing growed jagged though, and his words was clipped like he was holding back a moan of desire. He be dimpling his hips too, as if he was resisting the instinct to ram back and forth.
Somehow Goose did get hard. He was in too much pain to think about it. Maybe it was the tension of the situation, but before he knewed it, his dick was firm and throbbing in Tucker’s hand. It both hurt and felt good, the pain and the pleasure erupting from oppposite ends. He writhed and gasped in Tucker’s strong arms.
Precum dribbled out and coated Sergeant Tucker’s hand, then both hands when he started using ’em both on Goose’s shaft. Every couple seconds, he again gave Goose’s balls a light squeeze.
“Ow, shit-“
“Hush ya mouth, son,” Sergeant Tucker said. His breath condensed like steam on Goose’s ear. He was daggering slightly now, unable to resist moving his sensitive cock, which only strengthened the agony in Goose’s ass. The pleasure in Goose cock growed stronger though, with every stroke of Sergeant Tucker’s hands.
Pain still exploding in his rear, Goose shot a massive load onto the floor. The first arrow was the agony of the moment, but that is fleeting like a leaf in a river. The second arrow was the stress and fear that come with pain, and it was that Goose needed to avoid. Course, that hillbilly ain’t learn that lesson at this time, he was just a dumbass grunt with a big dick, shooting ropes upon ropes of creamy jizz onto the ground. Tucker stroked the entire time, not missing a beat. His painfully callused hand felt much better on Goose’s sensitive shaft after it was coated in sticky jizz. Sergeant Tucker groaned as he teased out Goose’s cum.
Only then did Tucker begin moving his dick back and forth, the final few wads of nut was still on the dribble outta Goose’s pecker. The motion reawakened the pain in Goose’s ass.
Goose sucked in his breath and clamped his mouth shut, breathing through clenched teeth as little sparks of pleasure kept erupting outta his dick. Behind him, he heared Sergeant Tucker’s broad chest muscles ripple, and he sensed how good Goose’s intact booty felt to him.
With a chest-thumping old-man roar, Sergeant Tucker held Goose close and pounded hard at his ass. Goose struggled to stay upright cuzza the pain and the lingering sensitivity in his dickshaft — which Tucker never leggo of, he kept stroking it even limp as twine — as he moaned directly at him, so loud it made Goose’s whole body shake. Or maybe that was the pain from Sergeant Tucker’s cock rocking his innards. Cum sprayed into Goose’s ass. A fat hot burst of it exploded in Goose’s guts, and his knees went weak.
“Stay strong, soldier! At attention!”
Goose worked out staying upright — both experiencing and wishing for khanti — and he resumed his at-attention stance while Tucker pounded away at his ass. Cum poured down his legs as fast as Tucker could shoot it into his booty. It was hot like lava and goopy like slime, sticking to his innards and to his thighs where it dripped down his legs.
“Get this place mopped up, son,” Tucker said, still finishing his nut off in Goose’s muscled ass. He swallowed up a moan by gently biting Goose’s nape. Goose stayed at attention. Tucker’s cock growed soft, but he ain’t take it out. “And I’ll give you one more try at passin’ that test.”
“Thank you-” Goose’s voice wavered from the pain. “Suh, thank you, suh.”

The White Trash Veteran: Chapter 3

The White Trash Veteran

Goose holed up in Smashwood with Buck and Ellen for mosta the winter, and they lived like family. Goose was at his home, but he ain’t came home. He remained an outlander, like he missed all the inside jokes while he was gone but nobody would explain ’em to him or even repeat ’em with him in the room.
The money ran out by spring, and Goose got turned on to a job on over at a lumber camp in Pennsylvania. He worked there the whole of the summer of 1977. He got to heading back to West Virginia in the fall cuz he received some grim news.
Ellen died. Li’l Buck was an orphan. Or half an orphan at least.
The whole park stayed with sadness, locked in mourning. Goose hung his head proper-like as he workbooted in. Lotta folks came up to him and expressed they sorries and commiseries, and Goose accepted ’em polite as a pony. She got a bad dose of heroin, that was what Goose heared tell of.
