My Jack-off Instructor

The pages of the booklet in my hand fluttered as a warm breeze came in through the open window at the head of the army bunk I was lying on. To catch the light from the one fixture in my cubicle, my head was at the foot of the bed, my left hand holding the booklet toward the dim light. The rest of the barracks was dark.

I was stretching back somewhat to my right, my body arched, naked, my legs wide apart. The springs on the cot were making loud, rhythmic noises, but I had checked out the barracks that Friday night, and I was certain no one would be around to hear the unmistakable squeaking of a bunk with a guy on it jacking-off. Even so, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. But I was horny. I was hot. I ignored the feeling of being on display as a normal fear of being caught, which heightened the excitement.

My approaching orgasm was near. For about fifteen minutes, I had been reading a well-thumbed pornographic booklet that a sergeant, from the next barracks, had given me late that afternoon. He had asked me if I was going home for the weekend, and I had told him "No". So he handed it to me, saying, "Here's something to brighten up your evening, if you'd like to read it. Be careful, though, it's a hot one."

When I had asked him what it was about, and had called him "Sarge", he'd just smiled and said, "You'll find out. You might like it. And call me Mike, I don't like being called 'Sarge' when I'm off duty."

So as soon as everyone had left the barracks that evening, taking off for home or going into town, leaving me alone, I had started reading it, stopping after the first three pages, completely aroused, to strip off all of my clothes in anticipation of a healthy, private jack-off session. Privacy was hard to come by because the cubicle doorways had no doors and the windows had no blinds. Being alone in the barracks was a rare luxury.

"Damn," I thought, "he was right, this story is getting to me." It was called, "Behind the Green Door" and, though it was basically a straight story, all of the men in it were graphically detailed in the most sexual terms and were involved in many sexual encounters including male to male, which really stimulated me. I had read dirty books before and, knowing secretly that I was gay, I had thought it wouldn't turn me on, but it really did.

My hips were pumping my cock up into my pounding fist more rapidly now, the muscles of my ass and thighs contracting in the rhythm that was being reflected in the noise of the bed-springs.

I looked from the pages of the book to my cock. Pre-cum drooled steadily from the tip, pooling on my abdomen. The smooth, shiny dark cockhead was swollen above my beating fist. It was ready!

"Uhh," I grunted. It shot, sending a powerful jet of cum straight at my face, but because of my angled stretching, missing me, flying over my head.

"Hot damn!" I heard a sexy male voice whisper above and behind my head, inside the doorway of the open cubicle, "that almost hit me way over here. Keep it coming, man!" I recognized Sergeant Mike's voice, and although I was terrified at being caught masturbating, there was no way I could stop, or could want to stop, my orgasm. In that unforgettable instant, I thought, "Fuck it, he gave me this sexy story, he's urging me on, so let him watch the results."

My cum kept spurting, the second shot also flying past my face, the rest hitting my chin, my throat, my chest. The last few joining the pre-cum already pooled in the depression made by my navel on my hard abdomen. Having an audience did nothing to lessen my enjoyment of the strength and intensity of the orgasm.

I strained to look backwards over my head to see Mike. I was astounded to see him, naked, standing so near. His erect cock was in hand, a bold, friendly grin on his face.

"Holy Shit!" I said.

"Good book, ain't it," he whispered back. He chuckled.

Even in as I wondered what to do next, I realized that I could hear music coming softly from the next, darkened barracks. I caught a phrase of a Beatles song:

"...help me get my feet back on the ground.

Won't you, please, help me..."

I reached down to the floor and grabbed one of my army issue socks and wiped the cum off of my body. Then, I swung my legs over the edge of the cot, sat up and looked over at Mike.

I was trying to think of something to say, when he asked, in a serious tone, "You use an army sock for that?"

"They're always close at hand," I managed to say. At that, we both started giggling like naughty boys, then began laughing so hard he even let go of his cock, which swayed in front of him like a tree-branch. It was directly below the light fixture, as in a spotlight, catching my attention. I stopped laughing.

"Looks good, doesn't it," he whispered, after catching his breath, moving in closer, bathing his whole body in the soft glow from the ceiling light. I realized that he knew I was staring at his cock as it swayed with the movement of his body, pulsating, standing straight upright without being touched, staying hard.

His voice mobilized me and I got up from the bed. He moved nearer, stopping in front of me, standing close. My back was to the bed, he was in the center of the room, we were standing in front of the open window, making interesting silhouettes for anyone who might have been watching.

It struck me then that the fluttering pages I had ignored must have been caused by a draft created when he entered the barracks. "But how the hell did he get undressed without my hearing him," I wondered, puzzled. "And what the hell does he want," I asked myself, with concern.

