• https://t.me/+qIkl6VOqKIRkNjc0

    “You want a smoke?” the soldier asked while lighting up a cigar, puffing it to a start. “We’re going to be here for a few hours. We might as well enjoy ourselves.” I declined the cigar, but not his cock.

    It was my first big assignment for a major news outlet. I was imbedded with a military unit on an intervention mission in the Middle East. My instructions were to interview soldiers and to write about their daily lives in a war zone. On my second day there, I accompanied the unit on a supply mission. A blockade in the supply route was identified a mile ahead, and one soldier and I were left behind in a cargo vehicle while the others moved ahead to secure our route.

    The soldier keeping me company was hot as fuck. He had the typical look of a military man with the buzz cut, the fatigues, and a tattoo on his forearm. He was muscular and exuded that cocky masculinity that is typical of young soldiers. I wanted him in the worst way. In the real world, this guy would never look my way. But thrown together in a cargo vehicle halfway across the world, he had no choice but to talk with the faggot reporter sitting with him.

    “It can get boring on these supply missions,” he confessed as we stared out of the vehicle. “That’s why I always have a few of these with me,” he said while pulling a cigar from the shoulder sack he had with him. “Helps to pass the time.” He then pulled out another cigar and asked, “You want a smoke?” while offering it to me.

    “No, thanks,” I politely declined. “I’m not much for cigars. But you go ahead.” I had to stop myself from saying that I’d much rather smoke his cock.

    “I wasn’t much for them either until I joined the service,” the soldier shared while lighting the cigar and puffing it to a start. A cloud of gray smoke encircled him. He looked hot as fuck with the cigar in his mouth, masculine in a way I could never pull off. I could feel my cock getting hard. He was quiet as he enjoyed his smoke but, as a journalist, I needed him to talk.

    “What do you miss the most from home?” I asked him. I often open this way in interviews. It’s an easy way to get a shy soldier to talk about himself. I usually get answers like: “I miss my mom’s meatloaf,” or “I miss going to football games.” Typical stuff.

    So I was a bit surprised when this soldier, after taking a long drag on his cigar, replied, “I miss pussy.”

    I gave a quick, uncomfortable laugh, assuming he was just trying to be funny.

    “No, I’m serious, bro,” the soldier continued. “I haven’t gotten my cock wet in months. Not getting laid … well, it fucks with your mind. I think about pussy nonstop.”

    I nodded my head in sympathy, not wanting to divulge my love for cock just yet.

    “You must know what it’s like,” he tried to equate, flicking some ash over the side of the vehicle. “You’re far from home, too. When’s the last you got your dick in some snatch?”

    I hesitated, but decided to be honest. “I don’t fuck pussy,” I said quietly. “I’m gay.”

    The soldier was undeterred. “Okay. Ass then. When’s the last you fucked some ass?” he wanted to know.

    I couldn’t believe the conversation had taken this turn, but I wasn’t about to back away from it. “I’m a bottom,” I shared. “Guys fuck my ass.”

    The soldier’s eyes grew wide. I could almost see his wheels turning, and I wasn’t going to miss my chance.

    “You wanna fuck my ass, soldier?” I offered, locking eyes with him.

    “I’m not gay, bro. I don’t fuck guys,” he spat while pulling the cigar from his mouth. “Look, I know that shit happens in the military. I hear the rumors. But that’s not for me.” He stood up abruptly and looked out of the cargo vehicle once more. And that’s when I noticed he was hard.

    “Dude, you don’t have to be gay to fuck a guy,” I countered. “Do you know how many straight guys I’ve had? Well, shit. I bent over for two other soldiers in your platoon just last night.” I was bluffing.

    “I don’t want to hear that shit,” the soldier barked. “It’s not my business.” And yet he was still hard.

    “Man, they loved fucking my tight hole,” I fibbed, taunting him. “They said I’ve got the best cunt they’ve ever had.” I was laying it on thick when, suddenly, the soldier pushed me face down on the floor of the cargo vehicle.

    “Shut the fuck up, faggot,” he ordered as he put down his cigar. I thought he was about to beat me, but he was soon yanking down my pants. I could hear him undoing his belt as he pinned me down with one, strong arm.

    “You want this cock, faggot?” he demanded. “Well you’re gonna fuckin’ get it.”

    He spit on my hole and suddenly I was ripped in two. Holy fuck, he was thick. With one quick thrust, he was balls deep inside me. I’ve had enough cock to know he was easily over eight inches.

    “You like this cock, faggot?” he asked while rapidly pummeling my hole.

    I nodded quickly in assent while trying to catch my breath. Jesus, his cock felt good.

    “I can’t hear you,” he barked. “I said … do you like this big fucking cock?”

    I turned my head toward him and cried out, “Yes. Fucking give it to me. Breed this fucking hole.”

    “That’s it, faggot,” he growled as he moved his strong hands to the small of my back while beginning to jackhammer my hole. “You want this load?” he demanded. “Because you’re about to get it.”

    Instantly, I could feel his big cock pulsing and spurting inside me. “Aww, SHIT … DAMN,” he cried out as he collapsed upon me. His massive load spilled from my gaping hole as he pulled out of me, and I could feel him cleaning off his cock on the back of my pants. Fucker.

    The soldier’s radio suddenly sputtered, and he engaged in coded communication that had no meaning to me. His camo pants were down around his ankles and his cock was still hard as he spoke with the soldier on the other end of the radio. Finally, he clicked off the device.

    “They’ve secured the supply route,” he reported, “but it’s gonna be another hour before they return.”

    The soldier then picked up his cigar and took a long drag as I stood and pulled up my pants over my used ass.

    “What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded incredulously. “Didn’t you hear me? We’ve got another hour, and I’ve got at least two more loads in these balls. So pull those pants back down again, faggot.”

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