Anderson and the Marine by Will

One weekend Anderson Collier and his friend Eric Vass were hanging out in the woods on the Marine base where both their fathers were stationed. It was summer; school was out and their fathers were 10,000 miles away fighting a war to keep the country free. The summer weather in North Carolina is oppressively hot and humid. 19-year-old Anderson and 19-year-old Eric usually wore only khaki cargo shorts and white tee shirts, or no shirts at all.

Anderson and Eric had lived at the base for almost two years, and could always be found mountain biking around in the woods, hunting squirrel and rabbits, camping out, or just fucking off. The base was pretty secure and their mothers never got too concerned whenever they'd sometimes disappear over night.

The woods were sacred grounds to Anderson. It afforded him one of the few respites from the house full of women which his dad had left for him to 'take care of' while he was off at war.

More than a few homeless guys - mostly indigents - often lived in those woods along the railroad tracks which marked the boundary between the "outside" world and the "inside security" of the Marine base. And today as they raced through the woods they came across a little camp that had been abandoned except for a little bonfire that was in its last minutes of life. They jumped off their bikes and walked over to a huge oak tree where they found an unopened bottle of liquor.

"Wow", gushed Anderson, grabbing for the bottle. But Eric stiffened at the thought. Both boys had been raised in the strictest of Evangelican upbringing, and all alcohol was "the devil's brew".

But Anderson insisted, and they both sat down to have their first taste of hard liquor. Eric immediately spat his out and complained about the burning taste in his mouth. Anderson choked his down and figured it would taste better if he mixed it with the cherry Gatorade - or something. Ignoring Eric's fire and brimstone condemnations, Anderson took a few more swigs before he capped the bottle and laid it back down on the found where he found it.

It wasn't until they jumped back on their bike did Anderson realize that he'd gotten a buzz from those few swallows of alcohol; and it felt good. They continued on down the tracks for another mile or two when they came to several rail cars which were loaded with three or four personnel carriers used to haul troops around in battle. They jumped off their bikes and were up on the rail cars in a second, scrambling about the huge, tank-like machines.

Suddenly, shooting through the air like a soaring cannon ball, came a roaring voice bellowing: "Get the FUCK off those weapons you scrawny dickless wonders!!"

The masterful authority in the timbre of that voice scared the two teenagers shitless. Both Anderson and Eric were rather formidable looking teenagers, but they had just been intimidated; and were even more surprised when they saw a tall, imposing, 20-something Marine in full camouflage fatigues.

Regaining his confidence, "We didn't break anything!" said Anderson.

The tall soldier simply shrugged and replied, "I didn't say ya did, asshole. I just have my orders to keep anyone from fucking with Uncle Sam's equipment - especially curious looking punks like you two."

As Anderson and Eric scrambled down off the carriers they noticed the poor bastard was sweating his ass off in his field uniform.

When all three were finally down off the rail cars, the corporal headed back to the edge of the woods from where he'd been watching the equipment. For whatever reason, the teenagers felt it necessary to go with him. His small tent was well hidden within the abundant shade that the many pines provided. It was obvious that he'd chosen this site for both the cover it gave as well as the cooling shadows which the shade generated.

The jarhead sat down on his cot and started drinking water from his canteen. He went into an explanation about the locomotive that had been pulling the train had broken down, and that base headquarters had relayed to his superior officers that it would be at least two days before another could be sent out to continue moving the shipment of materials - which he had been assigned to escort. And since the machines represented a substantial investment of government money, he had been ordered by his superiors to stand guard there over the cars until they could be moved.

The Marine asked them their names and they told him. He told them his was Clemons W. Hoffmeyer -- Corporal Clemons W. Hoffmeyer to be exact --, but that everyone called him "Bronco" for short. He then began an explanation of how he got the nickname. Anderson noticed that the marine's robust disciplinary attitude seemed to be lightening up a bit. And it soon became obvious to the boys that the guy was probably just happy to have anyone near his own age [he was 26] to talk to - and to kill some of the boredom.