He could see my puzzlement, and explained, "Jack, don't mind me, but I could see you from my second-story window, right up there in the next barracks, just when I was getting ready to go out."

"Shit," I muttered. I hadn't noticed any lights in the next barracks.

"Oh, no. It's Okay. No one's around, as you probably guessed. But, well, you got me so hot, as you can see, that I thought I'd come over here and we'd jack off together. That is, if you wouldn't mind jacking off with a buddy. I like doing it with a buddy. I've known lots of guys who like company while masturbating. Really. It's better than a mirror. You know, a friendly face, a helping hand."

It wasn't what I'd expected. He didn't seem to be coming on to me like he just wanted to suck my cock, as others had tried before in my life. He seemed sincere, friendly, and very sexy. He was here, naked, but inviting me to join him. Neither threatening nor demanding. Offering a little fun and games. I took a closer look at him.

Even though he was nude, I realized that he out-ranked me, of course, but he wasn't that much older than I was. He had a muscular, fit body, healthy looking and masculine, very sexual. Big legs and arms, muscular shoulders, a broad, well-developed chest over a washboard stomach and narrow, trim waist. I liked what I saw.

His casual display of the erect cock and large balls, with his hands-on-hips-feet-apart attitude, all seemed to be saying "Well, are you going to play with me or not?" I wanted to play, but I was confused.

"Yeah, well that's interesting, Mike," I said. "I guess I can understand. But I just shot my wad. You just watched me do it. You got over here too late."

"Your cock doesn't look like it thinks I'm too late," he whispered huskily, seductively. "You may have cum, but it don't look to me like that's put your cock out of action. It looks like it's just gettin' started, rarin' to go. It looks terrific."

I looked down at my cock, surprised at myself. It was hard, throbbing, standing at attention looking fresh and alert. I grabbed hold of the thick shaft and pushed it down, pointing it towards him, studying it. Then, I let go of it, watching it spring up and slap against my abdomen with a loud "thwack" in the quiet barracks. "I'm surprised," I admitted.

"I'm not," he stated. "Looks like you're able and willing to cum more than once a day. You can do it twice in a row, can't you?"

"Well, sure I can," I said defiantly, honestly. "I can shoot almost as often I want to," I boasted, but then realized quickly how immature it made me sound.

"Good," he said, smiling at me broadly, not reacting to the boast, "I want to shoot off now. I want you to do it with me."

"Right here?" I questioned.

"Sure, why not? I'd like to do it with you here in your own cubicle. Because, well, I think it'd be a turn-on for both of us. Something for you to remember when you're alone in here. I like you. Did since the first time I saw you the other day. That's why I gave you the book," he said. He had slipped his hand around his fat cock, again, and was beginning a slow pumping action with his fist.

"Well, Okay," I said, hesitantly, "but only if you agree there'll be no fuckin' around, no touching. I don't go for that stuff."

"Sure," he promised quickly, "whatever you want is okay with me. No fuckin' around, no touchin'. Agreed." An easy smile played on his lips.

He could see that the idea of jacking off again, this time with a buddy joining in, was becoming a real turn-on for me. I grabbed my thick meat and began flailing away with great gusto and enthusiasm, trying, as usual, to reach orgasm at something approaching light speed.

"Whoa! Slow down. Cool off, ease up," he cautioned. "Wait up for me. You've had a head start. Your pump's had a good priming, but I've got a cold engine that wants some attention before it blasts off, maybe a little affection, too," he laughed. He tilted his hips upward, letting me get a good look at the erect meat in his hand, the large balls bouncing beneath to the rhythm of his stroking hand, showing me his firm but controlled grip, his determined but paced approach to the masturbation. "If you rush headlong into this, you'll miss all the fun." His other hand put a firm, holding grip on my forearm, stopping my rapid pumping action.

"Yeah, you're right, I shouldn't overdo it, I guess," I said, feeling a little embarrassed but staring excitedly at his cock, ignoring the touch of his hot hand on my muscular forearm. "I found that I really gotta beat the hell out of it to get off a second load or else wait longer," I explained.

"Fuck waiting," he laughed. "But, hey, let me teach you a couple things about the fine art of masturbation that no one must ever have shown you. Some of the things I've been taught, or shown, or learned from watching, that I've been putting to real good use," he said seductively, his hand moving on his giant cock at an almost imperceptible pace, watching my eyes glued to the action of his fist, "because I love beating off. Don't you?"

