MEN, MUSCLE, and MAYHEM (12 page)

With the position of authority firmly established, they marched Masters over to the sling, lifted him into it, and secured his wrists and ankles, so he was on his back with his powerful legs spread. Surprisingly, the drill instructor’s cock got even harder once he was restrained, and almost reached its full eleven by seven inches, when Boneman clamped two clothespins on Masters’ large hot-wired nipples. Boneman grabbed the huge dick, gave it a good squeeze, and said, “Too bad you’re such a bottom pussy, motherfucker.”

Firestone’s thick seven-inch cock was standing straight up at this point as he awaited his next order, and Boneman’s eight inches were almost at full staff, too.

“Bring me that tin container over there,” Boneman ordered as he pointed to the table of supplies. “And that black rubber glove, too.”

Masters’ eyes popped open.

Boneman looked right at him, and said, “I want to see if my fist’ll fit up this big hairy hole of yours. Think you can take it, old man?”

Masters didn’t answer, but gave him a look that practically said, “I’ll kill you when this is all over with.”

Firestone brought over the tin container and the black rubber glove and stood there watching as Boneman picked up the glove, then discarded it, and then opened up the container, scooping a handful of white grease into his right hand. He then slathered it liberally over his hand before he aimed for the sergeant’s hole. He dispensed with pleasantries and decided to begin with two fingers, and the sergeant grunted for the first time, acknowledging the intrusion.

“What do you want me to do?” Firestone asked dumbly.

“How about you keep him quiet.”

“How?”

“Stick that thick cock of yours in his mouth … that should shut him up,” Boneman suggested.

Firestone then positioned himself at Masters’ head and grabbed his face, opened the older man’s mouth and stuffed his stiff rod clear down to the hilt. He then fucked the sergeant’s face with long, slow strokes, enjoying the warm feeling.

“Careful he doesn’t bite the head off. If he tries, just punch him in the face,” Boneman told his buddy.

Boneman then inserted a third finger, and Masters’ dick twitched, and his groan was muffled, but he didn’t clamp down on the thick meat he was sucking. Firestone kept up his rhythm as Boneman inserted another finger, making it four total. Again, Masters groaned, and Firestone’s eyes rolled up. Boneman noticed Firestone’s expression and barked, “Don’t come yet, dumb ass, I’m just getting started.”

Boneman rolled his four fingers around, loosening up the hairy muscular hole, and slowly introduced his thumb. With that, Masters muffled a scream or was it a yell, and with Firestone’s cock now resting in his mouth rather than pumping as he was trying to hold off, one couldn’t tell. But, Boneman was not done. He then slowly worked his fist into the ass of his former drill instructor, and with a slow but steady motion, worked it all the way in, past his wrist and almost halfway up his forearm. Boneman’s cock released a long stream of precum that dangled to the floor; Firestone’s eyes lit up at the sight of his buddy’s arm up Masters’ asshole; and Masters’ eyes rolled up as his dick started to swell then twitch rapidly.

Firestone lost it first as the sight before him and the mouth on his hot cock was too much for the horny little muscleman. His cock shot a hefty load into the sergeant’s mouth that the older man eagerly swallowed without missing a drop. And, that was enough to send Masters over the edge as the fist up his ass, the clothespins on his nipples, and the sweet load in his mouth made his eleven-inch cock twitch violently until he came clear up to his neck without even touching himself.

There was a lot of panting as Firestone removed his cock from Masters’ mouth, and Boneman was the only one who still had full balls.

“Damn, did I give anyone permission to come!” Boneman yelled.

“Fuck you, prick,” Masters said.

With that Boneman removed his fist from the sergeant’s ass, walked over to the side of the sling, and punched him repeatedly in the stomach, which wasn’t easy considering Masters was still in a supine position. Again, the rock hard abs against his fist turned Boneman on, and as he felt the load work its way out of his balls and up the length of his cock, he grabbed it and aimed for Masters’ face, releasing a load that was heftier than the two released by the other men.

“Now, who’s the prick, motherfucker?” Boneman said as he shook the last of his spunk out of his still-raging cock and onto the older man’s mouth.

Masters just looked at him and smiled. Boneman let out a little grin also, and Firestone couldn’t control himself any longer, saying, “Fuck, that was hot.”

