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This story, like the other I've submitted to Nifty, is true, though names have been changed and identifying details omitted. If you have any questions or wish to give me feedback, please feel free to send an email to garogora@aol.com.
They say time flies when you're having fun. The two months between my first barracks duty and my nineteenth birthday were certainly not always that, but they flew by nonetheless.
The Friday after, I was hanging out with Sergeant Jackson in our unit's smoke pit (I didn't smoke, but I found the breaks to be pretty welcome) when I got a call from my father. My grandmother had passed away and he and my stepmother were driving out to Indianapolis to be with family until the funeral. "Don't worry about flying out. It'll be too expensive. Just try to come home for Christmas."
I didn't really know how I felt in regards to that news. I had loved my grandfather, who had died years earlier after multiple heart attacks and strokes. My grandmother... well, I loved her too, in the way all children love their grandmothers. But for every memory of freshly-made fudge or loving smiles, I had a memory of my grandmother being cruel and abusive. I had no interest in lionizing her just because she was gone. I consoled my father on the loss of his mother and expressed my apologies that I couldn't be there for him during the funeral. I wrote off my lack of sadness as probably just one more reason I should probably go into therapy.
If Sergeant Jackson was surprised by my very compartmentalized reaction to the news as I took the phone call in front of him, he didn't show it. When I told him, he said, "That's rough. Sorry," and we went back to our prior conversation.
I would have forgotten the conversation entirely had my father not sent me photos of other family members at the funeral. My favorite uncle, Ray, was not in attendance. I hadn't known until after my grandmother died that Ray wasn't her son, but my grandfather's from his previous marriage. My grandmother had hated and abused Ray, openly showing favoritism to her own children. It reminded me more than a little of my relationship with my own stepmother. I didn't blame Ray for not going.
It occurred to me then that I didn't know what I was doing for Thanksgiving. I called my dad, asking him to pass along my love and greetings to the family members there, asking how he was doing, and trying to be as much a comfort as I could.
When he put me on with my stepmom, I had a realization: my grandmother had hated and mistreated her as well. She had, in fact, tried (and largely succeeded) at making the entire Foreman clan hate my stepmother. When she was small-talked out, I asked her, "How are you? It can't be easy being at her funeral when she was, y'know, so awful to you for so long."
My stepmother gasped a bit. I could hear the sounds of her walking fast, presumably away from my father. She was breathing heavily. I couldn't tell if it was exertion, rage, or something else, until I heard the sound of a closing door, silence, and a heaving sob. The dam broke.
I won't bore you with by attempting to recreate what she said in detail, but the gist of it was that, yes, it was incredibly difficult sitting there while everyone treated this woman like she was a saint when she was awful to so many of the people around her for no discernable reason. She was openly abusive to her stepchildren, her children-in-law, and sometimes even her own husband, kids, and grandkids. Anyone who didn't conform to her expectations met her wrath. As the finale, my stepmother told me something she had ever said before, after over a decade of emotional and physical abuse: "I'm so, so sorry for being just as bad as she was."
I couldn't tell her, "It's okay." I couldn't just forgive her at the drop of a hat. But I did manage to string a couple sentences together after my throat seemed to swell shut with emotion. "Thanks for saying that. And you weren't as bad as she was. She would never have apologized."
My stepmother continued sobbing, but managed to say that she loved me and would call me back later.
I answered, "Okay, love you too. Bye." I was surprised to realize that I meant it.
When she called back later, I found out that they would be staying in Indiana for Thanksgiving, so I made plans to stay with the Cortes family. Sanford would be joining us too, but sadly Sergeant Jackson wouldn't be joining us, as he was doing Thanksgiving with a close friend and his family.
November wrapped up pretty quickly, and December was no slower. I had a few hookups each week, but none of them were especially satisfying, possibly because I was thinking about Adam's back against my chest. The first half of December was mostly work, but the second half was going to be mostly time off. As Christmas and New Year's fell on Saturdays, we were given 96-hour liberty for each holiday. That meant I had the 24th through the 27th off for Christmas, followed by three days of work, then the 31st through the 3rd of January off for New Year's. I decided to game the system by taking the 28th, 29th, and 30th off as leave, and bought a round-trip ticket to Vegas and back.
