* This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or living persons is coincidental. Personal experiences – images, events, memories, words – flavor my writing, and while elements of this story may be based in fact, the characters are entirely fictional.
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TAMED JOCK GOES CRAZY
By Colton Aalto
CHAPTER 17 - 2:00 P.M. - DJ
Normally we had two baseball games on Saturdays during the summer, but with the season ending there was only the final game we played in the morning. I had a rare Saturday afternoon to myself. I walked back to the baseball fields after the wild restroom scene with Quyen and decided to have lunch while watching a couple innings of the championship game. It had already started on a field next to the one we'd played on and I wanted to see Jason Palmer pitch. I also wanted to enjoy the tingling in my ass from spending an hour in the john at the gas station taking cock, not mention savoring the special dick sauce Quyen spread on my sandwich.
Palmer was the fire balling pitcher that our high school baseball team beat in the first game of the state playoffs. Back then guys said he would go in the first round of the professional baseball draft in early June and sure enough he did. He rejected a signing bonus that was supposedly more than $4 million and instead opted to play college ball. Dude was eighteen years old and he'd already passed up more money than most guys make their entire life. Word was he planned to stay in college for at least a year, maybe more, before submitting to the drudgery of the minor leagues. Baring a career-ending injury, the money would still be there when he made the jump to the pros. Perhaps he wanted to swap a couple of years of painful minor league duty for some wild college days.
The ace pitcher would be attending my college and we'd be teammates together on the baseball team. I was wary about how he'd react given the embarrassing stunt we pulled after our team beat him in the high school baseball playoffs. It was pathetic, no other way to characterize it.
I was responsible. I'd hatched the plot, for the whole team to strip off our shirts if we won, like they do in soccer. Tony jumped on the bandwagon and pushed it, too. My motivating factor was my desire to show off my abs, which, looking back, was totally exhibitionist and sexual. The appeal for Tony was similar: showing off his big guns. It was a team decision, although I pushed it the hardest. We'd gotten photographed during the celebration and two of the pictures appeared on the front pages of the sports section in the city paper. One was a team shot and the other a closeup of me. It was an awesome photo. I looked damned good. Maybe my best picture ever. My ripped abs and happy smile were captured permanently on film.
The problem was that the whole thing was out of line with baseball tradition. Way out of line. Even our coach was pissed, and it was a miracle we won the state baseball title because we didn't catch any breaks from the umpires after that.
I held out a faint hope Palmer would forget the stunt by the fall when we started college, but there was a fat chance of that happening. His glare from the dugout left little doubt that he'd remember for a long time. I fully expected he'd bean me when we played during summer ball, and sure enough he did. First pitch of the game. For two weeks I had a nasty bruise to show for it. When college started, I'd have to apologize a hundred different ways and hope that he was the forgiving type.
Not many people were in the stands but, being in full cock-whore mode, I scanned the crowd before I sat down, figuring I might as well sit where I could stare at a hot dude while eating and watching the game. Baseball offers plenty of opportunities for people watching. Easy to gaze at the crowd between innings or between pitches.
I found the right man in no time. A hot guy in a dress military uniform. He looked like he walked off a recruiting poster. He was alone, sitting toward the top of the stands behind Palmer's dugout. Damn, he was scorching hot. Sure I would rather that he'd been shirtless – hell, naked – but if he had to wear clothes, the uniform was perfect. He was handsome enough that I'd be perfectly happy admiring the uniform, staring at his face and fantasizing about his body.
I was still barefoot after dashing to the gas station to meet Quyen, not to mention sweaty and cum covered, so I found a perch that wasn't too close to anyone but close enough to the military stud so that I could ogle him while pretending to eat and watch the game. I might not have detected the flavor of fresh cum in the sandwich Quyen made me if he hadn't mentioned it, but knowing what I was eating I recognized the distinctive taste of newly-spurted Vietnamese boy juice. Best sandwich I'd ever eaten. I sent Quyen a selfie of my tongue hanging out and the text, "BEST. FOOD. EVER." I sent a follow up saying, "Holes R urs 4ever."
