In The Blockhouse
Mike Kane
Author's Note/Disclaimer: The following story depicts sex acts between men. If the reading of such material is illegal due to your location or age, please go find something more wholsesome to do. And the acts depicted herein are not safe. Since they did not take place in the real world, but sadly only in my imagination, this is not meant as an endorsement of unsafe sexual practices. It is, however, based on my fantasies about my own Drill Sergeant from my own time at Ft. Sill. For those of you who don't know, "Oosha!" is the Redleg equivelent of "Huah!". There, that made everything clear didn't it?
Ft. Sill, Oklahoma, June, 1993.
Drill Sergeant Allen was alone in the blockhouse. The only light came from the glowing cherry of his cigar stub. When I came in, he said, "About time you got here, Private."
"Pvt. Jones told me you wanted me?"
He grinned around his stogie. "That's just right, Private."
The blockhouse was about twelve by eight by eight feet in size. The walls were two layers of sandbags and the boards with more sandbags over the top made the roof. There was a window opening that looked over the hill. Inside it smelled like dust, canvas, sweat and DEET inside. The only thing inside was a platform just a little bigger than a bunk and Sgt. Allen sat on it watching me.
I stepped in front of him and stood at ease. He was wearing his PT uniform, but without the black spandex he usually wore under the revealing shorts. "What's wrong, Drill Sergeant?"
"Come kneel down between my legs."
"Drill Sergeant?"
He took a drag off the cigar. "You heard me, Private."
I licked my lips and knelt on the dirt floor. The sandy Oklahoma soil dug into my bare knees. "No, you've got to come closer than that, Private." he smiled a hungry smile at me.
I hoped he wouldn't notice my hard on, but my PT shorts wouldn't hide it. I duck walked forward until I was between his wide-spread legs.
"That's good, Private. I think you'll get this next part without a lot of instructions."
He put one hand on the back of my head and pulled it toward his groin. With the other, he pulled aside the soft gray cotton of the shorts and let his cock flop out.
It was mostly hard and already more than seven inches long. It was flared near the base, tapered to an arrow-shaped head gleaming at the tip and curved upward along its length. It was cut and jutted out from a well-trimmed thatch of brown hair.
I pushed back in surprise, but Drill Sergeant Allen held me and pulled me closer. "Don't play dumb, Private," he said. "I know you're a cocksucker."
"But-"
"How? Come on, boy. I keep track of what fifty young men are up to all the time. If I see Perrigham and Grams trying to start fights, don't you think I see the way you look at me and Sgt. Oakwell? I knew you were a cocksucker by day three."
"But I-"
"What you need to do is shut up and suck my dick, Private."
He was right, so I stopped pretending I was anything but the world's happiest cocksucker.
He pushed my head down and I opened my mouth. Sgt. Allen slid his cock into my mouth and I wrapped my lips around it. He said, "That's nice, boy," as he pushed my head further down onto his prick. I felt it get harder as my nose brushed his pubes. He didn't stop pushing until he was buried all the way, with my lips kissing his pubic bone through the thin layer of skin, muscle and fur.
"Oosha, Private! I knew I should have popped you sooner!" He kept the hand on the back of my head and grabbed the back of my neck with the other. Then he started to fuck my mouth my moving just his hips. He fucked my face just like he did road marches; not fast, but long and strong the whole way.
He spent half an hour at it. I watched him as much as I could. He kept his eyes closed and pointed up at the ceiling most of the time, but sometimes he'd look down and watch himself fuck my face. That finally made my dick so hard I couldn't keep my hands off it.
Just as I grabbed my dick, Sgt. Allen pushed me away. I sprawled in the dirt. "If you're ready to stroke your meat, you're ready for the next part," he said. "Drop them little shorts and bend yourself over here."
He got up and indicated the platform he'd been sitting on. I hesitated and Drill Sergeant Allen said, "Come on, Private, move with a purpose. Yeah, it's going to hurt, but you'll just have to suck it up and drive on, won't you? Now move that ass so I can fuck it."
I crawled onto the platform with my arms and upper body. It was too high for my knees to reach the ground and too low for me to plant my feet. It was just the right height for Sgt. Allen to stand behind me with his cock pointed at my asshole.
