Gio

GIO

by Happenstance

WARNING: If you are offended by verbal descriptions of gay male sex; this story is not for you. Stop reading now. If under the laws of your locality this type of activity is proscribed, stop reading now. If you are under the age of 18 (or whatever is the age of consent in your jurisdiction), stop reading now. Anyone not falling into one of the above categories, enjoy. Technically, this story is a fantasy and any resemblance to any one living or dead is purely coincidental. Any resemblance to actual experiences in my own life is my business.

Copyright (c) 1997 by Happenstance. All rights reserved. You may download this story to keep on your computer, or print a hard copy if you preserve the title, warning and copyright notice. It is however my story and I do not waive any copyrights. Any legal violations brought about by ignoring the Warning notice become your responsibility.

GIO

I had been working at the joint Army-Air Force site for six months when word came around that we'd be getting some special forces guys in. I was curious what they'd be like; the regular grunts weren't too impressive to a marine-fucker like me. The airborne guys called them legs but most of them were just skinny kids not worth pumping a load into. So I kept to myself for the most part and confined my recreation to the occasional rodeo cowboy in San Antonio.

I noticed him the day he reported in to the unit. His name was Gio and he was a total asshole. He was over 250 pounds, line backer size, with dark Italian looks and hairy as a bear. His five o'clock shadow looked like you could use it for sandpaper by "Oh dark thirty" as we called six AM when we rolled in to start our duty day. He had the swagger and the mouth of a New Yorker. He was a little older than the usual Enlisted puke, and it was hard to tell if it was because he joined late or just didn't give a shit. Staff Sergeant Gio Giovaninni smoked his cigars out in the break area like he was sucking on a fat brown dick and told the pasty army boys stories of his pussy busting exploits that sounded like barely concealed rape fantasies. His war stories weren't much better. They ate it up. Most of them were following him around like puppies by his second week on station, no doubt hoping that some of his testosterone would rub off on them.

I liked the way his 20 extra pounds fit his tight uniform and the way the hair seemed to pour out over the top of his tee shirt and out from under his rolled up fatigue shirt. He wasn't some chiseled pretty boy, that's for sure. I could also tell he had some major meat hanging down in those cammies, mostly because he had that New York Italian way of checking his package that pulled your eyes right to it. He tugged at it constantly, as if he was afraid it had dropped off. When he turned sideways the silhouette of it was almost frightening. I knew he'd caught me looking, but I didn't give a shit cause his whole routine was designed to attract attention. I marked him down as a typical breeder dick head and proceeded to ignore him like the rest.

If he'd ignored me, it would have been all right. He'd noticed that I was not too impressed by his act and that didn't go over very well with his alpha male mentality. Once in a while I'd come up against one of these guys who weren't happy unless they'd put you in your place. The army seemed to attract these guys, who needed to be sure where you stood in the pecking order. He started in with the joking insults, little games of verbal one-upmanship that unfortunately he wasn't mentally equipped to win.

That just made it worse. Then he started picking at me. I think he would have liked to kick my ass, but I'm pretty big myself and since I wasn't in the same service he didn't have the chance to show me up at PT. I told him I didn't need to fucking like him, he just needed to snap to and do his job and that was it. We seemed to have a truce for a while.

We went out one night after a swing shift for some beers. Though I didn't hang with the guys that much, some of them were all right and I made a point to treat them to a couple of pitchers now and then. My NCOIC and I got along real well; I was even pretty sure he knew the score. So, when he asked me to go, I decided to skip my cowboy hunt for one night. Well, Gio saw his chance. He tried like hell to drink me under the table but I matched him beer for beer and he really didn't hold his liquor that well. If I'd been smart I'd just have let him win but my pride got in the way. When he realized I wasn't nearly as blasted as he was, he started in with the faggot cracks. I moved over chest to chest and asked him if he was saying what I thought he was saying. He snarled and said that I didn't know how to take a joke. I was steamed but I let it drop.

When it came time to leave I was the only sober driver with a spare seat in my car. Gio was so plastered that the CO took his keys and asked me to drive him home. I think Gio would have punched him out if the guy hadn't been an officer. So I ended up loading the jerk into my car to take him back to his apartment, the opposite direction from mine. It was like moving a fucking ton of dead weight and by the time I got him to his place and wrestled him up the stairs it was way past time for me to make it into San Antonio for some last minute cowboy cruising.