"Hell yes," I laughed enthusiastically, looking up to his face quickly, then looking back down at his cock, fascinated. "I do it all the time. But, shit, I guess I must have things to learn, if you say there's a 'fine art' to beating your meat." I looked at him with a puzzled expression. "But who's been teaching you? Who shows you? How do you get to watch? Uhh, umm..." I hesitated, thinking about it. I realized he sensed I was about to be too revealing about what was on my mind, so I decided to change the subject. "Fuck," I said, "My technique is to grab on and pump away till it shoots. Most times I'm so horny it only takes a couple of fast whacks and, whoosh, thar' she blows." His grip on my forearm relaxed a bit as he allowed my hand to mimic my lurid description by giving a few quick beats on my rigid cock. I was faintly aware of the music being played now, catching a phrase from the hit by The Association:

"...I don't know how many times I've tried to hold you. I don't know how many times I've tried to mold you into someone who will cherish me as much as I Cherish you. And I do, Cherish you..."

"Hold on," he laughed, "I get your meaning. But wait a second, there's plenty I can teach you, and believe me, it'll be fun to learn. First off, we can watch each other. That'll be a great start. You're a handsome, exciting guy. And second, we can keep talking as we fuck our fists - it'll keep your mind off cumming so quickly, or thinking that you gotta cum, which is worse. So slow down. Get a real man's pleasure out of jacking off for a change," he persisted, his hand slowing my pumping with renewed firmness on my forearm, while his right hand increased its speed on his cock, forcing my attention to it, my eyes getting bigger.

"That sure looks great," I said, admiringly, "but, hey, what do you mean, by 'thinking that I gotta cum'? I don't follow." My eyes shifted to my forearm and I looked at his hand for the first time but didn't say anything.

"Well, if you think that you gotta cum, or you gotta cum within some time limit, it puts too much focus on the end result and not enough emphasis on the pleasure. Lemme ask you a couple of questions. Okay?" he asked. I nodded. "Can you tell me what you were thinking when you grabbed your meat before and started to beat it so damn fast and so vigorously? Think you can try to explain to me what you were thinking about?" he asked.

Before I could formulate a defensive reply, he raised up onto the balls of his feet, closed his eyes, stretched backwards pushing his crotch nearer and moaned, "Geez, this feels so fuckin' good, Jack." And he urged the forearm he was holding into a livelier stroke, speeding up the continuing beat on my cock and diverting my attention, repeating, "so fuckin' good!"

"Yeah, I can see from the way you're doin' it, that it sure must feel good, and I sure like doin' it, too. But about your questions, fuck, I don't know. I guess I was thinking, uh, well, my cock's more pliant now the second time, and, uh, if I'm gonna cum quick I'll have to really whack it good and fast because I'll never cum if I go slow, and, gee, I guess I was real nervous 'cause I've never done it in front of anyone before, I mean knowing it's in front of somebody, like now, 'cause I realized you'd already watched me shoot a load, and I guess I sort of wondered what you thought about how I did it, you know, about my technique, my style. Shit, you know, man, that kind of stuff," I said with a frankness that surprised me and obviously delighted him.

He released his grip on my forearm, with a patting gesture as his hand pulled away, as if to say "Good boy." He smiled broadly into my eyes and I lit up with my first really friendly smile at him, breaking the nervous tension between us for the moment.

"That's just my point exactly," he exclaimed. "If you reflect on what you've just told me you can realize that, first of all, you were thinking about almost everything else except 'how can I make this jack-off session make me feel really great'. Which is all that matters, isn't it?"

"Hmm ...'this jack-off session make me feel really great,'" I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Well, yeah," I agreed, "I guess that is all that really matters, isn't it?"

"Of course it is." He smiled at me. "You have to realize that you want to make yourself feel great, and to do that you've got start by realizing that you enjoy masturbation. Not just the cumming, the orgasm, but the actual playing with yourself part of it. Do you?"

I thought about jacking off, grinned and said, proudly, "Hell, yes! I've got my cock in my fist because I like it there. I like jacking off. I want it to feel great."

"Damn right," he laughed, "and me, too! Somehow, I knew you'd feel that way, I sensed it about you. But I also mean I love playing with my cock and I play with it all the time, but I really mean PLAY with it. I just don't beat it to death or worry about how quick or how long it may take cum, or how hard or how soft it is," he said, pausing to look down boldly at it, pushing his fist to its base, holding it firmly so we both could get a good look at its size, its shape, the fullness of the thick, meaty shaft, the contours of the glans with its rich, shiny colors and heavy curves, its flaring broad crown and deep rolling indentations, its deep, wide slit at the top, sparkling with a shiny drop of pre-cum. Showing it off. Shifting his hips first to one side then the other so we could see it from different angles.

In a low breathy voice, more to himself than to me, but knowing I was listening to his every word, Mike whispered, "Fuck, I just love to massage it, caress it, stroke it, pump it, beat it. I give it what I know it wants, some attention, a loving hand. I love looking at it. Showing it off. Watching it stand up proud and defiant, ready for a healthy bout with my tight fist." He grew quiet, breathing harder, showing his excitement, his left hand now pulling gently on his scrotum, rubbing his balls, sliding his hand under them, around them, demonstrating his pleasure. "Don't it look great?"