I went a couple of weeks without hearing from my parents, so I decided to call them a couple days before my flight to Vegas. They still hadn't left Indianapolis yet. They assured me they'd be back before New Year's at the latest, so I decided not to cancel the flight.
I did, however, realize that I was going to have to get a ride from the airport to my parents' home. I texted a variety of people who might be able to pick me up, but was disappointed with the response. Terry was in New England for the holidays. Uncle Ray was in northern California with his actual mother. I even went out on a limb and texted Derek, the college student I had hooked up with a few times, and who had found me on MySpace and reached out after learning I had joined the Marine Corps. He was staying with his boyfriend for Christmas, so he wasn't available either.
In the end, with less than a day remaining before my flight, I posted a personal ad on Craigslist. "Marine visiting from out of town, would love to spend some time with another military guy. Flying in, no vehicle."
By the time I got off work on the 23rd, I had over 200 replies. I hadn't even included pictures.
I read the responses but wrote off any that started with, "Not military, but..." or "I don't have a car, but..." I knew it was kind of dickish, but I didn't want to take a three-hour CAT bus ride home after a flight that only lasted one hour. In the end, there were a handful of Air Force guys among the emails. I compared them before choosing which ones to reply to. In the end, I replied to three: an older Air Force officer and two younger enlisted airmen.
One of the enlistees responded right away. He was a handsome black guy who had included a lot of pics. I got the impression he was rejected often due to his race. He was smooth-bodied, muscular, and had a great smile. I asked what he was into, and hit my first roadblock: he was also a top. We ended up exchanging more pictures anyway, and I really wanted to suck his cock, but in the end, I made plans with the second one to get back to me, the officer, because he was a bottom, able to pick me up, and willing to drive me to my parents' place after.
I told him when to be at the airport. Adam drove me to the San Diego airport to make the flight. I hadn't told him my family weren't in Vegas yet, so he was under the impression that my dad was picking me up. I didn't correct him on that assumption.
When we arrived in Vegas, the AF officer was waiting for me in the pickup area. His hair was a little grayer than the pictures he had sent me, but it actually made him look hotter. He greeted me as "son" and tossed my bag in the backseat of his truck. I hopped in the passenger seat and we chatted a bit about my time in the Marine Corps on the way to his place. It was clear that he was nervous and the conversation was helping him get over it. He only got more nervous when I put my hand on his thigh while he drove, and when I noticed his dick beginning to bulge more prominently as he got hard, I brought my fingers toward it slowly. He grabbed my hand to stop me. "Too distracting," he said with a smile.
When we arrived, I left my backpack in his truck and followed him up the driveway to his house. He was extremely nervous when the door shut behind us. I tried to calm his nerves by kissing him. It seemed to work well enough to help me get his shirt off. He wasn't as built as I was, but I chalked it up to the responsibilities of an officer keeping him from hitting the gym five times a week. He got my shirt off easily enough, too, now that he wasn't thinking. He fumbled with my belt while I deftly unbuckled his and brought his jeans to the floor. He was bulging through his boxer briefs.
I got down on my knees and nuzzled my face against the bulge. The officer let out a sharp breath. I decided to just go for it, pulling his underwear down so his cock sprang free and swallowing the whole length while maintaining eye contact. He whispered, "Fuck, is that what they teach Marines these days?"
I came off, chuckling, and answered, "No, sir. I learned that here at home," before throating him again. I undid my own belt, too, making it that much easier when he had to get my pants off.
After a few minutes, he pulled me up. "Getting too close. Let's take this to the bedroom."
He led the way. I left my shirt on his living room floor. I noticed other bedrooms had their doors closed, and could see family photos on the walls, though it was hard to make out details with the lighting so sparse. I didn't stay to get a close look.
There was a photo on the dresser opposite the bed that the officer laid face-down as he entered the room. I got the impression he didn't want the photo of his family watching us. He laid a towel on the bed, then shut off the lights and undid my jeans easily without the belt in the way. He pulled my boxers down, too, and squeezed my hard dick as soon as I stepped out of the clothes pooling on the floor.