As I got him up the steps I'd finally had it. "Why don't you give me some help, you fucking Guido?" I snarled.

"Why don't you suck my fucking dick, man?" He bellowed, taking a swing at me.

"Don't start that shit or I'll lay you out, grunt." I bear hugged him to keep him from swinging again and we fell to the floor.

"You fags are all the same, you know you want to eat my dick. You been looking at it for months." His deep raspy voice had taken on a weird intimate quality.

As we rolled around on the floor I realized a few things. For one thing I could take him pretty easily in his condition. Two, he wasn't fighting all that hard so much as holding me against his crotch. Three, he had a raging hardon, which was pretty amazing given how drunk he was. And four, his dick was the size of my forearm. All four together had some interesting possibilities. He seemed to be making one last attempt to dominate me, using sex. I figured what the hell; I'd let him try and see where it led. If he told anyone later it was his word against mine.

One beefy hand grabbed the back of my head as he wormed the thick middle finger of the other into my mouth. "I got a present for you smart ass, and it's just what you need to stuff that hole shut, so I won't have to listen to your yap no more. Treat it right or I'll break your teeth."

I wasn't sure how much of this charming repartee was his usual pillow talk and how much he meant. If I got pissed off enough he was in for a little surprise but I wanted to see how far he'd go.

"I ain't never done this before. I'm no cock sucker." I protested, a little white lie for the "Don't ask, don't tell" boys.

"Right." He snorted. "Well, you are now. Once I've broken you in you'll get a lot of practice" He rooted around my mouth with that middle finger. "Suck on my finger, Zoomie, show me you want it." He pulled my head down to his crotch and held it tight against his fly. "Feel that bitch, once you've had it you won't be able to live without it. But that's okay, I'll see you get it -- a lot"

"Who writes his dialogue," I thought, "he sounds like a B movie gangster."

He was too drunk to work his zipper and finally ended up just tugging pants and all down around his jump boots. His thick column hit my face with an audible smack. It was every bit as big as I had suspected. Size queens say that no dick is too big, this one was a deformity. The head alone resembled a ripe peach, once the thick foreskin was pulled back. He whacked my face with it a couple of more times. "Get busy," he said. If he'd hit me any harder it would have left a bruise. I managed to work the head and a couple of inches into my mouth, I felt like my jaw had unhinged, like a snake swallowing an egg. It helped that he leaked juice like a loose faucet. It had a tangy taste and amazingly enough it smelled as if he'd just showered. I'm not the king of cocksuckers but I put ten years experience into practice. Teething on that foreskin alone was worth the price of admission. He seemed to like it because by the time my hands wandered under his tee shirt to ferret his nipples out in his chest hair; he'd forgotten to play tough guy and was just laying back.

"Hey, watch it with my nipples, I ain't no bitch," he growled as I started to roll them around.

"My girlfriend does this when she blows me, and it helps me get off," I improvised.

"Awright then," he put up a little show of tolerating it but was soon writhing and moaning as I worked his tits hard. "Oh, mannnnnn. Gawdddddd, that's so goodddddd--. Do it, you Zoomie cocksucker. Eat my fucking dick."

I hope you're not waiting to hear how I took his cock to the root, because at one point I had all I could get in my throat, and two fists around it between my lips and his pubes. He was a fucking human penis.

He cuffed me with his paw about the time my spit slick finger found its way past the fur surrounding his asshole. As I made little circles around his pucker, he bellowed, " Leave my ass alone, faggot, I ain't no rump ranger."

Well, the girl friend line had worked before. After an upstroke on his throbbing shlong, I gasped out, "My bitch does it to me, it makes me hard as a rock." Which was true enough if a six foot two bull rider named Chuck can be called a bitch.

He didn't say a word, so I abruptly slid two fingers in up to the knuckles and went for Mr. Prostate. Bingo! With a shriek that sounded like a strangled Chihuahua, his rod threw so much cum into my mouth it squirted out of my nostrils like snot. Swallowing as hard as I could I continued to work the two fingers in and out, teasing and stretching. He mumbled a long incoherent string of obscenities and continued to cum till I thought I would drown in it. Either he made the stuff by the quart or he hadn't been laid in years.

