Here I was, Parris Island. Thirteen weeks of hell that would grind the esprit de corps into you. I had graduated high school and had enough credits so that I would be entering as an E2, a private first class. The first day of intake is a blur that washes past you. Shouted off the bus, you stand on the yellow footprints that countless before you have stood. Some have gone off to all sorts of life, others made the ultimate sacrifice.

A brief description of how to stand at attention was given. Instructors barked out the difference between civilian law and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. The mood for the first night was intense and set the bar for the remainder of the training.

We were brought from station to station, having to make a call to someone first. If you had no one, and I now had no one, you would call your recruiter and repeat the words listed above the phone like everyone else, including shouting an awkward “I love you” before hanging up the phone. We were separated into sexes, and the haircuts began.

“Any cuts, moles, or lumps I should be aware of,” the old barber repeated just as he had to everyone before.

“No, sir!”

I had allowed my hair to grow out over the last summer and the guardless blade dragged across my head. It was sharp, but my hair was thick. Some hairs were ripped rather than cut. My head was now much lighter and colder than it had been before I stood in line waiting to receive all the shots I would be required to have. At the end of the line, my arm felt like a football team had walked past me at the end of the game, each punching me on the upper arm in a show of sportsmanship.

We were sat down and greeted by what would be our drill instructors for the next thirteen weeks. They shouted out their responsibilities to turn us from recruits into Marines. Each of us stared up at them, intimidated by what was to come, but in admiration too of what we would become.

The weeks went by and the instructors drilled into us the USMC mindset, discipline, and intensive physical training. Recruits received letters from home and would read over them during the little free time we would be given at the end of the day. I had no letters as I had told no one where I was going. By now someone had likely filed a police report that I was missing. I hoped that the voicemail I had left would keep the trail cold if anyone was questioned following the report being filed. You were one of the last people I had spoken to, and I realized now what the signs looked like.

The day of graduation came, and I scanned the crowd to make sure no one had somehow tracked me down and would be waiting to ambush me. No one was there. The ceremonies and drills commenced. At the end of it all, I packed up my belongings. Since I had entered as an E2, I was eligible to be promoted to E3 a lance corporal. This was not common, but possible if you had college credits and finished boot camp as a platoon guide which I had fulfilled. My mind was set only on what I was becoming, undistracted by thoughts of home or family.

We were required to take ten days off after graduating from boot camp. Wanting my new life to be completely severed I did not return home. I found a KOA campground not far from where my training school was going to be and stayed there enjoying the stars, the campfire, and the food I was forbidden to eat during training. I had managed to obtain some Moxie, and a package of red hotdogs, something no one outside of New England would even believe exists.

I arrived at the school of infantry. All Marines are first and foremost, Riflemen. If you had signed a contract for something other than infantry, you would spend twenty-eight days here gathering proficiency and accuracy with firearms. If you had signed an infantry contract, you would remain here for fifty-nine days. I had easily passed the ASVAB with a score that my recruiter shook his head at.

“You can do whatever you want, provided it’s available.”

I had gone over all the different jobs. I was already smart but that bored me. I wanted excitement, and I didn’t want to go home, so in my tradition, I thought to myself fuck it and signed a contract to become an 0331, a machine gunner.

The training was as grueling as boot camp however lacking the respect, I thought I would get as a newly minted Marine. They quickly reminded us that we were at the very bottom of the totem pole and lessons in true respect were learned early.

After graduation, I was assigned to my first platoon. We would train constantly and do workups for an upcoming deployment. I was foolish and, in my mind, I was excited looking forward to “being there, man” and “seeing some things.” These were inappropriate motivations, the worst, however, being the morbid thought that maybe I wouldn’t have to come home. I wouldn’t have to face the consequences of running away. Like Peter Pan, perhaps, I would never grow old.

My first deployment came and went. It was a boring one, fortunately. However, the stories that I had heard from the older and more experienced men quickly dispelled my folly. Returning home, I held onto my leave for as long as possible, having no family to return to.

At the base, my roommate was droning on about his conquests. This was the military, and we were Marines. The ugliest square-jawed farm boy all dressed up would seem the catch to any girl, especially around the local towns. I had tuned out while he was in the middle of some story regarding his latest pickup.

“And then I realized I was in the wrong hole… the front one!”

I had worked on a few fake laughs and pulled out one I thought was appropriate.

“Hey, let’s get out of here and hit the town,” he said.

