The MP Bitch

by Coxswain

Big military cop learns the Army way to protect and serv.

The big military MP thought he was endowed, only to be outgunned by a lowly corporal as well as a sergeant he was supposed to investigate. Both were younger than our MP and both taught him a lesson on how to submit to his physically superior peers.

It all started with Kowalski in 1968, a year before I retired from the Army.
 
One of the men in Sergeant First-Class Kowalski's platoon sent an anonymous note to the Military Police (the MPs) that he was a drug user, and as the senior MP detective, I got the order to shadow SFC Kowalski for a while to see if the note was genuine or just the chicken-shit backstabbing of a disgruntled GI.

Since Kowalski transferred in to Fort Garrison just two months earlier, the brass decided that he wouldn't know I was an MP--I did mostly office work in the MP headquarters building, only car patrols at night, and the detective work was always in civilian clothes.

Kowalski, a platoon sergeant in an infantry company, would see through me as a "new recruit just assigned to his unit." I was 38 and too fucking big. The plan was for me to be a trained, professional hand-to-hand combat specialist brought in by Battalion from Fort Bragg to put the edge on his troopers' fighting skills.

That part would work: I already worked as the MP company's physical training NCO--I guess because of my physique and the Korean Karate. I'd always been a "big guy," and as an MP in Korea during the war and in South Korea after the armistice, I became a black belt in a Korean Karate school.
 
I'd always been able to take care of myself, though. As a kid nobody ever picked on me, I was always a linesman in school football, and since I've been an MP, any time we had a confrontation with a soldier caught stealing (or whatever), the perp always backed down when he looked up at me--I'm 6'4".
 
And beside having the big genes, my first hobby, something I've done since childhood, was body-building. After more than 20 years of pumping iron, I weighed 285 pounds with a 57" chest, 34" waist, 22" arms, 28" thighs, and 20" calves (I knew all those stats because I took part in a few body-building competitions).
 
They attached me to Kowalki's platoon for two weeks to give his soldiers a karate class every day for two hours--and the rest of the time I was to watch Kowalski. One thing that bugged me about the assignment: keeping an eye on Kowalski 24/7 meant a great crimp in my social life.

I loved pussy. Not only did I have the big genes, many of my girls cooed at how I had the "big jeans." Since my grade school years, my dick was always wet.

As early as the fifth grade--I was what, 11?--Miss Merston loved "the big kid" in her class so much she kept me after school many times. "Ooh, look at that big thing, Tommy!" By the time summer rolled around, that bitch gargled my jism as she went home at least 50 times. After her came the sixth grade and Miss Thompson. She actually had to drop out of school because I got her pregnant--and I was only 12.

By junior high the teachers were forewarned about me, but for many of them, forewarned was foreskinned. I got teacher-sex anytime I wanted it: the librarian in the library, the girl's PE coach in the gym, the drama teacher on the stage--I even scored two male teachers, the boy's PE coach knelt before me in the locker room, and the shop teacher sucked my dick as I leaned back on a workbench, each eager to prove that a man could give a blowjob as good as a woman's.
 
And those were just the teachers.

As the only non-virgin in junior high, my reputation drew the bees to my honey. My second hobby became seeing how many virgins I could de-cherry, and as I graduated into high school, I had a harem of at least a dozen.
 
I hit puberty in high school, and my hormones started churning. By the time I graduated, I'd turned at least 20 girls into women--mostly cheerleaders from our school and a few from opposing teams. I'd secretly fathered five children, gotten three teachers forced to resign "for mental health reasons," and I constantly got into fights with angry big brothers or fathers pissed off that their girls had come home crying that they weren't "the only one for me."
 
I always won, a good fighter even in those days, and most of my split-tail conquests kept quiet in the hope that I would marry them--or at least fuck them again.
 


In 1948 the Army drafted me, and I became an MP. I ended up liking the Army because I liked duty as a cop, I got to see the world, and my dick (again) was always wet--every other female I met--soldier or civilian--ended up up-ended and grunting to me to go faster.

So baby-sitting SFC Kowalski meant my unaccustomed balls had to go without the nightly unloading. I couldn't beat the meat: it was a matter of pride; a man who jacked off was a man who couldn't score, a hunter who couldn't find his own venison.
 
I conducted the karate classes with the platoon in PE uniform--black shorts and the gray ARMY T-shirts. Everybody hit the showers afterward, then changed back into their fatigues. And since my "battalion assignment" was a surprise to Kowalski, my karate classes had to fit into the training schedule he already had. The only available time in his fully scheduled day was after the karate classes--we had the daily coordination briefings in the locker room. I discussed the next day's training and the men's progress every day with Kowalski as we stood together stark naked.

I think it began there.

Can't figure out why, though. For hell's sake, I had seen naked men before! I still lived in the barracks and saw a whole platoon of naked MPs every morning in the showers.
 
Kowalski's platoon had a new barracks. New tiles in the latrine. Chrome pipes. Plenty of light. Different mood.
 
SFC Brent Kowalski was 10 years younger, a soft-spoken guy from Alabama with a magnolia accent and the lanky bod of a guy who'd spent a few years hopping from girder to girder as a riveter or welder in a Mobile shipyard. He was a good soldier. Knew the regulations. Paid attention to detail. Fair to his men.

But something else: he was handsome! Damn, he was good looking. Blond hair, blue eyes. Square, honest face and a quick smile--straight, white teeth. Even had that movie-star hole in his chin. A real nice guy, he was very easy to work with. Although firm and no-nonsense with his men, I never saw anybody maneuver his troops as easily as Kowalski did. No screaming, no yelling. He literally praised them into such pride they thought they could do anything! His men loved him and would walk over molten lava for him.

He had a good sense of humor. Made wise decisions. I figured he was trustworthy; couldn't see him as a druggie. I liked Kowalski, and he liked me--he treated me with respect. In fact, I felt a little sheepish about snooping. I began to look around for whoever tried to fuck him with a note to the MPs.
 
I was a Master Sergeant--I outranked him--but I enjoyed his company, and I think he enjoyed talking to me. We kidded around, talked about old times, Army gripes.
 
And in the showers every afternoon after my class, slowly, gradually, almost before I knew it, I was watching him, but I mean watching. I looked forward to seeing him without his uniform. I was taller and bigger, but he had good, solid shoulders; hard, rounded pecs; and a washboard belly. Walking away, he displayed hard, rounded buns, each with that cute dimple.
 
But the front view was my favorite. Kowalski's cock was a stunner. Bigger than mine. I out-muscled Kowalski in everything except between the legs. After our daily briefing on the karate class and after we took off our clothes, I wandered into the showers with him, still talking. Once under the sprays of water and washing up, I had to fight to keep my eyes off his crotch.
 
"Yep, and then the ol' MP says to me, he says, 'How come y'all gathered 'round heah? Y'all shootin' craps?' And Artelli, he says, 'No, Sarge, we-all be playin' Monopoly! Okay, I got Park Place and Boardwalk!'
 
"Can y'all believe it?"
 
We were both laughing so hard, we fell into each other's arms for a moment, and we quickly shrugged back out of that, but for a moment I felt that huge dong bumping up against mine. God, what a thrill! But hey, what in fucking hell is happening to me?

Kowalski's tawny skin contrasted erotically against the pale green tiled wall behind him, and the lights above cast shadows outlining every bulge and curve on his body. He looked as hot as a male stripper.
 
But was I so horny that I looked at Kowalski as a sex object, for god's sake? That worried me. Being nailed as a faggot in the US Army in 1968 even beat out smoking a little dope: the Army would toss me out on my ass even if I didn't get 20 years in Leavenworth.

So why in hell am I looking at a naked MAN in the Valley of the Shadow of Death when I'm the biggest motherfucker in the Valley?? This does it! I've got to get myself laid.
 
I had to admit it: Kowalski's body was beautiful. And why not? It's a creation of nature. Why should I be ashamed to appreciate a man's body? As a body-builder I can see the art in a man's physique.

The next afternoon in the showers, I stood there and let the water stream over my hair and down my back, trying to stop thinking about Kowalski and his big cock only two feet away. I opened my eyes and looked down--and there between my legs my own dick was hardening up.
 
I turned my head slightly and looked over at Kowalski. Luckily he was washing his face--eyes closed against the soap--so I could get a good look. His magnificent cock arched over his balls like a construction derrick.

I could almost feel it in my hand--wet and slippery but warm. Throbbing. Growing hard. Stop thinking this shit!
 
He grunted as he got a little soap in his eye (almost as if he could feel my hand). He wiped the water off his face, and his head began to turn--
 
--Zap! My head snapped back to stare straight at the wall in front of me. I was rock hard. Oh, shit! I can't be caught in here with a stiff dick! In desperation, I gave my cockhead a mighty pinch--Yipe! That hurt!--but I felt it going down. Fuck, that was close!
 
