PCS Kaneohe Marine

"I really wish I could just hold your hand," Greg said out of the blue after we'd walked about halfway down Kalakaua toward the steakhouse I wanted to go to.

"Stand down," I told him with a laugh. "Besides, I know if you and I hold hands we'll both be boned in nothing flat, and we don't want to scare the locals."

"Uh," he stammered, and I looked over and sure enough he had a very noticeable protrusion in his nice walking shorts - too nice, as the fabric being so soft just silhouetted that bone perfectly to catch the street lights. "You're the one who called it, before we left."

I was chuckling but also struggling to think of it. He let me chew on that as we strode along. "Okay," I finally called it. "I give - I called what?"

"I think your exact words were, 'horny bitch,'" he laughed.

So did another guy we were passing who'd apparently heard it too. He sort of saluted with a grin, making my gut clench. "Keep it cool, Greg," I said low but firm when we were out of earshot of the other guy, before we'd approached the next group of beachside walkers in our path.

"Sorry," he mumbled, having seen me looking at the other guy and having seen his reaction.

I didn't recognize the other guy, but the half-salute threw me. Clearly there were any number of military men on the island I wouldn't recognize who might or might not recognize me. My CO knew I was gay and didn't care a bit, nor did he make it known other than the most casual acknowledgment. But no way was I wading into any Conduct Unbecoming territory!

We walked the last half of the way in silence, and it wasn't until we got to the hotel skyscraper near the end of Kalakaua and turned in that Greg spoke up again. "Hey, if we're going to a hotel restaurant, mine has a lot of appeal in that regard - both that they're great restaurants, and no worries about paying there since it all goes on my company tab."

"I told you this is my treat," I responded stiffly, still a little freaked from the sidewalk encounter.

I trick and fool around a LOT; but I don't usually fool around with guys out in public, and there's usually nothing to overhear and see. I'd already gone WAY past any levels of caution with Greg. Why, I couldn't say. But as I thought about it as we climbed the steps in the hotel's open courtyard in the center of the retail space, I remembered how good it felt to lay on the beach with him, out in the open, to touch intimately as we walked where nobody was within miles of us. To say nothing of the sucking, fucking and everything else we'd done, out on the bluffs overlooking the beach, down on the beach, in his hotel, in my apartment.

DAMN! Now my own shorts were getting tight in front! I forced my mind back to the specter of the salute on the sidewalk, and it staved off the full growth.

My friend who was the maitre d' at the restaurant welcomed us with equal enthusiasm. Bobby is a fellow surfer - straight as they come, with only one or two stray blowjobs after too many beers - and a nice guy who runs a great restaurant. He commented on how long it had been since I was in, speculated because he'd heard from another guy we both know that I'd been out on a mission - I stopped him with a look, and he got the message.

Our dinner was, as I knew it would be, phenomenal. We'd talked within cautious boundaries, and despite it was a very pleasant conversation. When it was time for the check, Greg tried to insist, saying his expense account for the trip would have a hole in it for his dinner anyway, but I waved him off. Then, our waiter informed me that our check had been taken care of, and I asked him to send Bobby over. Greg had a knowing look - I'm sure he thought that's why I'd picked the place and it was "on me," because we'd get comped.

Bobby came over with his hands out to stop me before I started. "I know what you're going to say, and just stop right there. If I can't give a meal to a marine who puts himself in danger for me and my family, then that's just wrong."

"And you know what I'm going to say. Give that meal to someone who's needy. It's inappropriate for me to accept, though I appreciate the gesture. Now have Kanu get me a check and let me pay, please."

Bobby just shook his head and turned to our waiter, Kanu, behind him. "Who am I to argue with a marine officer? Do as he says." Then he turned back to the table and said to Greg, with a surprising bit of a catch in his voice, "He's one of the best men I've ever met - be good to him." When I looked up in shock, Bobby just had his hand out, which I shook - all very manly! - before he walked away.

"Impressive . . . but I didn't need him to tell me, Bill."