It was Friday and we had been granted permission to leave the base. My roommate had a girlfriend on the side and decided to pick her up first, provided I keep things hush about his experiences.

She was a pretty little thing. Short but with long black hair. A lot of girls had been taking to shorter haircuts and in an act of rebellion, she had grown hers out even longer. She wore shorts and converse and one of those long shirts with cutoff arms.

“Hey, boys!”

“Hey,” we each said back.

We decided to make our way to the local club. The E4 mafia worked their connections for all the younger Marines. Many of them had skills in various areas throughout the corps. Some had access to some machines that would allow us to get into whatever trouble we wanted.

With our fake IDs, we headed to the bar. These were no fake IDs we had bought from craigslist when I was seventeen trying to get into bars. This was something made by a military professional. Someone who was in administration and worked on these kinds of things.

John passed them around and we got in line, eventually making it in after revealing we were in the military. So many people liked to bend over backward and who were we not to take advantage? In the club, John’s eyes kept wandering to various girls. His girlfriend Janet would notice this and after an hour was fuming mad. She stomped out and John hadn’t noticed.

I hadn’t buried all my feelings at this point yet and felt bad for her. I knew cheating and it was an awful thing.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, he’s just an idiot. I know he has girls on the side, I’m not stupid. I don’t know, maybe I am stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, you’re young just like we are. This is the time to make some mistakes.” I steadied myself. I was going to be assertive and do whatever it was I wanted. “We can make a mistake right now in fact…”

I leaned in and kissed her. She pulled back, shocked at my behavior, and slapped me on the cheek.

“Is that a no?” I stared at her, pulling off my best Marlon Brando. I was pushing things as far as I could.

The bullshit seemed to work because her eyes softened.

“You know what. Fuck it, he’s cheating. Why can’t I?”

She leaned back, wrapping her arms around my neck and flicked her tongue into my mouth. Her left hand ran up and down through the back of my hair, her fingers playfully wiggling through what little I could have due to uniform regulations. I could hear the slight scratching noise it made. Her right hand slid off the back of my shoulder and slid it’s way down my chest. Her hand planted itself firmly and proudly to the front of my pants. She squeezed it, pumping it in her hands every few seconds.

We made out against a streetlight. I think she was hoping he would come out. After a solid twenty minutes of him not wondering where his girlfriend was, I got a cab and we made our way back to her house. The door opened and she started throwing her clothes everywhere.

I threw her onto the couch. I wasn’t going to bother with a bed with her. I looked at her, undoing my belt and thought to myself if I was going to be something new. I was going to be whatever I wanted.

“This isn’t going anywhere. I’ll fuck you, but after that, I’m leaving, and we aren’t a thing. You understand?”

She smirked and nodded her head.

“Hey, at least I’ll know I fucked his friend before breaking up with him.”

My clothes now off, I joined her on the couch. I lined myself up, pushing into her roughly. She let out a gasp, as she wasn’t ready for this fast action. She dug into my back with her nails, drawing lines all over. I lifted her, making her grind herself against me. She came, and I was starting to get close and decided to again do what I wanted.

I pulled out and took off my condom.

“Get on your knees, slut.” I looked at her, hoping she would understand this was all for the fun of playing.

She bit her lower lips and obeyed, placing her hands on my thighs and bracing herself. Her eyes were intense with thoughts of revenge on her mind. I knew I was clean, but for her, this must have been a thrill. I know it would be for me.

I placed my hand on the top of her head, gripping her hair which she had put into a tight bun on top of her head. She followed my urging and tilted her head back. She opened her mouth as wide as her eyes and waited.

I came, sending splashes of hot cum all over her face. I had been bottled up and this was my first time having sex since… No, I wasn’t even going to think about that life anymore. This was my first time having sex in a long time, that's it.

She leaned back and rested against the couch, her legs kicking out in front of her. I stepped back and gathered my clothes wordlessly. I put them on, turning to give her one more look. She had put on her panties and was sitting now on the couch posing her a selfie with the cum still on her face. She was going to break up with dynamite. He probably couldn’t care any less, but I also didn’t care if he cared. I turned and left as she finished her picture, wiping her face onto a towel and lighting a cigarette.

It had now been two years. I had been promoted from E3 to E4 as soon as my time in service and grade requirements had been met. The same happened from E4 to E5. I was getting into the groove of things. The military had a pace to it, like clockwork. It was demanding but it kept me in straight. As time passed, I continued working my way through the locals and the various members of other branches of the service that were on base. I avoided the Marines as much as possible. I didn’t need that kind of drama in my life.

