Upper Heyford II

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Illustration by Michael Kirwan 

Story by John Payne

 

 

Originally published in Inches magazine - September, 1995

 

 

Young Brit gets all the GI meat he can eat.

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Slammer, the big red-headed GI, slowed his fucking of my nineteen-year-old ass, his hoarse panting echoing against the walls of the dimly lit lavatory stall. Ben, his buddy and comrade-in-arms, changed his pace too, gliding more slowly all the way in and then all the way back out of my mouth. Ben, at about six-foot-two, sported an incredible pair of long, muscular legs. I had a better view of what hung between them now, and relished the sight of that silky black shaft with its deep purple cock-head, ten inches of stiff, veiny meat with a girth that made me gag.

The two of them kept up their slow, tormenting rhythm, nudging, teasing and caressing me front and back with their fuck-poles. "Hey, Ben," said Slammer, yanking his prick free of my aching hole, "this little Brit has some wet boy-pussy for you to plug here. Slide right in and enjoy the ride." Ben pulled out of my mouth, moved behind me and plugged my hole in one thrust. Meanwhile, Slammer took Ben's place in front of me and began smacking my slobbery face with his ten-plus inches. His leathery foreskin was pulled back off the bulbous mushroom head, and his big, smooth balls, hairless save for a light sprinkling of red pubes, swung wildly, stinking of sex. "I'm about to shoot his gut full of jizz any second now, Slam," Ben panted.

"Yeah, I'm almost there too. Hey, what say let's give him a real taste of GI jizz," said Slammer in his tormenting manner.

Ben pulled his dick out of my well and truly plugged hole, and Slam stood and grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me around and sitting me down on the john. I knew what was coming.

Both guys stood in front of me pulling furiously on their dicks. "Let's shoot together, man," said Ben. "Let him get a real taste of military juice."

"Yeah, open up that pretty mouth of yours, kid," Slammer ordered, pushing the sweaty brown bangs back out of my eyes. "Ya gonna get a double load," uttered Slammer as his breath quickened. "Open wide. kiddo, I'm gonna shoot my load all over yer face and fill ya fulla spunk!"

"Yeah, me too! This baby's gonna blow," gasped Ben. They both moved as close as they could get and their dicks were slapping up and down, just grazing my lips. They continued pumping and I watched their piss slits fly open as first one, then the other, began spurting hot cum across my mouth, lips and cheeks. The two guys finished off the job by shoving both dicks back into my mouth and, just as the last spasms of cum shot out, coating the back of my throat, Ben reached down and grabbed my bobbing seven inches, bringing me off with a few yanks. I was still sitting dazed, slumped over, and thoroughly satisfied for the first time in my life, as the two of them shoved their GI meat back into their pants and left, laughingly inviting me to drop by the base sometime and service them.

This was my introduction to real man-sex in Upper Heyford, back in the good old days when GIs strutted their big baskets up and down the streets of my little village. I was just nineteen, living on a small farm not two miles from the military base, muscled and tanned from field work and going crazy with the hormones of adolescence.

Every night that week I snuck down to the toilets, hiding my bicycle in the bushes and hanging out in the shadows, hoping that one of my new friends would saunter over from the nearby Kings Head pub in search of sex. But it was a lonely week for me down there, until my luck changed that next Saturday night, a week after my initiation.

When I entered the lavatory that night I saw a guy in motorbike gear standing at the middle urinal. He wore tight blue jeans that accentuated muscular thighs and a great pair of buns. His black leather boots reached halfway up his calves and cream-colored, thick-woven wool socks crowned the top of his boots, folded down over the tops. Letting my eyes travel further up, I noticed a new looking black leather jacket and a red scarf around his neck. He still had his helmet on and the deep black visor was down, obscuring any view of his hidden face.

The anonymity that his mask gave him turned me on even more. I cleared my throat to let him know I was there and stood at the urinal adjacent to him. I removed my dick and let it hang there without pissing and let it gradually stiffen in rhythm with my pounding heart. I glanced down from the corner of my eye at the cock next to me. To my surprise it was hard and the guy was caressing it his sturdy black leather gloves.

My dick rose to full attention letting him know of my interest. I gave it a few inviting strokes and retreated to the middle cubicle, leaving the door ajar. Next, I heard the sound of his boots clicking on the floor as he sauntered over to me, holding his stiff hooded dick in his hands. As he entered my cubicle I sank to my knees and immediately took the full length of his eight-inch boner into my salivating mouth. I gagged at first, but the excitement of going down on the faceless biker got me hotter than ever. He cupped my face with his leather-clad hands and slowly eased his dick in and out, getting it good and wet. Withdrawing his cock, he held it at the base so that it was bobbing just an inch or two above my lips. Slowly and tantalizingly he began pulling the generous hood-skin back along his dick, revealing a glistening and engorged mushroom head the size of a plum. The piss slit was slightly open and droplets of pre-cum oozed their way out, filling the air with their sensuous scent. I licked the underside of his cock. Gently and teasingly, I ran my tongue around the corona and eased open his piss slit. Next I encased that bulbous head completely in my warm wet lips, and muffled groans emanated from within the closed helmet. It began oozing more pre-cum than I could believe. The taste of his bittersweet man juice made me hungry for the cum I hoped would soon begin shooting out in spurts of pleasure.