Sly as snakes, oodlins of eyeballs judged him. He wished he weared a black shirt at least. But he done return to Smashwood in his wrinkledy workshirt like any other day, flecks of paint and sawdust clinging to the denim. For sure all the parkbodies thunk he shoulda been here, strong enough to control his household like a man, he shoulda been watching over Ellen, providing for her so she don’t gotta sling her cat for horse.
But ain’t nobody say a word about that. Goose heared ’em not say it in his twinging bones.
Lotta folks said Buck be running round like a stray dog, that Ellen weren’t watching him, weren’t keeping him proper. He went and asked folks for food, cuz mama was sleepy-deeping.
Ain’t nobody told Goose on the phone that that was happening. Only now that Ellen was dead. Again, nobody said it was Goose’s fault, which was how that Goose knewed they was all thinking it.
But there weren’t no work round here for a man like Goose, so he had no choice but to go away. He wanna blame Ellen for spending dollars on drugs steada feeding the boy, but a real man don’t blame a woman. A proper man shoulda been here, shoulda found a way. That’s how the cow ate the cabbage. T’is a woman’s nature to dream and dally. T’is on the nearest man to handle reality. That weren’t a duty Goose was living up to at the moment.
The war been tarrying in Goose’s shadow, jumping into light when the moment fit the frame. He been losing his temper at that lumber camp, got a ramstudious reputation, causing ructions over both nothing and everything, and he afreared what might happen when Buck was around. This feller he knewed from the Army, Thad Hoover, he got back to home in Michigan and plum killt his wife and daughters, then hisself. No reason. Just happened. Goose felt a random wheel in him, and he duked up at the dawn, early so nobody would see him boxing walls till his fists grew gnarled and knucklesome; he drownded his outerwards to slay his innermostlies, and it worked. The war be bubbling up, splattering its indignities onto him when he let his guard down, when his brain sputtered and his heart hanged. If he was home with Buck and Ellen, all kinda things might could have done happen. He be spotting ambushes in every corner, and in the lumber camp there was men — mostly veterans theyselfs — who could smack sense into him. Ellen and Buck couldn’t do that. Well, Buck couldn’t, and Ellen really couldn’t.
And yet his brain steady came back to Ellen’s death, telling him he shoulda been here. He did heroin in Vietnam, and he quit before coming over on back to America. He coulda, shoulda and woulda made Ellen do the same. A man should be the master of his home or leastways his own self.
A road is unlike a river in that a driver must know which way to go. A river unlike a road carves out a path that is never wrong. Goose accepted the truth of that but not the reality of it.
It almost felt bad to enjoy visiting with Buck. Soon as he seen the tyke, Goose wrapped him up in his arms. Buck be sobby-lobbing in the trailer of Miss Junebug, that’s who took him on in when Ellen came up dead.
“Is you gonna stay, Pops?” Buck asked when he stopped crying for a spell.
Goose wanna tell him, ‘Can’t stay cuz I got war in my bones, and I don’t wanna bring it to you, Buck. Parta me died in Vietnam, but I gotsta figger out which part’. All Goose said was, “I gonna hafta go out fer work, son. J’st the way t’is.”
Li’l Buck scuffed his feetses. “Oh.” He picked up what Goose was putting down, or he would one day, when his generation found a war or made one.
“You gotsta be tough, Buck. Stay strong. A man lives in the here and now, takin’ on burdens that ain’t fair, beatin’ back the night by buildin’ up the day. You let ya mama stay in ya heart, where’n e’erythang’s perfect,” Goose said.
Buck nodded like a warrior, and he swallowed down his tears as he shared his peanut butter crackers with Goose. They ate ’em together and drank milk and talked about Ellen’s hugs. Goose hugged Buck the bestmost he could, and he felt in them twinging bones that that was enough for Buck.
After that, Miss Junebug went on about the necessities — of foster families and custodianship, that kinda thing. She said Buck was a hellion, he don’t sit still and he do play rough with the other boys, he do! He don’t got control of hisself.
Goose couldn’t hardly complain about that. Goose had long troubles with rules. Goose couldn’t abide by a rule that weren’t enforced, and it don’t feel real till it was enforced against him. That ain’t a trait that agrees with a military life. The army discottoned to fellers who buck rules.