I was now able to live off base and had chosen an apartment. I was given money for housing and was able to place every penny of it into savings thanks to the arrangement I had made with the landlords. Greg, the landlord was older. He wasn’t OLD by any means, being only fifty-two. His wife was thirteen years his junior. At thirty-nine, she was still gorgeous. She had a few lines on her face, and her skin was starting to show some weathering from her tanning, but beyond those minor flaws; she was perfection embodied.

The arrangement was simple. Greg wanted help around the house, and with my ability to learn quickly, I was able to do whatever he requested generally. Installing cabinetry, fixing minor electrical issues, and working on the car. I took care of the lawn maintenance, shorts, and an A-shirt being my uniform the Pearson’s had selected. They liked to watch whenever I did manual labor for them. Greg would massage away at his wife Emily who would stare as the sweat popped from my pores.

Greg had a personal issue. He had been stricken with impotence and with his blood pressure, medication was not a viable option. He was able to get there himself, but Emily was struggling which put their marriage into a bad place. They had worked through sexual therapy and a mutual deal was struck between the two. He would allow her partners so that she could get what she needed, and he would occasionally watch. He enjoyed playing with the power dynamic sometimes, which would grant him the occasional boner hard enough to join in on the games.

Their emotional bond was beautiful. I could see they really had something with one another and was respectful of the situation. I was clean, something they were worried about. They were looking for a regular partner and through happenstance, I bumped into them at the right time.

His wife was incredible. She would give you a show whenever you did well but was unafraid to give critique when the performance was subpar. She had a bit of a power kink herself, enjoying tying me up and going to town on me with her various pink tools that she kept stashed in a leather suitcase.

On this evening, I was tied to the bed with satin ribbons attached to each post. I could have ripped free any second, choosing to play along with her. This new kink provided the fuel I needed to match her pace. She was nearing the end of her dirty thirties, but the hormones were still going strong.

She reached into her bag, spreading her various tools out on a fold-out table that she kept stored in the closet. She moved her hand along on top of each, pausing to select any that I had flinched at. She playfully whipped me with a leather crop, leaving little pink marks all over my body marking her property. When these games were on that was what I was. Property of the Pearson’s.

Her husband sat on a dining room chair down to his tighty whities. His feet and arms bound to the chair itself with soft white cord. In his mouth was a gag, and his eyes were trained on us. He would nod along to some of the tools she would select.

For the first time, her thin fingers grasped around a long red candle that she had set aside special. She flicked her Bic and lit the wick, allowing the heat to melt the candle.

I had been mostly silent through the game, this, however, snapped me out of it.

“Pineapple!”

Immediately her mood changed and she was back to the nice landlord's wife that I had known her as.

“What’s wrong,” she asked.

“No fire play.”

She looked at me. I had a small scar to the left of my eye that I had gotten on my second deployment. It was a stupid scar gotten from stupid shrapnel from a stupid IED. No one was killed, and I was fortunate that it grazed me rather than landing in the eye itself. Looking further down, she examined the other scars.

A look spread across her face that made me sick. It was a look no one had given me for a few years. Pity.

“Pity me, and I’ll rip out of these binds and spank you.”

I was trying to lighten the mood. Sensing I didn’t want to talk about it, Emily morphed back into play mode.

She walked over to her husband, cocking an eye at me with the candle. I nodded, thinking to myself that if it was him getting the hot wax and not me, that was fine by me.

While she gave him the painful attention that he begged for, neither noticed me slip from my bonds. I slipped on the floor quietly, Greg spotting me but keeping quiet. I grabbed the crop and flicked it across Emily's ass as hard as she would do for me. She let out a surprised, "oh," as I quickly grabbed her hand pulling her head back as she looked at me with those bedroom eyes I craved. No pity, just punishment.

I directed her to grab her husband. I maintained my grip on her hair as she untied him, feigning little painful gasps. I wanted everything sexually but the kitchen sink, but, by god, I was going to incorporate the sink. We formed a train, me the conductor dragging Emily playfully, Greg attached to her hand by the hair as well making our way to the kitchen. The windows were wide but it was bright outside and no one could see as far as I thought.

Pushing Emily forward, I turned on the cold water, drops of condensation forming on the tap. She lifted her husband and put the top of his head under the icy water. He moaned at this new form of punishment as I pushed him as close to the counter as he could. I lined Emily up so that she was bending forward leaning over her husband. My vice grip tightened around Greg's wrist as I placed them on the two taps and made him grip them while the water continued to pour. I grabbed Emily's hands and placed them over Gregs. 