He used my dick to lead me onto the bed, pulling me down on top of him. He reached into the drawer of his bedside table and found a condom and lube. I applied the condom, glad I had gotten some practice at wearing one since Dale. He lubed up his ass before groping my cock again, slathering lube over it. "Just fuck me. I wish we could take our time, but..."
I knew without him saying it. It was the night before Christmas eve and he was married with kids. They would be home soon. I didn't waste any time, and immediately sunk a finger into his ass. He gasped. I made sure he wasn't in pain, then used a second finger. I found his prostate and applied pressure to it as he gasped and rocked. I could see his dick bouncing in the dark.
I pulled out the fingers, moved closer, and pressed my cockhead against his hole. It went in easily. Rather than a short, sharp breath, this time he sighed with contented relief as I slowly sunk my whole length into him.
Like he had said, though, we didn't really have time for me to give him a slow, liesurely, passionate night of lovemaking.
So I fucked his brains out.
After slowly and gently entering him, I was merciless. He pulled me closer with his legs, grunting, "Yes! Fuck! Me!" as I found a good rhythm and began pounding. He wasn't new to bottoming. I wondered how many promising young airmen had been in my exact position, loading the captain up with cum for a promotion, or preferential consideration, or because he was a DILF. He reminded me of Gary, whose allegedly-virginal ass had been so easy to penetrate that I had half wondered if his dad and brother hadn't taken turns on him to get him ready for me. I was certainly not the first man to take this ass this week, and probably not the first one to fuck it today.
I pulled his hairy leg up onto my shoulder so I could position myself to hit his prostate more easily. He got pretty vocal when my dick grazed it, so I put a hand over his mouth and kissed the muscled, hairy calf next to my face. After a few minutes of relentless fucking, I could feel my orgasm starting to sneak up on me. Without removing my hand, I asked him, "Want me to fill this condom up in your ass, sir?"
His muffled reply was a reasonably distinct "No," followed by something else unintelligible.
"On your face?" I guessed. He shook his head.
"Your chest." He nodded.
I ran my fingers through his chest hair, releasing his mouth. He immediately gave a loud moan, though he clamped a hand over his own mouth to keep it down. While his abdomen was hairless, his pecs were impressively hairy. I loved the way it looked on him, though I wondered how he'd look with a happy trail. I tweaked his nipples, eliciting another deep sigh of pleasure. I played with them as I kept fucking him, alternating between the nipples. He seemed to like it a lot.
As I felt myself near the point of no return, I gave a few more thrusts, getting slower and slower as I felt it coming. I clenched and held myself off from cumming as long as I could, then fully pulled out. Placing my hand at the base of my dick, I pushed the condom off onto the towel, straddled his cock, and aimed. My first shot didn't go far, landing just below his pecs. He opened his mouth in time to get half of the second shot just under his lower lips and down his chin. The remainder landed in the target zone. I relaxed a bit, feeling his leaking dick pressing into the crack of my ass.
I considered holding it steady and lowering myself onto it, in the moment. But then he shifted, thinking we were done, and his cock started to deflate. I moved off of him and positioned myself between his legs to resume sucking.
"Oh, you don't have to do that," he said sheepishly. "I never cum after getting fucked."
His dick stopped deflating though, and that was all the encouragement I needed. It took me three minutes. He even turned his lamp on so he could watch more easily as he realized that he was, in fact, about to cum after getting fucked.
He warned me that he was about to cum so I could pull off in time. I smiled internally at his thoughtfulness and moaned my approval after he warned me. I kept sucking. Within seconds, I was swallowing his sweet, musky cum.
We pulled our clothes on and made our way back out to the living room to find our shirts. When we were ready to go, he said, "Shall we?"
I pointed back to the bedroom. "Is your wife gonna ask why you put the picture in the bedroom face-down if she gets home first?"
He went pale as a sheet and returned to the bedroom to put the photo back in its proper position. "Thanks," he muttered as he led me out.
When we were safely in the truck, I asked him, "Can I ask a personal question?"
He shrugged in a noncommittal way that suggested he'd decide whether the question was too personal after I asked it.
