Originally published in Torso magazine - December, 1995
Who's The Slut?
by Pvt. Ted Ogilvey
Marine assigned to guard nudist beach
My first time was in the Marine Corps. Although I heard of barracks shenanigans between men, I never saw any. I heard of ship's sluts when the Marines were aboard Navy vessels, but I never saw one--that I knew of. I never had man-sex until guard duty at camp.
The beach at San Onofre is a famous surfing spot, and up 'til the Sixties, the Marine Corps and the surfers had been hassling each other--the Corps wanted it off-limits, the surfers wanted those hot waves. Finally the Corps declared the portion of the beach around the railroad trestles open to the public--and a portion of that developed into a nude beach!
The Corps didn't approve of naked civilians on its military sand, so Jeep patrols occasionally went through the area watching for the skinny-dippers. One day in 1977, I got that assignment. I drove to the beach that afternoon, but it was deserted. The day was hot. God, was it hot. Sweat soaked my uniform, and that surf looked sooo good.
Don 't get me wrong, I'm not a troublemaker, but on that occasion the temptation was just too great. Nobody was around. Nobody would know.
I stripped off my uniform, put it in the Jeep, and sprinted into the water. It felt sooo good! With the first touch, the brisk ocean waves washed away the drudgery and oppression of the day. l swam out about a hundred yards or so.
When I looked back to the beach, I saw someone looking at me. I was far enough away that I couldn't see the face, but I could see the person was a nudist. I could see he was a man. I could see his dick.
I started swimming back, watching him all the time, planning on arresting him as soon as I got out. He was about forty-five or so, tall, and had an aggressive build. I still couldn't see his face clearly, but he was hairy and had big shoulders and pecs. Yep, he was a male. He had a big, dark thatch between his legs, and a big pecker unmistakable even from a distance.
Fully intending to arrest the brazen bastard, I swam back to shallow water, stood up, and began to walk through the water. The closer I got, the better I saw him. He weighed about two hundred and fifty and was a real stallion--brown with tan, rippling with muscles. His cock belonged on a horse. It was a fat and heavy thing and sagged halfway to his knees!
By the time the water level was below my waist, I could see him clearly. His chiseled, masculine-looking face had high cheekbones and bushy eyebrows. His short brown hair would have passed inspection in the Marine Corps, but he was a nudist.
He was staring at my cock. I was suddenly embarrassed--I was naked, too. How could I arrest somebody for doing what I was doing?
"How ya doin'?" he called out.
I had planned to snap that he was a miscreant on military property, but since I was as nude as he was, I squeaked, "Okay. How're you?"
He really was big, developed like a prizefighter. His upper body was in big, rippling muscles, and his nipples were dark-colored bull's-eyes. He was mahogany-tanned--and he had no swimming-suit line. This man went naked a lot.
His biceps swelled out when he put his hands on his hips, standing casually at the water's edge, watching me stride out of the ocean. His armpits were dark and hairy. I had never seen anything so lewd and nasty, and that wasn't even considering his cock. I dropped my glance to his crotch again and couldn't believe my eyes--his cock was inflating. He was getting a hard-on.
And so was I.
His belly was hard and washboardy around the deep indentation of his bellybutton, and his cock rose up, getting even bigger, until it reached up to that bellybutton! *God!* I licked my lips nervously. At the apex of his crotch was the Father of All Cocks. He was the proud owner of a dick that had to be at least twelve inches long! The head was as big as a shovel! The shaft reminded me of a tree trunk!
My pecker was as hard as his (but not as big)--and what had turned me on, I suddenly realized, was his cock. I blushed. Then I shivered. What a dick he had!
As I walked up to him, he reached down and stroked it, jacking off for me. What an obscene bastard! The skin slid over it so easily, I realized he was uncircumcised.
Yeah. It would be a crime to cut a dick like that.
The horse-hung man looked at me and said, "Looks like you have a little problem down there."
"Yeah." What else could I say?
"Let me help you out." His big hand reached for my cock, and when he touched it, such a thrill shot through me, I couldn't have stopped him if a general had given me a direct order.
A man' s hand on my cock felt wonderful. How much more exciting his touch was than my own hand!
Since turnabout's fair play, I reached for his dick. Oh, yeah. His handsome pecker-shaft was thicker than my wrist, and when I stroked it, I pulled his foreskin up over the head. When I pulled it back down again, the cock-head popped out like a man putting on a T-shirt.
Then he blew my mind--he blew my cock. The muscular monster dropped to one knee and sucked my dick into his mouth! My God, that was the most exciting feeling I ever had! Fiery thrills shot through me! I found myself flying toward an orgasm faster than ever before.
But suddenly he stopped. He stood up and looked at me with a smile. He wanted something. What?
Turnabout? Fair play?
