Date: Tue, 9 Mar 2021 12:34:00 +0000 (UTC)
From: garogora@aol.com
Subject: "The Marine From Sin City" Part One (Gay/Military)

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This story, like the other I've submitted to Nifty, is true, though names
have been changed and identifying details omitted. If you have any
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- - - - - - -

I started boot camp before my eighteenth birthday. Not long before, mind
you. I turned eighteen with no fanfare and, miraculously, with the event
having escaped my drill instructors' notice. I didn't struggle as much as
some of the other recruits, but the last thing any recruit wants is to
spend his birthday on the quarterdeck.

I should explain a bit more about myself. If you want the full story, I
already wrote the naughtier bits out under Adult Youth, titled "Discovery
in Sin City". Check it out if you're into the kind of stories that fall
under Adult Youth. Otherwise, get the short version. Without too much
detail, I was raised by a neglectful, alcoholic father who preferred work
and booze over family, and an abusive stepmother. I knew I was gay from the
first time I ever saw a man naked, in the showers at a pool when I was ten
years old. I became sexually active at the age of twelve, mostly with men
old enough to be my father. I loved every second of it. I started out
sucking dick in public bathrooms, but after a sexually charged encounter
with a friend of my father's who was an exotic dancer, I had my first
experience with anal sex. I managed to keep my sexual proclivities secret
from my family, somehow, until I was seventeen. Even then, my stepmother
only learned that I had had sex with a friend my age, and before she had a
chance to use that information to damage my future, I was off to the Marine
Corps.

(Note: None of the names used here are real, because I don't like giving
out identifying information. For myself, I'll use the name Ryan
Foreman. It's not my real name, and any similarities to any existing Ryan
Foreman out there is unintentional.)

This is not a story about having tons of sex in Marine Corps boot camp. The
sex actually came well after the end of boot camp, but Don't Ask, Don't
Tell was in full swing at the time this story begins (in early 2010) and I
was not trying to get caught.

I did have some sex-adjacent encounters in boot camp. I couldn't tell you
how exciting it is to take a shower in a cramped space with 70 of the
hottest men America had to offer. There were a few fellow Marine recruits I
got to share some curious glances with. Recruit C was one of only recruits
younger than I was. I enjoyed getting a look at his thick, average-length
cock even if I never got to see it hard. Recruits A and H had some of the
biggest dicks I had ever seen despite being fully soft. I got to watch
Recruit D, whose dick was a little bigger than my own proportionally-girthy
seven inches, masturbate from beginning to end, but I was never sure if he
even noticed I was there. Throughout each of these, I was surprised to
discover a degree of self-control I never suspected I had, allowing me to
avoid obvious arousal. In fact, I was almost nine weeks into boot camp
before I felt the urge to actually masturbate, an experience that ended up
being so messy I was shocked I had time to clean it up without being
caught.

Boot camp was over in thirteen surprisingly short weeks. My parents came to
my graduation. It was an astounding difference, being with my parents but
also being an adult with my own money, able to make my own choices. They
were different because I was a man now, but I was also a very different man
than the boy they remembered (or, indeed, the one I remembered). For one
thing, boot camp had trimmed the baby fat from my body. I had gone in about
180 pounds, with just enough fat on the belly to make it vague whether or
not I worked out. I came out about 165, having lost most of the fat on my
body and having gained a bit of muscle. For another, my attitude and
outlook had been molded by twelve weeks of being treated like subhuman
trash, followed by Marine Week, the final week of recruit training, in
which our accomplishments - and the change in behavior from the DIs - made
us feel as though we had ascended from being less than human to something
far greater.

After ten days of leave - a mandatory experience for new Marines - I
returned to training. Marine Combat Training was a fun experience, though
again, largely not fun in a sexual way.

I did have one brief sexual encounter, but I was too afraid to go through
with it. See, I was on liberty with a buddy. He and I decided to hit a
nearby mall to see Iron Man 2 in theaters. On our way there via bus, we had
a sort of layover at a bus station in Oceanside that had a public
bathroom. Those of you who opted to read my previous story know - I have a
history with public bathrooms. Sure enough, no sooner did I check the place
out than I found a man sporting an erection at a urinal. I hadn't sucked a
dick in over 8 months - not since my stepmother made me go with her to
Florida in the middle of the previous summer. It was now April and I had a
thirst for cum. However, as I mentioned before, I had a buddy waiting for
me outside, so I gave the cruiser's meaty, uncut rod a couple of strokes,
apologized, and left. I do really regret this now, though, because I
learned years later that the buddy I was with was a closeted gay man
himself, and very into me. Missed opportunities.