"Where are they tonight?"
He smiled. "Last-second Christmas shopping. I got out of it by telling the truth, actually."
I was surprised by that. "Oh. I guess your wife is into it, then?"
He laughed. "No, I mean, I told her that I had to pick a visiting Marine up from the airport."
I asked about his experience with men and he told me about a few of the young airmen he had lining up to use his hole. He asked, in turn, about mine. I told him, "I started... younger than you probably want to hear about."
"Oh?"
"I was twelve." I briefly recapped my first experience at the park bathroom outside my middle school. He was astounded, looking sideways at me periodically.
"Fuck," he said. "How do you feel about it?"
I shrugged. "I'm not traumatized. I knew people put graffiti on the wall there saying they were looking for sex, but I kept going anyway. And when I actually found men instead of just graffiti, I kept coming back for more."
"I bet you were a fucking sight to behold," he whispered.
I reached over and squeezed his dick. He was hard again. "Well, imagine me, but about a foot shorter. Narrower shoulders and hips. Way less stubble." I brushed my chin and cheek with a hand, producing an audible rasp. "And able to throat a dick about three inches longer than yours and thicker, too."
He looked off into the middle distance. I wasn't sure if he was trying to picture me or his own son sucking a huge dick in the bathroom.
Eventually, we made it to my parents' home. "I don't think I'll be free again while you're here," he said. "Give me a holler next time you're visiting, though." We said our goodbyes and I made my way up to the front door, letting myself in with the key I'd been given the last time I visited home. (I'd had a key when I still lived here, but I had left it behind when I left for boot camp.)
I called a bunch of friends and told them I was in town for Christmas, home alone, and asked if they wanted to come over. Notably, I left out Casey, the friend who had betrayed my confidence to tell my stepmother I had fucked Gary. The three friends that did come over, Gary and two of my high school buddies, brought pizza and drinks (non-alcoholic, since they knew I wouldn't drink anyway). I turned on the heater so the frigid, lifeless home would be a little warmer, and set up the Wii so we could play Smash Bros or something.
It was fun hanging out with friends from my civilian days, but strange. There was a divide between us that seemed awkward to even acknowledge. To be fair to them, I had changed a lot since I had seen them last. Gary had graduated high school the year after I did, and turned 18 over the summer that followed, but none of them had experienced any real life changes. Stephen was going to UNLV, Bill and Gary were working, but they had all stayed home and continued living in their comfort zone. I enjoyed myself anyway.
When Bill and Stephen left, Gary stayed behind. After I had a good shower, he and I ended up fucking on my parents' bed. I was astonished to find that the Air Force captain had had the tighter hole, though I didn't tell Gary about it.
My parents didn't make it home in time for Christmas. I visited close family friends and brought toys for their kids. A couple days after Christmas, I reached out to the other Air Force bottom I had gotten hold of, whose name was Connor. He was anxious for a good fuck and drove over immediately after I gave him the address. He was 21, handsome, smooth-bodied, slim, and less muscled than I was.
After I started loosening him up with a finger, he announced, apropos of nothing, "I'm a virgin!"
I moved so that I could see his face and kissed him. "Don't worry," I said back. "I don't want to hurt you."
I took my sweet time lubing him up. After I could fully penetrate him with a finger, he said, "Okay, I'm ready."
I chuckled and compared my index finger to my hard, leaking dick. "You sure?" He blanched.
I spent another twenty minutes or so working him with two fingers. He kept needing to take breaks because, as he said, "I feel like I'm about to shit all over myself." My fingers still came away clean, so he must have been pretty thorough when preparing, or ate a lot of fiber, or both.
Eventually, he was ready for something bigger than two fingers. I stroked lube over the condom I was wearing and confirmed that he wanted to try it again. "Yes, please, I'm so ready."
I lined up the head and told him, "If you want to stop, just tell me 'stop', okay? Safe word: stop. But if you want me to stop moving, say 'pause'." He didn't reply, so I gently slapped his ass and commanded, "Respond."
He instinctively grunted out, "Yes, sir," and looked back at me, a little bashful. I bent forward and kissed him again.
