Chad, the Ideal Lad
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
13,247
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
13,247
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about oral and anal sex between a man and a seven-year old boy. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coi
Chapter 3 - The Finest Yankee Jizz
©2009 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Foster reminisces about life as a gay pedophile in the Marines.
.oOo.
Phillip always hated that tattoo. He hated my decision to enlist. I remembered the night I told him.
I had just turned eighteen, and while I did manage to get my GED, at his insistence, we both knew I was in no way ready for college. We had just finished a wonderful fuck and were lying naked in each other's arms.
"Phil, I went downtown this afternoon."
"Yeah? What did you do, buy another game?" The Christmas before he had given me the new Nintendo console. I thought the 8-bit NES was the coolest thing ever and quickly built up a library of cartridges: Donkey Kong Jr., Super Mario Brothers, Tennis, Baseball, even Clu Clu Land. Occasionally he'd play with me, but these artificial sports bored him. He preferred what he called real games. "Come on," he'd say, "let's go out back and shoot some hoops." He probably regretted buying me the fuckin thing and so wasn't excited at the prospect of my wasting money and time on yet some new release.
"No. I didn't buy a game. I, please don't be mad."
"Uh oh. What? I know you didn't wreck the car. Did you get a ticket?"
"Please, Phil, this isn't easy. Just shut the fuck up and listen." He took his arm back, leaned on his elbow and looked at me. "I went to the recruiting station. I, I, enlisted in the Marines. I leave for Pendleton in three weeks."
"Shit!"
Supposedly, America was at peace, but only three years before I enlisted, 220 Marines were killed in Lebanon when their barracks was bombed. The memory was still fresh on everyone's mind. Phillip knew the risk I was taking. He hated war. He had never served himself. Back in college, he even went on peace marches. I always thought, with his body, intelligence, and sense of honor, he would have made a fine Marine.
Yet he knew I had to do this. I had to prove, at least to myself, I was capable of more in life than flipping burgers at McDonald's.
While I was away, I knew when Phillip wasn't worrying about me getting my ass shot off, then he was worrying about me getting fag-bashed. This was a decade before "don't ask, don't tell" and a group of testosterone-filled and liquor-filled Marines would beat up a fellow grunt with little provocation if they suspected he was queer.
At Pendleton Jimmy and I would sneak off to the supply room once a week or so and suck each other off. We each assured the other we were straight but under these circumstances a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. I'm sure he was lying and he probably knew I was also. Our trysts were carefully planned, guarded and quick. We'd go to the supply room separately fifteen minutes apart, lay some keys on the floor by the door so we'd hear if someone opened it, head back to the deep recesses of the room behind the stacks of copier paper, and then blow each other efficiently and passionlessly.
It wasn't enough to just be discrete, I had to blatantly lie outright about all the bitches I fucked. While other guys would moon over pictures of girl friends and wives back home, I couldn't even carry a photo of my lover. "Hey, Foster! How come you never show us your fuckin girl. Aintcha fuckin got one?"
"If I showed you her fuckin picture, you'd be fuckin jacking off to it, you fuckin little perverts!"
"Ha ha! That's fuckin right, Foster! Next time you bang her, give her one big extra ram. Tell her it's from Sly! Ha ha!"
On every leave I got, I flew back to Phillip. Shit, what glorious fast-paced fuck-filled weekends those were!
But then I was sent overseas to the newly completed and renamed Camp Gonsalves on Okinawa. Too far away from Phillip. And Jimmy was still at Pendleton finding some other cock to blow. But there was Sam (at least that's what I called him; his real name was Isamu). He came to the base every day with his grandfather who delivered a truckload of fresh local vegetables to our mess hall. I had the duty of unloading the truck with ten-year old Sam's help. Then Ojisan would leave and Sam and I would go into the store room. As I pulled out my pud and began working it to full hardness, the boy would pull down his pants, and bend over the pile of bags of potatoes, where I would fuck him silly. Every day he got an assful of the finest yankee jizz.
