We were pressed together, him with his back against the wall, me with a thick forearm across his shoulder with my hand flat against the wall beside his head. He'd moved his head back the tiny bit he could to back away after brushing my lips with his, tantalizing and tempting me to devour his mouth with mine. We're Marines, after all . . . Marines DON'T kiss! But he'd backed off, and then I'd wanted it more than ever.

Just after I'd asked him in a husky voice, "Kiss me," and then promised to fuck him until he couldn't take it anymore when we were done, he'd smiled and moved his head back toward me, his hot breath meeting mine, our mouths poised to lock lips.

But we were both stopped cold when his phone rang. "You need to get that?" I asked, this time my lips were the ones brushing his, we were that close.

Another loud, screechy ring from his phone before he answered. "Could be something . . . but this is a much better something than anything on that phone," he said, gripping my cock and balls appreciatively.

I laughed, knocking his lips and nose as I did - neither of us had backed away. But then another of those loud rings came. "Jesus, that's annoying!" I said honestly.

"You haven't flinched once, not a muscle," he said, just as the fourth screech of the phone sounded. "Good training," he said a little louder.

And then, in the distance, I heard a click and the recording from what was obviously an answering machine. "You've reached Carl Palmer. Leave a message, and I'll return your call as soon as I can." So, now I had a name - we hadn't bothered with them.

I raised an eyebrow to him. He hadn't moved a muscle, so we were still eye-to-eye, but I knew he saw it from the slight smirk I caught turn up the edge of his mouth.

After the beep a deep, but somewhat furtive voice said, "Er, Carl, guess you're not there. I got some time to myself and thought you'd be a good way to use it. I'll try again when I'm done with my errands if there's time and hope I can swing by then. Later." And then the machine made another loud beep and another loud click, and then there was just our breathing.

I took a sudden step backward, challenging the grip the stud I now knew was named Carl had on my manhood. But he let go after a moment's hesitation, though his look was decidedly less happy than before. Through a slightly defeated smile he said, "Oh, come on, you didn't think I was a virgin and yours alone, did ya?"

I had to laugh at that. "Not at all. I just need to piss, and it seemed like a good time to take a break there."

His eyes narrowed, and his look was hungry. "I recycle," he said, low and slowly.

"You-" I started, but then suddenly I got what he meant. "OH, you . . . "

"Yeah, I fucking do! Gonna feed me, fucker?" he growled. Before I could figure out the answer, he stepped by me and called behind him, "The head's this way - c'mon!"

I did have to piss. Whether I'd piss on him or feed him my piss, I wasn't sure, but however the style of it, I needed to drain my bladder.

When we got in the surprisingly spotless bathroom - not many men are so clean, not even marines! - he opened the swinging door to the shower and offered himself. "I make a GREAT urinal, dawg!" was his enthusiastic invitation.

I looked wantonly at the sparkling toilet but figured WHAT THE FUCK and grinned. "Then assume the position, urinal-man!" Lame, but hey, I was new at that.

Carl was in the shower on his knees, mouth open and eagerly waiting before I could even take a step. But I caught up fast, and planted my feet wide apart in front of him and put my hands on my hips, ready. Carl slurped my cock into his mouth hungrily, and my every nerve ending reacted to the stimulation . . . in the wrong way to piss. "Crrrmmonggg!" he gurgled around my cock, waiting.

I CAN DO THIS! I thought to myself. But I honestly didn't know how to do it. My experience said when there was a warm mouth around my cock, I DIDN'T piss. My muscles down there, whatever they were called, were clenched like I was holding it. I wasn't - my muscles were.

Just as I was about to say I couldn't, Carl put a meaty, warm paw flat on my groin, just above my cock. "Grrrredaaakkkks and cllletthhh ithh bflooooowwwwffff," he told me in a soothing voice despite the garbled words, still holding my cock half in his mouth.

Taking a breath, I forced my body to relax. Just like I'd been taught, before squeezing the trigger, relax every bit of you as you exhale a long, deep breath, and then, when you're relaxed, have the target in sight, then just very gently . . . I was amazed that before I got to where I'd likely stumble with that analogy, I felt my piss flowing. "OOOHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" he growled, slurping down my stream.

Turned out I really had to piss more than I thought, because it flowed and flowed out of me, and Carl gulped hungrily and greedily. And then, a surprise - I felt warm liquid flowing around my feet, and when I looked down I saw Carl had released his own stream, which was flowing around his knees and my feet in the bottom of the shower, a deep, rich yellow stream that stunk the way a man's piss does.

