Date: Tue, 17 May 2016 11:04:11 +0100 (BST)
From: "rampage938@btinternet.com" <rampage938@btinternet.com>
Subject: THE COKE MAN CUMETH : 3

The rest of that week dragged by but I spent some serious time at the gym
working out, getting pumped up ready for the weekend. To save going out and
getting wasted on the Friday night, I took a drive up around the air force
base just to kill some time. I pulled up in the main car park at the
base. There weren't many people around but a group of joggers caught my
attention as they passed. The short hair and gear they were wearing told me
they were likely to be defaulters. Herding them along was my friendly
'snowdrop' (the RAF erks/grunts call the RAF Police that because of the
white cap covers they wear when on duty. Silly really.) Although he had
given me the impression of being potentially very hostile, I could fancy
him - and decided I would test him out. I thought, "Maybe they will return
this way." I repositioned my car so that if they did come back past the car
park they would have to pass very close to me. I sat there listening to
some Tchaikovsky (OK, I may be slut but I'm a bit of a cultured slut) for
almost an hour before I saw them returning. Sure enough, Snowdrop was still
herding them along. I got out of the car, stroked my cock up through my
faded jeans and leant on the bonnet, just so he would get a good look at
me. Sure enough, there came that knowing grin again.

"You truck drivers get paid too much," he yelled at me. I could not help
noticing the bouncing cocks and balls under the shorts worn by the joggers!

"It's old and not paid for yet," I called after him. He turned and jogged
back to me, his package much fuller than I'd noticed on his way out.

"You owe me something, Coke man, for saving your arse the other day. That
poncey officer was all for running you in and having you banned from the
base."

"Sure," I said, "when?"

"Pick me up at 20.00 hours, five hundred yards down the road, on the bridge
side of the Main Gate," he said as he took off after his group. "Shit," I
thought, "this place is a jackpot!"

I was there waiting, twenty minutes early, having almost forgotten about
tomorrow night's plans. Right on time, Snowdrop arrived. He had changed out
of his running gear and was wearing ultra tight jeans and a T-shirt with US
ARMY emblazoned in big letters across his well-defined chest. He looked
good and I started panicking. I had no plans to get mixed up in anything
with him. There was no real certainty that he was even remotely interested
in making whoopee with another guy. Maybe he just wanted a few beers and
that would be that.

"Name's Mike", he said as he approached me with his big hand outstretched.

"I'm Randy," I offered in reply.

"Yeah, I guessed that, but what's your name?" Shit, this guy really did
have my number and seemed like he knew what he wanted and where he was
going.

"OK," I said, "call me Pete."

"That's better," he chuckled, "let's get outta here and go find us some
tail." I gunned the engine and we sped off into the darkness.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Taps is pretty good, half way along the road into town." He grinned at
me. Fuck, he certainly did know his way around. Taps was probably the
busiest gay bar our side of Bristol and was always jumping and heaving on a
Friday night. Civilians like me looking for military cock could have a
whale of a time there. We parked some way along the street. "I gotta be
discreet, Coke man. I've too much to lose to park right outside that
place." That I could understand. As we entered the bar, a number of guys
called out acknowledging him. "Jeez," I thought, "he really does know his
way around!" We grabbed a few beers, then grabbed a few more.

"Coming out back?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied. Although I had a good idea as I'd
hear stories about the backroom at Taps.

"Come on, I'll show you," he said.

We worked our way through the crowd and a couple of times I found myself
being pushed into him from behind. Twice I felt my stiffening dick crushed
against his denim clad buttocks. He did not seem to notice anything,
though. We walked down a dark corridor and found ourselves in a room with
just enough light for me to make out some shadowy figures milling
around. As my eyes adjusted to the minimal light, I realised there were
guys having sex all round us.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed. "Yes, please" a voice replied from somewhere in the
darkness. "Go for it," Snowdrop suggested as I watched him being drawn into
a group of powerfully built guys. Next minute, I felt a number of young men
surrounding me. Before I knew it, my T-shirt had been ripped from my chest
and my jeans were down around my ankles. Tongues and hands probed my naked
body. A hot tongue licked at my sweaty arse crack as someone pushed his
face hard into my butt. Another swallowed my raging hard-on down his
throat. I groaned with pleasure and heard a voice call, "How you doin',
Randy" It was Snowdrop from the other side of the room. "Great!" I managed
to gasp out, "how about you?" "Oh, doin' good, doin' good," came the reply.

By now I was so horny I had forgotten about Snowdrop. There were at least
half a dozen guys working me over: one had my dick down his throat, another
was lapping my balls and taking them into his mouth, rolling them around in
his humid maw. Two hands, whether from the same guy or not I couldn't tell,
were pinching, twisting and tweaking my nipples, sending waves of sharp,
delicious pain down to my groin, making my cock swell even more and drip
increasing quantities of clear sticky fluid. Probing fingers worked their
sensuous way into my bunghole - fuck, how I wanted one of those big dicks
in there! A large, calloused hand came around my forehead, pulling my head
back.

"Take this, cock sucker!" growled a disembodied American voice. I gasped as
a huge, hot cock slid past my teeth, over my tongue to the entrance to my
throat. I stifled a gag and began sucking, creating a vacuum by drawing in
my cheeks, pumping away like crazy. "Oooh, shit!" murmured the Yank, "you
surely can suck dick, boy!" Another large cock started slapping against my
stomach. I felt as if I was being beaten with a cop's rubber
night-stick. "Said I'd arrange it for you," came a snarl in my ear. My
heart turned somersaults as I recognised my latrine buddy's voice. With the
big anonymous dick pumping down my throat, there was no way I could let him
know I'd recognised him.

Then I felt the first flood of white hot cum explode into my gullet. I
thought it would never stop. I was forced to swallow, but there was too
much to take. It leaked out of the corners of my mouth, running down over
my chin, dripping on to my chest, where the nipple twisters used it to
lubricate those sore needle points. The sticky fluid increased the wild
sensations and burning pain, which raced along my nerves down to my crotch,
my balls aching for release. I could no longer hold it in. When the
explosion came, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I had never
pumped so much cum for so long in all my life. My entire body jerked and
torqued with the spasms wracking my cock and balls. My throat was now
disencumbered and I uttered a deep, feral cry that must have originated in
some primeval part of my brain. Slowly, I came back to myself, gasping and
almost choking with the force of my ejaculation. As the men who had been
working me over let me go, I almost collapsed but was caught around my
waist by a pair of strong arms.

"Had enough?" It was the latrine sergeant's voice, again. I was powerless
to speak and could only nod my head. "Pity. I'm not finished with you yet.
I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll cum again and again before this night
is over!"

To be continued.........