'Come on,' First Sergeant Ike Samuelson urged with a deep, breathless growl. 'You can do this, Private. I know you can..'

The nineteen-year-old looked up, his gray-blue eyes locking with the deeper cobalts of his superior officer. The hard expression on Ike's square jaw had softened only slightly, just enough to convince Private Thomas John Bullen to cross that one final line. After this, there would be no turning back.

'Show me you got what it takes to be the best of the best. Prove you got the balls to be a Ranger!'

The smell of Ike's skin, to Bull's surprise, was strangely reassuring, not at all as repulsive as he'd thought during all those years when he'd joked and narked on other guys, accusing them of being prick-lovers. The rubbery-hardness of Ike's boner in his trigger hand felt odd, but enjoyable. Bull knew well enough what it was like to play with his own cock, all eight fat, hairy inches. But this - the idea of stroking another man's root - most of him wanted to run from the supply shed, into the brewing blizzard outside in the hopes the cold night air might shock some sense into him. Another needed to follow through on his promise to Ike, and it was to this voice that he listened.

Bull studied the First Sergeant's uncut cock and the warm, cum-packed heaviness of the nuts hanging loosely beneath its thickness. 'Fuck,' he sighed, moaning out a hot breath to tease the loose, moist skin of Ike Samuelson's ample foreskin. Reaching his free hand up to ogle the man's sac, Bull gently rolled the fat balls. He'd smelled the sweat off his own stones enough times to recognize the musky odor of the First Sergeant's, but to his own surprise, he appreciated it.

'That's it, son,' Ike growled. 'Show them some respect, you handsome fucker..'

Ike cupped Bull's unshaven chin and pulled him closer. The hairy skin of the First Sergeant's nuts rubbed against his right cheek, then past his nose. Bull got a deep whiff off the other man's balls before taking them, willingly, over his lips. He continued to stroke the thick handle of Ike's shaft, forcing what had to be an easy-two inches of veiny foreskin up and down to tease the trigger of nerves under the First Sergeant's arrow-shaped cockhead. Straddling his legs over Bull's shoulders, Ike moaned and spread his big soldier feet, already bared of their boots but still clad in sweaty-smelling OTC socks. With his face now trapped between Ike's strong legs, Bull brushed his tongue from one side of his CO's sac over to the other, tasting the heady perspiration of a hard day's work.

At first, the idea of licking another man's balls disgusted him; each time Bull got a mouthful of man-sweat, the knot in his stomach pulled tighter. But to his shock, the longer he worked Samuelson's balls, the more he liked it. It was enough to coax him higher toward the intended target, up to the slippery uncut head of the boner in his grasp.

'I want it, Sarge,' Bull huffed, sending another hot breath over Ike's spit-shined nut sac.

'I know you do, son,' Ike growled. 'Remember what I told you, about those soldiers in Ancient Greece - how the young ones drank the sperm of the seasoned warriors, believing they'd gain strength from it. That's it. Take it in your mouth. Get some strength from that dick, Private. Show my fuckin' cock some respect-!'

Licking his way up from the mossy-smelling, hairy root to the slick, crimped edges of foreskin dripping over it's fat mushroom head, Bull got his first taste of Ike's manhood. Closing his eyes, he lapped at it once more, this time dipping his tongue into the moist piss-hole capping its fat seven inches. Unlike the cunts he swore he couldn't do without, the prick now teasing Bull's taste buds had a clean, addictive quality he'd never guessed possible.

Chicks were meant to suck dicks, an acid voice in his head accused. Not men. Not men like me! But, fuck...this is too good to pass up...

Bull slurped harder, faster, aware that the salty juice oozing out of the hood of the First Sergeant's uncut cockhead was growing muskier the longer he worked it between his lips. Somewhere at the back of his mind, the voice accusing him of being a prick-lover went silent and was replaced by memories of everything that had happened on the Army base during the last month in North Carolina - all the things Ike had taught him about the new life he'd have if he left the old behind.

R - Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession. I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor, and high 'esprit de corps' of my Ranger regiment...

First Sergeant Samuelson pulled back suddenly on his cock, savagely yanking it out of Bull's mouth and slugging it hard against the young Private's cheek. The action left a trickle of precome and spit glistening on the young Private's face. Ike leaned down, licked Bull's cheek clean, and then pressed their lips together. Tongues soon followed, mixing the sour-sweet taste of the CO's precome between them. At one point, Ike broke their lip-lock and rose to his feet.

'Stand up,' he commanded. Shocked at first, Bull complied.

A - Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea, or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger, my country expects me to move further, faster, and fight harder than any other soldier...

With the sound of the January wind howling around the cinderblock walls, the two men kissed again. Bull smashed his lips into Ike's. The First Sergeant wrapped an arm around Bull's waist and ran the rough fingers of his other hand through the buzzcut topography of the young Private's neck and head. In a bold action he hadn't dared since that first time Ike had sucked his cock four weeks earlier, Bull felt up his Commanding Officer's chest, shoulders, back. Soon, both men were locked tightly together - mouths, chests, cocks.

N - Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong, and morally straight, and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be. One hundred percent and then some...

A gust of cool air swept over Bull's bared ass as his camouflage pants were yanked down, taking his skivvies with them. The First Sergeant grabbed hold of the hard concrete of his young Private's left ass-cheek. His other hand groped both their dicks. Bull felt the moist, spit-shined foreskin rub against his rock-hard knob. 'I'm gonna teach you something, Private,' Ike huffed, his voice heavy with the odor of maleness. 'Something about respect for your fellow soldier, your brothers in uniform. Respect for the cocks we both share.'

G - Gallantry will I show the world that I'm a specially selected and well-trained soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress, and care of equipment shall set the example for others to follow...

First Sergeant Samuelson's chokehold on the young Private's cock tightened. Bull glanced down, moaned, and steadied himself on the other man's shoulder. 'What are you doing, Sir?'

'A little something only two men can do for themselves. Pussy's fine most of the time, son,' Ike drawled, lining the heads of their cocks up until one pee-hole was pressed against the other's piss-slit.

Something warm and wet slid over the taught skin of Bull's fat eight incher. He looked down again, mystified, in time to see Ike's foreskin engulf not only the head of his straining pole, but a good half inch of the shaft to boot. The pressure from Ike's foreskin, which glistened with his own spit, was overwhelming. Bull felt the spongy, arrow-shaped spout mash up against his own. Both men grunted out a string of swears as their nuts, free to dangle in their heavy, loose ball bags, swung together.

E - Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle, for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy, and under no circumstances will I embarrass my country...

Ike flashed a mean, swarthy grin and began to pump their joined cocks at a faster clip.

A lot had happened in the last four weeks - the sexual chain of command he'd established with Private Alex Reeves, and the respect he'd given and earned back himself from their First Sergeant. There'd been plenty of sex. He'd jacked himself off, and had gotten his cock sucked in the barracks, the showers, even in Samuelson's office. But nothing, in all the loads he'd shot, had compared with what he now felt. Reaching down, he took his cock by the hilt and stroked it against the First Sergeant's, fucking the other man's foreskin. The underside of Bull's pole erupted in itchy-hot pinpricks each time Ike's cockhead pushed into him. It was as if, in that instant, that both men had been joined by one huge, pulsating shaft that sent energy and strength coursing between them.

R - Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission, though I be the lone survivor...

It hit him all at once. Bull raised up on his feet, curled his toes in his combat boots, and jabbed his cock into the slick, wet head of the First Sergeant's skin-sock one last time. Just as he felt the blast of something wet across his shaft, Bull pumped off his first shot of come. The room filled with their grunts.

'That's it, soldier,' Ike howled through clenched teeth. 'Show me what you're capable of!'

'Sir, yes, Sir-!'

