Wednesday, 1 January 2014
Fiction: Military Delivery
Being a long distance trucker means long stretches on the road away from home, but I get to see some interesting places. Holding military clearances, I’m often delivering to government and military bases; sometimes food or supplies, sometimes more specialist items.
I’d finished my run, and delivered my cargo at a military base in the middle of nowhere. My driving hours were done for the day, so an overnight in my rig before returning home. It’s a home away from home – the cab having a couch come bed, TV/DVD, and some storage – comfortable enough. Being my cab, and on the road most of the time, I’d made a few ‘modifications’ of my own. D rings in strategic places, and a few other toys.
It was early evening, so I explored the open areas of the base, to find an outside gym. Keeping fit on the road can be tough, so I took the opportunity to do some runs, push ups, pull ups. I’m 6 4, about a 48” chest, 34 waist, and dark hair, often with stubble from a few days away. My biceps, pecs and abs are defined, as I watch what I eat, supplement my diet and work out whenever I can. Even the back of an empty truck can be used to do pull ups, push ups and cardio work when it’s empty; and it also kills time when on the road.
While doing my last set of chin ups, a squad of soldiers passed me, in full combats, boots crunching on the concrete. Perhaps 12 of them – I let myself take a good look – 12 sets of tight uniforms and exhausted bodies – I recognised the emblems as military police. None of them looked like new recruits – I was guessing they were all experienced officers, keeping their fitness up to date. They were being ordered around by another man who was wearing combat pants, boots, and a physical training instructor vest. It looked like this man was commanding respect, his wide back showing off a fantastic torso, defined pecs and enormous arms and shoulders. Shaven headed, but a mass of dark chest hair, I idly let my mind wander as to what I could do with a cargo of 13 military cops, all with their own cuffs...
It’s easy to get horny on a military base – lots of testosterone, lots of men, lots of uniforms, shared facilities. The hard on I’d developed was pushing against my sweat pants; I was horny and looking forward to tossing off to the image of my squad cuffed and stuffed.
The PTI looked as if he was dismissing the men, I caught him bellowing “Monday 8am sharp”, after which they seemed to fall out, presumably to rest and recover. The PTI didn’t seem to be following them, but headed towards the ‘open gym’ area I was using. As he casually passed, we made eye contact, he nodded at me, and went to performing some sprint runs. As I continued my exercises, I had perfect view of his tight combat covered ass sprinting back and forward. I purposely slowed down my reps and increased my rests to take in the view.
He was tall and muscular, perhaps a little shorter than me; but there was something about him I just couldn’t take my eyes off him. Perhaps it was the long legs and tight ass – perhaps a combination of the whole package; uniform, muscle, boots, and status.
Finishing his sprints, he came across to where I was performing my pull ups, nodded again, and started doing push ups. First with narrow hands, and then with wide hands; narrow feet and wide, I was enjoying watching his biceps flexing and extending during each rep. From my position slightly behind him, the wide legs position gave me the opportunity to admire his ass - tight, damn; there was the hard on again. It was a shame everything about him gave the impression of being a top.
After performing my own multiple sets, my chest and arms were pumped up, and I needed to stretch out and cool down. I was also worried the hard on I was now sporting was going to end up getting noticed. Dropping down from the bar, he was just changing position to join me.
“Haven’t seen you before – but you work hard – impressive – you with the SF temporary posting?”
I flashed him a smile, and was mildly amused at what he’d suggested. While I’d go as far as saying that I was a muscle guy, I don’t think I was tough enough for Special Forces. Now a group of those willing (ish) guys in the back of my truck would be a fun night...
“Haha, no. Civilian. I deliver your stuff in my truck. But thanks for the compliment. I’m just here for an overnight stop this time round”.
“You just looked like you belonged in uniform. There are showers for officers in that block, if you need to freshen up after your workout. Or communal showers in living quarters there.”
“Yeah, thanks, used to being on the road, communal is fine with me.” I would have been happy to shower in either place – so long as it was hot and clean. Showering with a group of 12 soldiers didn’t seem like a bad idea either, or even my new uniformed acquaintance.