Lining myself behind Emily, I started to tease her slit from behind.

"Whenever he gets comfy, or tenses up, change the temperature."

This was a new game that they both gleefully took to. I started to pound away at Emily, her breasts mushed into her husbands back, teasing the water back and forth alternating between hot and cold. I pounded away at her, willing myself to extend the time inside of her, her punishment for pitying me.

I pulled out moving Emily to the right Greg gripping at the handles like a good boy as I jerked off, coming onto his ass cheeks.

We finished the evening and I cleaned things up.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” I snapped back at her.

“You… I know this is probably crossing a line here, but it took my husband a year to admit he needed help. It took him another seven months to finally go to a therapist. It’s okay to need help. I’ll leave you be.”

She walked off. She was well-intentioned, but I didn’t need help.

During this time, the stress was starting to have an impact on my body. I had taken up drinking and, doing research, found a way to consume alcohol that wouldn’t leave any smell on my breath. I carefully measured my doses like medicine, ensuring I would never be drunk, only warm and buzzing.

During the weekends, I would not drink entirely, making sure my body didn’t grow too accustomed to the alcohol and stop working. This helped for a while, but the stress found it’s way back.

I began to create a strict routine.

Monday: I would go to a local bar and spend time with a few friends I had made. Some were other service branch members, some locals from the town. I could make up whatever story I wanted, and the story of how I got my eye scar was a legend to be sung in the halls of Valhalla as far as I had them convinced. The other service members I would whisper the real story to.

Tuesday: A trip to one of the twelve strip clubs within driving distance. I was careful with my money and was able to go wild within reason every week. The girls slowly became used to seeing me, eventually greeting me by name. One told me her real name and we chatted about what she was doing after college.

Wednesday: Sex club. I was a member of a few clubs. For Wednesday evenings, I would attend a themed sex club. They provided costumes, changing the theme from week to week. One day, you’d be lifting a roman skirt over an ass that was bent over for you, another day you’d be pirates. There was endless amounts of pussy here. Most sex clubs frowned upon bisexual or homosexual activity and this was one of those clubs. They made it clear that it was okay with them, but nothing they wanted in their club. Hypocritically, the bartenders were lovelies, drag beauties in risqué uniform, handing out drinks and towels. Such a tease.

Thursdays: Get my ass handed to me in a BDSM dungeon. Bar with the guys after and occasionally some other activity out on the town subbing in.

Fridays: A more accepting sex club. There was a buffet. Women with men, men with men, women with women, some in large piles just doing it all. Each club had strict testing policies, and everything was done to standard.

Weekends: I would fill with my home duties, giving extra attention to Emily, more than I would during my weeknights after returning from my activities.

I had been messaging back and forth with a gentleman on one of my apps deciding to use my alternate day instead of going to the club as usual. He was forty-four, recently divorced after coming out as gay. We chatted about his experience, what it was like growing up, how and when he knew. He had known he was gay when he was in college, never acting on it choosing to bury those feelings down eventually marrying a woman and having two children. They were each in their later teens, going through a private school. His wife had been pleasant about the entire thing, remaining friends as they had built a life together. He stayed in an apartment they had built onto the side of the house, converting the garage into a nice two-floor.

He was bewitching. I had looked at his measurements and looking at his picture it was hard to reconcile. He was six foot nine, two hundred sixty-eight pounds. He had kept his head shaven, applying a butter to it that made him glisten. He had no wrinkles, the only age on his face being the softer skin around the thick vein on his temple. He looked like a djinn that had been born of primordial energy standing firm ready to grant my wishes. His umber skin stretched tight across his rippling muscles. He had his career already, and once he accepted his new life he took a job as a bouncer for something to do while he explored this side of himself. He looked the part, every bit of him intimidating. His arms and chest looked like steel cords, his belly, however, stuck out a little, the one sign of age he couldn’t shake from overindulging with the slower metabolism that comes with your forties.

We messaged back and forth about what we were each interested in. I hadn’t had good rough sex in a long time and was craving the punishing experience. He mentioned his cock was something special and I teased that he would have to prove it. He laid out what his fantasy was. It was something he wanted to try once, being into some humiliation play and wanting to dom. I was unsure as I read the script that he had written but agreed to it after multiple reassurances.

I stood at the door and took a deep breath, preparing myself. I had read the script and rehearsed what he wanted in my mind. I shook my head and I thought I was ready.

