A Sequel
Part One
Life at our secluded timber built two story cabin that was purchased by Major Fielding soon after we arrived at the Northwest Air Force Base has fallen into a daily routine. Up at O600 HRS, breakfast created by me, served and cleared. I prepair the Major’s uniform, making certain that it’s the correct uniform of the day. The usual blow job for the Major before he hits the shower. I’m always ready to fall to my knees and take the swollen stallion dick head into his mouth, play with the underside of the bloated helmet with the tip of my eager tongue to finally be rewarded with a huge creamy splash of Zoomie baby batter, which I eagerly swallow with gusto. This morning something was just a little different, a little off kilter. The Major seemed to be less aggressive which was his usual style. He seemed to be almost passive as he gave me his usual morning cum breakfast.
“Scott, I want us to sit down and have a talk when I get off duty today, there is something that has been on my mind for a few days, actually, a few weeks that I want to discuss with you tonight.”
My stomach muscles suddenly tense under my Cammie blouse. The Major insisted soon after our arrival that I always dress in my Marine field uniform at all times when we are at home and no visitors are present, so I keep my Marine digital Cammie’s starched, and the bottoms concealed inside the tops of my combats showing off more of the glossy boot leather.
I had already laid out Major Fielding’s tiger print field battle dress uniform on the king-sized bed, his brown jungle boots on the floor at the end of the bed, and stood waiting for him to emerge from the shower hearing the tap being shut off. The Major stepped out with a generous white towel wrapped around his narrow waist. With a towel in hand I rush quickly to him in an effort to assist in the drying.
“Don’t do that, I can dry myself!”
Taking a step back to catch my breath I throw the towel over my shoulder, nod acknowledging his request while I search those brilliant green eyes of his, they have a distant stare that ignores me and goes over my head.
“Is there anything wrong Sir, did I do something that displeased you?”
“There is nothing wrong Sergeant, when I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”
“Right Sir, may I help you into your uniform and boots?”
“No, just go about your business and I’ll call you if I need your help”
I turn on my heels and exit the room without looking back, close the door and go into the kitchen to pour myself a mug of coffee, which I do and raise the steaming black liquid to my lips, purse them and blow cooling air over the top of the mug, then take a tentative swallow. Something is wrong this morning I muse to myself standing in the kitchen my firm ass mounds clenched. What did I do to cause him to withdraw from me? It must have been something I said last night while he was fucking me, but I don’t know what it might have been. I remember yelling out while he fucked me doggy style, when the head of his horse cock jammed my prostate, “You’re the Master, you’re the Master!” That’s when he slapped the back of my head with his open palm, pulled out without finishing up, just got off the bed and stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.
I hear him exit the bedroom and come into the kitchen where I’m standing. He’s fully dressed in his Air Force battle uniform and looks like a God down from Mount Olympus. His thin lips are tight and pulled over brilliant white teeth but relaxes his face muscles, opens his mouth and speaks. “I’ll be home half past 1600 HRS, and we can have the talk I mention earlier.”
“Yes, Sir Major, I’ll be waiting. Do you want me to phone for a pizza or something?”
“Right, something simple and make certain the liquor cabinet is stocked. I might want to have a Jack Daniels and coke tonight.”
“Yes, Sir, I’ll have everything ready. Anything else?”
“No, just the pizza and JD, and we can talk.”
He walks to the front door without looking back and exits closing the door quietly behind. I go to the double front window at the front of the house and watch as he opens the door of his white SUV, settles in the driver’s command seating, starts the engine and drives off down the dirt road away from our cabin.
I spend the remainder of the day looking for something to do to take my mind off the events of this morning. Spit-shine a pair of my combats remembering back to Boot Camp at Paris Island the way I felt squaring away my uniforms, how it made me feel like a part of something bigger than myself. Being a United States Marine but at that time just a recruit, made me feel whole and present anyway. I know that I have done things in the past that disgraced the uniform. My time spent with Sergeant Collins at the Dairy Farm, and everything we did collecting unsuspecting Marines to be sold to the highest bidder made me feel sick to my stomach, but there is little or nothing I can do to undo those dark days, nothing. The only thing that saved my self-respect was rejecting half of the bank account with the funds stored away from our sale of Marine slaves.