We chatted more as I finished stretching and he continued working out; conversation moving to what I was doing to kill the rest of my evening. Being that the base was fairly large and fairly isolated, there was an onsite bar, which he told me I was welcome to use, or an officer’s bar if I preferred. I asked him which he preferred – the normal bar “so I can be with my men”. That sounded like it suited me fine. Now stretched out, and not able to stretch our conversation out any longer without reason, I thanked him, and headed back to my rig for my towel and change of clothes. Communal showers it was to be…
The showers were deserted once I got there, and the hot shower felt good, and soon enough I was refreshed, and changed into clean workwear pants, combat boots and old t-shirt.
After a bite to eat, I finished my day’s paperwork, and headed across to the bar he’d been telling me about. Finding it easily from his good directions, the bar was larger than I expected, with plenty of room. Sitting at a bar stool, I got myself a drink – cheap too. The barman was friendly enough, in between an argument with his girlfriend by text message (he told me all about it blow by blow). It was entertainment. There were a few groups of people around, some in uniform, others not.
I noticed my guy from earlier sitting with one of the groups all in uniform – I couldn’t tell if they were the rest of the squad from earlier or another group. Once again, we made eye contact and nodded at each other. He came to the bar and bought the guys he was with a round, and also came over to me, smiled, and handed me another drink before returning to his seat. He was just as handsome as I’d remembered from earlier, this time, in full combats, and highly polished boots; the uniform bulging around his muscular frame.
Browsing the Internet on my iPad and sinking a few beers, I caught up on e-mails and the latest news, and noticed the group around my muscle trainer making a move to leave. Rather than go with them, he came and joined me at the bar.
“They’re going into the city to a club – let them have their fun. No interest to me, nor appropriate. Another?”
“Course not. Yeah, fine; but my round”. This gave me a far better chance to scan him over.
He had the most piercing blue eyes I’d seen for a long time, and his uniform was the tightest over his muscled frame. Parts like his legs and arms made it look like the uniform was painted on. When he leaned, his camouflage BDU strained over his back and arms, showing off his size to full effect. Facially he had a square jaw and strong features; with hair shaved; clean cut but with a rough looking edge. I liked the way his BDUs tapered down his legs and tucked into well polished high black leather boots.
I’d lie if I wasn’t a little disappointed when he started talking about his ex-wife, but still; he was nice eye candy. The friendly conversation went on, and he asked me about my relationship status and if I was married. “Nah, always preferred men to gals”. I expected a reaction and our conversation to end, but it didn’t seem to phase him.
Conversation continued; and I was enjoying his company – not only was he pleasing on the eyes, but he was entertaining, with a few war stories and seemed a nice guy. The road gets boring sometimes.
“So, back to the rig after this for the night?” By this point, I’d stopped drinking liquor while he’d kept on with beer and a few shots. As he spoke, he reached out and tapped me on the top of the thigh, and ran his hand down to my knee. It was just a drunken moment – but his hand lingered there..
“Yeah, probably a piss then a cigar on the way back.” It was a shame this company had to end.
“Can I join you for some smoke boss? And perhaps make use of me?”. There was no question about signals this time, he moved his hand back up my leg, and ran his fingers over my crotch. It was a good the angle wasn’t right for this to be overseen. Instantly hard, it seemed I was destined to see more of his muscles after all.
“Hmmmm... let’s walk and talk... Wait outside, I’ll pay the bar tab...”
“Yes Sir”. He bowed his head as he spoke, giving the impression of submission, which made me even hotter. I was looking forward to taking him outside and seeing what he had in mind.
I watched him hop down from the bar stool, and head outside. Those tight ass cheeks inside BDU and polished heavy boots suddenly looked even better than before, and even the sound his boots were making was turning me on more. Motioning to the friendly bartender from earlier, it took a few minutes to settle my bar tab and follow outside.
There he was, standing smartly behind a wall, looking just as good in the darkness. A thought crossed my mind as to how good it might be to have taken him then and there; but I understood he probably had a need for discretion. I pulled a cigar out my pocket, and he sprang to attention taking a matchbox out of his pocket, striking it, and offering me a light. I puffed on the cigar, and purposely blew smoke back in his face.
“Wanna spend a few hours with me in the rig then?”
“Sir, Yes Sir!”
“You realise it may involve a little discomfort, and ‘arrest’ of your own; depending on your limits. But nothing permanent or unsafe” I blew smoke into his face again.
