Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2010 03:40:03 -0700
From: Rob Y <haverimseat4you@gmail.com>
Subject: 12 Days with Sgt Tate: Day Three, Morning

I wake up in the morning and see Sgt. Tate's facing the other way from me.
His huge traps finely covered in hair are directly in my line of sight.

I look over at the clock and see that it is 7:42 AM.  Sgt Tate is sleeping
in.  My dad had told me that in the Marines, Sgt Tate never slept in,
getting up sometimes at 3:30 AM.

It was about 3:30 AM last night that I got up to take a shit.  I didn't
want to wake him to ask.  I wanted to be courteous and respectful to him.

That courtesy wasn't extended to me in the other way; as little later, he
woke me up to drink his piss.  I don't recall the time.  He shook my
shoulder like he did the previous night.

"Yes Sir?"  This time instinctively I responded respectfully.

"I need to piss."

I move down to his cock but he stops me.

"No, you'll spill it in bed.  Go kneel in the bidet place."

I got out and went into the bathroom.  He came in, stuck his cock in my
mouth, pissed, pulled out, and left.

I was on my knees waiting for my instructions, when I heard, "Get back to
bed."

After crawling back to bed, he put his arm around me, pulled me into him,
and passed out.  I followed a little afterwards.

But now he is sleeping peacefully in front of me.  In bed he is wonderful
to me.  I wish I could spend the whole day here, but I know we have a long
drive in front of us.  I need to wake him up.

But how?  It needs to be done nicely; I don't want him to be startled and
become pissed off at me.  The act of waking him should be done with the
most amount of pleasure.  If he were facing my way, I would give him a
blowjob.  I read about boys doing that to their masters on the Internet.

In addition to his cock pointing the other way, I don't have permission to
touch his cock let alone stick it in my mouth.  I only have the ability to
massage his feet and eat his ass without explicit permission.

A rimjob!  I slowly crawl out of bed, making sure that I do not wake him.
I climb under the covers headfirst so that my mouth goes right to his crack
with my legs going up near his back.

I smell his crack.  It smells wonderful.  I stick my tongue out and start
to lick.  After three licks I taste his asshole.  After another three, my
tongue is fucking him.

His leg moves slightly.  I know he is awake.  I continue licking, swirling
my tongue back and forth.  I let it go soft and then firm it up.

He lets rip a nasty fart.  I just inhale.  Being under the covers, the
smell keeps longer.

The Sarge is right.  I should be able to eat his turds.  After all, I eat
his ass, I drink his piss, and I sniff his farts.  Why can't I take the
next step?  What is my problem?

Because shit is nasty.

I am pleasing him with my morning rim; I can hear him quietly moan.  Why do
I have so many issues with eating from him?

"Boy, you are making me proud.  Get up here and give your master a kiss."

He rolls on his back as I move up to kiss him.  I see his cock is rock
hard.  I don't know if it was from my rimjob or if it is his morning hard
on.

He holds me tight and doesn't dislodge his mouth from mine.  He pulls me on
top of him.  He is such a large guy that it is difficult for my legs to be
spread wide enough to go around his waist.

But then, this pose makes my asshole open and ready for fucking.  Sgt Tate
knows this and he pushes me down to impale myself.  I feel his dickhead on
my asshole.

"Boy, lube me up with your spit."

I reposition myself so that I can give him a blowjob.  I start licking him,
but then I realize that if I am going to lube him with my spit, I need to
apply a lot of spit.  After a minute or two of slobbering on his cock, he
says "Bitch, get on.  I want you to sit directly on my cock.  Don't try to
ease it in, sit right to the base."

I climb on top of him and impale myself.  I struggle a little, but still
manage to take him to the base.

"Ride!"  It was a command.  I have no idea how to ride.  So I lift and
impale myself repeatedly.  He has his arms above his head with his eyes
closed.

"Keep bouncing, but tighten your asshole at the same time."

I clamp down.

"That's it."

He reaches down and grabs my hips.  Now he is in control of the fucking.
He pulls me down on top of him.  My weight slams on his cock and his groin
area.  The bed bounces back upward.  This sets up for the next impalement.
Sarge makes a face of ecstasy.

