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Subject: Part 8 Chuck McGraw Chapter 8 – 2004 – Meat Gazer – Tikrit, Iraq He’d learned long ago to spot them. Hiding among the ranks, sometimes stumbling over pronouns when talking about family and home. The furtive glances and deliberate movements. When most troops were comfortable with nudity and would make truly offensive gay jokes, the ones who were gay did not. Anyone who knew what to look for could see it. Being in such close quarters, living together and showering in open, group showers, made it easier. Every guy looked. Those without anything to hide didn’t mind looking so much. It was the ones who made quick, guarded glances, who hid their own erections, the ones who tried to act the most inconspicuous, those were the ones who you knew were cocksuckers. SPC Garver was one and McGraw could see it right away. He stewed on it for nearly a month as everyone got acclimated to the AO and the realities of war. Garver was quiet, always reading or in the MWR center online, isolating himself further from the platoon. He would wait to shower last, after everyone else had nearly finished, maybe so he wouldn’t be tempted or so no one would see him trying to look at their cocks. McGraw kept his eye on him, even teased him a bit. While his platoon was laying out weapons or gear for inspection, and they were on their hands and knees, McGraw would walk up to Garver and make sure he stood just a little too close, his crotch nearly pressed into Garver’s face. When training, inspecting, or instructing, McGraw made excuses to touch the younger man knowing that it would excite him. When he’d see Garver go to use the communal showers, the SFC would follow a minute later. One time he was facing Garver with his eyes closed, letting the hot water run over his massive body, with his dick swinging fat and low. Then he opened his eyes suddenly and caught Garver staring right at the massive meat, practically salivating. When Garver noticed McGraw noticing him, he practically ran from the showers. At the time McGraw was a Sergeant First Class (SFC) and the platoon sergeant of the entire platoon. They all both feared and admired him. He maxed out the APFT and fired expert on all assigned weapons. He taught hand-to-hand combat and occasionally competed in bodybuilding and powerlifting competitions. He was Ranger-tabbed and had served in the Ranger Regiment but got booted from there when he got caught fucking the commander’s 18-year-old daughter. It only made it worse that he was fucking her on her dad’s desk. He never got charged with anything though because the Major didn’t want the whole Army to know about his whore of a daughter. He was the baddest mother fucker any of them had ever met, a walking, rough-talking GI Joe. He had the sort of self-confidence, big-dick energy that they all wished they could muster but never would. McGraw was 34, six foot four inches tall and 230 lbs of rock-solid muscle. His arms were 20 inches around when flexed, bulging, and covered with full sleeves of black and grey tattoos. He wore his hair in a marine recon style high-and-tight and had a thick mustache that pushed the regulations to the limit. His chin was cartoonishly square with a cleft in the middle. His stomach was flat, and his waist was 32 inches. Beneath the desert uniform he was hairy, tattooed all over, and layered in hard-won muscle. And even with his DCU pants, one could see the meat monster snaking its way down his left inner thigh. GI Joe toys looked like nothing compared to the real deal. His unit was assigned to small Forward Operating Base (FOB) called Dagger on the southern border of Tikrit and they were in charge of escort duty, rapid response, and security for the FOB. Most of his troops were crammed into tight quarters, filling up tiny rooms in the outbuildings of a “small” palace by the outer wall. McGraw was in what had once been a storage closet, a space he got all to himself due to his rank. The area was barely big enough for his cot and gear. The door was long since gone. After the first week or two of his troops seeing him sprawled naked on his bunk, awake or asleep, his impressive hog between his legs swinging heavy and low, they decided to take it upon themselves to hang a wool blanket over his doorway. He sure as shit wasn’t embarrassed. He liked the attention and the shock that it gave his men. He never went out of his way to cover up. Just the opposite. The closest he came to covering up for modesty were when he’d thrown on his black Ranger shorts, silky thin onion skin shorts that did nothing to hide and barely contained his junk. His tree trunk thighs stretched the material and more often than could be accounted for mere coincidence, his cock found its way free from the micro-mesh lining and slipped down his thigh to hang below