I pounded on his door as hard as I could, it’s hinges shaking against the force I applied. He opened it, glaring at me with a mean face.

“And who the fuck are you?”

His voice was a rich baritone that shook the air. I could feel it in my chest. He had a Philadelphia accent which made me stifle a laugh because he moved to California as a teen like Fresh Prince.

“I think I’ll ask the questions, and what I want to know is what the fuck is…” I trailed off looking down.

“Purple Rain.”

I said the safe word.

“What’s wrong,” his voice took on a sweeter tone. He sounded almost like Ving Rhames, reassuring and compassionate.

“I just… Are you sure this is what you want? I mean I’m into some rough fantasies but…”

“Hey. You’re a grown ass man. I’m a grown ass man. You clicked on my name and messaged me. I told you what I wanted. If I was going to be upset, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this.”

“Okay, just… Are you SURE?”

He put a finger under my chin, and I looked up at him, “I’m SURE. Let’s start over.”

He closed the door and I stood in front of it again. I took a deep breath in and pounded on the door again. His ex and kids were out of town and the neighbors kept to themselves.

He opened the door, “And who the fuck are you?” He asked it with the same sincerity as he had the first time. He would have been an incredible actor.

“I think I’ll ask the questions, and what I want to know is what is a n- doing in my neighborhood?” I almost vomited when I said the word.

I cringed, quickly correcting my face to make myself look mean like he had asked. I stared him down and he ran his tongue along his teeth making sucking noises through them. He inhaled deeply from his belly and I closed my eyes in anticipation.

He spat, and it hit my face with so much force I thought he flicked me.

I opened my eyes and put on my best shocked/scared face like he had so nicely asked me to do.

“Oh yeah, little white bitch?” He walked forwards intimidatingly. I had knocked on the back door so that we would have the privacy of his fenced-in yard. I started to hunch forward and pretended to be scared, shivering lightly.

“Well, you know what I think. I think you’re jealous of my big black cock. White bitch,” he elongated the word bitch, getting an inch from my face.

He reached down, grabbing at his junk in a vulgar display, shaking it up and down.

“Why don’t you put up, or shut the fuck up like the little bitch you are?”

I shook in place looking up at him with big scared eyes. “What are you going to do to me if it is bigger than mine?”

He leaned in closer flaring his nostrils and smelling me. He smiled for a moment betraying the act he was putting on far too well. Snapping out of it he looked back at me menacingly.

“I’m going to fuck you raw like the little. White. Bitch. You are.”

He leaned his hands down, unsnapping the button of his jeans and lowering the zipper. He pulled out his cock and he was right. It was something you just had to see. It wasn’t overly long. He was a half an inch longer than me and uncircumcised, standing at seven inches. What was amazing was the thickness of it. It looked like I was staring down the barrel of a domed monster energy drink can.

My eyes bulged in reaction to this, and I almost forgot myself snapping out and going back to pretending to be afraid of this tall African warrior.

I made my hands tremble as I reached towards my belt, undoing it. He reached out and ripped it out of its loops.

“White bitch…”

I reached towards the button and he slapped my hands away undoing the button. I made my hands shake a bit more and reached for the zipper pulling it down. I pulled my dick out which was now a throbbing shade of red, pulsating up and down.

He stepped in closer, placing his dick on top of mine.

“Hmm, looks like you know what’s going to happen next…”

He grabbed my hair. I had my hair grown as long as the military allowed, and he was just able to grip ahold of it. Surrendering to his powerful hands, he tilted my head to the side. Forgetting myself, I bit my lower lip and let out a soft moan as I closed my eyes.

They snapped open and I looked at him, putting back on the look of a scared little deer that was about to get plowed by an eighteen-wheeler.

He dragged me by the hair into his home and threw me to the floor.

“Come here,” he commanded with a boom.

I crawled my way over on hands and knees.

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes, yes I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry WHAT?”

“Sorry… sir.”

He looked down at me and smirked, nodding his head.

“That’s right, sir.”

His cock was standing tall, dangling inches from my face.

“Well, you’re going to be sorry at the end of this.”

His hand gripped my hair and started to nudge it towards his erection. I feigned fighting back, trying to keep my head away and pursing my lips. I shook my head side to side whispering, nuh-uh, no no, please.

An inch away, I stopped resisting, looking up at him and bulging my eyes before closing them letting him take control and shove his cock into my mouth. I was barely able to put the first three inches in because of how thick it was. I opened my jaw as hard as I could, and it felt like pop rocks were going off in the corners of my mouth.