Noticing how tense the corporal was, Anderson figured he tell him about the bottle of liquor they'd found a few miles back down the tracks. The news instantly stirred the interest of the almost painfully bored military man, "Shit, dudes, I could definitely go for a drink right now!" He scanned their young faces with solemn intent. He then asked if they'd go back down the tracks to get the bottle.

Neither Anderson nor Eric relished the idea of biking back up those two miles just to get this jarhead a swig of liquor. Besides it was getting near dinner time and both had promised their mothers they'd be home on time for a change -- and they had a long enough ride ahead of them already.

Anderson announced that they had to be getting home. A look of astonishing disappointment swept across the Marine's face.

"Dudes! Dudes!" began the corporal, "how about you come back after dinner and hang out. Shit, its lonely here; and I'm bored out of my fucking head!"

Anderson and Eric looked at each other and simultaneously said "Maybe!" They then started for the bikes that lay over against the rail car.

"Hey." shouted the marine corporal, "if you do come back, bring that bottle and some mixer!"

"Some... what?" asked Anderson.

"Some mixer!" called Bronco, "you know, like Pepsi or Coke, or something!"

"Maybe. We'll see!" halfheartedly responded Anderson as the two rode off on their bikes.

After dinner, Anderson phoned Eric to see if he was interested in going back to see Bronco. Eric said his mother had made plans and that he was stuck staying home to baby-sit his younger sisters. He wanted Anderson to come by to baby-sit with him, but Anderson wanted no part of a night of living hell with three spoiled little girls.

So, Anderson -- not expecting any more than having an opportunity to meet someone outside his close circle of friends on the base -- hopped on his bike and headed through the woods for the tracks.

On the way out, he'd stopped at a snack shop to pick up a six pack of Coke, then peddled out to pick up the bottle of liquor they'd found earlier.

The sun was setting low in the sky and he followed it as it gradually set over the tops of the trees which marked the spot over the forests where he was headed.

Ahead, he saw the railroad cars with their huge impressive machines and expected to see the marine standing next to them. But he was nowhere to be seen. Propping his bike up against the rail car as he'd done earlier, he made his way amid the trees where he knew the small camp would be.

Through the trees he could see Bronco sitting on his canvas sleeping cot. He no longer wore his helmet or his field jacket that had made him look so impressively large-and-in-charge before.

Actually, Anderson was surprised to see him wearing only a pair of olive colored boxer shorts, a tank tee-shirt, his standard issue corps cap and his black combat boots. Both his hands were rested in his lap and Anderson could see his cock sticking up out of the opening of the boxers. The naive, 19-year-old, Christian boy was rather astounded at the scene. No longer did Corporal Hoffmeyer seem like the fierce, barking, badass jarhead he'd encountered only a few hours earlier. Instead there seemed to be an awkward innocence about him that Anderson hadn't expected. Unlike earlier in the day, he now looked only the 26 years he claimed to be; he appeared almost vulnerable. His tall body, now shirtless, revealed the taut, massive muscularity that had mystically shone thru his uniform.

Suddenly, the Marine grabbed his protruding cock and slowly began to pull on it. His big fist could barely fit around the massive meat, the palm of that big fist choked the cock at the base yet it still had several inches above the hand.

Bronco began pulling and choking the rigid meat rather vigorously as Anderson stood there, his eyes wide as quarters, totally hypnotized by the spectacle. He shuddered when he felt something begin to stir deep within him that he couldn't recall ever having felt before. Lust?...desire?...he had no idea. He only knew that a primordial need was urging him, shoving him, compelling him to get closer to the man there on the cot.

As he silently struggled with those burgeoning feelings his foot mashed down on a dry twig and a loud snap echoed throughout the small area. It gave Bronco a start and his hands sprang away from the cock. Quickly, he pulled his boxers up and around that beautiful hard and pulsing meat all in one swift movement.