“You hoopie sumbitch think you can get away with not shaving!” his drill sergeant barked at him the day after check-in. Goose done got his head shaved, but the barber ain’t say he gots to shave off the mustache too.
“Suh, no suh!” Goose snapped down. He be solid at attention. The drill sergeant glared close as though daring him to square up. Goose ain’t take the bait. They got so close Goose could feel the aura of his nose, and Goose’s fat cock bulging through his camo pants felt of drill sergeant’s crotch too. “Suh! I ain’t know — I ain’t — nobody said-“
“Waah-waah-waah, I don’t wanna hear it! A soldier finds out the rules, or he suffers for breakin’ ’em, Sampson! Now get down and gimme fifty push-ups! And if you don’t do every one perfectly, ya whole damn barrack is doin’ ’em!”
No doubt drill sergeant thunk Goose wouldn’t do ’em right and the whole barrack would hafta do fifty push-ups. They’d put it off on Goose. But he did do ’em right, cuz he got arms like tractors, and drill sergeant couldn’t say boo about it. He did make the whole barrack do fifty push-ups a few minutes later, but nobody could blame Goose for it.
Drill Sergeant Tucker was like that — he steady punished the whole unit if’n one feller messed up. That forced ’em to hold each other accountable.
The one soldier who couldn’t quite live up to expectations was Samovich, who was skinny as a toothpick and sloppy as a bear. He couldn’t never do enough push-ups or clean his rifle proper-like or keep his bunk in good order. Whole dang unit got in a bad row of stumps again and again for that sumbitch.
Ain’t nobody wanna punish him. They hoped Samovich to improve, but Samovich cried for his mama and he tried a-sneaking like a clumsy ninja, even cheating on an obstacle course, stogging around the obstacles out in the woods where Drill Sergeant Tucker couldn’t see.
That was some low-manhood, high-sissy behavior, so far as Goose was concerned. And per his buddy Harley, who Goose ain’t barely know yet, but they later ran together cuz they shipped out together.
Once Tucker found out about the obstacle course, he shit his lid, and Samovich returned to the barrack with a heavy head, a black eye and a limp, and word soon got back that they wasn’t getting leave this weekend cuzza him.
Whole dang unit got no leave cuz Samovich couldn’t handle his shit.
That pissed ’em all off. It was Harley who badmouthed Samovich so bad them’all took a turn gutpunching him.
By then he was bawling in the corner of the barrack like a rank pussy, god did that weakling shit piss Goose off. It wasn’t even just that Samovich was a pussy — god knows the world’s fulla ’em! — but he was getting the whole barrack in trouble, and Samovich was going off to war! What’d he think this was? Prep for a trip to a circus? He gonna hafta toughen up or the Vietnameys gonna send him dirtwards. A man rises hisself to the situation at hand.
“Hey, watch this,” Harley said. The whole squad done talk trash like them’all was gonna beat him to bumpkins, but they only gave Samovich a lavish of gutpunches. That got the frustration outta the cadets, but they stayed mad. Beating him up was likeish to get them all in trouble. He already done got the breath knocked outta him, and he hurt so bad in the belly he dry-heaved up a mouthful of spit.
A sense of brotherhood done rise among ’em then, a unity of purpose. It felt right. Even Samovich prolly felt it. They moved as one, they acted as one, without thinking. That was a sensation only reckonizable in retrospect. A feller can never step in the same river twice.
Harley was the ringleader, the one daffy-laughing the loudest. “Watch, watch, watch, I’mma mollywop that skinny sumbitch.”
Harley took out his dick and slapped Samovich over the face with it. Harley got a fat pecker, but it weren’t too long, so he gotsta sorta jut his crotch forward, which let him dick-whack Samovich good and hard, solid enough to make a thwap-slap sound.
“Oh shit-“
“Harley dickslappin’ that sissy!”
That made ’em all guffaw, especially when Samovich looked like ain’t nothing happen, like he was stonefacing all of a sudden, despite the tears rolling down his cheeks. Goddamn was he a wussy! Like a woman, he was pretending, couldn’t accept the reality afronta him.