It’s half past 1600 HRS and the wheels of the Major’s SUV spinning gravel underneath telegraphing his arrival. He parks the vehicle in back of the cabin. I can hear him slam the door and enter and climb the staircase from the first level of the garage into the house proper, his heavy boots heralding his arrival. The lower level of the garage is underground. Transformed into a dungeon replete with leather sling, wooden beams across the ceiling, a St. Andrews Cross, a couple of large cages big enough to accommodate a large man or beast. I should know because I’ve been in one of them. And a wall hung with many coils of thick rope, stainless steel shackles and cuffs, whips of all descriptions, electrical devices of every kind, black dildos, black leather hoods and harnesses. In other words, a complete playroom fit for a man determined to take from another man anything he desires by force if necessary.
I turn and see him standing silently in the doorway that leads up from the garage. He walks toward me and speaks softly. “How about that JD Sergeant, I could use It about now?”
“Yes, Sir, right away I’ll fetch it pronto.” I say, turn and go as fast as I can without running to the liquor cabinet where I already have a bucket of ice waiting. Mix his JD, a double shot, with the coke over cracked ice, and give it to him. He takes the glass, turns it up and drinks down the entire full glass.
“Another, and keep them coming, I’m dry as the Sahara, and have one for yourself.”
“Yes, Sir Major.” I say going back to the liquor cabinet and return with two full glasses handing one to him which he takes from me and downs quickly. I watch him closely as he begins to get drunk, beginning to slur his words as we walk over to the long black leather sofa that stands in front of a broad stone carved fireplace occupying a large portion of the front windowed wall. His arm draped over my shoulders as we approach the sofa. He sits down and puts his boots up on the heavy wooden coffee table, crossed at the ankles. “Get me unnother JD he slurs, handing the empty glass to me, I want to tell you sumthing.”
I bring the full glass back and hand it to him. I watch him sip his drink this time instead of chugging it as before. “Shitt down Scott, lay your head on the end there” he says pointing to arm of the sofa to my left. “Stretch out and put your boots heels on my crotch, I wanna feel summthing heavy on my dick and yourrr the man to do it.” I do as I’m instructed, lie down on my back, rest my head on the arm and raise my black combats up and drop them gently, landing the heels on the top of the cock hidden under his field uniform.
He grabs my boots tightly over the laces and grinds them into his swelling cock, eyes closed, head back as he silently takes advantage of my heavy Marine boot leather masturbating himself. “Yeahhh, that’s right, fucking everybody wants this horse cock up their shit holes or in their pussies, but what about me, I don’t get nothing, NOTHING. Just get used for my meat, thattts all, just used, righttt Sergeant, just fucking useddd!”
I take my boots from his hands and sit up next to him. He’s pretty much out of it by now. I don’t know if he means anything he’s been saying to me or to this empty room. Is he talking to me for real? Does he mean anything coming out of his drunken mouth?
His head is lying on the back of the sofa, lolling slowly side to side. I put a hand behind his neck and pull his mouth to mine, press my lips onto his. The tip of my tongue surveying the entry into his warm mouth opening as I wet his lips and force the tip of mine to gain entry into this stud of a man. His spit tastes dark but sweet. I suck his tongue into my mouth and play with it as he moans into my open fissure. “Watchua doing, whatchua doing?”
I release his head and watch it drop back to the sofa, rocking slowly side to side, his eyes closed, his mouth open breathing quietly, a dribble of spit leaves the corner of his mouth to runs down his chin onto the top opening of his undershirt.