My first reaction should have been disgust for the feel of it on my feet. It wasn't. Somehow the shared exchange here - albeit his consumption versus my brushing with it somewhat unequal - was hotter than I imagined. I clamped my hands on his head and held him and forced the rest of what I had into him, wishing I had gallons more to feed his appreciative maw.

When I was done, Carl pulled back and threw his head back and gargled loudly, laughing as he did, causing some of the piss to spill out and down his furry chest. "Sorry, man, just LOVE a man's fluids!" I was just looking at him, half amused, half aroused.

My cock was the half of me that was aroused, and it caught Carl's attention. Reaching down, almost reverently, he gazed at my huge hardon then up at me. "Looks like someone enjoyed that. You did well, marine, for your first time piss-feeding."

Was the right answer, THANK YOU, SIR? I laughed to myself as we continued to stand there in the shower. "Want to shower off, since we're here?" I asked.

He stroked his other hand - the one that wasn't hovering so close to my cock I could feel the warmth of his palm - through his piss-moist chest fur and then sucked his fingers. I had to admit it was erotic, the way he obviously enjoyed the taste of me. "Yeah, guess so," he answered when his mouth was free. "You must be an O," he speculated.

"Oh, and why must I be an officer?" I asked defensively.

"Well, for one thing," he started, reaching around me and turning on the taps without moving when the warm water pelted him directly in the face, "You're too damn pretty to be a lowly dawg like me," he grinned.

"Anything else?" I challenged.

"Yeah - officers are cleaner than us enlisted men, and you clearly would prefer not to have the sweet stink of your piss on me when you next fuck me!" With that he took a gulp of the spray in his mouth and gargled that and spit it to the side. "Better?"

I clamped a hand on his shoulder and neck and pulled him close to me. "Not that it makes a difference - unless of course you're going to tell me that an enlisted cock fucks you better than an officer's," and I paused, my eyes boring down into his and waited until he shook his head. "No, I imagine not. And what we did, that was just the starter. Now clean us both up and let's get on to the main event here!"

Carl's eyes were slits - full of intent and need in equal portions. He made quick work of lathering every square inch of my body's surface and a friendly intrusion that was surprisingly enjoyable in my rear end and had us both squeaky clean in no time.

After he'd dried us, at least got us no longer soaking wet, using the single bath towel he seemed to have available, out of reflex I went to wrap it around my waist when he cast it over a hook. He just looked at me and laughed. "You've ripped my ass open with your cock, I've sucked down your cum and piss, and you're getting shy on me?" he teased me as he ripped the towel off me. "Christ, marine, your goods are way TOO good to hide, and I want to enjoy you while I can."

I laughed, a little embarrassed, both at his observation about my unnecessary modesty and at his compliment. Carl stepped in close and gave my cheek a pat. "You're fucking handsome as shit, marine!" he growled. I blushed at that - I couldn't help it - and looked down, away. "That kiss thing before?" My eyes snapped up to his again. "I couldn't tell you the last time I kissed anyone but my mom. But as hot as you are, marine, yeah, I fucking wanted to kiss you. I'm not ashamed of it, even if it makes me a pussy bitch!"

He was defiant, but he was also honestly wanton in the way he faced me and stared at me. With no thought other than possessing this hot fucker I grabbed him roughly and jammed our mouths together and forced my tongue into his mouth. I made him open wide and entered him that way, my tongue taking possession of his mouth and dueling with his. He clutched me as tight, with as much need, as I did him, and our bodies ground together.

The shower's cleansing was mitigated by our sweat as we strained against each other, kissing, licking, sucking, grinding, possessing each other. I dominated, but he consumed me as I did and matched my passions. I felt his every muscle tense, ripple, roll and loved the feel of our hard bodies against each other. Particularly where our cocks did their own duel and wet each of us with our precum . . . slicked our groins as we ground together.

He was the one who pulled back. "WOW!" he exhaled loud and long.

I couldn't argue. It was hot, all need, both now and pent up. FUCK THAT NO-KISSING SHIT! I thought. This is too fucking amazing! "Yeah," I echoed.

He was still breathing hard, looking at me. "Uh, ya want a beer . . . to recharge some?"

"And some water."

His face went sly. "Mmmmm, more to recycle that way!" He licked his lips lewdly.

