I’m back at the dairy house. All three men have been milked twice and their sperm fast frozen and stored in ice trays in the zero-degree freezer. Corporal O’Connor has taken our bulls back to the barracks, fed, and has each man stretched out and tied spread eagle on their backs, using an electric razor to remove any pubic hair stubble left around their cocks and balls, since they must be shaved smooth in order that the milking sleeves make firm contact with each cock. He looks like a young man playing with new toys. He’s paying special attention to the Major’s ten-inch uncut cock, as he shaves around the base then up the underside to remove any stubble left from the first shaving. He seems to be mesmerized by the huge dick he’s handling.
I enter quietly and watch him hover over the Major then speak, “What you doing there Sean, trying to get a free meal?” He’s startled and looks up at me still holding the Major’s thick meat in his hands and says almost too embarrassed to speak but does, “Just couldn’t resist handling this big fucker…never seen anything like it and the Major doesn’t seem to mind…I’m thinking about taking a ride on this pony since I haven’t been fucked up my ass in a week or more.”
I laugh out loud moving closer to him speaking as I close in, “That big son of a bitch cock is for milking only…so keep that in mind. Each frozen cube of sperm means five hundred bucks in the bank, so you are not going to sit down on it now or ever, is that clear enough?”
“Yes, Sergeant I get it.”
“Good, now follow me to the house…I’m going to get you ready to be milked, you need to be shaved clean for the machine.”
“You’re going to shave me Sergeant…I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Never mind what you think is a good idea or not, just come along and we’ll talk about that later.”
“Ok, Sir…I’m right behind you.”
We walk to the house and go inside. The lights are off in the living room as we enter and as I’m reaching for the light switch, Sergeant O’Connor out of the darkness attacks his son dropping a black cloth sack over his head, knees him in his groin causing him to collapse on the deck and swiftly cuffs his hands behind his back. I hit the light switch to illuminate the room and see the Corporal curled up in a fetal position, hands cuffed behind his back and a black hood over his head and his father standing over his crumbled body and speaks to me, “Is this what you wanted Master?”
“Yes, this is exactly what I wanted…strip him down…this is going to be your uniform for the time being and I believe you wear the same size boot and you two could be twins as far as the uniform is concerned…I want to see you in it…you’ve been demoted for now.”
I search for and find the electric clippers and go to work shaving off the Corporal’s large dark patch of pubic hair above his dick, paying special attention to the underside of his cock that has a sparse line of pubic hair running almost to his dick head, shave that off, then attack his hairy balls. This takes a few minutes as I handle and move his nuts around in my palm careful to remove all of the pubic hair I find on his heavy globes.
Sergeant O’Connor removes the handcuffs from his son’s wrists and we work together to get the Corporal out of his uniform which is easy because he’s still trying to overcome the kick to his balls. I remove his blouse and undershirt, then his trousers and white boxers while the Sergeant is working to unlace his son’s combats. Sergeant O’Connor has an angry look on his face as he pulls both boots and green wool socks from his son’s feet and sets them aside saying, “You wanted a big dick up your ass son…how about me breeding you right here and now.” And having said that looks up at me and I nod my approval. He gets to work hauling his massive member out and without any hesitation rams his cock deep inside of his son’s shit channel causing him to scream loudly “Ahhhhhh…FUCK…FUCK..SHIT, YOU MOTHER FUCKER..AAAHHHH!”
The Sergeant pounds in and out of his son’s tight butt hole, drawing his ramrod mostly out of its tight glove, leaving the head surrounded by Sean’s tight ring, then goes back in swiftly causing the Marine under him to yell out into the quiet room, “AHHHH Dad, you’re tearing up my ass…AAAHHH!”
“You’re getting exactly what you gave me in the Sergeants office…you beat the fuck outta me while my hands were cuffed behind my back when I couldn’t protect myself, and now, you’re going to be walking bowlegged for a couple of days, so shut the fuck UP!”
“The Sergeant said that I was going to be your Master.”
“Well, Corporal asshole, he changed his mind…you are now part of the herd and we’re going to take all of that young spunk you have stored in your nuts and sell it to some very rich gay dudes…nothing more to be said about it.”
He pulls his stiff cum covered dick out of his son’s ass, after having injected his dad seed into the battered butt hole then rubs the dick head over Sean’s ruined ass, comes over to where I’m standing, falls to his knees, puts both strong arms around my legs hugging me in a tight embrace, his face nestled into my crotch. He looks like a lost dog who just found his home.
