"What's the problem here, private?" Captain Correlli demanded as sexy PFC Chet Wycoff gave a sharp exclamation of annoyance and pulled the jeep off the road.

"Flat tire, sir." Chet said, hopping out of the jeep and bending down to inspect the tire.

It was flat, all right. In fact, there was a huge gaping puncture in the tire. And as Chet started to go around to where the spare was attached to the back of the jeep, he felt a surge of panic and frustration when he remembered that that tire was no good either, having been punctured the week before. He had forgotten to change it for a fresh spare.

The bumpy dirt road leading off the highway towards the military base north of Baghdad was in lousy condition and wreaked havoc on tires. He and Captain Correlli were still about four miles from the army base, and it looked as though they were stuck.

Captain Correlli climbed out of the jeep and strode around in back where Chet was staring dumbly at the spare.

"Anything the matter, soldier?" Correlli asked. There was a trace of impatience in his deep, masculine voice.

Chet felt more than a little uneasy around the new C.O. The man had a reputation for being tough as steel. And when Chet had picked him up at the Tikrit East Airbase, he had immediately found that Captain Correlli lived up to that reputation. Salvatore Correlli was a big guy, all right. About thirty-two years of age, he stood six foot three, and weighed a solid two hundred and forty pounds of beefy musculature. He had been a semi-professional football player before he joined the army five years earlier, and had earned a reputation on the field as a "killer".

He filled out his olive drab uniform formidably well. His squarish head was topped by short-cropped reddish brown hair, and he had a jutting, stubborn jaw line and a surly lower lip. His nose was slightly flattened and off-kilter from a bar room brawl in his younger days, and his eyes were deep set and a penetrating gray, like chinks of ice.

He had a thick, leathery neck and broad ox-like shoulders. His long arms were brawny and powerful with huge, bulging biceps and big hands. His chest was well-developed with sloping lats and a hard flat stomach. He had long thickly muscled legs and a big, sloping bulge in the crotch of his trousers.

He stared at Chet Wycoff now with piercing eyes. He saw that the private was nervous, and that inspired his anger and contempt. Correlli was not a soft man. Not by a long shot. And he despised weakness in others. Weakness also filled him with a feeling of power which was almost intoxicating. He liked being in charge at all times. He enjoyed making others quail beneath his superiority. It filled him with an erotic, savage rush.

He had noticed that the twenty-year old jeep driver was a terrifically good-looking fellow right off, and now, that was even more apparent as he looked at him up close.

Chet Wycoff was a lean, tautly muscled young man with short sandy brown hair and emerald green eyes. His flesh was deeply tanned by much exposure to the Iraqi sun. Correlli liked the way the private's firm, melon-sized ass cheeks adhered to the neat folds of his uniform trousers. Yeah, the soldier had a nice ass all right....

Correlli felt a tremor of erotic interest stir in his mammoth nuts as he glared down at the sandy-haired G.I. who looked more than a little flustered.

"Uh, the .....the spare's no good, sir", Chet stammered hoarsely.

Sal nodded slowly, folding his brawny arms in front of his expansive chest. In an icy tone, he said, "I see. You mean to say we're stranded out here just because you've neglected to put a new spare onto the jeep in case of just such an emergency. Is that our situation, soldier?"

"Ummm, I - I'm afraid so, sir," Chet muttered huskily.

"So! Are we going to have to walk to the base, soldier? Is that what you expect me to do?" Correlli demanded in a loud ringing voice.

"N-No, sir! I - I'll go ahead and come back for you!"

Sal sneered and asked, "Now, why would you do that, boy? You think I'm a pampered pussy or something? You think a little walk's gonna kill me? It's not the walk that makes me angry, soldier! It's inefficiency! There's no place in this man's Army for inefficiency and sloughing off. Do you understand me? You have failed in carrying out a basic duty. You have been lazy and irresponsible. In the field, such an error could be fatal. It could have endangered the lives of hundreds of men!"

"I - I'm sorry, sir!" Chet gushed huskily, lowering his eyes.