I laughed at the joke, but not at him. No, I was not laughing AT him . . . I couldn't fucking wait to feed him my piss again! "That, and better to stave off the dehydrating effects of this heat and the alcohol," I said lamely.

He grinned, and then he quickly stepped in and smacked his lips against mine. "Mmmmmmm. What the fuck ever you say, SIR!" His grin was filthy . . . and I liked it.

His body was a work of art - all except his face, which was a BIT abstract. I enjoyed his muscles in motion, particularly his glutes, and his swinging cock and balls, as he got our beers and got me an iced tea glass full of cold water from a pitcher in his fridge. I looked at him critically, wondering how old he was. Could be mid-thirties or even younger, based on his body. Could be fifty - I shuddered momentarily at that - based on his face. I had no fucking clue, other than he fucked like a twenty-four-year-old . . . like me!

"My name's James," I told him, breaking the silence.

"Mine's Carl. Carl Palmer," he said, holding out his big, muscular hand. As we shook he said, "Pleased to meet you, SIR!" with a wink. "I made corporal and then had to retire. Up or out, you know that shit . . . or you will."

"Lieutenant William James," I expanded.

"First or second, not that it matters," he asked.

"First. Awarded, not earned. Just what I was granted after graduating the Academy."

We were leaning against a counter in his small kitchen - as spotless and tidy as his bathroom was. I saw from there that the living room was as well, a detail I hadn't noticed earlier in our frenzied fucking and sucking.

"You've got a long way to go, Lieutenant James," he said, encouragingly, not the least bit joking.

"How long were you in?" I asked him.

"Nineteen. Yeah, I know, nineteen and only made corporal. I was what you call a bit of a discipline problem," he admitted, grinning.

I downed the remainder of my Bud and took a step toward him. "I bet I could teach you some discipline."

He looked up at me with fiery eyes full of want. "You can teach me ANYthing you want, lieutenant."

"Lose the rank reference, and I might just do that, marine."

"Sir, yes, SIR!" he barked. I couldn't help but laugh, and he joined me. But he knew what I meant. "Nothing going on here; just two marines fucking!" he joked.

"Speaking of fucking," I said, reaching around him and finding his hole, making him groan in pleasure when I fingered his still-swollen pucker. I pressed in, and found him hot and tight like before, with an addition of gooey. "You didn't clean me out of you, did you?" I asked.

We were again so close our bodies were touching, our precum was dripping on each other, and our breath, now ripe with the smell of beer, breezed over each other's faces. His dirty grin had spread like he was taking credit for some naughty act. "Best lube there is," he answered huskily, moving himself on my finger and clenching on it.

Just when I pushed in farther with my long middle finger, the fucking phone screeched again. This time it was louder . . . because the phone and the answering machine were in the kitchen. It startled both of us, then he just grinned sheepishly. "I don't blame him for persistence," I said, adding a second finger inside him.

Carl moaned and moved on my two fingers with his eyes half-closed, rubbing his body hard against me. On the third ring I asked, "Does he fuck you as good as I do?"

As the fourth screech of the phone gave way to the machine playing his message to the caller, Carl opened his eyes and stared into mine. "Even if I wanted to lie, I couldn't. I haven't been fucked as good as you did a while ago ever," he stated directly to me.

"FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!" I groaned and found his spot with my fingertips and nudged it, getting much the same groan from him. I bent my head the miniscule distance for our lips to be almost touching. "I'm going to show you that fuck, earlier, it was NOTHING!"

"OH FUCK," he panted, jerking again as I knocked his knob again.

Carl's fuckbud left a short message that he was VERY sorry he'd missed him and HOPED there would be a next time SOON. He signed off with, "I REALLY NEED IT!" and hung up. I knocked Carl's p-spot again, harder, and he practically fell into my arms from the force of the jolt that went through him, gasping loudly. "All about him, huh?" I asked.

"Him who?" he replied weakly, pushing himself back on my fingers, desperate for more.

I manhandled him around until he was face-down on his kitchen counter, his ass presented to me, and I kicked his legs apart to ensure that slimy hole was easily accessible. I ripped my fingers out of him, eliciting both a cry of pain as I savaged his already-battered fuckhole and a cry of want as I exited. I reached around and shoved my slimy fingers under his nose, and he tried to lick them, but I kept him from doing it, just let him whiff the smell of his sex that he hadn't douched out in the shower. Then I leaned over him and put my face against his and sucked my fingers as he moaned.

