My Army, Myself

It's hard for anyone who hasn't been to war to understand the multitude of feelings that can arise in a soldier during the course of a military career. I've never judge another soldier's actions by the criteria of a civilian society. There are few things to prepare a man for the violence of wartime and its aftermath. At least that's how I look at my life and my behavior along the way. Maybe I'm just blaming it all on war and not accepting that there were tendencies in me that required war to bring forward.

I entered the military at an early age just after high school. By the time I had concluded my first three year tour I had acquired a wife and shortly thereafter a son.

I suppose it was my inability to handle such life changes that caused me to reenlist after completing my first term of service rather than facing the uncertainties of a life in the "normal world."

So reenlist I did and I was soon reassigned to a war zone. Afghanistan was the theater where my life began a radical turn.

As I said earlier, nothing could have prepared me for the aftermath of such violence. The first time that I saw a friend blown in half by an IED, I think my psyche became totally damaged. I began wanting to cling to my buddies, as though time might stop if we held each other closely. Of course, I didn't, that wouldn't have fit the rugged American male that we were all trying to play. But it was a show.

It was in a late night shower as I felt the warm water begin to wash away the dirt and grime of a long day's patrol that I first saw the young man step under the shower head next to mine. Not so young, actually, only a year younger than myself it turned out. However, at 23 I had already begun to acquire a hard patina to my bearing reflecting the strain of too many patrols. He, however, had only recently been assigned to our encampment and still had the shine of youth about him.

I had noticed men's bodies before, what man wouldn't in the desolation of a foreign tour? However, we tried to make do with a silent jack-off under the sheets, recalling images of our wives and girlfriends back home. And there was still the camaraderie that accompanied the occasional grab-ass between soldiers. Though the behavior was acceptable, I was aware that the feel and view of the youthful firmness of a soldier's naked buttocks began slowly replacing thoughts of my wife as I silently played with my cock beneath the covers at night.

Watching the young blonde soldier as he turned his slender body to capture the full effects of the water spraying over him, I fought to resist the lingering that my eyes sought. Instead, I thought that a conversation between men might distract me away from the tingles I had begun to feel in my cock.

"Hey, you're pretty new here at Delta 18, is this your first time in the forward lines?"

He turned and I was struck by the clarity of his blue eyes.

"Yeah," he answered. "I was down in Kabul for a while, but was just reassigned yesterday." He shrugged as he said, "And today I went on my first patrol."

"Was it peaceful?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said pausing as though he should comment any further, "Peaceful I guess," he hesitated before continuing, "but nerve-racking just the same."

"Yeah, it gets better though." I pulled on my soapy cock before continuing, "That's a lie, it never gets better I hate to tell you."

The young man looked back into my eyes before letting his glance drop to my crotch. "I was afraid of that," he muttered.

Taking my hand off my prick which had begun swelling with blood, I extended a handshake to the young man without thinking of how this looked. "I'm Dave, Sergeant Dave Michaels." I was fully aware that my cock was nearly at full staff.

"I'm Cecil, Cecil Falworth," he added, "from Iowa," his eyes lingered on my cock.

We stood facing each other and I noticed him covering his own prick with his spread hand. He was trying to hide the start of a stiffy. But then he suddenly reached over to quickly rub his fingers across my cock, "Is this okay?" he added.

Glancing around the empty shower room, I shrugged. "I don't know," I grimaced with a chuckle, "I've never been in this situation before." We stood each covering our pricks as water plunged down both of our naked bodies. "I guess we can hear somebody coming," I continued with a dumb-sounding replay. "What do we do next?" I softly mouthed the words.

My heart had begun throbbing in my chest. I wanted to leave and was too compelled to stay. Just standing naked with Cecil had opened a whole new world of experiences to me.

"Well I do," Cecil mouthed the words back to me. Then he whispered, "Watch for anyone coming," as he turned and began backing toward me.

I started from the first brush of my penis against his firm ass. He pressed against me and I felt my cock wedge into the cleft between his cheeks as he began rubbing against me. My breathing became hard as I responded to his movements with my own thrusts deeper between his buttocks.

I was moving into him when the young man leaned forward and I felt the tip of my rod began to press downward into the warm stickiness of his ass hole. With the unfamiliar sensations of the tight muscle, I wrapped my arms around the man's slender waist and pressed my lips against his shoulder. It was he who began squirming and I felt my cock head begin plunging into the young man.