After MCT, I went to a school to learn my military occupational
specialty. Here, I would get a little closer to breaking that dry spell,
but still not actually achieve it. The best I managed was watching my
roommate jerk off through the vent on our room's bathroom door, which he
didn't realize gave a perfect view of the toilet to anyone who happened to
be lying on the floor outside the bathroom. It was pervy, but I was
desperate for stimulation and he was hot.

My dry spell passed the one-year mark there, and by the end of training, I
was ready to dip my toes back in the water. I had no idea how to cruise on
a military base beyond knowing that it was a bad idea. My public bathroom
experience wasn't going to help me.

When I arrived at my first duty station, I was pleased to see how much
privacy was afforded to the barracks rooms there. While my barracks room at
my MOS school had enough beds for four Marines (though only enough Marines
for two or three per room), the new barracks featured a common area with a
minifridge and a sink, a bathroom, and two small but separated one-man
bedrooms. Not long after that, I was introduced to my new shop.

I was immediately infatuated with both of the sergeants. They were
attractive men. Sergeant Jackson was short, lean, blond, and had very full,
red lips. Others referred to them as his DSL's. I really hoped they were
used for that purpose, too. The other sergeant, Sergeant Cortes, was about
my height, but more burly. The main reason I was attracted to him was that
he looked astonishingly similar to a former fuck buddy of mine by the name
of Derek. We also had the tall, lean Latino Corporal Sandoval; a handsome,
charismatic black PFC named Sanford, and a staff NCO and officer.

The Marine Corps being what it was, there was a good deal of homophobia,
but also a lot of homoerotic behavior that many guys felt comfortable with
because they assumed everyone involved was straight. I remember one
particularly slow day, we were sitting around chatting and Sergeant Cortes
started teasing Sergeant Jackson about his lips. Without missing a beat,
Sergeant Jackson sarcastically confirmed, "These lips have sucked more dick
than PFC Foreman's mother."

It was the first time I had been included in this kind of banter, and I was
prepared. "My stepmom or my bio mom?" I asked innocently.

Sergeant Jackson considered the question before responding, "Both."

"My bio mom was a Vegas stripper, so I can imagine how much your jaw must
hurt trying to keep up with her." Sergeant Cortes laughed uproariously,
more amused at my courage at responding in kind than by the joke itself.

It was a largely innocent moment, but it planted a seed in my mind. Was
Sergeant Jackson joking, or was he disguising the truth as a joke, taking
refuge in the audacity of the statement? My interest in Sergeant Cortes
began to fade from that moment, despite his similar appearance to a sexual
partner I wasn't fully over yet. I had to know whether Sergeant Jackson had
spent his time the way I used to, craving and servicing as many dicks as
could cross his path.

I discovered personal ads on the internet that week, and began searching
them for key words like "military", "Marine", and the name of the base on
which I was stationed. I was disappointed every time these men turned out
not to be Sergeant Jackson, but I got over that disappointement pretty
quickly when I started having men over in my barracks room.

The first Marine to pay me a visit was a private, which surprised me. I
wasn't expecting to be the guy with higher rank. In truth, though, I was
pretty sure he had a few years on me in the Corps, and I guessed he had
been in legal trouble and had been demoted. He came over in the middle of
the afternoon my first Saturday there, at a time when I assumed the
barracks would be as empty as it ever got. It was a good instinct, as most
Marines had much better things to do on a Saturday than sit around the
barracks.

Dale was a stocky, muscular, hairy white guy, younger than my usual
public-bathroom crowd by far. His dick was a bit smaller than average,
perhaps 4.5 inches hard. I sucked him with as much gusto as if he were as
hung as Rick or any of the bigger guys I was used to. I had learned, in six
years of sucking dick, that size didn't matter to a man who was getting his
dick sucked unless I made it seem like it mattered. I didn't want to be
disappointed. I wanted to love sucking his cock, since it was my first in
over a year. He was certainly pleased by how much I enjoyed myself, which
only led to him being interested in what was hiding in my shorts.