"I'm gonna cum bitch!  I'm gonna.  Get ready!"  I intensify my slam
downwards.  "FUCK!"  He pulls me down onto his groin and keeps me deeply
impaled.  His body spasms.

I feel his cock pulsing.

"Damn boy!  You sure know how to wake up your master."

"Thank you Sir."

"Hold still.  I got to piss."

I don't move.  A low groan comes from his mouth as I start to feel the
bloat from his piss going into me.

"Now I want you to clamp down as you climb off of me.  If you leak on the
bed, I will beat you senselessly."

I start pulling up and clenching at the same time.  Then his cock head pops
out and I feel a drop or two come out.  Jumping off the bed will make sure
that nothing leaks on it.

I look back at his dick.  There isn't much shit on it, unlike last night.
That's probably because I used the toilet in the middle of the night.  Oh
fuck!  I didn't ask permission.  I hope he doesn't notice.

I lunge forward to clean off his dick.  He pats me on the head.  His dick
tastes wonderfully like piss.

"Ok.  Time to clean up.  Let's take a shower."

He climbs out of bed, and after I jump out of bed, he pushes me into his
bathroom.

I really need to let go.  Sgt Tate goes to a cabinet to take out a small
bucket and places it in the middle of the large bathroom.

"Empty yourself in here.  You don't get to use the toilet."

I walk to the bucket.  I look at the small bucket.  Sgt Tate says, "Isn't
it amazing that you went from having a dirty hole last night to not having
one this morning?"  After pausing for five seconds, he adds, "Hurry it up
and don't make a mess.  Join me in the shower."

Squatting over the bucket is difficult enough, but to do it without making
a mess is quite the challenge.  But I managed to do it by planting my ass
into the bucket.  It feels like I am jammed into it.

I let the piss, shit, and cum explode out of my ass.  I bare down, pushing
out as much shit as possible.

Out of the corner of my eye, Sgt. Tate slowly strokes his cock looking at
me.  Upon glancing over at him, he smiles and calls me over with his finger
to follow him into the shower.

It is awkward the positions I get into trying to get out of the bucket, but
I do.

"Leave that there and get that shitty ass in here."

Walking in the shower, I am amazed at how big it is and how normal Sgt Tate
looks in it.  There are four removable nozzle heads-two of which are
attached to rain showerheads, and the other two have hoses like the rain
showerheads but no showerhead.  It's as if they are waiting for head to be
installed.

Sgt Tate stands solid under the main showerhead, illuminated by the
recessed light directly overhead.  The water pours over his face down his
muscular torso pulling his body hair downward into perfectly symmetry.  His
cock, rigid and perpendicular, is the most illuminated part of his anatomy.
His eyes follow me in.  While I am the one walking to him, he is the one
that is making an entrance to me.

There is not one single picture on the internet I have ever come across
that is half as good as what I see now.

"Sir?"

"Yeah, boy?"

"I just have to say that you are the most incredibly sexy man I have ever
seen."

After turning his head slightly, the smallest crescent of teeth develops
under that perfect manicured moustache.  A gentle nod to the side calls me
over.  I approach and share his water stream.

I look up to him.  Nine inches difference in height is like nine yards.
Intimidation doesn't even begin to describe my feelings towards him.  I
have two extreme feelings at this moment.  I trust this man, feeling a
sense of security like I have never felt before, not even my dad.  Shit, my
dad pales to this man.  Terror is the other feeling.  I never know when
he's going to treat me like shit, degrade me, or beat me.

While looking up to him, I did not notice that he reached for the bar of
soap.  I felt him hand the soap to me.

"Lather up and wash my cock."

Without taking my gaze away from him I do just that.  He just came in my
ass not ten minutes ago and he is hard again.  I have heard that men lose
their ability to recover quickly after an orgasm, but Sgt Tate seems to be
the anomaly.

This is the first time I feel his cock focusing on its form.  It has many
veins.  His cockhead is enormous.  It is amazing that this has been up my
ass and down my throat.  My finger rubs back and forth over his piss slit.

Sarge flinches.

With both hands he holds my head.  A deep passionate kiss lands on my
mouth.  I wrap my arms around his neck.  There's no effort on his part to
pick me up.  My legs wrap around his torso.