I'd already hosted eleven stiff shafts in my whore hole and thanks to Cal's multiple orgasms and Quyen's double dump, I'd taken fifteen loads – not to mention the six I'd slurped down, seven if you counted the one on Quyen's sandwich. However, gazing at the uniformed stud sitting two rows below me in the stands, I was horny as hell. I get like that sometimes. A round of sex doesn't satisfy me; rather it makes me even more interested. Most guys lose interest after getting their rocks off, but sometimes I'm the opposite. That day I was. Go figure. Maybe it was because it was the end of summer and it was the last day I'd be getting fucked before being a college student.
The dude was around thirty, tall with a damn nice body. His square jaw was perfect for his uniform. He looked like he could be on his way to film a TV advertisement for the Marines. I couldn't keep my eyes off him.
It was one of the cooler days of the summer but still hot enough that shortly after I sat down the stud pulled off his jacket. His chest and arms filled his white shirt perfectly, confirming my initial read that he was ripped. If I wasn't hooked before, I was now.
I constructed an elaborate fantasy in my mind about being stuck in a foxhole with him. His cum would build up until he was sex crazed and he'd would attack me, fucking my mouth and ass repeatedly until his balls were drained. Then he would close his big, veiny hand around my neck and announce that I was permanently assigned to his brigade and he'd be using my holes morning and night for the duration.
How stupid was that? Who wants to be in a foxhole, with or without a sexy Marine? Obviously, I'd never been in one.
That didn't stop me from letting my fantasy get crazier – now I was simultaneously servicing the stud and his twin brother who was also in the military. I sorta zoned out, unintentionally abandoning any subtlety as I gawked at him.
It wasn't surprising that he caught me staring. I felt my face flush but if he was irritated, he didn't show it. Maybe he was so used to people looking at him that it wasn't a big deal. He was that handsome.
Recovering from my embarrassment, I took the opportunity to ask, "So, uh, how is Palmer pitching?" The fact that it was the fourth inning and the other team was scoreless pretty much answered my question, but I was hoping to strike up a conversation and have an excuse to continue to ogle the hunk.
He gave me a slight smile that might have been a smirk or something friendlier. I couldn't tell. "He's in his usual zone. He's only given up two hits – an infield single and a blooper. He's experimenting with a slider and a changeup, but he knows that if he needs a strikeout, nobody can touch his fastball."
The uniformed stud knew baseball. If he hadn't been in the military, I would have assumed he was a coach or something like that. An amazingly hot coach.
Looking at my baseball pants he said, "I see you play ball. You ever face Jason?"
I nodded. "Yeah, a couple of games this summer and one in the spring. He's pretty intimidating."
The Marine smiled like I was just another kid who Palmer had blown away. That wasn't the case, although I ascribed my good fortune against him more to dumb luck than skill. I'd almost single-handedly won our high school game in spring by hitting a rare home run off him – rare for me to hit one and rare for him to give up one – en route to a cycle. I'd been in a weird zone that day; no other explanation. I finished the cycle by hitting a triple in the last inning and then stole home when Tony struck out but the catcher had to throw to first to get him after dropping the third strike. Coupled with two spectacular plays in the field, I'd had the game of a lifetime. I probably wouldn't have gotten my college baseball scholarship without that performance.
I wanted to extend the conversation, so I asked, "You watch him pitch a lot?"
"I taught him to pitch. He's my younger brother."
What? The two men looked nothing alike. Palmer's shoulder-length hair was halfway between blond and brown and contrasted starkly with the Marine's jet black, military buzz cut. The pitcher had pale skin prone to freckles and moles while the Marine had luminous, light brown skin. He could have been the Creole cousin of Rai, the sexy dreamboat who'd fucked me by his pool earlier in the summer. The two studs had the same smooth, richly-colored caramel skin that glistened in the sunlight.
The most that could be said was that Palmer and the Marine had the same frame, assuming you added 25 pounds of lean muscle to Palmer's slenderer version. The stud pitcher was the same height as Lang and was more muscular, but still couldn't match the military man's ripped body.
As if answering my unspoken question, the man added, "Half-brother. Our dad married five times. My mama was black – obviously – while Jason's mom is German. The old man was something else. He enlisted in the Marines just before World War II ended even though he was underage, and he married the first time while he was stationed in Germany. One thing never changed for him. He married each wife when she was a teenager and fathered a baby boy in the first year. His first son was born in 1946 and he had a son in every decade between then and when Jason was born."
