Marines And Scout Troop

This is a story of sex between adult male members of the MILITARY. All legal disclaimers apply. If this topic offends you, do not read any further; and ask yourself why you are at this site.

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, although it may be loosely based on real events and people.

The story is in no way meant to disrespect, demean, discredit or dishonor the men serving in uniform. On the contrary, the author has the greatest respect and admiration for our men in the military and it is the author's belief that men should be allowed to serve their country honorably, protecting all freedoms, including their own freedom to be who they are.

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The Marines and The Scout Troop

The day began like any other, with our squad out for a double-time jog. Twelve Marines, shirtless, in combat boots and tight PT shorts running to the sound of deeply masculine cadence up the narrow road alongside a wooded training area out in the ass end of nowhere. I was to the side and behind Chip Hunter, my eyes glued to his big, rounded, solid butt. His massive thighs jolted under his weight and his calves bulged to propel his boots to the next step.His back spread upward to wide, powerful shoulders that swayed sexily as he ran. Tiny rivulets of sweat ran down his thick neck and on down the center of his back and darkened the gray material of his PT shorts. Yeah, I had those kinds of thoughts.Not about just anybody; just my buddies; okay, especially about Chip Hunter.I'd never acted on them but there was the constant attraction to their muscled bodies and their big cocks swinging around the barracks.Right beside me was Denver Lucas.I could see out of the corner of my eyes, his thick chest muscles bouncing each time his boots hit the ground, and his massive thighs bulging as he ran.

We were the best of the best; ask anybody on base. The Marines had a reputation for building men, but we went the extra mile. We had made a conscious, collective decision to be the beset and stand out among all the other Marines. We supplemented Marine chow with protein shakes and bars and we hit the weights three times a week. No more, no less. And the results turned heads any time we were out running; any place we went, actually, whether in PT shorts and combat boots or in full dress uniform.

With Sgt. Davies, our DI, sounding cadence, we rounded a curve in the road that opened up to a wide field with thick woods on two sides. A rushing stream separated the field from the road we were on, and on the other side was a group of boys horsing around and laying around in the thick grass. When they saw us they started waving and yelling at us, holding up bottles, offering us something cold to drink. We laughed and waved back and kept on running. Several paces further, the DI suddenly ordered the column right.

"Anybody use a cold drink?" he yelled as we moved off the road into the grass.

There was a loud "Sergeant, Yes Sergeant!" in unison.

We halted, did an about face and ran back twenty yards and slowed down as we came to the stream. Sgt. Davies led the way, wading right into the water, and we all followed. The boys whooped and yelled with laughter. The water was cold and deeper than it looked. Midstream, it was waist deep. Some of us ducked our heads under and got wet all over to make the chilly water more bearable.We waded out on the other side and up the bank, water streaming down our bodies, our boots and shorts soaked. The boys looked in awe of us. As we approached the group, they came toward us with thermoses and jugs and bottles of drinks. There were nine of them, older than I'd judged from the road; late teens, all bright-eyed and healthy looking; extremely healthy looking, enough that they made me have the kinds of thoughts I had about my buddies.

I guessed they were on an outing, hiking, the way they were all dressed alike in boots and shorts and T-shirts with a bright-colored striped emblem on their sleeves. As we drank our fill the boys asked us questions about the Marines. One kid in particular caught my eye. Already well-muscled, he had a look about him that belied his tender age. He struck me as the type of kid that knew what he wanted out of life and wasn't afraid to go after it; the look I had when I was his age, which was about twelve years ago.

"What're you guys doing out here on base?" I asked as I squatted down on my haunches while he knelt to pour me another cup of cold water.

"Same thing as you guys, staying in shape," he said.

"Well, it's working, in your case," I said, giving him a quick once- over that couldn't be mistaken for anything but admiration and respect.

"Yeah, for you guys, too, big time," he said, his eyes raking over my naked, wet muscles.

"But how do you get on base?" I asked him.

"Asked permission," the boy said. "We got a special permit to come on as a group and observe some of the training. Mostly, the physical stuff. We can only go into certain area.I mean, we can't go out to the rifle ranges or anything like that."

I saw the way he was looking at me.I'd seen the look many times before, but not from someone so young. His eyes kept raking over my wet body, with little mistake of their meaning, aiming flirting glances right between my thighs.

"I didn't know they allowed the scouts base," I said.

"We're not that scouts," he said. "We're GSAs."

"GSAs? I was in scouts and I never heard of GSAs. Is it a new organization, or an off-shoot?"

"You could say that. When they wouldn't let us in, we formed our own scout group.We're not widely known. Actually, its just a local group, guys within a hundred mile radius."

"Wouldn't let you in?What does GSA stand for?" I asked.

He patted the multi-colored patch on his shoulder."Gay Scouts of America," he said, without batting an eye. "Well, that's what we call ourselves; we're not really affiliated with anybody. We just made the name up."

"Oh." It was all I could think of to say for the moment.

"Now that you know, I guess you want to get back across the creek where you'll be safe," he said rather sourly.

"Any reason why I shouldn't feel safe here?" I asked.

"I guess not. You're a Marine, you're probably not afraid of anything," he said. His eyes were still busy over my body but came to rest about crotch level again. He was awfully interested in my crotch and now I knew why.

"Your legs are huge," he said.

I glanced down at my legs. I had big, powerful thighs, and squatted down on my haunches made them look even bigger. When I looked back up our eyes met.

"You're huge all over," he said, looking at my arms, and when he saw that I wasn't hostile he looked back down between my thighs."Those shorts are so tight, you're about to bust out of them."

"They look tighter, wet, but would that be a problem for you if I did bust out of them?" I asked with a tight smile.

"No. Absolutely not," he said. "How big are you?"

"Two forty one," said.

"No, now big are you?"

"Oh." I couldn't believe what he was asking, so bold. "Nobody believes it when I tell them," I said.

"I would," he said, eyeing my crotch more openly now.

"Eleven inches," I said.

His eyes popped and his mouth flew open. "No shit!"

"I told you, you wouldn't believe it."

"No, I believe it," he said. "I just never saw or even heard of anybody being that big. I didn't know it was possible to be hung like that." He laughed."No wonder you need such big, powerful thighs, to carry all that around."

"It's possible," I assured him as I mentally explored all of the other possibilities that this kid and the situation presented.I couldn't believe I was squatted down here, talking about the size of my cock with a teenager who I'd just met.

"I guess you must attract a lot of attention around the barracks," he said.

"The guys are used to it," I said, with a shrug. "Besides, there are a couple more guys in the outfit who are pretty impressive."

"But eleven inches," he said."I guess most guys have to see it to believe it when you tell `em how big you are."

"Well, I don't.......................

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