After shifting my weight around to find the right position, I feel his cock
head at my ass.  My lather job allows his cock to slide in.  It feels
wonderful.  Gravity slams me down on his cock while his overly muscular
arms pick me up.

Being slammed onto his cock in this position is frightening.  I feel like I
am going to fall on the floor, or snap his cock off.  His arms keep me safe
while I am flopping around.  The water from the shower intensifies my
senses.

He starts fucking harder.  His hands grab each ass cheek, firm and in
control.

He tenses up, convulsing throughout his body including his supporting arms.

Yet another load lands deep up in me.

I drop to my knees to take his cock into my mouth.  Cleaning up is getting
easier to do.  The stigma of going down on a cock that was up my ass has
really gone away.

Sgt Tate looks for the soap.  It's on the floor behind him.  He bends over.
Like every prison shower scene cliche, I descend on his ass.  Instead of
shoving my cock in him, I plant my tongue deep in his ass.

"Oh did I drop the soap again?"  He laughs to himself.

After a few licks, he straightens up.  "Bitch we need to get going.  But
first, you need to wash me."  Handing me the soap and a washrag, he stands
there.

The lathering process allows me to touch every inch of his body.  I am in
heaven.  After rinsing him off, he hugs me tight.

"Thank you Sir."

"Atta boy." He whispers.

"I love you Sir."  WHAT?  Did I just blurt out that I love him?  Why on
earth would I say that?  Now?  I have only been here two days.

He squeezes me.  We connect our eyes.  Those beautiful steel eyes.  He
kisses me on the forehead, and whispers in my ear, "See if you feel the
same way after you eat my shit."

He let me go.  "Clean yourself up."  Walking away he grabbed a towel from
the rack.

Why did I have to say that?  Why must I fuck things up?  I don't even know
if I do love the man.  How could I love a man who tells me in one of the
tenderest moments that I'm going to eat his shit?

I finish my shower consumed by thought.

I walk into the kitchen to see Sgt Tate sitting at the table having
scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and coffee.  I look around and don't see my
plate.  He didn't make me any breakfast.  I guess I will make my own.

"Sir?"

"No, I didn't forget you shithead.  You are on a liquid diet today.  I made
you a protein shake."

He handed me a tall drinking glass that I overlooked when I surveyed Sgt
Tate's breakfast.

I take the glass and look in it.  Oh no.  The contents of the bucket fill
the glass.  When I left the bathroom, I don't recall seeing the bucket on
the floor.  He can't . . . yes he can, and he is.

"Drink up.  It's good to the last drop!"

Fuck.  I wish I wouldn't have to do these disgusting things.  I look in the
glass and it dawns on me, this is his piss, which I love-and his cum too,
and few other things that I would clean off his cock.  I can do this.

I chug it down.

"Good boy!"

I smile.  He pats me on the back.

"I knew that you would hesitate before drinking.  So this time you can do
it without pausing."  He reaches over to the counter.  There is another
glass.  "This one has more solid stuff that settled to the bottom of the
bucket."

He hands me the glass.  I take it and down it.  I don't even think about
it.  I just do it.

"That's for getting up in the middle of the night and taking a shit without
my permission."  Sarge takes his empty plate to the sink.

Fuck, I've been found out.

"You thought you would be sneaky.  Don't fuckin' lie to me boy.  You will
be severely punished if you do that again.  I felt you get out of bed."

My eyes drop to the floor.

"Since you finished your breakfast, we still haven't completed your
contract from last night.  So get up and assume the position."

He's going to fuck me again?  Damn! This man has the stamina.

Moving to the table, I see my contract that I wrote from last night.  Next
to it is a blank sheet of paper

I bend over and Sgt Tate stands by my side.

"Since you were too lazy to finish that lat night, we can start fresh
today."

After pushing the blank page in front of me, he moves out of sight behind
me.

"Boy, if there is one thing you need to focus on is not looking back.
Whatever you do, don't turn your head.  Just focus on that piece of paper.
You are not to speak a single word, not even 'Sir' until I allow you to.  I
want you to copy everything from the first page to the second page.  Do not
change one single word.  Begin."

What?  He wants me to . . . WHACK!  Pain shoots across both cheeks.  WHACK!
I am clearly wrong about the fucking.  WHACK!

