Gay Erotic Stories

Cpl Brown was facing his wall locker as he slowly and carelessly pulled off his PT shorts. Standing in there with him with the door closed I couldn’t help but think that somehow, someway I was being punished by a higher power. Brown was turned to the side and saying something to me as he started to pull out his cammies (Camouflage Utility Uniform) and boots so I really couldn’t see everything, but what I was taking in only made me that more excited. Sure I had been to boot camp and seen guys naked before plenty of times but I guess actually working for it and being allowed to makes it so much more satisfying. I was mesmerized by his body! His legs were long, lean, and tight. His ass was muscular but very round. I could see because of the way his waist was turned the dimples right above the cheeks. Brown was pulling on some boxer briefs now so had no problem facing me as he got dressed, right before he pulled them all the way up though I got a glimpse of his pubic region and a bit more! ‘Alright! A shaver!’ I thought to myself. “PRICE!” “Y…Yes Cpl?” “Damnit man can you hear?” “Yes Cpl.” “So why the hell are you just now answering me? I called your name like 5 times!” “I…I was thinking about something Cpl.” “Whatever, so…” There was an awkward silence for about 5 seconds. In that moment I realized that Brown had asked me a question but I had been too busy ‘star gazing’ to hear it. I tried to think of anything to get me out of this but my brain to a shit at that moment. His brow furled and eyes got narrow. ‘Holy shit’ I thought, this is going to be fun. We both snapped are heads towards the door as it started to open.

“Good morning SSgt. (Staff Sergeant).” We both said in unison. SSgt. Fisher was the platoon’s Radio Chief. He had been in about 8 years and was zoning for Gunny (GySgt. Or Gunnery Sergeant) so it was safe to say he knew his shit. He was about 6’2 and country as hell. I could tell he was from one of those confederate states because of how hard he drawled and still don’t understand why someone with as thick an accent as his would take a job that is about 70% talking. I quickly switched my attention to his eyes; I had never seen that shade of blue on a person. His overall frame was funny to me, like he had been through a taffy pull. For some reason his arms and legs seemed lanky and out of proportion to his body. Still he was nice. “What’s goin’ on gents?” “Nothing much SSgt.” He looked me dead in the eyes “Can I help you?” “I’m okay SSgt.” I said kinda nervously “Well why the hell are you here then son?” “Cpl Brown called me SSgt.” “SSgt. he’s one of the new guys.” Brown cut in. “Oh that’s right, 4 of you right? Well welcome to the platoon. Where you from?” “Port St. Lucie, FL SSgt.” “No shit huh, I got folks down in West Palm Beach.” SSgt. went into a little story that I just nodded to and smiled when he started to walk out he stopped suddenly and looked at Brown. “Hey Cpl. Brown I thought these guys were coming here this morning.” “Oh they got here yesterday so we got them then SSgt.” “When the hell was this, we didn’t get off yesterday til at least 1800.” “Yes SSgt. we got them right after work.” SSgt. looked right at me and with his smile gone asked “Are you guys all checked into the BEQ (Bachelor Enlisted Quarters/Barracks)?” “Yes SSgt.” “And the Company Office?” “Yes SSgt.” I wasn’t sure what was going on but I had a bad feeling. SSgt. looked over at Brown then back at me. “Step outside Price.” I left the office and as soon as I cleared the door I heard SSgt. bellow for all the NCO’s to come see him. As the door closed I had no doubt that they were getting there asses chewed for going against SOP (Standard Operation Procedures) and picking us up so late. I felt kinda bad even though it wasn’t my fault, I mean I thought that Brown was an ok guy and didn’t like to think of him getting yelled at. Still the thought of Sgt. Burns standing at parade rest was appealing to me.

We spent the rest of the day mostly checking in and doing paper work. Running all around the camp we got our medical and dental records turned in along with getting issued rifles. “Oh fuck yeah”! Me, Kelly, and Singer all just stared at PFC Anthony; the fourth of our little newbie group, as he was smiling ear to ear at the bared window of the armory. “Whadaya have a boner for now Amp”? Kelly said laughing, the rest of us with smiles. Anthony was just so hyped up about the military all the time. “I got my fuckin’ gun! That’s what”! “Oh my god! Price…Singer, Anthony’s been issued a M16”! “Shut the hell up!” I was joining her in teasing him now. “Are you telling me that we have all been in the Corps roughly 8 months and we’re about to get issued weapons?!” “So just out of curiosity Amp, what was that thing that you got issued the second day of boot camp?” Singer asked. “Or the second day of MCT?” Kelly asked. “A M16A2.” He said it like he was gonna end the sentence with ‘duhhh.’ “Well hell then I guess we’ve just come back to the beginning of the conversation then.” “I don’t know about yall, but I have never seen or fired an A4 before.” “Really, so when you qualified on the… a what?” Cpl Exum was with us now and she answered the question on our faces. “In the fleet we used M16A4’s. We just got them so we’ll all be going to the range soon to BZO (Battle Sight Zero or firing a weapon and adjusting the sights specifically to your eyes so that what you shoot at dies. Everyone’s is different and different for each type of weapon) them so when we get a chance you’d better clean them.” We all were inspecting our rifles now and I noticed a nice amount of oil coming out of the crevices. “Cpl it looks like they’re clean enough until we fire them.” “That’s packing grease Price. Try and shoot with that shit all over your rifle.” “Roger that Cpl.” Exum was right; if we didn’t clean and coat these with CLP (Weapon Cleaner/Lubricant/Protector) it would be very bad and embarrassing if we tried to fire them. We headed back to the shop to see that everyone was cleaning up and getting ready to go home. With all our papers put up we picked up brooms and started to help. I looked at my watch and saw that it was only 1515, this was odd because we usually got off between 1630-1700 and shop clean-up was the last thing we did. We were finished now and all just standing by in one of the lager bays. “Whadaya think is up P?” “Damned if I know Kelly, this place seems to be just one big gaggle fuck after another.” “Do you all way have to see it as half empty Mr. Price? I’m sure there’s a method to the madness and you know the old saying, ‘there’s a silver lining’ and all.” “Damn your just full of them huh?” She pushed me and since I was kneeling I fell over laughing.