Our sex tasted surprisingly . . . cumlike. Some sweat but not much ass, from what I could taste. Not that I was hoping for ass - actually I expected the worst, my big cock having pounded them deep and long had ruined plenty of bottoms' claims of inerrant cleanliness. I shared some with Carl, and he lapped hungrily at my fingers then growled, "What say we replenish some of that - NOW?"

He was reaching around, had hold of my fuckrod and was pulling it against his swollen cuntring, pushing back under me. I was just standing there enjoying his struggle as he squirmed, wriggled, pulled and pushed and wasn't getting anywhere. "Butter," I said simply.

"What the f-"

"You're sore, you're anxious and you're gonna get fucked HARD. Butter - NOW!"

His hand swept wildly to the left across the counter and knocked a ceramic thing aclatter. Sliding across the counter back toward me came a round plate with a stick of room-temperature butter on it, which had, apparently been under some cover on the counter all the while. "THERE!" he huffed, pushing it back with his hand.

I just chuckled. "Handy." I roughly stuck my ass-slicked fingers into the butter and then shoved a glob of it inside him and greased him up. His ass gyrations around my fingers helped make quick work of that, and I slicked my dick for good measure, despite plenty of precum.

Taking one step to reorient my stance behind him, I lined up and SHOVED inside him HARD and DEEP and one thrust balls-deep. "OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" he shouted in pain and pleasure, and I felt his cunt clench HARD on me, like it was the first time.

There was no waiting this time, and I began pumping into him HARD and DEEP, long-dicking every stroke, some assaulting his prostate, some just bottoming out with bone-jarring collision of my groin to his ass, his tailbone threatening to fracture my pelvis with every thrust.

"FUCK!" he spat. "I fucking LOVE your fucking horsecock! That's it, fucking RAM MY CUNT FULL!" he was yowling amid loud grunts when I'd bang his button or bottom out DEEP in him.

He was every bit as tight and every bit as active in his own fucking on my cock as he had been the first time. I had my hands on his broad shoulders, using them for leverage to SLAM myself as hard into him as I could, as deep as I could go. I NEEDED to be joined with him. I NEEDED to be DEEP inside this studmusclebear whose landing patch was rubbing my lower abs and groin with every savage drive into him.

"TAKE that big fucking cock, you cockwhore bitch!" I spat. And then I did, literally, spit a glob onto his back between his shoulder blades. "You're made for cock - that's your purpose!"

"GGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" he growled and began jamming his ass back onto me, fucking himself harder than I had been, forcing my thick, steely fuckpole to hit his prostate head-on with every thrust. And he was milking my cock with his cuntwall muscles. "You're going to give me every fucking DROP of your fuckmilk, stud!"

And we went on like that, in that position, grinding and drilling and thrusting and grunting and shouting as we mated like primeval beasts. Despite the shower our sweat was pungent, and it stoked my need and fanned my frenetic thrusts. I felt his body tensing, and I knew he was near, and my need to fuck his load out of him became my sole purpose.

The slightest change in angle, and I'd put more, continuous pressure on his prostate, causing my fat, veiny cockshaft to scrape along hard against it for the length of my thrusts after the head-on impact. And on the return, my fat, flared cockhead would again knock his p-spot. He was crying out in a continuous stream. "OH GOD JUST FUCKING FUCKKKKKKKK MEEEEEE. OH FUCK YES JUST LIKE THAT. FUCKING FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK ME! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! FUCK YEAH!"

He was close, and I wanted to feel his body writhe in the throes, feel it outside as his muscles roiled, but also to feel it inside, milking my marauding meat even more. But what I felt instead was Carl reaching down between his legs and grabbing my balls HARD in his grip and YANKING me forward as if to pull me deeper inside him. "HOLYFUCKNFUUCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!" I shouted.

I hadn't stopped slam-fucking his cunt - no way that would happen unless someone shot me dead, I was sure of that. My entire body was bent on one purpose - fucking him into the oblivion of helpless release - despite the pressure on my distended nutsac . . . or maybe even more because of it. "You're gonna give me what I want, FUCKER!" he growled, squeezing his hand and making me wince inside while my body just kept fucking like a juggernaut.

But then I felt it hit him, and his long, howling cry of, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh gggggooooooooddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd!" prefaced his body's tensing to iron-like stiffness and then, and I could feel it hit inside him, a blast of release as his climax overtook him and crested and broke through him.