One, two, three times more, Bull unloaded a total of five shots up into Ike's well-stretched foreskin. He had no idea how many times the First Sergeant sprayed, but soon the deluge of hot juice was running down their tightened balls and dripping onto the supply room's floor. The sound of their groans, mixing together like the spunk they'd ejaculated, droned away, swallowed whole by the sound of the January blizzard taking shape outside.

This is the Ranger's Creed. Rangers lead the way! HOOAH!

From the top of his cap, down the neat front of his perfectly fitting Battle Dress Uniform to the toes of his polished combat boots, the handsome soldier exemplified what the Army expected of its men. This man, his gray-blue hawk's eyes narrowed, his hard, square jaw shaved and steady, stood at attention and saluted, the toughest of the best.

'Officer Thomas John Bullen,' Major Ike Samuelson said. 'Congratulations on your promotion to Sergeant!'

January 1, 2000:

Bull woke with a start, at first not sure of where he was or what had happened. The out-of-body image of himself standing at attention lingered in the broken mosaics of white light a moment longer before vanishing back with the dream of Ike Samuelson that had preceded it. Soon, the familiar contours of the bedroom in his house returned. The only traces of the dream were the sweat-soaked covers beneath and the huge erection he'd been fucking into the mattress.

'Fuck,' he huffed in a sleepy voice, rolling over onto his back. The action wound a perspiration-soaked noose around his cock. Bull whipped the covers aside and used them to swipe the beads of sweat off his forehead. His cock thus released, he reached first for the remote to mute the TV he'd fallen asleep to, then grabbed hold of his straining erection.

For a moment following the dream, he swore he tasted something other than the bottle of cheap champagne he'd downed that night on base at the officer's club with a few of his buddies. It was all as he remembered it, the taste of his old First Sergeant's foreskin after he'd sunk to his knees following their mutual eruption into it that cold, long ago night in the supply shed. A surly grin twisted the corners of Bull's mouth, causing the stubble of morning growth to prick at his lips.

'Ike,' he moaned. Passing a hand through his sweaty buzzcut, Bull stretched out on the bed, kicking his Size Twelves and solid, hairy legs free of the bedclothes. He absently scratched at his fat sac of come-packed nuts with one hand and hawked up a wad of spit into the palm of the other. Before he knew it, Bull was stroking his stiff cock closer to the explosion he'd been fucking it toward into the mattress moments earlier.

Masturbating helped him forget about the fact he'd woken up alone in the bedroom of his house near the base, and that he'd spent First Night, watching the arrival of the Millenium, with the same partner he'd married twenty years earlier, body, heart, and soul.

The Army.

Half-shutting his eyes, Bull tipped his head away from the snow of the cable signal out to the window for a view of the snow that had knocked it out sometime during the night. The entire backyard was blanketed in white. Bull closed his eyes fully. Images of Ike Samuelson and the forbidden bond they'd forged so long ago coaxed him closer toward dumping his first load of the new year.

That old life was a long time ago, Bull, he thought, squeezing down on the center of his shaft while tugging at his balls. A very long a time ago.

But six hours later, after the morning mail arrived to Sergeant Thomas J. Bullen's office on base, he realized how much the events of that old life could still affect the new.

The letter had been posted three days earlier in a plain white envelope, and had come from his old hometown, Seaside, Massachusetts. Just the sight of the name on the envelope was enough to cause his hands to tremble almost uncontrollably, the steady hands of a soldier who'd gone in with the first wave to Grenada, Iraq, and Bosnia.

Dear Bull, the letter read in Becky Kendall's unmistakable handwriting. For a long time, I've wrestled with the decision of not telling you the truth about what happened after you left Seaside following the summer of '79...

Bull read on, seeing the words, but not comprehending their meaning until he reread them a second and third time.

A month before you enlisted, I found out I was pregnant. I hope you can forgive me. I didn't tell anybody, Bull. I couldn't. Not then. I went out to San Diego - you remember my cousin, Mattie? I stayed with her for a while until I got my head together. But yes, Bull, I had a baby. A son. Your son, Bull. His name is Jason...



the Hitman

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