Loading...Funny it happened when we tried “The Invisible Man.” I’ve always wondered about that.
Everybody’s tried auto-blow, bending into a pretzel, trying to suck your own cock. Everybody’s tried it, especially when younger.
A flexible guy like my Chuck-o can lie back, roll his hips up, bring his feet back over his head, knees to his chest, and get his own dick down between his lips. Gives himself a blowjob.
I lost that much flexibility years ago. Now I say it’s not “dignified.” One day I read about a version of auto-blow using two people, though, and Chuck-o wanted to try it. While one pretzeled himself and sucked his own hose, his enterprising and horny friend (or not, depending on how rough you like it) crouched over his bared and ready asshole and sank his cock down into it.
They called it “The Invisible Man” because the cocksucker’s own body obscured his face. We tried it. Yep, anybody who took a picture would find Chuck-o’s face hidden. He grunted in triumph as he got his hard dick down into his mouth, and in a form of applause, I greased up my cock and sank it into his backside. He let out a long, low moan, Chuck-o’s way of telling me I’d talked him out of going straight.
I gave only a C- to The Invisible Man Technique, though. Nobody could bring himself to a blowjob orgasm while knotted up like a jockstrap just out of the Spin cycle. Worse, as the Top, I didn’t dare thrust down onto him with my full weight for fear of breaking his spine.
Didn’t matter, though. We were interrupted by the doorbell. Shit! I retracted, stood up, and threw on a bathrobe. At the door a delivery-guy stood tall and erect. I shook my head to clear the horny cobwebs and signed for the special delivery letter.
To: Dr. Martin Nowensky. Incredible. Two pages of official blah-blah ending in They wanted me to participate in a “Project Invisible Man.”
Invisible What?
A military miracle, they called it. “Historic breakthrough.” Army scientists–or eggheads the Army hired–had invented the perfect armor. Nothing could get through it. Made the soldier invincible. They went on and on about it, but all I understood was “Atomic-powered,” “zaps into non-existence,” and that it dissolved anything that touched it, like a bullet, shrapnel, or even a tank.
If I understood correctly, a GI wearing the new armor could stand in the path of an oncoming Army truck, and slash!–a soldier-shaped hole would appear in it as it passed over him–cutting the truck in two. Incredible.
Seemed the Department of Defense wanted me to develop a training program for the armor–to teach soldiers how to use the new super-stuff. In the interview: “Dr. Nowensky, as an authority on communications and industrial training, we want you to work with the developers of the armor, learn to use it, work with the volunteer soldiers in the experiment. One day all soldiers in the US military will have this armor, and we have to be prepared with training for that great day.”
So I told the wife that I had a “secret mission” and took a sabbatical from the university. They told me the whole thing was super-hyper-mega Top Secret, so I can’t say where I lived, etc.
Bulletproof Suit
First day on the job, I got another “incredible.” Finally past several gates of security guards and the showing of passes, badges, and paperwork, I met Colonel Chonder, who accompanied me out to the “training area.”
Big guy. Tall Black stud about 6`2″ Buffalo big–close to 300 pounds, a monster. Could’ve been an NFL linebacker. His uniform couldn’t disguise shoulders like mountains, a chest like a Quonset hut–had to be a good 58 inches. Huge pecs, like iron pillows.
As a professor of communications, I don’t have a medical doctor’s familiarity with the human body, but from extensive personal explorations, my professional opinion was that Chonder had a six-pack belly. And oh, yes, Black cock. I’d heard of them. Awesome, so the legends went. Couldn’t hold back a daydream about him in the nude.
It turned out that another major element of the super armor was invisibility. The Impregnable Personal Combat Armor, or IPCA, provided protection at the molecular level. With a very small power source, the armor could produce a high-frequency screen around the individual, a resonance that disintegrated anything that touched it. The protectional force-field was only about an inch thick over the soldier’s body, but a bullet fired at it went Psst! and disappeared.
One Minor Detail
But something else, “The Problem”: the armor also vaporized anything above the level of living skin–underwear, uniform, and hair. Any “invincible soldier” wearing the ICPA stood there stark naked, electronically stripped of clothing and boots. Also hair, eyelashes, mustache, body hair, and pubes.
God, it’s “Band of Brothers” meets The Chippendale Dancers. They carried M-16 rifles. No clothes.
But wow. They could walk through fusillades of machine gun bullets, and nothing touched them. Even the momentum of the projectiles dissipated–the bullets didn’t knock them down or affect them at all.
But I couldn’t get over the eroticism of the whole thing, and it got worse: Where did a soldier put the armor’s power source if a backpack vaporized when he put it on? The battery-pack was the single point where the force-field didn’t “form”–it spread out from there. They put the powerpack in a small, smooth, slender cylinder worn in the man’s crotch–between his legs, behind his balls.
