No matter what video you are watching or what toy you are playing with, it is your imagination that takes you down into the batehole and to the finale with your sperm shooting out in all its glory. Or your insides ripped to shreds by that new and usually larger instrument of inserted pleasure. The road to the point of satisfaction can be a long one or one that develops quickly and leads to an almost instantaneous gratification. And the attack of desire to masturbate can overcome a person in any location at any time.
On his back, lying on the weight bench doing his last set of reps, Sergeant Major Adam "The Man" Einhardt exhales as he lifts the heavily weighted bar and inhales as he lowers the bar into the brackets. Perfect form leads to a perfect outcome. The man has presence. No matter who comes in contact with this man, whether the most straight-laced sex denier or roué or cad, nobody is able to control an instinctual gut response of male superiority and male sexuality when they lay eyes on this Greek god. In his early thirties, the man is built as if he were the model of some ancient hero, such as Hercules or the blonde Achilles.
With all the power any man can ask, Adam has yet to find lasting happiness in a relationship. Adam has just divorced his second wife, leaving her with two kids. One son will grow up gay, and the other son will take on an addiction that will destroy his life and family.
Adam slides forward on the bench and sits up. His spotter is still standing behind him. Adam turns to the mirror and flexes his pecs, now full of blood, with the sweet burning inside that he lives for. He stands there looking at himself, proud of what he sees.
Adam has come to find his happiness within himself. He no longer looks to the exterior world for anything. He has a good income. He's living back on base in his own quarters. His sole goal is to build more muscle, increase his size and his presence. He knows his captain, his immediate commander, has to suppress an erection when Adam walks into his office to take care of business. Adam is always the first Marine there in the morning for physical training - calisthenics followed by a two mile run, sometimes with gear, sometimes without. No man in the unit comes close to the physical perfection and dedication Adam possesses.
Sometimes, on the weekends, especially in the summer, Adam likes to run through the pathways that adjoin the French Creek area, since that is where his gym is located. However, on some occasions, Adam will work out at one of the original gyms, uniting with the spirit of the Marines of WWII who were stationed at Lejeune and ended up all over the world.
On this particular Saturday afternoon, Adam decides to do a whole body workout and take Sunday off. Showering to clean the workout sweat from his body, Adam soaps himself up well and has a feeling of profound attainment as he rubs the bar of soap over his bulging muscles. He soaps himself up twice to get that squeaky clean feeling and takes his time about rinsing off. Towel dried, he slips into his red running shorts, taking special notice of the gold Marine insignia stamped into the lower right corner. Adam chooses not to put on a shirt, as he plans to do some running before returning to his quarters. He listens to the usual gym banter, nods his good-byes and exits into one of those Indian summer days of early fall.
Knowing the pathway has some hidden dead ends, Adam decides to run each dead end and back onto the main path. It's Saturday. He has no idea what he'll find, if, in fact, he will find anything. Adam begins his easy jog into the woods along the beaten path. His workout has invigorated him, but not to the point of making the jog a limit breaking experience. He enjoys the sound of his feet hitting the earth with a constant beat... at a moderate tempo. Adam comes to the first cut off that leads to a spot, hidden by the vegetation, a perfect spot for two men to share their bodies discretely.
At this moment, the spot is bare. Adam jogs in place for a few moments and then heads out to the main trail. A slight breeze whooshes through the trees and shrubbery, flickering the leaves and pine needles, reminding Adam, for some strange reason, of the slow passage of time, of his own maturity and future maturity. He sees himself at 45, a Zeus-like figure, delegating his wishes to those around him. He commands without commanding. His focus is sharp. His image is clear. He sees himself, maybe with a beard, the Corps far behind him, in some Near Eastern country, running an intelligence gathering service. He lives what many men consider a dream. He suffers from his own perfection and his ability to have his every wish met, yet he sees all that he can have, he wants very little. He knows the emptiness of vanity and riches.
He decides to walk awhile, so jogs in place to cool down. He places his hands on his knees and looks around him. Total open air silence. He walks forward along the main trail and makes the right turn into the byway that leads to a secluded area with a "get away" path that leads back onto the main trails. Something tells him to turn back onto the main trail, go forward and then circle back to the spot. Adam walks leisurely forward for about fifty yards and turns back to his right, but this time, the path is moving in the opposite direction. Adam feels another rustle of the shrubbery and a shaking of the leaves. He stops. He detects two men walking idly along, whispering to each other, a sound barely audible at the distance and through the underbrush, but still able to be heard.
Adam remains where he is as he cannot be seen from the secluded spot nor from the main trail. He hears the two men turn off the main path. Then close enough, he hears the one tell the other, "I've got to take a leak." "Me, too. I drank plenty of fluid during my workout." Immediately, Adam knew who the two Marines were. One was Cassidy, a good sized buff man with a huge hairy chest, and the other was Lane, a pipsqueak of a guy, but lean and hard and hung. Adam decides to see how this "pissing contest" turns out
He hears Cassidy, "Man, you've got more dick than you've got a body."
"Yeah, curse of the men in my family."
"How far can you piss with that thing?"
"Let me show you." Lane leans back, aims upward and shoots over Cassidy's head into the bushes beyond. And then in a perverse but playful mood, Lane turns the arc of his piss on Cassidy, who is not amused. The SgtMaj witnesses the incident. Cassidy replies, "One good shot deserves another," and proceeds to piss all over Lane. So the two Marines are pissing on each other when the SgtMaj steps in.
"Marines. Marines. Marines!" "Don't waste all that piss all over your bodies. It's no good if it doesn't go down your throats and into your stomach. Lane, I want to see you give some of that piss to Cassidy, and I want Cassidy to give some of his piss to Lane. And then I'll piss over both your dicks and watch you lick it off each other, which means you'll have to suck each other's cocks. And that, Marines, is what you want to do. If you're willing to die for him, the least the two of you can do for each other is give yourselves a little cock every once in a while."
"Cassidy, get on your knees!"
"Yes, Sir, SgtMaj."
"Lane, piss into his mouth."