I was having trouble with the idea that Palmer's dad fought in World War II. I had a great-grandfather who was in the war but he died years before I was born. Not only that, if my math was correct, Palmer's oldest half-brother would have been 54 years older. In other words, easily old enough to be his grandfather, even his great-grandfather.
"Each of us inherited dad's lanky frame, long jawline, pointed nose, green eyes and smirking mouth." Looking closer at the Marine, perhaps he shared those features with Palmer. He gave me a slight, devilish smile and added, "We also inherited his big freaking cock and over juiced balls."
I lurched from puzzlement over Palmer's father and array of half-brothers to unbridled lust at what was in the Marine's pants. He had me when I first spotted him in the stands, but his last comment left me speechless and starving for it. I couldn't resist scoping out his bulge, which indeed looked promising.
"By the time Jason was born, dad was in his early seventies. He was too old to be much of a father and died when Jason was in grade school. That's why I ended up teaching him to pitch. I was stationed nearby while he was growing up, so I became something of a surrogate father. I taught him to throw hard and fuck hard."
"Wow," I mumbled. I don't know if my comment was due to the story about Palmer's dad or the visual of the Marine having a big freaking cock and over juiced balls. Oh, and fucking hard.
Okay, it was totally my fascination with the dude's equipment.
"I'm on duty – hence the dress uniform – but I had a short break so I thought I'd catch a few innings. He's done a nice job with his cutter since the last time I saw him. Watch this next pitch, I'm guessing he'll bring it."
I reluctantly focused on the baseball game, my mind still whirling from the stud's story. Palmer was an impressive pitcher, with an unusual throwing motion that reminded me of Tim Lincecum. As a kid I'd watched Lincecum win back-to-back Cy Young awards as the best pitcher in the National League in 2008 and 2009. Maybe Palmer reminded me of him because they both had long hair. When I faced him earlier in the summer, Palmer's hung over his ears and reached his shoulders but today it was tied into a tight pony tail.
He threw a couple more pitches and I could tell they were juiced. Most high school pitchers have a single pitch – a fast ball. Palmer had a repertoire of fast ball, slider, curve ball, change up and apparently a cutter. The new cutter was likely the pitch that I'd been unable to hit the last time we played. I had considerably less success against him in our two games during the summer than I'd enjoyed in the spring. It's hard not to go downhill from a cycle – 4 for 4, with a home run, a triple, a double and a single.
Palmer struck out the man he was facing and as the next batter came up, the stud Marine looked at me sharply. He gave me a slight frown, like something suddenly occurred to him, and pulled out his iPhone. After a minute he said, "I thought you looked familiar. You're Tyler, aren't you?" He showed me his iPhone. On it was the newspaper photo of our shirtless celebration after we beat Palmer in the spring. I felt my face flush.
"Um, yeah, I'm really sorry about that. It was a dumbass thing to do."
I was prepared for the worst but relieved when he laughed. "Yeah, it was, but it was probably the best thing that could have happened to Jason. It's been a great motivating factor for him. He's a better pitcher because of it. Don't tell him I said that. He's still pissed as hell."
"Uh, no, I won't." It wasn't like Palmer and I were buds and would be chatting soon. No way would I be bringing up my shirtless celebration if I happened to see him. I would just as soon that it be forgotten forever.
"I have to say, you look pretty incredible in that picture. You've got dynamite abs."
"Um, thanks!" I always got stupid happy when someone noticed my abs – extra points if it was a hot dude – and this was no exception. Palmer was still mad, but his brother apparently wasn't bothered. I was relieved that I'd escaped a bullet and thrilled by the compliment.
"Which leads me to my next question. What the hell were you doing, blatantly cruising me? You looking to get the shit kicked out of you or your ass fucked?"
Caught off guard, I was speechless.
I wasn't looking to get the shit kicked out of me, but I was always looking to get my ass fucked. Ever since Tyhcinn told me I was a cock whore three weeks ago and I'd quickly embraced it, servicing a stiff cock was never far from my thoughts. Never far from my holes, either. Was the military hunk was offering tool? If so, I was totally interested.
Flirt and give it up, Tyhcinn had ordered three weeks ago, and I'd followed his instructions religiously. I replied, "If it's you who's doing the fucking, damn right I'm looking to get my ass fucked."
He gave me the same friendly smirk I'd seen earlier. "I like a man who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to admit it. Lemme see if your abs are as good as this picture makes them out to be. Show `em."
