Tunnel Vision

By Ian Kovnats (Gaystoryman)

Copyright © 2008 ? All Rights Reserved

Derrick picked his way through the fallen rubble, his flashlight shining in all directions, as he tried to estimate the damage done by the fallen bricks. He couldn’t believe how little there really was, but still, he had to be certain. That, added with being partnered with a new guy, was making it slow going.

Still he couldn’t complain too much. He had Scully working ahead, and was following behind, making sure that nothing was missed. One missed brick, one missed gap in a supporting brick, and next train through could result in something he didn’t even want to think about.

He had been working the line for nearly ten years now. It was an odd job, walking the tunnels, checking for fallen debris, keeping the tracks clear. Strange at how there was always something new to find in the dark tunnels. Like last week it was a pram, stuffed with baby stuff, but thankfully no baby. Still, a few hundred quid of goods, not to mention that the pram was rather pricey looking.

How it got in the tunnel was a mystery, but he never worried about that. He just reported it, or sent it to the depot for safe keeping. Course, there were one or two items he didn’t send along, like the time he found a shaking runaway sleeping in an alcove of the tunnel.

If it hadn’t been for the bright yellow strips of the young man’s vest, he’d have missed him. Still, the 19 year old shouldn’t have been there. One wrong toss in his sleep and he’d be on the rails, which had happened. There had been too many street people killed or worse, maimed, from sleeping inside the tunnels. Least this one had the sense to wear a proper vest. Still, if he had fallen onto the tracks, it wouldn’t have done him much good.

Besides, as he trudged along, he was getting too old for all this. A nice pint, feet up on a stool, the local team kicking ass of the cross town rivals, was all he wanted. His time of shagging everything in sight was long gone, besides not many of the types he liked wanted to do an old geezer like him.

Mind you he didn’t really think he was that old. Sure he had just celebrated his 40^th birthday, but he was still fit. He might have a bit of gray hair, his beard might be a bit longer, but his body was still as trim as it was when he had been playing football at college. His belly was just as flat, his waist still fit nicely into a pair of 28 size pants, and age hadn’t shrivelled up his manhood either. He could still get that old pecker up, and keep it up without any need of pills or other devices.

Still, many of the younger lads looked at him as if he was a grandpa. Like what did they know? That street kid sure was surprised by how good he could be, which is one more reason why he kept his eyes on his new partner. He wouldn’t mind a bit of a rumble with him, given how he looked. Still, Scully was older, not his usual type but he had that look, that certain walk, that just screamed for some of Derricks more desirable sexual needs.

He was the type who liked it hard and a bit rough. Not too rough, none of that real BDSM stuff but still, some of it was okay. Looking at Scully scamper over some fallen bricks, he saw how his buttock moved, and wondered what it would be like to stick his hand between those cheeks, to sort of just spread them apart, and drive his fingers into the warm tunnel.

Scully looked like the type that would not only take it, but want a damn site more than one or two of his rather lengthy fingers. He sure wouldn’t mind accommodating him that need either. In some ways, he rather enjoyed the sensation of fingering, and moving up the scale, until his whole hand was wedged inside a guy.

To be able to feel his rectum contract around his wrist, to feel it shudder as he moved his fingers and balled them up into a fist, always got him close. It was an art too, as not many really knew how to do it right, without causing the wrong kind of pain. He knew how, everyone he did, said so, and many came back for seconds and thirds, so they couldn’t have been telling him any porkers. It had to be the truth.

He wished Scully would be one of those. The guy wasn’t what you would call a looker, and the bald head, the tats, all gave him a rather rough look, that turned many off. Hell, that is what got him horny. To see that bald scalp, the eyes that peered out from under the forehead, all added up to a nice piece. Now if only he could figure out a way to let him know, to see if he’d play his way or not, without getting into trouble.

The street kid had seemed okay, though he did make a beef at the district office afterwards. Maybe he should have given him the ten quid, but hell, he hadn’t asked for it upfront, so he didn’t feel obligated. Besides, he had been trespassing, and he let him go on that, so why the fuss?

