A Marine's Journal

September 26th, 2020,

I’m not sure how to start one of these…is it “Dear Diary”?

No...I’m a Marine, that shit doesn’t sit right with me.

Doesn’t matter. Something very strange happened today. 

I’m confused...and a little excited

I’m documenting this experience to remember every detail I can. 

Even the dialog...I just don’t want to forget any of it.

So I guess we’ll start a few weeks ago when I got the news that I was being transferred to a new base.

I texted my girlfriend the big news but got no reply. Stacy recently hadn’t been great at texting, but she was supposedly busy with college finals.

Anyway, this new base had Army, Navy, Airforce, and Marine Corps personnel...meaning we all went to the same fitness center.

I moved into my new quarters and decided that the move was a sufficient workout for the day.

I texted Stacy, letting her know I had finished moving in...and she broke up with me. Over text. Real fucking mature.

The next morning, I got out of bed and went to the gym to deal with my frustration.

I typically worked out in the morning. It feels good to go about your day feeling your muscles pumped to the max.

Plus, the gym was usually less crowded in the morning.

I arrived at the gym at the same time as CPO (Chief Petty Officer) Walker.

I had later learned that “Buster” was his nickname...not sure why, but it’s what everyone called him.

Okay, quick segway.

I’m not gay. Not at all, by any means.

I’ve had several girlfriends, but none of them really...worked out.

I just...couldn't help but observe Buster. Maybe 5’5” tall? A fucking stud that exuded confidence.

He usually did HIIT (High-Intensity Interval Training) workouts with heavy weights, while wearing a weighted vest and one of those elevation training masks.

Probably the fittest dude in the Navy.

I watched Buster every time I went to the gym. He was a truly inspiring man

He worked so hard that he involuntarily inspired everyone around him to push themselves harder.

So the fourth time I saw him at the gym, I paid closer attention to his choice of clothing.

He wore short, tight Navy shorts, a sleeveless compression shirt, and Nike socks/shoes.

On this particular day, I happened to be passing by as Buster was using the leg-press machine.

His shorts were so short, you could see these white straplines.

It was a jockstrap. I’ve heard of jockstraps before, but haven’t ever worn one. 

Why would you? It seems “gay” to have your ass hanging out of underwear, I mean, just wear compression shorts like everyone else.

Anyway...for the next few weeks, I continued observing Buster’s attire.

He never seemed to wear different clothes. Either he had multiple sets of the same clothing or he did daily laundry.

Or...maybe he never washed his clothes?

Okay, moving on to this past week.

Every day, I happened to find Buster in the locker room, post-workout, absolutely DRENCHED in sweat. 

He would strip into his jockstrap and bend over backward to stretch his abs.

I don’t know why I would look, but I did.

His balls were fucking HUGE. Maybe the size of two tennis balls.

I watched him stretch like this all week.

I don’t think he ever noticed me staring, I’m a pretty discreet dude.

Anyway, he would remove his jockstrap, set it next to me on the bench, then head to the showers.

Okay, so..this is where the “confusion” reached its peak. 

When I would see his balls in the pouch of the jockstrap...I would keep getting hard.

I would go home at night and jerk off to that image.

Fuck, I don’t understand it, I’m not gay.

I think I had been feeling...frustrated about my recent breakup.

Why, though? I didn’t even like Stacy. I never even MET her, she was my fucking Tinder girlfriend.

Whatever, moving on...this next part happened today.

I’d been feeling so confused, which caused a lot of anxiety.

It was leg day and I pushed myself extra hard at the gym.

After two hours of intensity, I could barely move.

I walked to the locker room, took off my shirt, sat down on the cushioned bench, and slouched over from the exhaustion.

I sat there for a minute with my hands on my head, trying to catch my breath.

Buster suddenly appeared at the locker next to where I was sitting.

He began his stretching routine.

I looked over...his the jockstrap pouch was drenched in sweat. FUCK.

He removed his jockstrap, placed it right next to me on the bench, and walked to the showers.

I was so curious and no one seemed to be around…

I picked up his jockstrap and put it to my face.

I inhaled.

It smelled so fucking good, I don’t think he’d ever washed it.

I continued smelling the pouch and started rubbing my member through my compression shorts.

A moment later, Buster appeared around the corner and yelled, “The fuck?”

I guess he’d forgotten his towel from his locker.

Buster picked me up and pinned me against the lockers.