“Damn, if you don’t stop breaking scene, Firestone, I am gonna stick my whole foot up your ass!” Boneman said, almost seriously.

“Promise?” Firestone asked with a smile.

# # # # #

After cleaning up, the three men were sitting in Masters’ living room drinking a few beers and finishing one of the three pizzas they ordered. They were all wearing nothing but their boxers, and the pizza delivery guy had given them a curious look, but seeing the muscles on the three men, decided not to say anything, just collect his money and leave.

“So, how long to retirement?” Boneman asked.

“Four weeks,” Masters answered as he took a swig of his beer.

“We’ll be in Afghanistan by then,” Firestone said with a sorrowful look.

Masters looked at the two young men he had trained not too long ago, and he felt a heaviness in his heart at the thought of them going off to war, but he was not one to get sentimental, at least not outwardly. He also silently prayed they would be OK and be able to see him again when they returned.

“Man have I got to take a piss,” Masters announced as he stood up.

Firestone looked at him, then at Boneman, and got up from the couch and walked to the bathroom. Masters followed him, and Boneman did the same. When they arrived in the bathroom, Firestone was in the tub, naked and leaning on the wall.

Without saying a word, Masters dropped his boxers, whipped out his monster meat and aimed for the little muscleman, covering him with his hot stream. Boneman, positioned himself beside the sergeant, dropped his own boxers, put his arm around Masters’ waist and added to Firestone’s golden shower. Boneman then looked up at the sergeant, who then looked down at him and planted his mouth on the young jarhead’s, driving his tongue inside and enjoying the taste of beer and pizza while they continued spraying their buddy, who by now was stroking his cock at the sight before him and the feeling of warm piss all over him.

WHO’S THE DADDY?

Wayne left work his usual time and drove home not thinking about much of anything. Lately, he had been in a funk. He didn’t know why. His career was going great. He was in a happy loving relationship with a hot man twenty years his junior, and although he was fifty-five years old, he had the body of a man in his twenties. Wayne was over six-feet tall with 200 pounds of silver-fur covered muscle and a tight bubble-butt that would be the envy and desire of any man at any age. But, even with all he had going for him, he sighed as he pulled into the driveway.

He opened the front door and looked down to see his thirty-five-year-old partner, Marty, on all fours in the living room wearing nothing but a dog collar, a leash and a leather cock ring. Wayne looked at him and gave a faint smile. Normally, he would be up for some puppy play, but he couldn’t muster the energy to train his dog today.

Wayne walked past the living room into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Marty stood up and followed him. Marty was four inches taller and had twenty-five more pounds of muscle than Wayne, and the cock ring only added to the allure of his long, thick cock and heavy balls. He had dark features and jet black hair, and his body was smooth with just a touch of black hair in between his mountainous pecs that trailed down to his thick black pubic hair. He kept his huge balls shaved smooth, and Wayne kept Marty’s crack shaved smooth as well, for he preferred it that way.

“Don’t you want to play with me?” Marty asked as he licked Wayne’s neck.

Wayne shrugged away. “I’m sorry, Babe, another time. I’m just not in the mood right now.” He closed the refrigerator door after grabbing a beer, looked at Marty and grabbed the younger man’s balls. “It’s not you. It could never be you.”

Marty’s cock responded as it always did to Wayne’s touch, but he knew that this was not the time to push his partner – or beg. Wayne released his balls and turned to look out the kitchen window while drinking his beer.

They had been together for over ten years, and each knew the other better than the back of his own hand. They knew when the other was not in the mood, and neither would push or whine just to play, probably because they played almost all the time and rarely were not in the mood. And, play they did – from puppy play to water sports, fisting, light bondage, heavy bondage, ball torture – you name it. But, no matter how they played, Wayne was always the dominant one, and Marty the submissive, and they took to their roles with relish.

Marty turned from the kitchen and went upstairs to change. A less secure partner would be hurt by the rejection, but Marty knew Wayne was in a funk. The problem was this funk seemed to last longer than usual as they had not played in over a week – an eternity for them. He went into the bedroom, took off the collar and cock ring and put on a pair of sweatpants. Wayne entered the bedroom as Marty was tying the drawstring. He walked up to him, put his hand on the back of his head and kissed him long and hard. Again, Marty’s cock responded. Wayne released his lips from Marty and looked down at the hefty bulge.

“God, you’re a sexy motherfucker,” he said to Marty with a smile.