the bottom edge istanbul travesti of the shorts. And he jacked off a lot. Every day, multiple times a day. And he wasn’t quiet about it. When someone would crack a joke or try to venture a complaint, he called them a pussy and told them they probably had too much estrogen in their system to even get hard. By contrast he was pumped full of testosterone, was always hard, and needed to drain his balls a couple of times a day. Without a hole to dump it in he was left with the only option of painting the walls of his tiny room with his cum. It was still early in the year and he and his troops were busy. The insurgency operations kept them that way. Sometimes it seemed they were outside the wire more than they were in, chasing down weapons runners and training camps. This sort of high op-tempo kept the adrenaline elevated in his men. It also sometimes caused mistakes. When the troops weren’t engaged beyond the wire, they often let their guard down and forgot proper order and discipline. McGraw and his other senior NCOs witnessed this and decided they needed to find a way to curb it. Then an opportunity presented itself that might assist with both problems; the discipline issue and the issue that no one was sucking McGraw’s dick. One day a convoy of commercial and military vehicles delivered dozens of white metal boxes, huts for the Soldiers to live in, called CHUs. They were basic, but they had A/C and electricity, hooked up by the Engineers. They were arranged in regimented rows between the palace and the motor pool, and the commanders of the various units were summoned to the ToC to deal with room assignments. Most of the troops not engaged directly with the security of the base, those who were there in other capacities like mechanics, communications, etc, were already housed in the Palace. All of the females assigned to the FOB were quartered in the central tower where the Arabs had also segregated the females. But the Infantry guys, who had arrived on a different rotation than most, ended up with the left-over space, mostly in the out-buildings near the wall. With the arrival of the new conexes, the grunts were going to get first priority on the premium housing. The Army was even nice enough to purchase bunks with actual mattress to replace their cots. McGraw summoned his PLT leaders and laid out his plan. Instead of dividing the Soldiers up by teams or by ranks as was SOP for most of the Army, he suggested that the men would benefit by having good examples of proper behavior and integration with other ranks. He reasoned that a bunch of young men left to spend all of their limited free time together might not be challenged enough to improve. He explained this in a way that his other sergeants ate it right up and agreed with him. He even presented them with a special list of Soldiers that he thought needed the closest guiding hand. Sure as shit he put Garver on there. And even though his rank permitted him to have a room all to himself, he volunteered to take SPC Garver on as his own roommate and special project. His cock got hard just thinking about it. SPC Garver moved his gear into the new hooch. Each trailer was divided into two rooms with exterior doors and stocked with black metal bunks. Most of the junior soldiers were stacked four to a room. So, when Garver entered the room and saw himself alone with only two bunks, he thought he must’ve been in the wrong place. But the key his team leader had handed him had unlocked the door. So, he chose the bunk to the left of the door and began to lay out his gear. When the door banged open it startled Garver. Not nearly as much as the giant figure that stood silhouetted against the bright Iraqi sunlight. SFC McGraw, the biggest man in the entire company, standing six foot four and built like a brick shithouse, couldn’t even walk through the door straight on, even if he wasn’t carrying all his gear. He had to turn his large frame sideways and shuffle through the door shoulder first. Garver jumped up and stood at attention but was slack jawed as SFC McGraw lumbered into the small room and dropped his ruck and duffel on the empty bunk. Then he removed his kevlar and tossed it too. He raised his black m-frame Oakley’s to sit on top of his head so that his eyes could adjust to the much dimmer electric light inside the trailer as the door slammed shut. McGraw smiled crookedly at the SPC, causing his mustache to tilt up to one side and the skin on his cleft chin to stretch just a bit, revealing a small white scar. “How’s it hanging there, Specialist?” McGraw asked while staring down at the much shorter young Soldier. Garver was only about 5’7″ and slightly built, weighing about 135 lbs. “Looks like you and I are gonna be bunkmates. What kadıköy travesti do you think about that?” Still in a little bit of a shock but trained to respond to