In retreat I turned off the water, took my towel from the peg, and plodded back to my locker, drying myself. What the fuck is happening to me? Why am I so hot to look at Kowalski?
 
I pulled on my white Army boxers, green fatigue pants, my socks, and boots. As I laced them up, I fought to see some sense in it all: Okay, there is nothing wrong with appreciating a handsome, well-built man. It's like art.
 
But I gulped. I knew that wasn't all. I was fucking horny from not getting any sex for over a week, and--I had to admit it--I was turned on by the closest possible hole. I wanted to fuck Kowalski. I'd been blown by male teachers, but fucking a man was a sexual frontier I hadn't conquered. Maybe I ought to do it.
 
But I bit my lip. Man-sex in the Sixties, particularly in the military, was maximum taboo. This "liking a man's body" is out of control. Imagine me, the big guy, the stud--wanting to fuck a man. And something else--if he finds out that I'm a spook in his unit, writing up reports about him, we're likely to get into a fight; at any rate, I'll lose him as a friend.
 
I stared straight into the dark green locker. God, what am I going to do? As I sat dazed, pulling on the rest of my uniform, a string of naked men walked by to and from the showers. I glanced quickly at each one.
 
Suddenly from the corner of my eye, I spotted a huge cock, and I turned my head. A short young man slowly sauntered by, doing the usual naked strut with towel slung over his shoulder, consumed in his own thoughts, counting on his fingers--worrying about his income tax, maybe, or how many days leave he had coming.
 
But he was hung like a horse.
 
Forcing myself to control my thoughts, I realized his cock was actually only about as big as Kowalski's cannon, but it looked so gigantic because of his smaller body. Then I glanced up. He was looking down at me, and we made eye contact. Oh shit.

I swear to God, that man looked into my eyes and past them into my brain, and I froze. After what felt like a goddamned minute staring into my eyes, he smiled.

He looked from side to side--we were alone. He looked back into my face, and his hand dropped to stroke his cock. Right there in front of me. Damn!
 
Naturally I watched. The young guy was a new recruit, no more than 19 or so. The sight of his hand stroking along the big cockshaft, the big thing arcing up from his crotch like a swan's neck, and that huge, black, single eye hypnotized me into a statue.
 
Still grinning, he pulled back the foreskin, and I saw his cockhead glowing hot and radioactive. He moved so close I smelled it, that heavy, male scent, and my heart pounded!

He sat on the bench beside me. "Likin' whatcha see, Sarge?"
 
I should've punched the impudent bastard's lights out. Show him what disrespect to a noncommissioned officer meant. In any case I should've screamed his ear off and took his name to go on report.

But what came out was a nervous grunt. "Maybe."
 
He looked from side to side again then grabbed my crotch and fondled the iron stake inside my fatigue pants. I didn't stop him. Too astonished. "Yeah, Sarge, yer glad ta see me, ain'tcha?"
 
Before I could reply to that, he grabbed my hand and pulled it to his cock. Ohmigod! Another man's cock. A first! Gripping it, feeling it, thrills shot up my arm like I grabbed an electric eel, and I trembled.

He moved his head close to mine, his voice low and deep: "I know whatcha need, Sarge. Wait fer me over at the Quartermaster warehouse. I got the keys. We kin be alone in there." Then he got up, slung his towel around his hips, and sauntered off to his locker.
 
Ohmigod! He wants to be my next conquest! Am I going to make that little shrimp my first venture into fucking men?
 
I sat there, my mind buzzing. Okay, here it is, the perfect solution to get my rocks off! I stood up and walked out of the gymnasium, so confused and full of doubt, I almost staggered like a drunk. What do do, what to do? Do I really want to take this step? Add a male to my collection of bitches?
 
I tried to think coldly: Okay, the safest thing to do is just say fuck it, walk back to Kowalski's platoon, and go about my job. Fucking around with males in the Army is like trying to smoke a dynamite stick.
 
Yeah, that's it. This didn't happen. None of this happened!
 
But the palm of my hand and my fingers still smoldered. I couldn't shake the memory--and I had not been walking back to Kowalski's platoon. I found myself in front of the Quartermaster warehouse.

The building was nothing to brag about, an old, derelict Quonset left over from construction many decades ago. Its corrugated tin roof was punctured and torn back, and many of the tin panels around the windows had been torn back by windstorms. All the glass was cloudy with smears of dirt, and I knew the atmosphere in the dump would be stuffy, dusty, everything coated with a layer of grit.

Oh, shit, oh, shit, do I really want to do this?? My heart pounded.
 
I walked up the steps onto the wooden loading dock. This is all going too fast! That little fucker was like a used car salesman throwing numbers at me until I couldn't think straight! My cock was thinking for me, but I forced myself to do some cop-thought:

Okay, I'm going to go for it. If this little guy wants to suck my dick, if he wants me to fuck him, yeah, I'm going to do him. No witnesses, his word against mine, no possibility of a paternity quarrel. I knocked on the door.
 
"C'mon in, Sarge."
 
I took another deep breath, gripped the door handle, and opened the door.

What I didn't know was that on the other side, a step down to the floor of the warehouse was a good foot high, and jittery as I was, I lost my balance, stumbled, and fell forward. I caught myself with my outstretched hands, but on my hands and knees, I looked up at the young guy standing above me. His uniform had Corporal's stripes and the nametag "PARKER."

Parker's pants and skivvies were already shucked down to his knees, and there it was, that cock, that giant cock. He stepped closer, bringing it so near my face, I felt the heat, and once again I smelled it. It drooled precum. My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips.
 
"G'wan, Sarge, we both know whatcha want."

Yeah, I thought, so just give me a second here to get up so you can blow me--but Parker's big cock was throbbing, the foreskin retracted just enough that I saw the hot, purple cockhead inside. He reached down and s l o w l y pulled back the skin.

Like a gooey, wet butterfly being born out of its chrysalis, his cockhead slowly appeared until Pop!--in a sudden burst it filled my vision, and my sight tunneled down until it was all I could see! That steaming, shiny-wet cockhead had me mesmerized, frozen to the spot. Oh, my God, Jesus, this is all going too fast!

Parker put one hand behind my head and pulled my face closer, and--to my dying day I will never know how I lost control so completely--almost against my will, my jaws opened, and with one last look up into his eyes, I took Corporal Parker's cock into my mouth.

A man's cock was in my mouth. I was a cocksucker!
 
No! No, I'm not! This is just an experiment, an accident! I'm here because I want to fuck his ass! But since I'm already here on my knees--

Automatically my tongue diddled around his cockhead, and my fingers gripped around the base. He let out a moan. "I knew it! Yer a natural-born cocksucker, aintcha, Sarge?"

Suddenly, weirdly, I felt proud. Glad I pleased the little guy. My heart pounded, and I heard a roar in my ears. Parker's big cock didn't taste bad. I rather liked it. Then he pushed it harder into my mouth, shoving it back toward my throat. I didn't resist, but when it actually started down my throat, I gagged.

"Fight it, Sarge, fight the gag! You kin do it!"
 
I don't know what the fuck made me obey him--I could've picked the little bastard up with one hand and thrown him across the room--but I threw all my concentration into fighting the gag reflex, and Parker's big rod slid all the way down my throat! I arched my back, straightening out my esophagus to let him in deeper. Somehow I knew I was supposed to. "Uhh, yeah, ya big, fuckin' cocksucker! Take my meat down to yer fuckin' balls!"

Eerie. Fucking eerie! Somehow I liked sucking his cock--and suddenly I was a person I didn't know. What is happening to me?? I've never felt like this before!
 
Tears streaming out of my eyes, my nose ground into his crotch hair, and again I felt that eerie pride--I took every inch of that big cock. I pleased him; I did my duty.

Then I learned something about a real blowjob. Women--and even the male teachers from my school days--sucked my cockhead while jacking my cockshaft with a free hand. Not Parker. He pulled his cock back out of my throat until the head cradled on my tongue again, then wham, he thrust it back down my throat! And again and again! Fucking my throat.

"Take it, take my cock, ya big queer! Feel the power of a real man!" I closed my eyes in shame. No man on earth could've said that to me. Except Parker. The short little runt had me, a medal-winning body-builder, on my knees, sucking his cock like a wimp.

Desperate to breathe, I managed through my nose, gasping during his outstrokes--Look at me, I'm learning to be a cocksucker--but the sounds of his pleasure, his moans and grunts coming faster and faster made me so hot and horny, the unbelievable happened. The corporal's growing excitement--and knowing I did it--turned me on so bad, I shot into an orgasm myself!

