Desert Storm is in its second week and we've been going non-stop. What with the adrenaline, the action and the heat – shit, I reckon I'm living with a permanent hard-on!
I've just touched down after my third sortie of the night, bombing shit out of `strategic' sites around Baghdad. It is early morning and I am fizzing with elation and a roaring boner. As I taxy in, the support ground crew are ready and waiting for me, they swarm around and begin the long preparation of my FGR-1A for the next series of sorties. I jump down on to the tarmac as a trailer load of missiles pulls up. The sergeant armourer driving it yells at the ground crew to unhook his load as he's got to take me over to HQ for debriefing. Next minute, I'm sitting next to this well muscled hunky guy, roaring across the pan. He is a giant, only wearing rolled up greasy shorts as a faint nod in the direction of decency and heavy boots to protect his feet. He has a deeply tanned body that a Greek god would die for and his massive chest is covered with a rug of chest hair, arms and legs like hairy tree trunks.
"You fly boys," he growls, "get all the perks ... you get driven around, can get as much bacon and eggs as you can eat whenever you like, lie around in your wanking pits most of the day. No wonder you're all pink and soft."
If any other NCO had said that to me I'd have had him on a fizzer without thinking twice but something about the way this one spoke made me grin. I may have been built smaller than him – Christ, most of the world would have been! – but I am still in good shape. You have to be to handle one of these beasts I fly. I'm beginning to feel randy just sitting beside this guy and something makes me commit a mortal sin. I unzip my jump suit all the way down to my crotch just so he can get a glimpse of my taut, lean body. A very unmilitary thing for a commissioned officer to do!
Bouncing around over the rough surfaces of the dispersal pans, I watch him check me out as I bare more of myself to him. He's artful about it, just a quick glance now and again, but I can tell through the reflection in his wrap-arounds just what he's looking at. I guess the fact I never wear a jock or anything else under my jump suit because of the heat allows him to get an eyeful of a lot more than he had bargained for.
I put my hand on my chest, absent mindedly working a nipple into a hard peak, rubbing my pecs and flat stomach with the palm of my hand and pushing my crotch forward to let my hard-on become obvious through my outfit. He watches me closely, casual like – like bullshit! I can tell he's enjoying the unexpected early morning cabaret and that he's getting really turned on. We roar past the turn-off for HQ and head down the side road between some temporary hangars to what looks like a big tool shed. "Just gotta dump some stuff off here," he growls as we lurch to a halt.
He disappears through a side door into the shed. After a couple of minutes, I wander in to check out what's happening. Sure enough, there he is, lying back over some crates. In the semi-darkness his body looks even more magnificent, tanned and hairy. There is also a good WOW-sized bulge in the oil stained greasy smelly shorts, cupped in his hands as he strokes himself up for me. I rip off my jump suit, letting it drop to the dirt floor. I kneel down in front of this massive all-male guy, pushing my head into his crotch. I smell a heady mixture of sweat, male sex, dried piss, and aviation fuel. I chomp through the fabric of his heavily cum stained shorts on to his raging cock. With little ceremony, I grab hold of the sperm stiffened shorts and rip them down, releasing a handsome, heavily veined cock, throbbing and jigging, demanding to be taken into my hot waiting mouth. I have to stretch my mouth fully open in order to fit around his cock head and the thick shaft. I push my lips down to the wiry crotch hair and he oozes pre-cum as I hungrily feast on his ramrod meat. Without warning he moans and heaves, driving a bucketful of cum into my mouth, so much I can't swallow all of it and it leaks out, runs down my jaw and drips on to my chest. It is hot and salty – real man stuff.
I lick him clean and he lifts me up under my armpits, roughly and forcefully spins me round and pushes me face down on to the crates. He squats down behind me and tongues out my sweaty arse. He works on me feverishly, right up there, probing into me, all the way up as far as he can reach. Standing up he rams his big fat cock straight up me, no warning, no finesse. It is as if a steam hammer was driving into my arse. He fucks me fast and hard, his muscled arms wrapped around me, pulling me back on to his magnificent chest. Pumping and thrusting, he strokes my chest and pulsating cock with those huge hands of his, making me cum just as he fires another load of hot creamy man-missiles into my spasming rectum. Christ! It's so good!
"Better get you back to HQ," he gibes as he cleans up, "don't want the brass thinking I've seduced and ravished you ... Sir." I leer at him, my arse raw and full of cum. We drive back to HQ in silence but when he drops me off, he quite casually says, "I'll have another load for you to look forward to tomorrow, Sir."
"Why not, Sergeant?" I reply, deliberately using his rank to remind him I am the one holding Her Majesty's commission round here. I jump out of the trailer, grab my pack and head for my delayed debriefing. "Smart arse mother fucker!" I say to myself as I contemplate the prospect of having to be on call any time that he wants to unload his balls. Meanwhile, folks, I'd better get ready to face the Wing Commander's wrath at being late for debrief.
