Please keep this site alive by donating to Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org
Swabbie and Marine C-1
Western University had accepted me. I would room in a dorm. I had been assigned to Smythe Hall and to a room on a freshman floor. To most students that would be a "So what" moment. Me? I worried. I turned twenty-three four months ago and had three semesters of college credit at a community college before deciding that I needed university credits in my major. Okay, still "So what?"
The main detail was that at seventeen two weeks after I graduated from high school to get away from the rules laid down by my parents, I joined the U. S. Marines. Some getting away. The rules in the Marines were worse than my parent's rules. Even worse, I knew I was gay. I had done some stuff while in high school with three boys on my block, sometimes one on one, sometimes all three. Nothing more than hand jobs and sucking each other. One friend, Terry, liked to kiss and make out nude in the attic at his house. I loved those times with him.
I thought the Marines would provide me a smorgasbord of guy cock and steamy make out sessions. Right! I soon learned the phrase, "Penetration, no matter how slight, was sufficient to complete the offense." Plus getting caught meant jail where "queers" were beaten before getting thrown out of the Corps with a "Queer" discharge, not that that is what it was called. That was in the day before "Don't ask, don't tell."
I enlisted for four years. No war, just the Cold War and a hot hand while sitting on the toilet with my thighs covered by a newspaper. After a few months in a regular unit, I noticed guys, how they looked at me or others, particularly in the showers. Maybe they were a bit more friendly than most in the barracks. One of us would suggest a weekend pass to somewhere. We would get a motel and talk about stuff. One of us would bring a "Skin" mag. We'd look at naked pictures and bullshit about fucking a girl. Carefully, we would bring the topic around to jacking off, then to how about helping a brother out? When we felt safe with each other, blow jobs began. I was eighteen when this started. I knew nothing about anal and my buddies did not either. Alcohol, beer, was always involved. In the morning we blamed it on drinking and the magazines. I remember all those guys with whom I fooled around to this day. Only one guy was a repeat. The others were either ashamed or scared and never went with me again.
The guy with whom I repeated liked it so much that we tried to make it a monthly occurrence. More than a month and the others in the unit might suspect something. When we got a motel, clothes came off as soon as we chained the door. Then right to a major make out and sucking each other's cum like it was the last meal of the condemned. We were two horny teen Marines and I guess we loved each other as much as was possible. We were transferred and never saw each other again.
Fast forward to college. I started college because that was where the boys were. My three neighborhood buddies had moved after my four years in the service. I found one of them. He had a boy lover, but they let me live on their couch until I got my own place. He helped me find a job and an apartment and a boy to live with. This boy was eighteen.
My having served in the Marines and being twenty-one when discharged made him seem to be a naïve youngster just graduated from high school. We had hot sex. He introduced me to anal and that rocked my world. I became a bunny with him and topped and bottomed. One time I had to call off work because I wanted him so much. He looked like me, slim, almost six feet, with a seven inch cock when hard. He was not circumcised. That hood was fun to play with. I had seen uncut cocks in the Marine showers. I had never played with one.
We lived together for eighteen months. When I told him, I was transferring to Western, he was inconsolable for days. I began to worry about him. I could not take him with me. I looked around the community college for someone to replace me. After asking two boys to dinner at our apartment we found a third boy that was a perfect stand in for me. The boy was open about sex, in the apartment. In those days, sodomy laws existed, and gay sex could land you in prison. Anyway, the three of us became friends and would stay nude all weekend. Spit roasts, threesomes sucking and watching two of our happy threesome having anal were some of the things we did. When it was time to leave, I paid for two months rent. We ended with both giving me a goodbye spit roast. I sucked Billy while Drake unloaded in my chute. Then they switched. The day I made my last trip out the door, all three of us cried. I went back at the semester break. Everyone had moved and I never saw or heard from any of them again.
I arrived at Smythe Hall sixth floor. I was early. I wanted to see how dorm life developed. I was nervous. What if I was assigned an eighteen year old momma's boy freshman. Eighteen was fine, especially if he were inexperienced and I could deflower him, make him remember me and how I took his virginity. No matter what path his life took, he would remember me as his first. If he chose to marry, every time he made love to his wife, I would be there in a corner of his mind. The same would be true if he chose a male lover.
I unpacked and made my bed. My roomie's bed was waiting. I stood in my door watching as the kids began to arrive. I was careful as families were with them. I could not appear interested. There were hotties and I had to keep my eyes from roaming too obviously. I wondered how many of these kids would give their virginity oral or anal to me. I planned for when they partied like all freshman did. Then, when they were most agreeable, I would seduce them. Oh man. I would have to be careful and let them think it was their fault. I would tell them it was no big deal, that they just had too much to drink and did not know what they were doing. I would tell them that I forgave them and would keep what they did quiet. It would be our secret. That is until the next time. I even dreamed of making some of these boys regulars. I knew I could outdrink them because of my experience. I could pretend to be way more drunk so they would think they had taken advantage of me. I wanted them to feel remorse for being the perpetrator. They would be so easy. I got hot thinking of the future sex with their nude bodies thrashing and crying and begging.