Kneeling before him, my own hips lurching, I shot what felt like a quart of jism into my underwear. As the pleasure burned through me, I nodded my head up and down to make it easier for him and vary the angles on the little corporal's wonderful cock.

God! Never had such a big orgasm, not even with Lieutenant Williams, the hot nurse down at the dispensary, the one who took my temperature with my cock down her throat. And now a hard male is fucking MY throat.

 

I had to admit I liked it. But just as an experiment. My real mission is this little twerp's ass!

 

Then I heard him groan, "Ah, yeah, 'at's got it," and I knew I won. I got him, drove him to an orgasm! Sure enough, he rammed it in as far as he could--I felt cockmeat all the way down to my stomach--and a gush of sperm shot into my guts. He pulled it out in time for me to catch the next two or three spurts on my tongue, so I tasted the flavor of victory.

 

Salty, bitter, Male. Fascinating taste.

 

When Parker finally pulled his softening dick out of my mouth, I licked at it, sucking off the last few drops of sperm. "Yeah, 'at's right, Sarge, clean me off."

 

I should've been insulted, but hey, I had just sucked him off. What would a couple more licks matter? I wasn't a cocksucker, just a sort of "visitor," but I was sucking his cock at the moment--might as well enjoy it. We were alone. His word against mine. I held all the cards, so I worked over his cockhead like a suckling baby.

 

 

 

But god, imagine getting caught like this! It would be even worse than being seen fucking him. But there was nothing to do except relax and enjoy it. I liked the feeling of letting loose of myself, of my responsibilities, of my male pride. I looked up at him, and he smiled. "Really liked it, didn'tcha, Sarge?"

 

At any time before that moment, I would have slugged him for even asking such a thing, but with the taste of his sperm in my mouth, I managed only a feeble grin. I nodded my head.

 

He reached down and put a hand under my armpit, pulling me up. "C'mon, get up, Sarge, and let's have a beer." He snickered. "Can't go back to the company with my jism on yer breath."

 

Damn, he's right. I never thought about that.

 

I sat beside him on a large packing crate (sure enough, coated in grit--the seat of my pants would look like I slid in to home plate), and he produced two cans of beer. I opened mine, leaned back against the wall, and took a long swig. Then I looked over at him. He hadn't pulled his pants up, so I got to look at his cock as it lay between his legs, soft and recuperating, his foreskin covering the head again.

 

I had just controlled that big thing. Steered it to a victory. I cleared my throat but still in a hoarse mutter: "Never done anything like this before."

 

"Yeah, I know." He reached out, took my hand, and placed it on his soft cock. "Wanna do it again?"

 

I knew the right answer: no. I wanted to get to the Main Act--my cock up Parker's ass, but what came out was "Yeah, maybe later."

 

He stood up. "Well, while we're waitin', lemme see what yer packin'." He reached for my belt buckle, and I let him open it. I knew it, he's hot for me.

 

He pulled open my pants, then tugged at my pantlegs. I raised my ass to let him pull my fatigue pants down, then he gripped the waistband of my shorts. I lifted my butt again to let him yank them down.

 

He smirked at me as he saw the big, slimy mess of sperm in my shorts. "Good fer ya, was it, Sarge?"

 

My face burned with embarrassment--"Yeah"--and my voice a shy squeak. What the fuck is this? I'm the baddest motherfucker at Fort Garrison, and I'm a good 19 years older than this little shit. How in hell am I playing the shy little schoolgirl with him?

 

He pulled open the laces of my boots and pulled them off, then yanked my pants and boxers off completely. I knew it, he's so horny for me, he's got to see me naked.

 

"Spread yer legs, Sarge."

 

Okay, he's going to start with a blowjob. At least we'll be even. I was horny, too, my heart pounding, my cock at full-on hardness.

 

The corporal stood between my spread legs and grabbed them, swiveling me around, moving my back away from the wall. I caught on: he wanted me to lie back on the packing crate. Then he crawled onto it, scrambling up between my legs. Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, here it comes!

 

But instead of my cock, he grabbed each of my knees and lifted them, spreading my legs even wider. I cooperated, lifting my legs, wondering why he wound me up like that. He bent his head down for me, though, and I took a deep breath--Now I get a blowjob!

 

But like he had plugged an extension cord into my asshole, lightning-bolts of pure, animal arousal shot through me! His tongue swiped around my rectum!

 

Jesus fucking Christ! I never felt anything like that in my life!

 

My first instinct was to tighten up against his probing tongue, but the sensation was so sizzling, so irresistible, I soon relaxed and spread my legs even wider, moaning in ecstasy. Mo-ther-fucker! I thought I'd experienced it all. God, what a thrill!

 

Parker paused and looked up. "Really hot fer it, ain'tcha, Sarge?"

 

"Yeah! Oh, yeah!" Somehow I knew it would be the greatest blowjob I ever got. Maybe men really did give better head. I wanted it; I wanted it bad.

 

He went back to ass-diddling me into insanity, driving me into such arousal that I wanted to go along with anything he wanted to do. I never dreamed such terrible excitement could come from my asshole! It was more than I could stand, and I panted like a bitch in heat. God I wanted him!

 

I swore an oath to myself, when I finally fuck him, I'm going to make sure he'll never forget it. I'll give him every trick I know, everything that 28 years of fucking have taught me. I'll have him walking bowlegged and purring for a week.

 

Again the voice: "Ya ready?"

 

"Oh, God, yeah! Yeah, I'm hot! Do it!" I never wanted a blowjob so bad--I would've stood out in the company street with my pants down to let him do it.

 

He rose up over me, pushing my knees back even more, but instead of bowing down to suck my cock into his mouth, he lowered his hips to my ass, aiming his hard cock between my legs, mounting me!

 

"What?? Hey!"

 

But I was too fuck-drunk, so dazed and horny from his licking my asshole. I was on fire. Corporal Parker was a little twerp--I could've tossed him off me with a shrug, but I didn't. Something in me made me watch as he took aim, and his cockhead pressed against my asshole. Oh, no, not this!

 

Horny, hot--so crazy and insane from what I learned later was called a rim job--in the weirdest way I wanted to cooperate, to please him. To obey. I lay there, looking up at his face, then down at his cock as he took me.

 

As he took my manhood.

 

As he took my authority, my dignity, and my respect.

 

YEEOW!! God, it hurt! I stiffened, arching my back, choking back a scream. He backed off on the pressure, lessening the pain for a moment, but again AAH, the big stump tried to split me in half. I could hardly breathe from the pain!

 

I heard myself begging him to let me go, but he gave another big shove, and ARRGH! With a pain so great I thought I'd pass out, his cockhead passed through my gates, and "Gotcha, Sarge, got yer cherry!"

 

He paused there for a moment and leaned forward on his hands, one on each of my nipples. "Yer my bitch now," he murmured.

 

So it was true.

 

It was not pleasure, though, it was pain. My asshole never stretched around anything that thick before, and all my horniness vanished. My whole world was the stabbing pain in my ass! And the terrible pain in my heart: I AM a bitch, a queer, a faggot! A man has stuck his cock up my ass. I'm no longer cherry.

 

It felt like hell! No pleasure at all! What a letdown. He'd stopped moving, for which I was glad, and I wanted just to tell him to get the fuck off me. Maybe I'll beat the little bastard up for trying something like this with me!

 

But slowly he started pushing in again, and although the pain came back, it was not as much as before, and finally I felt his cockhair, the same stuff he'd ground into my nose, scratching and tickling against my balls. "In ya, man," he grunted, "alla way."

 

I was so ashamed, I turned my head away. God, what a nightmare. But quietly, down deep inside me, again that weird pride. I took his whole length.

 

Every once in a while, a girl screamed if I sank too much into her pussy, so anybody with a dong like Kowalski or Parker probably heard that, too--but I had taken him to the last inch, down to his cockhair! Better than any woman.

 

He liked it, and somehow that made me strangely glad. Like I'd done my duty.

 

He paused there for a few moments, savoring his triumph and conquest--letting me think about the fact that when this was over, he would outrank me, in a way--and I'll be damned, the pain gradually faded away!

 

The biggest revelation was yet to come--when he began the outstroke, slowly pulling back, I was amazed:

 

It . . . felt . . . wonderful!

 

The pain blended into a sensation I'd never felt before! Another new sexual experience! Pleasure radiated out from my asshole through my whole body, and I was confounded--who knew a man could get such a terrific pleasure from his asshole!

 

Every stroke after that scored ecstatic friction! Again I could hardly breathe, but this time because it felt so wonderful! Damn, it was fabulous! The faster and harder he lunged into me, the stronger the pleasure, until I heard myself croaking, "Faster, man! Faster!" The very words my bitches yelped to me.