He pushed harder and another two inches found their way into my throat. I kept my lips open and he pushed his cock in and out making this humming, wet, choking noise that he liked.

“Yeah, that’s right, now you’re going to keep those thin lips shut or I’m going to shove this cock right back in there.”

He kept his firm grip on my hair and started walking towards the stairs. I half stood, walking in a sort of hunched over bent knee drag. He liked how I looked apparently, pulling me forward and slapping my ass before continuing, dragging me by the hair up the stairs.

He threw me onto the bed, releasing my hair. He threw his clothes off standing naked and looking like a grizzly bear. He trimmed his pubic hair down to what looked like only a few weeks of growth, and neatly lined so that there were no strays outside of his circular bush.

I was on fire now and it was getting hard to pretend to be scared of this loving giant. I put my hands above my head and looked at him.

“Oh nooooo,” I said teasingly.

He grabbed my ankles and dragged me to the edge of the bed so that my butt was only half on the bed my lower back holding most of the weight.

He ripped off my pants, leaving my shirt on and flipping me over roughly. His bed was tall, and my toes just barely touched the floor, pushing myself up as though I was wearing high heels.

He slapped my ass hard and an angry red color began to spread across my cheeks. Rubbing his cock between my cheeks, he pushed on my hole and worked himself in. I let out a gasp and bit down onto his sheet letting out a slow grumbling moan. I reached my hands out and stretched my fingers out like a star slowly grasping his sheets and dragging them towards me.

He shoved it in, and it felt like he was tearing me open. He hit my prostate immediately and I moved my ass around in little circles against him. He pulled out and started roughly shoving it back in, his huge balls slapping into me, his body making clapping noises against my ass.

He wanted me to pretend I didn’t like it, which was really hard to do. I kept biting into the sheets and groaning into them in time with each thrust.

He reached out and grabbed my wrists firmly pulling them from their grasp of the sheets and folding them behind my back. He wrapped his hand around them and put the other one back onto my hair in a vice grip, pushing my head slightly to the side so that he could see me biting into the sheet.

My face was red and sweat was starting to break out across my forehead, back, and chest.

He started breathing deeply, letting out these loud groans. With a few resolute thrusts, he held it in deeply one last time, pulling his cock out and rubbing it up and down through my cheeks until I could feel raindrops of white, hot cum hit my lower back. He took a towel that he had set aside and cleaned me up, pulling out slowly.

That. Was. Amazing!

I turned over on the bed so that I was on my back, my feet still barely touching the ground as I leaned up onto my elbows.

“Hey, so about that word I really really…”

He cut me off, placing his index finger to my lips “Hey it’s a fantasy. I asked for it. It’s on my list and I wanted to do it at least once. It’s just a domination thing. I know you don’t mean it, obviously. If you did, we wouldn’t have done all that.”

This reassured me and I relaxed. I opened my mouth and sucked on his fingertip. He lowered himself to his knees and took my throbbing cock into his mouth. I was on the edge as it was so it wouldn’t take long. He took the entire thing in his mouth in one motion, firmly sucking up and down on it, his arm so long that it was able to reach my mouth and I was able to continue sucking on his finger until I came into his mouth.

“Hmm… not quite what I thought that was going to taste like…”

“Oh, sorry I just thought you had done it before the way you were going.”

“No, it’s fine I wanted to try. I’ve only been with a few men since the divorce and it was another check off the list.”

He invited me to stay for a bit and ordered a pizza. We put on the football game and sat back eating away.

He turned to me and we made small talk.

“My son is getting pretty close to graduation. He wants to join the military. Any advice that I could give him?”

A look of cringe briefly spread across my face that he caught. I put it away, but he got what the look was about. I hadn’t thought about it, but he was closer to my dad’s age and I was closer to his son’s age than we were each other’s.

I mumbled through some advice about the different services and emphasized that the Marines were the hardest mother fuckers on the planet. Then I corrected myself and said if he had a good head on his shoulders and aspirations for the future that he should join the air force.

I stayed snuggled up by his side, running my leg up and down his. He wasn’t ready for a relationship but said he had missed the intimate touch. I placed a hand on his chest and placed my head on his should, pushing my nose to his neck and breathing in his cologne deeply. I stayed with him for a few hours, then made my way back to my apartment for some well-deserved sleep.

