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There are guys like me out there
for Bonila145
I’d been late all day — late for morning chow, in the latrine too long, and late for Physical Training on the afterdeck. All I heard, hour after hour, was screaming from the sergeants.
How I ended up in the Army, I’d never know. At only 5’2″, I thought I was too short for the draft, but in 1942, the physical test for the US Army was, “You got two arms? You got two legs? You pass!”
As I went through Basic Training, Infantry training, and found myself climbing aboard a troop ship in San Francisco in 1943, something in the back of my mind sorta bothered me. I grew up on a farm in Kansas. Never saw a naked man. Oh, maybe once or twice when Pa took a leak, a few times when the boys went skinny-dipping in Japhus Pond. But never like the Army. Dozens of nude men in the showers every morning, many wandering around the latrine bare as they shaved and brushed their teeth.
Bothered me, sorta. Nowadays, being “gay” is a known thing, not so strange. Back in 1943 I couldn’t even spell homosexual. No such thing as far as I was concerned. I figured myself as normal as any guy, just that I was fascinated by cocks. Even before I knew what to call them.
Life aboard the US Navy troopship Docipetus had been awful for several weeks. We had no real idea where we were going except somewhere in the south Pacific. Only scuttlebutt “knew.” One version said we were on our way to Hawaii. When the weather grew too hot, we figured we were on our way to Guadalcanal, Pelileu, dozens of places. We had rifle drills, physical training, etc, etc, but man, time on the Pecitus was boring! A gray metal prison, a steel cage floating us to death and hell.
I had a lot of time to think.
One evening I was really hungry. Stomach rumbling. The Navy fed us aboard ship, and I wondered if I might find a friendly cook. I waited until the MP guards (on watch to keep us in the Army area) were distracted, and I slipped out into the ship’s passageways.
I actually did blunder upon a ship’s kitchen, and I asked the cook for a little snack. He looked from side to side then gave me a Spam sandwich. Nuts. The mess area was empty, so I took a seat at one of the cold metal tables. While I sat eating, he brought me a cup of coffee and a small dish of warm German potato salad (that’s what my mother called it, but in those days it was “Liberty potato salad”).
I took a deep breath. The frenzy of the day was over, and we were cruising on smooth seas. I shrugged the tension out of my shoulders. Good coffee. For some reason Navy java always tasted good.
“You one of them soldiers? What you doin’ here?” Deep voice. I turned to look. Damn. Very muscular sailor. Very dirty. Covered with black grease.
From the dark stains on his shirt, I figured he was one of the Black Gang — the engine room crew, mechanics, stokers, dirtiest job on the ship. But that filthy tank-top undershirt showed off thick, well-shaped shoulders and arms, and, jeez, his meaty hands nearly hid his coffee mug. It hit me I’d never been so close to such a big guy.
Curls of thick, dark, oily hair sprouted out of his shirt (shrunk from many launderings and tight on his firm chest muscles). Thick nipples poked through the thin material. I gulped, then realized I was staring. I took a drink of my own coffee.
But I couldn’t help but look back at the contours of that thin shirt over his lean belly and on into the well-worn crotch of his jeans. (Sailors’ duty uniform was bluejeans. We had to wear green fatigue pants). I didn’t really want to — it wasn’t “decent” — but as I took a bite of the sandwich, I noticed the bulge below his belt. Damn, what a man.
As I looked into his blue eyes, I got a strange feeling, and my cock twitched. Damn, never met such a handsome man! Well, he wasn’t “handsome,” really. More like Masculine. Powerful. Strong. Virile.
My bazooka hardened in my pants. Damn, what’s coming over me? “Yeah, I’m with XIV Corps.” I smiled. “You know where we’re headed?”
He smiled back. Not a handsome smile. Bad teeth. But something, something about him had a powerful effect. Like in my wet dreams. Incredible feeling: lust rose out of my balls as I sat in the flamethrower of his smile. That voice again: “No, I dunno. An’ even if I did, I couldn’t tell ya.”
Everything about the man gave me chills up my back. Voice like a pipe organ. He went on: “It’s been a rough couple of weeks for all of us. You wonderin’ where we’re goin’, us wonderin’ if we’ll get there…” He paused. “Maybe I don’t need to tell ya. I know how bad it is down in them Army quarters.”
I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t stop soaking in his manly beauty. Almost with every movement, his biceps flexed, beefy muscles rippled under the hair of those dirty arms, and – Damn! — I breathed the musk of his sweat.