“Scott get dressed in his uniform and let’s get him to the milking barn.” I watch Scott quickly pull on his son’s Cammie uniform, tuck the trouser legs into the top of both boots, lace them up, pull Sean’s hands over the small of his back and cuff them, stand and then hoist his son over his broad muscular shoulders to carry him to the milking barn. I’m right behind him and watch as he sits his son’s bare ass down on one of the dildo chairs, eases him slowly down until his buttocks kiss the chair seat, drop the clear cylinder over his turgid cock and into the soft rubber sleeve, turns on the machine and the vibrating dildo. We watch his dick come alive and get sucked up, his swelling cock head reaches the top of the soft sleeve, the piss slit opening and closing as the machine continues to caress and suck. We watch his young dick bloat from the suction. You can hear the suction and gurgling as the Corporals dick stands tall trapped inside the clear tube. His head is back and his mouth open as the milking machine does what it does best, extracting milk from the cock teat of this young Marine.
Ten minutes later the first spurt of white thick cum shoots out of his dick head, then another and another and another, and another until the transparent hood is filled with young Marine sperm which is then sucked up the clear tube into the walk-in freezer and the waiting freezer tray.
Scott stands next to me, his left arm circling my waist and my hand on the back of his neck squeezing hard and caressing the stubble left from his last high-n-tight cut. I guess you’re wondering why I took Sergeant O’Connor away from his son and turned him into my servant, well the answer is this. He’s going to be a more reliable partner hunting down fresh prey for our farm. His son is just too erratic to be trusted to do the right thing at the right time and I just can’t jeopardies the operation no matter how much I desire this young stud. No, he’s better locked down and out of trouble.
I’ve received a ton of request over our encrypted mail service. These are some of the richest gay men in the country, the world actually, and they have two things in common, first, they are all exceedingly wealthy and have resources beyond any normal person. And second, they all can afford to purchase certified Marine Corps sperm from a reliable source that they can trust, and they crave the taste of fresh Marine cum which they know I can provide, so, we’re in business, but in need of fresh meat.
I’ll be sending out samples in a day or two, so we will have to replenish our supply after the samples go out. The Sergeant and I will be traveling the three hours or so up to Camp Lejeune to scout out Marine prey. This time we are only going to capture a couple of Marines so as not to create suspicion of the disappearances. It’s not unusual for a Marine to go AWOL, it happens all the time, so no problem there.
Our first stop will be the “Globe and Anchor” bar on the second front in Jacksonville, N.C. It’s a long weekend and young Marine studs will be out to have a good time, get drunk, get laid if they’re lucky. And if we’re lucky, we’re going to bring home two hogtied young men for the farm.
We are going to dress civilian and that means that I’ll be wearing the Colonel’s black cowboy boots I confiscated from him on our first encounter and Scott will be wearing his own expensive cowboy boots and his original western rig and I will be in western jeans and the Colonel’s pearl snap western shirt and white Stetson straw hat and Scott will be wearing his own black Stetson hat. We’ll look like Marines from Montana or some other western state. No one will be the wiser.
We travel the three hours to Jacksonville and to the “Globe and Anchor” bar. The bar is at full capacity. It’s Friday night and there must be a hundred or so Marines standing around the semi-circular bar, shooting pool or playing video war games. I don’t know when I’ve seen so many young Marines in the same place and all of them getting smashed. I work myself between two Marines holding long neck Budweiser’s to their lips, chugging down bottle after bottle of the brew and smoking cigarette after cigarette adding to the smoke haze hanging over the entire interior of the bar. The music is loud and country, you can’t hear much more than the continuing lyric of “she done me wrong” in its many variations. The Marine to my right is over the mark drunk and swaying with the music, his body touching mine, his boots rubbing against mine on the foot rail. It seems that half of the young men in the bar in some form or other are cowboys, either authentic, or want to be cowboys. I can smell his warm body odor, his underarm sweat and the Old Spice he splashed over his freshly shaved handsome face mixed with pure young male hormones. He looks over to me with a big smile showing mostly straight white teeth and says, “Gotta hit the head…my snake is calling to me.” reaching down to adjust the meat dangling down his jeans leg. “Yeah…me too I say slapping him gently on his back…after you.”