Okay, I dropped to one knee and tried to get his huge dong in my mouth. My jaws spread apart pain fully, but I couldn't get it all in.
I sucked anyway, jacking the shaft with both hands. I must have given him some thrills, because he humped his hips at me and grunted, "Unh! Unnh! Unnnh!"
The guy must not have blasted off for months-when he ejaculated into my mouth, the big cock-plum locked my jaws open, and a white mass of sperm gushed from his piss-hole in such a tremendous amount, I almost drowned. He gave me such an athletic surge, it went straight down my throat, and I gulped hot semen before I realized what was happening.
I swear, his cannonading piss-hole was so big, I desperately stuck my tongue down it, trying to plug the flood of jizz. That actually drove him to greater ejaculations.
When he finally burned out, I was a pornographic sight-a naked Marine on his knee to a strange man, his USMC dick up-jutting and hard, his gyrene face, neck, shoulders, chest, and belly dripping with white, stringy cum.
He smiled. "Good boy," he murmured. "Good boy."
And that pissed me off. I ain't nobody's "boy." I was a U.S. Marine! But I felt pretty foolish. I had been messing around with overpowering forces and discovered something in myself I never knew about before. I was no innocent--I jacked off all the time like the other guys, but I never realized how much I appreciated the male body.
The man stepped back from me and walked away, leaving me kneeling on the beach with a hard dick. I got up and ran into the water to wash the sperm off. When I came out of the water again, he was out of sight.
I went back to the Jeep, put my uniform back on, and continued the patrol. I decided never to tell anybody about my beachfront blow-job.
I slept restlessly that night. I was in tumult. Everything I had been taught was collapsing. I had sex with a man, but it felt great! I had to admit it: I wanted more.
The next day, standing in the mess hall with a cup of coffee, I noticed a new guy. He had yellow hair and a heavy beard. He was clean-shaven, but his jaw was dark--a very masculine shadow. He had huge, blue eyes, and since he was sitting at a table alone, I joined him. '"You're new, aren't you?" I said. "Mind if I sit down?"
His blond eyebrows gave him a Nordic look, and his skin was clear and smooth--never had acne, I noted bitterly. I liked his mouth when he spoke. His lips were expressive and seductive, and his teeth were clean and white.
But they were crooked. This was no rich boy who had grown up with braces. He had the crooked teeth of a working man.
We talked as he ate his breakfast and I nursed the coffee. Gradually, I led the conversation around to sex, and soon we were talking about ship's sluts. I admitted I never saw one. "I knew one," he said, and we began to talk about him.
Palmer, my new friend, described the homo, and his jaw stuck out as he talked. The memory excited him. The way he told it, the idea of a man waiting in a shipboard closet, sucking any who appeared in his doorway, was a compelling story. I jostled in my seat to adjust myself, and when he saw me, he whistled between his teeth. "Gettin' a hard-on?" he asked.
He lowered his voice. "Want to do something about it? "
We went to a nearby warehouse. It was full of uniforms, paper, and other dry-goods storage, and the place was deserted.
I figured Palmer had done this before, so I didn't waste any time with loose talk. He was a pleasure-seeker, and so was I. My hard-on throbbed like it did on the beach.
"Spread those legs," he said in a husky voice, "and let's see what you could do with a ship's slut." He caressed me between the legs, molding the bulge of my time-bomb, and that sent such a tremor through me, I couldn't get my fatigue pants open fast enough. My cock felt big as a duffel bag.
Suddenly, I realized who the ship 's slut had been. Palmer stood breathing hard, rigid with expectation, eager to get my boner into his mouth!
That made me so horny, my dick went off almost the very second he sucked it into his throat. I reached the critical point, and a red hell of stimulation lifted me off the surface of the earth!
My vision faded away in a red haze as his mouth stretched open around my dong. His hand massaged my testicles, driving me even harder into the orgasm. When the stimulation was more than I could stand, the wetness pulsed out, and Palmer gulped like a sea bass.
No sooner did I finish than we heard the door of the warehouse--someone was coming! I quickly tucked myself back in and fastened my fly, and Palmer got to his feet.
We both grabbed cases of typewriter paper and started walking toward the door. I started talking. "--And I said, Captain, I'll get that typewriter paper for you myself ..." We walked by two sergeants standing at the door. They looked at us, but didn't say anything.
Once around the corner, we tossed the cases in a garbage can and separated, heading back to our own units. I would get together with Palmer again real soon. A ship's slut is a handy man to know.
That afternoon, my sergeant gave me a message. "You've been ordered up to headquarters," he said. "You got an appointment with Colonel Danzig. What in hell have you done?"
Oh, shit. What was that about? You never got called to headquarters unless you had fucked up.
At the appointed hour, I reported to the colonel's office. "Go on in," said his aide. I opened the door to the office and stepped in.