As he went on talking, my horny mind ran amok, slipping off his dirty shirt, touching those nipples, Betturkey touching that damp chest hair. And tugging on his belt buckle, pulling down his pants—What. The. Hell?? What am I thinking?? Am I becoming a—what do they call them—Queer??
He paused. “You a little dis-tracted. Anythin’ wrong?”
“Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“S’all right. I ain’t been myself, neither.”
My turn to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. “I’m, uh, not all that talkative… but you seem like a friendly guy.” I felt my fatigue shirt damp with sweat. From the heat of the day, right? But a powerful desire burned inside. What a handsome—no, not handsome—what a manlyguy!
Just then the cook passed by, and when he noticed my companion, he smiled. “You boys take your time. You have a lot in common.” He gave me a big wink.
A wink? What was all that about?
We both nibbled at our sandwiches. Finally: “How do you keep so trim?” My voice was weak. Nothing like his. He looked up, and I went on, “How do you, uh, have such a well-developed body?” Damn, my voice is still wimpish.
“Oh, I was pretty active at the fact’ry. Moving iron around, weldin’ a lot of steel. Workin’ in the Black Gang here keeps ya in shape, too.” He laughed. “Nothin’ like shovelin’ coal.” He flexed an arm, and his biceps rose up like a volcano.
“Damn, I’m impressed.” I wished I hadn’t said that. “Could you show me some exercises?” That wasn’t really planned, either. I didn’t care about body-building, I just had to have something to cover up the stupid I’m impressed.
He looked at the name tag on my fatigue shirt. “Well, Potter” — he lowered his voice — “Why dontcha go with me to where I got some weights stashed away? I’ll show ya some o’ my workout tricks.”
“What’s your name?”
“Manley”—
Manly?? Judas Priest!–-
“Thomas Manley. I don’t wear no nametag on my undershirt while I’m down shovelin’ the coal, but there it is, M-a-n-l-e-y.”
“That’s nice of you, Tom, but I don’t want to impose” — but I couldn’t help myself — “Yeah, I’d like to see how you keep in such good shape.” And as I spoke, I couldn’t stop imagining what Tom looked like without his undershirt. And without his pants.
My dong stirred at the thought of slowly slipping off his bluejeans and fondling his nuts. What in holy hell’s come over me?? I’ve never had such horny thoughts about a man!
Tom caught my eye. “What ya thinkin’ about, Potter?” He smiled. “Lemme show my stuff to ya right now.” He lowered his voice. “And I bet ya wouldn’t turn down a beer. I got a li’l secret stash up in the anchor locker.”
He led me through the gray passageways to the very prow of the ship, where he opened the hatch to a rusty, damp compartment holding machinery and huge chains. “Not much to speak of, but I come here when I got — special business.”
I followed him inside. Under a stack of crates, he pulled out two bottles of Beer. Blatz. East-coast stuff.Wish he had a bottle of good Kansas City Goetz. He handed me one. “Sorry they ain’t cold.” I took it and turned to look at the huge gears.
He moved behind me, and I felt the nearness of him, his breath warm on my neck, and I caught the scent from his armpits. I hardened, thinking his cock and scrotum are close enough to touch, if I just reach back. What the hell am I thinking?? Touching another man’s genitals?? Am I a queer?
Tom touched me, though. His hand on my shoulder moved me around so we were face to face. He brought his face close to mine. “Time for ya to get comfortable, Potter. It’s hot in here.” He took hold of my shirt with one while the other touched my throat in a gentle caress. His fingers pulled open the top button and reached in to stroke the curls of my chest hair. His fingers were warm, rough, and — masterful.
One button fell open, then another, and suddenly I realized what was happening. He’s stripping me! But deep inside, I was not surprised; I’d suspected it. My throbbing shaft told me I’d been hoping for it! Time seemed to stop as Tom pulled loose one button after another, and when the shirt was open enough, one of his fingers rubbed my nipple, bringing the soft skin to stiffness, something I didn’t know could happen!
When he pulled and pinched it, jolts of craving — and pleasure — shot down to my balls. My dickhead thrust against my white Army boxers, tight against my fatigue pants, and I was horny!
Then something happened I could not have imagined in a thousand years: Tom brought his face closer, closer, closer – and his lips touched mine! He kissed me! He pulled me close to him, overpowering me, blending my horny fantasy with reality: The strip is just the beginning — he’ll have his way with me!
My brain on fire, I wanted to feel him, wanted to feel his bare, hairy, sweaty skin. I reached around, grabbed the hem of his undershirt, and pulled it up until it slid over his chest and pulled free from his massive arms. We broke Betturkey Giriş the kiss as I pulled it over his head.