"Um, you might want to start writing."  WHACK!  "I could do this all day."

The pen slipped out of my hand.  WHACK!

With a firm grab, I write as fast as I can.  Sgt Tate whacks my ass
repeatedly.  I don't know how many I took.

When I finish, I don't know how to let him know.  I set the pen down.

"You done boy?"

"Yes Sir."

"Read that last sentence to me."

"'I will eat his shit.'"

"Cross off the word 'will' and replace it with 'must'."  I do.  "Repeat
it."

"I must eat his shit."

WHACK!  "I can't hear you!"

"I MUST EAT HIS SHIT!"

WHACK!  "I don't like 'his'.  Replace it with 'Sgt. Tate'"

I quickly replace the words.

WHACK!  "That page looks like you took a dump on it.  Copy it over!"

What?  WHACK!  I don't even think.  I write.  I get whipped.  I write some
more.

The writing is what I focus on.  Not the beating.  I get to the end and put
down my pen.

"You done again boy?  Read me that last sentence."

"I must eat Sgt. Tate's shit."

"Louder."

"I MUST EAT SGT. TATE'S SHIT!"

"Funny, I told you to replace it with 'Sgt. Tate' not 'Sgt. Tate's'.  I
don't like apostrophes."

I can't believe this.  Who hates punctuation?

I place my left hand right next to the pile of blank sheets ready to take a
clean sheet when he gives the order."

Silence.  I do not hear anything.  Not his belt flying through the air.
Not the sound of his fist pounding his dick.  Not even my cries.

"Damn boy!  Looks like you are waiting for me to say something.  Aren't you
boy?"

"Yes Sir."

"What are you expecting me to say?"

"'Rewrite it.' Sir."

"Rewrite it?  What and excellent idea!  Since you said it, why don't you
just do that?"

Oh no.  I start rewriting it.  But Sgt Tate doesn't hit me.  It's quiet.  I
don't stop writing to figure it out.  This time I have it written out in no
time.

"Good boy.  You aren't thinking; you are just following orders.  Throw the
first and the third one away.  I'll take the one with the apostrophe.  Now
get your ass up, it's time to work out."

I get up.  My ass is sore.  I rub and feel the heat.  It is swollen.  There
are bumps, welts actually.

"You'll live.  Now get that welted ass downstairs."

We both go downstairs.  The gym is huge.  He easily has ten stations.  A
whole set of weights are in front of a wall of mirrors.

"When was the last time you worked out?"

"I never have Sir."

"You mean your dad never worked out with you?"  He didn't wait for the
answer.  "Unforgivable.  Well today faggot, you will work out with me.  I
wish I had the proper amount of time, but we don't.  So get on the
treadmill."

I walk over to it.  Strangely my cock is half hard.  I get on.  Sarge turns
it on.  He has it set to give me a jog.  My cock flops around.

We both look at it, and smile at the same time.  He takes his place working
on his biceps, watching every move I make.

After five minutes I get out of breath.  I step aside.

"Faggot, no one told you to stop.  Get back."

I get back on without thinking.  Instinct pulls me back to jogging.  If
this were my dad, I would have told him to fuck off.  If this were anyone
else, I wouldn't have even have attempted it.

I now am struggling to breathe.  After a small stumble, I quickly regain
composure.

"Stop!"  I stop on the treadmill instinctively.  Since it is still moving,
I get thrown behind it.

Sgt Tate gets up from his third machine to come over to me.  He offers me a
hand.

"You need to take a shower before we go.  You can use the one in the
playroom."

He walks me over to a door by the free weights.  As I enter he turns on the
lights.

It is a room half the size of the gym.  I see the sawhorse from the video.
There are two padded tables.  A giant wooden X leans up against a wall.
There are some large unusually shaped furniture pieces, but not much else
is in here.

In the far corner there is an open bathroom.  A tiny sink sits next to a
seatless toilet.  There is an empty toilet paper roll on the wall.  In the
corner, on the other side of the sink is a shower without walls.  It has a
standard head on it except that where it came out of the wall another one
of those headless shower hoses, just a six-inch metal tube on the end.  In
the floor is a hole twice the size of a shower drain.