"Colonel Danzig, sir! Private Ogilvey reporting, sir!" I piped, and snapped a smart salute. The colonel was looking out the window of his office. He turned around.
The man on the beach! My jaw dropped, and I gasped.
"Took me some time, Ogilvey," he said, "but I found you."
I stood like a statue carved into a salute.
"You didn't do a very good job of keeping that beach free of nudists," he continued. "Drop that salute and come here."
I relaxed and stepped closer. "Stand at Attention," he snapped. I clicked into a rigid stance.
"I liked you, Ogilvey," he said, walking around me. "I liked you from the first time I saw you." He bent his head and licked at my neck. For a second, I wondered if he was a vampire! Then he embraced me! Astonished, I hugged him back, but, "Attention!" he hissed in my ear, and I returned to a stiff posture. His hand groped between my legs, and in a second he had my pecker as hard as an M-16.
He stroked it through the cloth of my fatigues, continuing to hug and squeeze me, and soon he had me breathing in quick, aroused puffs. "We can't," I whispered, "do anything--*puff! puff! puff!*--in here! What if--*huh! huh! huh!*--somebody comes through the door?"
"Nobody will," he murmured in my ear. "This is my office." He unclasped my last sense of decency when his hand unbuttoned my fly and his mouth covered mine in a horny kiss.
I didn't really want to submit to him again. I wanted a man to service me, not the other way around. I wanted to be the man on top, but the colonel maneuvered me back toward his desk. Before I knew what was happening, he bent me back over it, my black boots on the floor but my crotch jutting up at him from the edge of his desk.
He pulled my pants open. I wanted to be the dominant one, and I even grunted, "Wait, wait a minute--" but he overcame that hurdle when his hands rubbed my reddened dick into a sensitive bar of burning ecstasy. "Ohhh, God," I moaned. He made me so horny, I was happy to do anything!
He overpowered me; he really did. He yanked his uniform pants down and pressed that giant cock against my groin as I lay back over the desk. He bent over me and kissed my mouth. His tongue dived down my throat, and I could taste the cigarettes on his breath.
He got me. He didn't rape me; he got me so hot, I responded to him. Almost automatically, my legs came up from the floor, arched into the air, and wrapped around his back. With an instinct I didn't know I had, I brought my asshole up for that big pecker.
When it nudged against my tight sphincter, I got a stab of fear, but deep inside, I knew it was what I wanted.
He drove that fuck-muscle into me with a powerful lunge. My first copulation with a man almost broke me.
I wanted to scream, but my USMC training came in handy. I choked back the yelp and gritted my teeth against the pain.
The lust of working with such a stud soon overcame the discomfort, though, and by the time he got it in to the hilt, my ass-ring seized his cock like a rifle-sling around a paratrooper's shoulder. To look at, his cock was soft-skinned and delicately veined, but what rammed up my ass was carved from Tyrannosaurus Rex bone. He fucked me like a depraved madman, wheezing, sweating, muttering wordless grunts.
And I liked it. I was as boiling-hot as he was, and his sensual assault was an action I craved. He skidded me back and forth on the desk, and I automatically reached to jog my own pecker.
The ecstasy from the stimulation in my ass and on my dick grew into an explosion from a 155 Howitzer. My whole body shook!
Colonel Danzig fucked me from the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli, and I'll be damned if we didn't cum together. He started breathing so fast, I thought he was having a heart attack, and then my grunting, uncouth colonel delivered as a tremor swept over him. His hips smacked my ass so hard, my head dropped off the far side of his desk.
My own orgasm started, and as he nailed me to the desk, I went through a storm in my balls. My ass-trench gripped his virile parade-baton like a shell-casing around a bullet, and I could only groan at the heroic drives of my wild-horse colonel. For the first time in my life, I experienced a *man!*
He fucked me at triple-speed, driving me into the sky like a flaming meteor, clutching at my shoulders to drive his jutting member even deeper into my guts. When I finally floated back into the world of the living, I brought my hand up to my face to wipe away the sweat. I glimpsed my watch, and I realized he had been fucking me for fifteen minutes!
I had been in orgasm for nearly that long! God! That shoot went down in history as the longest orgasm I ever had. He taught me all about coitus in that lesson. Colonel Danzig's discharge ran out of my ass, over my butt, and onto his desk. I didn't care. Neither did he.
When he finally dismissed me from his office (with a standing order to return twice a week), I was so full of his sperm, I shit a runny syrup for days. I couldn't get him out of my mind, and every day I had a steely hard-on just thinking about my next duty with the colonel.
I continued to meet Palmer--about twice a week, on the days I didn't go see the colonel.
Here's my question: if I was sucked off by Palmer all the time, but I got it in the ass from the colonel--who was the slut? Palmer? Colonel Danzig? Me?
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