Glancing up, he couldn’t see the yellow of Scully’s vest, and he picked up his pace a little, not wanting to lose out on watching his ass move. He was picking his way when he finally spotted the yellow glimmer, that was stationary, and off up on the walk. For a second, Derrick thought he might have found something, so he picked up the pace even more, and as he got closer, he noticed that Scully was leaning forward, sort of.

He was standing with his hips jutting forward, but his head and upper back was leaning rearwards. His feet were spread apart, and as he got closer, he heard the sound of water splattering on cement. Shining his flashlight towards the younger man, he saw the beam sparkle a little, as well as a bit of white. For a moment, it didn’t register, then as he saw Scully turn his head towards him, it dawned on him what was happening.

The guy was taking a whiz, and he had missed most of it. He felt like he had just been cheated out of something good, as he came closer. Derrick also noted that the sound of pee hitting the ground had stopped, yet Scully was stationary. His body wasn’t moving, nor was he rushing to turn his back, to hide his exposed genitals.

As he walked up, he notice Scully staring at him. It was strange, but it was almost as if he was waiting for him, wanting him to catch him with his pants down. And down they were too.

Coming closer he noticed that Scully hadn’t just unzipped, but had actually dropped his work pants. He could see his pale skin casting its glow in the darkness. The yellow stripes on his vest adding to the optical illusion. Still, he felt a lump in his own crotch, and reached down to adjust it. Naturally he used the hand holding the torch, and there was mistaking the way Scully followed the beam directly to Derricks groin.

This might work out, he thought as he climbed up onto the thin walk, to make it easier to traverse the distance. He couldn’t help but notice how the eyes kept their focus on him, kept watching him, yet also glancing down long enough to keep checking his package out. It was all rather hot, exciting, in a way he hadn’t experienced for some time.

He was a bit surprised when he finally stood next to Scully. His dick was still hanging out, but it certainly wasn’t limp. Hell, it looked like the banger he had for lunch, so thick, so full of hot juice. Derrick couldn’t help but lick his lips as he stared, which brought a bit of a sly grin to Scully’s dirt covered face.

It was the eyes that did it for him. They opened wide then narrowed as they stared down at Derrick’s own bulging crotch. He got the message, and undid the pants, suddenly feeling like he had an urge to pee. Just like Scully, he didn’t just unzip, and dropped the work pants and shorts to his ankles. He stepped closer, and turned to look at the wall.

It was odd, but he took hold of his penis, to aim it at the wall, when he felt Scully shuffle closer, then he felt the brush of the man’s vest against his own. It sent a chill up his spine, as next he felt a hand reach back, to run alongside his exposed buttocks. Derrick felt his body shaking, as the hand moved along his cheeks, then across.

As he dropped his hold on his cock, Derrick turned his face, to stare at Scully, who was peering back at him. He saw the wrinkles outlined by the dirt, the dark patches near the nose, and under the chin. Somehow, it all looked so inviting, that he reached across, to take hold of Scully’s still exposed cock.

He heard a small little murmur, then he felt the cock jerk, felt it thicken just a bit, then the sound of water made him glance downwards. Derrick felt himself tremble, as he saw the stream of liquid pouring out of the blood gorged penis. It was amazing, as he felt the splatter on the back of his hand, and even on his exposed thighs. The warm pee startled him a little, but it also got his own cock thicker, as he stared down at it. As he did, he felt the hand move off his bare buttocks, and reach around to take hold of it.

The touch of Scully’s hand wrapping around his cock made him moan a little, which also made Scully move even closer to him. It was so tentative at first, that it felt like his first date. Both scared shitless, as they began to explore the other, not sure what either wanted, or were willing to do.

He let his own body shuffle closer and his hand began to move, to touch and explore the exposed body more, and each time he took hold of Scully’s cock, he felt it jerk and spurt out some more golden liquid. The guy had the most amazing control over his body, it was breath taking. To just touch him, to feel him spurt, was making him feel very aroused.