"Yeah...... yeah, I'll bet!" Sal snarled cruelly. "Take off your shirt, soldier! On the double!!"

"H - Huh?" Chet squawked, his green eyes bulging as he surveyed the big, mean captain.

"I SAID, STRIP DOWN TO THE WAIST!! THAT'S AN ORDER, SOLDIER! DO IT!!" Sal roared, his lips curling into a bestial snarl, saliva flecking from between his clenched teeth.

Chet trembled and hastened to obey, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, laying it on the side of the jeep. He was now only wearing his tee shirt and dog tag. Sweat had soaked through the tee shirt in several places, so that it clung to the subtle, chiseled contours of his trim, muscular body.

"STRIP TO THE SKIN, PONY BOY!!", Correlli roared.

Chet trembled and complied, his heart pounding, his head swimming. What on earth was this big nut case up to? He knew he had to obey. He didn't want to risk a court marital. Chet tugged his tee shirt up over his head and stood there, naked to the waist, the sun's hot rays gleaming on the rippling, tan contours of his hot young body.

Sal's narrowed gray eyes raked over Chet's physique, liking what he saw. But he kept his expression of anger and contempt intact on his rugged features. He snarled thickly, "Turn around, soldier and place you hands on the hood of the jeep!"

Chet gurgled in some trepidation, but complied. The hackles on the back of his neck tingled in nervous anticipation of some impending punishment. The hood of the jeep burned hot against his sweaty palms.

Sal reached down and unbuckled his belt, drawing it out of the loops. He gripped it by the buckle, flexing his big muscles narcissistically as his flashing, sadistic eyes burned into the sandy-haired youth's lean, sleek back and the taut curves of his buttocks. With a savage grunt, Correlli brought the belt down hard. It snapped across the firm, unblemished material over Chet's little bubble butt. The sandy-haired soldier gave out a yelp of shock and pain, jumping beneath the blow, almost leaping away from the jeep.

Sal Correlli's deadly voice stopped him. "You make a move to get away, boy, and your ass is grass. Take it like a man, or grovel like a fag. It's your choice, punk!"

Chet whimpered and stopped moving. Chewing on his lower lip and closing his eyes, his fingers clutched convulsively at the hood of the jeep. His whole body was trembling, and his back arched as a second white hot shock of agony knifed through the flesh of his ass cheeks. It seemed as though the stinging of the belt came right through to his buns, unbuffered by the protection of his pants. A third and fourth strike came as Chet broke out in a sweat. He felt hot and dizzy and tears sparkled in his green eyes. But there was something about the intensity of the sensations that shot through him which were exciting, even exhilarating. In his pants, his cock was twitching and slowly elongating, the pain was mingling with pleasure in the young stud's balls.

Sal Correlli became utterly aroused by the sadistic act he was perpetrating. A shockwave of bestial pleasure flooded through him as he felt the force of each blow reverberate along his brawny arm, and his huge horse-cock had expanded in his trousers, throbbing virilely against his hairy leg.

After the fourth strike he let the belt drop to his side as he panted in bestial excitement. Wordlessly, he stepped forward until he was standing close behind Chet. Reaching around to the young man's middle, he fumbled with his belt buckle. Chet gave a weak exclamation of protest, but didn't dare resist the cruel, brawny Commanding Officer.

Sal loosened Chet's belt and pulled down his zipper. Hooking his fingers into the guy's trousers and the band of his undershorts, he hauled them down around Chet's knees.

Chet green eyes bulged in shock as he felt his pants getting tugged down. The hot wind caressed his trembling buttocks, his dangling, stiffening pecker, and his big healthy nuts.

Sal stared down at Chet' ass with burning gray eyes. He surveyed the quivering lobes of hot flesh, stretched tautly over firm hills of muscle, dissected by a deep, hot crack. Lust flamed and pounded wildly through the captain's loins.

"You're nothing but a pretty pony, ain't ya, private? A pretty pony boy!" Sal sneered, clapping his big hands around the young soldier's hot tight ass cheeks, squeezing them brutally, digging his fingers into the hot crack. "You're a fucking faggot, soldier. A snivelin' little pussy cock sucker, ain't you?!"