The following night's sortie over Baghdad and the thumping we gave Saddam's merry men was nothing in comparison to the pounding my arse had taken the day before from that bastard sergeant armourer. My arsehole still tingled with the thrill I'd had at being fucked by that bull of a man. I was still twitching twenty-four hours later!
My machine gave me another good run and I made a perfect approach to set things up to make a perfect landing back at base. However, my mind was still full of horny, lewd thoughts of what might be waiting for me and I'd completely forgotten one of the most important unwritten laws in the combat pilot's primer: ALWAYS EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED.
Just as I touched down some maniac driving a refuelling tanker swerved on to the tarmac almost in front of me and, using the runway like a speedway track, sped up towards the distant dispersal. I had no option but to blast on the reverse thrust early and pray to all the devils in hell that I would slither to a halt in half the usual distance. My hard-on disappeared fast, I can tell you! I screamed at the rapidly disappearing arse end of that bloody tanker, "Fucking shithead!" Luckily no one heard as the cockpit canopy was still closed. But I had forgotten I was still in radio contact with the tower!
The action of easing my jet into her accustomed spot on the pan restored some equilibrium to one thoroughly shaken pilot. Having recovered quickly from being that close to being obliterated in a huge fireball, I began the shut down procedure. I sat in my seat quivering like a jelly on a plate at a rowdy kid's party, only to have my concentration broken as the sergeant armourer pulled up in his jeep next to my jet. He came as close as he dared to the plane and shouted up to me over the final shut down whine of the engines.
"Couldn't you fuckin' wait to get to me, you stupid fuckin' cunt? You could have caused one fuckin' almighty pile of fuckin' messy shit the way you slammed that thing to a standstill!"
Climbing out of the cockpit, I threw him one hell of a vicious look that said, as clearly as possible, "You're getting pretty close to a Court Martial, Sergeant!" I took a deep breath and said, as calmly as I could, "Yeah, right. Just who was that fucking jerk?"
"Oh, you mean the driver of that tanker. He's some spotty kid just out from the UK. He was trying to let me know he's around and available. He likes having his arsehole fucked as much as you do – Sir," he replied, grinning salaciously. As usual, he was only wearing his oil stained greasy shorts and boots.
It suddenly occurred to me that this guy was worse than any animal, driving around the base looking for somewhere to park his ever-ready schlong. Jeez, that kid tanker driver couldn't have been out here any longer than forty-eight hours and in that time he'd already discovered what was on offer and got himself on the sergeant's long term list of good shags!
"Well, Sergeant, you'd better get on with doing whatever it is you gotta do and get me down to HQ." I was calming down a bit but still felt as panicky as a Mexican jumping bean on a hot griddle. Any thoughts of rumpy-pumpy in the stores shed had fled along with my hard-on.
"Sir! Yes, Sir!" Mimicking our American allies, he threw up a GI style salute and taunted me for what he later christened my "...little outbreak of pique" by breaking into a reasonably good parody of an all-American accent. He watched me as I collected my stuff together and tossed it into the back of his vehicle.
"C'mon, sergeant," I commanded in my officer to NCO voice, "I want to get this show over and get some of them bacon and eggs you're always on about."
Knowing I'd find his fart arseing around bloody annoying, particularly as he would be well aware I'd be anxious to report the `near miss', he deliberately delayed making straight for HQ and the debrief. Switching to mock Japanese, he bowed low and spoke in a high falsetto voice.
"Will Sir pliz to step into honolable jeep so miselable sergeant can take honolable Sir to the wo'kshop sto'es, where this so miselable and unworthy `umble sergeant can fuck tasty commission' officer's ass. Sir!"
I thanked every one of my lucky stars no one else was around. I felt absolutely certain he'd have said exactly the same had there been other airmen or even officers within earshot. On reflection, though, he would probably have been fucking them, as well! All I craved right then was for his hot mouth to eat out my aching arse before he ploughed my eagerly waiting hole with his juicy fat cock.
As I clambered into the jeep beside him, I noticed a brawny RAF Regiment corporal standing in the early morning shadows beside one of the maintenance hangars, watching us. A thin chill of apprehension crept into my stomach. What if he knew all about this sergeant and his activities? Knowing the Regiment guys like I did, would he report seeing me get into the jeep? Normally, the Regiment guys were keener than the RAF Police about reporting anyone behaving in a manner they would term as `suspicious'. If he did report what he had seen, he would make damn sure to emphasise I was in the company of Sergeant Norman. I was about to draw the sergeant's attention to this unwanted observer when he crashed through the gears and roared off down the track towards the same stores shed where I'd been initiated yesterday. I thought, "Oh, fucking forget it. The corporal probably didn't see much, anyway." As we screeched to a halt outside the shed I said, "Is this where you bring all your tricks?"
"Not all of em," he replied with a leer as he opened the shed door. "There's a couple I always have it away with in the Officers' Mess but most of em I find in the men's barracks."
