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The Marine And Then Attorney Get Hitched

by Billyc


My (now) husband’s big hand on my sweaty arm brought my consciousness up a few levels from the sun and surf induced reverie I was in. “How does it feel, Bill?” Jim asked in a husky voice from the lounge next to mine.

He rubbed my arm just enough to send an electric shock through my body, squarely landing in my balls, as his touch always did. “You keep doing that and everyone out here will see how IT feels, especially in this skimpy suit you talked me into.”

His laugh was deep, and infectious, and I was laughing with him, as I always did.

“Hey, you two, it’s been a week, and you STILL can’t keep your hands off each other!” my now-husband’s snarky nineteen year old son called from the lounge on the other side of me. How he could hear soft talking with his omnipresent ear buds in place was a wonder to me. “I’d say ‘get a room’ but you have one!”

“Whose idea was it bringing him?” Jim asked, louder, his deep rich voice inflaming my nuts even more than before. Everything about him did – every single thing.

“Guilty, your honor!” I said with a laugh.

Perry, Jim’s nineteen year old son, and accompanying us on our “honeymoon” had, in fact, been my idea. His school term hadn’t started yet, and, hell, I had grown very, very attached to him, as he, apparently, had to me.

“I haven’t been confirmed yet, so it’s just ‘Counsel’ or any number of less savory epithets to call me for now.”

Perry snorted. “Yeah, we’re all anxious to have his honor Dad in the house – think of all the speeding tickets and parking tickets we can get out of!”

We all laughed. The news had come in the day before our wedding. We were already on vacation at Jim’s parents’ ‘cottage’ in Massachusetts that Friday, and Jim’s legal secretary had tried his phone and then called the house to get through. Jim was more a nervous wreck than I was at the impending ceremony the next day, and he’d turned off his phone the night before, saying that he was going to do his best to relax.

Jim had been married before. His son, Perry, was the product of that long-over ill-fated marriage, as was his daughter Haley. Haley had been killed in a boating accident when she was twelve, nine years before, and what was left of his marriage had crumbled under the weight of their grief and his mis-matched lifestyle. His wife’s subsequent descent into alcoholism dealt the de jury coup de grace, though it was her death almost two years later that legally ended the marriage. Fortunately Perry and his father both survived and rebuilt their lives close together. And fortunately for me Jim had chosen to right his life choice and live gay from there on.

When Jim got off the phone last Friday on the sweeping patio overlooking the sound, he’d looked stunned, and I worried . . . again. I’d worried initially that his nerves were signs of misgivings about our wedding, about us. Jim had been single a long time, and I’d basically always been single, at least as far as a relationship beyond sex and occasional sports events with a buddy I happened to be fucking every chance I got went. Jim pushed the idea of the wedding, and I had dove into the idea myself. I was wildly, totally in love with and committed to him, basically from our first hookup. I was totally uncertain of any future; he was certain. And he’d drawn me into his certainty.

As our wedding neared, Jim was, increasingly, distracted and jumpy, both things he’d never been before in the almost four months I’d known him. I’d had many troubled moments not knowing, but being so unskilled in relationships I had no idea what or how to ask him what was on his mind or how to give him a way out. Finally Perry – the prodigal son – had intervened and had told Jim that he needed to “get it together, Dad” and had pointed out that “the best thing to happen to them EVER was getting nervous” (yours truly).

Jim had not hesitated and had come at me head-on, asking if I was nervous, if his nervousness was making me uncomfortable and pouring his heart out about echoes from his past, from his first marriage, which he knew then was a wrong move. After a brief confusion on my part about whether he was saying he was, once again, making a wrong move, Jim held me tight and told me that he was making the most right move of his life, and he was just afraid that something neither of us saw coming, like Haley’s death, would enter our lives and shatter it.

