*Disclaimer: All people involved are over 18. Names, places, and more are changed to protect identities. As an example, for the purpose of my stories, my name is Ty Michaels.*
Jody:
1. Noun. A popular chant or song among U.S. military members to recite in unison while marching or in some other formation. A Jody normally makes light of a terrible or morally reprehensible topic.
2. Noun. The person fucking your wife while you are deployed, usually another military servicemen.
I was a Jody. But I wasn’t fucking a wife, I was fucking the wife’s husband. Well, he was fucking me, to be specific. Ok, let me explain.
I had been [picked up by one Sergeant Bradley](https://www.reddit.com/r/gaystoriesgonewild/comments/1b1estb/sergeant_bradley_takes_control_of_me/), who as an additional duty, was the drill instructor for our base. I was 22, he was in his late 30s. He lured me into some rough sex in a large storage closet and hinted that he would call me in the future for a round 2. I think he wanted me to call that night after a party, but I forgot. My drill duty came and went, which was usually only a week or 2. And aside from that one pounding he gave me, we hadn’t done anything since. I didn’t wait around, and got my dick and ass wet elsewhere during that time. Grindr was becoming more popular and allowed us to avoid DADT situations. Today, Grindr has a deservedly shit reputation. But in its early days, it was a godsend for me in the Air Force and every closeted military person.
A late March snowstorm hit the base, and the base command post announced that only mandatory-personnel were to come into work, everyone else would stay home. This was fairly common, even in a northern base, where snow was common. Most airmen and contractors lived off base. I lived on base and in the dorms, which were glorified Motel 6 rooms, with a common kitchen and laundry room at the end of the dorm hall, and a shared bathroom adjoining every two rooms. Snowstorms were very annoying for us in the dorms. You could risk the road, of course. But usually you stayed indoors and walked down to the chow hall at the designated windows to eat.
For me personally, I enjoyed the snowstorms. It gave me an excuse to do nothing but play video games for the day, and maybe chase some dorm-dick on Grindr. I stopped by the BX (Base Exchange, a general store like Wal-Mart or Target, that sells items tax free to service members, and sometimes at-cost), picked up a couple snacks and essentials, and headed back to my dorm to hunker down for the snow storm.
That’s when my phone rang. Caller ID showed “Sgt Bradley – Drill.” Part of me was annoyed because my 24 hours of gaming, eating, and sleeping was possibly about to be interrupted, but I would be lying to myself if I wasn’t also hyped for some of the best dick I had gotten in the last few months. I tap the green phone and answer, “My answer is still no, I don’t want to join the drill squad. I like my weekends.” I thought I was clever, but keeping it light is always preferable, even if its cheesy. I heard a mix of a sigh and chuckle on the other end before he replied, “Yeah, I figured as much. It’s your loss. It would have given us a lot of time alone and away.” I opened the door to my room carrying my bags in one hand and holding the phone in the other. After shutting it, I playfully responded, “Well, in my distinguished experience, only married men have to schedule time to sneak away.”
There was silence on the other end for longer than I expected. I unpacked my few groceries and then stood there. As I took in a breath and was about to ask if he was still there, he spoke up, “Yeah… would that be a problem?” The question actually took me back for a second. I had fucked DL guys before. And technically Darren and Terrence had girlfriends while I was their plaything. But I didn’t know how serious they were. But a married man? If I had been with one, I wouldn’t have known it specifically, but there were probably clues saying they had been. For a brief moment, I had a moral debate in my head about how adultery was wrong, but was it only wrong for the married person and not the other? Eventually my horniness overtook my moral quandary and I answered back, “That depends. Is your wife a psycho that’s gonna come kill me if she finds out?” Sgt Bradley matter-of-factly said, “Oh definitely. But she’s deployed so she won’t find out.” I let out an uncontrollable ponder, “Hmmm…” He followed up with, “We have no kids, we’re both fixed. I do my thing on the side. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did too when I deployed. We simply don’t ask.”
“Sounds familiar, ” I quickly retorted. Another chuckle/sigh comes out from the other side, “I suppose so. So… why don’t you come up the hill. I live in on-base housing. Just a quick walk or drive for ya. Spend the snowstorm here. I’ll plow out your car if you want to leave early after I get done plowing you.” He made a tempting offer. I was strongly considering it and asked one more cautious question, “What about your neighbors?” “What about ’em?” He continued, “They change every six months to a year. We don’t hang out with ’em. We hang out with people in our squadron, like everyone else. And no one in my squadron is my neighbor.” A few more seconds of pondering, but there was no point. My mind was made up the second I saw his name on my phone. “Send me your address. I’ll be there in 30 or less.” “You got it.” I hung up the phone before he continued further and got busy doing the routine all-who-are-about-to-bottom are familiar with. I even shoved a butt-plug up there as I showered, dried off, and grabbed some clothes, removing the plug right before I got dressed. I was proud of my efficiency.