He cupped my head once more in his leather-clad hands and slid his dick back down my eager throat, this time much deeper and with more intention as he began fucking my face. His groans became more intense, and suddenly he stopped and withdrew his dick from my mouth. At first I was confused and then I instinctively knew what was on his mind. He removed one of his leather boots and placed the toe against my mouth. "Lick it clean, sunshine," came a deep but muffled voice. I began licking and the faceless biker started beating his meat in unison with my own beating. I licked every inch of his boots and sucked on the toe as if it was dick. His breathing got quicker and he pulled away his boot and nuzzled it just under his balls as he shot wad after wad of steamy hot white jizz over the now, gleaming boot. He groaned and rubbed his dick into it and squeezed out every last drop of cum. Grabbing me by the hair, he put the boot into my face. "Lick it clean, lap up every last drop of my cum, kid."

I did as I was told and in no time I boiled over with the scent of leather and pungent, gooey cum. I shot my load onto the floor and across his other boot. I sat there panting and soon I was on my hands and knees servicing the other boot, lapping up my own cum. Once finished, I was on my knees before him and he returned his dick to my mouth and I lapped up the last droplets of cum.

He zipped up and adjusted his clothing and left, remaining as faceless as ever. I sat in my cubicle and pondered my next move. The biker was obviously not going to be a regular thing and the army boys hadn't shown up all week. I sat for ten minutes or so and saw that it was getting late.

Then totally unexpectedly, Slammer was standing in the cubicle doorway. "Wake you up kid?" he asked.

"Er, yeah, I was thinking," I offered feebly.

"No doubt thinking about this," he said, grabbing his dick through the material of his beige pants. "Listen, kid. There's gonna be a party up at the base and you can be the special guest. If you know what I mean. Them guys are gettin' real turned on just by hearin' me and Ben talkin' about ya. Wanna go for it?"

With my head filled with images of endless dicks and fuckin' and suckin', I just couldn't turn him down. "Yeah. But how?" I offered, trying to suppress my excitement.

"I'm an MP, so there's no problem. You get in the back of my jeep. Just keep low and I'll take care of the rest," Slammer explained nonchalantly.

Before I knew it, we were past the security gates and on our way over to "B" Barracks. It was already past lights out and the silence of the place was scary. Slam parked his jeep next to a side entrance and motioned for me to go in quickly. On entering the building I sensed a surging atmosphere of sex as I stood in the dark listening to my beating heart and becoming conscious of my breathing. Slammer entered just behind me and pressed himself up against my butt. He chewed lightly on my ears and whispered, "Sorry, kid. Gotta do this. We can't take any chances." Without a struggle he handcuffed me. I was calm and somehow felt that I could trust him. He gently placed a blindfold over my eyes and secured it quite tightly. There I was, totally at his mercy, bound and blindfolded in a military base about to be "enjoyed" by God knows how many GIs.

He guided me through a couple of corridors and then into a room. I sensed that there were several others there. Nothing was said, but I could hear the distinct sound of breathing and felt the sexual tension increasing. Slam walked me over to what I guessed was the center of the room and knelt me down on a mattress of some sorts. He then announced to the others that he would take guard and return later.

I knelt there, blindfolded and cuffed, and awaited whatever they had decided for me. I soon got to know that there were five of them: Big Ben, a soldier named Grunt, and three others.

"Wondering how many there are, kid?" asked a sneering voice.

"Let him count cock," said another. They all laughed, and one by one they walked up to me and slid their dicks into my mouth, counting aloud.

"This is cock number one, kid," said the first as he held my head and nearly choked me on it. This went on until I had counted five.

They took turns feeding their dicks to me and were gradually getting hornier and hornier. Each would let me suck his cock for a minute or two and then the next would take his place. Finally, they were all on the brink and I could tell that they were standing in a ring around me. As each of them got close to the edge of cumming, they would shove their dicks back into my overstretched mouth and shoot. I recognized the feel and taste of Ben's big black cock, and once more savored his jetting jizz as spurts lunged down my throat and spilled out over my lips and chin.