I had my own share of life’s unexpected knocks, being retired from the Marines for less than a year. I still awoke sometimes from especially sound sleeps wondering which hell-hole I was in, which hell I was fighting in, which hell awaited me again in consciousness. Waking with Jim had helped quell these sudden disorientations faster than before, but I still did. I’d learned to live for each day during those 25 plus years, and that was how I’d been able to grab hold of Jim’s and my abrupt coupling and promise of a life together. Jim and I were fine after that talk, but he was still nervous . . . and I still, occasionally, woke up not realizing that Jim’s vast king-size bed wasn’t a ditch in Iraq or The Mog.

Last Friday’s call brought it all back. But instead of it lasting and turning into a bigger worry, Jim came to me and said, “I’ve got something to tell you.” We were out there relaxing with Jim’s parents, Bob and Jeanne, all of us enjoying watching Perry out in the distance on the sound wind-surfing. Jim and I had worn out an hour ago, but Perry was still going. “I want everyone to hear this. Mom, will you call Perry in?”

Jeanne picked up a powerful hand-held megaphone that they kept out on the patio fur such needs and called out for Perry to come in because his dad needed to talk to the whole family. When he got up to the patio, still soaked, he came and sat on the foot of my lounge. “If you guys are wimping out on getting married tomorrow, I swear I’ll kick both of your asses!”

“Perry! Language!!!” All four of us admonished. Jim was death on any sort of foul language, and I’d adapted, too.

“Seriously?!” he protested. “Nana, you’re not thinking the same thing? I know they’re not going to tell us that they’re having a baby,” he snorted.

Jeanne flushed a bit, and then we all laughed. I was the one who moved it along. “So, Jim, what then?” I asked, trying to move away from the thought of butt babies.

“It seems,” he started, and he stopped, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“What is it, son?” Bob asked, getting up and moving to put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Well, Pop,” Jim said, turning to look directly at his father, “It seems we might have two judges in the family shortly,” he finished.

And with that, everyone was up and hugging and congratulating whooping and firing ten questions at once. Jim looked more embarrassed than excited, a little taken aback by the attention. When things quieted down I squeezed his hand, which he’d had clenched in mine since the initial hug. “Congratulations,” I said, quietly. Not quietly enough. Glasses were again raised – never let it be said that the Ellises didn’t toast to excess. Jim held onto me with the hand that wasn’t holding the Champagne flute.

“Yeah, yeah,” Perry broke in. “This is where they go off and CELEBRATE alone,” he said with another of his snarky snorts. “So can I get back to the water for a while?”

Jeanne and Bob were smiling at us. “Don’t let us keep any of you while we revel in our son’s accomplishments here.”

Now, a week later, we were legally married under the progressive law of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and we were spending our sixth day on the beach in Costa Rica. And, as Perry had alluded, we’d had a lot of time in our room together while Perry learned to surf and parasailed and we all three had taken canopy tours and explored the Pacific coast.

Jim’s hand was still on my arm, and he rubbed it gently, again arousing me instantly. “I think it’s time for a nap,” I said, quickly jumping up to a seated position with my back to Perry to hide my obvious reaction to his father.

“Told ya,” he said from behind me, and I didn’t need to turn to his direction to know he was smiling.

I walked up to the hotel with a towel dangling in front of me because I was, in fact, hard as steel wanting Jim. We almost made it through the door to our suite when I turned and pinned him to the wall and ground my lips into his as well as my bare torso against his and our groins.

I was fully hard, half of my cock up out the waist of my tony Speedo square cut suit Jim had given me (one of seven, actually, in different colors) for our trip. He loved how my oversized package was unavoidable in them when I was not aroused, and he loved even more getting me embarrassed by my arousal and indecent exposure.

“FUCK ME, husband,” he snarled, groping HARD at my bone and nuts.

“Grrrrrrrrrrr,” was about all I could return in terms of words, but I grabbed him around one shoulder and around one thigh and hefted all two hundred and thirty five pounds of solid muscle that was my husband and carried him over my shoulder to our bed and flung him onto it.