The smell too was intoxicating. The mixture of pee, of sweat, of the dank tunnel itself, all helped to make him feel daring. A quick glance up, then he moved his hand around, twisted his entire body so he could look at the other man’s backside, at those cheeks he had been dreaming about. They were even more arousing, close up & naked. The flesh was firm, as he ran his hand over them, then in a flash, he let go of a hard whack, to see them jiggle, to hear the sound reverberate through the tunnel.

Scully didn’t flinch too much, instead he leaned forward, his arms now outstretched to rest up against the cold brick wall in front. He shuffled backwards a step or two, then spread his legs a bit wider. It was pure heaven for Derrick, who moved around to stand behind the younger man. The sound of his belt dragging on the cement echoed, until he was finally behind, able to gaze fully at the bare buttocks.

Scully held them out, making them even more inviting. Derrick couldn’t resist, as he let his hand move over the twin mounds of flesh, then one finger slipped down the valley, to feel the moist tender skin. It was like a small little spring, the wetness, the smooth valley and then his finger found the spot.

It was puckered and shaking as his finger moved around, circling the tight mound of flesh wedged between the hills of Scully’s buttocks. He breathed in deeply as his finger explored the protruding ridges of the tiny hole, expertly making it shake, making it pucker even more. He could feel the tension, feel the excitement building, as he played around, lost in the moment.

Derrick paid not attention to anything around him. His finger moved around, in a tightening circle, then it hovered, just lightly touching the centre of the lovely tingling hole. He could feel it vibrate to his touch, making his head break out in beads of sweat. This was his chance, as he suddenly drove his finger forward, feeling the resistance.

Quickly he felt the muscles surrender, felt the soft silky lining of Scully’s insides. His finger probed deep and quick. He heard the quick intake of breath, but ignored it. His eyes narrowed, as his finger moved in and then around. Soon he had another finger resting inside the two cheeks. Derrick could feel the quivering cheeks, feel the excitement he was creating inside of Scully. It only added to his own arousal, as he let his one finger come out, then wrapped the other close over it, and once more dove deep inside.

The sound of his finger going in and out was echoing in the cavernous tunnel, along with Scully’s grunts. He leaned forward, to spit onto his fingers, between the two cheeks. The sound seemed to make Scully tighten at first, then he loosened up a bit more. Derrick continued to push, to twist his fingers inside, when he felt Scully reach back.

His hand was pulled back on, until he relented, allowing Scully to direct his hand. Standing there, he found it being pulled back around, to then be placed over the hard cock head. Just as his hand closed around, he felt the hot stream striking the palm and he got the idea. Moving his hand, he let Scully pee on it, coating it with his own liquid, then when it was fully moistened, he took his hand away, and once more positioned it between the cheeks.

His own body was leaning in, as he quickly inserted his fingers. He didn’t waste any time as he placed his whole hand inside, his fingers pushed closer together, forming a small beak like shape. The kind you made when doing shadow shows of a bird’s beak. Scully’s legs tried to spread apart further, held back by his pants. He moaned now, as Derrick pushed slowly, gradually forcing the man’s rectum to stretch open wider.

He could hear his own rapid breathing, as his fingers probed and stretched the tight muscles. The coating of pee helped, as finally he felt the first part of his fingers bury themselves inside. The warm, the surrounding tightness held them close. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to move them in and out, gradually getting more of his hand inside of Scully. He heard each grunt, felt each moan as he twisted his hand a little, making the fingers move from side to side.

The groaning only grew, as he thrust his hand further inside. His fingers wiggled, making Scully squirm and clench tighter. The tight little hole wasn’t so little, as Derrick could feel it stretching, feel it resisting too, as he continued to thrust in and out in a steady slow motion.