He stands and walks unsteadily to the door marked “Bulls” the door six feet away, is marked, “Cows”. I’m watching the hard mounds of his ass fight each other inside of their tight denim enclosure. He has the gate of a farmer or cattle rancher; his steps are wide and unsteady. There is no waiting line as I follow him into the interior and stand next to him in front of a six-foot long stainless- steel piss catcher. He fumbles with the zipper in his jeans to finally pull out a long thick tool, it must be eight or nine inches, thick with a large bulbous mushroom head. He aims it into the piss catcher, standing there holding on to the head waiting for the event to happen which It does after a few seconds, spraying a wide arching clear yellow piss stream that strikes the steel sink making a sound of rain on a ten roof, looks over to me and smiles that contented look of getting the relief he waited for. He sees me looking at his hog, smiles all the while staring into my eyes, swaying a little, his left arm stretched out, the palm resting on the wall in front of us over the piss catcher. I pull my inflating pole out into open air, pull on it sending my hand all the way up to the head to squeeze attempting to relax it so that I can join him in this piss fest. Finally, my bladder releases my stored beer and joins his stream hitting the piss sink, mingling with his clear yellow offering.
The young Marine turns to me, the dick hanging out of the opening in his jeans looks like an escaped boa constrictor hanging down in front of him, he stares at my fuck pole that is starting to inflate and stand tall. He eyes me from my boots to Stetson and speaks, “Looks like you’re ready to go hunting…that gun of yours looks loaded for bear.” “Yeah, it is, and yours too.”
He smiles and throws his hand in my direction, “Howdy cowboy…I’m Lance Corporal Kelley…Trent Kelley, and who might you be?” “I’m Staff Sergeant Collins…Master Collins, glad to meet you cowboy.” “Now, that’s some handle you got there…I like that name…but it must scare off a lot of young broncs.” “Yeah, a few turns, and go in the other direction, but not that many.”
We both put our cocks back inside our jeans and go back to the bar, however our place at the bar has been taken by Sergeant O’Connor who has worked himself between two six feet plus studs throwing back beer after beer and chatting him up. They both look to be mid-twenties or a little older, perhaps pushing thirty, but rugged and handsome as fuck. The tallest one resembles a young Clint Eastwood and the other looks like the young cowboy from the old television show Wagon Train, both either real cowboys or damn good imitations. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many cowboy boots wearing Marines in one place before. You’d think this was a convention of ranchers brought together by the Corps.
Lance Corporal Trent Kelly and I make our way over to a small round table in the far corner of the bar and sit next to each other on the wooden bench provided. It’s easy to see that this young Marine is not used to drinking and is swaying from time to time his shoulder rubbing against mine and his cowboy boot next to mine rubbing leather against leather. I rest my hand on his knee and squeeze. He puts his hand over my hand holding it as I fondle his knee. There is a faraway look in his eyes as if he’s remembering a pleasant past experience. Damn! What a handsome young man he is indeed. Chiseled features, unblemished tanned skin as if he was carved out of precious marble, square prominent jawline, high flushed cheek bones, heavy straight brows, long thick brown eye lashes, dark brown eyes, full lips that turn up at the corners when he smiles, slightly crocked, but mostly straight white teeth and ears that are large and rounded, maybe stick out just a little too far, made more noticeable by his perfect and fresh high-n-tight regulation haircut.
I can see he’s ripe for the taking, so I suggest that we step out back to get some fresh air since the bar is so smoke filled. He nods his head in acceptance and we walk to the back door of the bar, him leaning on me as I lead the way. I guide him over to my paddy wagon and see the look of surprise on his face as he realizes that my vehicle is a Marine Corps paddy wagon, the he speaks his words slurred and slow, “Damn Sergeant Collins…is this your paddy wagon?” “It sure is”, I reply. “No kidding,’ he speaks, “I never been inside of one of these things…guess I’m just too good a boy to fuck up and get captured.” “Well, you know that might change.”
I can see the puzzled look on his young face, his eye brows go up in a questioning expression. And says, “You goona arrest me Sergeant…take me to jail?” he slurs taking a step back…” I ain’t done nothing wrong have I?” he says in a kidding way, “No Lance Corporal, you haven’t done anything wrong.” I say as I reach into my right back pocket and take out my nickel-plated handcuffs saying as I try to sooth him speaking, “If you’d broken any military laws I’d be doing this to you.” I show him the handcuffs while taking his right hand, slapping the cuff over his wrist then take the other hand, turn him around and cuff both hands behind his back.
