TURNED OUT ON A BET, PART 4
Of hot rods and men
I was scared. Wait a minute, brave soldier! The whole plan was to disconnect from Kovachek, anyway! All I have to do is go through with the plan, team him up with Major Cadbury, and (gulp!) all my troubles will be over.
A cold wind blew through the room. Everything so far required only a little political maneuvering and a lot of physical sweat. Matchmaking two "thinks-the-other-is-straight" senior-ranking sol
TURNED OUT ON A BET, PT. 3
In which the best-laid clans of men often go astray
The Seventh-Inning Stretch
How does the saying go?--The balls have reasons that reason itself knows not of? I was in a funk. Mess hall coffee tastes even worse when your head spins with an impossible scheme. It was a simple question, really: How do I stretch the asshole of an unsuspecting sergeant? It's not something simple, like askin
Too much of a good thing?
After kissing First Sergeant Kovachek--a very crotchy, locker-room tasting smooch since he'd been sucking his own jockstrap while I fucked him--I rolled over, all fucked out. I pulled the dripping-wet sheet over us both and we fell asleep. I planned to wake up after a short nap for more fucking--but both of us were more exhausted than I thought. We slept all night in a wet swamp of two men's sweat, drool, and cum.
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