"N - No sir!", Chet managed to gasp hoarsely. But he felt inadvertent darts of strange desire flooding throughout him and his cock was steadily thickening and growing erect until it sawed up in the air at a forty-five degree angle and throbbed against his washboard stomach.

"I think you are, soldier, and I'm always right," said the C.O smoothly, "You like me playin' with your hot little ass, boy. I can tell. You liked me roughing you up a little, too. You just ain't broken in yet. That's what I'm here for, boy; to discipline you fuckin' twats. To try to make you into men. But first you gotta learn to take it like a man. You gotta learn to submit, you gotta learn what a real stud is all about. I'm a real stud, boy. And right now, you're nothin' but a mewling faggot punk, wet behind the ears!"

Sal had his hands gripped around Chet' lean sides and was leaning against the kid, lewdly hunching his groin up against the jeep driver's buttocks. Chet gasped as he felt the huge, throbbing lump of Sal Correlli's over-sized pecker against his tingling ass cheeks. It felt unbelievably enormous and hard through the khaki material of Captain Correlli's uniform trousers.

Correlli stepped back a couple of feet and grabbed one of Chet' arms, roughly swinging the sandy-haired private around so that they were facing one another. Sal reached out, putting one of his big, beefy hands against Chet' flushed, clean-shaven cheek. He scraped his thumb over Chet's lower lip, sneering down at him while he did this.

"Yeah, punk, you sure are pretty. Pretty as a fuckin' girl. Gives me a hard-on just lookin' at that pretty little mouth and that pretty hot butt of yours, punk. Soldier boy, you should have been a girl, yeah, you ain't got what it takes to be a man."

Abruptly, Correlli drew back his arm and slapped Chet hard across the face, making the young G.I. see stars. Chet gasped, his cheeks stinging from the blow, his heart leaping. His knees felt wobbly and he was dizzy, but his cock was throbbing and sticking straight up in the air from a lush nest of soft, tangled brown pubes.

"Yeah, your skin's nice and soft and smooth..." Sal muttered, running his hands over Chet' rippling chest, cupping the slopes of his young pecs.

The C.O. snapped his forefingers and thumbs around Chet's throbbing, turreting nipples, squeezing them hard. Pinpoints of pain centered in Chet's nubs and he gave a low moan of agony, wincing as the brawny dude manhandled his hot young tits. But the pain which shot through his chest was inextricably mingled with dark, primordial passion.

"Yeah, punk you like me playin' with your tits, huh?" Sal sneered. His eyes darted down to Chet's cock, and he chuckled mockingly. "Gives you a hard on, too, don't it, fag boy? You like getting humiliated and abused by a real man, huh?"

Sal's fingers went to the buttons of his shirt and he started to undo them. Pulling off the shirt he then tugged his tee shirt up over his head, baring the powerful dimensions of his muscle-bound chest.

Standing before the tawny young private, the tall muscular commanding officer said thickly, "Now, boy, you're gonna make amends for being such a hopeless fuckin' mess. You're gonna service your commanding officer like a slut whore."

Chet could barely believe what was going on. It was as though he had plunged suddenly into a wild, hallucinatory dream. But he felt suspended in a helpless vacuum, unable to resist the harsh commander's lascivious orders, unable to resist the passive heat which responded to the aggressive power Salvatore Correlli was exerting.

Chet gaped at the hulking stud of a commanding officer who stood shirtless in front of him. Correlli was rightfully proud of his brawny physique, and he felt a surge of sadistic power shoot through him as he observed how Chet's eyes burned with unwitting interest at the sight of it.

With a husky growl, Correlli leaned forward and slid a hand around the back of Chet Wycoff's head, roughly tugging the kid forward till their faces were inches apart. His searing gray eyes raked over the young G.I.'s flushed features. With a fierce primitive growl, Sal crushed his hard, hungry mouth to Chet's, kissing the astonished private voraciously, his long, swiping tongue prying between Wycoff's lips and sliding around inside of his mouth, trading spit. Chet released a muffled moan, his lips going slack, kissing the captain back with wild desire. His hands went out and began to grope feverishly over Correlli's massive chest.