The dorms were about the distance of 2-blocks away from on-base housing, even though there was nothing between them. A road on a hill led you out of the dorms and up towards the houses. From there, it was like that opening-sequence to Weeds, with the Little Boxes song. Every house, yard, and even most cars looked the same. A lot of trucks and mini-suvs or minivans. I drove the slow twists and turns with an overzealous amount of speed bumps before finally arriving at his house and pulled in the drive way. The snow was really coming down now, with already a couple inches piling up. In the 30+ seconds between getting in my car at the dorms, to getting out of my car and on his porch, I was already covered in a soft layer of wet snowflakes. I rang the doorbell and a couple of seconds later, the door opened and I immediately stepped in. The door shut behind me and I started shaking off the snow and wiping off my shoes. I felt hands come behind me and start to take my coat, I accepted the formal kindness, kicked off my shoes, slid them by the door and stood up, finally taking in the house and Sgt Bradley.
If you have been in one house on-base, you have been in them all. It was cheaper to carbon copy them all. They were fine, 3-bedroom houses, either 1 or 2 floor, sharing a frame with another house attached to it, almost like town homes. Between 1500 and 2000 square feet, depending on your base and age of house. Only thing setting a house apart was the décor, and this guy (and his wife) had leather couches, large wooden entertainment centers, and pictures of all the many places they have travelled sprinkled about the walls and tables.
“Wow, you guys get around,” I said as my eyes scanned the pictures slowly. His wife looked like a more muscular Angelina Jolie, without all the cheekbones. Sgt Bradley came around from behind me after hanging up my coat and walked across the living room and over to a bar-stand, with several bottles, utensils, and glassware laid about. He flipped open the top of the bar stand as he spoke, “That’s the nice thing about not having kids and 2 incomes. We can do what we want, when we want. What’s your poison, boy?” I was still drawn into the photos as I walked about, but turned to him to notice his grey sweatpants that were open-legged at the ankles and a black tank-top. He was already in his chill loungewear for the storm. His nipples were poking through as his pecs pressed and practically busted out of the tank. Bronze shoulders popped from the cut sleeves and gave way to veins and muscles as if Michelangelo sculpted them with a hard-on. He was tan all over. My lighter complexion contrasted it just enough like the froth of a cappuccino. “Anything with Vodka. Surprise me.”
I really needed to nail down a go-to drink. I spend too much time at bars figuring out what I felt like that night. But tonight, there wasn’t a lot of room for indecision. My drink would likely be the last conscious choice I made tonight. Sgt Bradley started mixing and said, “Lucky for you. We get to be classy tonight and have some dirty martinis.” I sat down and glimpsed at whatever music videos were playing on his TV, while engaged in some small-chat about music, concerts, parties and whatever else as he finished our drinks. He brought up expecting to here from me after my last party, but my group of friends normally got up for a big breakfast somewhere afterwards. The couch was definitely not cheap leather. It felt soft and expensive as it enveloped me. He came over to me on the couch and mirrored my posture: sitting up right, slightly angled, one foot on the floor, and the other leg and foot wrapped underneath me. I took the drink and before I went to sip he held his up and said, “To blizzards, and the warmth they help us find.” I nodded and took a drink. I couldn’t hide my impressed reaction, “Damn. You make a strong but tasteful drink and you toast like you do it all the time.” “Well,” he pined, “when you lead the drill team and when you’re on as many enlisted organizations as my wife and I are, you get invited to a lot of parties, balls, even galas.”
“I bet you pick up a lot of young airmen at these things.” I opened the conversation once more to him. I was 22, which was old for my rank, but I joined 3-years later than most. I wanted to see if I was the first time he cheated on his wife with a man, or just another notch. It didn’t matter to me, but I was curious nonetheless. He replied, “Depends if she comes with me or not. Sometimes we fly solo to things. Let me help you get this straight.” He stretched out a hand and rubbed it on my cheeks, played with my ear, ran his fingers through my crew-cut hair, and then dropped it to my leg, finding a place between massaging and caressing. He continued, “When I am with my wife, I am with my wife. There’s no one else. If we aren’t around each other, I am my own man again for that short time. You tasted and felt great the other day. But your ass will never compare to her pussy. You are different. Tighter. Harder, in some ways. Softer, in others. You are a nice slab of meat. She is top choice sirloin, perfectly seared. You aren’t the first; you won’t be the last. This will never go deeper than the carnal desires that we have for each other. I’ll never take you to Fiji. But I’ll take you on a trip you’ll never forget and you’ll beg for another ride.” He quickly finished his drink and put it down on the table and stood up. He walked over to the bar stand once more, and poured 2 double-shots of vodka, came back over and sat in front of me again. As he held out the shot, my martini still unfinished, he continued, “Now, if that’s not what you want, then there is the door. But if you can get down with that, then stop asking. Pound that drink. Pound this shot. And prepare yourself.