Carl was pumping hard, his entire body caught between meeting my thrusts again and pumping out his own essence. His head was back, and he was growl-moaning in a long incoherent stream as his guts churned and spasmed.

Just like that my own satisfaction in making this man lose it, fucking him to his own incapacitation with his release, broke into my own explosion, and I was suddenly GRINDING into him, my body trying to get farther, deeper inside him as my seed rushed through my fuckpipe and began blasting inside him.

"OH FUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKIINNNGGGG YEESSSSSSSS! GIVEITTOME GIMME EVERY FUCKN DROOPPPPPPPPPP!" he shouted as he continued to drain his own load out.

I have no idea how much I pumped into him that time, only that it was a fuckton of spooge, or so it felt like it. At one point I lost any sense of relative physics of anything but his cunt clamped around my cock and my essence flowing from my deepest origin into him.

He finally spoke first or came back to reality first and spoke, and it sort of rippled in my thoughts as I tried to focus. He reached back with his free hand, the one he'd been leaning on the counter with against his elbow and forearm, and he held my thigh as if to hold me in him. "I know it's impossible, but can I keep that amazing cock?" he joked.

I pulled out without mercy, pulling a long grunt from him, and roughly had him up and spun around until we were chin to chin. "Like that, did ya?" I grinned. And before he could respond, I clamped my lips against his and forced my tongue into his mouth, eliciting a moan from him that sparked a growl and intensity from me.

Our teeth were clattering together as we ground out bodies and tried to climb into each other through our mouths. Tongues fighting, mouths sucking and biting, groaning, moaning and humping each other fast and hard. We were as hungry for each other as if we hadn't just fucked.

I just couldn't get enough of him, and it seemed like he felt the same. We clamored and half-fell into his kitchen table, and it skidded across the floor and into the wall, a chair or two falling and making more noise than we had fucking. He had me on my back on the table, and honestly I hadn't tried to stop him from taking the dominating spot.

Carl pulled off my lips and bit my left nipple hard enough to get my attention, grinning up at me evilly with it still caught between his teeth. Then he nipped at my topmost ab and worked down and swallowed my half-hard cock, all of it, and his throat had my head and was working it like his manpussy had minutes before. "OH HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!" I shouted and allowed my head to flop back and hit the tabletop hard, just glad to submit, still exhausted from the fuck.

I finally took my hands and gently pushed him off my cock. Carl slurped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not moving from his position between my legs. Then, with a long swipe of his tongue across my sweaty sac, across my spent nuts, and he smacked his lips again, grinning up at me.

"I should go," I said, wondering why I said it.

Carl's eyes only flickered for a moment. Then he got up and put out his hand to help me up. Hand-to-wrist, he pulled me up. "Want a shower before you get dressed?" he asked, benignly, almost disinterestedly, not meeting my gaze.

This was the awkward part - getting dressed, getting out. This is why an alley or back alcove in a bar was better.

"Nah, I can shower up at my motel," I told him, heading toward the front entry area where we'd flung clothes earlier.
"No worries, marine," he told me, following me into the other room.

I was getting into my tighty-whiteys. Carl had his boxers in his hand but wasn't getting into them, he was just standing there, watching me.

I looked him up and down, realizing how truly amazing his body was in that natural, long-worked way that a man - a marine! - looks when he USES his body, every part of it. I was envious.

Carl noticed my appreciative gaze, and he slightly flexed his pecs and abs. I may have licked my lips, I don't know. What I did know was that he then flexed his impressive arms and shoulders, and his cock started to grow. Then he grinned when he saw me looking at his cock, and I saw him looking down. I was getting hard again, too. Not the first time my cock had sold me out.

"Sure you need to leave?" he smirked.

When I didn't answer right away, Carl's smirk went flat. "Hey, no pressure, James," he said apologetically.

"I, uh," I mumbled, still standing with my tighty-whiteys halfway up my thighs.

"I was thinking of calling for a pizza and watching some football on cable," he told me. I just looked at him, and for a moment neither of us moved. Then he cocked a grin. "Might be in Spanish or something, but I'm sure we can find something to watch where other men are exerting themselves."

I didn't do this. I didn't do much more than fuck or get sucked, actually. But I found myself nodding and kicking my briefs off. He probably had more channels than I did in my motel.

 

BillyC

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