My discomfort with the sentiment - from both of them - was high, but I was spared any answer because Kanu had the bill, which I paid, noticing they'd printed a "25% military discount" and deducted the amount from the bill. I didn't argue the point, tipped Kanu generously based on the full amount, and we left, catching what we would now call bro-hugs but at that time didn't have a name for on our way out from Bobby.

Kalakaua, the beach walk back, was considerably less populated on the way back, affording decently long stretches where there was nobody anywhere near us. "I'm glad we'll be back inside, in my hotel room, soon," Greg said suddenly, interrupting my wandering thoughts.

"Me, too," I responded, meaning it. Then, in an act that surprised me, I clamped my arm around Greg's shoulders - all very manly and innocuous to anyone watching - and pulled him into me. "Very glad," I added, patting his hard chest through his expensive shirt, meaning it. He sort of leaned his head against my shoulder for a moment then straightened as we stumbled along with us pulled together.

Then I pushed him away laughing, and he joined in, both of us just happy . . . and looking forward to what was to come . . . pun Intended!

When we first got in his suite I was suddenly feeling awkward. Neither of us went at the other, we just sort of stood there. The intimacy overload was weighing on me - I wasn't good at it at all - but I had sure eaten it up earlier. And if I was honest with myself, I needed more of it now.

Greg motioned to me with his arm outstretched. "C'mon, let's go relax on the balcony and enjoy the beautiful night some more," he offered.

I looked down at his outstretched hand and back at his eyes, and he didn't waiver. Finally, tentatively, I put out my arm and pushed my hand into his, enjoying the sudden contact, the promise of reconnection, his easy warmth.

Greg smiled and pulled me to him and, with only our hands clasped together down at our sides, kissed me. It was a long, lingering, gentle kiss that threatened to go hotter, but we both kept it just inside that, eventually wrapping our arms around each other, holding each other tight but nothing more.

We pulled apart, letting our arms fall, but his right and my left hand found each other again as we stood there. Greg took his left hand and gently traced the length of my hardon, eyes glued to mine, going narrow as he felt me. "I'm SO going to enjoy that again. But we have all night." His hand leaving my throbbing cock was an agony, but as he pulled me toward the balcony he clasped my hand tight, and it warmed me in places where the heat of our kiss or his touch hadn't.

On the wider balcony of that top-floor suite there was a big double lounger, which is where Greg led me to, us still hand-in-hand. "Unless someone's got infrared out on the beach or in the ocean, nobody can see us here," he told me.

I smiled and took the cue and sat down on the lounger, pulling him by our still-connected hands. He was smiling down at me - handsome, hot, warm all at once - and I suppressed the urge to reach out and open his tented fly and take what my cock and nuts were telling me they wanted. "I'm also looking forward to that 'again,'" I told him, grinning up at him.

Greg stripped off his shirt over his head, never unbuttoning it and cast it down onto the floor, near the door to the inside. It crossed my mind that he must be plenty rich to have a shirt that obviously expensive and to treat it too casually. But that thought was supplanted by the sight of his beautiful torso and his muscles rolling and flexing as he climbed onto the lounger and settled himself back, his arm outstretched for me to move back into.

I did, without hesitation, pulling off my own shirt and casting it to rest with his, leaned back and felt his arm around me, holding my shoulder and pulling me against him. It felt great - his body and mine, the length of us touching, especially when he leaned his head on my shoulder. I put my hand on his thigh, my fingers finding his warm skin below the hem of his shorts. "Mmmmm," he cooed into my shoulder.

We sat that way for quite a while, the surf's song lulling us both, relaxing us. I had no idea his thoughts, but mine whirled and roiled - the horrors of my mission juxtaposed against the serenity of this moment and the warmth of being with Greg. At one point he adjusted his position so that it was me with my arm around him, and he was snuggled into my shoulder and pec, his arm over my abs and holding me tight. "I'm a great listener, if you want to talk. Just an offer, Bill; no expectations, just enjoying BEING with you."

