Date: Thu, 26 May 2016 15:56:31 +0100 (BST)
From: "rampage938@btinternet.com" <rampage938@btinternet.com>
Subject: "IT'S ALRIGHT SON" - 2

One hot, dry and windy day I made my way with cleaning supplies in hand,
down to Sergeant Haskell's apartment to give it its weekly cleaning. I was
wearing a short pair of Levi cut-offs that highlighted my tight buns and
hairy legs, an ancient tank top that was so worn and stretched it barely
covered my torso, and running shoes but not socks. When I opened the door
to Haskell's apartment, his pungent masculinity overwhelmed me. How the
fuck did this man work up such a vapour of masculinity? God, what a turn on
it was! Simply standing in the doorway, breathing in his maleness, was
enough to initiate an inevitably lubricious stimulation in my groin.
Standing in his darkened living room, I considered whether to jack off
there and then or to make a start on my duties. I decided on the latter
course of action.

From where I stood I could see right through into the kitchen and down the
hall to the bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen looked OK; anyway, he hardly
ever used it. I made my way down the hall, clicked the light on in the
bedroom and shook my head in disbelief. The sheets which should have been
on the bed were lying in a tangled heap on the floor, along with the
pillows. Clothes were strewn everywhere. As I looked closer, I saw that the
sheets were heavily stained with dried jism. Lying on the bedside locker
was a pair of men's tight cotton drawers. When I picked them up I could see
immediately they would be far too small for Haskell to wear. Lying next to
them was a half-used tube of KY jelly, some of which had oozed from the
tube and was half way to setting. Holy cow! There was even a used condom on
the floor at the head of the bed. Must have been one helluva fuck!! Blood
rushed straight to my cock just thinking about Haskell's dick buggering the
living daylights out of some poor unsuspecting bastard. Some young,
innocent greenhorn recruit had go the wrong side of his instructor, been
ordered to report to him when they got back to base, and had been well and
truly punished for his misdemeanours - the lucky sod!

I picked the condom up off the floor and was about ready to throw it in the
trash bin when I thought I would try it on for size. It did not look as if
any cum residue was in it, but it had definitely been worn. Popping the
buttons of my cut-offs, my stiff cock bounced into the air, searching for
freedom and release. I brushed the condom across the head of my cock and a
pearly drop of sticky fluid emerged from my piss slit, coating the condom
with glutinous pre-cum. Haskell's own unique odour, combined with the
faintly lingering smell of recent sex, permeated the bedroom and I was fast
approaching meltdown. I eagerly slipped the open end of the rubber over the
head of my throbbing boner. Man, was this thing stretched out! I am not
exactly small in the dick department but the Sergeant's cock must be huge
to have stretched the latex into the shape it had taken. With my back to
the door of the bedroom and caught up in the act of trying on his spent
condom, I nearly passed out from fright when a rough, calloused hand caught
me a stinging crack across my backside. A harsh, grating voice sliced
directly into my ear. "What in all fucking Hell do you think you are doing?
And how did you get in here, pervert?"

I spun round and there was Sergeant Keith Haskell, caked in red clay mud
from head to toe with that puissant sex odour of his drifting over me. The
shock of being caught in flagrante, with my cock wearing his used condom as
some bizarre kind of revolutionary flag, combined with my cut-offs being
down round my ankles, caused me to fall right into his muscular, furry
arms. He held me for a moment, eye to eye, my cock still hard and thrumming
wildly against his combats, then he slowly lowered me down until I was
kneeling in front of his mud-caked booted feet. His right foot moved
forward until my balls and stiff condom covered cock rested on the toe and
laces of his filthy boot. Applying a steady pressure, he dragged the toe of
his boot up the full length of the underside of my cock, sending shock
waves of lust racing through my young, violently shaking body. My nipples
hardened instantly and I moaned audibly in submission to the quiet virility
and power of the man before me. I looked up and met his darkly shining
emerald eyes. Without hesitation, I obeyed the unspoken command issuing
from them. Placing my arms behind my back, I leant forward and began
methodically attempting to clean the dirt from his boots with my tongue. It
did not take very long for my face to be covered with a mixture of saliva
and the indigenous red mud of the countryside. As the leather of his boots
began to respond to my ministrations, Haskell took a step backwards, leaned
over and with his hand under my muddy chin, lifted my face towards his
groin. Winding his fingers in my hair, he dragged my face into his
crotch. Here was the centre of him, the centre of his overwhelming
sexuality, the centre of his manhood.

