He was as good as his word. He simply kept on ramming his big dick deep into my arse. I lost count of the times my cock spewed forth a wad of cum. Towards the end, though, my sperm factory started to lose the pace, no longer able to keep up with him. My cum was becoming weak and watery. I had to stop this before I began leaking blood or something. Gasping for breath, fighting to get the words out of my mouth, I begged him to stop. I'd got no juice left; I was running on empty. He must have understood me, as he upped his tempo, grinding into my arse really hard and fast. His breath was rasping, he was holding on to me with a grip like a vice. He bellowed, "Take this, boy!" and filled me with what seemed to be a never-ending stream of man-juice. It filled me, flooding back out of my ravaged anus, trickling down the inside of my thighs, slopping on to the floor. Sweat and tears filled my eyes. My sweat soaked hair stuck to my scalp. I twisted silently from side to side until, at last, the battering came to a halt.
I fell trembling to my knees. I felt him wipe his slimy dickhead across my face. It pushed against my dry, cum caked lips. "Wash it clean, arsehole," his voice rasped in my ear. I was past caring. When I'd done the best I could, he pulled out, reached down and took hold of me by my arm.
"C'mon, lad, time to go."
I staggered to my feet, supported by his strong arms as he cleared a way through the throng of male bodies, writhing in all kinds of sexual ecstasies, to the corridor outside. It was wonderfully cool out there and I leant against the rough, damp wall.
"You took it well in there," my latrine sergeant said. "At one time you had eight guys working you over."
All I could manage to utter in reply was a sullen, "Felt like it."
"Wanna come back to my room in the Mess and clean up a bit?"
"Yes, please," I said hopefully, "I daren't go home like this."
"OK, then, follow me."
He started down the corridor towards a fire exit. I followed and as soon as I emerged into the clean night air, all kinds of crap hit me. I almost fainted, my legs suddenly lost the power to support me and turned to jelly. My arse felt as if it had caught fire. My cock felt as if all the skin had been peeled off. My balls had started to swell, painfully. My mouth had transformed itself into the middle of a well worn unwashed jock strap.
We made it to his room in the Sergeants' Mess without encountering any inquisitive nosey parkers. As he closed and locked the door, I had a glance around. His bed was methodically made up, military style. The only clothing I could see was his uniform hanging on the wardrobe door. His gleaming parade boots were ready for the morning. There was a hand basin close to the window and on a glass shelf were his shaving tackle, shower gel, talc, toothpaste and other oddments, all systematically laid out in a row. A small bedside locker stood in the corner and on it was a small travelling alarm clock, his wristwatch and what I took to be a packet of three and a half used tube (large size) of KY. He came over to me, put his hands either side of my hips so that he could slide them round and hold my buttocks. He gently kissed me. I was stunned by this show of gentleness after the near raping he'd subjected me to.
"That's for being a great fuck." He pulled away, still looking at me. He glanced at the travelling clock. "Hell, it's almost three. I've got to get some sleep tonight; I'm taking defaulters parade at six-thirty. Get a towel from the locker, use some of that gel and get cleaned up. I do not propose going to bed with a sewer rat tonight!" For the first time in almost forty-eight hours, I managed a smile. "Thanks," was all I could think of to say. I stripped off my torn and filthy clothes which a homeless refugee would have been ashamed of. Now I could see just how foul I must be. They stank. I looked at my sergeant a little sheepishly.
"Sorry 'bout the mess."
"Couldn't be helped, lad, seeing as how you were being steadily done over like that. Don't worry about them." I opened his locker and took out a snowy white towel, picked up his shower gel. "I'll show you where the showers are."
He unlocked and opened the door to his bunk and I followed him out into the corridor. The showers were at the far end and I felt as if all the doors along that interminable walk flew open to watch a naked, unkempt civilian crawl to the shower, polluting the military perfection of their 'home' as he went by. I could almost hear the whispers as I passed by: "'ere, Bob, who's that?" "Oh, 'spect its just some bumboy picked up in town." I felt so embarrassed these hallucinations became almost real, but we made it to the shower room without incident.
"You'll have to watch out and not make too much noise," said my sergeant. "If anyone does come nosing around to see who's taking a shower at this time of night, I'll soon get rid of them."
To be continued.........