His accentuation of 'being' echoed a growing part of me - I was enjoying just BEING, just letting myself go to the intimacy and warmth of the moment which a man whose brains I'd fucked out and would again. The intimacy was something that was rarely available, and when it was, I always refused. Not now, not at this point - at this point I not only needed it, I allowed myself to revel in it.

I pulled him closer against me. "I'm not much of a talker," I confessed. "I'm more of a doer."

"Oh, stud, you don't have to tell me you're a doer! I'm torn down the middle wanting to jump you right here and wanting this moment, just like this now, to go on forever."

"We don't have forever," I reminded him wistfully.

"No, but we have now, Bill," he said, cocking his head up enough to gently kiss my neck before resting his head on my pec again.

"A concept any marine knows only too well," I told him, my mind even farther off. "Sometime this week I have to write to several families," I told him cryptically. He hugged me tighter, listening, obviously understanding. "I really hate that my brothers' lives - that I couldn't - that they . . . " and then I was sobbing, letting it out, this time without fighting it like I had when I'd been in my cell-like quarters in Virginia after arriving stateside, at night after day-long interrogations they called debriefing.

Greg held me tight and didn't make any platitudes whatsoever - just held me as I sobbed it out. It wasn't one of those tale-telling sob-stories, me choking out words and saying it all; it was just me sobbing for my brothers I couldn't save and bring home alive, for my brothers who'd been injured who I'd have to figure out a way to get to them in whatever hospital they were in someday soon, for my own near misses and good fortune that had brought me through with only the emotional scars. And there wasn't a single tear for the enemies I'd dispatched or injured. No, there would never be a tear for them, for those who threaten my country and my fellow Americans, no matter the bleeding heart excuses that they're victims of their culture and its leaders. No, they're enemies; they're barbarians by any measure, who use their own influences to con their women and children into believing that if they blow up one of us and themselves that they've done a great thing.

"Hey, relax. I've got you." Greg's words penetrated my thoughts, and I felt my body, tensed, in his hold. His soft lips were just under my ear, and he was holding me very tight.

"So-" I started, but he stopped me cold.

"NO!" he admonished me with unexpected steel in his voice. "No, sorries - not necessary, not desired. But also no danger here, Bill. Relax. I've got you," he coaxed me, his voice lowering and softening, his hold remaining tight on me.

I felt the tension release and my body slacken in his hold, giving in to it, giving in to the gift of his warmth and caring. I really was very unskilled at this - as any number, though few comparatively of those I'd been with, of men who'd offered me the same safe harbor before could attest. I returned his tightened hold and nuzzled my face on his forehead and focused on the beautiful serenity of the surf and the warm breeze from the ocean, the few blinking lights out to sea and lights of the shore as Greg gently rubbed my side with his warm hand.

Waking with a start that caused Greg to moan into my shoulder, I was jolted out of a dead sleep and instantly took inventory of my surroundings and situation - training. I had to piss, and I also was shocked to find when I glanced at my watch that we'd been laying there for well over four hours. One instinctive thought raced through that challenged me laying like that, cuddled with a trick . . . but it was quickly quashed by a more dominant thought that was gratitude and awe and was peppered with thoughts that made me smile.

Trying not to wake Greg so I could go to the head, I struggled gently to disengage myself. He moaned in his sleep as I moved but let me go. When I'd finished my necessary, I came back to the balcony in just my boxer briefs, having decided that, in the middle of the night, I was over-dressed in my shorts. Greg was curled up on the lounge, about two-thirds of it empty where I'd been.

Walking around to the other side and leaning over him, I kissed him gently on his temple. He stirred in his sleep and turned into my kiss with a moan of pleasure. "Come to bed with me," I whispered, gently getting my arm behind his neck and my other under his knees.

No matter how strong you are, bent over, lifting dead weight - in his case I guessed about one-seventy or one-eighty, given his muscularity - is neither easy nor graceful. I hoisted him with a grunt, which apparently woke him. "Now this is exactly what I was dreaming about," he told me sleepily into my neck, wrapping his arm up and holding on.