“Looks like you got me for real Sergeant.” He says laughing a little as I open the side door of my wagon. “Ever see the inside of one of these things Trent?” “No, never seen the inside of one of these things.” I push him toward the open door and say, “Let me give you the twenty-five-cent tour then.” I push and cause him to enter the interior and go down on his knees as I climb in behind him and slam the door closed.
I grab a coil of rope, bring his boots together wrapping several lengths of rope around the shafts, tighten then tie off bringing his boot heels up to his cuffed hands and attach his boots to his hands.
“Why you got me hogtied Sergeant?... what’s happening man? Let me out of here!” I pick up a green bandanna, knot it, pinch his nose closed then stuff the handkerchief into his mouth, grab a roll of grey duct tape from the floor and wind it around his head twice, then tear it off.
“Welcome to my world Marine…we’re going to have a shit load of fun before this is over!”
In the meantime, Sergeant O’Connor has his arm around the shoulder of the Marine who resembles a young Clint Eastwood. He’s well over six feet three, somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred and twenty-five pounds, black Stetson hat pushed back on his forehead highlighting clear blue eyes, slight dark stubble covering his handsome face. The pal who was with him earlier has split leaving him in the clutches of Scott who is getting very chummy with his new cowboy friend and speaks looking over at the left hand clutching his Budweiser, “You’re a married dude huh?” “Yeah…got hitched two months ago…she’s back home in South Dakota with her ranching family…just staying with them until The Corps comes up with some housing for us…been awhile since I seen her and I gotta tell ya, my fucking nuts are going wild looking for some pussy.” “What’s your name pal?” “I’m Sergeant Hank Miller, what’s yours? “Howdy Hank…I’m Sergeant Scott O’Connor…glad to meet up with you.” “Same here man.” He says extending a large calloused hand which I take and squeeze and he does the same.”
“Well, maybe I can help you out there…I know two local girls who love Marine Corps dick…you think you could handle two at a time? They’re pretty fucking wild man.” He looks me over and has a slight suspicious grin on his face and says, “Hell man…I can handle an entire herd of sweet babes…but I gotta go water the horses…be right back.” He says turning to walk to the head.”
Scott hails the bartender and orders two shots of JD while reaching into his right front pocket to pull out a zip lock bag containing several white pills. When the shots arrive, he drops one of the white pills into one of the shot glasses and waits for it to dissolve.
Five minutes later Hank returns from the head. Scott notices a wide piss stain on the crotch of his new friend’s jeans and supposes he didn’t quite make it to the head in time. The wide piss area on his jeans highlights the sleeping hog and cum tanks nestled beneath. Scott smiles and slaps his new Marine cowboy buddy on his back allowing his hand to trail down and brush against the other man’s hard ass mounds, picks up the shot glass containing the dissolved pill and hands it to Hank, they clink the shot glass together and he watches as Hank downs his shot, then slams the glass down on the counter top. “Hot damn…that’s what I’m talking about!” Scott does the same. They continue to talk about horses and pussy. Scott is watching Hank carefully as the Marine begins to react to the pill, slurring his words while reaching over to Scott for support. “Hey man.” Scott says to him, “You need some fresh air dude…come on, let’s get you out of here for a while.”
Sergeant O’Connor grabs Hank’s right arm and slings it over his own shoulder gripping the others wrists as he guides him out of the back door of the bar into the parking lot and over to the paddy wagon where his partner in crime is standing. Sergeant Millers head is down, chin almost touching his chest.
“What do we have here Sergeant O’Connor?”
“We got us a horn dog looking for some pussy and I told him about the two local tramps looking for some Marine Corps dick and here we are…afraid he’s totally out of it, so let’s get him inside and secured…I’m talking Prime AAAA Marine Corps beef…money in the bank.
We lift and put Sergeant Miller in the back of our paddy wagon next to Lance Corporal Kelley, cuff his hands over the small of his back, no need to tie is feet since he’ll be out for several hours, but we do tape his mouth to keep him quiet should he come around during out trip to the farm.
The trip back to the dairy seems longer for some reason. I guess it’s our new cargo that has me excited and impatient, but soon enough we’ll have them locked away, shaved and milked. Our little enterprise is off and running, but we do need more Marine beef and will go hunting for prey again soon. Sergeant O’Connor has his hands over my crotch playing with his favorite toy.
Chapter 11 will bring challenges for Sergeant Collins as he and Sergeant O’Connor go hunting for more Marine prey. Trouble is on the way.