"I told you to get those fucking pants off, Private," he said. "Why are you having so much trouble following instructions?"
I pulled them down and let them fall when they got past my knees. The flimsy gray shorts slid down my legs to tangle around my ankles. Since PT shorts have padded support built in, I has naked underneath. Drill Sergeant Allen shucked his shorts, and so was he. "Christ, boy, you'd think you were cherry or something the way you move. Is that right? Are you cherry, boy?"
"Drill Sergeant, I don't understand Drill Sergeant!"
"Don't fuck with me boy. You know what I mean. Have you been fucked before? Or are you a virgin? I know that throat ain't cherry."
"Drill Sergeant, no, I have been fucked before, Drill Sergeant."
He slapped my ass hard. "Then stop acting like a girl on her wedding night."
I grabbed my ass with both hands and spread my cheeks for him. He laughed and gave me another hard slap. "Hot damn, you are eager. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Oakwell when he told me to wait. I could have been fucking you for weeks."
I felt something hit my back. It was a little bottle of lotion I hadn't seen before. "A real Army faggot can take a dick after a month in the field with nothing but his own spit for lube. But you're still a recruit, so we're need to be gentle."
My Drill Sergeant got a handful of lotion and said, "Don't worry, I got the perfume free kind so this is only going to sting like a son of a bitch instead of burning like a motherfucker," while he greased his dick.
He slid his thumb around my crack and forced a glob of cream into my asshole. It did sting, but before I could do more than start to take a deep breath, he pushed his cock against my sphincter. It slid in head-deep with a pop.
"God damn, son! Are you sure you ain't cherry?"
I moaned in pain and shook my head. "Drill Sergeant, only one man has ever fucked me before, Drill Sergeant."
He pushed himself deeper. "The one who writes you all those letters I'm guessing."
I nodded. He started to push forward. "Well just relax, Private. He's a civilian. Let me show you how a soldier fucks."
He grabbed my hips with both hands. He pushed his cock in just like he'd fucked my face, hard and steady, until his hips dug into my cheeks. "The Army might not penetrate as fast as some other services," Drill Sergeant Allen told me, "but we stay until the job's done right, top to bottom." He started to draw back out. "They call us ground pounders because we'll march over the same ground a thousand times if we have to." He started to push forward again, a little faster this time. "And ground ain't all we pound."
His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to leave bruises and he started to fuck me with deep strokes. Now that it was as hard as it got, his dick had to be at least eight inches and I could feel every millimeter as it pounded into me again and again. He got faster as he went until he was slamming against my ass with every stroke and plowing into my prostate each time. grip on my hips tightened and he shifted to a faster speed. He slammed against my ass hard and found my prostate with almost every stroke.
Then he sang me a little cadence to the rhythm of his rams:
"Hey cocksucker stick your ass in the air
If you want your Drill Sergeant deep in there
I'm going to fuck you all night long
And you'll spend next week walking wrong."
By the third verse, I felt a tingle growing at the base of my dick. "Drill Sergeant, you're making me cum Drill Sergeant."
"You think you're telling me something I don't know, Private. I got my cock in you so deep I can feel your teeth, I can feel you tightening up. You like getting fucked by me so much you're going to cum without even touching yourself, queer- boy?"
"Oh, oh god! Yes, Drill Sergeant. I'm shooting. Oh fuck, I'm shooting right now!" Then I couldn't talk anymore. I could only buck and thrash as I came for the first time in five weeks.
Drill Sergeant Allen rammed himself in harder than ever and filled my ass with a hot load of cum that felt like it would have filled a canteen. He collapsed on top of me, our matching ARMY tee shirts soaked with sweat.
"God damn, son, I should have busted your ass a month ago."
"Drill Sergeant, yes, Drill Sergeant."
After a few seconds he stood up and pulled his dick out. "All right, Private, roll over."
I turned onto my back. The height of the platform made my legs hang at an awkward angle. "Get those legs up in the air," he said, slapping his still hard dick against his greasy hand.
I was as tired as I'd been after the fifteen kilometer road march and my legs felt even weaker. "What?"
He grabbed my ankles and said, "You heard my jody. I'm going to fuck you all night long. I've only got a week left and I'm going to have to fuck you into the ground to make up for all the chances I missed."
When he slid back in, he wasn't gentle anymore.