 

My head spinning, I reached up around his shoulders and pulled him down to me. I had to hug him, I had to do something in return for the ecstasy. Before I knew it, he was kissing me!

 

Almost gracefully (compared to the savagery of the lunges below) his lips dropped onto mine, and after the initial shock--My God, I'm kissing a man!--I kissed him back, melting like a steel bar in a furnace.

 

The hottest kiss I ever had. No woman, not even that captain's wife I double-teamed with Sergeant Shawnessy a few years ago gave me a kiss like that. Trails of fire ran out from my lips, and I felt my face flushed.

 

His tongue jabbed into my mouth and overcame my own in the sword-fight in spit, and he claimed me as his. He controlled me at both ends. It was all I could take--again I lost all control, and a tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure swept over me, shooting my jism all over my chest. Unimaginable bliss! I stiffened up, my toes curled, and my eyes rolled back in their sockets.

 

And it wasn't over! After eight or nine ejaculations, my orgasm eased off, leaving me light-headed and drunk, but the corporal still lunged after his own climax, and his bone-jarring lunges into my ass kept me at near orgasm pitch for nearly 20 minutes! For twenty fucking minutes I never came down!

 

The friction of that big, knobby cockshaft chattering through my hypersensitive asshole kept me floating just short of ejaculation so long, I thought I was dying. My vision blurred, the roaring was back in my ears, and I found myself licking the drops of sweat off his face like an adoring dog.

 

And Parker wanted variety: he ordered me to get up. He lay back, then I sat on him, impaling myself on that fabulous cock, starting the pleasure again. Later he ordered me onto my hands and knees, and when he got in the saddle, I learned even more about what one man could do for another. Stabs of joy shot through me as his cock battered my prostate.

 

He made me so hot I couldn't stand it. I wanted to suck something! Jack something! Anything to quench the blazing fire. Never had such an overwhelming experience.

 

I had one more thing to learn: when the young fuck-god unloaded his sperm in me, I went abso-fucking-lutely crazy! I felt the jets of sperm pumping into my ass! When I realized he was breeding me, pumping his jism into me, I got such a terrible wave of pride, I cummed still again, my cock spouting joyous gushes of my boiling slime all over the warehouse floor.

 

Fabulous! Sex with Parker was the most intense of my whole life. Three ejaculations, one right after the other! I'd never done anything like that.

 

He collapsed on my back, and I loved the feeling of supporting his weight, his warm body still connected to mine by the mighty power cable of his cock. I could've crouched there as his undercarriage for the rest of the night, but that wasn't to be.

 

Corporal Parker rose up off me, pulled his cock out, and stood up. My ass felt empty, abandoned, robbed. I looked back over my shoulder at him, then rolled over to sit on my ass--right in the middle of the mess of my own sperm.

 

He hurriedly pulled on his pants. "Gotta leave now, haveta be over at the company fer night watch." He pulled on his green baseball cap. "Thanks, Sarge. Seeya later. Let yerself out; the door'll lock behind ya." And he was gone.

 

I got up, dressed, and left. I walked all the way back to the bachelor NCO barracks, my mind buzzing with titanic discoveries.

 

On one hand I had never felt so much like shit--I had just proven I was a fairy, a cupcake, a limp-wristed faggot. I was filthy, covered with dust and dirt both on my skin and on my uniform. And inside.

 

But on the other hand, I had never felt so liberated, so pleasured, so physically wonderful in my whole fucking life!

 

Back on my bunk, I couldn't sleep. My mind went 100 miles an hour, reliving every second of my sex-baptism with Corporal Parker. God, I loved what he did to me. I didn't get to fuck him, didn't even get my blowjob, but I didn't care.

 

I just pined for the next time he did his thing with me.

 

What? The next time?? What are you thinking? You're going to be this guy's whore?

 

It hit me like the ceiling crashed down on me: Yeah. I want that guy to fuck me again.

 

Then another thought, a scary one. What would it be like to be fucked by Kowalski? I gritted my teeth. He was ultra-straight. We even joked about women, and some of his men had hinted to me that he had a stable of eager town-babes. Shit.

 

 

 

And something else: how could I get into a relationship with a man I was investigating? Let's see, if I spread my legs and help the guy penetrate my asshole, does that mean my objectivity is compromised?

 

Only if you get pregnant.

 

There, you see? Kowalski can fuck me.

 

Funny thoughts, but I didn't smile. Damn, I wish I wasn't spying on this guy!

 

A long time later I finally fell asleep.

 

I woke up next morning, the blood coursing through my veins, full of vim and energy, eager to get at the day. At the mess hall for breakfast, a PFC looked at me with raised eyebrows. "What's with you today, Master Sergeant? Still running on the caffeine from coffee at the overnight duty?"

 

"Uh, yeah. Overnight duty. Lot of coffee..."

 

As I went to work, the sky was blue, the day was beautiful and warm, and I felt great! In Kowalski's Company office, one of the clerks chuckled, "What's with you, Master Sergeant, you get laid last night? You're whistling while you work."

 

For hell's sake, was I whistling? I felt like a happy schoolboy. I couldn't get Corporal Parker off my mind, which meant I walked around with a hardon. And as the hours ticked by, I got hornier and hornier.

 

For the karate class, I suited up in the usual black shorts and T-shirt, but I put on two jockstraps--I had a hardon that simply would not go down, and my only hope was to strap it against me so tight it couldn't give me away with a black tent between my legs.

 

As I led the class through the warm-up calisthenics, I spotted Parker near the back. He really was a wimp, the smallest guy in the whole platoon, but when I thought of what throbbed behind those black trunks, my own cock surged against the woven-mesh restraints. My legs felt weak for a second, and I almost lost the cadence: Down-two-three-four, Up-two-three-four!

 

The rest of the class was a blur. I showed them some blocks and strikes, demonstrated with two or three of them, then set the rest to practice with their partners. At one point I had just shown one of the GIs a hip-throw, kneeling on the sand beside the guy, showing him how the arms can swivel into a half-nelson as he goes down, when I heard The Voice:

 

"Master Sergeant, can ya show me that?"

 

I looked up, and there stood Parker. Again, so close I felt the heat from his body, and I swear I smelled that scent of male! To my intense embarrassment, my voice squeaked, "What?

 

"Can ya show me that take-down and that hold?"

 

"Uh, yeah, sure." Again, my voice cracked like a schoolboy reading a love poem.

 

I let the first guy go, then I stood up and faced Parker. "Okay, come at me." My balls instantly calculated another meaning for those words, and my cock twinged again.

 

Parker jumped toward me. I easily sidestepped, then moved him off-balance over my hip. I swiveled him over me and dropped him onto the sand. As he fell, I followed, looping my hand under his armpit, then up to grab the back of his neck.

 

I had him trapped--but I had accidentally ended up with my face over his hips, an inch above the giant cock waiting behind that thin layer of black cloth. Or was it an accident?

 

And as if he were merely trying to get up, Parker raised his hips off the sand and ground his cock--harder than iron--against my mouth!

 

The memories came roaring back! For one split second, I craved to suck and lick around that big bulge, but (God looks out for the dumb) I came to my senses and stood up. Parker got up, too, and smiled. "Thanks, Sarge. Are we engaged now?"

 

The little shit. I was breathing hard and not from the exertion. He knew what I wanted.

 

I didn't like Parker in spite of the fact that I let him get my cherry--and in spite of the fact that at the moment I was living for the next time he would fuck me. He was a vindictive little bastard who fought against authority and--Ohmigod!

 

It hit me: Parker sent the note about Kowalski!

 

Later, in the naked briefing session with Kowalski (what I had come to think of as the "happy hour"), I asked him about Corporal Parker.

 

"The boy's a tough case. Judge told him jail or the Army, so we'uns got the problem." Kowalski smiled. "He's okay. Ah just have to keep a close eye on him."

 

Again, I had to take off my hat to Kowalski. Nothing brought him down. Positive attitude oozing from his pores. A real nice guy. I felt like shit, spying on one of the good guys.

 

But speaking of oozing, I couldn't help but notice that his cock was indeed, bigger than Parker's, and the thought of what it could do to me made me a little dizzy.

 

I owed him a favor, god damn it. I was going to get in touch with Parker, tell him the MPs knew he sent the note, and threaten him with federal charges if he ever did anything like that again. And, yeah--I would toss in an order to request a transfer out of Kowalski's unit.

 

During the day's infantry training, I spotted the little shit, and I motioned him off to the side, into some trees where we could be alone. "Corporal, I've got something to say to you--

 

--He chuckled, "Yeah, yer a natural, ain'tcha, Sarge?" He reached down and groped my crotch. "Same place. During the noon hour." And with that he trotted back out of the trees, back to the platoon.