Sweat was dripping from his forehead, as he continued to twist and thrust. Each twist making Scully groan, and he could feel him, as he held onto his own cock, stroking it in time with the thrusts of Derrick’s fist. He could hear the hand sliding up and down the cock, and it only made him bite his lip, wanting to grab hold of his own cock, to stroke his own blood gorged pole. Instead he just thrust his fist in deeper, almost lifting Scully up off his feet, then slowly pull back, then once more in, hard and deep.

Scully was constantly moaning now, his breath was ragged, as was Derricks, as he continued to thrust in and out. His arm was sore, cramping up and he began to wiggle his fingers more, to keep the blood circulating. His head was swimming too, as he could smell the faint aroma of urine, mingled with sweat, fresh and stale. His own chest ached, as he continued to work Scully’s insides.

His legs were tightening, as he could hear Scully’s hand moving faster and faster with each thrust of his hand. The panting was growing louder, and he could feel the muscles inside quivering. Derrick knew it was close, as he started to slowly clench his fingers, gradually making them roll up into an actual fist shape. Scully cried out, yelled really, as Derricks hand closed up fully, and once more he began to thrust forward, slower, but deep.

It didn’t take long, for the tell tale tremble to start. Derrick felt it begin, felt the way the muscles inside were tingling, the way they were wrapping around his fist, then releasing it. He could feel the muscles around the hole quivering, feel them tense up, feel the cheeks contracting around his wrist, nearly cutting off his circulation. His body also began to tremble a little, as the quivering become more pronounced, more constant.

Scully’s entire body was shaking, as if a large train was passing by, just inches away. He could feel it, see it even, as the yellow of Scully’s vest vibrated, shook and shimmered. He watched the yellow, saw how they were blurring, how the buttocks was pushing back against his arm, and then the loud almost animal like cry came rushing out.

He knew immediately that Scully was shooting his load, and he began to withdraw his fist, relaxing it back into a beak shape, to easily remove it. The tremors were unreal, as he pushed his own body up into Scully’s. He felt the body leaning backwards, as he let his free hand reach around, to grab hold of the younger man.

The jolt was unreal, as his own body pressed forward, against Scully’s rear motion. His hand held tightly to the front thigh leg, as the body bucked and twisted in his grasp. The moan was constant, as the bucking gradually began to subside. His hand no longer buried deep inside.

Slowly, Scully pulled himself together, standing upright, on his own. His breathing was still hard, as he turned around, to stare directly into Derrick’s face. The eyes stared long at him, then glanced down at Derricks penis.

‘Your turn mate’ was all he said, as he moved off to the side.

Daddy’s Boy at 18

By Ian Kovnats (Gaystoryman)

Copyright © 2007 ? All Rights Reserved

William got off the bus, and there was his mother. Looking no different than when he had left for College, except maybe a bit more frazzled, little bit more lines around the eyes and face as he gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

‘Grab your bag, your father is waiting at home’

As he picked up his duffel bag, he felt slightly annoyed. It was like he was ten or twelve, that way his mother had spoken. Not even a ‘how are you’ or anything.

‘He’s my step dad, not my real dad’

‘Talk like that won’t help you William, and he is your dad, he’s the one who raised you, don’t you forget it’

He wanted to say more, but thought better of it. He was in enough trouble as it was. Hell, how stupid could he have been, to fall for that shit. His step dad would certainly have a field day with it, and no doubt he was in the back shed, waiting, anticipating how he would make William regret it even more.

Christ, he was eighteen for God’s sake, and felt like he was still a little brat. His step father had come into his life at about 8, and he was a Master Sergeant of the Marines. He looked at William then, and since, as nothing more than some recruit. The way he would bark orders, expect instant responses, and when it wasn’t as he expected, the punishment usually was the switch on the bare behind, out in the shed.

Nothing seemed to have changed either, whether he was 10 or 18. His step dad still thought of him as some damn ass recruit, and his going off to college had infuriated the old crank. It was like he had expected William to join the Marines or something, instead of going to College to get a degree, to become something more than a grunt.

