Date: Sun, 27 Mar 2016 15:53:56 +0000 (UTC)
From: anonymous.a
Subject: Colonel of Truth

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---

COLONEL OF TRUTH

By anonymous.a

How fortunate I was to have parents who loved me so much they refused to
pay for my college education. Seriously. They believed I would take college
more seriously if I had to pay my own tuition, and that by working for my
education I would learn "character."

Well, I don't know what kind of character I acquired through that
experience but I did learn the value and necessity of hard work.

To save money I decided to continue living with my folks and get an
associate's degree from a nearby community college before heading off to
university. I had stashed away some cash from a job last summer working on
an assembly line at the town's industrial park, so I had a running
start. But I still needed money for gas, car insurance, and rent. Yup. Mom
and Dad decided now that I was an adult, I should pay them rent. It wasn't
much but sheesh, anything and everything hurt when you were having to float
your own boat on a 19-year-old's salary.

I got a part-time job working at the service desk of a JC Penney's at the
town's mall. It wasn't labor-intensive and we got discounts on everything
in the store. But man, it sure taught me a lot about people. I never wanted
to be a customer-facing employee ever again. People can be total pains in
the ass.

One of those pains in the ass, and I mean that literally, was an Air Force
colonel who would drop by the store. We have a base nearby so it wasn't
unusual to see members of the service in the store. This guy was in his 40s
and looked good for that age, I suppose, with short, dark hair flecked with
the occasional gray strand here and there, and a huge nose that stood out
from the rest of his face. He was about 5-9 and weighed probably 150 pounds
– not a big guy by any means but I wouldn't have wanted to tangle with
him, because he looked strong and quick. I guess the military requires that
you stay in shape.

He would come by the desk and always zero in on me. At first I thought
nothing of it. I helped him and assumed that because I had, he always came
back to me when he needed something else, usually some silly request for an
order, or cash from his credit card. But I became suspicious when I began
finding notes on my car.

The store closed around 9 p.m. and I was one of the first out of there, as
I had to get home and study. I had gotten into my car before I noticed the
piece of paper under the windshield wiper. I thought: Shit, not a ticket!
That's all I need.

But it wasn't a ticket. Written in pencil were these words, "Damn you are
hot! Are you into older guys? This older guy would love to plow that sweet
little asshole of yours."

My blood ran cold. I wadded up the note and threw it down in the parking
lot, as if it were contagious. Then I looked around, to see if anybody was
watching me. The thought of some old perv plundering my ass – it made me
slightly ill. I started the car and drove away.

From that day forward I began watching our customers, looking for a sign
that one of them might be the note-leaver. My only suspect was the colonel,
who came by a few more times. And it was a few more times that I found
notes on my car – always something lewd and disgusting.

I didn't see him for months, and the notes stopped arriving. I slowly let
down my guard and life resumed the mundane march of school, work, and the
occasional party – and that's how I came to be in the colonel's world
again.

I was returning home from a party one night when I passed a club. There, in
the parking lot, stood the colonel talking to a group of other people. I
guess the two or three beers I'd drunk at the party emboldened me, because
I turned into the parking lot and drove up to him. Rolling down my window I
said, "Write any good notes lately?"

When he looked at me his face brightened. He said goodbye to the others and
stood by my car, his fingers on the sill. He said, "Come by my place and
I'll explain everything. I promise."

God, I must have been out of my mind. I decided to follow him.

He lived in a condo in an upscale neighborhood close to the water. I found
an empty visitor's parking space and left the car there as I followed him
to his ground-floor unit.

Inside, the place was pretty sparse. Not much in the way of furniture, or
electronics, and the walls were bare. But what he did have was pricey –
Bang & Olufsen, Kartell. Real expensive stuff.

He made me a drink, rum and Coke, about three parts rum for every part
Coke. Just raising it to my lips made my eyes water, but truth be told I
wanted a bit more of a buzz. I was very nervous, wondering why I had come
here after reading his foul notes. Did I secretly want to take him up on
his offers?

We sat on the couch and he started talking. He began by apologizing for the
notes, explaining them as crude attempts to break the ice between us. He
said he was wildly attracted to me and he guessed his heart got the better
of his head. Then he went on for awhile about how the military takes a dim
view of gays, and how much he trusted me to keep his secret. (This was way
before Don't Ask Don't Tell.)

Meanwhile, he kept edging closer to me. Soon he was close enough to touch
my knee with his hand. I took a stiff slug off my rum and Coke when he left
his hand in place.