 

It pissed me off. He was an E-4. I was an E-8, about 20 years older, a foot taller, and 125 pounds heavier. I deserved a little respect. But his sticky white swimmers had burrowed into my guts; he did get my cherry.

 

Somehow he was on top.

 

I decided to read him the riot act at the Quartermaster warehouse, so for the rest of the morning I was on pins and needles (trying not to be, but so horny I felt my cock drooling precum into my shorts). I actually worried I might be working up a dark, wet spot in the front of my olive-green fatigue pants. Damn it, I'm not going over there to fuck! I'm going to meet him for a showdown!

 

At noon I hurried over to the warehouse. It was locked, so I loitered around, waiting, eager, breathing hard. Damn it, I am NOT eager! I am NOT here for sex!

 

Finally Parker showed up. "Well, ain't we the little Eager Beaver? Yer beaver eager fer me, Sarge?"

 

I thought I would be made, but I couldn't answer. Too embarrassed. Goddamnit, I'm fucking SHY around him! What is it about him that makes me bow to him?

 

I followed him through the door, then he suddenly turned around and grabbed my belt buckle, undoing my pants. "C'mon, Sarge, we ain't got much time."

 

I swear to god I don't know what happened. Instead of teaching the little fuck the value of respecting a noncommissioned officer, suddenly I had my boots off, and I was sitting on the floor, shucking down my pants. The Main Mission had become three: (1) fucking Parker to get even and regain some of my manhood, (2) maybe just once more letting that man's cock stretch out my asshole, and (3) giving him the "Get out of town" threat.

 

He smiled, slowly pulling open his pants. "Ya been thinkin' about this ever since last night, ain'tcha, Sarge?" He stepped closer, bring that mesmerizing cock close to my face. Without a second thought, I sucked it into my mouth. "Yeah, that's it, wet it down fer me while I git ready."

 

I sucked his cock, maneuvering around as he pulled down his pants. Then he pulled down his underwear. God, I loved that big dong. When he pulled it out of my mouth, I kissed it.

 

Stark naked, I lay back on the magic packing crate, spread my legs, and lifted them, waiting, eager (my fucking him could wait). Parker, fully dressed except that his pants were down, crawled between my legs, up across my chest, and lowered his hips to mount me.

 

Breathing hard, I reached down to guide his cock to my target, "C'mon, Parker, there you go, now you got me: Fuck me!"--

 

--ANGH! It hurt again, but I had been here, done this, so I knew what to expect--it was a good pain. His cockhead blasted past my ass-ring, and he was in! The pleasure began as his big rod slid into my guts, and I writhed under him, giving myself up, wallowing in the pleasure of submission, the weight of my responsibilities lifting off my shoulders as I became his meat-hole, his cum-slut, his worshipful sex-slave.

 

The gray, gritty, dust-covered warehouse became a palace in Monte Carlo, and the packing crate was a four-poster bed with crisp white sheets embroidered with his initials and silk pillows decorated with embroidered pictures of my asshole.

 

I was too much on edge: the second he pulled back and started humping, I went over the falls, into a full-on orgasm, spurting my happy jism all over my chest. Parker lifted his torso up and away, keeping my sticky jets of sperm from splattering over his uniform. "Yeah, yer my bitch, awright."

 

I would never have permitted those words in public, but with his wonderful cock catapulting me to Valhalla, I was just fine with it. I was good and comfortable being Corporal Parker's bitch for the moment. As along as he did what he did to me, I would be anything he wanted.

 

Just like before, when my orgasm finally burned out, it didn't go away, just reduced in intensity, becoming a flowing river of pleasure, a drunken ecstasy, and he could keep me like that for as long as his big cock thrust through my hole. Is this what it's like for women? No wonder they're always after me.

 

My rectum--my "beaver," as he put it--had become my most intense sexual organ. I let everything go--my military rank, my authority as a cop, my age, my strength, everything! I just lived to be the meat-hole this fabulous young stud used.

 

I clenched my asshole around his cock, adding to his pleasure, anything to serve him, and when I spotted him going into his orgasm, I planned to pull him down to me and kiss him, but it didn't happen that way.

 

"What in hell is going on here??"

 

I recognized that voice. LTC Teroth, the battalion commander. Ohmigod, NO!

 

Parker didn't stop lunging against me, and for as much as I wanted to stop, my brain black with horror, Parker was in control. My body was floating in heaven from the asshole-reaming of my young Alpha male, and although I could have snapped the little jerk in two by clenching my thighs, I couldn't deny it: he owned me. I was his. His bitch.

 

Finally I felt his cock swell even bigger, and with a long groan, he thrust into me to the max, once more punching my prostate, making me dizzy with pleasure. The warm swelling inside meant he was breeding me again, loading me with a balls-worth of jism.

 

Again that strange pride: I was bearing his sperm. His swimmers were spreading out into my body. I clenched my asshole to hold them in.

 

Then both of us rose up, and Parker looked back over his shoulder. Colonel Teroth stood there in righteous anger, and I saw my military career going up in smoke. The palace in Monaco suddenly flashed into the suffocating, sulfurous chamber of Satan's throne room in the volcano.

 

The colonel looked at me. "Master Sergeant Bailey, never thought it would be you"--

 

That little rat-fuck Parker set me up!

 

Parker crawled off the crate, and Teroth and I stared at each other. His eyes flashed fire. Mine were those of a dead fish.

 

When I finally looked around, Parker was gone. Disappeared. When the big fish gets caught, the little fish get away.

 

Lieutenant Colonel Teroth, the battalion commander, reached down, going for a pager I figured, one of those new things that ring alarm bells far away with just the push of a button. MPs would soon show up to put me in handcuffs.

 

But instead, he pulled open his pants! My jaw dropped open. I saw the CO's cock for the first time, and I couldn't believe my eyes. Not a bad cock. Not as big as Parker's, but at least as thick.

 

I gazed as the colonel crawled up onto the packing crate onto me. When I realized what he intended to do--and that I had dodged the bullet--if that's what it took, I wanted the colonel's cock in me.

 

I lay back and waited. Teroth drew closer, staring me in the eyes as he mounted, and UNGH, my asshole stretched around the CO's cockshaft. His lunges soon brought me back to simmering pleasure. God I love this! How come I never discovered man-sex before?

 

Teroth was a horny old stag, and he pumped me for 10 or 15 minutes, thrusting pleasure with every lunge, and when I heard him let out a groan, I got another warm fullness in my guts. I had been bred again.

 

Without a word, Colonel Teroth pulled out, leaving me weak and limp, falling back like a cum-soaked rag. He buttoned himself up and left the warehouse. Finished with me.

 

No thanks. No "good job, Sarge." I was just his pussy. His bitch.

 

And God help me, something about that turned me on so much, my cock swelled into an iron stake. I stood in the middle of the floor, yanking at my cock like a teenager, jacking off until I, too, let out a long groan and saluted the glory of being a male with the white fireworks of my cum. First time I had jacked myself off in decades.

 

And glory of glories, I was not marked as a queer!

 

Tired, really fucked out, I dragged myself over to the post gym to take another shower. I smelled of sex and hoped I didn't draw too much attention, but the gym, after all, smelled like a gym, so I hope to blend into the sweat-scent.

 

For the rest of the day I struggled to adjust. I had just been fucked by the lowest and the highest. For hell's sake, how many queers are there on this post? My world was not exactly crashing down around me, but it was certainly rearranging.

 

I went to the barracks that night thoughtful and a little worried. In spite of the fact that I had just been the commanding officer's lover, if it were ever discovered, my head would be on the chopping block. As an officer, LTC Teroth no doubt had all sorts of legal safety nets around him, but I would be dropped down the elevator shaft.

 

I decided I needed to rein in the galavanting libido and cool it for a while. I don't need them--and for god's sake, the battalion commander! Who knew? But I've made it 40 years without being anybody's bitch.

 

But I'll be damned if the next morning, while I meandered some distance behind Kowalski as he directed his platoon through some maneuvers in the woods, Parker himself came up behind me and pulled me behind a tree.

 

"What the hell are you doing?" My voice was a hiss. "Goddamnit, we'll get caught! And you, you little bastard, you set me up!"

 

To answer my question, he pulled open the fly of his fatigues and fetched out that big scepter. My voice choked into a desperate squeak. "No!"

 

"Yer just a cunt, Sarge. Ya know all ya wanna do is service a real man." With his hands on my shoulders, he pushed down, and as I stared down at his big throbber, my own pulse sped up to match his throbs, and I couldn't help myself. God, he's right! I sank to my knees and took it into my mouth.

 

His voice was low, like a cello: "How's it feel, Sarge, learnin' whatcha really are? No shame in that. Ever'body's gotta be somethin'."