"Shit! Where do you find the time and the energy?"
"Dunno," he replied, "just you wave your hot little hole in my direction and I'll find time and place to get into it. I've got to admit, Sir, you're one of the best fucks among the current crop."
Now we were safely inside that shed, I just stood and stared like a sex starved teenager at that manly body, the broad tanned chest and shoulders, the mat of chest hair leading down to his muscled stomach and on to his crotch. Within seconds, he'd taken off his shorts and his half-hard cock was already eagerly waiting for my hot mouth.
He pushed my head roughly on to his waiting, leaking dick and I savoured the sweet, sticky taste, taking him fully into my mouth and down my throat. It tasted so good and I sucked his dick and ate his sweaty balls as if I was a schoolboy left alone in a sweetie shop. Cupping his hands behind my head, he forced me up and down the length of his rampant shaft. As before, he dumped his load in no time, pumping thick wads of jism down my throat. Fuck! He tasted good! I held him in my mouth, swallowing greedily, but still the excess leaked down my chin, across my flying suit and chest.
Christ! It had all happened so quickly I was still in my jump suit. I ripped it off and clambered up on to the same old crates, offering my hungry arse to him. He needed no encouragement and was in there eating as if he was a starving man. His thick tongue pushed right up my tight pink cherry, probing further into my burning hole. His calloused hands pulled my arse cheeks apart, wide apart, displaying me as his face buried itself in my arse. He was unshaven and the rough stubble of his jaw rubbed sharply against me, adding to the lust already flooding my body. First one, then two of his thick stubby fingers worked their way into my passage as he licked and sucked me. A third finger somehow managed to squeeze itself in to join the first two and the trio jammed up me roughly but he had done such a good job with his tongue that I opened up to take him easily.
"Fuck me!" I moaned. I was desperate for some solid man flesh to fill my twitching hole.
"Yes, Sir!" he eagerly replied and pulled me down on to his massive cock. It felt good as it stretched me wider to allow him to slide powerfully past my sphincter. I groaned loudly as he began pumping me with that steely rod.
"Oh, fuck! Yeah!"
Like a fucking ramrod he plunged in and out of my throbbing arsehole, bellowing as if he were a beast in the field as he tore into me. His powerful arms pulled me back on to him as he gave a final grunt and a heave, detonating a heavy wad of cum up my tube. His spasms eased off and he wrapped his arms around my chest and waist. I pushed back further on to him, guiding his left hand down to my waiting dick. He gave it some hard, fast pulls and jerked me off within a few second, my cum spurting across the floor in front of us. As I shot my load, the door slammed open and the Regiment corporal I'd noticed at dispersal burst in and stood in front of us. HOLY FUCK! I panicked as the last few drops of my jism landed on the highly polished toecaps of the rock ape's boots and I saw my career explode!
"What the fuck is going on here?" bellowed the corporal. My sergeant stood up and looked down at me, his gradually softening dick dripping the remains of his cum on to my chin.
"Just opening up one of the fly boys for you, Rick." Oh, shit! Not another one of his scores?
"Oh, it's you, Dad." The rock ape's boot prodded my chest. "You the latest Norman conquest?" I could not speak. Dad? Had he called the sergeant `Dad'? I was more terrified than I had been dodging Saddam's missiles – what the fuck had I got myself into?
"Down on your knees, Sir, and lick my boots clean – NOW!" thundered the rock ape.
I hastened to obey and knelt on the floor, licking up my own spunk from his boots. I was so engrossed in my task, not wanting to give him any excuse to make trouble, I didn't hear my sergeant leave the shed. I risked glancing upwards and was rewarded with the sight of a thumping male missile, hard as a rock encased in steel, dribbling quantities of sticky juice.
"Leave that, Sir," commanded the corporal, "and get your dick loving arse over there." He pointed to the stack of old crates where I had just been royally screwed by his father.
I clambered back on, my arse in the air, knowing what was about to happen. Without any preliminaries, the rock ape's cock slammed into me, sending me screaming and writhing into near oblivion. I thought his father was big and rough enough, but his son could give his Dad a few inches. He simply raped my already distended arsehole without mercy. I felt it jerk and spasm as jet after jet of hot, white man juice pumped into my gut. When he'd finished, the corporal withdrew roughly from my arse, wiping the residue of his sperm on my buttocks. He walked round to face me.
"Dad was right – you're a great fuck, fly boy. I'll get some of the guys in our squadron to look out for you in future."
He walked out of that shed and left me to clean myself up as best I could, adjust my clothing and walk painfully back to the Mess for a well-earned shower and some bacon and eggs. I left a message for the Wing Commander apologising for missing debrief but made some lame excuse about feeling unwell when I got back from the sortie.
The last thing I did that morning as I prepared to get some sleep was to make a silent vow never to let a man near me again. That held firm – but only until the next time I happened to meet father and son on dispersal, that is!
Laurie Page.
eH