I'd considered taking my baseball jersey off anyway, so I whipped it off and leaned back, resting my elbows on the seat behind me and knowing that position would show off my abs to the maximum extent. My six-pack looked damn good. Hell, it was an eight-pack. My stomach evidenced the effects of the endless crunches I'd done earlier in the day, not to mention my summer of intense workouts. Several other dudes in the stands were shirtless, so it didn't look unusual. I was enough of an exhibitionist that I was getting off on exposing my body for the stud.
"Nice. From your tan, it looks like you've been showing off those abs a lot this summer."
"I worked outside, servicing swimming pools, so I didn't wear a shirt much."
He paused, giving me apprising look, and said, "C 'mere kid." I moved down to the hunk's and over two seats so that I was next to him. Up close he was amazing.
"Here's the deal, Tyler. I don't have much time before I'm scheduled to be at a formal military presentation. But I'm horny and I could do with a nice piece of ass. Your ass. In addition to your great abs, you're sitting on a damn nice bubble butt. Don't misunderstand. I won't be buying you roses and a nice dinner before you throw your legs in the air for me and I bone you silly. I'm only fucking you, nothing more."
I was taken aback by his sudden offer and resisted the urge to ask him to go into more detail about exactly what he'd do to me. That would only cause my cock to stiffen more. What he'd mentioned so far sounded wonderful. "I'm good with that."
"Yeah, I bet you are. I'm DJ, by the way, but let's get a couple of things straight. I never do it with kids your age, but you've got a nice little body and I like your cocky attitude. Understand what you're signing up for. I'm fucking you rough, which is what I'm in the mood for right now. It's what I'm usually in the mood for. No whining or begging me to go easy on your butt. I'm going to treat you like a piece of meat and rut in your fucking asshole. I'm going to breed you like a bitch and maybe slap you around a bit to remind you who's in control. Yeah, I'll definitely slap you around. You're gonna do exactly what I tell you to. You only exist for one purpose. To get me off. You still up for it?"
"Yes, sir!"
He gave me a skeptical look. "Show me your cock."
"What? Here?"
He clenched his jaws, which caused his face to look incredibly handsome. "I said, fucking show me your cock! I told you that you were gonna do exactly what I instructed, and I fucking meant it!"
"Um, okay," I mumbled, a little in shock and puzzling how I was going to pull off his order.
The stud softened a bit. "You don't have to strip naked."
I figured out what he wanted. Nobody was near us or looking at us. I undid the belt on my pants and lifted the waistband and my jock up to reveal my hard, pre-cum coated rod.
"Nice tool. It's hard evidence, pun intended, of whether you want what I said I would do to you. Your dick says you do. Your dick says you want to get fucked and fucked hard. Your dick says you want to be treated like cum dump."
"Yeah. I do."
He chuckled. "I thought so. Okay, he's what's doing down. Jason just struck out the last batter of the inning, so I'm gonna poke my head in the dugout and say goodbye. If you're up for it, meet me in the parking lot. If you have any second thoughts or anything I've said bothers you, don't waste my time. No backing out half way through. No whining and no complaining. You show up and you're committed. No do-overs."
He may have thought I'd chicken out when he starkly described what he wanted, but his description made my heart flutter, my cock thicken and my ass tingle. "I'll be there, sir."
He smiled slightly. "I think you will be." He pulled on his jacket, gloves and hat. Damn was he incredible. I watched every step he took as he headed toward the dugout. I'd only used `sir' with Tyhcinn, but the way he looked in his uniform while delivering his speech, nothing else seemed appropriate.
I waited a minute before stuffing my baseball jersey into the back of my pants and leaving, positioning myself in the parking lot so I could wait for him to exit.
DJ took longer than I expected and I almost wondered if he was playing me and had no intention of hooking up. He'd said he didn't have much time and I wanted to spend as much of it as possible underneath the stud with his cock crammed in my ass. When he emerged from the game, he looked amazing. He was the definition of hotness in his uniform. White pants and tight, midnight blue jacket. Even white gloves. And that long, straight jawline under his white peaked cap. He held himself perfectly erect as he walked toward me.
Yeah, I'd give it up to the stud in a heartbeat.