He eyes met Anderson's as the teenager made his way into the clearing, acting as though he'd just walked up on the clearing. Bronco didn't seem the least bit embarrassed at being interrupted. And that was perchance due to the blank expression on Anderson's face in an attempt to hopefully conceal the tsunami of lust that now flooded within him.

Bronco instantly noticed that the kid had the liquor and the Coca Cola 'mixer'.

"Dude! You made it! Awesome!" ejaculated the corporal, walking up and slapping Anderson on the shoulder and slightly pulling him to him as if to hug. The contact was just close enough to Anderson for him to feel the semi-erect shaft. Its phenomenal heat rubbed against the teenager's belly just above his own semi-erect meat.

Anderson noticed that Bronco was damp with sweat and his body gave off the strong pungent odor of someone who hadn't had a shower for a day or so. The summer Carolina heat hadn't been kind to this guy. But, be that as it may, Anderson found the strong manly aroma fiercely intoxicating. He inhaled deeply several times - savoring deeply the spicy, nut-tightening aroma.

The Marine was over-the-moon at the presence of Anderson, while the teenager just smiled sheepishly as he stood there by the cot.

"You guys weren't kidding about the fucking liquor, were ya?", said the man, smiling as he held up the bottle for inspection.

Anderson beamed a smile, pleased that he'd brought some happiness -- as well as had gained some favor and approval from this good-looking alpha-male Marine.

Bronco bent down and began digging through the large field pack that seemed to contain damn near everything imaginable - toilet paper, canteen, socks, a manual of some kind, a toothbrush, all laying there on the ground. He continued digging - toothpaste, a small all-purpose knife, a fork, Vaseline, a razor. He quickly grabbed the jar of Vaseline and promptly shoved it back into the pack. Almost in the same gesture he pulled out what he was looking for, two steel cups inserted inside each other.

"Ah, here they are!" he chimed, "Thought I'd lost these fuckers."

Smiling, he put his huge hand on Anderson's shoulder in a gesture to sit down on the cot.

The 19-year-old did as he was told. And as he sat there, he saw the juicy, fat head of Bronco's now soft cock just barely slipping out from the front of his boxers. But Corporal Hoffmeyer appeared oblivious to his long, thick manhood hanging half at-attention just inches from where the kid sat.

Anderson tried so very hard not to stare. He really did. But when he caught himself doing so, far longer than any normal, red-blooded, Christian boy should be, he rapidly looked down at the ground, and found a spot there to pretend to fixate on.

"SHIT!" shouted Bronco, seated there on the cot beside Anderson, "I sure wish I had me some ice!"

Both nervousness and excitement were the feelings now fiercely possessing Anderson seated there on the cot next to Corporal Clemons "Bronco" Hoffmeyer. He thought the excitement might be the result of actually having the opportunity to hang out with a guy older than himself that didn't treat him like the spoiled high school senior military brat that he was. The thought was exhilarating. He began imagining Bronco as a long lost older brother and that his being there with him gave them an opportunity to get re-acquainted with each other all over again.

"So tell me about yourself." growled Bronco as he opened the bottle of liquor. "Is your old man a lifer?"

This was the standard question living in a military town. It was a downright dumbass one when asked of a dependant offspring living on a base.

"Yeah, I guess,' replied Anderson, "We live over by the golf course about a mile form the Officers Club."

The corporal swung his head in the teenager's direction and stared at him, "Your old man's an officer? What's his rank?"

Anderson told the man that his dad was a Lieutenant-colonel attached to one of the base fighter wings.

"A pilot, eh?" he responded, looking somewhat impressed.

Anderson told him that his dad was over in Afghanistan for his second tour in two years.

Corporal Hoffmeyer picked up on the slight sudden touch of sadness in Anderson's voice knowing that a good number of boys and girls were growing up in a large number of military establishments without fathers being around all of the time. Reaching over, he placed his arm over Anderson shoulders and hugged him in an awkward way. Quickly, he then roughly ran his fingers through the teenager's hair and smiled.