“Sir can use my body and mind or anything he wants, until he has to leave tomorrow. This military slave especially likes heavy bondage, rough, interrogation, piss and breath control; and doesn’t often have the opportunity to serve”.
I explored his interests a little more, and found we were well matched.
“Then you’re my property until 7am. Open…”. I tapped the cigar, and dropped the now building ash onto his tongue, to which he swallowed, and barked “Thank you, Sir”.
We walked to the area in the base where the rig was standing. Grabbing my keys, I took two large bags of toys from my cab, and motioned him to the back trailer, also giving me the opportunity to enjoy the view, and sound of leather boots creaking. Climbing aboard, I pulled closed the rear shutter door, and padlocked it closed from the inside. The trailer was empty, having been cleared of my earlier cargo.
Pushing him by the back of the head, I bodily pushed him against one side of the truck, nose to the wall. “Hands on back of head, legs wide”. Compliant, he assumed the position, his hands on the back of his head – emphasising his broad back, and tight uniform. With one boot, I kicked his boots wider, and pulled them away from the wall about 18 inches. Now in a stress position, his two tight ass cheeks spread wide, I kept one hand on the back of his head, pushing him against the wall; and moved my other down his back, feeling the muscles under the uniform, exploring every inch.
Reaching round the front of his chest, I slid my hand into his uniform, and explored the chest. I found one of his nipples, ran my fingers through the chest hair and squeezed hard; he didn’t make a noise. Sliding down his chest, I ran my fingers over his abs – they were rock solid - and then down to his crotch. His uniform was tight, but I felt a raging hard on, and what felt like a good pair of low hanging balls. I cupped them, squeezed the length, and gave them a slap. This time I increased the weight until he groaned followed with a “Thank You SIR”.
Changing position, I started from his waist down the outside of his BDU pants and ran my hands over his tight ass cheeks, spreading them wide and rubbing my finger up past his hole. Tight, firm and muscular, I was looking forward to using it that night. Moving towards his shiny black leather boots, then to his inside leg, I reached through and traced a line from his cock under his balls and back up his ass to his waistline.
Very happy with my new toy, I took a nitestick out my toy bag, and ordered “Down on your knees”, and lightly tapped the back of his knees with by nitestick. His legs buckled forwards, and there was just enough room for him to drop to his knees, still with his hands on the back of his head.
Turning him slightly, I planted my boot in the middle of his back, causing him to lose balance, and fall forwards onto his front. From my toy bag came a pair of wrist to ankle hand/leg cuffs, I pulled one of his wrists behind his back, and snapped the ratchet closed around his wrist. Next came the other wrist. Lifting his booted ankles, I snapped a cuff around each, and then connected his wrists to his ankles with a padlock. Hogtied.
Taking a rubber hood from my toy bag with blacked out eyes and an attached breathing tube, I knelt down in front of him, took the cigar from my mouth, lifted his head and again dropped ash in his mouth. Opening the hood, I pulled it firmly down over his face, closed the zip down the back of his head, and buckled the wide collar, finishing it by clicking a padlock through the locking post.
I could already feel precum leaking inside my tight blue workwear pants. Unzipping them, I took the breathing tube and buried it inside my crotch. I felt my military slave taking a breath, and then the rhythm of his breathing changed to longer slower inhalations, taking in my man scent. Pinching the breathing tube, I reduced the air supply slowly and then closed it completely.
“You want my trucker cock to ride your tight military ass boy?”
No answer, but struggling in the cuffs, and as the struggling got more intense, I let the air open again and my scent back into the tube. Again, the breaths became long and relaxed, and I took a long drag on my cigar, and breathed out into the tube, before sealing it closed again.
This time, the surprise of the smoke set my military slave coughing and pulling against his handcuffs, and I stopped his air for longer.
“Ready to beg to be used boy?”
These military cops were tough alright – I kept taunting him over the next few minutes – closing his breath, forcing the smoke, until the cigar burned down.
He said he enjoyed his interrogation scenes – and this one was hot; not every day did I get a muscle stud in my cuffs and under my control. Inside the padlocked rubber hood that had become his prison the scent of rubber, sweat and smoke must have been a pungent mix.
To give his limbs some time to relax, I grabbed him by the boots and one shoulder, and rolled him over onto his side. Once again, tracing my hand down his tight abs, I reached his tight uniform package, and groped his cock and balls through the uniform. A wet patch was starting to form, so I followed the length of his cock and started slowly jerking him to his full length, increasing the speed; I could feel him harden more.