It was late and our company was asleep when I felt my hard shaft slide deeper into him and be embraced by the soft warmth of his inside. We stood attached and I felt the swing of his arm as it moved stroking his cock. His moans were soft when I began plunging into him. We were both struggling to contain the hard rasp of our breathing.

I felt my balls begin to tighten while I pumped back and forth in him. The initial tightness of his hole had relaxed and it wrapped my cock in pleasure.

Soon I felt Cecil twist and begin to jerk as he whispered, "I'm cuming."

I knew I could no longer contain the pressure increasing with in me and I held him tightly against me when the first hard squirts of my ejaculation shot from me into him. With each squirt the young man pressed even harder against me. Soon I was spent.

As my passion subsided I became aware of the surroundings, a cold shower room was all that witnessed our interchanges. We both separated and returned to the shower head and water streaming over our bodies. I rinsed my cock with soap as I watched the young man spread his ass cheeks and bend to allow water to rinse over then.

Unsure of what to do next, I watched him wash while turning off my shower. Stepping from the trough of cement boarding the company's shower I began drying while nervously glancing toward the doorway. Though it seemed that we had gone undetected, I was still uncomfortable with what had happened between us.

Finished drying, I wrapped my towel around my waist and stepped into my pair of clogs as I readied to leave the room. Turning toward Cecil, who was still in the process of drying, words failed me except "I'm going."

The young man smiled and stepped from the shower to embrace me as he briefly planted his lips against mine. "Thank you," he said. I was even more uncomfortable with the gesture and turned to leave the room.

I woke with a start the next morning, 30 minutes before revile. Something about the impending day disturbed me. Then I remembered the night before. Things were different now. I'd had sex in the barracks with another soldier. What would this do to my frame of mind? Still, my hard cock beneath the covers called me to fall back into myself and get lost in memories of the shower last night. So I did.

I remembered the feeling of Cecil's hole, the warmth of him, as I began to stroke myself. As a Sergeant I had a relatively private space and once I was certain no one was about I kicked back the cover and treated my throbbing pole to a good massage. In my mind I wanted more of Cecil; I wanted to hold his slender body. As I stroked I remembered the feel of him encompassing my cock. Then when from deep within me the urge for release began once more, I clasped my balls in my free hand and squeezed just as cum shot from me splashing onto my stomach.

After cleaning myself, I dressed for the day in my desert kakis and boots and left for the mess hall. Inside there was the slow muttering of men awakening for the day. I sat with another Sergeant, Patrick, to confer over the day's assignment. My platoon has been given escort duty for a supply convoy heading north into territories teeming with hostiles.

After breakfast I called for a platoon meeting with instructions for our assembly time and place. My group was filled with experienced men who there was little need to discuss preparation. Everyone knew their duties.

I returned to the mess for a 2^nd cup of coffee when I saw him. Cecil had entered the hall with a group and seemed lost in conversation with two others. I watched him until his eyes lifted and before I could divert my own, we both showed smiles. Despite myself I jumped inside over the brightness of his eyes. I felt silly, sort of school girlish, to have this reaction. The soldier in me fought to suppress feelings of excitement. I wanted to walk to him and...and..."What?" I thought; "what did I want to do?" The freshness of last night's memories over shadowed what I knew was a very delicate situation. And even though I had known more fulfillment than I had ever know, I wasn't sure that I wanted to repeat the event.

On the road up, packed inside a tanker truck, I saw next to the soldier riding shot gun. He was a talkative mood, nerves probably, I thought. Though the route had been cleared of insurgents several weeks before, we could never be lax.

"So Serge," he talked on, "Where you from?"

"Colorado," I answered. He was soon telling me of his home in northern Maine, "Where snow gets to deep it take a play just to go to the mail box." He chuckled at that.

I didn't know if that was true having never been to Maine, but it didn't seem to mind to Larry. He chattered, about his home, how he loved the Army, and what a good shot he was. All the while he would touch my leg with a pat, or poke. At first I thought it was just part of Larry's personality. Then when the touches began an occasional squeeze, I had my doubts. Our driver was an Afghan regular, who spoke very little English. He seemed to be oblivious to the two of us.

"So Sarge," Larry asked while giving my thigh a squeeze a little too close to my crotch, I thought. "So Sarge," he repeated, I felt my cock slightly swell from the man's squeezing, "Do you think this old war will ever end, or just go on forever? Maybe our kids will be fighting over here?"