Anderson was surprised at both gestures and found that it left him feeling intensely aroused in that way he was not familiar with.

Reaching down into his overstuffed backpack again, Bronco pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, then poured a healthy shot of liquor into each of the two cups, followed with the cola Anderson had picked up on the way back.

Bronco took his first swig and pulled down almost a third of what was in the cup. Anderson had no intention of trying to keep up with that kind of drinking, especially since his mind was conflicted with the thought that he shouldn't be drinking liquor at all. The burning taste was still fresh in his mouth from earlier in the today. Bronco looked over at the kid to see if he'd followed his lead. Feeling the Marine's gaze on him, Anderson sheepishly took a sip of the concoction. He discovered that it didn't taste as bad as he'd expected; apparently the soda took away some of the bite. So he quickly put the cup back to his lips again and took a serious swallow.

It did Anderson no good at all to try to mask or conceal his reaction to the alcohol. Immediately Bronco burst out laughing and again put his hand on the teenagers shoulder followed by a teasing slap on the back.

As the night went forward, Anderson's apprehension about being there with the marine began to lift. The man wasn't as menacing as he'd first imagined. Bronco asked him a series of questions about where he grew up, where else his family had been stationed; what his parents were like.

Then, in like, he told Anderson his story as he conveyed how he'd gotten into trouble with the law as a teenager and how the judge had given him the choice of either going to jail or enlisting in the military. He never mentioned what offense it was that he committed, but appeared rather amused at himself for having done it.

As he went about refilling his cup he began talking about the buddies he'd left back home and how much he missed hanging out with them.

"Damn, we did EVERYTHING together!" the corporal pined. "There was nothing we didn't do without the other. Nothing!", he went on, wistfully.

"Every guy needs to have at least one buddy like that!" said Bronco smiling widely at Anderson as he finished pouring his drink.

Seeing a playful glint in the man's eye, Anderson took the cue and, mustering up his courage, turned up his cup and finished off his drink.

Swiftly, Bronco poured the teenager another cup full of liquor and cola. He then put the bottle on the ground and stood up and walked a bit out of the clearing from where they both sat on the cot. Reaching down, he pulled his cock out of his boxers and started to piss. As he did so he continued to talk about nothing in particular; but just enough to keep Anderson's attention on him and his pissing.

It worked. Anderson was mesmerized by Bronco's huge soft manhood which now hung out of his boxers a good six inches. He playfully shook it as he talked causing the piss to oscillate like a wave as it forcefully streamed from that beautiful head. Anderson knew Bronco was aware of his uncontrollable fixation on that slab of mighty manly meat, but the man said nothing. Finally he shook the last few remaining urine drops from the tip and half-heartedly tucked it back inside his boxers.

Anderson slowly allowed himself to acknowledge the torrent of blood coursing down to his own cock, and hoped that his boner wouldn't become too massive in his shorts for the marine to take notice.

By now the last light of dusk was flowing into twilight. Anderson was experiencing the liquor gradually going to his head and he began to wonder if his mom would know he'd been drinking alcohol, should he decide to go home? He began to contemplate leaving his new friend and to head on back home.

But before he made any kind of a decision, he too needed to take a good piss. Normally he'd go into the woods or behind a bush because he was one of those boys who had a terminal case of "piss shyness". But, not wanting to look like a scared or shameful wimp, he got up, walked over to the same spot where Bronco "wetted the stones", and pissed. He stood there spraying the weeds, turning only slightly away from the marine so as not to give him too much of chance to catch a glimpse of his sacred teenage dick.

Glancing over, Anderson saw that corporal Hoffmeyer was affording his young dick the same unblinking attention that he had given his manly Marine truncheon.

Anderson was surprised that when he fixed his gaze on the man, Bronco still continued to stare at his young fountaining phallus. A sweet electrifying tingle ran up the kid's spine when he realized what the marine was actually doing.

Bronco finally broke his gaze and stared wildly into Anderson's eyes. "Damn dude," he chortled, "You sure is toting some mighty powerful heat for an 19-year-old!"