And since he was au naturel, what held it in place when he walked? A metal ring over his cock and a small butt-plug, both inside the force-field, suspended the unit just behind his scrotum like a black cigar in his crotch. Incredible.
No wonder they wanted a high-powered training program. The wonder-armor fulfilled centuries-old dreams of warriors–but it also defied centuries of puritanical propriety. CNN shots of battlefields would have to be shown on XXX channels. Nude soldiers weren’t unknown to history, though. Spartan warriors, like the 300 who held off the Persian invaders, weren’t bothered by swinging dicks as they marched along–they went into battle wearing nothing but helmet, shield, and spear.
But still, damn, I’d never seen so many bare dongs, not even back in college shower rooms. I couldn’t ignore 190 physically fit, well endowed men–I couldn’t think of anything else.
A Major Minor Detail
The Real Problem was that in my high school days, Coach Fogarty taught me how fucking him could be a lot more efficient than the flowers-candy-movie-petting buildup to maybe getting some sex from a girl. Coach Fogarty came right up to me one day when I was the last in the showers. Knelt on the wet floor to lick and suck my cock, then pulled down his pants and dropped onto hands and knees. Told me to fuck him. Poor man had some self-control issues.
But talk about a special training session! He taught me what a whiz-bang little gizmo I had between my legs. I had no idea my li’l key fit so many locks. Yep, although candy might be dandy, the licker was quicker on his knees. And more often. Nearly every day of my senior year I met Coach Fogarty to play Bendover. My parents were proud: I got straight A’s in gym.
Years later I got married and had a kid, but I kept up my “other” skills. I had Chuck-o, the auto mechanic who serviced me three or four times a week. As a result, I had at least twice the sex as any of the husbands who’d talk about their love lives.
Blanche and I had a pleasant sex life–she wanted it once or twice a week. I did Chuck-o the other days, and between him and the occasional student who “would do anything for a passing grade,” my prostate was as well-tuned as a Ferrari–Testa Rossa, by the way, means “red head,” which Chuck-o always groaned as he licked mine.
Blanche didn’t know anything about it, and (with an occasional change of male partners) life had gone on peacefully for 22 years. As I watched the bare soldiers in various training exercises, I broke out in a sweat. This isn’t good. I could get Post-Combat Jackoff Syndrome.
I decided the secret project was just a little too far over the edge–no way could I control myself in that carnal carnival, and if I were somehow “outed,” my world would come crashing down around me. But when I started making “no-no” sounds, the Army offered a hell of a lot of money.
How does the saying go, “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘Greed'”? I decided to suck it up (for lack of a better expression) and get with the program. I gritted my teeth and steeled up my resolve. I can associate with naked men. They don’t have anything I don’t have, nothing I haven’t seen before.
One More Detail–No Longer A Minor
One tiny detail even worse: my son was a volunteer in the test company–the very reason my name came to the top of the list. Still worse: for years, ever since he’d grown into a man (and especially after he’d joined the Army Reserve), I’d been biting my lip about Todd.
I had to admit it; he was my favorite jackoff fantasy. But his mother had raised him ramrod-straight, and I didn’t tamper with that–it’s hard enough to live in the closet in modern culture. If he didn’t prefer males naturally, I wasn’t going to teach him to.
But fuck! Seeing him walking around nude all day? I’d been dreaming of sticking my cock between his handsome buns since the time he bought his first jockstrap for high school gym classes and tried it on at home. Bumping elbows (and whatever) with a naked Todd every day would be inhumane! Torture! Sexual starvation. Orgasmic solitary. Cum-boarding.
I sat in a Jeep with Colonel Chonder, looking down the hill at the parade ground where the stripped company was in formation. I’d been hoping Colonel Chonder would be wearing the transparent armor, but I let out a sigh.
But the incredible stuff just kept on coming–“Dr. Nowensky, we want you to join in with the volunteers, wear the ICPA, learn how it works and what it’s like to use it–”
–“You mean, I have to be–naked–too?”
“Yes, we want you to be like the rest of them.”
“What? You mean–naked–completely nude–all day long??”
“And night. This project is Top Secret at the highest level. For as long as you’re here, you must stay with the troops. We’ll give you a private room in the barracks, but you must stay here.”
Shit. This is getting out of control. “I’m not sure–”
–“You signed a contract. You cannot back out.” He smiled, but it was a “firm smile,” if there is such a thing. “It’ll be all right. You’ll get used to it. They have.”
“But they’re not an old, 45-year-old man who’s out of shape and has a gray beard.”
“You won’t have the beard long, or any hair at all, for that matter, and after seeing bare bodies all day long, the fascination wears off.”
Hell and damnation!
At least they gave me a private room–I would have to go AWOL if I didn’t have somewhere to let off some sticky, white steam. But a platoon of naked studs in the next room! Masturbation that night would be rubbing my naked dick against the wall.
Birthday Suits, One-Size-Fits-All
That day they fitted me with an ICPA of my own. “You should remove your clothing, Dr. Nowensky. Otherwise it will be vaporized.”