"I just had this room redone two months ago.  I haven't had the opportunity
to stock it up once again.  The shower is over there.  You might as well
douche out your cunt."

"Sir?"

"I said clean out your cunt.  You do know how to do that?  Probably not.
Follow me."

He takes me to the shower.  Grabbing the headless hose in one hand he turns
on the water.

"When I tell you to clean out your cunt, you are going to do the following.
Turn on the water and direct it through this hose.  Now don't use full
strength for the water.  Like this."  Water comes out of the tip of the
hose.  It isn't a strong flow, more of a firm trickle.  "Then you shove
this up your cunt.  Like this."

He grabs me, spins me around, and shoves the nozzle up my ass.

"Now this is going to fill you up.  Here, hold the hose."  I take the hose
from him.  "When you get really full, shit out the water without letting
the nozzle plop out.  Aim the water for that drain.  You'll get full again.
Shit it out too.  Keep this up until you shit comes out clear.  When that
does, do one more flush.  Then pull the hose out of the cunt and hose down
the area.  The drain there is flushable, so when everything goes in there,
give it a flush.  The switch is over there."

I am now full.  I start to squirt.

"Wait until I leave first."  He starts walking back towards the gym.
"After you clean out the cunt, wash the rest of yourself up and meet me in
the gym."

I give myself five or six flushes before I start squirting out clear
liquids.  I stop douching and wash the rest of me free of the sweat.

I walk into the gym.  Sarge is not there.  I hear him upstairs in a
different part of the lodge.

I find him in his office, smoking a cigar.  Sarge is now clothed.  I got
used to seeing him naked for a day and a half.

The room is quite large.  It contains his office, a library, a fireplace,
and a formal seating area.  It isn't shaped like a normal rectangular room.
It is about 25 feet long and about 12 feet wide at the window but 20 feet
wide on the opposite side, the one with the door.

The furniture is very masculine, consisting of a desk area and a seating
area.  Not surprisingly, everything is in scarlet and gold.  I would
recognize the colors of the US Marines anywhere.  This man is a true
Marine.  Besides the colors, he has a Marine flag and a US flag on poles on
opposite sides of a floor to ceiling window that overlooks his lake.  It
has a clear view of the trees where I gave Sgt Tate his much-needed head.
In front of the window about ten feet away is a sitting area.  Rich leather
chairs and sofa are positioned for conversation, or for looking out at the
lake.

Along the sidewall on the right, adjacent to the window he has a large
inactive fireplace.  The hearth extends past the seating area.  Next to it
is a showcase full of Marine items, mostly guns.  Past the display is his
desk.

When I walk into the room, his desk is hard to miss being immediately on
the right.  It is situated at an angle facing both the window at the
opposite end of the room and a rather large map of the world.  The front of
his solid wooden desk has a carving of the Marine emblem.

A bookshelf containing a small library is between the desk and the door.
Most of the books are military in nature.

My attention, however, is ultimately drawn to the left, towards that floor
to ceiling map covering the wall.  Though accurate, the design of it is
antique in nature with lots of shades of gold used and old world
calligraphy.  There are scarlet and gold pushpins in various points on the
map.  These are not the standard size pushpin; they stick out about an inch
and half with a solid sphere as the head.  The scarlet ones have tiny
Marine emblems on them.  The gold has the tiny words "Semper Fidelis" on
them in Scarlet.

The level of detail in this room is quite fascinating, especially the map.
For the first time since I came, I am thoroughly intrigued by Sgt Tate's
lodge.

"What are the pins for?"

"They represent where around the world my Men are. And while I see you are
impressed, . . ."

I don't see it coming, but Sarge smacks me hard across the face.  I lose my
balance.  "You do need to mind your place."  I forget to ask permission to
speak.  I seem to have let my guard down.  I look at him with an I'm-sorry
face.  "Just for this, you are free to speak."

"Sorry Sir.  What's the difference between the scarlet and gold pins?"

"None, I didn't want to differentiate the men into two categories.  I want
the scarlet and gold to be unified and represented around the world."

I notice that both Iraq and Afghanistan have numerous pins.

He stands behind me and to the side.  His left hand rests on my shoulder.
I am in awe of this map.