"Fuck, man, it does look fantastic when I stop and really look at it," I sighed quietly but with feeling.

My hand, moving hypnotically to the same slow pace he was using, had changed its grip, its hold. It was trying to follow Mike's example, handling my cock somehow more lovingly, caressing it, coaxing blood into the deep crimson cockhead, which had become taunt and shiny, smooth and marble-like.

A line from the Jimi Hendrix song now being played in the next barracks penetrated my consciousness:

"...Let me stand here, next to your fire..."

I was still staring at Mike's throbbing meat. "Yeah, it really looks fucking fantastic!" I repeated.

"Yeah, I know. It does," he whispered back, not wanting to break the spell, "and so does yours, man. Take a look at it. Wow!"

I looked down at my own cock quickly. An expression of surprise came over my face. "Holy Shit!" I exclaimed with glee, "Lookee here. Fuck, my dick looks great!" I looked at him in awe. "How'd this happen? I can't remember when it's looked so..." I studied the enflamed member intently, pushing my hips forward to give him a better look at it, searching for the right words, "...so, hell, I don't know, uhh, so hot, so loaded, so ready!" I smiled brightly at him, saying, "What did you do, man?"

"Me?" he laughed. "What do you mean, me? Your cock's in your hand, not in mine. I've got my own cock in my hand. I didn't do anything. But maybe you'll agree, now, that taking your mind off speed and cumming, and focusing on pleasure, starts giving you a bonus."

"Hell yes," I laughed, "a bonus penis!"

I'd heard someone say that before, but saying it now tickled both of us and we giggled together, noisily, like kids, bumping into each other with our elbows, our shoulders, as if doing a sexy dance.

We had become friends in that instant. I could look at him without the suspicion and doubt I had started with. He was giving me something that I realized I wanted, and had probably always wanted. Knowledge about myself! Freedom from the guilt I'd always had about masturbation. Freedom from the fear I'd felt when looking at another man and feeling sexually aroused. New understanding of the sexual pleasure I could take in my own vibrant body without feeling the need to explain or apologize for it. Understanding that I could do for myself what I had always thought, somehow, others would have to do for me to bring real sexual pleasure into my life. And a realization, at the same time, that others might bring me a level of sexual pleasure I had never expected. I felt emancipated. Secure for the first time in my life. I felt I had grown up.

"Here. Now let's get a good look at this thing you're saying I've influenced," he said, getting much closer, squatting down in front of me, putting a firm grip with his left hand on my muscular upper thigh for balance and support, and making a show of boldly taking a close look at my over-sized, well-developed, fully erect cock, while continuing on his cock the hypnotically steady pace he was maintaining for our mutual masturbation.

"Shit," I whispered loudly, "What're you doin'? You agreed there'd be no fuckin' around, no touchin'. I don't think I go in for that stuff."

"I know, I know," he laughed. "Don't get your balls in an uproar, I'm not going to touch 'em or anything else," he assured me, looking up into my face with a reassuring grin. Smiling, I was sure, at my expression that "I don't think" I go in for it.

"Relax." he continued, "Let me just enjoy a good look, see how things stack up down here, compare your equipment with mine, watch you work it up. Get in close. Study it good. You gotta know by now that I enjoy looking at it, at you." He kept talking while making a show of great interest, leaning his head way over to one side then the other, changing his grip on my thigh, after he had steadied himself, to a subtle massaging pressure, keeping the steady beat on his own stiff erection.

"Both of us can get a lot more fun out of this, if we just keep remembering' to lighten up, to have fun, to keep the pace real slow and easy," he reassured me, pulling on his cock. He could see me relaxing as the awareness hit me that I was starting to understand what he'd been trying to get me to think about. Our mutual enjoyment. If I'd relax, just enjoy myself, he'd enjoy himself.

I saw his cock, down there beneath my own, and realized that I could watch both at once. My hand kept moving on my cock, pumping at the same rate he was setting. His nearness was no longer making me nervous, it was making me hot!

"Man," he whispered, earnestly, "you sure got a some tool. I wish mine looked that good. It's so handsome!" He grinned his most appealing smile up at me and he saw me melting, letting sexual feelings overtake my concern, enjoying the excitement of his sexy talk. I was amazed how good it made me feel to hear him describe my own equipment to me with such feeling and sincerity in his voice.

"Yeah, it is a nice one, isn't it," I whispered down to him, stroking it for his pleasure now, showing it off to him. "But from up here, yours looks awfully exciting." My voice sounded like a purr. I wanted to flatter him, to compliment him, to give him the same pleasure his words were giving me. I went on, saying softly, "Mike, I like looking at your cock, too. It's awesome. I can't take my eyes off it. Its perfect."