Nuts. I stripped down.
The GI who “outfitted” me had a completely straight face (and a nice prick). Probably fitted newbies hundreds of times before. “Place your penis through this ring, sir, sling the power source under your balls, make it comfortable between your legs.” He took a deep breath. “And insert the suspension peg”–(anywhere else, it was a ‘butt-plug’)–“into your rectum.”
Oh my god. I didn’t have an erection at the time (hell, who on earth could in such a situation?), but the cock-ring fit down at the very base, and the power source itself weighed only a couple of ounces. The butt-plug was harder. The clerk slicked it up with Vaseline and handed it to me.
That was the hard part. I smiled. “Well, if I have to, I guess I have to.” I reached back, spread my legs, and stuck it in my backside. It was thin, and although it hurt a little, it went in easily enough. My rectum snapped shut over it, leaving only a black plastic handle sticking out. Over that went a loop from the power source.
They gave me a pair of experimental sandals woven out of living fibers that would not be zapped, then “Reach down and switch it on, sir.”
I reached under my testicles, felt the switch, clicked it, and Hmmmmmmmm. Instantly all the hair on my body disappeared. In a puff of smoke.
The colonel kept his clothes on, the bastard, and we walked out to the formation. “Men, this is Dr. Nowensky. He will be working with you in the development of the ICPA, in creating a training program for it. So as soon as we get this miracle armor fully functional, we can get it out to all members of the US armed forces!” They let out a cheer.
“Dr. Nowensky is a civilian employee of the Department of Defense; you will give him due respect. Answer his questions, help him to develop the training for this new armor. Thank you, gentlemen.” With that, he stepped down from the podium and walked away.
He left me standing there stark naked, but so was everybody else. The commanding officer dismissed the troops, and some of them came up to me to get acquainted. I forced myself to smile, wondering where in hell I should keep my eyes–I mean, did I look only at the guy’s face? “Normal” people rarely looked each other in the face as they spoke–they looked here, there, everywhere.
But did “everywhere” mean I could look down at the guy’s tool (like I was dying to)? Hey, the Great Forbidden was suddenly out there for public view? Come on!
I was so nervous and jittery, my dick sucked back into my gut until I had only the bare minimum for admission to the men’s room, but some of the guys passing by, shaking my hand, had full-on, rock-hard cocks! I must’ve been gaping. One of them finally said, “Don’t worry about it, Doc. Everybody gets a hardon sooner or later. It’s natural. Don’t take it personal; it’s just part of being a man.”
I Get A Sonburn
When the formation broke up and the group dispersed, I moved out of the sun into the shade of a tree, my brain overwhelmed. I was incredulous again when a soldier walked up, aiming a colossal Army flesh-pistol at me from between his legs. The guy had a rock-hard erection bobbing back and forth as he walked. And when I could finally pull my eyes up to look at his face–
–Todd!
My own boy! And, son of a bitch, my own schlong stiffened to return his salute. My face burned hot: I was blushing apple-red.
Todd smiled. “The first couple of days are the worst. You walk around with a hardon all the time. Then you get used to it.”
“Wish I had a loincloth or something.”
He laughed. “It would disappear with a hiss of sparks.”
I looked around. “I hadn’t thought of this, but how can you pee? Does it come out as steam?”
“Oh, the armor vaporizes only something that strikes the outside of it, not something that comes from inside.” He smiled again. “You’re not plugged up anywhere.”
I could manage only a feeble return smile. “Never dreamed the first job I’d have alongside my son would be in a nudist colony.” Todd was a young 2nd Lieutenant, but since the ICPA would vaporize any clothing or insignia, the men had their rank and what would have been a name tag printed on their chests in black felt-tip pen. Over his left nipple, Nowensky. Over his right, 2LT.
As the conversation continued, I let myself notice Todd. I’d always been proud of him. He stood 6`1″, and at 185 pounds, a handsome young man, if I did say so myself. And The Problem was that I wanted him so bad. I hadn’t seen him naked in a long time–and never for so long. Couldn’t keep my eyes off him. Damn, look at those broad shoulders! He’s a strong, red-blooded guy. One of the big ones around here.
I looked away, but then, you can’t look away from the person you’re talking to. I had to look back. And down.
And speaking of “naked for a long time”–he certainly had something “naked long,” a cock to make any father proud. My boy’s really hung. If I had that, I’d be eager to get my clothes off. He should’ve joined the Air Force with such an ICBM.
Todd had a sexy foreskin covering his cockhead, just the very tip of the glans showing (I was glad I didn’t let them circumcise him in the hospital) but something I’d never noticed before–Hell, the last time I saw it was when he was little!–Todd had a Coke bottle-shaped cock. Beyond the bulging tip, his shaft spread out again after an inch or two, becoming as broad as the mushroom head, then back down again to the base.