Still kissing the kid, Sal roughly slapped Chet's hands away from his body, holding them down against Chet's sides as he rolled his tongue around inside Wycoff's mouth.

He broke the kiss, panting in excitement, a strand of saliva webbing their lower lips. Harshly he said, "You don't touch me until I tell you to, is that clear, private?"

"Y - Yes sir.", Chet gasped hoarsely.

Sal raised his arms in the air, clasping his hands around the top of his head and flexed the magnificent muscles in his brawny torso.

"Lick my armpits, soldier." Correlli ordered huskily, "Suck my armpits clean with that hot slut-boy mouth!"

Chet shuddered and meekly bent to comply. He pressed his hungry, pink lips against the sloping lat beneath Correlli's right arm. He thrust out his long, athletic tongue and let it glide slowly up the slope, lashing into the deep, dank hollow beneath Sal's arm.

The blasting heat of the armpit enveloped Chet's face, the heady, intoxicating aroma shooting through his flaring nostrils like a hit of amyl nitrate, making his stomach tighten with lust. He groaned in pleasure, tangling his lips and tongue in the thick tufts of perspiration soaked hairs which sprouted there, his mouth filling with the salty, pungent flavor. He sucked and licked and kissed the commanding officer's armpit, thoroughly washing it out with his tongue. Then he moved to the other armpit and humbly serviced it also.

Correlli then placed his hands on Chet's naked shoulders and slowly pressed down. The private was slowly squatting down on his haunches in front of his studly captain. Then, there he was, staring at the burly captain's bulging crotch. He could see the huge outline of the hefty slab of man meat against the khaki material of his uniform trousers.

"Yeah, you want that big dick bad, don't you, pussy boy?" Sal sneered as he towered arrogantly over the gasping jeep driver who was on his knees in front of him. Reaching down, Correlli undid the button of his fly, thrusting his hips forward. Chet could see the gleaming clasp of the zipper sticking forward through the folds of khaki material that formed the fly.

"Catch that zipper between your teeth, punk, and pull it down!" Correlli huskily ordered.

Trembling with excitement, Chet moved forward. His teeth closed around the cold zipper clasp, gripping it, tugging at it, and pulling it slowly down. He sat back on his haunches, panting, saliva drooling over his lower lip as he stared up at Sal beseechingly.

Reaching down, the captain shoved his pants down over his hips. They bunched about his knees, and all he had on was a soiled jockstrap. Chet moaned, for the dick was even bigger than he had imagined. His senses whirled with passive pleasure at the sight of it. Sal, folding his brawny arms across his chest, huskily ordered, "Suck that cock. Boy! Suck my sweaty cock! I want to feel them sweet boy-girl lips of yours on my dirty cock!"

Chet yawned open his mouth, greedily sucking his hungry lips around the cockhead. Slurping at it, running his tongue back and forth across it. The salty tang of sweat filled his mouth, mixed with the flavor of piss and pre-come. Chet gurgled in delight, tonguing and sucking and licking at the heaviness of Sal's huge balls and the pulsating shaft of his oversized dick-meat. The hefty prong of horsemeat sawed the air with arrogant excitement. It was mammoth, eleven inches long and so thick around, Chet had to use both hands to fully encompass its girth.

Sal reached down, running one of his sweaty hands over Chet's face, caressing and patting the flushed, clean-shaven cheek.

"Lick those balls, boy! Lick em, damn it!", he thickly ordered.

Chet was only too willing to comply. He groaned and tilted back his face, opening his mouth greedily and pushing his face up beneath the heavy-hanging testicles so that they rested on his lower face. The huge hairy scumbag felt hot and heavy on his face, and the powerful aroma it exuded filled his nostrils and made him shudder with desire. He ran his wet, slurping tongue all along the underside of the spasming scrotum, feeling the huge nuts twitch and tighten with bestial excitement. He sucked and slurped on each hefty ball, trying to take them into his mouth, but failing because they were just too large. So he satisfied himself with milking and kissing them from the outside, painting them with warm, soldier-boy spit.