Sarge, as he liked to be called by everyone, including his family, was an impressive man. He stood just over six foot, was solid too. No pot belly on him, and he could still bench press his own body weight. His hands were massive, and the arms were more like those of a body builder than an ordinary person. And he knew how to wield those arms too.

William could still feel every ‘disciplinary action’ that had been forced on him. At a young age, it had hurt, but as he grew up, the force of the blows across his buttocks increased. Sarge liked to tell him it was because he was becoming a man, had to learn how to take it like a man, though he didn’t quite see it that way. In some ways, before leaving for college, he had found it more erotic than painful. Not like Sarge would know anything about that, still as the car parked in front of his home, he felt oddly excited.

Maybe he had taken too many whacks to the ass, or maybe it was just his nature, or some genetic quirk, but staring at the old house, seeing the huge flag hanging from the pole, he felt a bit aroused. He couldn’t explain it, because Sarge was never sexual towards him. Hell the man barely acknowledged his mother, as if sex to him was a matter of duty, not pleasure. The guy was just cold as hell, nothing ever phased him.

The only way he used to know if the man was angry, was by the fire in his eyes. His jaw would be set a little tighter, the lips a bit paler, but it was the eyes that gave it away. They looked so intense, so burning, that many times William thought that if he could, Sarge would burn a hole right through his body.

He walked into the house, as if nothing had changed. Looking around, it didn’t seem any different either, as he left his duffle bag by the stairs, and headed out towards the back shed, as his mother had directed. Funny, she never once objected to the walloping he had gotten from Sarge, even when he had come rushing in, pleading for her to intercede. It never changed anything, and he soon stopped running to her.

Things were different though. He was eighteen, had grown up a lot over the last few years. To begin with, he was no virgin. Secondly he wasn’t some 98 pound weakling. Workouts at the gym, running several miles every morning had given him an actual body. His body fat was minimal, his hair was as he wanted. No longer cut like some damn Marine, buzzed and like a brillo pad.

According to one his recent flings back at college, he had buns of steel, arms like rocks, and legs that could crush a fair sized piece of granite. He had liked that, and yet as he walked towards the shed, he felt like he was still just a small kid. Yet the twitch in his ‘buns of steel’ made him smile, which he quickly wiped off his face. Sarge would not like to think that he might actually be looking forward to their encounter.

Entering the shed, he noticed how nothing had changed. Everything was exactly where it had been before he had left nine months ago. Every tool was still hanging exactly where it always was. Even Sarge seemed to be where he always at times like this. He stood with his back to William, looking out the back window. The back was ramrod straight, hands clasped behind like he was on some damn parade ground.

The head was upright, not even moving as he had entered the small workshop. The cold cement floor echoed to his footsteps, as he walked towards the centre of the room. He noticed that even the chair was exactly where it always was.

‘Couldn’t even make it a whole year, could you?’

‘Guess not’

‘Still with the smart mouth, obviously you haven’t learned very much while away.’

‘I don’t know, figured out I am not cut out to be a Doctor, that is something.’

He watched the shoulders lift a little, then the whole body turned to face him. Just like on the parade ground he thought, watching the man stare at him. He could feel the eyes burning at him, saw the anger in the face, as usual. Yet it didn’t seem to frighten him, but instead made him feel warm. It was strange, something he had tried to comprehend, but had given up on trying to figure out.

William knew what was coming, he had been in this position more times than he could really remember. More times after he had been 14 or 15 too, which didn’t make much sense to him. It was almost as if he deliberately sought to be difficult, to raise the ire of the Sarge. Looking over at him, he could see the man was unchanged. Still the Marine, the drill instructor. Even his work pants had a crease in them, just like always.

‘You know the drill, hop to it.’

William watched as the man leaned over and brought out his switch. It was the same one that had been used for years now. Well not years, just his last one at home. The one before that had been broken over his ass, which had earned him some pretty good cussing. He could still recall that switching, as he looked at his step father.

‘Bit old for that, don’t you think?’

‘You are never too old to be disciplined by your betters.’