It was more detail than I expected, but honestly, it was a perfect scenario, so long as the wife was truly in the dark. All the fun. None of the baggage. What more could a slut want? I downed the margarita, placed the glass on the table, took the shot from his hand, and said, “I can toast to that.”
I followed suit as we slapped our drinks down to the table, and despite my willingness and energy, I wasn’t ready for how quick he came at me. He lunged across the small gap between us on the coach with such force that he pushed me onto my back as his lips poured and powered onto and over my own. The smell of leather and his cologne paired with the the sound of the leather wiping against our bodies as our lips smacked and we fought for breath. He spread my legs, the jeans stretching as they could, with his upper legs, and grinded on me, pelvis to pelvis, cock-to-cock, through our clothes. The magic of grey sweatpants held back no detail on what he packed underneath. My own cock was fighting against the denim.
This lasted for several minutes, to the point my lips felt raw. He pulled off of them, got off the couch and pulled me up alongside the coach so that my shoulder and neck were on the arm rest, my head atop it. There was no mystery to his intent. I turned my head and reached out my hand to help unveil his monstrous cock. I was able to grip it for a few seconds before he pushed it forward, tapped it on my uncovered cheek, and then slid it into my mouth.
I didn’t have the angle to move my head a lot, and Sgt Bradley knew it. He let it sit inside my mouth for a few seconds, admiring the view from above and the feeling from below. After I slobbered onto it what I could, he started thrusting and fucking my face. Once I found the right stretch to take his massive meat without gagging regularly, I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and began stroking myself.
His pubes and lower abdomen bounced against my nose with each thrust that his meat filled my mouth. I still coughed several times, as taking seven inches will often force one to do. That didn’t stop anything. I looked up and saw his massive arm that was holding my head extend up like a giant anchor to a ship. His other hand was playing with his chest and nipples. A few moments later and he pulled his hand away from my head and lifted off his tank top, showcasing the sculpted and pulsing pecs and upper body. His pecs were big enough to fuck, should one be able to climb such a mountain. Seeing his body with his cock in my mouth made me stroke harder and faster, kicking my hips as I did. He clearly took notice as he smiled and pulled out. I switched my breathing from nose to mouth, taking in larger breaths. His massive but gentle hand pushed me to sit up, but I went further and stood up and started taking off my own shirt, revealing my twink-ish/twunk-ish build.
Sgt Bradley came forward as my shirt hit the floor and made out with me once more, wrapping his arms around me, placing one at the small of my back and the other behind my neck and head. I felt my back arch backwards under his force and weight and grabbed where I could, wrapping an arm under his and gripping his back, while the other tried to go over and grab his bulking shoulder. Before I could even get used to the position in which he had me, he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his hips and my hands on his shoulder. I was like a play thing to him. He could do what he wanted to me, both because of his physical power over me and my mental allowance. He moved to the stairs and started walking up while holding me, placing one hand under a thigh and the other slipped into the back of my jeans and cupped both cheeks of my bubble butt. I couldn’t control myself and went to town on his neck. At one point, his steps upstairs staggered and he had to re-center himself, likely and hopefully due to what I was doing to his neck. We each let out a smile and small laugh as it happened. I joked, “Careful. I’m labeled fragile and to handle with care.” “Oh, I’ll handle ya,” he playfully replied.
We wrap around to the bedroom and, I-kid-you-not, the bed was like a medieval frame with a giant and fluffy mattress and a million pillows (okay, not a million, but a LOT). The frame was dark brown wood and polished. It had 4 posts that spiraled up to a hollow/open roof-square. Some type of satin or silk curtain was over the top of the square and wrapped on the sides and tied down to the frame. I immediately thought of medieval movies and how the court had to witness the consummation of a marriage, so the curtain would give some semblance of privacy. Of course it was see-through, so the horny court could confirm whatever the hell they needed by watching their king plow their queen. “What the fuck out of Braveheart…” I exclaimed right as he tossed me onto the bed. He started taking his pants and boxer-briefs off. I did the same with my jeans and trunks, looking all about the bed frame above and around me as I did. This bed setup was easily $2,000, and the nicest bed I had ever slept or fucked on. It could be far more.