I carried Greg through the vast suite to his bedroom and to his bed, gently laying him on the bed, which had, fortunately been turned down. As I unbuttoned his shorts and unzipped them and got him out of them, him helping by lifting his hips, I was about to pull the sheet up over him when I realized he might have to take a piss, too. Stopping with the sheet mid-sail, I asked. "That's NOT what I need," he told me definitively, and he pulled me down onto him.

Greg's lips met mine as I fell on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around me and rekindled the kiss we'd left off in the living room before. It was briefly warm and gentle, but we were sucking at each other's tongues moments later, invading each other's mouths and knocking our teeth together as we tried to get more of each other. "OH GOD YES!" I panted when he broke the kiss and was biting the base of my neck.

We were grinding into each other HARD, our cocks dueling through our briefs, mine half out the waistband, making our abs slick with my pre. Greg reached down between us but surprised me when he didn't touch either of our smashed-together cocks. Instead he brought his fingers up coated with my pre and fed them to me and sucked along with me, moaning his delight.

I devoured his precummy fingers and then his mouth again, roughly groping and clutching and yanking off both his and my underwear until we were skin-to-skin down there, too. His hands were clenched on my buttcheeks, pulling me in harder and grinding up into me, meeting my thrusts into his washboard abs alongside his dripping cock.

"FUCK YEAH!" he panted at one point. "Just fucking TAKE me, stud. Make me YOURS, Bill," he cried before clamping onto my left trap with his teeth after a particularly forceful thrust into his midsection with my raging, desperate fuckstick.

I kissed down his neck and over his left pec, finding his nip with my lips first, then my tongue then my teeth, eliciting a buck from his body up into me along with a cry of pleasure. I gave the other the same treatment and then worked my way down the ridges and valleys of his eight-pack until his wet, slimy cockhead was pressed against my cheek, and my tongue was in the puddle of our mixed precum. "Mmmmm," I moaned as I feasted on our juice, making sure I teased his cockhead with my face as I did, feeling more of his juice run onto me and down my cheek. Then I turned my head and swallowed his cock whole.

"OHSHITYEAH!" he cried out, bucking up into me, knocking my nose with his pubic bone.

I got my hand between his legs and grabbed Greg's beautiful nuts and pulled as I sucked HARD and worked his bone over with my tongue. Up to his constantly drooling head, sucking his pre out of his slit and then plunging down his veiny shaft until that thick bone was in my throat again, over and over I worked him aggressively, working his nuts just as roughly.

Greg was bucking up into my mouth, his cries and moans and grunts timed with his thrusts and the yanks on his nuts. I was giving no ground, going for it, wanting his seed, not sure why it was so important to me, just knowing that's all I wanted was to pull him over the edge hard and fast and drain him.

Which is what Greg apparently realized a few short minutes later, when he started trying to push me off hard. "YOU GOTTA STOP!" he huffed, struggling, his hands pushing at my head in an attempt to get me off him. I was having none of it. "OH SHIT I'm gonna - you have to stop or I'll," he cried, but I went at it harder for his protests. "OOHHH FFFUUUU-" he trailed off as I felt his hands clamp on my head, no longer protesting as his back arched, driving his cock deeper into my throat, another possible dislocation to my nose as I inhaled his musky pubes and sucked and swirled my tongue, going for the gold.

"AAAAAAAA," he cried as I felt his head flare and then his fat shaft throb. And then his seed was gushing down my throat, and he was bucking wildly through his explosion. I pulled off enough to catch the dregs in my mouth but was surprised that his spurts hadn't gone to dribbles at all, and he quickly filled my mouth. That inflamed my desire all the more, and I swirled his cum around his head with my tongue and drove him up the wall.

When Greg finally did buck me off his cock, gasping for breath, I didn't miss a beat and yanked his ass up in the air by his ankles, pulled high and wide. I pushed his knees back against his chest and angled that still-swollen hole up and put my lips to it, causing another gasp from him. I spit the massive half-load I'd caught of his in my mouth into his hole and licked and tongued it around inside him until he was crying out so loud I worried that hotel security might get a call from the room below us or next to his bedroom.