But I had a lot more in store for him before he was allowed to cum tonight.
“Wanna cum boy? Beg for it.”
As I could feel he was getting close, I promptly stopped my stimulation, and let him struggle wildly against the restraints. This time, he moaned inside the hood, and I rubbed my fingers down his ass cheeks and over his hole. After a few minutes of him breathing heavily into the hood, I started the whole procedure again, stimulating him inside his uniform until he was on the edge.
“Shall I plug that pretty round butt of yours?”
The forced smoke and milking were starting to have their effect.
“No… no… no… “
Grabbing his meat once again through his uniform, I rubbed the length of it again, putting pressure on the tip, and pulling back on his balls in the process. Again, as his breathing increased, I took my hands away, and pinched the breathing tube closed.
I continued edging him for what must have been 15 minutes, still not let him shoot his load. By this point, his struggling was getting far more animated, and more vocal. While he was undoubtedly a tough guy, I felt he was close to breaking.
“Wanna cum boy? Ready for your tight ass to get ridden?”
“Sir… Sir… Sir… SIR YES SIR… Fuck me Sir, let me cum”
Success. He’d lasted an impressive amount of time before the arousal and sex hormones running through his body had overtaken him.
Letting his breathing return to normal again, I stoked up and down his ass cheeks, and patted the hood. With my cock now fully released from its confines, I took him by surprise by letting my stream of beer piss flow into the feeding tube. Coughing and spluttering, he quickly realised what was happening.
“Drink it down boy, drink it down like the boy you are”
I kept my stream going, and could see his throat gulping down the hot liquid. If there was any question of ownership before, this was no longer a question. Every drop was taken, to which I was given a satisfying
“Thank you SIR”
After giving him a few moments to recover, I took the keys from my belt, and unlocked the chain releasing the hogtie, uncuffed his hands and recuffed them in front of him. Still hooded, unable to see what was around him, I helped him hobble forward in his legcuffs to the edge of the trailer, where there was a convenient ledge. Leaning him lean onto the ledge, I padlocked the handcuff chain in front of him at waist height, and again kicked his legs as wide as the legcuffs would allow. Again in a prone position, his uniform covered ass exposed and vulnerable.
Taking a leather paddle from one of my toy bags, I swung it back, and swung it to connect with his ass. SWAT! He let out a moan; sounded more out of surprise than anything else. The leg to wrist cuff chain he was wearing making a satisfying metal clinking. Again, I swung back and brought the leather paddle in contact with his ass, increasing the pressure at each stroke. The hard ass didn’t make a sound this time. SWAT! … SWAT!
After what must have been between 15 and 20 strokes, he started to grunt with each stroke.
“Ready to give your ass to your boss, boy?”
Grunt…. SWAT!! … Grunt…. SWAT!!
“Just have to beg for it boy”
Grunt… SWAT!!! I increased the pressure even more… this boy’s butt was going to be sore… SWAT!!!
“Stop.. please SIR….. fuck me SIR…”
True to my word, I put the paddle down, and wrapped my arms around his chest from behind.
“Good boy, you really are a hard ass. “ I could smell the rubber hood, mixed with sweat and piss. I reached down and unlocked the leg cuffs around his shiny leather boots, and then the padlock to his collar. Loosening the hood, and lifting it up off, I was greeted by a smile. I leaned forward, and kissed him – the kind of passionate, intimate kiss which comes from power exchange. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths.
Still handcuffed, I again pushed him forward to lean on the ledge, stood behind him, and rubbed my cock against the back of his BDU pants. Reaching forward, I unclipped his belt, unzipped his fly, and pulled his combats down to his ankles. My military stud was already wearing a green jock, highlighting the curves of his ass, and cradling an enormous cut hardon.
Reaching through his legs, I wrapped my hand round his ballsack, and pulled back between his legs. He let out a low, deep, guttural moan, to which I tugged a little harder. Moving my hand to the top, I ran my fingers across it, before returning to his balls. Precum was now running down his shaft.