"Naw, not compared to this beauty right in front of my eyes," he said, staring at my rigid member. Mine was big. But his was as big, I decided, and it looked so good that I began to wonder what it would be like to touch it, to play with it, to feel it in my hand, to stroke it for him, to masturbate him to orgasm.

Then I realized I had better ask more questions if I were to learn what the 'fine art of masturbation' was really all about, yet he seemed to keep getting me off the track. I had to try to question him more, but we were both getting so hot it was difficult to concentrate. I was having too good a time, too much fun!

"And, man," he went on, a note of awe in his voice, "look at these balls, bouncin' up and down here in this tight sac - I've never seen such big, perfect ones. They must feel good now, ready to shoot another big load."

"They feel real good." I grinned down at him, but he could see that my eyes were watching his cock, which had expanded to its maximum fullness and colored to it deepest tones, looking hot between his squatting legs, his hand pulling the skin up and pushing it down on the thick shaft, covering and exposing the fleshy, giant cockhead. "But I'll tell you, Mike, I'm not trying to shoot off real quick now. I've been thinking about what you said about taking it slow, playing with it, and it's got me real hot. Not cumming hot, you know, just playful hot. And I want you to enjoy looking at it now, and I want to enjoy looking at yours. Do'ya know what I mean?"

"Whew!" he said, exhaling his hot breath right onto my balls, making them jump noticeably in their sac, making my knees weaken. "I sure do know what you mean, but I gotta tell you, you're so great about this, and you're getting me so hot, that I'm beginning to think I won't be able to hold off much longer. This talking is really getting to me."

He raised himself up, pulling against my hip to do so, standing so close that our pumping hands almost touched. He looked me in the eye and said, "I hope you're glad now that I caught you with your hot meat in your hand."

"Oh, yeah," I sighed, breaking the intense gaze by looking back down to our hot cocks. "I hated it at first, but now I understand a lot of things better, and I am really glad you came into my cubicle and caught me beating off. I know you're teaching me something, aren't you? I'd even like to show you my appreciation, somehow." I hesitated, letting him come up with an idea to express my gratitude. Certain that he wouldn't disappoint either of us.

"Wanna take a close look at mine, like I did with yours," he asked, seeming to ignore my hint. It was an exciting idea. My eyes lit up. He grinned.

I was already kneeling before I said, "Hey, what a great idea." Then I tried to be as calm and detached as he seemed to be looking at mine, but with the giant cock directly in front of my face, so close that I could feel its heat on my cheek, my nose, my forehead, it was difficult to be clinical. I felt I knew why he had gotten so hot.

Getting that close to a hot cock was the most erotic thing I'd ever done. The one thing I hadn't expected was the impact on me of the heavy, clean masculine odors surrounding him, moving though the air currents caused by his pumping hand and by my heavy breathing.

He began giving me, well, what he called "helpful directions" from above. "The first," he said, "is: 'Stop beating off so fast or you'll shoot all over the floor'." He laughed. I blushed and realized that I had indeed begun again to flail away in my usual speedy style because of this new excitement in front of me.

"The second is: 'Try squatting rather than kneeling'. It'll give your cock and your balls more freedom with easier access. It makes playing with 'em more interesting. And, besides, it's easier on your poor knees."

He didn't mention that trying to move from a kneeling position to a squatting position, without first standing up, especially when as inexperienced at doing it as I was, meant that, for balance and assistance, the first thing I had to do was to put one hand around one of his big thighs, and pull.

I pulled my face and his huge cock together for a brief, informal but very thrilling moment. He had, somehow, managed to withdraw his hand from his cock at just the "wrong" time, and the full pressure of his meaty penis and heavy, large scrotum burned their image into my consciousness along the entire length of my flushed face, the wiry, dark hair on his balls tickling against my lips, the clean masculine odor overwhelming me.

I wanted the contact to last, but I tried to break it. His muscular legs, one of which I was still trying to use to help extract myself from my predicament, tensed to form a solid base for his body but did nothing to assist a break in the contact. To get into a full squat, I actually had to push forward, harder against the heat of his organs. His rigid cock throbbed in sexual excitement from the encounter. He said nothing. I could feel him looking down at me. I didn't know what to do. I chuckled in embarrassment. It never occurred to me to drop my grip on my cock and use both hands. I was having too much fun! And so was he!

Regaining my balance, and coming to rest in the squat, I pulled back and looked up at him, my face burning red. "I lost my balance," I said feebly.