He’s almost out cold so I can take my time enjoying the meal so playfully presented to this hungry grunt. With trembling fingers, I open all of the buttons of his BDU blouse down to his web belt, pull him toward me to feel his muscular body heat against mine and remove it. Grab the bottom of his white undershirt and lift it up and over his head stopping only briefly to hold the shirt to my nose to take in the sweaty manly scent coming from the pits. Raise first his left arm, and move forward to nuzzle into its hairy cavity, smear my face with his fetid and piquant manly pit dampness. Then raise the right arm to perform the same ritual, nuzzling, licking, chewing the red pit hairs as I swallow his afternoon pit juice cocktail. And there before me moving slowly up and down in a steady rhythm are two hard mounds of Air Force peck meat thickly furred with red swirls of matted chest hair surrounding two tall pink nubs standing in the center of round brown circles. His red chest hair becomes a little sparser to cover rippling hard worked out abdominals. Eyeing his tight six pack of Air Force gym worked out muscle. I can’t resist so I lowering my mouth to the left nub, lick, bite and suck it into the vacuum I ‘ve created, feeling it plump to stand tall between my teeth. The Major’s mouth hangs open as he drags in jagged breaths while I nurse on his man tit.
Looking down on my sleeping Prince I know what lies in the crotch of his BDU trousers, how it tastes. Its length, its girth, what the head looks like swollen, how the lips part and almost smile when thick gushes of clear prostate juice leaks out to drench the shaft with its steady flow. But tonight, I’m interested in his tight rose bud, the sphincter I dream about invading and this is the evening my dreams will come true. He all but invited me inside with his talk about being used only for his stallion cock. The meat that everyone wants up their shithole or in their pussies. Yes, he’s fucked his share of female cunts and knows why they continue to seek him out. The General’s wives, the Top Sergeants main squeeze, the grunts daughters who spot his horse cock and crave it like an addiction uncontrolled and constant. Yeah, he knows it. But tonight, he belongs to me and I’m going to take him the same way Sergeant Collins took him in the back of our van traveling to the farm. That’s exactly what he craves but has to get messed up in order to fulfill that dark fantasy. “To thine own self be true.” This will be the night that all of his suppressed dreams come true. This the enchanted fucked up evening only I can bring to him and he knows it. But had to get drunk out of his mind to accept it. Anyway, he’s mine tonight!
I get busy removing his BDU trousers and the white boxers he wears in order to show off his dangling equipment. First his web belt, all the way out of its loops then thrown casually onto the sofa, next his trousers pushed down to the tops of his jungle boots, then the boxers. I want to leave the jungle boots on his feet simply because I love military foot gear and his size 12’s are always calling to me. I pull his trousers along with the white boxers off and discard them.
He is definitely out cold now and ain’t going nowhere except over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry down the steps to the dungeon we built for unsuspecting Air Men, Zoomie-of-the-Day, so to speak. He’s had more than a few down there, hogtied in a cage, stretched on the cross, or whatever comes to his mind at the time. And they come to him like lemmings headed for the cliff. That’s how magnetic this hot fucker is to everyone who crosses his path.
I put his hands together and use all of my strength to lift him into a standing position, put my shoulder to his hips, and raise him up. His flaccid man meat squarely in my face inundating me with a bouquet of his heady man stink. I can almost, but not quite reach the head of his enormous hanging prize with the tip of my tongue to collect a clear drop of pre, desperately clinging to its parted lips.
The trip down the stairs requires all I can give. He is not a lightweight by any means. His six-foot-two frame and at one hundred and seventy pounds requires all I can manage. Finally, we arrive and deposit him in the middle of the hanging black leather sling. That fucking thing that I have been secured in, as have many young Air Men.
I take first the left hand and bring it high and wide to the top of the sling and encircle his wrist with the black leather cuff. Lock it, then do the same with his right wrist. Grab both of his legs and pull until his boots reach the waiting stirrups. Put them in the stirrups and close the wide leather cuff around both boots and lock. His ass is now at the bottom edge of the sling and looks like a meal ready to be served.
Fucking damn, I want to eat out his shit hole, taste the man from the inside. I take my time to enjoy the Air Force ass that calls to me every minute of every day. I’ve watched it move around under his BDU trousers and although I’ve been up there with my tongue, it was always at his command and urging. Now that I have him prisoner in his own dungeon -- I’m going to extract anything I desire, anything! And his Zoomie hole is what I’m after tonight.