“I spend a lot of time here. Damn right, it’s gonna be nice. Probably makes your dorm bed feel like a hobo’s cardboard.” His words almost moved to a slur near the end of the sentence as he started stroking his fat cock, standing over me. Both of us lay bare for the other, he was taking his time to soak in all he was seeing. I let one leg hang off the edge of the bed, the other I curled in, bringing my knee up and planting my foot flat on the bed. My balls drooped over my taint and almost covered my hole. My cock stood upright, and I was rubbing it as he was rubbing his own.
“Get up on the pillows.” I did as I was told, knocking off several of the throw-pillows. As I did, he walked to a night stand and opened a drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube. He remarked as he popped it open, “I only have K-Y. It’s supposed to tingle a woman’s vagina. You’ll have to let me know if it does the same for *your* pussy.” He came to the edge of the bed and I opened my mouth and turned my head, ready for more dick and throat fucking. He stopped with the lube ready to pour into his hand and dick on my arm, resting, as he informed, “This lube won’t work on a condom. So it’s either no condom, or no lube other than my spit. I’m gonna assume you want the lube.” I didn’t verbally respond, only nodded my head as the lube poured out onto a finger. He approached with his cock once more and placed it on my cheek. I moved my head and mouth until my meal was inside and began to suck on it. I could taste my dried saliva until I swallowed it and replaced it with new from my tongue.
With his cock in my mouth and as I laid perpendicular to him, he reached down, with his left hand and began fingering my hairless hole with the lube. He was right, it did tingle and I felt like I was a replacement for his wife. I imagined that everything we did now, they did together. It made me feel dirty, used, and a like a whore. This was her man, her cock, her bed, but I was his Jody. So now they were all mine.
His right hand reached down to my head to force and control tempo, eventually holding me completely against his pelvis with my nose scrunched against him, allowing for some of his pubes to curl inside my nostrils. I couldn’t focus on that though, as all my energy was focused on not choking on his cock filling the back of my throat. I felt some slight secretions from him; he was definitely pre-cumming in my throat. Eventually he pulled out and I caught my breath. Once I got my senses back, I could tell my face had reddened and he had snuck in a second finger inside my ass, spreading the lube around and teasing my prostate. I exhaled and fell against the pillows, instinctively spreading my legs more and rubbed my chest with one hand and back-and-forth between my cock and groin with the other.
“You were already a little loosened for me. I can always tell when a hole is excited to see me.” I could only respond in grunts and sounds, “mmm hmph…” I could feel every millimeter he moved inside of me, and he found my walnut-shaped prostate and rubbed everywhere on and around it. If he wanted to, he could have made me cum hands-free just from this. But he wanted more… and so did I.
He had been lubing up his cock with his other hand. Right as I noticed, he got up on the bed and pressed against me in missionary, ready to seed me just like so many of those medieval movies and stories. Even though no one was there, I felt watched, either from an imaginary king’s court or his wife in the desert. Before my mind got too carried away, my eyes met his as he towered above me on his knees on this bed. He pulled his fingers out and leaned down, placing them in my mouth. I sucked the lube and my insides off of him, and felt him press his fat cock against my hole. My sphincter seemed to open on command, and he slid the tip in. My mouth went agape so he pulled his fingers out and moved them to my nipples and chest. I could feel him splitting me open and all the mixed pain and pleasure that came with it. He did not wait, but at a slow-and-steady pace, he plunged all the way into me until his balls tapped and pressed against my ass.