With a straight face, he looked down at me, his cock waving in the air out of the corner of my eye, and deadpanned, "I thought you said No Fuckin' Around, No Touchin'. You changing the rules, or somethin'?" Then he threw back his head and laughed hard, and in doing so caused his penis to flop forward and bump me on the chin, making us both laugh together.

But he grabbed his cock again, resuming a determined masturbation, deliberately giving me a perfect view now that I was in the right position and so near. His cock was awesome. A real man's meat: a heavy, thick steely shaft covered with easy-drawing dark flesh lined with bluish veins, standing rigid above a massive set of balls in a tight scrotum covered with dark, curly hair, the shaft topped by a huge, helmet-shaped cap looking almost twice as big around as the shaft itself, finely chiseled, shiny smooth, sharply flanged and set with a deep indentation holding the cum-slit glistening with pre-cum in the bulbous top. It took my breath away. Kissing it occurred to me.

An unfamiliar feeling came over me. A tightening in my guts, swirling around in my abdomen, overwhelming me with pleasurable intensity, like the beginnings of an orgasm, but somehow even more intense, drawing my balls up tight against my the base of my cock, which I seemed to be holding to stop an orgasm, rather than to bring one on.

I looked up at him. He must have seen something in my eyes because he gave me a sweet smile, and said, "The third "helpful direction" is: 'You've played with yours all of your life, try playing with mine!' You'll love it," he said, huskily, "and so will I."

He released his meat and started rubbing his lower abdomen seductively, lingering in the pubic hair area, his cock vibrating rigidly in front of my longing eyes.

He didn't push it at me. He didn't laugh or cajole, fidget or mutter. He just gave me time to make up my own mind.

My hand reached out toward the hot flesh with a mind of its own. The long fingers wrapped firmly around the shaft as if they did it every day. I heard a sigh from above.

I figured his next "helpful direction" would be: "Suck it!" I wondered how I'd respond to such a command. I would need a lot of time to make that kind of decision, no matter how good the hot instrument in my hand looked to me.

But his next statement surprised and pleased me.

"The fourth "helpful direction" is: 'Tell me what you like, and let me tell you what I like.' Because, you see, Jack, I know what makes me feel good - like, loosen your grip just a bit. Yeah, that's it. And when your hand reaches the bottom of the stroke, use your little finger, your pinky, to rub into my patch of cock hair. Oh, yeah, that's it, I love that.

"If you don't listen, or are too dumb to say what you like," he continued, "you can't expect to have a good time. I've never met a mind reader in my life, and I never even tried to be one. Ask if you're wondering whether I like something, I'll let you know. Jack, if you think about it right now, you'll see that the reason we get along so well is that we've been talking to each other, letting each other know what we like, what we want. Of course, it helps that you're such a randy dude, too," he chuckled.

Sure I was hearing what he was saying, but my eyes were riveted on his cock in my hand inches from my face. I was stroking it with the same easy movements he had used himself, and my other hand kept up the matching beat on my own cock.

"Use the squat to your advantage, Jack," he whispered down to me. I wondered what he meant, glad now that the army put such emphasis on squatting in training and calisthenics. He went on, explaining, "Raise yourself up higher, if you want. Look from different angles, from above, or example. Here, try it." He leaned back just a bit, and I rose up, my chin even with his navel. "Now, bend your head over and look straight down at my cock," he breathed, heavily.

My hair brushed lightly against his firm stomach, making my scalp tingle. I opened my eyes and looked down. I wanted to gasp, but was so close to the tip of his cock that I thought it would be sucked into my mouth if I took a deep breath, it was that close. I could feel the heat of it on the tip of my nose. The smell of it was magical, making me feel light-headed. My lips were so near to the drop of pre-cum on the purple-red glans that I felt I had to lift my head upward to avoid licking it into my mouth. I wanted to lick it. After all, I had raised my fingers to my mouth licking off my own pre-cum often enough, how much different could this be, I wondered.

Before I could raise my head, though, Mike's fingers started to massage my neck muscles, lightly, with no downward pressure. "Do you like what you see, Jack?" he asked gently. The massaging action of his fingertips felt great, the broiling feelings in my abdomen spread upward. I had never felt so sexually alive, so bursting with feeling and emotion.

"Jeez, Mike, this is unbelievable. I've never seen my own cock up this close. If I had a moustache, I'd be tickling the head of your cock with it, that's how close I am to it," I related. "Pumping it like this, watching the skin come up to the flange, come over the crown, seeing the buildup of pre-cum in this pool at the tip, is really something else. I see why you suggested this."

"Yeah. Ain't it great? The best view in the world," he sighed. "And your talk is touching my cockhead with little puffs of air that're driving me wild, Jack. But, hey, while you're there, up in the high squat position, reach down and play with your balls. See how they keep cool hanging clear like that? See how you can reach behind them and play with your own ass. Isn't that much better than kneeling?"