“FUCK YEAH!” he yelled as he bounced on the bed. I was on him ripping his own Speedo off and flinging it away and had his legs in the air and my face buried in his sweaty crack, my tongue already up his needy fuckhole. “OH CHRIST YES!” he cried.

I ate and sucked his fuckhole, relishing the sweat and faint saltiness of the residual ocean water from earlier. Jim’s right hand was thrashing about on the night table and finally got hold of some lube and shoved it into one of my hands which was spreading his cheeks way apart. I came up for air long enough to taunt him: “It’s my husbandly right to eat this hole as long as I want, so you just fucking wait!”

“It’s your husbandly DUTY to FUCK your husband, and as much as I love that tongue, I need your horsecock filling me NOW, damn you!” he shot back.

I reached up and swiped my hand on his cockhead, which was slick with precum, and I felt the puddle he was making on his abs. Yeah, he was ready.

Instead of the lube I scooped up a copious amount of his precum puddle and smeared it on and in his ass, not at all gently. He hissed and moaned as I had three fingers in him. Then I got a handful of my own precum and mixed it with his, by then his hole was slick and ready.

I positioned my huge raging cockhead against his pucker, again enjoying the sight of it, knowing when I pushed inside him he’d open more than he’d ever open before me, knowing he now could take it well and eagerly. Just as I was about to shove into him, Jim shoved himself onto my cock, impaling himself on it with a loud “AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKK YEAH!

As always the heat and tightness of my now-husband’s assgrip around me was overwhelming and took my own breath away in a long “FUCKKK YEAHHHHHHHH” of my own.

“Come on, FUCK ME!” he ordered, and I snapped out of my moment and began to do just that, just the way he liked it. I drilled him hard and deep with long strokes that had my huge tennis-ball-sized head almost out of him before each plunge back into him balls deep. The pace was frenetic – when he wanted it he WANTED IT. He rode me back with every thrust, and our yells and growls and words either of us would admonish Perry for filled the soundtrack.

Jim reached up and pulled our mouths together, and we were sucking each other’s faces again, tongues dueling, lips crushed together as our bodies ground together relentlessly. His big hardon was trapped between our abs, and his precum was a vast sticky patch within the sweat of both our skin together between us, and I could feel him getting closer by the way his cock grew even larger and steel-hard between our abs. “OH GOD, THAT’S IT, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” he shouted just as his ass started to clench and spasm around my pounding cock and his jizz shot up between our sweaty torsos.

And, of course, that took me over the edge, as it always did, and I began SLAMMING into my husband’s mancunt with even more force and my body exploded, my seed blasting deep into him.

When I was finally conscious enough to be aware of anything other than my nuts blasting I realized we were heaped together, a sweaty and cummy mess, me on top of Jim, our bodies heaving, his legs still clenched around me and me still deep inside him. “This is it,” he whispered in my ear.

“Yes, this is it,” I agreed, knowing that this was and is our life, bonded together, mated.

We didn’t get back to the pool that Friday afternoon. Somehow once, twice, thrice wasn’t enough, and it was finally Perry making a fuss at the door about not missing dinner that got us moving in non-sexual ways. We all enjoyed the last day and a half, and we flew home Sunday afternoon, back to Annapolis and our lives and careers and Perry’s university in the UK which starts in another two weeks.

I am a day into “real life” as a husband, never having imagined I would be, much less a husband to a man. Amazing that, as I returned to work today, my colleagues, most of them macho former special forces officers like myself, can’t seem to be more congratulatory and excited for me. And Jim seems to be fast-tracked for confirmation based on what he told me on the phone this afternoon, and neither of us gives a damn if it’s because he’s openly gay and the Administration’s further political statement or just because he’ll be one helluva judge.

Neither of us is particularly excited to have Perry an ocean away, but this was his dream to be accepted to a great school abroad and finish his undergrad there. Cambridge certainly qualifies, and we’ll enjoy frequent – if short, due to our work – trips to visit him there.