anyone in authority in his unit Garver said, “I thought I’d be with the other junior Soldiers, Sergeant. Maybe there’s some mistake.” Garver immediately reached over to start clearing up his gear. McGraw pulled at the velcro that kept his armored vest closed. He stripped it off and set it beside the bed with a thunk, loaded down as it was with extra ammo and other combat essentials. “No mistake about it,” he said, while unbuttoning his DCU blouse. Beneath the desert camouflage he wore a brown t-shirt that stretched thin across his broad chest, dark circles forming from sweat under his pits and in the center of his pecs. “This was all my idea. I mixed it up a bit from the SOP.” He tugged the t-shirt from where it was tucked into his pants and, gripping the bottom hem pulled it over his head and added it to the growing pile on the bed. Garver couldn’t help but stare at the specimen of manhood not four feet away. How many adjectives are there that convey the sheer size of a man like this. Massive, built, broad-chested, McGraw’s upper body was herculean, with strong well-defined pecs covered in a dark brown curly hair matted in places from sweat, cannon ball shoulders leading down to massive 20-inch arms with bulging biceps and carved-out triceps, thick forearms, wide hands. And both arms covered from wrist to shoulder with intricate black tattoos in the shapes of flames, skulls, guns, swords, serpents and more. More tattoos decorated his chest, an American eagle covering the entirety of his right pectoral. “I saw a few Soldiers in our platoon that needed a little extra training, a guiding hand. A little one-on-one attention.” As McGraw unsnapped the plastic clasps that held his sidearms to his thigh and began unthreading his web belt, Garver’s eyes drifted down the Sergeant’s torso, past the furred furrow of his stomach. “So, I parsed them out to NCO’s who could shape them to be better Soldiers, break them in and train them right.” SFC McGraw began unbuttoning his trousers. “And I hand-picked you to be my� special little project.” SFC McGraw shoved his pants down to the top of his boots. Then he stood back up and placed both of his hands on his hips. He stood there, in front of his gear-laden bunk in a wide stance, his DCU pants pushed down as far as they would go, to the top of his boots. Of course, he didn’t wear any underwear. His cock, thick and veiny, hung and swung between his legs, resting on his massive balls. Even soft he was over seven inches, the envy of all men. His uncut meat was hooded, his cockhead barely emerging from the folds of intact skin. Poor Garver, shocked into silence, couldn’t help but stare in admiration. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” McGraw smirked. “Now, get your fucking ass over here and SUCK MY COCK, Specialist Garver.” McGraw grabbed the base of his dick and shook it, waving it enticingly at the young SPC. Garver finally broke his gaze away from his platoon sergeant’s prick to look him in the face and stammered, “I’m not gay, Serg..” “Don’t fucking lie to me, Specialist! I know exactly what you are. You think I can’t fucking tell? Some of your other Soldiers may be fucking clueless but I’m not. You’re gay. You’re a fag. You crave cock. And I’m here to give it to you. So, get on your goddamn knees and suck my dick or you’ll regret it.” McGraw growled this at Garver while using one hand to point to the floor in front of his stiffening meat. “But�” “That’s a fucking order Solder!” Like magic words, Garver dropped the t-shirt he’d been holding in his hands and closed the small distance between the two of them. He practically inhaled SFC McGraw’s cock, almost all seven soft inches sliding into his open mouth and down his throat as the boy gazed up with cow eyes at the man over him. As McGraw’s cock grew hard in SPC Garver’s eager mouth, the SFC, hands resting on his hips, explained their new arrangement to his young troop. “You’re not the first young Soldier to suck my cock and you won’t be the last. I don’t care that you’re gay. Fuck, I appreciate having a willing cocksucking faggot in my platoon. There’s always at least one, usually a few. Just because you take it up the ass doesn’t make you less of a man. I’ll teach you to be a fucking man and damn good Soldier. I’ll learn you everything I know about Soldiering. And in return, each and every fucking day you’ll thank me by sucking my cock. I’m going to feed you load after load of my cum and you’re going to swallow ever drop.” McGraw placed a hand on the back of his Soldier’s head and began thrusting his now ten hard inches into the poor boy’s mouth. “That is unless I decide to fuck bakırköy travesti you. It’s been a minute since a fucked a tight little boy pussy and you are the boy that’s gonna take it. You don’t have to worry about me ratting you out because this will be our little