Fondling my balls and running my hand under them towards my own asshole was more erotic than I could have imagined. I had rarely tried to improve my own enjoyment by involving more than my cock during masturbation. But now I was so hot that I could easily release my cock from my hand and it stayed perfectly rigid, completely ready. In fact, I needed to let go of it now and then just so I wouldn't come before I wanted to. This gave me a chance to explore my own body more completely, focusing on erogenous areas like my balls and my ass for what was really the first time in my life.

"Jack," he whispered, "here's something else. Something I like, but you might not like."

"What's that, Mike?," I asked, anxious to please him, thinking he might want me to suck his cock now, waiting for his instruction. "You haven't led me wrong yet."

"Try switching hands! See how your left hand feels on your cock, try your right on mine. What d'you think?" he asked, and then gasped as my right hand reached for his balls instead of his cock, as he'd been expecting. I pulled gently on the scrotum, lightly tickling the hair, blowing my breath down the thick cock onto them. His hips began to shift and move in an erotic pattern. I could tell he was loving it. The cockhead pushed closer to my mouth, rubbing my nose.

"Mike, are there any more 'helpful directions'?" I asked, somehow figuring that he'd say, "Start Sucking".

He chuckled softly and said, "The fifth, and last 'helpful direction' for really happy masturbation, the one which will qualify you for a certificate in the 'Fine Art of Masturbation', is this: 'Make your own decisions'."

He said each word carefully, emphatically.

"Huh?" I managed to blurt out, standing straight up to look at him.

"Jack, I thought I'd like to get to know you, to try having some sex fun with you, that's why I gave you that porno book, hoping you'd use it to jack off with, like you did, and that I'd catch you at it, like I did. Yes. I admit it. I set this all up tonight. I even watched while you shot that first load, knowing this second one would be even better.

"But, I'm a decent guy. You're a great fellow. I'd rather have your lifelong friendship than your eventual dislike because at just the wrong moment I insisted, for my own selfish gratification, that you do something you later realize you wished you hadn't done, but that at the time, because of pressures or emotions, you gave into and did. I don't like slaves, and don't need any. I want friends, and lovers, who make up their own minds, make their own decisions. Whom I can believe when they tell me something feels good to them, because I know they are honest with themselves, and therefore honest with me. They aren't just kissing my ass, lying to themselves and to me, hoping that they might be saying the right things. That sucks, Jack. Honesty is the only basis for a healthy relationship, and, man, do I want a healthy relationship with you."

"Geez," I said, dumbstruck.

"I know," he said, "it's too much for one session, isn't it? Tell you what, I've got an idea. Let's go down to the latrine and finish jacking off in the shower. We won't have to use up more of your socks," he laughed, "and I'll tell you what our 'Golden Rule' is. You're going to like it. Okay?"

"Great," I replied, anxious to go with him. "I'm ready!," I said, grabbing my towel from the end of the bed.

We left the cubicle and went down the darkened hallway to the latrine. Both of our cocks were swaying rigidly in front of us. Mike rubbed a hand up my back and put his arm around my shoulder, while instinctively, my arm slipped around his waist, our bodies rubbing together sensuously as we walked toward the shower and our first orgasm together as friends.

"Don't turn on the water, Jack," he cautioned me as we got into the narrow shower room. "Let's just stand here in this bright light facing one another and have a man-to-man beat off, covering each other with our cum. What do you think of that idea?"

"Super!" I replied, "that sounds terrific. We'll both be equal, both even. I like that," I said enthusiastically, forgetting about the desire I was finding in myself to suck his cock, getting into the genuine mutual masturbation scene that he was so carefully teaching me. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot.

"But, Mike," I asked, "what is the 'Golden Rule'?"

He smiled, his eyes dropping down to my cock, saying nothing. He pressed closer, so did I, our feet, calves, thighs, lightly rubbing, touching with the motions of our bodies as we both stroked our cocks in unison. Our hands were locked together, back to back. We were jacking each other off, in a way.

We were breathing heavily, blowing hot breath down onto our cocks. He looked up at me. I looked into his eyes.

"The 'Golden Rule'," he whispered quickly, "is: 'Always let your partner know when you are about to cum'!

"I'm about to cum, now," he grinned. "I'd like us to cum together, so, if you can, let me know when you're about to shoot your load. It's better when it's together.

"Fuck." I whispered, excitedly, looking into his eyes. "I'm right there with you. Say the word and I'll shoot."

We looked back down at our pumping fists, our enflamed cocks. We were down to short, slow strokes, each bringing us nearer orgasm. Our hips bucking forward, our balls gently bumping together. We realized we were both savoring the pleasure of it.