"Then you're ready." I straightened up, grabbed his slim hips, and gently pushed mine forwards. I started slowly sinking into him, though I could feel him clenching. I stopped applying forward pressure. "Don't tense up. Take a deep breath." He did. "Now push like you're trying to shit my dick out."
He tensed up again. I had him repeat the breathing exercise. On the third try, he relaxed enough for me to get another inch in. I kept up the slow, deep breaths, both to guide him and to keep myself from getting overwhelmed by his ass. In addition to being, hands down, the tightest ass I had ever fucked, he was a little hairy down there, too, and the added texture wasn't doing favors for my sexual longevity.
It took another five minutes before I was able to bottom out in him and start slowly fucking. It would have been easier for me to keep from cumming if I was fucking him hard and fast, but I wasn't sure he would appreciate a long, drawn-out fuck. After I was able to pull most of the way out and get all the way back in consistently, he said, "Pause." I stopped moving. "I think I want to change positions," he told me."
I had him lie on his back and placed my stepmom's favorite pillow under the small of his back for support. Within a few minutes, I was back into my slow, steady tempo.
While he had stayed soft the entire time I was fucking him doggy style, he actually got hard as I was fucking him missionary. I reached down to hold his cock while I fucked him. I fucked a little harder to force his body to make fucking motions into my hand. It was at this point that he started looking like he was actually enjoying it rather than simply weathering the discomfort.
I could myself getting closer. I was about to inform him and ask whether he had a preference to where I shot my load when his eyes went wide and he squeaked, "Fuck!" before shooting a huge, thick load all over his smooth chest and abs. I had just bottomed out in his ass as he hit his orgasm, and the contractions of his body pushed me over my limit, too.
I grunted, "I'm cumming," and kept up my pace. He gave a punctuated gasp every time I hit his prostate, and I could feel the condom swelling with my load. Still inside him, I leaned down and sucked a gob of cum off of one of his nipples. He gasped at that, too, which made me smile and continue cleaning his chest off with my tongue.
We took a joint shower in my parents' bathroom, since it had a standing shower large enough for two. When we got dressed, he thanked me awkwardly and positively fled.
My parents didn't make it home for New Year's, either.
I spent New Year's Eve doing laundry, ensuring that none of the towels, blankets, or pillow cases from my parents' bed had any sign of lube or cum on them. Gary joined me for the ball drop, and we ended up sucking each other's cocks in my parent's backyard while watching the distant fireworks over the Vegas Strip. I'd call it romantic if my feelings for Gary had been anything more than friendship and the appreciation of a convenient fuck.
Sanford called me on New Year's Day to bid me a happy new year and a happy birthday, since I'd be 19 by the time I arrived back in San Diego. He also asked if he could join me the next time I came out to Vegas, since he had a cousin in the Air Force who was training at Nellis AFB. I agreed that it sounded like a good idea. When Gary left to spend some time with his dad and brother, I reached out to the Air Force top who had messaged me to see if he was free that day.
He didn't respond, sadly. Too horny to just jerk off and call it a day, I checked to see if there were any local personal ads that might catch my interest. I emailed a few and played video games to wait. In the end, none of the guys were available that day, so I went to spend the rest of the holiday with the family friends I had visited on Christmas.
Those family friends offered to drop me off at the airport the morning of my return to San Diego, so I gladly accepted. Adam was waiting for me at the passenger pickup area.
We chatted about our holidays. He had spent Christmas with the Corteses, as had Sanford, but he spent New Years with friends at a bar. He asked, "What'd you do for New Years?"
With a smug smile, I answered, "I watched the fireworks and got my dick sucked."
He laughed at that. "Thanks, now I'm jealous." I resisted the urge to ask if he was jealous of me for getting my dick sucked, or of whoever had gotten to suck it.
Conscious of the lengthening silence, I finally said, "Well, next time, you're invited."
He chuckled again and said, "Oh, you got someone to suck my dick too?"
I smiled and patted his arm while he drove. "Nah, I was just wondering what it'd feel like to have two pairs of lips giving me the once-over."
I said it like a joke. He took it as one and laughed it off.