The Major serviced

The Major takes a risk

After domination by big-cocked Ahab has left him exhausted, the Major decides to get some fresh air and visit a patient, currently under sedation in the local hospital … 

There was a sanatorium up at the hill station, in the cool of the pines, and I had intended visiting there before, till Ahab had fucked the vim out of me and left me like a rag doll.

It was a Major’s duty to visit Barker, one of the enlisted men, one of my favourites, don’t you know. I almost felt I needed to commit myself as a patient in the hospital - due to Ahab’s monstrous cock my arse and jaw were still pretty sore, and I had a pronounced limp.

Barker as you will recall was the enlisted man who rather unfortunately had been sodomised by a person or persons unknown in a tent in the jungle one night. He had never been the same since.

He had been moved from our own hospital for rest and recuperation up in the hills. The men rather brutally reported that he had gone nuts. I feared he might be shipped home soon if his medical report recommended it.

Barker was delirious I heard, whatever drugs they gave him, he was not at rest, so noisy that they moved him out of the ward to a small room by himself so he could leave the other patients undisturbed.

In the end they had to drug him so prodigiously that he slept, tied to the bed, for days on end.

The sanatorium was a couple of miles from town, a gently rising wooded walk, so I took the air early the next morning when I felt up to it, and made my way, carrying a tin of biscuits.

I remembered with affection the night we had frolicked together in the monsoon rains, after Mrs Canonbie had tried to seduce me in the taxi and she had turfed me out into the storm.

Sister greeted me warmly, thanked me for the biscuits and led me along the bright corridors to where Barker was, in a room with just the one cot.

The poor laddie, said Sister, but it is for the best. I’m afraid you’ll not get much out of him Major. It is kind of you to visit.

She left us alone.

Barker was asleep.

I found it strange to contemplate him, unconscious and supine, though seemingly at peace.

He had grown a beard, which was luxuriant and becoming, spreading down below his neck and joining up with the curls at the top of his chest, which peaked out of the neck of his pyjamas.

I looked down on him and wondered how much of Barker was still there, under the fog of the opium, and idly let my finger trail over his chin and down his hairy neck and down to the open collar of his pyjama jacket.

I paused for a moment, then pulled the sheet back, and unbuttoned the top his jacket and put my hand inside to feel his heart beating under the hair. For old times sake.

I let my hand drift across the top of his bare chest, then further down, pausing where his nipples sat in their thick circles of hair. I flicked my finger tips back and forth, feeling, to my surprise, a little stiffness responding. Obviously some part of Barker was still inside.

I let my fingers trail further south, unbuttoning as I went, down the still tight muscles of his abdomen, to his furry belly, and then below.

I lifted the light sheet further, so I had a view of his pyjama trousers.

I pulled the cord apart and pulled them down a little so he was exposed. His penis was slumbering of course between his thighs, but I wondered, oh I wondered, would it respond to attention?

I came to my senses,  got up quickly and opening the door looked out into the corridor. It was a sweltering morning already, the time when the doctors and nurses took their breaks after their rounds, and left the patients to sleep.

I closed the door behind me, half preparing a story should I be interrupted.

I returned to the bed and beheld Barker’s exposed, sleeping body. He had moved slightly since I had pulled back the sheet, was that possible? But his penis still slumbered, small and gentle, in its hairy nest.

I gently pulled his striped cotton trousers down to his knees.

I bent over and kissed his bared stomach, then his thighs, one after the other, then the soft tip of his organ. I did not suck him then but kept that treat for later. Soon.

Gently I ran my fingers round his genitals, cupping his balls in my hand, stroking the hairs growing there, then encircling his tool. I began to tug, slowly at first, then more confident, firmly, squeezing a little.

His cock was warm to the touch. It did not stir. Was I to be disappointed, to be thwarted from my unnatural desires?

I bent down over him and stretched out my tongue, holding his balls as I did so. I began to lick him, tease him, suck him, feel the warm flesh in my wet mouth.

Suddenly I heard a murmur, a change in his breathing. I kept going, and slowly I began to feel a change. His cock was growing in my mouth. I renewed my efforts, running my fingers over the hairy balls which hung handsomely below his legs. I felt them change too under my fingers, swell, even as his prickhead was swelling.

Goddamit, opium or no opium, Barker was having a hard on.

And a massive one too. I had heard of the effects of opium that way on some patients, the embarrassing erections which would soar under the bed sheets at inopportune moments and remain there rock hard for hours.

My mouth was suddenly full of a rigid cock, the hot knob pressing against my willing tongue.

I sank him down my throat, relishing the rigid young length of him, swallowing his tip. He was leaking juice already, I could taste it.

Barker was breathing heavily, murmuring in his deep sleep. When I lifted my mouth from him and sat back to look at him, he whimpered, as if he was missing the attention to his tool.