Dropping to my knees, I ran my tongue down the center of his ass crack, pulling back harder on his balls as I found his hole with my tongue and started exploring. I could feel the heat coming from his reddened ass cheeks on my face, and smelled musky masculine scent. A tight little hole, I probed it, forcing my tongue deeper each stoke, and tickling his hair. His knees felt like they were buckling a little, and he pulled against the cuffs to try and give his own cock some relief.
I used both hands to pull him further away from the ledge, so there was no hope of playing with himself; and it also served my purpose of my tongue going deeper. At each stoke, there was a half moan, half growl. I took a finger, and pushed against his ring, letting out a louder moan, and my finger disappeared inside.
“SIR YES SIR, PLEASE FUCK MY HOLE, PLEASE SIR”
I rubbered up, and added a few drops of lube to my now manhood, and started rubbing it against my slave’s ass, teasing the head against his hole. His now lubed ass crack between two rock hard ass cheeks looked perfect, as I pushed inside him.
Starting slow, I pulled almost fully out, and slammed back in, getting deeper each time, until the full length was disappearing inside. Still handcuffed, with the humiliation of his combats around his ankles, my military slave had no option but to take it for as long as I wanted. I didn’t want to ride his ass too quickly, as I was enjoying each and every stroke and the image, coupled with the clinking of his handcuffs.
Moaning with each stroke, it wasn’t long before I was ready for my load to be spent. Pulling out and removing the rubber, I ordered “On your knees” again. He knew his job – dropping immediately to his knees, he turned and opened his mouth. Taking my length in his mouth and throat, he coughed as I started face fucking him for my last few strokes. The warmth and pressure from my willing slave soon meant I could hold no more, and feeling my balls tighten, felt the hot stream of my cum fire into his throat. Sucking every drop, and licking me clean, he looked up, smiled, and said “Thank you SIR”. I had to smile back.
After a few moments recovery, I unclipped the handcuffs, but keeping them on, and lifted his uniform pants back up. “Dress yourself, we’re going to my cab”. He fastened his pants, belt, and it was good to still see a raging hard on.
My stud still handcuffed, I took a heavy leather hood from one of my toy bags, and headed to the back of the trailer. Unlocking the rear door, I swung it open to the darkness of the night. There wasn’t a soul around, so I guided him down from the trailer, and we walked to my cab.
Once inside, I unlocked the cuffs, and let his hands free.
He started taking off his boots first, I could smell and hear the creaking of the boot leather. I wondered if perhaps I’d put his tongue to work on mine later. Next was his combat jacket, and T-shirt, exposing his fantastic muscular chest and biceps, covered by dark chest hair, leading down his navel to his crotch. Next, he unclipped his belt, and dropped his BDU pants once again, and pulled down the green jock he was wearing and his cock sprang forward. Now completely naked, he was an impressive piece of man from any angle.
Lifting my sleeping bunk, I lifted out what he must have thought was a mass of leather and straps – as he raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry boy, I look after my property. You’re gonna be sacked down for the night”
Unrolling the leather sleepsack onto my bed, I was hoping he was going to fit. Luckily, I ordered it for muscular guys, so I was hopeful.
“Here boy, put your feet here…” I guided him and swung his feet into the bottom of the sack. Next, sliding his massive biceps down inside the internal sleeves was a bit of a challenge. But they fit. I was going to enjoy him sealed up for the night. Taking the zip from the feet, I zipped it up to the crotch, tucking his hard on away inside the polished leather, then fastening the second zip to the collar.
Next, I fastened the straps round the sack to make it even more secure, and made sure he saw me add a small padlock to each one. Sacked meat.
Completely sealed in, I rolled the sack, and again kissed him, exploring his mouth in a passionate embrace.
“So boy, heavy enough or heavier?”
“Sir, heavier, please, SIR”
I picked up the heavy black leather sensory deprivation hood, and a number of brass padlocks.
“SIR YES SIR”
Without further prompting, I pulled the hood over his face, cutting off all light from the outside world, and pulled the laces tight round the back of his head. With only a small breathing hole, this really was a hood that cut you off from everything. Fastening the tightening straps around the hood, I finally fastened the collar, and clicked it shut with a padlock.
“Night boy until 7am tomorrow…” He struggled and flexed his muscular frame inside the sleepsack; the smell of warm leather, and sound of the leather flexing was incredible. I had a hard on again, and wondered if I should open the back zip in the sack now… or start edging him again…
The only question remained… how long would he last….