Shirtless, barefoot and wearing only baseball pants, I felt naked next to him. He motioned me to an old Jeep that didn't look like a military vehicle. As we pulled out of the parking lot, he said, "Friend of mine lives nearby and has a spare bedroom above his garage that he lets me use. Beats the barracks. They're a little short on privacy even though I've fucked plenty of men there." His comment about the barracks set off a whole new set of fantasies in my dirty mind.
We were soon in the area of old homes where Lang and I spent the summer servicing pools. DJ turned down a narrow, tree-lined alley and pulled the Jeep inside a double garage. Although I knew the area, from the alley only garages and back yards were visible and I had no idea which house he stopped at. Okay, maybe I was paying more attention to the driver than where he was taking me.
We climbed a flight of stairs to a small, tidy apartment. The shades were drawn, leaving a filtered light. DJ announced, "First things first. I gotta get out of this uniform so I don't mess it up. Some dignitaries and the military brass are in town this afternoon and we have to put on a show." He glanced at his watch and said, "Hope you like fast fucks."
"I like `em all." Particularly, I thought, if he was the fucker and I was the fuckee.
The vision of DJ stripping and carefully folding his uniform was entrancing enough that I wanted a slow-motion video of it to play it over and over. I'd have to be content with my memories, but the scene was seared in my mind anyway. I got a boner watching his muscles move as he exposed his hot body. Soon he was standing in only boxers.
Conscious of getting dicked by ten men and playing a baseball game since the last time I showered, I said, "I, uh, might be a little sweaty after my game and all." It wasn't the game that was the problem; I'd worked up a bigger sweat getting balled by Cal and fucked in the john than playing ball.
DJ didn't seem to care. He growled, "You're gonna be a lot sweatier when I'm done with you," and moved toward me. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had pushed me onto the bed and immediately rammed his cock into my ass. But he pulled me into a deep kiss as he worked off my baseball pants.
I stifled a yell as he slapped my bare butt. He had a hard glint in his eyes as he grabbed my glutes with an iron grip and growled, "Fucking nice butt. I'm gonna ram my cock so far up your ass that you'll either be crying or begging me for more." No debate where I'd come out. I'd beg and beg again.
He slapped my bare butt again and within moments jammed two long fingers into my hole and jabbed my prostrate. He continued to slap my tender ass with his other hand. It was stinging and had to be bright red. "Eat my pits," he growled, raising one arm while he continued to stretch my boi pussy with his fingers.
I jumped at the opportunity. Ever since Piers did the honors on me, I'd thought about some pit action but it hadn't happened. I stuffed my face beneath DJ's shoulder muscles and began chowing down, leaving the hair in his underarms wet with my spit. Fuck, if we'd had the time I would have licked every inch of the dude's body, from his toes to his ears.
DJ pulled his fingers from my juicy hole and shoved them into my mouth. I sucked eagerly, getting the added benefit of tasting some tangy cum. Quyen? Joe? Bobby? Cal? Probably all the above. With his other hand, he released my hard rod from my jock and fisted it for a couple of minutes. He kissed me again and, to my surprise, dropped to his knees and swallowed me.
Fuck! Watching my manhood disappear into his mouth got me so turned on that I had to fight to avoid nutting immediately. DJ worked my leaky rod and had me moaning and gasping for breath in no time. His fingers were back inside my asshole, pummeling my prostate.
The sight of the hot stud was pushing my buttons as much as his mouth and finger work. Seeing the military hunk shirtless and on his knees, his boxers tenting with what looked like a mighty interesting piece, was sending bolts of electricity through me.
I was about to blow. "I'm kinda close," I mumbled helplessly.
DJ looked at me with a bemused smile and said, "Well, we can't have that, can we? I want you horny as hell when I use your sweet ass." Around him I would have been horny as hell even if my balls had been drained dry first. He added, "Your butt looks even better out of your baseball pants. Jock strap makes it perfect."
He rose to his feet and surprised me with a sharp slap to my face. My eyes were wide as he grabbed my throat and sneered, "On your knees, bitch! I know a cock whore when I see one and it's written all over your pretty face."
A cock whore was exactly what I was, but it always caught my attention whenever another man detected it. Tyhcinn had known for years but waited to tell me until three weeks ago, when I was ready to embrace it. Nils, the blond stack of muscles married to Rai, had known right away. Quyen told me I was a cock whore earlier in the day, although it was possible Tyhcinn had clued him in. Still, it sent a little shiver through me that DJ noticed.