 

Then, as if my mind wasn't already blown enough, we were interrupted. "Hey, Parker, what you doing all the way back--Jesus Christ!"

 

I knew that voice, and my guts clenched up. Kowalski.

 

Of all the men I knew, he was the hardcore purest, the straightest arrow. I would never survive this discovery. Again my whole life passed before my eyes. My military career would last the approximately 15 minutes he would take to hop in the Jeep and drive back to the company.

 

"Master Sergeant Bailey, ah never'd believe y'all would..."

 

Parker won again, the little fucker. He scurried away in a second.

 

Alone with Kowalski, my brain on fire, my whole world in flames, I expected some sort of straight-guy curse, but instead, "Master Sergeant Bailey, you big son of a bitch, ah never dreamed y'all would be into this!"

 

I hung my head in shame.

 

"Ah been a-lusting after y'all since the day ah saw that big chest in the doorway, you big, handsome fucker!"

 

What? "Big"? "Handsome"? I was speechless. Could've knocked me over with a feather.

 

"C'mere, you!" He reached out and pulled me to my feet. "Ah been horny for y'all for so long, ah gotta have ya right now!" So overwhelmed I couldn't stop him, Kowalski pulled me to him and kissed me!

 

God, what a kiss!

 

Parker had set me on fire, but I was just a cum dump to him, and I saw ever more clearly how the rebellious little bastard had set me up for disaster. On the other hand, kissing Kowalski was like an orgasm from the mouth. From the moment his open mouth clamped onto mine, it became a wonderful, beautiful blending of our bodies into one.

 

His arms went around me, and I melted into him--even though I had to bend over a little. What a man! I was putty in his hands. I pressed myself against every angle of his body, wishing to be part of him, and when we finally broke, I was breathing hard.

 

His voice in my ear was deep and quiet. "Yeah, Bailey, ah been a-wantin' y'all for so long, this is damn-well the hottest day of mah life."

 

That blew my mind, and my knees went weak. I had never in my whole goddamned life been so caught off-guard, so mother-fuckingly blind-sided. Kowalski was the fucking Poster Boy for happily paired-off heterosexuality! And he had been "a-wantin'" me?

 

That touched every fucking button in my body! Never had I been so turned on, so shotgun-blast aroused. Down deep inside, down at the very bottom of my balls, I swear to God, I wanted to feel his jism inside me. So when he growled in my ear that he had to have me right that very second, only my most basic, fight-or-flight survival instincts made me gasp, "No, we can't! Anybody could catch us!"

 

But, still embracing me, he hustled me over to a dense thicket of bushes and shoved us both inside the close and dusty copse. When Kowalski turned me around and yanked down my pants, I knew what he wanted.

 

And I wanted what he wanted.

 

I leaned over one of the sturdier bushes and bent my knees--I was a good six inches taller, after all--and I spread my legs. I even reached back to spread my cheeks for him. And, the masterful lover, he hit the jackpot with his first probe. The gigantic cock I had been admiring for weeks split me open like a ripe melon.

 

The pain was terrific, but I loved it! As I gradually grew comfortable with the mighty stretch I had to manage around him, I knew he was the best, the perfect lover. Everything about him was perfect. I wished I could face him and look at his beautiful face as he made me his.

 

Sure enough, once he was in and--the perfect gentleman--he let me adjust to his unbelievable size, the pleasure started, and Oh My God, did the pleasure ever start! I creamed myself from the second he started pumping me. My man. The thought formed in my brain like a TV picture coming into focus. Kowalski--my man--is fucking me. I gripped his mighty cock tightly with my ass-ring, shyly trying to be a virgin for him. He reached under me, and I was glad I had big pecs he could play with. He twisted my nipples, and I let out a groan.

 

As his mighty shaft--God, it's rough as an oak branch--moved through my poor, ravaged asshole, he breathed, "Shit, Bailey, y'all are something else!"

 

I'd never been so proud in my life.

 

"God, y'all are tight," he panted. "The biggest, baddest, handsomest man ah ever knowed is tighter than a teenage girl! God, y'all turn me on!"

 

Those words tasted like Hershey's kisses, and I had to face him. I pulled away, turned to face him, then jumped up high, raising my legs up over his arms. He caught my knees, supporting my legs with his arms, then lowered me down to skewer my eager asshole over his big cock again. I leaned back against the bush, and we fucked face-to-face, my feet off the ground, impaled on his fire-breathing cock. I brought my face to his for another heart-pounding, military-strength, cum-boiling kiss!

 

All I wanted out of life was to stay nestled there, plugged into my lover, my balls tickled by his thick, blond groin hair. We rocked and swayed in the ancient dance, and I rubbed his sides and pinched his nipples. He gasped when we broke the kiss: "Yeah."

 

I was going crazy: "Talk dirty to me, man! I'm your bitch, tell me what you're going to do to me!"

 

While his hips jackhammered me, he looked down on me with that grim, serious smile. "Gonna fuck y'all's ass! Y'all will walk bowlegged tomorra. Gonna breed y'all, give y'all my baby!" And he went right back into another lip-lock!

 

I'm in heaven!

 

Breaking the kiss again, he purred in my ear, "God, man, y'all are perfect!"

 

What a guy. He couldn't talk dirty; he just didn't know how to be a low-life! His soft compliment turned me on even hotter than the Parker-style dirty talk, and I reached down under my ass to fondle his balls as he lunged into me. I loved trying to turn him on even more.

 

I don't know now long we were in there--probably five minutes, but to me it felt like only five seconds--when, too soon, I felt Kowalski start the machine-gun thrusts of a man reaching his climax. I tightened my asshole to grip him for maximum pleasure and kissed him again at the moment I felt his sperm surging up through my guts.

 

God, his jism made it all the way to my brain. I felt it--my mind had been changed, altered, evolved. The Rubix Cube of life had clicked into alignment, and I knew the Way It Is.

 

We stood in the thicket like that for a long time, my body anchored in time and space on the polar antenna of his mighty manhood, my legs wrapped around him, my arms around his shoulders, our mouths flowing wordless messages between us. God, I knew what it felt like to be inseminated; I actually hoped I was pregnant.

 

I never wanted to disconnect; I was in man-heaven. But all good fucks have to come to an end. Kowalski released my legs, and that backbreaker-cock slipped out of my ass. Shortly later my boots hit the ground. Man, did I feel great! More relaxed and--I'll say it--fulfilled than I'd ever been in my whole fucking life.

 

Once again taller than he was, I bent down to kiss him, a soft, gentle, affectionate kiss. Thought-waves flowed from my brain through my lips: Thank you, thank you, thank you!

 

After a minute or two, he broke the kiss, and I hugged him close. His mouth nuzzling my ear, he murmured, "Ya big, musclebound, good-lookin' dude, who'd ever thunk y'all would end up on the end of my dick!"

 

I happily ground my crotch against his. "I've got two ends to end up on your dick." God, did I actually say that??

 

He smiled. "Y'all and me gonna be a thing? Y'all wanna service me regular for as long as y'all are assigned here?"

 

As I pulled back and looked into his eyes, he spoke again, his voice soft and low, like the powerful, ominous rumble of a distant thunderstorm: "Y'all wanna be my bitch?"

 

Never thought to hear those words in my life--and I never dreamed I would answer, "Yeah." It was instant. Without hesitation.

 

I dropped my hands down between us to fondle his big artillery, and as a sign of submission, I sank to my knees and took that wondrous organ into my mouth, sucking him with worship, wanting nothing more than to be of use to him. Damn, is this what my ass tastes like? But I didn't care. Anything to bring pleasure to him.

 

God, what a cock! It spread my jaws so wide, I couldn't open any more--I barely managed not to scrape him with my teeth. My poor little asshole stretched around this? I drew a deep breath. From now on I can carry my canteen up my ass!

 

But we needed to get into the Army. Kowalski pulled back, stuffed his big boy back into his pants, took my arms, and pulled me to my feet. We struggled out of the bushes and stepped back into Real Life.

 

Kowalski squeezed my ass and whispered in my ear: "Wear a jockstrap from now on. Less underwear to get through." With that he walked away, back to his troops, and I sank down to sit on a log, completely fucked out. Kowalski had exhausted and emptied me in every way possible.

 

And I would wear a jockstrap every day for the rest of my life.

 

My man. My god, I'm in love with him! That we would become lovers had been unthinkable, unimaginable, but all those forbidden, not-even-admitted dreams had come true! My asshole clenched sensuously, remembering the flame-thrower between his legs.

 

I made my way to the barracks that night deep in thought. It was true: I was Kowalski's bitch, his personal cunt, his trained cocksucker. But as much as I tried to make those descriptions ugly, somehow they ran off me like raindrops. I loved the big lug--even though I was bigger--and what he could do to me with that meat-cannon of his was something I would pay good money for. Hell, yes, if I had to pick him up off the street and give him $100 to fuck me, I'd just turn over my paycheck to him every month!