“Get ‘im-“
“-ruined mah damn leave!”
“I wuz gonna get wit’ this chick, maaaaan-“
Before Goose knewed it, bunchesa fellers got they dicks out, jobbing Samovich on the cheeks and chin and forehead. Samovich was looking like a red-faced statue, sniffling back his tears and his cries for mama. The wangs was all limp as hot green beans though. Samovich did wince when Hernandez got his pecker on his upper lip — he musta tasted it — and he held back a bawl.
T’was Goose’s giant cock that made Samovich cry out again. They all done shower with him, so it weren’t no surprise, but maybe them’all ain’t notice or ain’t reckon how big it was up close, till they saw Goose smack Samovich over the face with it. His fatness rested on Samovich’s light hawkbrown face, almost as wide as his face and longer than it for sure.
“Aww, sheeit, that’s a big one, you honky sumbitch!” said one the black fellers, Crowley, who got a fat dick too. He thwacked his thickness onto Goose’s meat and chuckled, as they shafts bounced and jiggled softly over each other.
Goose got no idear who first started ramming at Samovich’s mouth. He was laughing and swordfighting with Crowley, as they all jabbered about the whores they woulda fucked on leave if that pissant Samovich ain’t mess it up. On they first leave last month, most all the barrack ‘cept for Samovich all joined in for a whorish harridan who gave ’em each blowjobs, one after the other. She weren’t much to look at, but she drew a nut out in about two minutes each. Mouth like snappin’ velvet.
When Goose turned back around, Harley was shooting his nut onto Samovich’s mug.
“Oooooh, sheeit!”
“Ewww-!”
“Harley’s nuttin’! Harley’s nuttin’!”
“That honky shoot cream!” Crowley yelped and ran in a little circle in the barrack, guffawing like a barrel. “That honky shootin’ cream!” he said as though there was a chance something else mighta come outta Harley’s erection.
That made them all laugh the dickens! Samovich sat there, teary-eyed and wussy, practically begging a Vietnamey sniper to take him out. Jizz roped over his face from his forehead to his chin.
He did get shot, you know. Goose don’t like to think about it. At the time, when Samovich messed up they leave, Goose and all them all was thinking a rank-ass wussy like him deserved to take a bullet. Somebody got to, and it might as well be someone who couldn’t hack it in basic training.
But that was exactly what happened, Samovich got shot on patrol in Dien Fat Boo, and Goose was sad as a girl when he found out. He ain’t want nobody he knewed to get shot.
And in the end, Samovich did get through basic training. Barely, but that still counts.
Disregardless, at the time, the war seemed too far away to even think about, even though that was all any of them did think about. The war was both too near and too far for studyment.
Harley stepped away, dick swinging between his hands, still dribbling nut onto the floor of the barrack. Harley pumped his biceps like he just conquered a frontier, and everwho did cheer him on. As they did so, Crowley got hard in an instant, you know how black boys is, ain’t even gotta touch his meat, and he held onto Samovich by the ear to plow into his poor little mouth. Harley’s jizz dripped onto Crowley’s pecker.
“C’mon, yo’ mouf is my pussy, Samovich!” Crowley grunted like he was fucking a dislikable whore. He pumped and rammed at Samovich’s mouth, not using his hands so his cock kept slipping out and roping over Samovich’s face, making Samovich gag as both precum and actual cum coated him from bow to stern. “C’mon, pussy-fhroat, gonna wreck yo’ fhroat…” Crowley’s taut muscles rippled.
“Aw, fuck, Crowley, you doin’ it! You doin’ it!” Goose whooped and hollered. He done gone to prison by this point — Goose was old for a basic-training feller. He ain’t mention to nobody that he done shoot his nut in a sissy before. Mosta them’all was just eighteen years old, maybe nineteen in a couple cases. Goose was the old man at twenty-four. Them young’uns acted like they ain’t know a feller could nut in another feller’s mouth — and you just know they never heared tell of butt rangers. Goose acted similar, cuz he ain’t want nobody to guess what he done.
It ended up coming out anyway, but not at that time.