The lucky woman gets her pussy lips spread by Todd will get a double-stretch and a yipe with each In and each Out.I sighed. I was as embarrassed as hell–my dick was a billboard advertising my state of mind, but at least Todd was hard, too.
I must have been blushing. He looked at me and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. Getting an erection is normal for a man. Everybody gets ’em. All the time.” He looked down and chuckled. “I’ve got one, too–”
–To say the least! Damn, look at that thing!–
–“Looks like I’m just a chip off the old block.” Pregnant pause. Finally: “Well, I have to go check on my platoon. I guess I’ll see you around, Dad.”
“Yeah, I guess you’ll see everything there is to see around me.” We laughed.
Toys In Babeland
I stood alone under the tree for a while, just watching. In that group of 190, I saw every type of physique, ages from 18 to around 40 or so, big guys, little guys, muscular guys, slender guys, a real kaleidoscope of naked male flesh. And my hardon had not gone down when Todd walked away. At first I was terribly embarrassed, but then, hell, only a robot wouldn’t be stimulated by all that nudity. Testosterone was so thick in the air, it was foggy.
Most of the men marched off to the rifle ranges, maneuvers, war games, anything to test the ICPAs in action. I went to the company HQ office and read reference material on the ICPA system. But there I saw more stiffies and balls. Naked clerks at typewriters, naked officers giving orders to naked enlisted men. Naked loiterers around the water cooler, busy sergeants bustling around getting errands done.
The whole thing was a waking nightmare (or maybe wet dream) to me, but the soldiers seemed to have adjusted to Life in the Buff. Still, the more I learned about the ICPA marvel, the more I had an uneasy feeling–I won’t be able to keep my mind from between their legs.
Back outside again, I spotted Todd working out with his platoon. Damn, I was proud of my boy. And hot for him. Oh, I’d love to show that boy how to take it up the ass!
It hit me that I’d better ease up on the Admiring. I kept reminding myself that, living wet-dream aside, I was in a scientific experiment, and as a professor of communications, the observations I made were purely clinical.
Nature Checks In
Stuck permanently on the base, I wouldn’t be visiting Chuck-o’s apartment that night or even my own home with candy, flowers, and a CD of Barry Manilow to seduce Blanche. Beating the meat was on the menu that night. Nonetheless, I had a solemn talk with myself: This is a scientific experiment! You are at the forefront of military development! The men here are dedicated and working hard at this project; I am amiss in thinking of them with sensual intentions. This is not a gay male experiment. That all of us are naked is a coincidence.
In other words, I promised myself to be a Good Boy–even though Freud himself said There is no such thing as coincidence.
That evening I ate in the mess hall, seated at the officers’ table. The sexual energy was not quite as strong–all genitalia were hidden under the tables. After the evening meal, all personnel switched off the ICPAs, unhooked them from their crotches, and turned them in to the technicians. “Keep your cock-ring and suspension peg for tomorrow,sir.”
Nobody put on clothes again, though. Too much trouble. Everybody was “skinny-dipping,” anyway. What difference did it make? The comely company walked back to the various barracks, and when I entered my room, the frustration set in. Fuck, I need a drink. Just then a messenger knocked on my door. Seems I had an appointment at Colonel Chonder’s office.”
Interviewed by The Man
It was the end of the day, the staff had gone. I waited in the outer room with another man–also naked–who sat nervously in one of the chairs. After a few moments, he looked up at me, and I smiled. He didn’t. “I used to be a man.” His voice was very soft.
I blinked. Marked on his chest was CPT–captain. A US Army captain can say that?? I had to say something. “You’re not a woman. I can see that.” I was trying to make light of it, but my voice was a squeak.
“I’m a bitch. Half a man. I’m a man when I’m on duty. I can give out orders.” He paused, looking down at his hard cock. “But when I’m around him, I’m his bitch. All I can think about is bringing him pleasure.”
Unbe-fucking-lievable! “Captain! You’re a US Army officer! Get control of your–”
–“You ever taste jism, Doc?”
What? What the fuck kind of question is that?? “Uh–”
“Wait till you taste his. I crave the taste. Love it. I’ll swallow every drop he’ll give me.”
“Captain, do you realize what you’re saying?”
He looked up at me. “You’ll know. Your time will come. You’ll know.”
I got goose-pimples. Hey, I like getting my pole wet and warm like the next guy, but hold on just a minute. It’s more blessed to give than to receive. I’m not bending over for Chonder! I want to get out of here!
“I’m guessing you’re a virgin.”
A virgin? “Uh–”
He went on: “Maybe you’ll like it as much as I do; everybody else does–but it’s going to happen. You have to prepare for it.”
Chills up my spine again. What the fuck is he talking about?
“Dr. Nowensky, it’s going to hurt. You’ll be screaming.” He lowered his voice still further, trying to be comforting. “But it will end. And the pleasure will come in. It’ll start out in pain but end up in ecstasy. You just have to be patient.”