 

You are a whore, you know that? A gay male cum-slut.

 

Yeah. I'll be anything he wants. "Gay male cum-slut." That wasn't so bad. Not with Kowalski.

 

My world was turned so upside-down, I half expected the tree leaves to be purple or the sky green. My body had been fucked into complete, total contentment and submission. All I wanted to do was hit the sack and dream of Kowalski.

 

The next morning I had to sneak over to the MP headquarters to turn in my update and check for messages. I had one. From LTC Teroth. Oh, shit.

 

FROM: LTC Teroth

 

TO: SFC Bailey

 

SUBJ: Hail & Farewell

 

You are ordered to attend H&F; Ceremony at residence LTC Teroth, 21 Cannon Rd., Fort Garrison. Saturday, 7 MAR 68, 1500 HRS.

 

Arnold Teroth

 

LTC Armor

 

Commanding

 

I couldn't believe it! I was invited--no, ordered--to attend a party at the battalion commander's house! He lived in one of the old antebellum mansions on the loop in the officers' housing area. His was the biggest, looking out over the old stone wall of the ancient fort and the old cannons standing guard beside stacks of cannonballs.

 

Since he had fucked me, were we suddenly "social acquaintances"?

 

After the karate class and the shy, blushing nude meeting with Kowalski (both of us trying to hide raging hardons from the view of the troops), I had an important errand.

 

Parker had been absent from the karate class, and since the only way to legally get out of platoon duty was to go on sick call, I double-timed over to the dispensary. Lieutenant Williams, the Army nurse with the furnace-cunt, told me Parker was there faking a cold. She snickered. "He's not very good at it, but I've wanted to take a day off every now and then, myself.

 

I told her I was there to take custody of him. I had my black MP armband on. I was in full cop-mode.

 

Parker's face went white when I pulled back the curtain around his bed. "Get up, Parker, and get dressed. You're coming with me."

 

He was full of excuses, pleadings, explanations, and begging, of course, but he got up and pulled on his uniform. I marched him out to the Jeep, we both climbed in, and I drove off toward the tank maneuver area.

 

At the far southern end of Fort Garrison was a medium-sized hill with a sharp drop-off over the civilian highway cutting across the fort. Part of the easement arrangement with the city as it grew to envelop the federal land of the military base, the road gave travelers occasional glimpses of armored maneuvers and war games.

 

"Where we goin', Sarge? C'mon, don't you wanna suck this again?" I glanced over. He had his cock out, and I had to admit I ached to take him up on the offer.

 

But I gnashed my teeth. "You tried very hard to fuck up two innocent guys, you little shit. Just for a fucking rebellious, babyish attitude. You hate authority, and you would have ruined the lives of two GIs just for kicks."

 

I smiled. "But you taught me the joys of fucking, you taught me that deep inside I'm a bitch aching for a man to have his way with me."

 

I paused, and Parker looked over, pointing his cock at me again.

 

"So I just brought you here to say goodbye."

 

"Goodbye?"

 

"Yeah, I think you might just want to go AWOL. Once it gets out to the troops that you've tried to torpedo two of your own, I estimate your lifespan to be a week at most." I looked him in the face. "I'm doing you a favor."

 

With that I marched him to the top of the hill. Then I started pulled his uniform off. He started to struggle, of course, but remember what I said about Korean Karate and hand-to-hand combat? Parker was no more than a buzzing fly to me, and I stripped him of everything but his underwear and boots.

 

"This way, buddy, nobody will figure you're a GI and bring you back to the fort." I pushed him toward the edge of the bluff. "The town is just around that curve in the distance. There's a hospital right there, and if you can drag yourself that far, you'll probably live."

 

With that, I pushed Parker over the bluff, and he fell, stumbled, tumbled, and rolled, bouncing off rocks and falling over inclines all the way down. I didn't hang around to see what happened when he got to the bottom.

 

I drove back to the barracks, where I preened and took care of my Class-A uniform. I had to spend some hours polishing my boots, Brasso-ing my belt buckle, and polishing the buttons with cotton swabs.

 

I straightened the rows of ribbons on the chest and aligned my nametag. When I finished, I hung the uniform in my closet, safe from any disturbance, and hit the sack.

 

Saturday was a confused blur. I couldn't think of anything but the colonel's party, and for as much as I tried to, I couldn't think of it with anything other than dread. I did take a Jeep and make a short cruise to the highway under the bluff. When I passed the cliff, I didn't see a body at the foot of it, so I figured Parker had survived and taken my advice.

 

I drove back to the fort, to 21 Cannon Road, and at 1500 hours on the button I rang the doorbell. Lieutenant Braddock, the colonel's aide, opened the door. "This way, Sarge."

 

In the mansion's ballroom a dozen or so men in uniform stood near a long table with an embroidered white cloth over it. A punchbowl with something orange sat in the middle of the table, and a few of the men sipped whatever it was from small glasses.

 

LTC Teroth spotted me. "Sergeant Bailey, welcome." He shook my hand, then turned to address the group. "Gentlemen, this is Sergeant First Class Tom Bailey, our newest member."

 

When I looked at him in surprise, he smiled. "We have these little get-togethers when my wife and family are away from the house for a while. This is not exactly a hail and farewell--we are welcoming you as a new 'recruit,' but no one is transferring out. This is a secret club."

 

I looked from face to face in the group. All were men in good physical shape, but everybody in the Army was in good shape. Some of them were handsome, some were not. Some were young, others were even older than I. I couldn't figure out what kind of club it could be, and why "secret"?

 

Then I spotted him! At the very back! Kowalski! Oh my god! My blood ran cold. LTC Teroth was the guy who assigned me to Kowalski's platoon as a spy.

 

I hoped somehow the "snoop" issue might fade away once I was no longer part of Kowalski's unit, so being in the same room with both men at once was like being locked in a room full of gunpowder, running around with a candle on my ass.

 

Then every man in the room began to unbutton his uniform. I watched aghast as green coats covered with ribbons and medals dropped to the floor followed by black Army ties, and khaki colored dress shirts. The room of bare-chested men looked back at me expectantly. "Go ahead, Sarge, strip down." Colonel Teroth's request was an order.

 

As I pulled off my clothes, the rest stripped off their pants, then their boxer shorts, and my jaw dropped as I faced a room full of big, hard cocks. As I yanked down my pants, too, Teroth smacked me on the butt. "You see, Sarge, men like us have to keep ourselves a secret in the Army. We have passwords we'll teach you and secret meetings every so often. But what we're all about is sex, good, hot, healthy fucking!"

 

It was too much. I stood gaping, speechless.

 

"We even have military duties," Teroth went on. "Those of us who are tops are under orders to maintain that status." He smiled again. "I see from the expression on your face you don't understand. Think about it, Bailey. Once a man got your cherry, all you thought of from then on was getting fucked up the ass again." I blushed, and they laughed. "But fucking a man can be a problem--once he gets it in the ass, he never goes back. In other words, every man in our club who starts out as a top and finally gets fucked always turns into a bottom, and he won't go back. So we don't run out of studs to fuck us, only when we get a new top do we allow one of the older tops to get fucked"--he lowered his voice--"and find out how fabulous it is and become a bottom."

 

He reached out and grasped my cock, which twitched in his hand. "You, of course, are a new bottom, and that's fine--you're welcome to the club--but you make us an odd number, and we need another top, one of the men wearing the green berets."

 

I looked around at the men wearing berets.

 

"In the meantime, one or more of our special troops will have to do double duty." By then Teroth was stark naked. I remember that thick cock.

 

There was a little more conversation, a little more drinking, and a little more touchy-feely, but the secret meeting soon evolved into entirely sex:

 

I shook hands (and his cock) with Kowalski--who wore a green beret--and I watched with pounding heart as a man with a real Special Forces tattoo (a real Green Beret) crouched on the floor like a placid cow while Kowalski mounted him, guided his cock to the man's winking asshole, and thrust in.

 

Since I didn't know anybody else, I felt a little awkward, but a tall Black GI with a green beret and a cock that hung almost to his knees grabbed me. "You got a great physique, Sarge." I smiled, unsure how I should respond. My cock was certainly not as big as his.

 

He placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed down, and I got the hint. I dropped to my knees and took that big, black bazooka into my mouth. Then he pulled back and moved behind me. I felt him mount from behind, spreading my legs farther apart, and he rammed his hard cock up my ass. Ohh, yeahh!

 

God, he was big. Bigger than Parker. Bigger than Kowalski. Bigger than anything. The big stretch from the giant Black dong and the overwhelming idea of a secret man-sex society in the US Army pushed my button. My cock shot out my load before I even touched it.