I could only nod that I didn't know, I wasn't a fortune teller. At that point he reached across my lap, letting his thumb press against the crotch of my trousers. I had to ignore the sensation, but knew that they must have been deliberate.

Our supply train was slower as we encountered damaged to the road due to seasonal rains. We knew that no road situation was permanent with unpredictable, extreme weather and poor roads and this trip was beginning to have the hallmarks of a bad one.

We had several stops to make, unloading supplies of food and petrol one each occasion. I made contact with each commander to account for the supplies and receive the proper signature. Larry had made himself my escort, though I hadn't requested one. However, it was a bit comforting to have an armed accompaniment since this was Afghanistan and nothing was every completely secure.

I began to have concerns regarding time, and radioed back that we were learning late and might need escorts to meet us on the road back. Night travel in this part of the country wasn't encouraged.

As the day passed, Larry's palm began spending more and more time resting his palm on my leg. His positioning meant that with every sharp turn on our circuitous route I would feel the pressure of his fingers between my legs. Though I tried, I couldn't prevent the swelling in my trousers, which Larry seemed well aware of.

On our last stop, I received permission to return to base even though dark would fall before we got back. Command was comfortable that we would encounter no problems, though a convoy of battle jeeps would be sent out to meet us on our return.

We began the route, with sunset beginning to drop behind distant mountains and temperatures dropping. We had all put on heavy coats. With leaving, Larry resumed his chatter regarding the countryside, Maine, and whatever else crossed his mind. I was trying to keep my attention on the road ahead.

As shadows lengthened and the temperature dropped, I felt Larry's hand slide over under the edge of my coat and between my legs in a bold gesture. I jumped slightly from the touch. I put my hand in my lap to remove his, but instead only rested my palm against the back of his hand. With the increasing pressure, I could feel my cock grow stiffer, pressing against my confining underwear and trousers.

After what seemed like miles, Larry's squeezing had grown more intense. I felt his fingers on the buttons of my fly, then freeing a button as he inserted a finger into my underwear. I had to catch my breath.

The night grew darker and colder. Though heated, the cab of the truck did little against the dropping temperatures. Our driver, Ishmael, kept his eyes peeled on the road and if he was aware of anything going on in the truck, he revealed nothing. The interior remained unlit as a precaution.

My cock distended downward on my thigh. I felt fingers being creep through the fly of my military issue underwear. At first they dwelled in my pubic hair before sliding downward to my shaft. I pushed my hips upward with the feel of his fingers touching me. Soon the man had more buttons undone in my trousers and his hand reaching down into my trousers, surrounding my dick. He began stroking downward while sharp jolts of pleasure shot upward as my cock head rubbed against the stiffness of my trousers.

With the noise of the truck engine, our driver's apparently disinterest, and the darkness inside the cab, I lost myself in the man's touch, humping my buttocks with an awareness of tightening inside my loins. My cum was beginning to gather for its ride upward when Larry leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Can I suck it?"

I was shocked by the suggestion and put my hand down to extract his when he added, "They don't care. Afghan men don't care."

I realized that he was probably right, at least from the rumors around the camp. I reached down to extract my stiff pole through the trouser opening; I placed his hand on me and said quietly, "Go ahead." I was past carrying what anyone thought.

The Private leaned over to place his head downward on my lap and I felt the sudden encounter of his mouth on my burgeoning prick. I gasped, and then allowed myself to relax to the feeling. Larry began contracting his lips and mouth to increase the vacuum on me. I placed my hand on the back of his head and began lightly pushing downward as I clinched my buttocks to rise up meeting his downward thrust.

This continued through most of the ride, over an hour, with only an occasional glance sideward from our driver. If he knew what was happening, he gave no appearance of caring.

The attention from the Private from Maine was nearly overwhelming at times. The incongruence of this situation, of traveling at night in a military truck through a hostile zone with a foreign driver while being sucked off by an enlisted man, left me raptured in the intensity of the feeling. After nearly an hour I began to feel that I could no longer hold my release. I had edged closer and closer through the drive but now knew there was no longer a will to resist. Through my shaft ripped the most shattering explosion of cum that I had ever felt. I heard Larry choke from the sudden pressure of the violent eruption inside his mouth. Then it stopped.

The pungent smell of semen filled the cab of the truck. Larry rolled down the window to spit my discharge out into the cold. Suddenly self-conscious, I reached down to return my shrinking cock to my trousers and button up in time for us to approach our compound.