With the way the words were blurted out, and with the way the alcohol was seducing his young mind, Anderson trembled with all-consuming arousal at the thought of Bronco flattering him for his penis. He had never thought of himself as being well- endowed; in fact he tried not to think about his penis, at all, one way or the other; it was un-Christian. In fact, he was one of those kids who always tried to wait until last to dress and undress in the locker room during gym class.

Bronco smiled slightly as Anderson moved back towards the cot to sit back down. Their conversation soon began to bounce all over the place -- mostly because Bronco seemed to have so much to say about nothing, compounded by the fact that they both had started on their third drink -- and were beginning to get super buzzed.

"So, do you have a girlfriend?" finally asked Corporal Hoffmeyer.

Anderson answered that he didn't; that none of the girls at school that he was interested in were not in the least bit interested in him. Bronco didn't pursue the matter. But for whatever reason the teenager expected him to start bragging about all his females with the typical bravado that identifies Marines. The teenager had surely seen enough of that sort of thing during his life with his occasional travels with his father.

Instead, Bronco asked him if he had a 'buddy'.

Anderson answered that Eric was probably his best friend since they'd known each other for almost two years.

Bronco surrendered somewhat of a puzzled look, "I mean... IS he your 'buddy'?", he asked again.

"Yeah... I guess." replied Anderson.

The marine still looked unconvinced as he sternly stared into Anderson's eyes. "But... is he your 'good' buddy?" he continued. "You know...someone who like does everything with you?"

Anderson said that even though they were good friends, Eric and he were still two very different people. And that difference, he confided, was made all the more real by the fact that Eric was 13 months his junior, and sometimes, Eric's occasional immaturity got on his nerves.

"That's too bad, man." replied Bronco, shaking his head in feigned disgust. "Well, my buddy Rio and me did EVERYTHING together before I joined the corps. Damn! I sure as hell miss him!"

Bronco's voice trailed off wistfully; and whenever he'd mention his friend's name, Anderson noticed that the marine's left hand would slightly graze or touch the fleshy head of his cock that still jutted out through his boxers. And with closer scrutinization, the teenager noticed that a big hood of loose skin covered much of the bulbous cockhead. He realized that his new friend was uncircumcised.

During his freshman year at high school Anderson had seen a Latino boy in gym class with tons of loose skin covering the head of his penis, but that cock was nothing like Bronco's massive mule dick.

Corporal Clemons W. Hoffmeyer slung back another big swallow of his drink then bellowed, "Ooooh, man...I am so FUCKING horny!" His rich baritone voice trailed off in a groan. "Shit..!", he continued, "I sure wish the fuck that Rio were here right now!"

The sex-saturated marine craned his gaze over at Anderson. "Have you ever helped your friend Eric jerk off?"

The question startled Anderson with the force of its almost brutal frankness.

"Umm, uh, no... I... uh..." stammered the teenager, "...we've never done anything like that. I...me...he...we try hard not to even think about that...er..ah..kinda...stuff."

Keeping Anderson in his stern gaze, Bronco sipped hungrily from his cup. "Come on, you've never thought about him sucking your cock, or at least giving you a handjob. You gotta admit...your buddy Eric's sure got a damn pretty mouth!"

"A what-job?" asked Anderson never having heard the term before.

Bronco's glazed hazel eyes were hotly glaring into Anderson's as he continued, "You know, a handjob!! Or.....have you ever thought of sucking his cock or jacking him off? Huh?"

The teenager swiftly looked down to the ground, his eyes blankly staring at the space between his feet. He felt a confession coming. He didn't want to. But before he could stop it, there it was ......flooding out: "I...uh...thought about it once when we skipped school and went skinny dipping together one day. But....we never...uh...we never did that...or anything."

"Oh man, that's too bad." replied Bronco, almost mockingly, sipping another mouthful of liquor.

A long silence spread between the two.