"Excuse me." I came crashing to reality to see a twinky looking guy with a seabag over his shoulder planted in front of me. Sandy hair flipped over his left eye. Cute button nose with a thin mouth. It was his blue eyes that got me. Steel-blue with a depth of maturity that hinted that this boy was more than an eighteen year old freshman. He looked the part of a twink freshman, his eyes said otherwise. They looked used to being in command.
"Is this 610?" I nodded it was. He looked at a piece of paper. "Then this is my room. Are you my roommate?" I nodded and stepped aside following him in. He placed the seabag on the vacant bed along with a carry-all I had not noticed. Then he turned and held out his hand. "Stew Miller." I shook it, "Scott Gibbs." "Nice meeting you Scott. Since we are roomies, how about a hug. Before I could respond, he pulled me into a full body hug making sure our groins connected. When he pulled back, his smile revealed the cutest dimples in his cheeks. I knew he would be mine.
"It's hot, even with the window open. We need to buy a fan. Hope you do not get embarrassed because I am stripping down to my skivvies."
Who used the term skivvies except Marines and sailors. I studied his seabag. His name was stenciled on it. Turning my attention to him, I saw that he was already in only his skivvie shorts. I stared. His name was stenciled on the waist band just like we did in the Marines. I looked up not wanting to be caught scoping out his package which looked impressive. On his right bicep was a tattoo of an anchor with the letters U S N under it.
"You, you are a swabbie." I hadn't meant to use the derogatory term Marines used for sailors.
"Yep and you are a jarhead." He used the derogatory term sailors called Marines.
"How did you know?"
"I stopped over at the housing office to do research on my roomie. Guess us swabbies are more inquisitive than you jarheads."
I raised my left shirt sleave to show the Eagle Globe and Anchor tattoo on my left bicep I had gotten one sober night in Oceanside California. He smiled. "Oh, we are going to have fun. You will help a bro out when in need won't you?" I nodded. "Thought you would. You Marines had it easy. Finding a secret place on ship was not easy. You do it all?" I nodded not telling him that I did not do it all until I was released from active duty.
"Help me unpack. Then we can lock the doors and give each other head." I made quick work of getting him settled. I put the last sock in his drawer and turned around. He stood nude looking more like a twink than when dressed. With his skivvies off, his cock stood at attention. I stared. "How big is that thing?" Its size did not match his slim, slight body. I was so screwed.
"Just over nine inches. Get your skivvies off and get over here and worship it." I was on my knees in moments taking the tip in my mouth. This swabbie who looked like he ought to be still in high school but had to be twenty-one, maybe twenty-three was fucking my mouth and I loved it. "Get on the bed and let your head hang over the side. Be ready for my load as I have three days stored up."
He fucked my mouth until I felt his seed slam into my throat. I swallowed it like I was starving.
"Your turn jarhead. Fuck my throat. As I entered his mouth his head hung down opening his throat to my seven hard inches. I went into all out throat fucking action. The closer I got, the more I called his name, "Stew." He moaned like no guy I had throat fucked ever moaned. I blasted my cum straight down his throat. He gave the best BJ I had ever experienced.
After, he wanted to cuddle and make out. He was a super kisser. We lay front to front getting hard again. "You up for seconds, jarhead?" "Bring it swab jockey." When we swallowed each other a second time we sat on the edge of his bed, both of us laughing. "If those kiddies in our suite or next door heard us, they are scratching their skulls," I said then added, "Before this month is out more will be done to their skulls than scratching. Agreed?" I bumped his fist.
"Let's shower and go grab a beer." We showered without locking the suite door. If our suitemates saw us together in the shower, they would begin to think in the direction we planned for them.
At the Stadium, a campus bar, Stew's ID almost was rejected as fake. His military ID issued at expiration of active service combined with his driver license finally convinced two managers. My ID, same military ID as Stew's, other than having a Marine emblem on it, was not checked as closely. One manager asked if we were really Vets. Convinced we were and learning we were students, he told us about the Vet's club. This club met in the basement of their bar. They had to meet off campus because they had been banned from campus for drunken parties that required a two to one ratio of girls to boys. "That sucked," I thought.
As we walked back to the dorm, Stew mused. "I wonder who will be easier to seduce, eighteen year old freshmen or twenty something Vets?"
AGAIN: Support for Nifty keeps us going http://donate.nifty.org