The next night, I walked into the club, removing my clothing and placing it aside. Wading through the sea of sex, I looked around trying to spot someone fresh. I looked over and noticed the door open and in walk someone in full uniform. I narrowed my eyes. It was a Marine. You were not allowed to leave the base in uniform, least of all show up at a sex club in one. This would get a regular Marine in hot water, but as I peered, I spied the bars. This was an officer. A young-faced looking one too. I was only twenty-three, but with all the things I had already seen, it aged me.

He looked like he was twenty-two. This was probably his first assignment. He was green and I wanted to have some fun.

“Now, soldier,” something you don’t call a Marine, “what are you doing in uniform off base?” I had grown a mustache at this point, and it made my face hard to read. I narrowed my eyes and by the look he was giving me, he looked ready to shit his pants.

He looked back and saw the haircut and the way I was standing and figured I was military. He looked nervous.

“Hey, man, look this is the weekend and I’m just starting out here…”

I cut him off, “No excuse, soldier, now what am I going to do about this? Here you are a lowly lieutenant, you could be looking at a miserable next several years, son, you understand that?”

He stared back nervously.

I got down on my knees and looked up at him.

“Now what am I going to do indeed…”

He relaxed a bit, realizing the game I was playing with him. He reached his hands down unzipping and pulling out his growing erection. He was a solid six inches and I was ready for some more dick. I pulled him into my mouth, sucking on it slowly. He let out a soft moan, placing his hand on my head and pushing it with urgency.

I pulled off and dragged him to the couch, looking over at someone I had played with in the past and urging her to come over. She was an ebony-skinned beauty, flawless in every way. She looked and acted like royalty, walking over to us with a confidence that would shake any man.

She stood down between us looking left and right.

“Well, hello, boys.”

I reached over, lightly brushing her cheek.

“Hello there, Skye. I was thinking maybe the three of us rock this couch for a while?”

She smiled and looked over to the officer, leaning down and taking him into her mouth. I leaned towards her ass that was now arched into the air, burying my mouth in her perfect valley.

We kept at this until we started to get close, switching out who was doing what and delaying the moment. She climaxed while we each went down on her, our tongues bumping into each other. She got on her knees, stroking us. With a puff of her lips, making a motion like a mouth getting ready to surround a cock while simultaneously blowing a kiss she had us both. She closed her eyes and let the cum wash over her face. Was this her secret to flawless skin. I certainly didn’t mind trying it if it were.

The three of us looked over and saw that a crowd was beginning to draw around a bed in the corner. We stood up and walked over to see what was going on. On the bed was what looked like a pair of near-identical twins making out, each in various states of undress, one sock off, one dangling halfway. He was lifting her shirt up to give the crowd a peek of what was to come. They were actually a couple, entirely unrelated, their looks incidentally being very close to each other. This was a fun taboo they enjoyed playing into, dressing alike and talking like family when at the club with a wink and a nod from everyone to play along, enjoying the debauchery of the idea.

They looked out and saw Skye and me standing next to each other. They beckoned us towards the bed and we listened to their siren song crawling into bed with them. I took the brother and Skye took the sister, each of us offering our mouths up in service. We had helped them to finish undressing, their glistening bodies exposed to the crowd. The crowd that had gathered offered up some interesting dirty talk to encourage the "twins" continued behavior as they made out while we ate out. We switched places and I kept going until the juices flowed into my mouth. Skye opened her mouth catching all the cum, swallowing it smoothly.

I got dressed, making my way back to my apartment where Emily was waiting for round two. Her husband wanted to do some humiliation play, so he had me come in and roughly tie him down to the bed. I bent his wife over so that her face was inches from his cock. I lubed myself up with warming gel and began to run it up and down.

“Oh!” she shouted.

“I’m going to pop your wife’s ass cherry tonight.”

She gave her husband a feigned look of shock as I pushed it in. She groaned as though she was taking the largest pole in the world. I appreciated that.

She started dirty talking to her husband.

“Oh god, baby, his cock is so huge!

Oh, you’ve NEVER been able to fuck me like this!

Look at that pathetic cock!”

I was getting into this dirty talk and decided I wanted to join in. I grabbed Emily by her ponytail that she had put her hair into.

“Yeah, his cock is small isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is, baby!”

“Well, you’re going to suck that little cock like a good slut!”

I shoved her face down. Greg was at a medium hardness but was slowly getting more aroused at this dirty talk. He moaned, some spittle dripping down his gag.

I started bucking faster, pushing deep into her ass and making her bob her head roughly against her husband. He came quickly and she swallowed it.