"Man, its hot this evening!" shouted Bronco motioning his head in mock gesture of shaking layers of sweat from it. He reached down and pulled his tank tee-shirt up over his head and tossed the item behind the cot. In the waning light, Anderson could see the faint layer of fine hair that covered most of his flawless torso. The hairs seem to grow in a way that, at the center of his chest, they met and formed a dark line down the length of his torso and continued down into that secret torrid place just below the elastic band of those olive drab boxers.

Instantly, Anderson became acutely aware of his own lack of chest hair. He also noticed that the marine's body revealed not so much a muscularity to his frame as much as it showed a considerable tightness. He must have 190 pounds weighing on his 6'2" frame, and yet he came across as being almost skinny - except for his huge chest -- which seemed out of proportion to the rest of his body.

"Would you like to be my buddy and give me a hand?" Bronco asked.

"Sure! What do you need?" responded Anderson in youthful ignorance.

With that, Bronco lightly gripped Anderson's right wrist and slowly - almost delicately - placed his open palm just on top of the huge bulge of meat that packed the front of those boxers. He gently held the kid's hand in place there. Anderson offered absolutely no resistance. He was frozen like a rabbit. Frozen half out of complete surprise, and half out of the all-consuming sexual exhilaration that now coursed throughout his young and yearning body. The blazing heat and tantalizing moisture of the thick hard bulge beneath his palm seemed to soak up into his own tender flesh.

Every so slightly, almost imperceptibly, Anderson slowly closed his eager trembling fingers around that sweet hot mass of throbbing manhood. When his hand had confidently grasped the hard, twitching, jerking pubic treasure, he let his hand freeze again. The throbbing bulge felt like a huge lost appendage, now, once again, reclaimed.

Bronco was breathing heavily and groaning only so slightly. He tossed his head back and loudly exhaled. Quietly groaning, he held his head back with his eyes closed. Slowly the man's grip on Anderson's wrist loosened even further, until his hand was just gently resting atop Anderson's.

The two of them just sat there frozen in the moment. Bronco, with his head facing the sky, and Anderson sitting there with a jubilant handful of the marine's sweaty, throbbing meat. His young heart luxuriated in the exhilarating sensation of the moistness, the stiffness, the heat, the twitching, and the feel of the man's heartbeat in that formidable baby-maker.

Anderson felt his own rigid boner furiously thrashing around between his own legs. And when he sensed the existence of his own erection, he felt Bronco's erection stretch even larger. The turgid meat soon sprang beyond the narrow confines of his right hand and fully filled the opening of those boxers. Anderson's eyes stretched wide with disbelief as the cock grew and grew between his sweaty palms. The kid softly grunted a primordial utterance of phenomenal joy. The piss slit of the bulbous head of Bronco's monster cock began ushing out copious amounts of pre cum. An anomaly unfamiliar to Anderson. Was it piss or was it cum? pondered the kid. But whatever it was, it sure looked mighty tasty.

Pursing his lips together the Marine blew forth a stream of air as if he were trying to whistle. Ever so slightly he manipulated Anderson's hand so that his wrist turned inward. The teenager needed no more coaxing and savagely gripped the fully erect nine-and-a-half-inch jewel that was at least six inches in circumference.

Bronco thrust up his hips a few times so that the stiff meat could ride up and down inside the tight sweaty clinging palms of Anderson. The oozing pre cum made the action slicker and more enjoyable for the man.

Those few hot, lustful thrusts were enough for Anderson to get a lucid picture of what was needed of him next. So he obliged.

He eagerly began rhythmically pumping back and forth on the beautiful, rigid phallus between his fingers. Excitedly he performed this for several minutes. He felt Bronco's long muscular body grow even tighter as the cadence of his jerking gathered speed. The teenager was only following a natural inclination of what he sometimes, very shamefully, did with his own cock. Back and forth, back and forth..a bit faster with every other half dozen pulls.