Then the door opened, and a man walked out. Naked. Hard cock. He walked away, the captain got up, went through the door, and it closed behind him.
I sat there, my mind going 100mph. No! He’s not going to fuck me! I won’t allow it! Then I thought about my situation. I would love to see a big Black’s cock, though.
Only a few minutes later, the captain came out, his face blank. “Blowjob,” he muttered, “just a blowjob.”
And it was my turn. I got up, my heart pounding and walked to the door. It swung open. Unbelievable. A palm tree in a large pot stood near the door. The walls of the room were lined with ceiling-high bookshelves. I spotted some titles as I walked by: “The Art of War,” “Mein Kampf,” “The Battle of Britain,” and thousands of training manuals.
Chonder sat behind a large, dark mahogany desk–Fuck, even his desk is muscled! The atmosphere of masculinity, power, strength–and sex was so strong in the room, I felt my cock hardening up even though I was scared.
Chonder lounged back in his chair. As I got closer, Damn! Finally naked!. And how naked! Big man. Burly. Muscled. But unbelievable! when I stood at his desk and could see into his lap, hell, he was a horse! My mouth fell open.
Biggest organ outside the New York Cathedral. Like a thick roll of black tarpaper. He motioned me to come around to him, then grabbed my arm and dragged me to him, his eyes feasting on me. My skin tingled as those laser beams scoured over me.
I was all prepared to yelp that I wanted no–but he stood up and with a shove, he turned me against the bookshelves. I wanted to yell, but I couldn’t! The erotic feeling in the room was so strong, all I could do was–No! “Wait! Wait a minute!” I held up hands, trying to look back. “Stop! I’m–uh–okay with all this! I like–naked–nude men–but I don’t–
–Before I could say anything else, he leaned me back, tipped my head further back to face him, and shazam, his tongue forced into my open mouth. I had to accept the invasion and the incredible, upside-down kiss. Chonder plunged the thick muscle of his tongue–God, is he big everywhere??–against mine, jabbing it, bullying it, raping it, bruising my lips.
After a second or two, while I still fought helplessly, arms flailing against the books, something hard pressed against my buns. Ohmigod, his cock! I broke loose from his mouth. “Wait a minute! I don’t”–but my own pecker bumped pleasantly against the wooden shelf. God in heaven, I’m hard too!
With a growl he kissed me again, his teeth biting my lower lip. He sucked at my lip, then at my tongue, and a wave of heat swept over me. His huge monster cock ground against me, and–again, I was no robot–I couldn’t fight the forest fire of passion building around me. I didn’t know how the hell it all happened, but that office was a school, and I wasn’t the teacher.
I gulped. I’d done the kissing bit before–it’s part of the foreplay, but I was always the player! Chonder was erasing something in me and writing in something new. No! Just a goddamn minute! I am not the bitch!
I couldn’t believe what happened next. Colonel Chonder spun me back around to face him then dropped to his knees. I stared, open-mouthed! He of the Elephant cock brought his mouth down on my eager pecker. Yes! A blowjob! This is more like it! Yes! I shouldn’t have worried! All is well; a man wants to suck my bazooka!
But Chonder’s mighty weapon pressed against my leg as he knelt there, drooling precum on my knee like boiling molasses, searing my leg as it slid sticky and slimy over my skin.
I knew what a deep-throat was, of course, but I always thought it was an urban legend. I can’t get so much as a tongue depressor in the back of my mouth without gagging. But–sonofabitch!–Chonder swallowed every last inch of my cock down his throat, and his nose pressed into what once would have been my pubic hair! Fuck!!
At first I was proud. Another trophy cocksucker. But suddenly I remembered a blowjob was the first step I always used when I seduced a new lover. Shit.
But it was too late. Like a teenager jacking off for the first time, riding the crest of discovery, I cummed in his mouth. Breathing hard, I was hoping that was all. Maybe this is what that captain was talking about–just a blowjob!
But Chonder stood up, wiped his chin, and his mighty arms grabbed me and turned me around again, folding me over an empty shelf. Fuck!! The next step is to rim the guy. You can’t resist sex after that.
I was helpless, an L-shape of anticipation. Anticipation?? Nothing made sense. Everything was familiar; I’d done all this before, but I did it! It wasn’t done to me! My world was upside-down!
Sure enough, Chonder knelt behind me again, and I knew what was coming. Out of control, I let him spread my legs. Then, to my roaring, insane, first-time enjoyment, a tongue stabbed at my asshole and spread a tapestry of fiery colors and seething patterns over me in incredible sensations I’d never felt before!
I gargled helpless sounds of ecstasy as lightning bolts shot up from my spiraling asshole. After so many years of giving them, I learned what a rim-job felt like. God, is this what happens?? No wonder all those guys begged me to fuck them! Chonder had me right where he wanted me–and for as much as I didn’t want it, I wanted it.