And us, well, my condo in the District is still unoccupied, so it makes it easy for us to grab a sex-break when we need it, like after work today. It’s better cardio than we’ll get at the gym afterward anyway!


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40 Gay Erotic Stories from Billyc

A Massage To Remember

Last week - Hilton Head. Was there on biz, and part of the resort's deal for the attendees was spa certs. So I figured wtf and booked a massage. Requested a masseur not a masseuse cuz being a gay man just more comfortable being skin out with men. Handsome late 20s very str8 looking/acting deep-voiced hot-bodied baseball player type. But I figured shit I wish he wasn't so hot because no

A Week Into The Marine's New Life With The Lawyer

A Week Into The New Life Of The Marine And The Attorney“Have a great day, babe,” the hunky, hairy and very well-fucked attorney who now shared my life said in my ear as he hugged me tight and kissed me on the neck.Day nine for us, and it’s probably absurd to hear a retired marine colonel gush about being in love, even more so about falling head over heels at first sight (ok, to be fair,

After the Picnic

Jim, my dark-haired, light-eyed furry musclehunk attorney and I sat eating omelets ravenously and naked at the bar in his incredible magazine-dream kitchen. We’d worked up a major appetite over the previous several hours after meeting at a company picnic. He’d brought me home, and we’d sucked and I’d fucked his brains out, and over again a few times with a shower fuck thrown in between when

Another Massage

The work function which was going to ruin my weekend came with two perks. One was that we were at a really fabulous resort on the west coast and the other was the roommate I’d been assigned was an incredibly hot Navy captain I’d met and had to work to concentrate to speak intelligently. Destined for frustration, sure; but great eye candy!We also had to check in on Thursday afternoon, the

CORRECTED VERSION - The Marine, The Attorney And The Voyeur Yard Man

“See something you like?” His deep voice and warm breath on the back of my neck added to my state of arousal. My hunky husband put his big strong hands on my broad sweat-slick shoulders and ran his hands down over my sweaty bare chest to my nipples as he pushed his hard chest and thighs against me and pulled me back into him tighter. “Not bad scenery on the worst of days, Counselor, but

Dinner and a Week

Dinner. A guy I had worked with a lot when he worked for one of our civilian mega-contractors as their liaison officer. Cameron Bennett. It had been a few years. Should I go? After all, it’s not like we’d kept in touch when he left the company. I think once I actually told him, when someone saw him when we were out for dinner and called him “CB” that it sounded like an old movie studio

From The NOT Brady Bunch To The Marines

“DUDE, your dick is either huge or you got some excitement in the shower!” my brand new Academy roommate said to me.We’d just moved in that day, both new cadets. The a/c wasn’t the best, and we’d worked up a sweat as we unpacked and arranged ourselves. Just after inspection I’d headed for the showers. Turner had flopped on his bunk, stripped to his briefs. He was that way when I returned

Generally Voyeuristic - Part 1 of 2

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!This is not an epic gay fairy tale. There is no happily ever after story, as I’ve now come to know is possible as at that late point in my life I’m living it. This is the story of a hot time . . . in fact a very hot time. If you’re up for some adult male fun, then enjoy. And if you’re a romantic or relationshipist (as I like to call the men who don’t seem to have the

Generally Voyeuristic - Part 2 of 2

THIS IS THE SECOND PART OF A FULL STORY. IF YOU HAVEN’T READ GENERALLY VOYEURISTIC PART 1, PLEASE DO SO BEFORE READING HERE (AS THE HOT PARTS ARE IN PART 1 ANYWAY!).* * * * * * * * * SPOILER ALERT!!!!!This is not an epic gay fairy tale. There is no happily ever after story, as I’ve now come to know is possible as at that late point in my life I’m living it. This is the story of

Hookup (not a true Marine/Lawyer story - just fun fiction)

[This is my first attempt at fiction. It’s based extremely loosely on a true story told to me by my husband about an encounter he had with a famous man over twenty years ago, but it’s really not that story at all. There will be more about him and me and our real life and romance, but for some reason I felt the need to create rather than to recount . . . at least just this one. Hope you enjoy it.