One Friday night, I got an 8-hour pass, and three of my buddies roped me into going into Naha. "Shit, let's get a hooker, rent a room and gang bang the shit out of her. What d'ya say, Foster?"
"Sounds like fun!" I lied. "I ain't been fuckin laid in two months now and if my balls get any fuckin bluer, I just might have to fuckin rape one of you guys."
"Whoa!! Ha ha! Come on, guys, we gotta get Foster to a fuckin pussy fast or he'll turn fuckin queer on us! Like Lincoln!" Poor Lincoln got caught with another Marine's cock in his mouth and was dishonorably discharged.
We stopped in a few bars and got tanked, but I kept wondering how was I going to get out of this. In the third bar, they picked up Wendy, a little oriental whore and we headed off to a cheap hotel. Then I spotted the tattoo parlor. "Hey, guys, I promised my girl I'd get a tat. I'll catch up with you in a little while."
"Shit, Foster, don't take too long. It's a long fuckin ride back to camp."
"Don't worry. I won't miss the chance to get my rocks off. See you soon, Sweetie." I squeezed her tit, then put my hand between her legs. "Save some of this for me, you fuckin whore." Then I ran to the tattoo parlor.
I could have gotten a simple USMC, but I was afraid that wouldn't take long enough. So I opted for the whole damn insignia with Semper Fi scrolled along the bottom. I didn't realize how much it would fuckin hurt! Driving back to Gonsalves, the guys described in great detail what they did with Wendy, laughed about what I missed, and how I'd have to make love to my fist now. But they did admire the tattoo.
I felt Chad's little finger again tracing the globe, anchor, eagle. I looked down at him. His face looked so serious. I knew he was thinking about his daddy.
"I think I'm hungry now. I'm gonna go home. See you later, Foster. See you later, Barney."
I felt Barney's tail wag. "Have a good lunch, Chad. Get some meat on those bones." I poked him in the ribs and he giggled, then ran off. Shit, what a beautiful sight, those two sweet little globes bouncing along atop Chad's skinny legs. Would I ever get to see what's under those trunks, I wondered. "Come on, Barney, let's walk down to the dog park, then we'll have our own lunch."
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Foster reminisces about life as a gay pedophile in the Marines.
.oOo.
Phillip always hated that tattoo. He hated my decision to enlist. I remembered the night I told him.
I had just turned eighteen, and while I did manage to get my GED, at his insistence, we both knew I was in no way ready for college. We had just finished a wonderful fuck and were lying naked in each other's arms.
"Phil, I went downtown this afternoon."
"Yeah? What did you do, buy another game?" The Christmas before he had given me the new Nintendo console. I thought the 8-bit NES was the coolest thing ever and quickly built up a library of cartridges: Donkey Kong Jr., Super Mario Brothers, Tennis, Baseball, even Clu Clu Land. Occasionally he'd play with me, but these artificial sports bored him. He preferred what he called real games. "Come on," he'd say, "let's go out back and shoot some hoops." He probably regretted buying me the fuckin thing and so wasn't excited at the prospect of my wasting money and time on yet some new release.
"No. I didn't buy a game. I, please don't be mad."
"Uh oh. What? I know you didn't wreck the car. Did you get a ticket?"
"Please, Phil, this isn't easy. Just shut the fuck up and listen." He took his arm back, leaned on his elbow and looked at me. "I went to the recruiting station. I, I, enlisted in the Marines. I leave for Pendleton in three weeks."
"Shit!"
Supposedly, America was at peace, but only three years before I enlisted, 220 Marines were killed in Lebanon when their barracks was bombed. The memory was still fresh on everyone's mind. Phillip knew the risk I was taking. He hated war. He had never served himself. Back in college, he even went on peace marches. I always thought, with his body, intelligence, and sense of honor, he would have made a fine Marine.
Yet he knew I had to do this. I had to prove, at least to myself, I was capable of more in life than flipping burgers at McDonald's.
While I was away, I knew when Phillip wasn't worrying about me getting my ass shot off, then he was worrying about me getting fag-bashed. This was a decade before "don't ask, don't tell" and a group of testosterone-filled and liquor-filled Marines would beat up a fellow grunt with little provocation if they suspected he was queer.