He growled, "Show me how good of a cocksucker you are. Put those pretty lips and your throat to work!" He pressed me to my knees and I eagerly slid his boxers down. An amazing cock popped out, stretching toward the ceiling.
DJ was uncut and I reached for his shaft and pulled the foreskin back over the head. His cock wasn't the biggest or fattest or longest cock that I'd had, but it was close, very close, in all three categories. It was a perfect combination of those three attributes – big, fat and long. It was hefty in my hand and rigid to the touch. The dude's shaft was a beautiful shade of onyx, darker than his skin. I couldn't get my mouth on it soon enough.
I heard a growl of satisfaction as I licked the hunk's rod and then deep throated it. It wasn't long before he took control, his big hands intertwined in my long blond hair and roughly guiding my head back and forth on his tool. He didn't begin with a gentle face fuck and quickly accelerated until he was administering a full-on face bashing. The dude's low-hanging ball sac bounced off my chin each time he shoved his manhood down my throat. My eyes started to water and I concentrated on breathing to avoid gagging. He'd said no whining or begging so I kept quiet. I was totally turned on.
"Yeah, cocksucker, suck that dick! Take it all the way down your throat." DJ slammed his cock in and out of my mouth, forcing his way into my throat. I gurgled a response.
DJ had warned that he didn't have much time, so I wasn't surprised when he transitioned to fuck mode. What surprised me, however, was how he did it. He reached down, grabbed me under my arms and in a quick motion hurled me onto the bed. I couldn't believe how strong he was; he tossed me like I was a pillow. The dude was well-built but it wasn't like he was a huge body builder or anything like that. He was tall, so maybe it was all about leverage. Perhaps it was a tactic taught in the Marines.
He was on me in no time, shoving my knees to my head and rolling my ass upward. I wrapped my arms around my knees, holding them next to my head and keeping my hole exposed and open. DJ slapped my bare buns several times, growling something about how he liked fucking a bright red pair of buns. He coated his fuck tool and my hole with lube, although after my day of being used as a cum dump, I didn't need grease. It wasn't like I was going to object.
Aiming his cock at my ass, DJ hovered over me. Lust filled his eyes and he growled, "This is a world-class ass. It looked awesome at the game but I thought maybe that was because of the way your baseball pants fit or because I hadn't gotten any for two weeks. Seeing it now in your jock strap confirms my initial read. You've got a bubble butt to die for. A hole made for cock. I wish I had time to rim it and enjoy your awesome abs, but I'm going to breed you like you were meant to be bred."
My dick was hard already but it lurched happily when the hunky Marine lavished praise on my abs and ass. It bounced even more when he powered into me, penetrating me in one deep thrust that cause me to gasp. As he pressed past my sphincter and relentlessly boned me until he was balls deep, he moaned. "Oh fuck is that hole tight!"
I'd taken eleven cocks and it was barely midafternoon, so I didn't see how it was possible that my fuck chute was tight. It had to be closer to gaping. But I instinctively understood that DJ knew asses and if he thought it was tight then I was going with that. Regardless, I was happy the stud liked it. I urged him on, begging, "Fuck it! Fuck that ass. Use it like you own it!"
"I own your sweet ass, all right. And I'm gonna use it the way I want."
With my knees at my head and DJ smothering me with his muscular, ripped body, I was helpless as he assaulted my hole. I loved the feeling of being trapped under the ripped Marine and being used for his pleasure. I suppose I just liked getting balled. The slow, sensual fuck Aziz delivered in the morning was great, but so was the brutal butt pounding DJ was dishing out. I loved both extremes. Like they say, variety is the spice of life.
DJ had me pinned on the bed and with the waistband of my jock strap beneath my junk, my drippy cock was dangling in my face. Each time he thrust his tool into me, my prick edged closer and closer to my lips. Damn. I'd never tried sucking myself, but in this position I was pretty sure I could at least get the head in my mouth. Instinctively I opened my mouth and as DJ rammed all the way inside me with a particularly deep thrust, the head of my cock dipped into my mouth. My own pre-cum coated my tongue.