‘I am not the same kid that left nine months ago, maybe I won’t accept your brand of discipline?’

He watched the man stare at him. The jaw grew more set, and the eyes looked like angry red orbs. He almost felt the outrage reaching out for him. It was odd, but inside, he knew he would submit, it was a game he played with the man. William liked goading him, hoping that just once the guy would show some emotion, other than glaring or barking at him.

‘You don’t have what it takes, enough of your disrespect, drop those trousers, and assume the position, or by God, it will hurt a lot more when you do submit. I guarantee you that.’

For one split second he contemplated making the man back up his words. Yet as he looked at him, knowing he had youth on his side, the guy was still in shape. It wouldn’t be easy, nor would it be in his favour. The guy had served in some pretty dangerous places, had come out alive. Licking his lips, as he stared back, he realized that if it ever came down to a fight, he’d have the shit kicked out of him.

William felt his body relax. Reaching down, he unbuckled his belt, opened his pants, and shoved them down to his ankles. Turning around, he reached down, and pushed his underwear down towards his pants. For some reason, he felt himself excited, feeling the growing hardness of his penis, as he bent over, reaching for his ankles. He had given in, as he knew he would.

With his eyes looking downwards, he heard the hard steps come closer, then he saw the feet standing off to one side. Each shoe was spotless, gleaming even. They were old, but looked like they had just come out of a box. The shine was brilliant, as he held his ground, waiting. Sarge always liked to make him wait, before the first blow.

He called it a ‘time for reflection’ and sometimes it could be several minutes. Other times it would be just a minute. This appeared to be one of those more lengthier times. He felt his pulse quicken, in anticipation. It became warm in the closed shed, the sun beaming through the windows.

Time seemed to just drag on. He leaned over, the pain in his lower back growing, as the Sarge seemed content to just let him wait. The hairs on the back of his legs were standing up though. His legs ached along with his arms, as he waited. Sweat had formed on his forehead, and he could feel it dripping down his cheeks. The room’s warmth was becoming uncomfortable, but he kept his mouth shut.

It was all part of the game, as he waited. His nerves were all taut, waiting. There wasn’t even a small breeze. It was all becoming suffocating, as he waited. The tenseness in his boy became almost unbearable. He knew that soon as he let his guard down, the first blow would come. Question was, who would lose patience first? Somehow he knew the answer.

The sound registered before the pain. He heard the loud ‘whack’ as the switch crashed into his cheeks. He heard the air leaving his lungs, as he staggered a bit under the blow. It had never been that hard, but as he began to feel the pain lancing up, the second blow struck, just below the first. William felt it more than heard it. His buttocks had been twitching from the first blow, when the second had come walloping down. It had taken him by surprise, as the old geezer had switched tactics on him. He was unprepared, as the pain roared up his spine. His heart thumped a few extra beats, as he struggled to hold still, knowing that each time he moved it would hurt only more.

Still it wasn’t easy, and the Sarge had a good eye. As soon as he tried to shift his leg, to adjust for that second blow, the third was on its way, hitting him just above the first blow. It was uncanny how good he could gauge where to land the blows. Each one, so far, had hit virgin territory. The pain was more intense, the blows harder than he had recalled.

As the third blow had began to make its way into his nervous system, the warmth finally began to invade his conscious thoughts. His cheeks were quivering as he could imagine the Sarge lining him up for a fourth devastating blow. He gritted his teeth, but nothing happened. There wasn’t a quick fourth blow.

He was sucking wind, as Sarge would call it. Three blows only, and already he was winded. The pain was slowly leaving, the warmth creeping up from his buttocks dissipating as well. Glancing over, the shoes shone in the sunlight. Tiny little specs of dust swirled around in the sun rays, but the shoes were still in place. Not even a millimetre out from before, as he gulped and swallowed several times.

Give the guy credit, he knew how to make things last. Once more he was playing the waiting game, making him think, making him wonder why at 18 he was still letting some old guy beat his ass. He doubted that if he had stuck to his guns, had really refused to strip and bend over, that the man would strike him. It was the one thing he was confident about, yet he hadn’t forced it, hadn’t put it to the test.

