Okinawa, Japan is a small city southwest of Tokyo. It stretches out 67 miles, and is known throughout the world as a vast military community, home to the United States Marine Corps. John Frederick Wilmer was fresh out of basic training when he arrived in Okinawa. This was his first time out of the U.S., and as a country boy straight from Covington, a small...
It was a hot and humid summer and the club was packed on a Saturday night which was great for business and of course, a chance for the late night fun that might find its way to me. No such luck as the hot shirtless guys was sweating and dancing, downing shots or sipping their cocktails and beers. I went outside because I felt the heat inside a small dark cra...
Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex. Sitting on the ground with some privacy granted by the picket fence, John seemed to be resting comfortably, snoring lightly, but not loudly enough to attract the attention of anyone passing by. I hadn't seen or heard anything more from Bert and his girl, whom I suspected might ver...
I awakened to muffled noises downstairs. The bedside clock showed three thirty five in the morning. I got out of bed and grabbed the pistol from the drawer. More muffled noises. I slipped out of my room naked and crept down the hallway. Quietly I made my way to the living room. The cabin had been burglarized several times before and the television and DVD pl...
This is a true story. Only the names have been changed. Many years ago, I was a lieutenant colonel in the US Army, commander of a Special Forces battalion, a married man of 50. We had a son, my military career was on track, and I was due to retire in a short time. The USA was then at peace, the military did only training, and discipline problems were few. Pr...
((Just a quick little story that I needed to get out of my head. I am splitting up the AU chapters and expanding as well as fixing up Starcrossed 3. I wrote this during class this afternoon. Yes, I know it wasn't Iraq that flew the plane into the trade center. I am also not a raciest or against religion. My stepbrother is Muslim and an immigrant from the mid...
Just off Avenida de 9 Julio, I entered a bookshop that was good at sourcing gay literature. The man who ran the shop was Marcelo, a long, narrow broom handle of a man. We had met when we were in university together. He had inherited the shop after his father's death, and dropped out to run the store. In the early days of Isabel Peron's presidency, and certai...
This is the story of a gay man in a hostile anti-gay military environment, who has to endure therapy by a homophobic medic. This story contains homosexuality. If you object or its not allowed in your area, leave now. Thanks to my friend KABS and Gingerninja for editing for me! ***** The year was 1984. South Africa wasn't a happy place. I was in the army...
The PFC's knees slammed hard into the flimsy divider, his hands gripping the top of the stall wall in an effort to remain standing. I was on the other side of the stall, seated on the toilet with the PFC's black cock filling my mouth with his cum. He was the second soldier in the last half hour to feed his cock to me through this glory hole. As soon as my mo...
Living in a military town you'll see loads of servicemen wandering around with nothing to do. They're new to the place. They don't know anybody. Most importantly, they're lonely. Not to make it sound as if I'm exploiting that loneliness, but I do sometimes find myself benefitting from their quiet desperation for companionship. If it matters I've been on th...