CB-118 Infantry Stud

FOREWORD

“What do you say, Mac?” Sergeant Stryker asked Corporal McKloskey, his assistant.

McKloskey looked Alvin up and down. “I say he’s a fucking candy-ass. That’s what I say.”

“You do, huh?” Stryker pondered. “You know, you may have a point. What do you say we examine the evidence first-hand?”

“Sounds right to me.”

“Okay boy,” Stryker said to Alvin, “let’s bare ‘em and spread ‘em.”

Alvin gulped. He was scared out of his mind.

He’d been subjected to ridicule and humiliation ever since day one of basic training, but this was so far beyond his most depraved nightmares that he still wasn’t even sure that it was happening.

But then, he dropped his pants as they’d instructed, and Stryker said, “Boy, bend over.”

And Alvin did.

“Well… I’ll tell you what, Mac,” said Stryker as Alving felt a finger starting to probe the inside of his ass, “it don’t seem like it’s made of candy, but it sure looks sweet.”

“It sure does Sarge. What do you say we check it out a little closer?”

“Sounds like a fine idea.”