"This is an impressive room Sir."

"Yes, it is my favorite room.  I will come in here to have a cigar, do some
work, or enjoy my solitude.  I have entertained in this room.  Generals
have sat over there on those chairs.  I have fucked many in front of that
window.  Hell, generals have fucked whores over there.  It feels
magnificent to see God's creations from up here while fucking a cunt.  It's
one of my favorite things to do."

I don't know if he means a woman's cunt or a boy's hole.

"We don't have time to do that now, and my dick couldn't respond so quickly
after dumping two loads, but I have something I need for you to practice."

My fingers run over the map.

"There will be more time for the map later, son."

I get flustered.  He calls me "son".  The moment feels wonderful.  He
didn't use one of the derogatory names or even "boy" but "son".

My dad calls me that, and yet it is with Sgt Tate that the moment in front
of the map that I will remember.

I follow him over to a large leather sofa.  He sits and points between his
legs.  I kneel as if I am going to blow him.

"No bitch.  Move back a bit."  So much for the "son" moment.  "Something
tells me that you have never licked boots.  Is that right?"

"No Sir."  I have seen it on a number of sites including the one Sarge was
looking at yesterday when he squashed my cock into the floor.

"Well you are about to be taught how to lick the boots of a United States
Marine."

He points to his size 17 foot.  My mouth moves down to his right boot.

"Use a firm tongue.  I need to feel it on the inside.  Every square inch
needs to be covered."  He kicks back and continues to smoke the cigar and
looks out the window.  "Yeah faggot.  Make love to those boots."  This
isn't an instruction as it is his way of enjoying the moment.  After
fifteen minutes on one boot, I move to the other.  He starts grabbing and
rubbing his crotch.

I look up at him looking down at me.  His chin rests in his chest hair.
His left hand holds the cigar, and the right holds his crotch.

"Cunt, I should keep you down there all the time."

I keep licking.  He plants the sole directly on my face.  "Now the final
piece."

Gross.  But, I lick.  It tastes foul, a taste like something rotten.  When
I move to the other sole, I see that he has take out his cock.  He casually
jacks it.

As I lick the second sole, he taps my face with it.  I only spend a half
the amount of time on the second one when he pulls his foot away.

"Get your faggot mouth over here, and give me some head."  I take his
semi-erect cock in my mouth.  "Take it slow.  I'm not looking to cum here.
I just want to feel good while I finish my cigar."

It fits perfectly in my mouth.  I could definitely tell that he has worked
out recently.  It is very sweaty.

He plays with his nipples, and his head tipped back, a stub of the cigar in
his mouth.

After a few moments, he takes the cigar out of his mouth to look at it.
"We should get going."

Where are we going?  I don't dare ask, but there is nothing around for
miles and I have a mild curiosity.

We get up.  He walks over to the cabinet and retrieves his dog tags.  I
have never seen them on him before, which surprises me.  I wonder why he
hasn't worn them.  He puts them in his pocket.

"Get us some bottled water and a light snack ready."

I go into the kitchen and prepare the snack, a couple of sandwiches.

He sets down his duffle bag on the dining room table.  He reaches into the
pocket of his duffle and pulls out some keys.

"Go into your old room and bring out one pair of socks, your shoes, and an
ID.  Do not touch another thing."

Walking into my old room feels kind of weird.  I see my dad's hand-me-down
jacket, and his Marine T-shirt he left behind.  These untouchable things
are mere memories of me on the other side.

I miss the man, my dad.  I really do.  But, I can't think of that.

I get the socks and shoes.  Reaching into my wallet I pull out my rubber I
swore I would use when I got fucked for the first time.  That gets tossed
away.

I grab my ID and head back to Sgt Tate.  "Put you socks and shoes on."  I
begin to put them on.  "Did you touch anything you weren't supposed to?"

"Yes Sir.  There was a condom in my wallet that I was saving for when I
lost my virginity."

Sgt Tate chuckles, "What did you do with it?"

"I tossed it away."

"Good boy.  It didn't seem to do you any good."

I put my socks and shoes on, at the same time Sarge takes off his pants.
His ass stares at me in the face.  I want to lick it.