Marty smiled back at him and said, “Why don’t you go out tonight? Maybe you need to get some fresh air. I’ll be all right. I have some more work to do anyway.” Marty was a writer of gay erotica, and he worked from home and often into the night, so it was not unusual for him to suggest Wayne go out on his own.

“You sure?”

“Yeah … besides you seem a little distracted lately. Why don’t you go to The Falcon. I hear the fleet is in town,” Marty said with a grin.

Wayne agreed. He stripped off his business clothes, and although it had been a decade, Marty still got a thrill looking at his silver-fur covered muscular lover as he walked to the shower. He thought about joining him but decided it was best to leave Wayne alone.

Within an hour, Wayne was on his way to The Falcon, and Marty was tapping away at his computer.

The Falcon was the town’s oldest leather bar, and on some nights, Wayne and Marty could swear there were still patrons there from opening night. However, The Falcon’s location was advantageous as it was located near the Norfolk Naval Station, and when the fleet was in, it was hopping with hunky sailors looking for a good time.

Upon Marty’s suggestion, Wayne dressed low key this evening and was wearing jeans, a black leather belt, a black T-shirt, and black motorcycle boots. He also decided to go commando, but that didn’t stop him from putting on a leather studded cock-ring that Marty had recently bought for him. He entered The Falcon, nodded at a few familiar faces and seated himself at the bar. No sooner had he ordered a beer, when a hunky blond, who was obviously a sailor, sat next to him. Having served in the Navy, Wayne could spot a sailor from a mile away. Marty had also served in the Navy and was still a sailor when he met Wayne.

“What’s your rate?” Wayne asked knowing that the word ‘rank’ did not apply to Navy enlisted men.

“Senior Chief Petty Officer,” the blond responded in an equally hunky voice. “You must have served.”

“Twenty years … Master Chief Petty Officer,” Wayne responded.

“I guess that makes you the Daddy,” the hunk said as he swigged his beer.

Wayne smiled but did not respond.

“So, Master Chief Petty Officer, what are you looking for tonight?”

Wayne took a good long look at the hunk. He was thickly muscled, not unlike Marty, but with piercing blue eyes rather than Marty’s green eyes. He had to be no older than thirty.

“What’s your name, sailor?”

“Adam, and yours, Daddy?”

“Wayne,” he told him while his eyes trailed down to the large basket that strained the crotch of his jeans. Adam was wearing a white T-shirt that hid little of his physique, and Wayne liked what he saw, but again, he just wasn’t in the mood. “I have a partner … we have an understanding … but I’m just not in the mood to play Daddy tonight … I hope you understand.”

Adam looked right at Wayne, put his hand on Wayne’s crotch and said, “Good. Because I’m not in the mood to play boy.” He gave Wayne a squeeze, released him and looked up at the TV screen, which was showing some reality nonsense no one cared to watch.

Wayne took a swig of his beer, and suddenly he was intrigued. He had never played submissive. He never had to. His hair had gone prematurely gray, and for as long as he was into the scene, he gladly played the Daddy. Being with Marty was easy because as big as Marty was, he loved being the boy. This was a huge turn-on when they first met as Wayne never dated anyone taller than he, especially someone who was also more muscular, and finding a muscleboy who enjoyed taking orders was a treat indeed. They were also madly in love with each other, but they always had an understanding. They knew men were pigs and monogamy was near impossible. The only rule was they had to give total disclosure – and all the details. Marty loved hearing the details, often including them in his writing or just jacking off while listening to Wayne recount his escapades.

Funny thing was Wayne, who was twenty years older, played way more than Marty did. He once questioned him about this, feeling guilty for always engaging in extracurricular activities. Marty said that as a submissive he oftentimes found it hard to trust people, so he preferred to be careful as the scenes he enjoyed opened someone up to serious injuries if one got carried away. He also assured Wayne that he was totally cool with Wayne playing around, joking that he only had a few good years left. Wayne ended up taking Marty over his knee and spanking him for that comment and ended up with his muscleboy’s spunk all over his leg as a result. Then Wayne handcuffed Marty and fucked him doggy-style on the floor as punishment for not feeding his spunk to his Daddy. Marty was sure to let Wayne know when he was about to blow, and Wayne flipped him over and slapped Marty’s balls while swallowing his load, and his boy was in heaven.