Mine dropped back and fell to the floor. Our shirts came off at about the same moment, and he pulled me hard into his naked chest, his coarse body hair against mine. Then the kiss grew fierce. I shoved my tongue through his lips, probing deep in his mouth, the stout wetness of his tongue coming back at mine. He sucked forcefully on my tongue, pulling me deep inside him.
The fetid musk of men was all about us, thick, heavy, and overpowering. I lost all control. All instinct to protect myself faded away. Tom’s hands released me from the embrace to pass lightly over my body, across the fur on my chest, down my belly, and finally his hands were on my belt, loosening it. One clever hand pulled open the buttons of my fly. The kiss went on, but I held my breath.
He reached in deep to grope my balls, cupping them in the cotton fabric. Ahh, god! In his hand, they felt more like bollocks, the old word, heavy, swollen, churning inside with his hand on them! I’d never felt anything so erotic, so stimulating, so wonderful in my life!
Then the hand probed around, found the slit in the front of my boxers, and reached through. Unbelievable! He ran a finger slowly around the rim of my cock-flare, feeling every curve, the double-bumps at the bottom, every part, and the finger tickled my piss slit, by then drooling precum, slimy and juicy with it. He electrified every nerve in my body.
Blood pulsed into my erection until the skin stretched tight, my foreskin pulled back, exposing all my nerves to his slow caresses and fondlings. Ohh, Tom, my god! I could feel it coming. My family jewels rose in their sack, getting ready.
Tom broke the kiss once more, and his mouth moved close to my ear. “Gonna take ya, Potter. Ya made me so horny I gotta have ya.” His mouth nipped at my earlobe, and his tongue ran over my jaw.
In a second, my fatigue pants crumpled over my boots, and his hands yanked down my shorts. My prick caught on the band of my boxers, pulling it down horizontal for a moment — it was too fucking much! With one final groan, I cummed!
Bliss! Giant spurts of cloudy white shot out of my meat, blasting over Tom’s hand onto his bluejeans, and he froze for a second, looking down, a little disappointed. I suppose he thought I was such a wimp, I couldn’t control myself. I was past caring. I was in the mightiest jackoff climax I’d ever had. When I opened my eyes, his face was inches away. “Nice finish, Potter.”
I knew I should’ve been humiliated, ashamed, but I was too, too fucking drunk with rapture. My knees were weak, and Tom lowered me onto a pile of coiled ropes. While I lay there moaning, my softening boner drooling out the final oozes, Tom’s hands reached under to fondle my buns — “Nice ass, Potter” — then he reached down to unlace my boots.
This is shameful. We could get court-martialed for this! But I lay there, spread out for him, holding out my legs to him. I wanted to be au naturel for him, anything he wanted.
“So ya started without me, did ya, Potter?” He gripped my slowly softening pole (which started on its way back up). “We ain’t even to the Main Act yet.”
The front of his bluejeans bulged big with his own urgent, rampant manhood, and a rush of pride ran through me. He was hot for me. I reached for Tom’s belt, ready to strip him of his bluejeans, eager to feel his brawny, naked cock – but I bit my lip. Feeling another man’s pecker was something I’d never done. But, then, I’d never felt such desire. My heart pounded in my chest.
He stepped back from me, yanking down his jeans by himself, and I stared. Once out and free, his thick meat bounced hard, athletic, and menacing above huge gonads, a hairy sack like a tobacco pouch. A thick mat of hair covered his groin and marched up his belly, just like I dreamed it would.
“Damn, ya make me hot, Potter.” I actually blushed, not used to someone admiring my body, let alone when I was bare-assed with a raging hardon. Especially when the admirer stood a couple feet away, also stripped, also with hearty member pointing up at me.
His was a real cannon. Much bigger than mine. Longer, thicker. And he was horny. A drool of precum slithered down from it. “We’re ready, Potter.”
He took me in his arms, his energy against me, his cock stiff and hot against mine, and he kissed me again, more softly. He plowed his hips into me. “I want ya so bad right now.”
He pushed me gently back onto the pile of ropes and kissed me again, deeper, his tongue pushing my mouth open, sucking and fondling my tongue with his, his lusty, protective arms on either side of me. I reached up to feel his biceps, their firmness, their strength, their size. My fingers explored his furry armpits, wallowing in the sweat. Then I pinched his nipples, feeling their tenderness, their heat. As he had done to me, I pulled Betturkey Güncel Giriş and stroked the erotic tips, and like me, Tom moaned and sighed.