He stayed in that posture for quite a while, playing with my chest, coming down to kiss me, rubbing my face, and even stroking my dick for me. I didn’t know what to do with my hands and just rubbed them wherever I could find on him. Sometimes I would squeeze his boulder-sized biceps, hold a ferocious forearm as it moved across my body, try and reach around his tremendous torso as he kissed me. All the while, my real focus was on my hole, as I squeezed and relaxed over and over, adjusting to his size until all pain subsided and it was only pleasure. It didn’t take long to get used to him, not because of his size. 7 inches was enough to split most guys in half despite their posturing of being size-queens. No, it was because sex is as mental as it is physical. And mentally, I had completely succumbed to him long before we hit the bed.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t give a verbal direction. At some point, he just started thrusting. The first few were slow and methodical. My head eventual tilted to the side with an exhale as he was hitting the spot. My exhale was the sign he needed and he began pounding away mercilessly at me. I had been used to stifling my moans and shouts, as the walls in my dorms were paper-thin. But now that I was in a house, his house, I eventually opened my mouth and the moans became quite audible. With each moan and whine, it felt like he hit me harder as if to escalate the situation and elicit more out of me. Eventually, I audibly started saying whatever random gasps of words I could pile together. “Oh god. That’s the spot. Fuck. You’re so big. Fuck me. You’re so strong. Oh my god. Ugh fuck…” Whatever could come out, came out, and that included my dick. I was pre-cumming like a mad-man. I hadn’t touched my dick since he went inside me and it had actually gone a little bit limp, down to a semi. But I felt no need to touch it. I felt like I was going to come, but not how I was used to doing it. Before I could understand what was happening, he put a hand on my throat and his thrusts doubled in speed. My body shook uncontrollably on the bed. The springs, frames, whatever held the bed together all shuffled, shook, and snapped about. I began shivering and shaking internally, just as he was shaking my body externally. I let out a loud cry, “Aaaah ugh AAAAAH…” as my half-limp cock began leaking a steady stream all over me.
Sgt Bradley knew what was happening. As he likely did to his wife routinely, he made me cum, but not from my dick. I had an anal orgasm. My cock flopped around as he continued to pound, energized further by what he had seen, by what he had accomplished. I had never cum without touching my dick or without some type of friction on it, like being fucked on my stomach and my dick grinding the bed. I don’t think I had ever felt this before. The sensation lasted so much longer than I was used to, I felt myself just squeezing every part of my body around and on him. He grinned a devilish grin and lifted my hips with one hand under my back and held the other hand around my throat. He delivered long, but quick and powerful thrusts up into me. I could no longer moan as he was starting to cut off my air. I placed a hand on his forearm, unable to completely wrap my fingers around it. But I didn’t pull him off. I just held it, feeling his muscles contract, his veins pulse, just as his dick began pulsing inside of me.
It was about to happen. His muscles tensed everywhere I could see or feel. Veins appeared where I had previously not seen them and his dick stopped thrusting. He now sat, buried inside of me, but I felt that cock surge with almost as much force as when he was fucking me. With a few grunts and his hand squeezing even harder on around my throat, he poured his milky semen deep into and all around inside me. I could feel its warmth fill me. I began to fade; my vision became blurry. Right as I was about to pass out either from the lack of oxygen or the overpowering bliss, he released his grip on my throat and placed the hand on my chest. His heavy breaths showed in his chest and back as he hunched over me. I gasped for air and scrambled my arms all about, trying to gain my bearings before I finally somewhat relaxed.
He sat up and slowly pulled out but kept my legs wrapped around his waist, my feet resting on the top of his hunky, butt-cheeks. He spoke, his words parsed by heavy breaths, “That was… a pretty good… round one… Yeah? A little short… but we can fix that…” I was still flustered and disoriented. I knew he could get rough from our last encounter. But I didn’t expect to be nearly choked out. I gasped out my own broken words, “Try not to… nearly kill me next time.” I let out a smile, which he returned as he said, “Sorry. I get carried away sometimes.” He pulled out (leaving my hole longing for his presence) and stood up, untying the satin/silk curtains around the Kingly bed frame, and letting them all drop. I felt like a royal mistress. He popped through the other side of the bed curtains and laid down. I instinctively rolled over and placed my head on his massive chest, drooping the other arm around him and eventually playing lightly with his now-soft cock.
“I only need a few minutes to recuperate. And I’m pretty sure you came anally, so you could probably go right now.” Sgt Bradley’s voice was muffled as my ear laid on his chest. But I understood what he was getting at. “Yeah,” I said, “that’s never happened to me before. I thought I was having a seizure. That was the most intense orgasm ever.” His chest bumped up and down as he chuckled, “Good. We’ll see if we can make that happen again. We have the whole night and whole day tomorrow to play around. If… you wish to stick around, of course.”
Even though I paused for a few seconds, as I already knew, I wasn’t going to be making any decisions today or tomorrow. My mind was made up when he called. “Oh yeah. After that, I’m staying.” He chuckled some more. I continued, “So am I a Jody now? Usually its about a deployed guy’s wife getting fucked by another airmen, soldier, whatever.” He pined, “I don’t think there is a term for a gay Jody. And technically, I fucked you so you wouldn’t be a traditional Jody. But… I don’t think the specifics matter. Yeah… you are a Jody. You home-wrecker.” I thought about it for a moment and said, “Then yeah. I’ll stick around tonight. Might as well enjoy the moniker if I’m gonna wear it.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured, “I’ll make sure you earn your title.”
*To be continued…*