At Pendleton Jimmy and I would sneak off to the supply room once a week or so and suck each other off. We each assured the other we were straight but under these circumstances a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. I'm sure he was lying and he probably knew I was also. Our trysts were carefully planned, guarded and quick. We'd go to the supply room separately fifteen minutes apart, lay some keys on the floor by the door so we'd hear if someone opened it, head back to the deep recesses of the room behind the stacks of copier paper, and then blow each other efficiently and passionlessly.
It wasn't enough to just be discrete, I had to blatantly lie outright about all the bitches I fucked. While other guys would moon over pictures of girl friends and wives back home, I couldn't even carry a photo of my lover. "Hey, Foster! How come you never show us your fuckin girl. Aintcha fuckin got one?"
"If I showed you her fuckin picture, you'd be fuckin jacking off to it, you fuckin little perverts!"
"Ha ha! That's fuckin right, Foster! Next time you bang her, give her one big extra ram. Tell her it's from Sly! Ha ha!"
On every leave I got, I flew back to Phillip. Shit, what glorious fast-paced fuck-filled weekends those were!
But then I was sent overseas to the newly completed and renamed Camp Gonsalves on Okinawa. Too far away from Phillip. And Jimmy was still at Pendleton finding some other cock to blow. But there was Sam (at least that's what I called him; his real name was Isamu). He came to the base every day with his grandfather who delivered a truckload of fresh local vegetables to our mess hall. I had the duty of unloading the truck with ten-year old Sam's help. Then Ojisan would leave and Sam and I would go into the store room. As I pulled out my pud and began working it to full hardness, the boy would pull down his pants, and bend over the pile of bags of potatoes, where I would fuck him silly. Every day he got an assful of the finest yankee jizz.
One Friday night, I got an 8-hour pass, and three of my buddies roped me into going into Naha. "Shit, let's get a hooker, rent a room and gang bang the shit out of her. What d'ya say, Foster?"
"Sounds like fun!" I lied. "I ain't been fuckin laid in two months now and if my balls get any fuckin bluer, I just might have to fuckin rape one of you guys."
"Whoa!! Ha ha! Come on, guys, we gotta get Foster to a fuckin pussy fast or he'll turn fuckin queer on us! Like Lincoln!" Poor Lincoln got caught with another Marine's cock in his mouth and was dishonorably discharged.
We stopped in a few bars and got tanked, but I kept wondering how was I going to get out of this. In the third bar, they picked up Wendy, a little oriental whore and we headed off to a cheap hotel. Then I spotted the tattoo parlor. "Hey, guys, I promised my girl I'd get a tat. I'll catch up with you in a little while."
"Shit, Foster, don't take too long. It's a long fuckin ride back to camp."
"Don't worry. I won't miss the chance to get my rocks off. See you soon, Sweetie." I squeezed her tit, then put my hand between her legs. "Save some of this for me, you fuckin whore." Then I ran to the tattoo parlor.
I could have gotten a simple USMC, but I was afraid that wouldn't take long enough. So I opted for the whole damn insignia with Semper Fi scrolled along the bottom. I didn't realize how much it would fuckin hurt! Driving back to Gonsalves, the guys described in great detail what they did with Wendy, laughed about what I missed, and how I'd have to make love to my fist now. But they did admire the tattoo.
I felt Chad's little finger again tracing the globe, anchor, eagle. I looked down at him. His face looked so serious. I knew he was thinking about his daddy.
"I think I'm hungry now. I'm gonna go home. See you later, Foster. See you later, Barney."
I felt Barney's tail wag. "Have a good lunch, Chad. Get some meat on those bones." I poked him in the ribs and he giggled, then ran off. Shit, what a beautiful sight, those two sweet little globes bouncing along atop Chad's skinny legs. Would I ever get to see what's under those trunks, I wondered. "Come on, Barney, let's walk down to the dog park, then we'll have our own lunch."
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.