Now, I’m about 5 inches taller than him. 

But I was fucking exhausted from my workout and didn’t have a drop of endurance left in my body to fight back.

Buster stared at me intensely, “The fuck you doing with my jockstrap? What’s your fucking name?”

“Um, it’s...Lieutenant Blake”, I answered, scared out of my mind.

I looked down...my dick was making a tent out of my compression shorts, straight into Buster’s abs.

“You staring at my dick, Lieutenant Blake?” 

I looked back up, “What? No, I wasn’t staring, I swear.”

“You call me ‘sir’, you hear me? Were you staring at my dick, Lieutenant Blake”?

“No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” I answered.

Buster took a step back and grabbed his crotch, “I know I have a small dick. And I’m fucking proud of it. I know how to fuck. I’ve fucked more women than Hugh Heffner could ever dream of fucking. And the women always come back, begging for more.”

“Yessir, I understand, sir.” I was frozen.

Buster looked down at my erection, then back at my face.

He took another step back and put on his jockstrap.

I was still pinned to the lockers in fear.

Buster walked forward and rubbed my erect cock, “Okay, Lieutenant, I see what’s going on here. You like my sweaty jockstrap. Should’ve said something sooner.”

Buster began thrusting his hips onto my left quad. His dick was growing in his jockstrap.

Hell, even my dick was somehow growing bigger.

After a minute, Buster stopped humping and told me to lie “face-down” on the bench.

I did as I was asked.

My legs and arms were straddled on the sides of the bench and my head was turned to the left.

Buster straddled his arms and legs over my body and began humping my ass through my compression shorts, through his jockstrap…

I looked around to make sure we were alone...But there were several high ranking personnel watching and chatting amongst themselves.

I still don’t fucking understand why they didn’t stop Buster.

Buster was thrusting hard. Really hard. I could feel my prostate pulsing.

Within a few minutes, Buster creamed...

His semen soaked through his jockstrap, through my compression shorts, and into my asshole.

It was so wet.

Buster stood up and I started to do the same.

“I’m not fucking done, sit the fuck down, Lieutenant.” Buster commanded.

I lied back down and Buster pulled my compression shorts down to the bottom of my pumped glutes (you know, leg day).

Then, he pulled his dick out of the side of his pouch.

He slowly inserted his dick in my ass. 

Apparently, sweat (from my workout) and semen make great lube.

Now, Buster didn’t have the biggest penis; maybe three inches hard...but oh my hod, he knew how to fuck.

Buster thrust his cock in and out of my ass. It felt amazing.

He increased his speed. I could feel my prostate pulsing again...over and over.

I felt precum explode from my dick.

Finally, I was ready to cum and couldn’t stop it.

“Oh fuck, Buster...fuck, Sir….shit!”

Buster yelled, “Take my cum, Lieutenant, FUCK YEAH!”...with every thrust, he yelled, “TAKE. MY. FUCKING. LOAD. MAGGOT. TRASH.”

I felt ropes and ropes of semen stream into my ass.

We both laid there, with his cock still inside me. Thrusting slowly.

Then Buster pulled out, stood up, and slapped my ass, “Whew, tight fucking hole.”

I stood up, in disbelief. I didn’t know what just fucking happened. Everyone just witnessed me getting butt fucked.

Buster put his dick back into his jock and raised his arms, “Fuck, you gotta try Lieutenant Blake. He’s a good fuck.”

Everyone cheered and laughed.

I heard a voice, “Jesus Buster, you’re always fucking everything in sight.”

“Looks like we’ve got a rookie willing to take one for the team.”, said some other sergeant.

I continued looking around and could feel Buster’s cum dripping out of my ass into my compression shorts, which were still pulled down to the bottom of my ass. I pulled up the compression shorts and ran back to the barracks.

And...now I’m here. Writing this down. I needed to remember every detail...I’m still very confused.

Fuck, I can feel Buster’s cum still dripping out of my ass, thank God I have my own quarters.

I don’t understand how he blew such a huge load after having blown one minute prior.

So... that’s it. I don’t know what happens now.

Some guys on base...they have larger, girthier dicks.

Am I supposed to handle those now?

Why am I...excited thinking about that?

Fuck...I don’t know if I’ll ever “journal” again, but I needed to write this one out.

Maybe I’ll document future experiences...I don’t know.

Damn...not sure how to sign-off on a journal.

Until next time,

Lieutenant Blake