Gay for XXX

Note to all Navy personnel: I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. All people and acts portrayed herein are purely fictitious and never happened as far as I know.

Note to Everyone Else: This is my first attempt at such writing, so any constructive criticism is appreciated. I may write a follow-up based on reader replies, so please feel free to write in.

Vocabulary

ASMO - Essentially, getting kicked out of the Navy.

Head - Bathroom
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Aaron and Tank had worked together for almost eight years. They both were in construction and good friends, but they looked the exact opposites of each other. Aaron was around 5′2” tall and chubby, weighing in at around 225 lbs. Tank was massive, 6′3” and 250 lbs, but unlike Aaron, Tank was all ripped muscle. Unbeknownst to Tank though, Aaron was gay. Tank was a proud musclebear and he worked nightly at the local gay strip bar, ironically called “The Cave”, but Aaron held on to the illusion of being straight, fearing ridicule and isolation from those he admired. Each day coming into work, Tank would stride up wearing close to nothing and he and Aaron would start to work.
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Aaron sat at the bar nursing his glass of scotch, rubbing his forehead softly. He couldn’t believe what had just happened in the previous hour.

Aaron had just walked in on his girlfriend and another guy upon coming home from work early. He walked through the front door of their apartment and saw into their bedroom; he saw her nude back with large male hands on her ass. She didn’t hear him come in or leave, he didn’t care to make a scene. Rather, he just headed straight here and he was now on his third double of scotch.
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Edgewick guided my lovely rival, still-sniffling, to the opposite corner. I listened for extra swats but didn’t hear any, which I suppose was fair since he was freshly caned, whereas the burn in my bottom had had a chance to dissipate somewhat–while I got to watch a highly enjoyable show.

The time in the corner passed slowly, but my cock stubbornly refused to go down. Sad to say, I was unable to put the time to its intended use, to reflect on my bad behavior, as I was too busy reflecting on Khalili’s caning. I kept picturing his firm cheeks rebounding from the impact of the cane, the stripe coloring bright red, the heaving of his smooth olive-skinned shoulders. Even the sniffling and snorting. My mind was reeling. My ass was stinging. I longed to rub it, but I longed to get my hands on my cock more. Getting my hands on Khalili seemed like too much to ask.
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Goddamn, was he handsome.

Such were my sudden–though hardly unprecedented–thoughts as my face was shoved into the wall beside that of my arch-rival, Amir Khalili.

I might have attributed them to the stress of our situation, but I would have been fooling myself. I’d had a hard-on from hell since long before Edgewick pulled us apart. Fighting could do that to me. Even arguments. Anything that got my blood up. Especially with this kid.

I glanced at the Khalili kid out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t exactly surprise myself with my buzz of sexual arousal; I’d had bi fantasies before (or maybe you could call them gay fantasies, since there weren’t any women in them). Had I ever fantasized about Khalili? Probably not, though I realized he was good-looking, and he was kind of my type, I suppose: Tall, slim, dark-featured, snarky little mouth, a clever boy. I guess I’d always disliked him too much to appreciate it. Or maybe the dislike was part of the latent attraction.
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The pickup basketball game at the dorm ran late and I had to get out to the polo field lickety-split or I’d miss the start of practice. So, I stripped off my T and used it to dry off my chest and pits, tossed it in the backseat of the trusty vintage T-Bird convertible, and roared off toward the mountains, toward the practice field at the Moss Grove winery in the foothills of the Smokies. My gym bag with my jodhpurs, practice jersey, and riding boots was in the front seat beside me; I’d have to change when I got out to the winery. That would mean letting the winery owner, Chet, get an eyeful. But as I’d fucked him the previous weekend, we were beyond modesty in that realm.
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I had two weeks of vacation and planned to enjoy my time off with a canoe trip through Minnesota’s Boundary Waters. My girlfriend couldn’t get away from work, so I was on my own. I loaded the truck with my fishing gear, tied the canoe on top and left Portland late Sunday night. By Monday afternoon, I was flying down State Highway 20 in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere, South Dakota, only six hours from my destination when my engine overheated.

Pulling to the shoulder, I cussed my rotten luck as I jacked open the hood. Shit! I had dropped a belt and I didn’t have a spare on me. Out here my cell phone was useless, so I hunkered down and waited for another vehicle to pass. On the desolate strip of black top, it took nearly an hour before an Eighteen-wheeler came barreling down the road.
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We were having our coffees at the neighboring Flora Bar which was a usual place for all the students living on campus to start from on their night adventures. The morning Top Hunk ‘I-own-this-place’, whom I met while waiting for the place to shower that morning, was there and his attitude did not change. Arif said his usual “Hi” and I did the same. The Hunk mumbled his greeting back to us and I questioned him about this guy.

“Yeah! He is into gangbangs and that stuff, you know!”
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After getting through my freshman year at college with a degree of success, I wanted to get out the ‘charming little college town’ which was more than just a couple of hours ride from Chicago and get all the gay action I wanted. Yeah, sure thing, I was having fun at the campus, too. Lots of it. But there was no cruising, no challenge, no scoring, hardly any guys who would be ‘new.’ Hardly any guys who were into real sex rather than just having an occasional quick fun encounter.

I wanted to get back to Europe, too. I missed some of my ‘old school buddies’ and the fun I used to have with them. I wanted and badly needed a change.
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Jeffery snuggled farther down into the warmth of his bed, drifting in and out of sleep. AS his eyes drifted closed again he felt a warm breath on his neck. Kevin laid there simply enjoying the feeling of being able to hold Jeffery. It had been so long, and it felt so good.

Kevin stopped thinking and fought to get himself out of the bed without waking Jeffery. As his feet touched the floor and he watched Jeffery curl up with the pillow he had just been laying on he knew leaving was the best idea. He quietly made his way back to his own room.
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