The guy who identified himself as Grunt was also unique. The veins on his dick almost vibrated with his ever deepening grunts, "Aaaaargh, take it all, kid," he let out in a howl as he too filled me with hot gobs of fuck-juice. The other three dicks were just as eager. One in particular had the girth of a wrist and stretched me to the full as the GI tried to force it even deeper into my hungry mouth. As he came, he withdrew his cock and spewed his load over my face. It came and came, spurt after spurt of jizz covering my chin, lips and cheeks.

Once the fifth dick had dumped its load, the first guy was ready to go again. They flipped me onto my back, and my arms began to ache under the weight of my body as I was still handcuffed. My legs were lifted into the air as someone straddled me and grabbed my ankles. Next, a hot wet tongue began a frenzied assault on my tight and nervous hole. Meanwhile another GI straddled my face and began feeding me more cock.

The slurping of the hot tongue on my hole was doing its job and I felt myself relaxing and getting into the whole scene, although I still had little voices screaming warnings inside my head. The tongue was soon replaced by a finger, then two and finally three. A GI was finger-fucking me, and I was filled with anticipation of the plugging to come as the fingers fucking my hole increased tempo.

"Give him some real meat," I heard a voice call out. Without warning, the guy fingering my hole replaced his fingers with his fat dick. Right to the hilt, immediately pumping a real heavy fuck into me.

The cock was removed from my mouth, and the guy holding up my legs by the ankles took a seat on my face. My head was almost encased in his butt, and I licked tentatively at his manhole. This position continued for about five minutes until I felt the pace of the jabbing dick quicken as it deepened its urgent thrusts, deeper and deeper now. I clenched my sphincter around the pulsating shaft and felt the spasm that brought its owner over the edge into orgasm. "Yeah. Man, oh, man. Yeah. Take that fuckin' load," he screamed.

The guy sitting on my face switched places and soon had his cock pistoning in and out of me as another took his place sitting on my face and holding my ankles. This cycle continued until all five had filled my guts with their jizz.

Then Slammer returned, as if the whole thing had been perfectly timed. He flipped me over onto my stomach and uncuffed me. My arms were weak from the lack of blood and they flopped slightly.

He finally got me onto all fours and took his position behind me. I figured that he had a reputation to keep up because he immediately began pumping my ass like an untamed beast. "Oh, yeah. Feel them balls slamming against your butt, kid?" he gasped between thrusts. His balls were really hitting hard up against my butt. Slammer held my hips and lucked even harder, but I could tell that he was far from ready.

Next he flipped me over and lodged the back of my knees over his shoulders. His thrusting became deeper and slower as he relished the feel of my hot greased-up hole caressing the fullness of his long hard dick. Leaning forward he pressed his tongue against my lips and they parted easily to his demand. He tasted of cigarettes and beer. I don't know what the other guys were thinking, but the room was silent as he continued his long deep thrusts of both cock and tongue.

His pace increased and I could tell he was ready. Removing his meat he straddled my belly. As he pumped his rod, he removed my blindfold and my eyes were greeted with the sight of five other dicks being jacked in pace with Slammer's. They formed a ring as close as possible around me and one by one each shot his load of cum. Spurting jets of white jizz splashed across my chest and face while Slam continued to jack his mammoth meal just inches from my mouth. Slam let out a howl and thrust his hips further forward. I surprised myself by lifting my head so that my lips came to rest on his dick.

"Yeah, baby. Take that load. I'm gonna shoot!" And he did. He gushed and gushed and my mouth filled with his bitter taste. I swallowed a little and let the rest run lingeringly down my chin. Slam knelt beside me now and began pulling on my tits as he jacked my dick. A wave of euphoria moved up and over my body, my ecstatic breathing seeming to electrify the entire room as it turned into delirious and resounding howls of pleasure.

A hand covered my mouth to mute me as my body convulsed in spasms of exquisite orgasm. I shot my load in a gut-wrenching contraction of my entire lower body. My prostate was on fire and I almost lost consciousness in the delirium.

I was totally spent, and as I recovered I noticed that Slam was gently caressing my body with a towel, wiping away all the spunk. He winked at me and whispered "Thanks, kid."

That night was just the beginning. There were more sessions with the guys from "B" Barracks. Over the following year, Slam would sneak me into the barracks for group action, or sometimes he would meet me privately in the woods and use me the way we both wanted him to. He even introduced me to some of the local guys he'd met down at the pub, and I didn't want for dick, down my throat or up my backside, and that's sure.

Then they finally closed the base and all the Yanks went home. I moved to Liverpool to look for work and other things. I wasn't there long before I joined a tramp steamer--but that's another story.

 

THE  END

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Any images, writings or other content on this website may be copied for personal viewing only.
They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
nor used for any other purpose without the express written permission of the artist or KirwanArts.com.