[Gruntraq] Sailor And The Sergeant 10

[Grunt]

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An erotic work of fiction continued from Sailor and the Sergeant 9[/url]

"I got to go work for a while. I haven't been making any money in the past week.". Ritchie said. "You stay here and keep that thing in your ass, we'll work on the big one later tonight". Surfer then changed his clothes and took off for the Red Baron. Chad was still laying on the workout bench trying to get back into a regular breathing rhythm while his hole training session soaked in. Ritchie hit the neighborhood bar and got into a game of pool pretty quickly with a few of the locals. It wasn't long before a familiar clean cut square faced showed up. "Where you been man, haven't seen you around for a couple weeks?" Ritchie remembered Derek, he had the curved dick that was fun but challenging to suck. When he got fucked by that curved dick it was a different sensation that didn't get lost in the crowd of guys he liked to service. "Oh, I took a little vacation but I'm here now", Ritchie replied. "How is the car business?" Derek was a "closer" at a local car dealer who dropped in at the Red Baron once or twice a week. He was in his early thirties with a very athletic build, unusual for a car salesman. He had been the total jock in high school and never lost the chiseled and slab like physique. Always dressed in slacks and a loose button up shirt with a tie, Derek looked like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Ritchie liked servicing him as he was a damn good looking guy and a hard fuck. A rare combination in the world of a hustler. "So you want to dance cowboy", Derek asked with his familiar slow wanting tone. "Yeah, let me take this last shot". Ritchie downed the last of his beer and took aim at the cue ball, sinking another solid. He handed off the cue to one of his friends and they were out the door. As Derek drove them toward the dealership in his truck Ritchie was pinching and twisting the salesman's tits through his shirt. His cock was straining in his black slacks. Ritchie's hand had made its way to Derek's throbbing package they approached the lot. Like the times before they drove past the pack of salesmen gathered up front and made their way to the back corner lot behind the main showroom building. In the vast sea of dusty used cars a small shabby looking mobile trailer office sat next to a large tented area where the cars got detailed. It was the office where the day time car detailers and lot boys hung out, and is always smelled like a leaky roof and chemicals inside. They made their way up the steps and Derek unlocked the door. As soon as it shut and the lock was turned Ritchie was on his knees grabbing at Derek's belt and zipper. In seconds that fat curved cock was swinging in his face.Derek was no man for romance, he grasped Surfer's skull and stuck his meat into it and began fucking his face. Ritchie knew how Derek liked it, fast and furious. "Come on little bitch, keep up!" Trying to stay stable Ritchie went to work trying to keep a good vacuum on the thrusting bent cock as it poked at the left side of this throat. Derek continued bucking at him like a raging bull in a pen. Ritchie was just now getting to taste his fat meat and taking in the scent of the cologne the salesman always bathed in. After few minutes of getting his throat fucked almost to soreness, Derek pulled his dick from Ritchies face and ordered, "Get on the desk! I am gonna fuck your head off". As Ritchie stood up and pulled his pants off, Derek brushed all the crap on the desk aside with one hand as he pumped his cock with the other. Still wearing his shirt and tie, he helped Ritchie up on the desk and raised his legs up as he saddled up to the Surfers nest. Spitting heavily on his curved rod, and rubbing his bitch's asshole wet, he probed him with the head slightly. "You are so precious my little bitch", Derek said as he sunk his meat into Ritchie's hot little hole. Derek loved the sensation of fucking a man, a pleasure he never talked to his little wife about. Tighter, harder, and rougher. Ritchie squeezed his ring around his master's tool as it started moving back and forth at him. As Derek 's wall of athletic thighs began slamming him he wrapped his legs around his buttocks and crossed them, squeezing the linebacker in. His master was bucking him wild as the smell of butt sex filled the small trailer. Derek's fuck always hurt a little as he was rough as shit, but that bent cock always found places in Ritchie that made him cum first. The rhythm of butt-fucking was broken by the loud crack of a stapler hitting the floor, knocked off the desk by Ritchie's sliding body. His head was pinning the telephone against the wall knocking the handset off. He could hear the dial tone blaring in his ear while he was getting butt slammed.Derek's 8" inches of fat meat was pushing against him with only spit and sweat, creating a friction that was almost unbearable. It was minutes upon minutes of a workout, SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP, the burning in his asshole was building. Ritchie suddenly blew his own load onto his stomach in the high of getting punked so rough. Ritchie pooled his fingers in his own goo playfully and licked them while shooting sexy looks into the eyes of the man fucking him raw. Finally Derek pulled his meat from his bitch and pumped his cock, squirting his heavy load all over the place. He pumped much of his hot cum into the palm of his hand, squeezing the last few squirts into a pool. "Sit up!" he ordered Ritchie. As the Surfer sat upright with his swollen asshole kissing the surface of the cold metal desk, Derek stuck his hand in Ritchie's face, ladling his hot load. "Eat my cum!". This was Derek's little fetish, he liked making his bitch lick up his load from the palm of his hand. Ritchie knew how to please. He ate up his man's offering every time, licking his lips and making convincing sounds of pleasure. As soon as his hand was clean they were in the truck again headed back to the Red Baron. As they got back to the bar, Derek flashed Ritchie a fresh $100. bill and smiled at him. "Thanks again!" Derek motored off in his Silverado as the Surfer meandered back into the bar. He had a good night. In the next two hours he managed six beers and hit up another horny guy for the rent. Two hundred bucks richer he decided to head home. As he walked through the apartment door he smelled the sweet odor of ganja in the air. Chad had been hitting the peace pipe. "Where you been all night?", the naked Sailor. "You know, paying the bills", Ritchie said cryptically. "So how's your ass?" Chad was sitting on a towel laid over the couch having had a the man-splitting stainless steel butt plug strapped into him for the better part of three hours. "I'm numb, I can only feel the tightness, no pain" he replied. Ritchie smiled, "Good, then you are ready for a bigger one but you have a big test tomorrow!" "So can we take this thing out of my ass now". Chad finally asked. "Yeah, but we only have a few more days till the intiation with Sgt. Ramos and the crew, so we'll have to open you up some more tomorrow." Chad laid on his stomach , propping his ass up into the air with his knees. Ritchie unbuckled the harness and let the strap fall off to the side. The shiny stainless steel plug was shimmering in the dim light. "Alright, squeeze it out", Ritchie said. "What?", Chad questioned? "Shit it out, it is not gonna come out on its own." Ritchie instructed. Suddenly feeling the tightening burn on his squeeze-ring that had had not felt since earlier in the day, he pushed on the awl and began forcing the wider part past his gate. Suddenly he was awash once again with piercing pain that felt like ripping and tearing thin, his asshole. Then like sand through an hourglass, it became a slippery sliding sensation as the butt-plug fell out. The cold air suddenly awoke his inner chute as his hole was widely agape. Chad felt a rising burning raw sensation as the blood began to rush back into his sphincter. It was a road rash kind of burning sensation that suddenly got soothed as Ritchie began massaging a cooling lotion on his inflamed crimson rosebud. It was now beginning to swell and close up, but was allowing his fingers unimpeded access in an around the bright red lips of his newly sized chute. He continued rubbing the soothing creme on and around his sore spot and they called it a night.

To Be Continued.

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