Total Surrender
I heard myself: “Yeah! C’mon! Fuck me!” My voice was hoarse, husky gasps. Didn’t sound like my voice.
Chonder stood up, moving my legs apart, and I knew what he was after. And no way could I stop him. Even after 22 years of being The Man, every thought in my head crystallized into a single craving. On the edge of the erotic bookshelf, my ass was exposed to him like an apple the timid schoolboy put on the teacher’s desk. Like Chuck-o’s asshole winking up at me in The Invisible Man.
The nozzle of Chonder’s giant genital touched my love-tunnel, and with my last conscious thought, my skull echoed with, Oh, my god, this is going to HURT!
I bent my head down onto the shelf as he began to push in. Shit fire! The pain was like a finger from the Sun! A red-hot poker! He gripped my hips and stretched my hole out so far, for a minute I thought he was torturing me with a wine bottle up my ass. But finally, with a jolt, his helmet popped through my straining sphincter.
He paused there, to my everlasting gratitude, letting his new boy “get acquainted” with his size. And gradually, although my eyes watered, I had to admit the pain lessened. I still winced as he pushed in a few more inches, though.
After what seemed like an hour of fiery pain, his balls pressed against my smaller ones. I gritted my teeth. Now begins the hard part. Chonder began fucking me, his pace slow and gentle at first, and to my incredulity (again) it grew wonderful! A kaleidoscope of pleasure, pain, ecstasy, stings, sizzling friction, and above all lust! God, I was hot! I heard myself begging for it.
The schluck-schluck-schluck sound, so obscene and humilitating, was suddenly an exultation. The music of male rut–Chonder’s washing machine. The longer he fucked me, the easier it became. Finally I was eager, panting, begging him to give me a pounding, and he reamed me out into something that could make a race-horse horny.
Finally reaching his climax, he cummed inside me, and I craved to feel him pumping my guts full. I was so delirious, I almost passed out, mouth open, panting, eyes closed in exhilaration. Receiving.
Until he was done.
Chonder’s milt inside me painted me a new color. From the inside. When his cock softened and he pulled it out (even soft, it was too fat to slide out by itself), my ass-ring was a necklace around it, thrilling with every bump and vein in its magical, life-changing surface. My asshole was looser, a bigger hole. Globs of his cum drooled out. Proof of conquest.
I was marked. His territory. When he takes me next time, it won’t hurt. My ass was his. I had not fucked, I had been fucked. As a man, that made me feel guilty, but I couldn’t deny it: Chonder pleasured me like never before–and not from my cock. Not as a man.
I staggered out of his office and back to my barracks room. Took a slug of Jack Daniels (I came prepared). I got it all from my ass. During that session, I didn’t miss my cock. I cummed through it, all right, but the orgasm started in my ass. I gulped. I’m like that guy, that captain.. A bitch. No longer a man.
A nervous wreck, I couldn’t stay in my room! Had to get out! Get some fresh air. Anything!
The Son Also Rises
I walked, ran, staggered for a while, aimlessly. Then, exhausted, sobered, I started making my way back to my room. On my way, I had to take a leak, so I took a quick detour into the nearest barracks to use their latrine. As I passed by the officers’ separate rooms, I heard low growls: “Motherfucker, take me! God, your cock is like sandpaper! Faster, I don’t care if it hurts! Cum on my back, I want your jizz all over me!”
Well, I’ll be damned. Quietly I pushed open the door.
Couldn’t believe my eyes. Todd!
What a sight! As I moved silently closer, I was so turned on I could hardly breathe. The fuck-lunging going on before me was too much! Hard, athletic muscles in Todd’s sculptured butt heaved slowly back and forth in a beautiful rhythm, and with each forward movement, I could imagine his victim’s guts spreading to make room. Damn!
Todd knelt behind his guy, thighs under the man’s outstretched legs, lifting the poor bastard’s hips, making him arch his back, aligning the asshole with Todd’s lunging cock. I could hardly breathe! Todd’s ball sack hung low, still swinging back and forth–the man was a long-distance runner; no quick-bang from him. The reamee below him was in for a long night of it.
I stood there in awe. My boy! As he slowly slugged in and out, I could see his bitch’s guts had wet his cock, and the bitch was grateful–a moan escaped him.
God, I was jealous. But not of my son. I wanted to be that groaning, pleasure-glowing bitch below him. I was so horny I couldn’t stop stroking my dick as I watched. But I knew I couldn’t let Todd catch me. Finally, I backed out into the hall and walked back out to the street. All the way back to my own barracks, my head buzzed. I don’t want Todd to know I’m into man-sex. It would destroy his opinion of me.
–Hey, my opinion of him just went up in a puff of jizz!
I don’t want Todd to know I’m into man-sex because he would tell his mother.
–Hey, he was fucking the guy with a skill that made my legs spread! He’s no beginner. He hasn’t told his parents about this!