In the back of his mind, he respected Sarge. His mother was right, he had raised him, and his siblings. Maybe he hadn’t been emotional, with hugs and words of praise, but he had given them a home. He had sent him to the best schools possible, and he owed him for that.

The fourth blow caught him by surprise. He staggered and took a step forward, that earned him two more quick tags on his buttocks. One near his legs, the other closer to the small of his back. Expert placement he thought, as the pain multiplied two fold as it came rushing up his body. He felt it all over, felt his legs quiver from the pain, felt his arms stiffen from it.

The seventh blow he had anticipated, but the force of it still managed to surprise him. It was loud too, as the switch struck diagonally across his cheeks. The pain came from all over, as once more he felt himself stagger. He bit his lip, knowing an eighth would surely follow immediately.

Instead nothing, as he regained his balance. His body was sweating, and the pain seemed endless. The warmth was filling him too, making his head a bit dizzy as he stared down at the floor. He knew that floor intimately, from previous times. He slowly managed to regain his breathing, which is when Number Eight hit.

Again, the force was unexpected. His ears were suddenly ringing from the rapid beat of his heart. His lungs were aching, but through it all, he felt a thrill growing inside. His loins were aching, and he could feel his penis jerk with each of the eight blows, so far. It had thickened, though not fully erect yet. Still, as the blows had landed, it had jerked, striking his inner thighs.

Funny how you could think of things that you shouldn’t be, while being whacked across the ass. It was odd too, at how he could hear his own heavy breathing, but nothing came from the man exerting tremendous force to whack him. He didn’t get it, and the pain that now rolled up from his rear was more intense than ever. He had once more been caught off guard. The ninth blow was the hardest yet.

It made him take two steps forward. He couldn’t help it, expecting a sharp reprimand at least, a hard whack at worst. Instead nothing, just the sounds of him panting, of his own heart pounding. He shuffled back, feeling a slight tingling against his leg. The force of the blow had also forced his cock to bang into his thigh, hard. It hurt where he had never expected to feel pain, and from something he had never expected to give him pain.

Tears were at the corner of his eyes, mingling with the steady stream of sweat that now dropped from his forehead. He licked his lips, then bit down on the trembling lower lip, as he waited for the final blow. Sarge never administered more than ten, and so far only nine hard shots.

He felt his pulse quicken, felt his body stiffen, but no tenth blow. He breathed out, slowly letting his body relax just a bit. He thought that would bring the tenth blow, hoping it would, so he could pull his pants up & go to his room. The ache in his crotch was almost too much. He wanted to lift a hand off his ankles, to take hold of his throbbing cock. Yet, he couldn’t without the Sarge finding out about him, about how these sessions were making him truly feel.

Still, he could barley hold on. The dull ache inside from his need, his desire, was threatening to expose his secret. For a second he thought about telling him, or about egging him on, but he just bit his lip instead. Nothing would be served by coming out. Certainly not bend over, ass naked. That would be a topper, one that could hurt a lot more than the first nine blows had. The warmth that creeped in from his buttocks was slowly replacing the now dull waves of pain.

William heard a grunt, the first time he had ever heard Sarge make a noise, and it suddenly scared him. This time he heard the swish, the sound of the approaching switch as it was knifing through the still air in the shed. His body began to tremble, just as the rounded switch met his buttocks. He felt the wood dig into his flesh, felt the hard shape push inwards. The sound was loud, drowning all other sounds out, as it landed squarely across both orbs of bruised flesh.

A strange cracking sound suddenly joined the other noises, as he took the tenth blow. The force made him yelp, the pain reaching heights he had never felt before. His body staggered, his lungs suddenly empty, as the pain erased all of the warmth inside. His penis banged into both thighs, the left one twice, as he felt his body being propelled forward by the force of the blow.