Then I straightened up, with my urging fuckrod a millimeter from his entrance, and I spit the last of his cum and my spit onto it, letting go of one ankle long enough to smear it around. "OHFUCKYEHHH!" he cried. "Fucking TAKE ME!"

And that's exactly what I did. With one savage thrust I buried myself balls-deep into him and began thrusting just like that, causing his long, loud cry to go vibrato with the impacts. My balls were smacking into his ass, slicked from his cum I'd dribbled when I mouth-lubed him, and I just SLAMMED him hard and fast and deep. "You fucking ARE mine! Take it, BITCH!" I growled as I drilled him. "Take it all - take my seed - fucking milk it out of me. Work for it you fucking cockwhore!" I shouted, pounding him even more savagely.

Greg gave back as good as I was giving him. He growled and snarled and contorted his body to meet my thrusts and his cunt clenched and milked my horsecock like it was no effort, like he wasn't sore from the earlier times. He showed me he wanted it and worked hard to get it, all the while his cock was hard as a lead pipe, smacking his abs and splattering his cumdregs and new pre all over him as my balls slapped his ass.

I was close, and I started jackhammering him, knew I was hitting his bullseye as he thrashed about and cried out over and over and then, clenching hard but spasmodically on my cock with that amazing cunt of his, I felt myself lose it as I saw him gushing another cumload onto his sternum. "AWJESSSSSS HERE I CCCUUUMMMM!" I cried out, shoving HARD through his clenched cuntchannel to get as deep in him as I could right as my load blasted up the length of me and DEEP and HARD into him.

"FUCK I FEEL IT!" he cried out, wriggling and writhing on my cock planted DEEP inside him, unloading me into him as his own still gushed out some more of his.

I heard him saying something and struggled to process it when the blasts of my explosion and the inner whooshes and bangs in my head subsided. I was still planted in him, my arms locked, hands planted on his shoulders, his legs sort of slack around me. I started to pull out as gently as I could, but he howled out and pulled back himself in a hard jerk. "AWWWW JESUS!" he cried out, huffing.

"Should I say sorry?" I asked, smirking down at him.

He looked up at me intensely. "ONLY if you're telling me that's the last time you'll do me like that! Like I said, that was fucking amazing, fucking incredible, fucking mind-blowing . . . fucking cunt-shattering," he added with a laugh.

I got off him, never breaking eye contact, and moved to gently roll him over. When he looked at me questioningly, I told him, "I'd better kiss it and make it better."

Greg was on his stomach in an instant, his ass raised in anticipation. I had to laugh. "Now that's fucking HOT!" I said, before I went in face-first to his slimy, sore cunt and lapped and sucked me out of him. "And fucking tasty!" I added at one moment's interval before going back to it.

He was moaning and writhing and grinding his swollen cuntlips into my face. "You'd better share, fucker!" he growled into the mattress.

I slurped some more then flipped him over and kissed him, aggressively spitting my seed and his assjuice into his hungry mouth. When we finally broke, I was panting from the intensity of it as much as he was still, and I flopped on my back. "Jesus!"

He laughed at that. "Yeah, that was some biblical-level sex right there!"

We both laughed together, then I made to get up. "Gotta piss," I told him. Probably the last of our beers at dinner making their way through.

"Me, too," he told me, groaning loudly when he went to get up. "But you may have to carry me to the toilet - I'm not sure I can walk."

I laughed, bent down and grunted against his protests, picking him up like I'd done on the balcony. Used my knees better this time, which was probably a good thing for my back. "I was kidding," he told me, holding on around my neck.

Our eyes met, and suddenly everything went very slow. My head was lowering, our lips were meeting, and, holding him aloft in my arms, his arms wrapped around my neck, the surf singing in the background, we kissed again, long and deep. When we finally did break that one, I was a bit shy-feeling, and he turned his eyes down, too. "I really do have to piss," he said quietly.

"Me, too," I told him, carrying him to the bathroom, sorrier with each step that I'd have to let him out of my arms when we got there.