Randy, excited, with cock stiffened by the texture, look, feel and smell of all that khaki, with its army/scout/policeman/workman memories and male associations, I only wish there had been a man's mouth there ready to catch and swallow my hot, fresh spunk. When there's no mouth or bumhole available to shoot into sometimes I toss myself off into the flap back pocket of a pair of army shorts. As I don't like to wash the dried spunk out (the filthier it gets, the better!), over time the pocket lining gets crusty and hard and makes it uncomfortable to rub my poker-stiff hoosie against it - it can even cut if I'm not careful. Because of this, through the years I've gone through quite a number of shorts, some of which have eventually disintegrated through the extreme rough treatment and pumping they get, if they last that long. Coming up to the moment of climax I like to imagine I'm an army rookie, having been ordered to lick clean the unwiped shithole of a sadistic sergeant who's just had a cack and thinks it a great joke to make me use my tongue as toilet paper, maybe having plopped a big, warm, choc-fudge coloured, steaming, plump
turd onto the middle of my naked chest - or face. "YES SIR!!!" (By the way, I've just creamed myself writing this.)