Major Hot

I was posted to the newly created MCSOCOM as it evolved and then MARSOC under the commander at Camp Lejeune. To say Camp Lejeune was a comedown after being at NATO, the French Embassy and some really choice duties would be an epic understatement. On the other hand, to be back in a combat unit was exactly where I wanted to be! And my team wasn’t sitting on the bench much, so the off-times we

Marine Meets The Parents

Jim, my lawyer boyfriend, and I sailed through another week together. I was all but moved into his beautiful beach house which him and his 19 year old son, Perry, who was home from college for the summer. My condo was very useful, however, as it was about fifteen minutes from my office and ten from Jim’s. If you’ve already guessed that we had a few “lunch dates” you’d be right.Friday was

Not Exactly The Brady Bunch Part 2

This is the second part of a series. The first part is not eligible to be uploaded to this site. If anybody is interested in Part 1, email me.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------My eighteenth birthday was on a Wednesday. My mom and my stepfather were both out of town on business. They’d asked if it was OK with me since the

Not Exactly The Brady Bunch Part 3

When I was 20 and in the Academy, my older step-brother Cain came to town for business. Cain had finally gotten a job of his dreams – or secondary dreams, given his first had been to be a pro baseball player, and that hadn’t happened for him – and was on the player personnel staff for a major league baseball team that was in Baltimore for a weekend of games. Cain’s father, my stepfather,

Passengers

Chapter 1 – Long FlightI snuck a look – AGAIN – at the hot guy in the boring off-the-rack suit sitting in the aisle seat to my right. Mmmm mmmm good. The uber-sexy body which I’d noticed when he boarded after me and was maneuvering around getting himself and his stuff situated. That bod moving in his off-the-rack blended weave suit slacks which weren’t made for an ass like that, nor was

Picnic

It was unseasonably hot for Memorial Day weekend – high eighties, humidity higher than normal and making it feel like mid-90s. The almost-hurricane off the coast was signaling is imminent arrival.The picnic was in full tilt. There were well over 300 people enjoying the food, the sports activities, the pool and the beach at the defunct beach club my company had rented for this Saturday

Roger That, Marine!

Sunday tennis with an equally non-penitent recovering Catholic like me. It was a frequent ritual and a bit of a private joke among us that tennis was our version of worship. It was like that with Ames and me, at least since we’d both retired from the Marines at roughly the same time. Oh, yeah, and for roughly the same reason. But that’s another story.This Sunday was the beginning of

The Light Colonel Sweats

I was posted to MCSOCOM (it was to evolve later to MARSOC) under the commander at Camp Lejeune. I’d gotten used to having my home base being the shithole we affectionately (and realistically) called “Camp Swampy” after having most recently transferred from duty at NATO and before that the US Embassy in Paris. Camp Swampy, as sultry and unsophisticated (I almost wrote ‘uncivilized’!) as it was,

The Marine And The Attorney - After the Picnic Day 2

We had more than a quickie in the shower. In fact, what started out as him on his knees blowing me as the multiple jets streamed steamy-hot water over both of us ended up being one of the hottest slamfucks we’d had, him against the tiles with his one leg up on a step and my cock reaming him balls deep as hard as I could without both of us slipping and killing ourselves in the shower. My arm was

The Marine And Then Attorney Get Hitched

My (now) husband’s big hand on my sweaty arm brought my consciousness up a few levels from the sun and surf induced reverie I was in. “How does it feel, Bill?” Jim asked in a husky voice from the lounge next to mine. He rubbed my arm just enough to send an electric shock through my body, squarely landing in my balls, as his touch always did. “You keep doing that and everyone out here will

