By: Unknown Author
Like everyone else in the Navy, I've always heard what a good time Australia was. Unlike a lot of guys, though, I didn't hanker for bars filled with the randy "sheilas" that were supposed to be sure things. When we pulled into Freemantle, I didn't even stop by the local pubs: I headed straight into Perth to see whether I could come up with anything interesting.
I'd gotten to talking with one of my random fucks, before the ship left San Diego, and he suggested I stop by the Dangerous Dingo for the best possible time Down Under. I was a very cocky 19-year-old seaman apprentice with the body of a god and a dick out of legend, or so I told folks whenever I got the chance.
I'd seen enough places like the Dingo in the US to know I wouldn't have trouble finding a good time. I was a young slut who'd do anything that popped into my nasty little mind. I once bet another guy I could swallow more loads inside three hours than he could. I won.
Most of the time, I was more interested in quality action though, whether one-on-one or in very select groups. Being in the Navy, I had a built-in source of buttholes to fuck when I was in the US. Once we deployed, though, I was sensible enough to know that I had to keep my dick dry aboard ship.
I blew plenty of loads into a hunky young marine when we spent two days in the Philippines, but except for those thirty-eight hours of satisfaction, the previous two months had been a long, slow cruise down the palm-drive expressway. I needed the Dangerous Dingo in a very big way and saw the moment I walked through its teak doors and into the locker room that I'd come to the right place.
Perth is the city of Western Australia. Every kind of dick swings through it at one time or another. You can find stockmen from the Outback, prospectors from Alice Springs, Navy dick from countries around the world, and every other stiff sort of one-eyed man-meat you could hope for. The Dingo that night had its share of variety, and I reamed butt for about an hour before I decided that I needed something more. The "mates" I'd juiced were hunky enough and took my nine-plus inches like men, but once I'd drained my sap down to acceptable levels, I grew selective. These guys were ok, but I was out for the best.
I ambled around, peering into darkened rooms the size of closets, hung out in the sauna and steam room, and even popped into the private viewing booths to see what was up. Plenty was up, but it wasn't what I was looking for.
Then I ambled through the locker room and saw him, the one I had been looking for. He wasn't in uniform, but I knew he was a squid of some sort. The close-cropped hair and race-tracks around the ears guaranteed he was military, but something about the glint in his cat-green eyes told me he was Navy. I just prayed he wasn't one of ours. I'm as patriotic as the next guy, but I wanted Aussie dick that night. I hadn't come all the way to Oz to fuck some kid from Kansas.
I lounged for a minute against a scuttlebutt, watching carefully, and obviously, as he stripped off his t-shirt and jeans and draped a towel around his hips. His uncut dick whispered that he was fresh local meat. I read somewhere that fifteen percent of American men are uncut, but just try finding one when you have to. In Oz, you can't swing a kangaroo without bumping into a guy with all-natural meat.
All that being said, though, it wasn't only that uncut cock or the fact he had a store of seaman semen up his bilges, or even that he was Aussie that yanked my chain hard and got my attention. His combination of randy stud-hood and innocence yanked my crank like nothing in my young life.
I'd like to say it was the eyes that won me over for keeps, but the truth is it was his butt. I'd seen butts. If the Nobel folks gave a prize for delving into butts instead of physics or chemistry, I'd have won it years ago.
Although I didn't know it at the time, he also had one other thing going for him: the crack in his ass was soft and completely hairless. I could see that his muscles were ok. He wasn't going to be that year's Mr. Universe, but his pecs and arms were good, his belly was flat, and with that butt, I had seen enough to convince me he was the man for me.
I stood watching and wondering for several moments as he fiddled with his lock and I tried to decide how to get me up his butt. I figured another surface warrior would respond to the direct approach, so I padded up beside him, gave his butt an unsolicited, but fraternal pat, and asked, "How'd you like to show a fellow sailor far from home a little fine Australian hospitality?''
His eyes lit up the second I opened my mouth. He said he'd heard there was a fresh lot of Yanks in town, but he hadn't expected to have the pleasure of ramming his hard Aussie dick up any Yank ass.
I smiled back at his accent and said I figured since I was the guest in his fine country, he'd want me on top while he stayed down under, but that we could let nature take its course.
Since neither of us had reserved a room, we decided to start off with a good wash. He'd no sooner dropped his towel as we stepped into the huge tiled shower than my hand was on his ass, cupping his cheeks and sliding my fingers between those delicious mounds.