Crowley pounded his cock at Samovich’s throat, and while he did so, some other feller shot a wad onto Samovich’s face. Young’uns is like that, busting a nut in a instant. Whoever that was — Goose don’t remember now — they ain’t even get they dick in Samovich’s mouth. They prolly thwacked it on his face, maybe got some spit on it, definitely got smeared with cream from Harley and maybe Crowley, which was prolly what lubed up they dong. In any case, they was spewing they load onto Crowley’s dick still while Crowley was closing his eyes to fuck Samovich’s throat like a pussy, his heavy balls slapping at Samovich’s chin.
“Aw’ight, aw’ight, here I go,” Crowley closed his eyes and forced his dick down Samovich’s throat. His black shaft pulsated visibly as cum spurted down there. Crowley ain’t let up, not even when Samovich retched up jizz round his eggplanty knob. It plopped onto the ground at his feet.
Then Jerry Whathisname did much the same thing, he only needed a minute, maybe less than one, in Samovich’s mouth, he got a dinky peter, that was why. So did Manny Hernandez, Carl Taggart and that other black boy, the islander —Lucent — who was Trinidadian, skinny like a jaguar — and Yeller, Opie, Lyle, Abe, Nottingham, Goose weren’t sure of the order. He waited till the end.
Goose liked the idea of a well-lubed throat. By the time he swaggered his thirteen-incher in front of Samovich’s face, that sumbitch weren’t even visible. He got prolly thirty-nine cumloads on his face. Well, less, cuz Crowley and some others shot it down his gullet and Lucent missed, got mosta it on his shoulders. Samovich spat up mosta the ackempucky onto his own face, and Hernandez spat on Samovich’s face bunches, he was like that, he did that, made Samovich’s mug ugly, wet and sticky. There was fifty fellers in the barrack, but a couple was gone for various reasons at the time, so maybe thirty-nine loads hit him in various places. Big boy loads too!
Gommy puddles of it coated his face, no bare skin at all there. He was soaked on his ears, his shoulders, his neck. Mosta his crewcut was moist, and Samovich kept smearing it round with his hands, but he ain’t got nothing to wipe it off with — damn was he a sissy! Ain’t nobody holding him down, reckon! He just was too scairt or sad or whatever to move, got a pussy on his soul holding him down. He don’t fight back, he don’t even got smart-ass remarks like a short feller.
“Maaan, come on…” was all he said, leastways all that Goose heared. Then he erupted in more gags, his whole body undulating like a eel.
Samovich weren’t resisting one bit when Goose rammed his meat into that paltry sumbitch’s wide open mouth. He was well broke-in, his throat lubed. Goose got a good four inches in, the others cheering him on, then he held onto Samovich’s face and forced it in more. Samovich stretched his lips around the shaft. Got maybe eight inches in then. Pretty dang good, most fellers can’t get that far in no matter how hard they plowed.
He shot his fat wad onto Samovich’s face — he made sure to pull away, so all them’all could see every drop of it coat Samovich in creamy ropes. His giant balls shot giant loads, and Goose wanna paint Samovich white as cotton. So he aimed his dickmeat for the last few cum-free spots on Samovich’s face.
It felt good, but the main sensation was pride, not pleasure. Goose liked seeing Samovich take his cumload, even if he was jacking his own meat at the time. Samovich kept his mouth open though nobody told him to, he was just that muchuva pussy. He cringed and gagged as his mouth overflowed and spilled.
“Damn, Goose-“
“Whiteboy got mad meat!” Crowley was happy-dapping up and down, his own manhood jiggling like a angry baseball bat.
Still more jizz got Samovich on his back and his nape, as he at last reckoned he could crawl away. He sobbed on all fours, while Goose followed him, laughing so hard he couldn’t even keep ahold on his dick. It fell between his legs and dangled as the last couple drops dribbled onto Samovich’s legs and feet.
Then Goose sighed and pulled away, amid the claps and laughter from the resta the barrack. That felt good as candy, he thunk. Not enough to make up for the lost leave, but still, it felt good to get a nut off.
Even if Samovich was good for nothing else, leastways he could do that.