I don’t want Todd to know I’m into man-sex because he won’t like me any more.
–Hey, if what he was doing to that writhing, moaning slut beneath him was “won’t-like,” he can won’t-like me until his cum spurts out of my ears!
The decision was made: I was going to be made. But how am I going to trigger this? I can’t just go up to him and say, ‘Todd, I want you to fuck me.'”
–Why not? Is that a rule?
Yeah, come to think of it, why not? I got up from my bunk and walked to the door, hardon bobbing in the air ahead of me, bound for my son’s barracks to bring him back with me. As I opened the door, though, I met a crowd of soldiers coming back to my barracks from whatever they’d been doing. Whatever naked soldiers do in their free time. But the fucking place was packed, public, un-romantic–not the atmosphere I wanted for my first romance with my son.
Shit. I went back to sit on my bunk.
Then a knock at the door.
As I opened the door, I stubbed my toe against it, so I was looking down as it swung open. When I looked up, Fuck!
Todd stood there like a Greek statue, legs spread, and my eyes snapped to his Coke-bottle cock, bloated to Attention and hard as a drill sergeant’s swagger stick. Incredible!
He stepped into the room, and I closed the door. And I locked it. I wasn’t exactly sure why he was there, but I was determined that “a situation” would develop. What a kid. I couldn’t help but admire him. The fruit of my loins. And hung better. That beautiful specimen of manhood had me instantly covered in a sheen of sweat.
He looked at me with a confused, almost panicked expression, so I decided to bet all my chips on what I thought he might be feeling: If he was as hot for me as I was for him, he would be wondering how in hell he could communicate that to his father.
Oh, hell, son, you’re past asking! My asshole’s onioned out, twitching to get that elephant trunk of yours up it! Without a word, staring into his eyes, I dropped to my knees.
Finally my tongue met the object of my affection. I rubbed his thighs as I inhaled the spice of his crotch and licked at Nowenski Cock, Jr. As I mouthed it, sucking like a starving man, his hand dropped to my head, pulling me closer. Ohh, yes! I smelled cum, the scent of the family jewels, and I tasted some old semen, probably from his last bitch. I tried to take him deep, but I’m not a practiced cocksucker–can’t deep-throat.
Father/Son Bonding
He grunted happily, though. “Dad–I never dreamed–God, I’m hot–you’re suckin’ my–”
I tasted the saltiness of precum. Good! I’m turning on my own son! And something else: I was sucking him as a bitch, not as one guy trying to seduce another. At the end of this father-son chat, I wanted my son to recycle his cum back to where it originated.
So imagine my excitement when he pulled his stiffie out of my mouth, and I heard, “That’s enough, Dad, I’ve got a better place to let go. Lie back on your bunk.”
I was thrilled. He wasn’t asking me, his voice wasn’t timid and uncertain. The Man had ordered me to lie back and spread ’em. I obeyed. “All right, Todd, get down here and lemme have it. Hurry.”
He smiled. “It’s breeding time, Dad. Let’s see if I can make you pregnant.”
My voice was so husky I could hardly understand myself: “Vaseline! In jar–under bed!”
He reached under, and I heard the lid rattle on the floor as he flipped it off the jar. Then he roughly swiped a handful up and down my ass-crack, fingering it into my rectum. I watched worshipfully as he slathered the lube over his gorgeous cock.
As he crouched down over me, mounting me, he murmured, “God, this is a dream! You’re my dream man, Dad, exactly what I want in a bitch.”
That jolted me at first, but then those words swept through me like Spanish Fly. With a groan I reached down to cup his virile nuts. And I said it: “Todd, make me your bitch. Fuck me, you big bastard!” I opened my legs wider for him.
Still fingering me, he smiled. “I’m no bastard. I know who my mother and father are.”
God, I was horny! Breathing hard, I gasped, “Hurry up, man, and I’ll show you who your bitch is!” I couldn’t believe how he drove me crazy! “Come on, boy, get even with me for all those years of spanking! Fuck me, Todd!”
I wondered how many men had been in my situation, lying under Todd, eager, their puckers twitching and itching to get stretched, but I’d never been so hungry for sex–and never to have it done to me until that night. I took a deep breath as Todd lowered that fabulous, erotically misshapen meat to my eager hole. My lucky day! Chonder stretched me out so sex with Todd is pure, fucking heaven!
A large drop of precum hung from his cockhead. I lifted my legs and he positioned himself between them. Grabbing under each of my knees, he raised my legs and spread them back until my thighs were touching my chest. The ultimate spreading, crotch-baring, overpowering position, and to his own father!
I was so humiliated I lurched my asshole upward, seeking his cock–in some ways it was my cock. Our cock. And then I felt my rectum spreading, spreading around him! Ohh, this is what I was born for!