When he bent down and squeezed my erection through my shorts and boxers,
Dale whispered, "Fuck, you're a big boy, huh?"

His word choice made me think of Rick, the man who I sucked off my very
first time and many times after that, who always called me a good boy when
I swallowed his cock. I spasmed a bit and the precum started flowing. I
stood and Dale chuckled when he saw the growing wet spot on the front of my
shorts. "Don't worry," he said, "that can happen. Overexcited or
whatever. Happens to all of us."

I looked back at him, confused, before I realized: he thought I had just
jizzed in my shorts. I chuckled back, then pulled off my shirt and dropped
my shorts. "That's just precum, dude. I've never had a problem like that
before."

I stood there, now wearing nothing but loose boxers, hairy, muscled,
bulging, and leaking. He looked up at me from the bed, admiration all over
his face. He was equally attractive, I thought, but the look on his face
was less like lust than worship. He seemed frozen in place. It occurred to
me, suddenly, that despite being two to four years older than me, Dale
almost certainly had significantly less sexual experience than I did. He
was no virgin, I guessed, but a corn-fed midwestern boy. Certainly also not
accustomed to having casual sex with total strangers.

I reached for his hand. It was rough: the hand of an aircraft mechanic. I
lifted it, took it in both hands. I felt the calluses on his palms and the
hairs on the reverse side. His hands were much bigger than mine. I slowly
started lowering it, but not back to the bedside. "Do you want to feel it?"
I asked, my voice taking on a husky quality as I whispered. Dale nodded
fervently.

I tucked his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and released his
hand. I could feel his fingertips beginning to parse my pubes. A twitch: my
boxers came down a fraction of an inch. My trimmed pubes peeked out over
the top. He got his fingers even lower. I put my hands behind my back and
hooked my thumbs into the waistband as well, helping him lower my boxers
evenly at his own pace.

Part of my shaft was exposed now. He saw the girth of it and an audible
moan escaped his lips. I smiled at him. I wondered how much that smile
resembled Rick's wolfish smile when I was so drawn to his dick all those
years ago.

Dale decided he was done being patient and pulled them down a little
quicker. When my manhood sprang free, a slimy trail of precum flew through
the air. He was so close, about half of it landed in his chest hair. The
other half landed on his chin and lips. His tongue darted out to taste the
offering. He seemed to enjoy it and looked up at me expectantly. I waited
for a moment, watching another bead of precum gather at my slit, get too
heavy to support itself, and drip slowly into his chest hair.

"Do you want to taste it?" I asked. He didn't anwer, but leaned forward to
take as much of my dick as he could, which was not all of it. As he went, I
pressed my hands into the small of my back and leaned back to enjoy it. He
came off my dick to speak.

"Don't cum in my mouth. I - I want -"

He stumbled over the words, so I took a guess. "You want me to fuck you?"
He froze, but nodded. "Don't worry," I told him, guiding his head back onto
my dick. "I'm nowhere near cumming."

He pulled off again after about five minutes, seemingly thinking I had shot
my load in his mouth despite the agreement.

"Just precum," I said, taking my dick and squeezing out a long string of it
for him. He watched it, mesmerized, and leaned in to catch it with his
tongue before it broke. After slurping the precum away, he pulled off to
speak again.

"I think I'm ready."

I reached over to my bedside table and opened the drawer. It was astounding
to me that after years of keeping my sexual activities my deepest, darkest
secret and having so little privacy that I either didn't have a bedroom, or
did but couldn't close the door to it, I was now able to not only buy my
own condoms and lube, but to keep those supplies next to my bed for easy
access with no repercussions.

I passed him the condom. It was actually my first time using one. My high
school sex ed class had never gotten this in-depth and I didn't want to
seem inexperienced here, so I made it seem like part of the light dom/sub
thing we had going on. I watched carefully as he slid it over the head,
piching the tip of the condom before unrolling it all the way. I was
confident I wouldn't have any trouble doing that myself.