"Yeah.... Yeah...that's good, boy, real good...", Sal panted huskily, shuddering as stud rapture sliced through his loins in electric waves.

Chet licked the insides of Sal's hairy thighs and snaked his tongue through the thickly clustered pubic hairs surrounding the mammoth base of his upright truncheon. Sal grunted in pleasure as the squirming tongue sluiced around the base of his meat.

"Lick my cock, damn it! Lick it good, you fuckin' punk! Lick it all over!" hotly growled the almost delirious C.O.

Chet ran his tongue hungrily up and down the corrugated shaft, flailing it with his licker, feathering his lips over the surface of it, loving its rancid flavor and the heat it gave off, gurgling as he rubbed his hot young face against it, feeling it throb masterfully against his flushed cheeks and slobbering mouth.

He greedily swiped his long velvety tongue back and forth across the pulpy knob, rolling it in smaller and smaller circles until it was tracing and tickling the piss slit, tasting the pre-come and traces of piss there. He surrounded the pulpy knob with his lips, and yawning his jaws wide apart, he managed to take the seeming fist-size cock head into his hungry mouth. It was an incredibly exciting sensation to have something so big and hot in his aching mouth.

"Uh huh, suck that meat, faggot.....Yeeaah....You know what you're doin', punk, you know how to suck dick good, you cock-sucker! Take it all, pussy boy! Take all of that big stud dick!", Sal thickly muttered, panting in excitement as the wet, hot, oral-orifice stroked up and down on his heavy horsemeat.

Suddenly Sal clamped both his big beefy hands around the back of the young man's head, holding it in a vise-like grip. With a brutal growl, he snapped his pelvis forward, at the same time, shoving Chet's face down on the upright cock-shaft. Chet's eyes bulged as the dick-knob rammed down into his gullet, stretching it wider than it had ever been stretched before, cramming down into his aching throat. Correlli's fat nuts were bumping up against Wycoff's quivering chin.

Chet gurgled in protest, making hoarse grunting noises as he tried to pull away from the firm grip of the C.O. He thought he was gong to lose consciousness, yet there was something primitively exciting about being forced to gag and choke on the huge length of stud cock that was impaled in his throat.

After holding his cock deep in Chet's gagging gullet for almost a whole minute, Sal relaxed his grip and pulled back. As he slowly withdrew his massive, saliva-soaked meat, the C.O. began to grunt and quake and tremble. From Chet's perspective he looked like a giant Redwood about to tumble. A primitive grumble began to grow from somewhere deep inside him. That grumble ballooned into a loud, crazed, animal-like growl just as the pulpy head of his steel-hard dick was outside Chet's spit-drenched lips, and the piss-slit began to shoot and spray amazing globs of superior military cum all over the clean-shaven, apple cheeks of Private Chet Wycoff. The young soldier whimpered and gushed in feverish excitement as he frolicked in the great explosive shower of Correlli's cum. His hair, face, ears, chest, shoulders, arms and hands were all copiously inundated with the salty-flavored ambrosia when Sal finally stopped shooting.

The C.O. fell back against the jeep for a moment trying to get his bearings. Chet kneeled there in the dust looking up in almost reverence at Correlli. That Captain Sal sure was master of the game, all right. The young soldier had been ritualistically baptized by his Captain's semen, and now quietly sighed a breath of relief that it was all over.

Sal stared down at the punk who had just orally serviced him expertly. His huge cock was still throbbing up in the air, turgid and continuing to quiver with erotic heat. In a harsh husky voice he ordered Chet to his feet. "Now you're gonna get this hard-on crammed up your tight, little boy-pussy, punk!"

Trepidation and excitement were bunched like a fistful of blazing coals in the pit of Chet Wycoff's stomach as he slowly, unsteadily stood up. He couldn't take his eyes off of Salvatore Correlli's horse-size truncheon. Jeez, it was too fuckin' big, all right.... He couldn't take something THAT big up his ass....! Or could he????