"Let's do it on the third downstroke," he said.

"One," he cried.

"Two," I called out, huskily, my voice breaking with the emotion of it.

"Three," we said together and watched as both cocks began spewing hot, white liquid over both of us. Some landed on my neck, some on his shoulder. Our chests and stomachs became soaked in the heavily musky semen, which filled our nostrils with its rich, erotic aroma.

We thought the orgasm wouldn't end. Our hips pumped, our bodies collided, our cocks pressed together as we removed our hands from them.

We looked at each other, our bodies wrapped together. I wiped the sperm off of his shoulder.

His serious, loving expression changed to a grin.

"Hot Damn. You're some hot fuckin' MAN!," he sighed.

I just kept grinning at him, lost for words. He understood. I guess he could see it all in my eyes.

After some time of holding on tightly to each other, catching our breaths, enjoying the aftershocks of the unforgettable orgasm we had shared so completely, we realized it was time to break apart. Reluctantly we separated.

"Let's rinse off. We're really covered with cum!" he laughed.

We bathed in cool water, together, under one shower head, enjoying the invigorating spray, the intimacy of the contacts our bodies made as we bumped together cleaning ourselves, yet playing like kids, soaping each others' backs, our asses, our thighs. Reviving from the heady emotions that had left our heads spinning.

Then, standing in the latrine, sharing my towel to dry us both off, I asked Mike, "What did you mean when you said that you 'set this all up tonight'. Is there something you haven't told me? Are others in on this? Have we been watched?"

"Do you feel you're being watched, Jack?" he questioned back.

"Well, no. But... well, sort of. Its hard to put my finger on it."

"You don't feel threatened do you?" he persisted.

"Shit no," I replied emphatically. "I just keep wondering how you showed up in my cubicle without your clothes on and no towel. What'd you do, come over here naked?" I chuckled, pleased with myself for expressing what had been on my mind.

"Answer a question truthfully, will you, Jack?" he asked.

"Of course, Mike, shoot."

"Did you like what we've done tonight?"

"Hell yes. That's an easy answer," I smiled.

"What if I told you I belong to a group of men who carefully screen every new man on this post and select a very few that might be given a chance to be chosen to join with us for sexual activities, mainly mutual masturbation, but not restricting any mutually agreed upon activity. Would that shock you? Would you think less of me? What would you do?"

The questions hung between us in the warm air of the latrine, as I considered my response, realizing that it could be very important to my future.

"What would I do?" I repeated, pondering my reply. "I'd keep my mouth shut!" I said seriously.

Mike let out the wildest, loudest, western sounding "Whoopee", that I've ever heard, throwing his head back and roaring with very loud laughter. I thought he'd cracked up and I wanted to hush him up. After all we were standing together naked in an army barracks latrine at about 21:30 hours on a warm Friday evening with the windows open and with only one towel between us.

"Shh! Com'on, Mike. We'll get into trouble," I cautioned, concerned for him as much as for myself.

"Jack, you've just passed the tests with a perfect score. We do have a club, and you are now officially its newest member. No initiation rites, no further testing. You're in. Shit, am I happy about this. You're too good. I'll tell you all about it, but right now, let me tell you that we are secure. There are guards on both doors of this barracks, and on both doors of the barracks on either side of us, and others are keeping the outside area around the barracks clear. No one we don't allow in can get near. We're safe. Do you understand?

"You mean 'Barracks Guards', like in training camp?" I looked puzzled.

"No, no," he laughed. "Friends, helping me give you the tests. Watching us, jacking off with us from darkened windows where you can't see 'em. Giving me moral support with their presence, and help so that we aren't caught or interrupted.

My cock started swelling again!

"What do you think of this?" he asked. "Are you shocked?"

"Shocked?" I laughed, now. "Mike, I'm getting a hard-on!"

He let out another whooping laugh. "Jeez, you're something else," he sighed. "But you have to agree to say nothing. I am instructed specifically to ask that of you, formally."

"Christ, I agree, formally," I answered, really surprised at his honesty with me. "But Mike," I asked, with a serious expression on my face, "are you sure that we are completely safe here?"

"Absolutely," he said confidently.

"In that case," I said, breaking into a grin, "let's do it again!"

His head flew back with hardy laughter. He grabbed me, saying, "Come here, you sex fiend. You've just graduated at the top of your class. Here's the start of your reward." His strong arms wrapped around me. My instinct, at first, was to melt into them, but I understood in that instant that I was grown up, and I returned his warm embrace with strength and with tenderness, sharing my warmth with him, drawing pleasure from his warmth.

We held each other for a long time, not wanting to let the moment slip easily by. I could hear sexy music coming through the open window, and I felt alive!

Remember: "Safe Sex" does NOT mean "No Sex".