I could feel his cock pulsing under the fabric as he dragged my face back
and forth across its tumescent length. He brought my mouth to his shrouded
cockhead. I required no further instruction from him as my tongue flicked
out and swathed the impressive helmet of his sex through his pants. Saliva
was pouring from me, soaking the cloth shrouding his glans until his
manhood's ridge was plainly outlined. Trembling no longer with fear and
embarrassment but with unbridled lust, I reached up and unbuckled his belt,
unzipped his fly and tugged urgently at his combats to expose his air force
issue boxer shorts. His visibly throbbing masculinity was trapped in the
leg of the pungent cotton shorts, drenched in a cocktail of my saliva and
his sexual lubricant. Long and thick, it was capped with a baby's fist of a
head. I had to have it all. Releasing it from its fabric prison proved to
be no easy task and Haskell's need was clearly as great as my own. He was
so steely hard and his need was so urgent I fumbled with his shorts, unable
to liberate his pulsating, quivering erection. Grunting his frustration at
my inept performance, he roughly pushed my slavering tongue away from his
groin, grabbed the fly of his shorts in both hands and ripped them apart,
thereby freeing his magnificent manhood. It slapped against my cheek, the
huge cap like a heat seeking missile destined for its target, my mouth,
finding it, tearing its way inside, forcing its girth and length past my
teeth, across my tongue, diving straight for my throat. Could I take it?
Haskell was past caring. My nose was quickly buried in his sweaty auburn
cock hair, crackling like fireworks on the fourth of July, in front of my
eyes, his thrumming dick beating a primitive but approving tattoo inside my
throat. His fiery-haired balls scratched my chin as they bobbed and swung
to the rhythm of his pelvic thrusts.

I seized his golden thighs, running my hands up and down their hairy
brawniness, driving him deeper and deeper down my throat, towards my
gullet. Haskell was uncompromising in his assault, tugging unmercifully on
my hair, forcing his great length into me until my tears met with his
flowing lubrication and my saliva. I felt him swell in preparation for the
launch of a massive load of jism, but I did not want this to end. I pulled
off his cock and watched in amazement as it snapped back against his
treasure trail of golden red hair reaching just above his navel. Lacking
the onslaughts in my mouth and down my throat, I made up for the loss by
greedily devouring one of his copper wire balls, pulling it taut and laving
it with the juices flowing out of me. Haskell moaned with satisfaction,
spreading his legs wider to give me better access to his low-hanging
testicles. As I worked them over with my tongue and all-devouring mouth, I
spread his arse cheeks and began licking my way along his perineum towards
his perspiring, reeking arsehole. This was to be my undoing.

With the speed of lightning, I found myself flat on my back and Haskell's
ripe arse firmly planted over my face. I felt I was about to suffocate but
was happy with that thought because digging into his arsehole with my
tongue was sending my prick dancing wildly with unrestrained
lechery. Haskell leant forward over my torso to open his sweet-and-sour
hole even further while his big cock drummed rhythmically against my
hairless chest. I licked all the day's odour and sweaty stickiness away,
smoothing the hairs around his pink hole until it opened like a rosebud
unfolding in the warmth of sunlight. Surprising me, Haskell leant further
forward and stripped the spent condom from my cock, plunging his mouth down
my eight and a half steel-hard inches, taking me to the root. His thick
fingers were soon rubbing up and down my arse crack searching for my
teenage hole. I knew I was about to get fucked big time, but I did not know
what I craved more: his nine inches of man-cannon sawing in and out of my
horny hole, or continuing the arsehole feast I was gorging on.

Flipping around and placing himself firmly between my out-spread legs,
Sergeant Haskell grabbed an ankle in each calloused hand, stretching my
legs like a wishbone to expose my twitching hole to his heat seeking
missile of a cock. With lust glazed eyes, he spat a huge wad on to the head
of his cock. Leaning forward, he pushed it slowly but forcibly into my fuck
hole. I inhaled sharply with pain at the colossal intrusion. As I did so,
Haskell took advantage, forcing more than half his cock into my rectum,
roughly pushing my body along the carpet toward the bed as he continued the
assault with his fully loaded cannon. Seconds later he was pounding into me
as if he was in an almost uncontrollable rage. All I could do was to hold
on to his mighty arms and surrender my being to his manhood. My own cock
was stone hard and tapping against my abdomen. Haskell's prick hammered my
prostate, coaxing me closer and closer to orgasm. I could feel the head of
his cock rub repeatedly against me, driving me further and further towards
oblivion. His plum-headed penis was at the gateway to my arse when the
first shot of jism erupted from my cock and landed on my forehead. With my
mouth wide open in a soundless scream of release the next shot coated my
lips and scorched my tongue. I convulsed with pleasure as his prick swelled
inside me. Just as I thought I could not cum any more, his cock pounded the
walls of my rectum and jettisoned six massive spurts of seed, pushing even
more sex juice from my turgid prick. Panting, sweating, collapsing in a
haze of sex scents and semen, with his still hard cock in my arse, Haskell
put his arms around me and pulled me to him. In a complete reversal of his
previous roughness and domination, he gently kissed the cum from my
forehead and brought his lips to mine. "It's alright son," he whispered,
"it's alright." With the fur of his chest teasing my nipples to hardness
again, he began a slow in and out of his massive pleasure rod, working both
of us toward an even higher peak of sexual rapture.

I let my host know that I was going to be staying with some buddies for a
few days and remained in Haskell's love nest for three whole days, stopping
only to eat, shower, shave and shag. He shagged me on the floor, in the
bed, on the settee, bent over the kitchen table, standing up, lying down,
sitting, squatting, anywhere and any way he could. I never imagined any man
could manufacture such vast quantities of sperm - he must have made enough
to repopulate half the county. Suddenly, it was all over. By the time I set
off for Uni, he had been posted overseas and I lost touch with him.
However, even after all the time that has elapsed since those halcyon days,
I can still hear his voice whispering in my ear, "It's alright, son, it's
alright."

Laurie Page, December 2008