I began to wank him, my fist tight on his length. He was lifting himself off the mattress in time to my servicing.

His eyes were tight shut, but his long lashes were flickering on his cheeks.

I could not control myself. I might have settled for some manual or oral satisfaction but I craved more and had to have it. I wanted Barker’s cock.

Unbuckling my belt and dropping my trousers and drawers to my ankles, leaving my dusty brogues on, tut tut, I leapt on the bed, and straddled him.

My cock was up and ready, all nine inches of it.

I spat on my hand and rubbed my arsehole.

Then with no more ado I lifted myself up and sank down the length of his stiff cock, letting the poor sleeping bugger sodomize me.

I cried out like a virgin. He was so hard and solid. I was fuckin stuffed.

All the while now he was murmuring. So was I, though my murmuring was more in the moaning line of things.

I began to hoist myself up then down, so my arse was working on him, for he seemed incapable of any other actions. Up and down I went, letting him slide in and out with his young hard cock.

The chemically induced iron in his erection took my breath away. I wanted it up me for ever. He soon was urging me to a pinnacle of pleasure. My arse muscles grasped his cock tightly.

I groaned and groaned, careless of the noise I must be making. I wanted more.

I crouched over as I was penetrated fully, bouncing up and down. I reached for his nipples.

My own cock was slapping on my furry stomach, bringing wave upon wave of pleasing sensation. If I stretched sufficiently the tip of my cock would rub itself on the thick hairy patch in the middle of his chest, that feeling could not be resisted.

Barker was making more noises, a low growl. I could feel his cock tense in my arse.  Was he about to blow?

I was bouncing more vigorously, working on him. My cock was like a mighty flag pole in a gale. All over the ruddy bit.

Suddenly he groaned and lifted his arms, reaching out with his hands like a sleep walker. His furry hips were now rising vigorously in time with my movements. He was like a clockwork toy jerking up and down, thrusting upwards. He felt good inside my arse and my slapping cock was reaching a point which soon would make me shoot out of control with or without a helping hand.

Oh Barker, Barker, I murmured, you poor sod.

His blue eyes snapped open and suddenly with an almighty shout (from me) I felt his hard cock jerk and explode up me. His cock was convulsing as he shot his spunk up my arse. There was a lot of it. Messy. And it was hot.

In response it took me no more than a bloody second to erupt all over his torso so that his sweaty body was suddenly covered with my grateful hot semen, spattered from neck to navel, dripping on the wiry hair.

I collapsed on top of him, half expecting the rush of feet along the corridor and the rattling of the door knob. I had made so much noise that I was sure someone passing must have heard me climaxing.

Barker’s chest rose and fell under its new wet creamy covering, but his eyes were closed again, the long lashes fluttering.

I heard the clattering of a trolley in the corridor.

I hastily clambered off him, my arse slippery from his spunk, and finding a water jug and ewer nearby, I began to sponge him, wiping away my sperm. He made soothed, pleased gentle little sounds as I did that, and soon he seemed to have relaxed again, and turned to his side in contentment.

Hastily I buttoned him up again and lifted the sheet up to below his neck, covering the footprints of my brogues, then I adjusted myself, wiping my wet cock on my handkerchief and tucking my length away once more, stepping back into my drawers and trousers, buttoning up my shirt, and buckling my belt.

Barker looked angelic, pleased by his recent bit of therapy. I decided I would make another appointment to see him soon.

Picking up my cap I unlocked the door and peered out into the quiet corridor where the coast was clear.

On the way out Matron Macpherson stopped me. She was a cheery Scottish woman from Perthshire. We had known one another for some time as fellow Scots.

Major, she said, good to see you looking so healthy and rosy cheeked, but is that a limp you have? Too much jumping about? How is our laddie Barker?

Out for the count Matron, but he looks strangely happy.

The drugs will be smoothing away his cares, poor laddie, she said. Bed’s the best place for him. I dare say he would have welcomed your visit though Major. It is a shame he did not know you were there with him, I am sure he would have made an effort for you. Goodness is that the time, he’s due a bed bath, I’ll get Nurse Stanley on to that.

Indeed, Matron. He looked well when I saw him. He is obviously being well cared for.

I handed over a note – Get the boy some smokes will you, Matron? I know he has no one to sort him out up here.

Tut tut Major, you well know he should n’t. Some digestives might be more the thing.

Sister has those already. Well, smoke them yourself then Matron.

Och, away wi ye Major, you and your dirty habits.

Her face was red with pleasure. I wondered if she was a virgin spinster.

I touched her rough hand and thanked her for looking after Barker. I would have kissed her on her downy cheek if necessary.

A voice called to her urgently and off she went, smiling.

I felt in my pockets and suddenly was conscious of the spunk sodden handkerchief I must have dropped on the lino floor under Barker’s bed.

Sister would be noting this evidence of self abuse on Barker’s notes. Tut, tut.

To be continued …