I can smell his vulnerability as he lays stretched out like the catch of the day. He ain’t so tough now. He ain’t giving orders causing me to snap to every time he enters a room, no, he’s just another poor sucker snatched off the street and owned.
I move in unhurriedly, to savor the prey I’ve bagged. My nose caresses his pink sphincter causing it to involuntarily tighten, seeking to remain closed tightly to protect the gates to his innards. But I have the battering ram schooled in the process of breaching the door to his hidden kingdom. I have the key, a stiff Marine spear brave enough to go where the brave dare not go. So, I pry open his hard cheeks and push my face between two hard mounds of Zoomie flesh. My tongue slipping inside of the warm forbidden chamber to taste the wetness there. Not unlike licking a steak before it’s thrown on the grill, but who does that? It opens up for me, the rim of his sphincter between my teeth as I suck and chew delicately causing it to puff slightly forming a welcoming gateway to his inner chamber, warm and inviting. I push my spear deeper and deeper up his channel wishing it was long enough to reach the button of all buttons, his magic lubrication factory. The Major is opening slowly signaling it’s time to mount and ride this stallion across the open plains. To break and saddle this bucking bronc.
I have my boots spread wide standing at the bottom of the sling. Look up at the Major still out cold. I reach down, unbutton my Cammie trousers and haul out my mauling tool. It’s already full of blood and hard as an iron poker, the head covered with fresh lubrication directly from my own Marine factory. Step forward not even holding my weapon, but allowing the heat seeking missile to find its target. I grab his jungle boots, nudge the swollen crown over his well lubricated welcoming ass lips and tease his sphincter with it. I enter to feel the warm walls of his hidden passage close around my shaft like a well fitted leather glove. I’m inside and feel like I own the entire world. This is the man I love and admire and somehow because of what happened to him being the prisoner of Sergeant Collins, has developed a type of Stockholm Syndrome, I think that’s what they call it -- transference or something like that. But that’s just the guess of a Marine grunt who don’t know much about nothing, being only a high school graduate compared to a scholar like the Major. I only know what I know and that won’t carry a man very far these days.
Up on the toes of my combats I push all the way in until my balls are hanging below the edge of the sling. I begin a slow grind pulling almost all the way out just keeping the dick head snugly encased inside of his clinging ass lips. I push again the head striking his button which causes his horse dick to raise up and stand tall with each thrust of my hips. My hairy nuts are pulled tight against my body ready to unload. I want this conquest to last, however, my balls erupt like Mount Saint Helens spewing their content inside of the Major. At the same time his stallion cock begins to tremble and throb. It lurches and spews heavy bolts of white cream into the humid air landing on his hairy abs and chest.
All I want to do now as I come down from the highest of highs is to stay inside of his body, but the matted red chest fur and the cum surrounding his right nub is calling to me. I pull out slowly allowing my cock to deflate and hang dripping excess sperm to the deck. I stand next to his cum covered body and lean over and suck the jizz from his matted red chest. Working my way over to his tit to lick and suck up his spunk.
As I suck his right tit nub, nursing and biting on its swollen flesh, slurping up the salty and tangy sperm he unloaded, I hear him hum and groan. I continue to suck, finally to be rewarded with a drop of his man milk. I straighten up tall to see his green eyes open wide, and questioning. His mouth starting to form words. Even in his drunken state he knows and realizes he’s been taken. For now, there is little he can do about it, being stretched out on his back and helpless.
“You gonna let me go Scott, you know this is not the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Hell NO! I ain’t about to let you go buddy boy. This is a long weekend and I’ve got a lot of plans for your Zoomie ass. So, relax and let it happen because there ain’t a damned thing you can do about it. I own your fucking ass, the whole Goddamned package. Nothing more to be said, so shut the fuck up before I ram a fist down your throat and rip your guts out through your mouth!”
I can see the resolution and perhaps the joy on his face as I turn and go up the stairs. If this wasn’t what he craved, and I somehow knew it was, I never would have done it. But now I’m determined to see this through to the very end, whatever that means. I don’t know. All I know is I still love and respect him, but if this is what he wants deep down inside, I’m here to make his dark fantasy come to life.