Suddenly, Bronco grabbed his hand to halt the intensity of the rhythm - it seemed to be putting him in a trance. He then tugged at the elastic band of his boxers and pulled them down to his ankles. He now sat there completely naked except for his black boots.

Just as Anderson thought the marine was about to reposition himself, he instead reached over and gripped the raging erection inside the teenagers baggy shorts. The cock that had been hidden in those shorts all day and now begging for release into the lush twilight air. Bronco's huge fingers began fumbling frantically with the zipper of the shorts; but soon gave up and swung around to face the kid. Reaching down with both hands he began to undo the top button of the shorts. As soon as the top button was opened, the pressure from the hard, young, uninitiated schlong caused the zipper to undo itself. The baggy shorts fell away from his hips and lay there on the cot beside him. His white cotton briefs almost glowed in the darkness of the woods. There in the front loomed a huge bulge. Its contents throbbed, jerked and leaped, as though feverishly attempting to escape.

Bronco almost barked the command, "Stand up, dude! Stand up!"

Anderson swiftly obliged. And before he was fully standing, Bronco had rapidly tugged down both his shorts and his cotton briefs to his knees. The abruptness of the force nearly knocked the teenager off balance and, almost falling to the side, he reached out and grabbed Bronco's head, and then a shoulder with each hand. He steadied himself there.

Both of Bronco's hands still vigorously tugged and pulled at the waist of the shorts and underwear. Then in one sudden movement the marine was off the cot and down onto his knees. Anderson trembled with lust when he felt the Corporal's hot breath caress his raging teenage penis. Again, he froze, not knowing what to expect. But before another thought entered Anderson's mind, he felt the warm exploring wetness of Bronco's mouth envelope the entire length of his 19-year-old cock.

Feeling weak in the knees, Anderson placed both his hands atop Bronco's head as he experienced the man's huge tongue lapping at his sensitive meat. He trembled blissfully as those full manly lips sucked hungrily and loudly. Lasciviously, his warrior's face moved back and forth on the kid's swollen dick.

A titillating shock shot up through Anderson's spine and into his brain, as he felt, for the very first time, the glorious pleasure of oral stimulation. Both his hands rested and sometimes played atop the jarhead's buzz cut. The close cropped marine haircut felt like a brush, and Anderson relished the scratching sensation it made against each palm.

Slowly Bronco's huge hands migrated from the hip of each leg of the teenager and made their way around to his backside where he grabbed a heaping handful of those almost hairless ass cheeks. He clutched greedily at those fresh young mounds of tender masculinity. The sensation startled Anderson at first. But then the man began to slam the kid's cock deeply into his mouth while savagely massaging those firm taut cheeks. He began groaning louder while forcing Anderson's throbbing cock down inside his throat. His groans grew more and more soul-satisfying with each involuntary thrust of the teenager's crotch into his face.

Anderson heatedly shoved his young heat down into the back of the marine's throat where he could feel the tightening flesh of his larynx. Needing no more coaxing, Anderson uninhibitedly commenced pushing himself faster and faster and faster and harder and faster into the deep, tight, moist warmth. With each pumping action he pushed himself further and further and further between those pink military lips which were ringed with a days worth of stubble. Down, down, down into that throat. Anderson closed his eyes and pushed with exhilarating fervor.

All at once, Bronco pulled away. Even though his mouth was completely off the teenager's dick, Anderson still continued to thrust into the air in front of the marine's face. Still on his knees, Bronco gripped both the boy's ass cheeks as hard as he could, snapping Anderson out his fucking motions trance.

Anderson yelped with pain.

"Eeeeasy, buddy. Easy!" said Bronco, almost whispering. "Take it easy, guy. We've got all night"

Corporal Clemons W. Hoffmeyer rose to his feet. They stood there facing each other; the corporal almost seven inches taller than Anderson. Bronco reached out with both arms and pulled the kid to him -- their seriously swollen cocks touching each other's bodies at different points. Bronco cradled Anderson's head against his chest, then positioned the young man's arms around his waist - and then held him closely, hoping the moment would never end.