"See, I told you it works," I said when his world stopped whirling. "Hang on and I'll get you off again," I added and put three fingers to the task. With my other hand I tugged his nipples and roamed his hairy heaving chest.

I even stuck my fingers in his mouth, which he sucked feverishly overwhelmed by the sensory overload I was providing. His prong stayed hard, and he moaned and shuddered as I slid the fourth finger up his chute.

I figured it was time for stage two.

Still sucking his cock, I went for broke. Heaving his massive legs up I put the head of my crotch rocket against his landing pad and probed for entry. I don't know if he was even aware that it wasn't my fingers, he just wanted the marvelous stroking to go on. I slid in slowly to the root.

God, he was tight. Even after stretching him out with four fingers it felt like the rubber I had put on was two sizes too small. His head whipped from side to side and he kept sucking my fingers. He was like Columbus discovering a sexual New World. I settled in for a long ride. Once I knew what a fuck pig he was, I started really pounding it to him.

Then he threw me for a loop. From some old memory tape he said in a little boy voice, "When you fuck me, it's because you love me, isn't it, Daddy?" "I know I've been bad, Daddy," he whimpered around my fingers in his mouth. "Show me you love me; please Daddy, shove it in my boy pussy!"

I realized we'd crossed that thin line between scene and psychodrama, but "in for an inch, in for a foot." He wasn't the only one who could play the macho shit head. I was riding high on the feeling of my dick sliding in and out of his tight sheath. He was doing weight lifter tricks with it that made my cock feel like a cow's teat in a milking machine. I decided "what the hell" and hauled back and slapped his face. He whined and moaned some more.

"You've been a nasty little piece and Daddy's got to punish you. You have to show Daddy you've earned his dick in your nasty snatch. Show Daddy you deserve to have your pussy fucked, bitch. Suck on Daddy's dick."

Except it wasn't my dick I shoved into his gasping lips, it was his own. It was plenty long enough, but it was so thick it took some work to get it in. It stretched his thick lips taught as I drilled it in but he took a good five inches. As I fucked his ass, it pumped his rod in and out of his mouth. He began to let out deep grunts like a well-stuffed pig. Suddenly his eyes got wide as I think it finally sunk in that he was sucking on his own cock.

"Unnnnggghhhh," was all I could make out of the noises he made, as I watched gobs of cum burble out of his nose and run down his cheeks.

"Swallow, ass-wipe!" I commanded and slapped him hard. That was all it took to send me over the edge. I discharged my tubes fourteen or fifteen times deep into his overgrown bear guts.

I think I must have blacked out, because when reality came back into focus he was lying beneath me, his cock still rubbery hard and flapping in the breeze as I continued to pound his ass. "Please Daddy, more; show me you love me," he kept mumbling over and over, his eyes clamped shut.

I fucked him one more time for sheer meanness, and after that there was only one thing I could think of to do. Taking his huge member, which, since he'd cum a couple of times, was stiff but limber like fat fireman's hose, I popped the head into his fuzzy ass cunt. It took about all my strength, in spite of the work his hole had already gotten that night, just to get it past the sphincter. It finally went in with a liquid "shlurp." As I shoved about four inches in, he groaned contentedly. Something was still scratching that itch that burned inside him.

"Yessss--" he sighed, "that's it Daddy, that's what I want--" I moved his ass up against the headboard so his dick was as far in him as possible. He just groaned and writhed in pleasure. I got up and wiped my scummy cock on his rugged face, then I got my pants on.

"Been fun," I said to no one in particular as I walked toward the door. When I let myself out, I could still hear him bouncing his ass against the headboard, fucking his tree trunk in and out of his own overworked butthole and blubbering about how he loved his daddy.

When I ran into Gio on the base after that he never had much to say to me.

He continued to smoke his cigars out on the pad and fill the younger troops with a lot of shit about how much pussy he was getting. He'd still tug on his crotch in that annoying "look at me" way. But now, when I looked close, it sometimes seemed like he was pushing it rather than tugging. Maybe he wasn't lying about all the pussy he was getting after all.