“I’m sorry are we interrupting you PFC….” I stopped laughing and noticed everyone was quiet. Looking up the only thing that filled my vision were two silver bars and 2 sets of chevrons both with three stripes going up and down. “Well what’s your name PFC?” The Lt. asked “price…” “STAND UP!” “SOUND OFF!” The platoon shouted in unison. Jumping to my feet and projecting my voice now “Price…PFC Price sir.” The MSgt. (Master Sergeant) just stood there with a wry smirk on his face a bit behind the Lt. “The Boots…uh new Marines sir.” He corrected himself. Boot was a term for anyone new but more specifically for new joins or when you get promoted to a new rank i.e. boot Cpl, Sgt. It’s really not done on the SNCO (Staff Non-Commissioned Office/anyone above the rank of Sgt.) level except to Lt’s who get their 1st Platoons. “Oh, where the rest of my new Marines at?” At that point I got a bad feeling in my gut. As Anthony, Singer, and Kelly stood up I could see the same ‘DAMN!’ look in their eyes. “Hey guys I’m Lt. Nelson, your OIC (Officer In Charge). I’m pretty sure that we’ll have more time to talk but let me introduce MSgt. Lawson your SNCOIC (SNCO In Charge).” The sir kept on talking but I wasn’t listening. I had just embarrassed myself in front of the two most important people in my platoon. No one in the shop could tell MSgt. what to do and all had to and would follow his orders without hesitation, everyone except the only commissioned officer in the platoon. Lt. Nelson was the man in charge, at least in the platoon and even he was smart enough to listen to the years of experience from MSgt. “But we’re really gonna need you guys to shine tomorrow. GTG (good to go)?” “Yes Sir!” The four of us said. “Good. Top you got anything?” MSgt. just shook his. “Alright then everyone go home and be at the parade deck tomorrow at 0430.” We all stood up to leave and as I was heading for the door I saw Burns out the corner of my eye coming for me. “Hey let me get all the NCO’s outside.” Top said. With that window I walked out of the shop and up the hill to the barracks.

The next day was pretty eventful to say the least. I was pissed that we had to be up so early for PT and that we couldn’t wear sweat shirts for uniformity purposes, but in the end I was pretty up lifted. We started a 15 mile run with news crews following for Toys For Tots. What began at our camp ended at Oceanside Harbor. After we were done with the run we had little games set up like tug-o-war, dizzy-izzy runs, blind weapons assemble, and other fun games with the civilians around up betting which teams would win. I would find out much later that all the money we collected went toward feeding unfortunate families. I still felt amazing that I was able to contribute to helping other. After PT was done we were all bused back to our camp. I learned from talking to Cpl Exum that Camp Pendleton is the camp that we were stationed on, but within the camp there are smaller bases also called camps which are designated by an area number and name. We were on the 32 area Camp Rosaria. We got back to our area and went straight back to the parade deck. When we got off our Lt. and MSgt. were waiting for us. “Alright everyone bring it in!” We all formed a semi circle around our bosses. “Listen up Marines, it’s the holidays and I know that some of you might be feeling down.” The Lt. was talking. “Keep in mind that if you feel lonely or that things are a little more than you can bear, you can call me…” The Lt. was doing the standard safety brief before we went on libo (liberty) and at this point it was annoying but necessary. When Top started it was mostly the ‘Don’ts’. “Don’t drink and drive, have a designated drive, don’t go down to Tijuana without asking, don’t get into any fight’s, if your under 21 don’t drink, if your gonna have sex have safe sex, if your gonna have sex do not have ‘the same’ sex!” The last part made me smile inside. After they were done they finally let us go. We all were still in PT gear and even though a Marine Corps uniform, you are not allowed to go inside the PX, 7 Day Store, Mess hall, or BAS (Post exchange i.e. store, Package Store, Battalion Aid Station i.e. medical) while still wearing it. With that in mind we all headed to the barracks.