As soon as the condom was on, I squirted a little bit of lube onto the
index finger of my right hand and reached down to rub it in his crack. I
had never used lube before, but I had a general idea of what to do. I was
more accustomed to doing this with my own precum. I really liked his
ass. The cheeks were smooth, but his crack had a bit of darker hair running
down it.

I thought back to Terry, the first man to actually fuck my ass, as I
slipped the finger into Dale's asshole. He whimpered in a slightly
performative way that I thought was meant to make it clear to me not to
stop. He certainly didn't seem interested in the prospect of me
stopping. When I slipped my finger in a little further to find his
prostate, I found another surprise: he had pre-lubed.

I pulled my finger out slowly and looked him in the eye. "I'm curious," I
said with a wry smile. "Did you lube yourself up before coming over or am I
not your first today?"

He smiled back. "I had a plug in all morning for this," he answered, his
nerves suddenly as lubricated as his hole. "You told me you were seven
inches and thick, and I needed to be ready."

I got behind him and gently slapped my dick against his hole. "Let's see
how ready, then."

And I leaned forward, pushing myself in. The last ass I had fucked was my
buddy Gary's. Despite being a virgin, Gary was nowhere near as
tight. Dale's body was squeezing me, pulling me in but barring me entry at
the same time. He pushed back against me, arching his back and releasing a
deep breath I hadn't realized he was holding.

It was almost like he had melted. Any resistance I had felt was gone. My
pubes were mingling with the hair of his crack in an instant. He let out a
gasp that I assumed was probably more pain than pleasure. Had I realized he
was about to relax, I would have applied a lot less pressure. I whispered
an apology. He grunted back, "My fault." I waited, not wanting to move
until he was ready for it. After a moment, he said through gritted teeth,
"Fuck me."

I was shocked at how little the condom dulled the pleasure. Perhaps it was
due to things I had heard from sexually active friends or the media, but I
had had this illusion that sex with a condom was just not as good. It was
no different to me. Or, perhaps, it had been so long since I had
experienced this that the sensation was bubbling over. I wondered how
quickly I would have emptied my load in his ass if we had done this
bareback and was glad for the condom, whether it was helping me keep going
or not.

I wasn't keeping track of the time, but after what seemed like 10 long
minutes, Dale grunted a question that broke me out of the reverie I was
in. I only heard him the second time he asked. "Can we change positions?"

He flipped around and lay back on my bed, stuffing a wad of blankets under
his right hip as he did so. I moved into position and he leaned further
left, lifting his right leg to my left shoulder.

I was always a sucker for hairy legs. This large, muscular, fuzzy calf by
my face was absolutely no exception. I nuzzled and kissed it as I made my
re-entry. Dale's eyes rolled. I preferred this position over doggy, and it
seemed he did too. There was a point - about an inch before I was all the
way in - that caused him to gasp and twitch every time the ridge of my
cockhead passed it. I made sure to pay it some extra attention, pulling out
and pushing in about a half inch in either direction. His reaction made it
clear I was hitting his prostate. I enjoyed watching it.

He shifted a bit, pulling his right knee toward his chest. I shifted to
match so I could keep hitting his prostate the same way. With no more
conscious thought than I was giving to my thrusting rhythm, I began playing
with his nipples with my left hand. His pecs were larger, more defined than
mine. They were less hairy, but still a sight to behold. I placed my right
hand on his throat. It wasn't a choking grasp; more a statement of
ownership. I could feel his pulse pounding. I could feel his muscles
tightening and relaxing as I pressed his buttons. My right hand travelled
up his throat to his chin. He had clearly shaved that morning, but it was
nearing evening and the blond stubble there was just faintly visible. From
there, my hand moved to his left shoulder, starting at the outside and
kneading my way back in. His traps were impressive. I squeezed it
nonchalantly, causing him to give his loudest grunt yet.

I shushed him quietly while continuing to thrust and withdraw. "Fuck,
you're so tight," I hissed as he clamped down on me. I tilted my head back,
focusing on the world-erasing pleasure I felt from his loosened ass
constricting my thick erection. He was shaking. It only added to the
sensation. I found, suddenly, that I didn't care how much longer he wanted
to go. I was fast approaching the point of no return, and taking it slower
would only make him squeeze me more. I needed to pound him to hold my
orgasm at bay. So I did. I released his shoulder and picked up the
pace. His moans went from long, low, grunts to short, sharp "Ah, ah, ah"s.

