Flyboys
Pete swung into the gym with a big grin on his face. "Fleet's in and I've already talked with Javier. His ship will be in early, on Thursday. Says he can get a three-day shore pass. Time for a special weekend."
"I'm game," Todd answered, but he was looking up at the man spotting him on the bench press and asked, "How about you, Dan?"
"Every weekend's special with you, babe," Dan answered. His idea of spotting was to have his hands on the inside of Todd's bare thighs and stroking them.
Pete was standing in the middle of the gym room at the Air Force base near San Diego, one of several workout rooms scattered around the base for airmen's use, this one being one of the most remotely located ones. He was toweling himself off after his run to the gym. He, like the other three men, Todd, Dan, and Bill, was wearing only a jockstrap, gym shorts, and athletic shoes. All four men, all Air Force officer pilots, were cut superbly. Pete was black; the others were white.
"I'll arrange the BOQ room at the officers' club," Pete said. "But I guess Bill better be the one to go down to the harbor to meet up with Javier and do the hunt. He's the prettiest of the bunch."
Bill grunted his assent at the assignment without losing count in the leg lifts he was doing on another apparatus. Bill indeed was the best looking of the four, although all of them looked great, especially the way they'd developed their bodies. Bill was tall and sultry dark, with some intriguing curling body hair on his forearms, pecs, and in a trail down his sternum, across his belly, and into the waistband of his gym shorts. Broad shoulders and slim waist. Big biceps, washboard abs. The face of a movie star, with a perpetual five o'clock shadow. Bedroom eyes.
"Money for the meals, liquor, and condoms and for Javier's tip go to Todd as usual," Pete said. "Five hundred each should do it, but if it's not enough we all agree to kick in more, right?"
Grunts of agreement were heard all around.
"Make sure you have a good supply of the rubbers," Bill said, turning to Todd. "We almost ran out last time."
Todd was doing his own count of his bar lifts, but he stopped in mid cadence. "Dan! You'll make me lose count."
All he heard in answer was a slurping sound, as Dan had pulled Todd's gym shorts off his legs, pulled his cock out from the jock pouch, and was giving him head.
Todd and Dan could almost be twins—Siamese twins—hooked at the crotch. Both reddish blonds of medium height, and, though well muscled, both on the wiry side. Not an ounce of fat on either one. Both with buzz cuts. Todd was the younger and more handsome of face of the two. Dan, who usually took the lead, as he was doing here, was distinguished by the veins that stood out between his muscles and the skin on his arms and legs, the veins having no fat at all to sheath them. His facial features were more rugged than Todd's. He didn't smile much, and he was more demanding and a bit cruel and rough. He'd had his dick inside Todd most of the time since Todd had come on duty at the air base. Todd, preferably a top, accepted this from Dan but from no one else. What mostly the two had in common, though, was that they liked to share another guy between them—at the same time.
"Could you spot the door for us, Pete?" Dan growled.
Pete picked up two twenty-pound hand weights and moved to where he was standing in front of the door to the corridor, staring through the small window in the door.
"Oh shit, oh fuck," Todd exclaimed as, hunched over him, Dan worked his cock into Todd's hole. Todd's ankles were on Dan's shoulders and Dan was lifting Todd's buttocks with palms that spread the butt cheeks, opening the hole that now hungered for and fit his cock like a glove, and fingers that moved the jock straps out of the way. He revolved the cock head to remind Todd's channel who was boss and then dove deep and began immediately to pump as Todd, gripping the pillars of the weight rack with white-knuckled fists, began to groan and move his hips to the rhythm of the fuck. Dan was thick; Todd was long. Bill, the hunkiest of the four, stopping his leg lifts to pull out his cock, start stroking, and to watch, was both thick and long. The black Pete, the bulkiest and most muscle bound of the four, standing spot at the door and feeling himself going hard at the sound of the fucking, was thickest and longest of the four.
Although not watching, except by way of a faint reflection in the window in the door, Pete could hear the stroking as marked by Todd's groan and Dan's grunt with each thrust and by the sound of the slapping of Dan's big balls on Todd's inner thighs. Pete raised the hand weights to his shoulders. Thrust and groan, up with the right weight; thrust and grunt, lowering the right weight; thrust and groan, up with left weight; thrust and grunt, lowering the left weight. Thrust and . . .
The four Air Force officers were a close-knit group, having discovered their mutual interests in jockeying jets, keeping their bodies hard, and fucking young sailors.
Sailor Tim
Tim stroked down the front of his Navy whites and turned this way and that, looking at himself in the mirror on the back of the cabin door of the dorm-like space he shared with nine other sailors on his destroyer. The clothes were tight on his small frame, with a trim, but well-muscled, torso and legs, but they really looked good on him. The jerkin was tight, showing his definition and his small waist, and the white trousers were tight at the thighs and across the crotch and flared at the hem. It was the first time he'd worn them. His first shore leave on his first naval cruise. He was barely nineteen and fresh out of the Iowa cornfields, getting his first taste of the greater world.
His brother was a sailor too, but he'd done everything he could to deter Tim from joining up, saying that with his blond, pretty-boy looks and small stature, he'd be eaten alive on board a naval ship. That had titillated Tim more than scared him, although now that he actually was in the Navy and had just been on the sea on a tin can with mostly randy men, he better understood what his brother had talked about.
The hedge on the men who had initially circled around him like sharks on the prowl, however, was sitting on a bunk beside him, watching him dress and admire himself in the mirror.
Big Ralph, named that for many reasons, including his bulk, his scare factor on board, and his seniority in the naval enlisted ranks, had become both Tim's oppressor and his protection. He was oppressing enough, though, that Tim was elated that he'd gotten a two-day shore pass in San Diego—and that Big Ralph hadn't.
It had been four weeks since Big Ralph had made good on his pledge to protect Tim from the sailors, including a senior ship's officer, who had been chumming ever closer around Tim as he moved around performing the deck duties of a bottom-of-the chain swabbie.
He just hadn't set up the protection the way that Tim had imagined he would. He'd done it by staking his own claim and staring down the competition. Big Ralph had managed to get Tim reassigned to a top bunk in his own cabin and in the darkest hour of one night, had climbed up into Tim's bunk, naked and already crowned and with a bottle of lube.
Tim woke up on his belly, with a heavy body on top of him, a hand smothering his mouth and nose, and thick, greased fingers inside his channel entrance. He had struggled, but to no avail, with the big man. He managed to bite the hand of his assailant in reaction to the surprise and pain of a hard cock entering him, and, when the hand was taken away, he screamed for help against the attack. But he writhed ineffectually, while Big Ralph laughed and pumped his ass with increasing speed and depth. There was no indication that anyone heard him struggling or, if they did, that they cared.
Tim, who had been curious about what it was all about before coming into the Navy, now knew exactly what it was about. No one came to his aid that night, because every other man in the cabin was under Big Ralph's protection as well. They had all had their first night with Big Ralph.
And Big Ralph, indeed, did protect them from others, as long as they were willing to put out for him.
After spending the night on top of Tim and fucking him again in the morning, with Tim realizing that resistance was both futile and a little late, Big Ralph whispered the rules of their relationship to him. Since then Big Ralph had fucked him as many as three times a week, and, as promised, kept all other takers at bay.