I walked in my room, stripped, turned the heat to full blast, and started to unlock my wall locker. Having two roommates like most Marines rank Pvt-LCpl (Private-Lance Corporal) left for very little privacy, but one was still working and the other had already gone home for leave which gave me the room for a bit. I shivered in the freezing room as the gentle hum of the heater worked to change the ambient temperature and started to head for the shower. As the water dripped from my face and slid down my body I couldn’t help but lean my head against the wall. This was now from frustration or sadness but from being so damn tired! It had been a long two days with moving down to Pendleton and the PT we did this morning. One comforting thought was that neither myself or any of the other guys had fell out of the 15 mile run we did; one of the perks of being fresh from school and PT’ing everyday in the high mountains and thin air of 29 Palms was that we were in real good shape. I stepped out and the first thing I notice was something that I discovered about 2 months ago and knew I could never live without again, a full-length mirror! I was still naked and saw something out of place. Touching underneath my left lower rib I winced in pain as pressed to hard against the dark coloration there. “When the hell did I get this bruise?” Then I remember the MCMAP (Marine Corps Martial Art Program) training me and Singer did the night we got here. “Note to self Price, stop sparring with guys bigger that you!” It then occurred to me that even in my thoughts I’m referring to myself by my last name. Dismissing that I started to take myself in. Turning ever so slightly at each angle to get a full picture I was not impressed. At 5’11 and 175lbs with only 5% body fat most people would say I had a bad ass body. My chest was broad with lats and the upper back to match. I had a natural and very defined cut at my torso with an 8 pack so tight you could wash laundry on it. One thing I always got made fun of because was the fact that my fore-arms have always been really developed, not Popey-ish, but enough to notice with the Bi’s to back it up. “At least I have a dick on me…” I said aloud but still despondent. Although at that time I had never measured it, I knew from jacking off that it was more than two fists full and that normal condoms hurt. My face was really square, I had a nice jaw line and strong chin. Although considered Black I knew my features came from one of my grandfathers. Both of them were illegal immigrants from the Caribbean and I knew that’s where I got my complexion. By choice I kept my skin dark; a healthy mocha, it was something I had to work at however. For some reason I wasn’t liked for my like skin or curly hair back home. I usually stayed bald up until now, I just stated to grow it back.

I kept up this self berating tugging on my oh so full lips and smoothing over my thick naturally shapely eyelashes. I know I should have been proud of the way I looked especially since I’ve always been athletic and the Marine Corps just gave me a chance to get cut as hell, but within the last month I have not been able to exercise the way I want to. I usually ran at least 6 miles a day and swam 20. I would hit up the gym for about 2 hours and finish of with some sparring. Not lately though. I mean you know your body and you know when you’re not looking/feeling right and that is definitely the way I felt now. A knock at my door shook me out of my thoughts. “Just a sec.” I said pulling on a pair of gym shorts. When I opened the door I saw someone who looked very familiar. “Hey Price, me and Lisa are going to the mall in about an hour. Wanna come with us?” By the look on my face he must have guessed I was confused. “Oh hell you probably don’t remember me…Jarvis, LCpl Jarvis? I’m in your platoon?” “Yeah, I’m sorry.” I met Jarvis for a brief moment. He was on a working party and stopped by the shop to pick up his mail. He stopped and talked to the four of us for a minute. “Sure, I actually need to get some stuff.” “Yeah, I figured you guys might wanna get off base for a bit and learn your way around.” “No shit man. Hey you look dressed, why are we waiting?” “Lisa.” “Is she that bad?” “She’s a woman.” I laughed at that. “Where are you from Jarvis?” “Mississippi.” “Oh, a Po-dunk huh?” “What?!” He threw one of my pillows at me that I easily caught. “Damn I guess that’s how they raise ‘em down on the ‘Big Mud’!” I drawled for effect. Reaching to pick up the pillow I never saw or heard Jarvis get up to put me in a cross-bar. The first thing I thought was ‘damn he’s pretty strong’. Looking at him it was obvious he played football in school. He had the chest and shoulders for it but was still tall and somewhat narrow. Not having time for this little test of who’s dick is bigger I decided to bring this little show to a end. Looking into the mirror I got his attention and he looked as well. I put up my free hand and said “Watch this.” Wiggling my fingers. “Off switch!” and very normally but swiftly reached down and grabbed his sack. Now any place else this would be considered homosexual in nature and break un-godly amounts of sexual harassment laws. But this being the Marine Corps he simply backed off in pain and called me a bitch. “I win Po-dunk!” “Fuck you!” He said laughing “I should call PMO (Provost Marshalls Office/Military Police) and have them Stonewall your ass!” I bust out laughing at this but about 5 seconds later I stopped, realizing Jarvis wasn’t laughing. “So you think that shit is funny huh?!” It suddenly dawned on me the joke he had just told and the response I had given. “I guess yo ass is a ‘friend of Dorothy’ too!” My heart was racing now and I could feel the bullets forming at my brow. I had heard of the early military “witch hunts”. Supposedly one of the code words gay military members would ask each other was ‘Are you a friend of Dorothy’. I knew I was about to find out how friendly she was.