His hole seemed made for my pleasure, and in the moment, it felt absolutely
right to unleash my pleasure in it. I didn't stop pounding, but I did add
my own grunts to his as I filled the condom so much it leaked out onto my
balls and his crack. I kept brainlessly thrusting, my cock practically
screaming in protest at the overstimulation. I ran my hands across his big
pecs, tweaking his nipples, and down his happy trail toward his dick when I
realized my hand was covered in cum, too.

I asked in utter confusion, "Were you beating off?" I felt like that would
have been something I remembered.

He shook his head, then said, in a strained whisper: "Can you stop? I'm
getting really fucking sensitive."

I stopped thrusting. Slightly embarrassed, I began slowly pulling out of
him. When my cock came free with a pop, I bent down and kissed his furry
abs, cleaning the cum out of his hair as best I could. When I straightened
up, he gestured towards the glistening remnants of cum on his flat belly.

"Is that normal for you?" he asked.

I blanched a little. "Sorry," I said, shrugging. "I've been sucking dick
long enough to really enjoy the taste."

He shook his head, his eyes a little unfocused. "I meant making me cum
without touching my dick. That has never - not from getting fucked -
never. Never happened to me before." He gulped in air as he spoke,
interrupting himself and pausing to catch his breath again. "I can't even
fucking see straight, man."

I slid off the bed and stood next to him, gently tugging off the condom and
dropping it into the trash bin beside my bed. I was still hard. I turned to
walk to my little closet, meaning to grab a rag so we could wipe ourselves
down. Dale grabbed my hip and said, "Wait."

He slid off the bed, too, and buried his face in my crotch, sucking the
leaked cum off my balls and thighs. "Tastes so fucking good, man."

He started sucking my still-erect cock. It was too much to handle, so I
pushed him off with a whispered, "Sorry, I'm too sensitive for that too."
He nodded, then stood up, stumbling slightly. I opened my bedroom door and
poked my head out, listening for any signs my roommate might be
home. Satisfied, I said, "Let's shower up."

He avoided getting his hair wet, focusing on cleaning off his belly, dick,
and ass. I did the same, and we made our way back into my room, where he
got fully dressed and I pulled on only a pair of blue gym shorts that
didn't really disguise the fact that I was still half-hard. I'd had them
since high school. They were a little too small on me now due to the size
of my more-muscular thighs and ass, but they were extremely flattering. I
could even wear them to the gym without arousing suspicion, since I was
definitely a grower, not a show-er. If I wore boxer briefs or spandex under
my shorts, very little bulge was visible at all.

When he was dressed, I led him toward the door. We exchanged some
pleasantries.

"Hope we can do this again soon."

"Definitely, man."

He walked out into the common area, and then opened the outer door and
left. When I heard it close behind him, I walked over to my window and
opened it. It smelled like lube and sweat. I decided I didn't hate the
smell. I managed to take one good deep breath before I heard a knock at the
door.

I thought it might be Dale, so I went to answer it without pulling on a
shirt first. It wasn't Dale though, but Sergeant Jackson.

The cocky smile slid from my face. "Oh, hey, Sergeant," I said. "Good
afternoon."

"Hey, Foreman," he said, looking over his shoulder at the stairs down to
the ground level of our barracks building. "Who was that that just left?
Making friends already?"

I shrugged. "No idea. He was looking for Rogers." I nodded toward my
roommate's door.

Sergeant Jackson shrugged, then looked me up and down. "I was gonna ask if
you wanted to hit the gym together, but you clearly just got back from a
workout." I wasn't sure if his eyes lingered on my bulging dick, but I was
suddenly self-conscious. He didn't comment on it further, though. "I know
you don't really know anyone here yet. Want to come over and play the new
Monster Hunter with me?"

I didn't actually want to spend the rest of the day alone, so I
agreed. "Yeah, lemme grab a shirt first, Sergeant."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought the better of
it. He stuck his foot out to hold the door open as I released it and turned
into my bedroom. I don't know whether it was my imagination, a trick of the
light, or real, but I thought I saw, in the corner of my eye, his tongue
dart across those famous, alleged dick-sucking lips.