I hadn't gotten myself off since before I busted out of the closet on Memorial Day. Well, except when I wanked while sucking or getting fucked. I didn't miss jerking my pole and coaxing my own load from my balls, not when the alternative of getting off with another guy existed. However, the reality of my dong sliding on my tongue made me realize I could self-suck if I wanted. I doubted I would do it on my own unless I was stranded on a desert island for a month or something like that. Much better to get off with a stiff cock in my ass. But with DJ pillaging my hole, I let the head of my cock dip in and out of my mouth.
Fuck. Getting sucked by the stud had gotten me close, getting drilled by his big cock was getting me closer, and now feeling my wet mouth on my dick was edging me to the verge of a climax. I greedily sucked on myself as DJ slammed into my raised hole. I didn't know if the dude would be pissed if I came, but I couldn't help myself. All at once my balls exploded.
The problem was that DJ was still pounding my butt, thrusting in and out like a madman. He was balls deep inside me when the first blast of cum erupted and it rifled onto my tongue. However, as he pulled out my dick popped out of my mouth and my second shot splattered onto my face. By the time my cock was done firing, half of my hot jizz was in my mouth and half painted my face with ribbons of spunk.
DJ nutted not long after. He got even rougher toward the end, his chiseled muscles taunt as he repeatedly slammed his rock-hard weapon into my defenseless hole. With a guttural growl, he shouted, "Fuck yeah, take my cum! Take my cum, fucker!"
I was helpless beneath the stud as his balls emptied and his load flooded my hole. I lost count of how many times his big prong lurched inside me, spilling his seed. He'd brought a mammoth load to the party. The hunky Marine took a deep breath and exhaled. "Damn, I needed that."
"Me, too," I replied. Objectively that didn't pass the laugh test. I'd just taken a twelfth load of the day in my ass so I could hardly claim to be sex starved. DJ said he hadn't gotten any for two weeks and during that time... well, let's just say I'd gorged on hard cock and fresh cum. Still, the thorough way he'd dominated me and the devastating fuck he'd delivered, plunging his big tool into my ass and occupying it like it was made for him, left me eager for more.
He pulled out of my sloppy boi hole moments afterwards. He'd fucked me for a good ten or fifteen minutes at a frenetic pace, but the dude was barely panting. I think I was sweatier than he was. Gazing down at me and seeing my cum-smeared face, he chuckled. "That's sweet, kid. Sweet."
He dove down and began licking cum off my face, feeding some to me and swallowing some himself. He finished cleaning me and chuckled, "Ripped little body, great ass, hot mouth and cum like candy. You are one dynamite fuck." He pressed his mouth against mine, kissing me deeply.
Breaking the kiss, he stared into my eyes. "I don't fuck twinks. Too much effort and too little payoff. Dunno why I made an exception for you. Horny, I guess. First piece of ass I've gotten in two weeks. But damn. If every twink was as good a fuck as you are, I'd reverse course. You're a damn fine cocksucker and your ass is to die for. You took what I dished out without whining. And that stunt of sucking yourself and cumming hands-free on your face was incredibly hot. I should take you back to the base and lock you in the brig so I can fuck your tight pussy until you can't walk."
Sounded like heaven to me. Between foxholes, the barracks and the brig, I had plenty of raw material for fantasies about the stud Marine.
DJ announced he had to hustle, although I would have loved an encore. To hell with an encore; I would have loved DJ keeping me tied to the bed for the rest of the day and repeatedly fucking my brains out. He wiped down with a wet towel while I cleaned his cock with my mouth. He quickly pulled on his uniform. I was hard again watching the show.
I could have spent hours staring at the stud getting in and out of his uniform, not to mention hours enjoying his cock in and out of my holes.
TO BE CONTINUED...
I hope you liked this chapter and the rest of the story. If so, send me a note. I'm always interested in what readers enjoyed – characters, lines, the setup, etc. – and in their ideas for the story. ColtonAalto@gmail.com.
I expect to post a new chapter every two weeks, so look for them! The story does have an ending, however, and won't go on endlessly. At this point, three more chapters are in the works and then Tyler's wild summer will conclude.
My other Nifty stories are listed in the author index under Colton: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#colton You can also find them by searching for "Colton Aalto" using the Nifty Archive Search button: https://search.niftyarchives.org/?keywords=colton+aalto&sort=Relevance
I jump around in different Nifty categories, so you'll find a bit of everything. Enjoy!
© Copyright Colton Aalto 2019
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