I realized at that moment that he’d pushed open a door for me. I was not betraying feelings I grew up with — that I thought I liked girls and that I was just “interested” in healthy male bodies — but somehow I had moved beyond them. Tom himself sent me soaring into the sky, and as I pleasured him in return, I knew I liked men.
Son of a bitch. I like men!!
I wanted Tom with a fever. My stiffie – funny how familiar everything had become — ached, begging for release, and I. Had. To. Have. Sex. with the hairy sailor. But suddenly a fear. I didn’t exactly know what to do. I knew the mechanics of it, of course, but how do I get him to…? What if he doesn’t want to? How do I seduce…?
What would it feel like to have a colossal, hairy man ram his hard cock deep into my ass, filling me with his power, taking me as I opened up for him? Could I let this man possess me with his wild masculinity? Yeah. I wanted that. I wanted to hold his hairy chest hard against mine, to feel his thick, wet pelt of hair rub against me, to feel his hips pummeling against my butt, his undeniable manhood lunging deep inside me.
What would it feel like when his big bollocks erupted inside me, drenching me with his manly jism, his seed? I wanted to know.
But what would that feel like? I knew what intercourse felt like, of course. Your dick catches fire, and you burn up in the ecstasy of her pussy. But what does it feel like to get it up the ass?
Would I get more than just something gouging up my asshole? I’d stuck my finger up my butt once or twice (who hasn’t?), but it wasn’t much of a thrill – and I had a stinky finger.
I thought about that. A sweating, panting man lunging his hard cock inside me wasn’t the same thing. I would hear his moans and gasps as his orgasm built deep inside him. I wanted to hear that. Yeah, I wanted to feel his big staff stretching my asshole and erupting inside me. I wanted to hear him panting my name as he emptied his load.
We faced each other naked, and I gulped. My first time with a man. I didn’t quite know how to start. I decided to let him make the first move.
He stepped back and looked down. “Potter. I want ya now, and I’m gonna take ya.” His eyes were thrilling, filled with the instinct for the kill, for the conquest, a horny need, and that made me proud and eager myself. I reached down for his cock, and it oozed precum in my hand. My cock-grab was a sign of submission, and I trembled. It was going to happen.
He pushed me back and with a hand under each knee, he lifted my legs, pushing them against my chest, rolling my backside up into range of that monster cock. He mounted me.
Oh, shit, my first fuck! A scared (but eager) virgin, I reached down to grab his butt-cheeks and pull them toward me. I couldn’t wait.
On entry, he slid in deep, slowly, stretching my sphincter, filling me. He was thick. Hot. A fat piston. When his cockcrown pushed past my prostate, it sent yet another gush of precum out of me. It hurt, yeah, it hurt, but somehow it was like — dues. Dues I had to pay to get into the club, to learn what I’d always wanted to know.
Tom took me completely, deep in my ass, his thick, coarse cockhair pushing my balls up against the root of my dick, and he began to stick it to me. With each lunge, his hot, wet belly hair rubbed against my own erection, sending me closer to cumming.
He found his rhythm and soon his nuts slapped against my ass in a steady beat, a squishy sound along with the grunts and panting of two naked men making love. My nose filled with the spicy smells of his armpits and body, ever riper and stronger with the heat of his lust.
At first an uncomfortable pain, his fucking gradually became a strange sort of pain-pleasure, and the combination made a new sensation, a sort of ultimate-male feeling. Pain as pleasure! Finally my own lust made me thrust back against him with each of his lunges, and our hips found another rhythm, our natural rhythm together.
I gripped Tom’s biceps, my climax coming closer, the tension building to the boiling point, to the point of no return! Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed, everything became a blaze of red as Tom pounded away above me, drenching both of us in sweat. The slaps of hairy wet balls and our gasps turned to grunts and loud moans we climbed to the explosion.
With a loud snarl, Tom burst inside me, a torrent of boiling conquest filling me up, expanding thick inside me, and he triggered my own orgasm. I raved, I screamed, I writhed under him in a mind-boggling, titanic, breathtaking ecstasy from my asshole!! Who knew? Ohmigod, who knew??
A lunatic rapture also grew from my balls, burning up to unbearable pleasure in my cock, and my spunk shot out to splatter up against his still-heaving belly. I never, never had such ecstasy, such bliss, such delight! I craved the fiery feeling coming from the plunging meat spreading wide my asshole, and the sensation of another man’s load shooting up into me taught me the ultimate degree of sexual pleasure. I was intoxicated.
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