My asshole closed behind his cockhead, then Arrgh! it swelled out around the Coke bottle. Then ahh, back down around the shaft. Then he pulled out, getting a quick “Ah!” from me as my asshole got the double-yank. Then the same back in, faster and faster, until he was humping me in that slow, virile, masculine dance, his body undulating over me like an ocean wave pounding against my sandy bitch–Ah, God, it’s too much!! The blips of pain as my ass-ring stretched over his camel’s hump turned into motorboat throbs, sharp pains that blended together into an orgasm! Almost against my will, I was humping under him, squealing and gasping, out of my fucking mind!
Gushes! I shot motherfucking gushes of cum! So hard the first three actually bounced off his chest and splashed me in the face. And fine, so fine! Like surfing nude down a tidal wave of male! Oh, god! Fuck, it was good!
“You–multi-orgasm–bitch–old man!” I looked up. Todd’s face was sweaty, his eyes wide. God, he likes this! I turn him on! That made me so hot, I instantly got into his fuck routine again, and another nut built up.
“Gonna plant you–you deep–bitch–you be cunt–forever!”
Again! The son of a bitch–no, I can’t even call him that–made me so hot with those horny words, he fanned the fire in my hips, and like a natural born–he said it–cunt, I stiffened up again and flowered for him–blossoming out into the bitch’s tribute to the man, another mind-blowing ejaculation, and never had I touched my own cock! “Fuck me,” I growled, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”
He chuckled. Still in control. “Always–wondered.” He gave me a particularly hard lunge, and I let out a worshipful grunt. I looked up and tried to smile, but I was in such bliss, my eyes rolled back in my head.
“You–crave my cum–old man–always knew–you would.” He didn’t know the half of it. By that point, simmering in the afterglow of the last cumming, I felt a new one starting up, all I wanted was to have his kid, to have Todd knock me up!
My cock spurting my surrender again, he saw I was his property, his bitch, his cum-slut slave, and still humping like the long-distance fucker he was, he smiled down at me. “Things–gonna change–back home.”
Fuck, yeah! I’ll spend every night on my back. Figure out something to get Blanche out of the house.
“Your cunt–mine–now on!–You belong–my bitch–my dick–in you–spreading legs for me!” I couldn’t think of anything to reply–or even think. All I knew was that I had never felt such total, overall, brain-frying pleasure in my whole fucking life! I locked my legs behind my son’s hips, and like a goddamn rutting bull, he snorted, blowing flecks of spit from his mouth as he took over total mastery of my hole, short-stroking me with crotch-bruising lunges, caveman-insane, “father” and “son” gone from his brain, his only, madman thoughts of a fucking male planting his seed in the obedient meat below him!
As he power-fucked me like I was an inflatable doll, I actually felt four intense shots jetting up my guts like blasts from a firehose! He drove me into yet another orgasm, my fuck-tube convulsing around his root, which he jammed so far into me, he reached places only Colonel Chonder had!
My son! was the last thought I remember. Warmth filled me. Pleasure. Happiness. Ecstasy. I held him tight, slobbery kisses against his neck. My son. I was always meant to be with my son! My mate. My man. It felt wonderful to be his bitch.
I couldn’t believe it. When he finally came down, he was whole again. A man in control. “This isn’t over, old man. I’ll expect more from now on.” I nodded drunkenly. He wiped himself off on my sheet and walked to the door. He looked back and smiled. “See you, bitch.” He opened the door and left.
I lay back, totally serviced, Nowensky jizz literally gurgling from my stretched and blissful asshole. I wiped sweat from my face, staring at the ceiling. I’d felt the world move under me.
Afterglow
For something like six weeks I worked with Project Invisible Man. I asked them why they called it that, by the way, “The men aren’t invisible; their clothes are!” They tut-tutted me. Said they could’ve called it anything, but “Project Invisible Man” sounded better than “Project Visible Dick.”
I worked to produce training programs for the great day when the ICPA would be given to all US troops. Boggled the mind, really. Troops assaulting an enemy shore, a horde of naked men impervious to bullets marching with hardons to Victory!
Todd did me every night in my barracks room. I hoped Project Invisible Man would go on for years.
Didn’t happen, though. Suddenly the whole shebang came to an end. The explanation was that DOD labs came up with something greatly superior, making Project Invisible Man obsolete.
I asked what, of course, but I got the Sorry-Top-Secret response. The Army thanked me, paid me, and returned my suitcase of clothes.
I went back to the university, stretched Chuck-o’s neglected and tightened asshole, and got a key to Todd’s apartment. Life became two secrets–Chuck-o a secret from Blanche, Todd a secret from Chuck-o and Blanche.
And further complications: Todd began to murmur about “jacking off to thoughts of Mom yelping as I fucked her.” What the hell, I started putting hints in Blanche’s head about what a terrific lover Todd probably was. “I saw his cock, baby. It would straighten you out like a javelin.”
She giggled. Gave me that Mona Lisa smile.
Incredible.