“Can’t even last more than a minute, pathetic,” she winked at her husband who was eating this up.

I maintained my grasp on her ponytail pulling her head back. She was looking up, her body laying lengthwise towards her husband her back at a slight arch her head cranked as high up as it could be.

“Oh oh oh oh oh fuuuuuuck,” she screamed as I continued to drill into her ass.

I slowed down my pace and you could hear my balls slapping against her. With three last slow thrusts, I started coming into her ass, she was so tight that as my cock spasmed some was already oozing out from behind her.

She crawled forward and I dropped out of her as she pulled the gag off her husband.

“Now your turn, puss,” she said as she turned around, shoving her ass into Greg’s face.

He started to lick, pulling some cum into his mouth as he licked around her hole.

“Yeah, I’m your little bitch,” he would say between licks.

After we were all satisfied, I exited for my shower. Taking my time, I washed everything off myself and felt for the first time… Numb. I could feel the water, of course, hot and cold, but I couldn’t feel anything. No slight pang of guilt from what I had done. No pride. No desire to do it again. I felt empty. The few sexual partners I had amassed so far were meaningless to me now and a single tear fell from my eye. I touched it and laughed. I was as amused as I could feel. I hadn’t cried in years.

I was starting to get manic. I was in my last year of service, having only three months left to finish when I made a mistake.

I knew when they would “randomly” test us and the few times I was caught unaware, I drank enough water to obtain inconclusive results. This time was different, however. I was ushered into the room and did my business.

The test results came back and my commanding officers were left unsure of what to do with me. I was considering signing a new contract and was on my way to be a Staff Sergeant. I had always done everything above board and had gotten beyond expected results from my men, bullshitting for some of them to make myself look better. Yet here I was now and from the test results, it was clear. Nothing too sordid, however, a minor amount of pot and enough alcohol that there was no way I had only been drinking the night prior.

It was weeks of back and forth before I was given the opportunity to voluntarily separate from the service early. This was offered with the understanding that they would press the issue as far as they could if I didn’t sign. I signed and found myself with an honorable discharge against all odds. I was lucky.

Weeks went by and my belly started to extend with the beer. My schedule was now erratic. I was visiting the sex club far too often, getting kicked out of the one after propositioning an obviously closeted voyeur sitting along the edge of the room. As soon as we were spotted, we were politely asked to not return.

My drinking became heavier and the pain medication I had obtained for residual pain from the IED had been carefully stockpiled and saved.

What finally broke was Emily. We were in bed, going at it. As usual, her husband was out in the garage working on his woodworking project. We were going at it rough when I felt something strange. I had never felt this before. Something was off. Wrong.

“Uhh, Greg are you subbing out for Charles?”

Ouch.

“No, I Uhm. I seem to be having an issue here.”

We stopped and she snapped out of her chemical high.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just… It’s not working. I can’t.”

“Oh… Hey, it’s okay. There is nothing wrong with that. Clearly, I mean I love my husband and he has the same issue. Talk to him, he may be able to help.”

We chatted and he urged me to consider a sex therapist. I kept shaking my head and making excuses for how I had no time. He said the medication was an option, he was only unable to take it due to blood pressure issues.

I had lived a fairly spartan lifestyle, eschewing all but necessary furniture. The scene around me now was a mess of beer bottles and trash.

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the extra pounds.

What happened to me? What brought me to this point? I shook my head at myself, judging myself harshly.

I cleaned up the room in a hurry, throwing nearly everything away. I knew what I needed to do. I took a long shower, cleansing my body. I came back to my room and sat with a towel wrapped around myself on the floor with my legs crossed.

I took the case next to me and opened it, pulling out my noise-canceling headphones. An item I felt I needed. I pulled up my phone and looked through my playlists looking for the right song for what I was trying to accomplish.

What I needed was to break. Like a broken bone that had healed incorrectly, this could be the only way to fix myself. I would break through and get the help I needed.

I looked at the song, my thumb hovering above it ready to press play.

I pressed my thumb down and heard the opening chords of the piano play.

It was the Ascent of Stan by Ben Folds. I don’t know why it felt appropriate, but it did. As the lyrics filled my ears, I felt it happen. I felt that numbness lift and the tears started to flow. My lower chin was shaking, my lips trembling.

Here was the release I needed. The tears flowed and I knew what I had to do next. The drugs I would flush along with the alcohol. Not another drop so long as I had an issue. I sent an email to my doctor that night and was given a referral to a therapist.

Time to fix this.