Just as he took a second step forward, an eleventh blow landed across the top of his buttocks. He cried out, as a twelve blow fell just above his legs. A thirteenth blow hit him dead centre from the top and bottom, before the echo of his cry had died out. The fourteenth blow struck at the same place, and three more hard whacks followed at exactly the same place, even as he staggered forward.

It was as if he had been chased, as another two blows found their mark across his cheeks. The pain was too much, as he cried out with each of the blows. Sarge had never hit him more than ten times, now he had gone nuts, hitting him hard several more times. William could hear the heaving breathing, knowing it wasn’t his.

The voice sounded winded as it spoke.

‘Go, back to your room, think about this or there will be more.’

William quickly reached down and pulled his pants and underwear up. He moved forward quickly, buckling his pants as he was halfway to the house, itself. He flung open the back door, tears streaming down his face, as he thumped up the stairs, to fling open his bedroom door.

He didn’t even look around, as he reached back to slam the door shut. He stood there, quivering with anger, feeling the pain still from those extra blows. He turned, locking his door, and dropped his pants, stepping out of them. William moved over to stand in front his mirror, and turned to stare at the now darkish red purple bruises that criss crossed his white buttocks. He reached back with his hand, wincing as he touched one of the long red welts.

It still hurt, but as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed how hard his cock was. It was sticking nearly straight out from his body. Turning away from the mirror, he looked down at his cock, and grabbed hold of it. His fingers gripped the cock tightly, as he held it for a second.

He saw the white ooze at the head, and moved his hand over it, smearing his pre cum down his thick erect cock. He leaned his head back, as he quickly began to stroke himself, feeling the heat from his buttocks, feeling the still rolling waves of pain inside his body from each blow.

The pain seemed to just disappear as his hand flew up and down his cock. The warmth seemed more powerful, and the dull ache in his rectum wasn’t from the growing welts along his cheeks. It was from his handling the pain, as he felt his balls ache, and sling upwards. He stood there, his body tense, like a tighten bridge cable. Every nerve ached, every muscle inside was taut, stretched beyond its ability.

His hand moved quickly, as the explosion came. His cock reared back in his stroking hand, as it began to stream its seed outwards. William felt the warm streaming cum brush past his fingers, as if they weren’t even there. The sudden ejaculation seemed to soothe the rolling waves of pain. His body slowly began to relax, while his chest heaved and his lungs sucked in air. Gradually he felt himself relaxing, felt his body no longer racked by pain or anything else.

He was a bit dizzy, as he stumbled towards his bed. Falling face first, he felt the crispness of the sheets, felt their cool touch against his burning flesh. His cock was between his legs, as he let his hand moved back and over, to lightly touch the tender flesh of his cheeks. It hurt, made him wince even, but at the same time, he had never cum so hard, so fast as he just did. It was all because of that moment, when the old man had snapped, had struck him with everything he had.

William grinned, as he turned over to stare at his reflection in the mirror. He had won, survived another session with the Sarge. His smile suddenly froze as he saw the tall figure of his step father in the doorway. He had been certain he had locked the door, yet there he was, the immovable object.

Sarge stepped into William’s room, his eyes no longer burning. In his hand was jar of something, that he held out to William.

‘Here, put this on, it’ll help keep the swelling down.’

‘Thanks, how did you, I locked the door’

‘Locked doors never stop a Marine.’

‘Obviously’

The man looked down at him, then turned to leave. He stopped at the open door, turning back to stare at William.

‘You’ll learn’

‘I guess.’

‘Better or they’ll boot you out real fast.’

‘Huh?’

‘Have you told your Mother yet? She isn’t going to be happy about your decision.’

‘How… I mean, no I haven’t told her.’

‘When do you leave for Pendleton?’

‘Monday, but how did you, I haven’t told anyone, how did you?’

‘I am a Marine, son… and a father, a proud father.’

William watched the man leave the room, the door clicking shut as he did. He looked down at the jar, and dug his finger in, wondering what else the Sarge knew?