Army Days

It was a typically hot day at basic training. I was still basically a horny teenager, as were most of the others at basic. Long, steamy nights in the barracks were often punctuated with the louder hackers as they got close and relieved themselves. Nobody bothered anyone else for taking care of what needed taking care of, just a lot of boots and hollers when a loud jacker did the deed. 

The showers were typical gang showers, the kind we were used to in school. The rigors of basic and the oppressive summer heat made showering more of an exhaustion relief than a testosterone-fueled buddy fest like school sports meets had been. Still there were random boners and plenty of teasing when they happened. It happened to all of us - and a lot of the time the teasing was rebutted with the occasional challenge to “come on over here and take care of it” or the like. 

One late afternoon, after a ten mile run, my platoon was in near collapse in the tepid water afterward. I didn’t even realize that my dick was raging as I stood, the rest of my body limp like everyone else after the punishing exertion, soaking under the cascade of water.  Another guy, Blake, standing next to me a quarter-turn around the pipes, noticed my unmistakable (if i do say so myself, I compared favorably to the majority of the other guys, and i dwarfed Blake in that department!) boner and smacked it HARD and started taunting me. I reacted by tackling him, and we basically had a brawl that got broken-up by a corporal. The strange thing was many of us had wood by the time the brawl was over. 

Later in the early evening, in a futile bid for some relief from the heavy humid night, I was outside the mess hall, leaning against its concrete and block side that had been out of the sun, attempting to soak up some coolness. Blake swaggered up and plopped himself next to me, smoking. After a “What do you want, asshole? To grab my big dick again?” greeting from me, he laughed, and leaned back next to me. Finally he said, “You know, Sherbourne, we all have the same needs, buddy.”

I was suddenly frozen. Guys didn’t talk about stuff like that. What was more terrifying was that he started adjusting himself in his fatigues as he talked about the long stretches between liberty, the difficulty finding pussy when we did get liberty...

The only time I’d ever jacked with anyone was a middle school friend, way back when we were learning what it was all about, and that happened one too many times, when we jacked each other, it got too weird, and it ruined our friendship. 

I heard the zip, and right there, in the now total darkness, Blake had his dick out and was stroking, still talking. “Go ahead, Sherbourne. I know you need to as bad as I do.”

I couldn’t argue. The fear and paralysis seemed to be superseded by the primal need, and soon there I was with my own dick out, stroking next to him. 

“Damn, bud, you’re big! But bet I shoot farther.” Blake always challenging in some macho way, and it seemed my day to be his target competitor. If we’d been dogs, he’d have been the Chihuahua taking on the German Shepherd... or, in my case more appropriately, the Irish Wolfhound. 

I briefly considered stuffing my big hardon back into my fatigues and leaving him there, but dammit I couldn’t, and the game was on. 

He blathered on about pussy, and I was worked-up hearing his probably made-up cocksmanship, horny as all get-out myself. It wasn’t long, though it seemed difficult to get my nut at the time, the situation a big conflict in my head I guess. Finally, with a strangled “Here it comes,” he let loose amid grunts while I still jacked furiously. 

It was like the heavens conspired, because the moon came out from behind clouds in time to fully illuminate his dick, glistening and wet, and the arc of his cum was indeed impressive. It was only two strong shots before the dribble of the the rest, but those two were damn impressive.  

Exhausted but self-satisfied, he was breathing hard, now slumped back again against the block wall, his dick soft but still out while I jacked furiously. “Guess with a big one like that it takes more work?” he said, not helping one bit. And then he reached over and said, “Let me help you with that.” 

I was stunned and scared and KNOCKED his hand away and shouted too loud, “What the fuck? You a homo or something?”

He shoved me back against the wall harder than I would have expected he could have. The Chihuahua rivaling the Wolfhound. “Just relax, dumbass!” he told me, facing me, holding my chest against the wall as I recovered the wind he’d knocked out of me. “And for Chrissake, keep it down! Want the whole platoon out here finding us with our dicks out?”

His wasn’t, by the way. Soft, it wasn’t big enough to stay out of his fly. Mine was another story entirely. The aggression, if anything, made my dick harder, jutting out between us.  

We both looked down at the same time, and Blake cracked a smile that spelled trouble. And then he reached down and took me, and that time I didn’t stop him. 

A few strokes in he started his word rush again. How he was just helping a bud. How buds help each other when there’s no pussy. How his arm might get tired working a dick as big as mine. And then he used both hands. And I sort of lost myself in it. 

He jacked me that way - face to face, two handed, and he talked less of pussy and more of my dick size and foreskin and just kept going as I let my mind wander. 

“I’m gonna nut soon,” I finally said, close, breathing hard. 

Instead of stepping aside to see how far I could shoot compared to his admirable performance, he stepped in closer and for his dick, hard again, against mine and jacked us together awkwardly. I was too far gone for the panic in me to overtake the explosion in my balls, and I just started pumping out. 

“Yeah, buddy, you needed this, just like I did.” And to my utter horror I felt his cum splattering against me - he’d cum again! Further to my horror, I couldn’t stop my own convulsions. And Blake was still rubbing me and reached in and rubbed my sensitized balls. 

I was back to paralysis - could t talk and couldn’t move. Finally I was soft again, and Blake unhanded me and moved back against the wall next to me. Uncharacteristically, he was silent. 

I got myself tucked away and zipped despite the gooey mess I knew would be in there, and I insanely wiped at my fatigues and t-shirt to wipe away his cum and whatever of mine. That caused him to chuckle and restarted his voice. 

“Don’t work too hard. The camo should hide the worst.”

I had to laugh at that, too. And thus a bating buddies comraderie burgeoned that lasted throughout basic. It escalated. I jacked him, he unexpectedly once much later fell to his knees... and I tried it myself and surprised myself just that once until a long time later, after a bad divorce, when another Chihuahua challenged me. But that’s another story for another day.

Note to readers:

Hey guys this is more a thank you for all the great stories I’ve read here than an attempt to rival your talents. Hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed reminiscing about it with my husband as I wrote it. 

Al