 

That more or less described the rest of the afternoon, evening, and night. Every kind of sex I'd ever heard of took place in every room in that house. Fucking on the couches, fucking on the kitchen table, fucking bent over the washing machine, fucking on the ping-pong table, in the Jacuzzi, in the bathtub, balanced on the toilet, wrapped in the draperies, even--and I could not fucking believe it--crouching in the great chandelier hanging from the ballroom ceiling.

 

Colonel Teroth's orange punch turned out to be one part Sunny D and three parts vodka. Soon the whole fucking house was full of roaring drunks with hard cocks. I lost track of the times I rolled over, spread my legs and lifted them or spread them and crouched. About half of the dozen men were the Green Beret tops, but I knew some of them did extra duty because every time I recovered from the breeding of one man, another settled over me, and I guided so many cocks to my eager, aching asshole, I came to recognize them.

 

The big blond guy had a foreskin with a dark "beauty spot" right at the end. The Black guy's dick was hard to mistake. The short guy with the mustache had a cock with a bend to the left--he was the vicious one. His big, crooked dong, with a glans the size of a fist, spread my hole to epic size and punched a moan out of me with every thrust. He drove me crazy and had me begging for it. "Oh, yeah, oh, yeah! Yeah! There. There! Hit me there again! Oh, God, YEAH!"

 

I was in heaven! Bodies, cocks, and balls everywhere. I finally decided every fucking one of them was handsome! High & tight haircuts. Tanned bodies. Muscles--maybe not as big as mine--but male muscles!

 

I would spread my legs for them any day.

 

Countless times I felt like I'd been knocked up! Out of my mind, gripping my partner's ribs in a death hold, both our bodies slick with sweat, I looked up at his grin, that humorless, predator smile of lethal passion, and I could not rid myself of the honor I felt that a male was breeding me. I wished I could carry his child.

 

I loved the feel of big cocks in me, anxious to get the essence of the man's body, the milk of his balls, and feel it spreading out into my guts. I reached down every time, spread my cheeks even wider, and wriggled, taking the man even deeper, farther inside me.

 

Any man who kissed me I kissed back with enthusiasm, matching his tongue strokes with parries of my own, and any man who hissed, "You wanna be my bitch, Bailey?" got a hoarse, shouted answer:

 

"Yeah! Yeah! God, yeah, anywhere!"

 

Before the morning light, I sucked cock at least 30 times, and I was mounted by Green Berets at least as much. Finally I fell asleep along with two other men on the colonel's bed.

 

The party ended as dawn appeared in the east. Gradually the men faded away, there one minute, gone with their uniforms the next. When I finally shook the cobwebs away and looked up. Kowalski and Teroth were my companions on the bed. Ohmigod, the balloon and the pin!

 

But still in the spirit of the party, I crawled over to Kowalski and started sucking his cock. Then they both woke up. "Well, Master Sergeant Bailey, I take it the charges against Sergeant First Class Kowalski are dropped."

 

Oh, shit, oh, fuck, oh, hell!

 

Dead silence. Kowalski looked down at me with astonishment. All I managed to say was "Uh..."

 

The colonel continued. "Master Sergeant Bailey is an MP detective I assigned to you to verify an anonymous note we got accusing you of drug use."

 

Kowalski stared down at me. "Y'all--were investigating me?"

 

Double oh-shit. "Brent"--it was the first time I had ever used his first name. "I didn't--"

 

--"Y'all made love to me while planning to arrest me??"

 

"No! It wasn't like that at all! I knew right from the first you were innocent. I just had to focus in on who was framing you, and it turned out to be Parker."

 

"God damn, man, why didn't y'all just tell me?"

 

I didn't have an answer for that, but Teroth saved my ass: "Master Sergeant Bailey was ordered to investigate you; he was just doing his duty." He smiled. "And Kowalski, you passed with flying colors." He lowered his voice. "Which was great, because if you were dumped in the brig, the men's club would be one top short."

 

He smiled again. "Now shake hands, you men, and make friends. I've got a morning woodie, and I think you might be able to help out."

 

Praying he wouldn't hold a grudge, I smiled timidly at Kowalski and held out my hand.

 

To my great relief, he took my hand, squeezed it, then with the other he pushed my head back onto his cock.

 

But that wasn't yet the happy ending. I found out I was still a beginner at man-sex: Kowalski and Teroth taught me something else.

 

The colonel wanted to fuck me from behind. He stretched out on his back on white sheets, and I lay back on him, jostling my hips until his cock lined up with my asshole and he thrust inside. Ahh, yeah! Love that feeling!

 

I figured I would soon be sucking Kowalski's cock, but he didn't want a blowjob. He wanted a fuck.

 

Before I knew what was happening, he raised my legs, elevating my hips (almost pulling Teroth's dong out of me), and pressed his big rammer against my hole, struggling to get in on top of the colonel's!

 

I tried to struggle, but there wasn't much I could do. I was too horny and lust-dazed. I groaned loud and long as my poor, ravaged asshole stretched around TWO big, healthy cocks!

 

When they were both in--Kowalski to the balls and Teroth as far as he could reach--they started their lunges, and thanks to the copious amounts of slippery sperm lining my guts, they slid back and forth easily enough. My ass-ring was tighter than a banjo string, so I was probably tight as a virgin for the two of them, but since each man was after his own climax, they were not in synch.

 

The big dong on top, Kowalski's, jackhammered me in short, rapid thrusts. Teroth's dong underneath did slower, full-in-&-out lunges since he had to arch his hips up and down.

 

Incredible sensation. Multiple thrustings. Different rhythms. My asshole was stimulated in a thousand different ways, and it drove me crazy. The giant stretch was also a turn-on, taking me back to my first fucking, when my asshole hurt like a knife wound. But I had become such a slut, the sharp pain only added to the maelstrom of sensations like the zesty sting of Tabasco sauce on a thick, juicy sirloin steak.

 

The two men raised me to another plane. I had surrendered my masculinity to them the second I pulled down my pants for them, and I had released all my law-enforcement authority when the first cockhead pushed through my gate, but two horny studs fucking my ass at once tore away any shred of dignity, pride, or even the fear that I wasn't doing something inhuman.

 

I felt like an animal, a kept pet--no, worse than that, I was a slab of meat. A big, warm steak with a hole in it.

 

And that was the biggest turn-on in my life! Everything was upside-down. Ever since Parker taught me what I could do with my asshole and I'd begun to crave being fucked rather than fucking, everything was reversed! I used to get turned on by compliments and seductive little movements from women, but I found myself aroused almost to raving insanity by humiliation, insults, and being subjugated by men.

 

God help me, I loved it! I wallowed on Teroth's body like a whore in heat, panting and sweating, moaning and calling out for them to "get me deeper," "grind your cockhairs into my ass," and "god, oh god, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

 

When I got two cum-loads in me at once, it was like they sprayed my guts with gasoline! Their mixed jism was like napalm, searing me to ashes inside, and the sexual ecstasy that built on that agony turned me inside-out!

 

It was beyond orgasm! I saw my cock sputtering my own sperm in such power-shots that it hit Kowalski on his neck and chest, but the intense bliss was no longer centered in my cock--I felt it in every cell of my body! It was too much. I blacked out.

 

When I came to, I lay on the bed, and the colonel was slapping my face. "Wake up, c'mon, wake up, Sergeant!"

 

I groaned, opened my eyes, then rose up on my elbows. Both Kowalski and the colonel stood looking at me. They were dressed again. "How long was I out?"

 

"Damn, man, it was like 10 minutes. We were just about to call for an ambulance."

 

They stood talking while I pulled on my uniform, then they taught me the secret signs and passwords of the club--how I could identify other members of the club at other posts! The club--it had no name--had members on every post in the US Army!

 

Somehow I staggered back to my barracks, glad it was Sunday morning and I could spend the rest of the day in my bunk. My asshole felt like I could sit on a beer can and not notice.

 

I was truly a new man.

 

After that, life went on "normally" enough--I went back to being an MP--but there was one tiny change: my lunch in the mess hall was only the appetizer for Kowalski's daily load pumped into my guts from the other end as we hid in the woods behind the motor pool.

 

I retired from the Army the following year, but as a "veteran," I continued to attend the secret meetings, and I kept in touch with Kowalski nearly every day until he was finally transferred away. I never saw Parker again. Ultimately I bought a bar close to Fort Garrison, which became the "clubhouse" for the secret society.

 

And my life as I grew older? Had to buy myself two big, thick dildos, tape them together, and pleasure myself on the off-nights.

 

Link: https://web.archive.org/web/20170226070711/https://www.literotica.com/s/the-mp-bitch