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American Government NAVY Fags
Duration: 1:19
Views: 4
Submitted: 4 hours ago
Submitted by:
Description:
Two Navy fags — Ensign Chad “Cocksleeve” McFairy and Lt. Brad “Bilge Diver” Limpwrist — were down in the enlisted berthing on the USS G-Fag (hull number FAG-69, “The Floating AIDS Factory”) getting their starboard shit-chutes annihilated during a mid-watch “maintenance evolution.” These two pillow-biting swabbies had been swapping man-juice since BUD/S dropout camp, but tonight was special: full-on underway replenishment, cocks as rigid as a broke-dick frigate in a typhoon.
Chad’s bent over a top rack like a common deck whore, trousers at his ankles, pasty ass cheeks spread wider than the Strait of Hormuz. His little dicklette is leaking like a faulty seawater valve while Brad rails him raw with a veiny destroyer that’s seen more ass than a toilet seat in Norfolk. “Give it to me, you cum-guzzling anchor clanker!” Chad squeals in that high-pitched fairy voice, his crackerjack hat flopping around like a used rubber. “Torpedo my prostate harder, shipmate! Flood my ballast tanks!”
Brad’s pounding away, balls slapping louder than a 5-inch gun mount, grunting like a walrus in heat. “Take it all, you rudderless sea pussy! This is what ‘man the rails’ really means, you ass-blasted swish. I’m gonna pump so much navy nut into your colon you’ll be shitting white caps for a month!” Sweat and ass juice are pooling on the deck like an oil spill, the whole compartment smelling like diesel fuel, ball sweat, and broken dreams. Every thrust makes Chad’s eyes roll back like he’s taking a depth charge to the skull.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew — a glorious rainbow coalition of diversity hires, third-world ring-knockers, and affirmative-action admirals — is circled around jerking their sad little enlisted cocks. The Chief of the Boat, a fat E-7 lifer who hasn’t passed a PRT since Clinton was in office, is filming it on his government phone for the “ morale video library.” “That’s it, girls,” he bellows, “show those West Coast faggots how Atlantic Fleet really does brown-water ops!”
The CO strolls in mid-thrust — some academy-ring diversity poster boy who got promoted for checking every box except competence — and just sighs. “Carry on, sailors. As long as you’re not crashing another $120 million helo into the ocean or getting another tranny pregnant in port, this is still better readiness than last quarter’s INSURV.” He adjusts his cover and walks out, probably to go cry in his stateroom about retention rates while the entire chain of command pretends this floating bathhouse isn’t a total shitshow….
These two fudge-packers represent the modern US Navy perfectly: overpriced, undermanned, obsessed with pride flags and pronoun training while Chinese hypersonics are aimed at their gay little flight deck. USS G-Fag — where the only thing getting sunk is these degenerate butt-pirates’ colons, where “blue water navy” means how far the lube squirts, and “global force for good” is code for global force for ass-to-mouth. Half the ship is on watch, the other half is either sucking dick in the fan rooms or filing sexual harassment claims because someone looked at their tuck wrong….
By the time Brad finally unloads — a pathetic watery salvo that would embarrass a reserve squadron — Chad’s prolapsed rosebud is winking like a broken navigation light. “Fair winds and following seas, you cum-dump swab,” Brad pants, pulling out with a wet schlorp that echoes through the compartment. They high-five with the same hands they just had knuckle-deep in each other’s rectums, then go back to pretending they’re real sailors.
America’s military: trillions spent, endless wars lost, recruiting nothing but freaks, furries, and faggots while the Chinese build actual warships. But hey, at least our destroyers have the best glory holes in the Pacific. Keep saluting that rainbow flag, you broke-ass, dick-sucking fleet. The only war these clowns are winning is the one against their own sphincters. Anchors aweigh, you glorious ass bandits. May your next deployment be longer than Chad’s ruined guts!
Fuck all American government fags, UP YA’z!
Stateless Warrior
Chad’s bent over a top rack like a common deck whore, trousers at his ankles, pasty ass cheeks spread wider than the Strait of Hormuz. His little dicklette is leaking like a faulty seawater valve while Brad rails him raw with a veiny destroyer that’s seen more ass than a toilet seat in Norfolk. “Give it to me, you cum-guzzling anchor clanker!” Chad squeals in that high-pitched fairy voice, his crackerjack hat flopping around like a used rubber. “Torpedo my prostate harder, shipmate! Flood my ballast tanks!”
Brad’s pounding away, balls slapping louder than a 5-inch gun mount, grunting like a walrus in heat. “Take it all, you rudderless sea pussy! This is what ‘man the rails’ really means, you ass-blasted swish. I’m gonna pump so much navy nut into your colon you’ll be shitting white caps for a month!” Sweat and ass juice are pooling on the deck like an oil spill, the whole compartment smelling like diesel fuel, ball sweat, and broken dreams. Every thrust makes Chad’s eyes roll back like he’s taking a depth charge to the skull.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew — a glorious rainbow coalition of diversity hires, third-world ring-knockers, and affirmative-action admirals — is circled around jerking their sad little enlisted cocks. The Chief of the Boat, a fat E-7 lifer who hasn’t passed a PRT since Clinton was in office, is filming it on his government phone for the “ morale video library.” “That’s it, girls,” he bellows, “show those West Coast faggots how Atlantic Fleet really does brown-water ops!”
The CO strolls in mid-thrust — some academy-ring diversity poster boy who got promoted for checking every box except competence — and just sighs. “Carry on, sailors. As long as you’re not crashing another $120 million helo into the ocean or getting another tranny pregnant in port, this is still better readiness than last quarter’s INSURV.” He adjusts his cover and walks out, probably to go cry in his stateroom about retention rates while the entire chain of command pretends this floating bathhouse isn’t a total shitshow….
These two fudge-packers represent the modern US Navy perfectly: overpriced, undermanned, obsessed with pride flags and pronoun training while Chinese hypersonics are aimed at their gay little flight deck. USS G-Fag — where the only thing getting sunk is these degenerate butt-pirates’ colons, where “blue water navy” means how far the lube squirts, and “global force for good” is code for global force for ass-to-mouth. Half the ship is on watch, the other half is either sucking dick in the fan rooms or filing sexual harassment claims because someone looked at their tuck wrong….
By the time Brad finally unloads — a pathetic watery salvo that would embarrass a reserve squadron — Chad’s prolapsed rosebud is winking like a broken navigation light. “Fair winds and following seas, you cum-dump swab,” Brad pants, pulling out with a wet schlorp that echoes through the compartment. They high-five with the same hands they just had knuckle-deep in each other’s rectums, then go back to pretending they’re real sailors.
America’s military: trillions spent, endless wars lost, recruiting nothing but freaks, furries, and faggots while the Chinese build actual warships. But hey, at least our destroyers have the best glory holes in the Pacific. Keep saluting that rainbow flag, you broke-ass, dick-sucking fleet. The only war these clowns are winning is the one against their own sphincters. Anchors aweigh, you glorious ass bandits. May your next deployment be longer than Chad’s ruined guts!
Fuck all American government fags, UP YA’z!
Stateless Warrior
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