All the while he was staring into my eyes. I don't know if he was trying to
hypnotize me or what, but when he leaned in and gently kissed me on the
lips, I didn't pull away. He kissed me harder, running his hand to the back
of my head, mussing my hair, his tongue now finding its way into my
mouth. I was not resisting him at all – for some reason, maybe the
booze, I was very turned on by this. I kissed him back and when he broke
the kiss to nibble at my ear, or kiss my throat, I let him.

Meanwhile, his hands had taken on a life of their own. He was running them
up and down my back and my sides. When he got to my pants he lifted my
shirt and began to rub my bare skin. All I could think was to press against
him. I needed more contact. The feel of his hands and his lips was like a
narcotic to me.

He had my pants off. Somehow I kicked off my loafers. I was wearing tighty
whities, which he pulled down and then off as I raised my ass off the
couch. At that moment his head plunged into my crotch and I felt an
amazing, cauterizing heat envelope my cock. I could not help but release a
moan of pure ecstasy. Twice in the past, girls had gone down on me, but
this sensation was on an entirely different level of passion. I think they
call that "lust," and I was feeling it. I spread my legs for him and he
swallowed my cock while his right hand rubbed and massaged my thigh and the
left cupped my balls. Occasionally his sucking grasp would descend to my
ball suck and he'd draw them separately into his mouth, gently rolling them
around on his tongue. But always he returned to my cock, which was harder
now than I had ever seen it. A veritable gorilla boner, pumped up to
maximum capacity by the amazing things he was doing to it with his mouth
and his tongue.

I felt a tingling sensation gather at the base of my spine, and I swear it
was as primal and hot as the very first time I had an orgasm, a lad of 14
humping pillows in my bed late at night. I warned him I was cumming and he
latched onto my cock with his mouth and would not let go. I couldn't hold
it back any longer. I wailed and spewed jizz into his mouth, spasm after
spasm of hot jizz, my eyes closed so I could focus completely on the
ecstasy pouring out of me and into him.

Finally, I relaxed into a contented slump as he lifted off my cock and
kissed my stomach. I thought we were done and I wanted to savor the moment.

But we were not done.

I felt his cock touch my asshole. I opened my eyes. He was staring down at
me. His cock, slick with some kind of lube, was poised to enter me. He
smiled at me and whispered, "You're so fucking beautiful. I've got to do
this. I can't resist." And with that he pressed against my ass.

Surprisingly, the knob of his cock slid right into me with no problem. It
wasn't until he had about half his cock inside that I began to feel pain
and hissed. He paused, gave me a chance to get used to it, and kissed
me. Then he resumed pushing. At one point the pain stepped aside, as if I
had finally relaxed and allowed him entry, and I felt his crotch pressing
against me, his balls draped over my ass.

He continued kissing me as he fucked me. I found myself wrapping my arms
around him, rubbing his back and then reaching down and grabbing his butt
and pulling him into me as he pounded at my hole. I spread my legs wider,
then wrapped them around him too, so that he had no choice but to fuck
me. And that he did, slamming into me with such force that we both began
sweating. I could smell his funk intermingling with my own, and the
combination of sensation, smell and the sound of our bodies slapping
together coaxed another orgasm out of me.

Right at that moment I felt him tense up and push hard, and then his cock
began pumping me full of hot cum. I could literally feel it filling my
insides, four or five good jolts that left me quivering with pleasure.

We lay like that for a couple of minutes. Then he slowly eased out of
me. When his body disengaged from mine the air felt freezing. I think my
teeth began to chatter. I drank the rest of the rum and Coke and felt the
heat of alcohol gathering in my stomach.

At that point I passed out.

When I awakened later that night, I was in his bed, face down, and he was
on top of me, gently sliding his cock in and out of my newly stretched
asshole. The feeling was like a massage, so warm and sexy that I couldn't
help fall asleep again. I didn't wake up until morning, after he had left
for the base.

I saw him many more times after that. I always let him fuck me. I was
fascinated by his facial expressions when he came inside me – part lust,
part bliss. You don't think of tough military guys having those kinds of
emotions, but they do.

This happened before the arrival of AIDS. Obviously I would never have that
kind of sex today without taking precautions. Back then all the STDs could
be fixed with antibiotics.

I sometimes wonder what happened to the colonel. He was reassigned and I
lost track of him.

One thing's for sure: Maybe working my way through college didn't build
character, but fuck sessions with the colonel sure did!

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Check out Part 1 of my erotic novel "One Day in the Life of Josh" at
Amazon. It's only 99 cents, but I guarantee you'll get more than a dollar's
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Let's hook up on twitter. I'm at @anonymous_sexie . Shhhh! Don't tell
anyone.

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