The Marine Answers THE QUESTION

We were sitting there, both cross-legged, naked, on the bed in my condo, where I didn’t live any longer, after another mind-blowing fucksession. My lover/partner of fifty-five days (I didn’t know the number of days at that point, but I knew it was both new and also that it was amazingly wonderful) Jim, my hunky, hairy, muscular, dark, sexy, smart, loving, exciting,

The Marine Claims A Straight One

“Hey bud, haven’t seen you for a while now; didn’t know you were back,” the sweating stud in the white sweat-soaked sweatshirt with the arms cut out to show off his massive shoulder caps, biceps and triceps said to me, his blonde-furred muscular forearm out to shake hands.Of course I’d seen him the second I entered the gym floor. I’d fought the urge to pop a bone right then and there with the

The Marine Gets A Life . . . maybe

“Jesus Christ I’m sore, Bill,” my sexy new man said, as we headed to the shower. We both stunk of sex. My cum was running down his thigh out of his freshly fucked ass, as his thick muscular furry legs rippled and pumped in front of me as we headed down the hall, and his fuzzy ass-globes bounced. My cock was rock-hard again just watching those mounds of pleasure – and all of him – and that

The Marine Gets THE QUESTION

“YEAH!” my partner Jim’s nineteen-year-old son yelled and pumped his fist in the air after he caught me off my feet with a perfect shot to the baseline just out of reach of my desperately outstretched racket.“Good shot,” I called to Perry across the net. “Forty fifteen,” I called, reminding him he’d been a shot away from losing that game and the set and the match before that last-gasp shot.

The Marine Heads For The Aisle

“Hey, Co-Dad, can I talk to you about something?” My partner (and soon-to-be husband, which positively blows my mind, but then again, even having a wildly hot partner whom I love to and with and from the depths of my being blows my mind), Jim, has a buoyant, brilliant, beautiful (and often bawdy) nineteen year-old son, Perry, who has taken to calling me “Co-Dad”. It made me uncomfortable at

The Marine Meets the Green-Eyed Monster

I was fucking Jim brutally – every stroke HARD, slamming into him. My sweat was flying every time our bodies collided, my huge horsecock relentlessly pounding into his fuckchute. His shouts were louder than ever before, and I had my sweaty jockstrap stuffed in his mouth to muffle him as much as I could, his arms restrained behind him by my hands.“You think that musclebitch at the gym could

The Marine Settles In

I awoke hard, startled. Jim was sound asleep still. I could see by lifting my arm around him enough that it was ten-forty-one. The lawnmower was going out in the back.Jim had been up earlier, as had I. We’d had a wild night – well, no wilder than usual, but since it was Friday night and no work today, a few more times – of sex and play. When we’d gotten up in the We as usual we couldn’t

The Marine Skinny Dips (and Puts On A Show!)

It had been a long and stressful workday. Hell, the three days this week had all been long and stressful. And for no apparent reason, the traffic northeast out to the coast where I was now living in my boyfriend’s lavish home was nightmarish. Twelve hours at the office, starting at six; almost an hour in so leaving at just after five; and then almost an hour and a half coming home. UGH!

The Marine Sweats At Dawn

The Marine Sweats At Dawn.I awoke at 05:35 with a raging hardon, right out of the middle of a HOT dream about my even hotter former French Canadian lover, JP (Jean-Pierre), whom I’d seen the year before again while on a trip back to Paris. JP was about the only recurring stud who visited me in my dreams, his ass always needing another slam-fucking, always his hot swimmer’s body inviting

The Marine's Hamstring Gets A Hot Medic Strung Out - Part 1

I’d got to the medical suite about twenty minutes before the time the doctor had set up for me with his medic who did physical therapy, and the nurse had told me to go from the medical suite in the embassy office building to the gym – in the men’s locker room there was a therapy room, and that was where I was to wait. I went into the small, windowless room – there were some workspaces around the

The Marine's Hamstring Gets A Hot Medic Strung-Out - Part 2/end

At 1839 a soft knock at the door of my quarters had me stopping my pacing and making a beeline for the door. He was even cuter than before, wearing khaki slacks and a green shirt that was roughly the shade of his eyes. He was grinning up at me, just standing there, until I realized I was filling the doorway. I stood to the side, and as he walked in past me he deliberately brushed against me.