He folds his pants and places it in his duffle.  When his hand comes out,
it has a jockstrap.  I love jockstraps.  I used to get hardons at school
thinking about the other boys I would see in the locker room.

Sgt Tate puts his on, framing his meaty hairy ass.  He bends over to look
in his duffle.  The ass cheeks open up and I can see his hole.

I race over to him, drop to my knees, and stick my tongue in there.

He chuckles.  "Someone's hungry.  Boy, we should get going."  There is a
long pause where I do not stop rimming.  "But a few minutes more of this
won't hurt anybody."

His ass is beautiful.  I love tasting it.  My thoughts go briefly to his
insistence of me eating his shit.  I don't know how I am going to be able
to do it.  I put it out of my mind and focus on the asshole my tongue is
licking.

"Ok let's get going."

He puts on cotton running shorts freshly claimed out of the duffle, but
unlike the ones he wore on the first night, these are tight.  They show off
his legs, ass, and crotch.  A Marine T-shirt covers his mound of a crotch.
"These are better for driving in."

He grabs his keys and the duffle.  "You ready?"

I am wearing socks and shoes and holding my ID.  "Sir?"  I need to ask him
about my clothes or lack thereof.

Without looking back he shouts, "You will wear what I tell you to wear."  I
smile.  He knows what I am thinking.

I go to grab the snacks and water.  In the bag I see that he has placed my
signed contract with him.

I head out.  Sgt Tate is loading up his truck.  Just like his body, his
lodge, his bed, his bathroom, his feet, and his cock, especially his cock,
his truck is bigger than anyone else's.  The extended cab can fit three men
easily.  Even with the extended cab and the giant toolbox, there is more
room in the bed than my dad's pickup.

Standing next to the dually truck, he looks normal in size, or rather the
truck looks normal in size next to him.

Just like Sgt Tate, the truck is sexy; both are masculine and quite
refined.  The paint is solid black.  With the windows tinted, it looks like
the windows are an extension of the paneling.  He has personalized license
plates: SDI TATE for Senior Drill Instructor Tate.

"Get in bitch."  I walk around to the other side.  My cock is flopping
around.  This being naked is starting to feeling natural.

I open the passenger door, and I need a boost just to get in.  After two or
three tries, I figure out how to climb in.  Everything is new.  The new car
smell fills the cab.  The fact that the windows are tinted will allow me to
be naked in the front without too much notice.

Sgt Tate opens the door and climbs in with no trouble.  His body fills up
the driver's side.

"I just got this F-450 King Ranch two weeks ago.  It is one of the few
trucks that really fits my size."  His arms extend to the navigation
system, the dome light controls, and the glove box without really
contorting his body.  "I can reach all the important buttons."

His right hand finds my left nipple.  He squeezes hard and then digs in his
thumbnail.  I scream as I feel condensed pain like I have never felt.

"Like this one."  His hand tries to reach my right nipple, but while he can
reach it with his fingertips, any grabbing would be a struggle.  I lean
into him.

He grabs it, and like the other one I scream.

"That's two."

His hand reaches down to my balls without any trouble in distance.  I
scream as he squeezes hard.

"That's three."

His hand backhands me on my left side.  That hurts too.

"Good.  All the important things are within arm's reach.  Now it's time to
check out the amenities."

He grabs me by the hair at the back of my head, pulling me over to his
side.  I come up off my seat.  My head is jammed into his crotch.  The
center console digs into my side.  It is quite uncomfortable.

He pulls his cock out over the top of his shorts.  I take his cockhead into
my mouth.

His right hand runs down my spine.  Two fingers are jammed into my hole.

"Well that's convenient!  Too bad that middle console is there.  You would
have been able to give me a decent blowjob while on the road.  I guess it
will have to work for piss drinking.  Sit back down."

I sit back down in my seat.  His fingers that were in my ass are now in my
mouth.

"Oh, and if we should stop, I have a pair of shorts for you."

He pulls his fingers from my mouth to reach back to the back seat.  He
hands me a pair of his shorts.  They haven't seen a washing machine in a
while.

Sarge starts up the truck.  "You will slip them on whenever I tell you."
We start to pull away.

"Yes Sir!"

I look at the piss stains in the front.

He points inside.  "And just to let you know, the skid marks go in back."