secret. Your mouth and your cunt belong to me for the duration of this deployment. You’ll come out of it a better Soldier and I’ll finally have someplace to stick my prick. Is that understood, Specialist?” Garver’s answer was muffled since McGraw sadistically decided to see how much of his huge prick Garver could take. He used his hand to hold him in place while forcing his cock nearly all the way down the boy’s throat. Garver choked and snot came out of his nose, his eyes watering. McGraw held him there for a few beats before letting go. Garver fell back on his ass as he attempted to catch his breath, wiping spit, snot, and tears from his face with his hands. “I said is that fucking understood, Specialist?!” Garver looked up to the magnificent and massive man standing over him with his monstrous meat fully erect and covered in Garver’s own saliva. “Yeah.” “What?!” “Yes�sergeant.” “Speak the fuck up. I can’t hear you.” “Yes! Sergeant!” “Good.” McGraw said. “Now don’t fucking lie to me again. Are you gay?” “Yes. Sergeant.” “See how easy that was. It’s a lot easier to admit the truth than it will be when I fuck your ass. Integrity is one of the Army values and one that you’ll abide by. Now get up and finish the job you started.” Garver rose back up on his knees and, wrapping one fist around the NCO’s throbbing cock, began to suck. McGraw guided him, told him how he liked his cock sucked. So many untrained fags suck dick like they were trying to imitate a hoover vacuum cleaner. McGraw liked his with less suction. He wanted a slippery wet hole for his cock. He made Garver pull back the foreskin and tease the sensitive glands underneath. Garver learned to use his tongue on the head and under the skin, and he used his fist to stroke the meat and tug on the oversized balls. When McGraw wanted to fuck his face, Garver instinctively knew to place his hands behind his back at Parade Rest and let the SFC use his mouth as he saw fit. He struggled to breath and choked on the cock, eyes watering, but that seemed to turn McGraw even more. McGraw began to breath heavier and deeper as he thrust his cock into the boy’s face. Sweat was now dripping from his buzzed head and jaw. He had both hands on the kid’s head when he began to reduce the speed of his fucking. “Here it comes faggot. I’m gonna feed you my fucking cum. Don’t you fucking spill a drop, or I’ll kick your goddamn ass! Oh fuck, oh fuck” SFC McGraw moaned and let out a roar that Garver was later sure that everyone on FOB Dagger could hear. Buckets of cum were unleashed into his mouth. SFC McGraw let go of his head and raised his arms up to put them behind his own. Worried that this man’s cock might come out of his mouth and that the cum would go everywhere, Garver moved his hands the grasp his NCO’s thighs and lock him into position. He remained in this position for what seemed like forever as his sergeant’s balls drained into him. He swallowed, only to have his mouth fill again with cum. When SFC McGraw’s breathing began to slow down again, Garver started sucking, going for every last drop. He used his fist to milk out any remainder. At last, when he was satisfied that he hadn’t missed any, he released the man’s dick. “I told you you were a faggot. A natural fucking cocksucker too.” McGraw used the base of his cock to slap the face of the Soldier kneeling before him. “You and I are gonna get along REAL good.” McGraw actually smiled. “One last thing. Stand up.” Garver stood as ordered. His own cock strained against his DCUs, ignored this whole time. A growing wet spot from his leaking precum decorated the crotch. Without warning McGraw crushed the boy’s cock and balls in an unforgiving grip. Before he could so much as double over in pain, McGraw’s other hand locked onto Garver’s jaw, forcing him back up, and looking into the much taller McGraw’s face. “Open your mouth.” Garver complied immediately. With a wet intake of breath, McGraw drew back and then spat into Garver’s open mouth. “Swallow it.” Garver again complied. McGraw released Garver from both grips and the Soldier fell back onto his own bunk. “Now my DNA is in you. I’m marking you as mine. We’re just getting started here.” SFC McGraw yanked up his trousers, tucking his humongous cock down the left thigh and doing up his buttons and belt. “When I get back here, I want you to have your shit squared away. Don’t touch mine.” He grabbed his sidearm and M-4 and stepped toward the door. “I’m going to take a piss and I won’t be gone long. Disassemble your rifle. I’ll be back to inspect it shortly. And don’t touch your little cock. A little restraint will do you wonders.” With that, SFC McGraw stepped outside the trailer and into the blinding sunlight, leaving his new Soldier and fuck toy both satisfied and painfully frustrated.

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