The Marine's Hamstring Gets a Hot Medic Strung-Out Part 2

I’d got to the medical suite about twenty minutes before the time the doctor had set up for me with his medic who did physical therapy, and the nurse had told me to go from the medical suite in the embassy office building to the gym – in the men’s locker room there was a therapy room, and that was where I was to wait. I went into the small, windowless room – there were some workspaces around the

The Marine, His PTSD, The Gunnery Sergeant And His Son – Part 1

The Marine, His PTSD, The Gunnery Sergeant And His Son – Part 1I’d just been cycled back stateside after a traumatic deployment, first to Kuwait, then to Iraq. It was my first combat mission, which I’d done everything I could to get. Chalk that up to the arrogant stupidity of my youth.I was welcomed home with open arms, had a great posting and had been promoted. “Captain Cate” had a

The Marine, His PTSD, The Gunnery Sergeant And His Son – Part 2 / Conclusion

I contentedly lay in Ron’s bed after we’d fucked ourselves out, the cords of his muscular arms comfortingly holding me tight, and his chest hair, sweaty and cummy from his forceful eruption, soft against the side of my face. The rise and fall of his of his pecs as he breathed served to lull me into near-sleep. I drifted in his sweaty embrace, inhaling the smell of our sex.I felt safe . . .

The Marine, The Attorney And The Voyeur Yard Man - Deux

We were in Jim’s big, sporty BMW on our way home together, leaving the District. He was driving, as was his preference, though I’d driven in from my office at the Pentagon to pick him up. “Oh, and Clancy called to confirm that his guys delivered the bricks and sent some photographs for me to confirm he’d delivered what we’d chosen.” He picked up his Galaxy 3 off the console and handed it across

The Marine, The Attorney And The Voyeur Yard Man - Part 3

When we woke after our post-fuck(s) nap, it was the middle of the morning. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d slept in until nearly ten. Oh, right – we never had! Sure we were up fucking from just after five until nearly eight, but still, it wasn’t like us to oversleep. Jim held me tight against him, even though we were both awake. “I meant what I said, Bill,” he said, almost

The Marine, The Attorney And The Voyeur Yard Man - Part 4 Oh And The Contractor

I still awoke at dawn despite having fucked, sucked, showered, cuddled and repeated a few times the night and wee hours of the morning before we finally slept . . . some. Jim was sleeping soundly, his almost imperceptible snores, as always, sending bolts of electricity straight to my balls. I had my arm around him, my nose to his neck, and I could smell the sex despite several showers, a

The Marine, The Attorney And The Voyeur Yard Man And The Contractor - Part 5

I still awoke at dawn despite having fucked, sucked, showered, cuddled and repeated a few times the night and wee hours of the morning before we finally slept . . . some. Jim was sleeping soundly, his almost imperceptible snores, as always, sending bolts of electricity straight to my balls. I had my arm around him, my nose to his neck, and I could smell the sex despite several showers, a

The Naive Marine Lieutenant Plays With The NFL

I was on leave and had caught transport to the first place I could find with sun. Turned out to be Tampa. I went to the Grand Hyatt and sort of crashed the pool. OK, I totally crashed it. I wasn’t a checked-in guest, and had no hope of being one on my budget, but I thought the pool would be a great place to enjoy some sun. I was right about that. Not only was there plenty of sun, but there

The Young Marine Takes To The Courts

I was a captain stationed at the American Embassy in Paris when I was twenty-five. I had been assigned to the Ambassador’s personal staff, and he and his wife had taken a liking to me right off. They were going to be attending Wimbledon that year as a guest of one of the Queen’s cousins, the Duke of Kent, with whom the ambassador had served on a UN peace-keeping mission in Cyprus. The

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