Date: Sat, 11 May 2002 11:30:10 EDT
From: Bkcycler@aol.com
Subject: THE ARMY: CODE YELLOW/CODE BROWN -Part 4

Even though they could pick up signals from every broadcasting satellite in
the solar system and had a theatre-size screen, nobody bothered much with tv,
probably because they spent their working days on production.  Reg began to
notice that something else was beginning to take guys up on the sultry
tropical evenings.

"Something else" was the best he could do.   Usually his inner antennas were
pretty good when it came to what other people were up to, but not this time.
He did notice that a few guys were starting to be unaccounted for in the
evenings, but it was never exactly the same few guys, and everybody would
always be around in the mornings.  He tried to just let it go and mind his
own business; they were all big boys, and nobody owed him any explanations.

Just the same, what could be left to hide?  His imagination started to
suggest answers, sometimes ones he didn't like.  He thought back to his first
trips into the Village from Long Island, and the amazing variety of gay sex
you could see in the porn if you had the patience and the nerve to track it
down.  It had taken nerve to finally go with a hunch, and his dick, and send
a SASE to the address of a "wet and messy" club in the classifieds, but it
was wonderful to see when they answered that hundreds of handsome guys liked
the scat and watersports scenes he had thought were his private hangup.  But
he had noticed other scenes as well, really strange ones, to him, and tried
to be openminded: piercing, abuse, humiliation, animals, hunter-and-hunted
scenes, torture...most of the guys in those scenes, he was pretty sure, were
okay.  A matter of taste. Did some of the guys on board need to get way
beyond even sudden dirty fuckpiles?

One evening he watched as a few guys, first one, then another, and then
another, stepped quickly and quietly into the shadows behind the vents on the
deck.  Well?  Did he want to know?  How badly?

Fuck it, what was he--the FBI?

Then one evening his feet decided.  Maybe it wouldn't take more than a few
steps before he would see it was nothing and let it go.  He followed Alvin at
a distance, not the smartest choice considering the growing darkness.  But
then maybe that would mean he was used to not being seen and off guard.  Reg
stopped and flattened himself against a bulkhead as Alvin disappeared down a
stairway that Reg knew led to a no-frills rec room the cruise lines had
located far from the first-class lounge.  All he had to do was go down and
take a fucking look.

But his feet refused to move.  NOW what?  No matter how much he wanted them
to move, it was as if he was looking down at somebody else's feet.  Just when
everything is about perfect, some fucking freak disease has to hit?  He
wanted to cry, to punch something or somebody.  His mind raced: medics,
evacuation from the ship, hospitals, braces, disability....no more nonstop
with the hottest and dirtiest fuck-suck machines in the Caribbean or
anywhere...

He has halfway back to his stateroom before he realized he was walking back
to his stateroom.  Walking!  Shit, what a fucking asshole.  What an ASSHOLE!

"All right, sucker," he muttered, embarrassed, scared, and disgusted, "cut
the retard crap and get your fucking ass down into that fucking rec room.
Now!!"  He marched his feet back, picturing the fantasy scene guaranteed to
get himself to face anything: down and dirty sex.  Whatever the guys were
doing down there, it at least had to include hot and dirty fucking and
sucking.  So what if maybe he had to eat some fresh shit?  God knows he had
thought of it more than once, usually just a second before he stopped jacking
and breathing and snapped forward and watched lava spatter in all directions
from his red pisshole.  It had been a couple of hours since his last cum, so
his mouth and dick and shithole were primed.  It had to be waiting a few
steps down.  Scenes of that first orgy, now in a river of shit, got him down
into the rec room.

He felt the presence of the other guys in the darkness, but didn't smell the
usual mix open asshole, cock tang, and orgy sweat,  or hear the gasps and
soft slaps of men concentrating on fucking and sucking and getting fucked and
getting sucked just slow enough not to cum.

This was the big rec room scene?  Just a quiet orgy in the dark?  He chose a
spot and waited for a finger up his butt, a steam of hot piss on his chest, a
mouth at his cock.  Whatever the first move would be his cock was ready, his
balls were loose, his hole twitching and sticky.  A guy approached.  Reg
could feel the guy's heat merge with the heat of his own chest.  His lips
brushed Reg's cheek, then stayed there.  After a few moments Reg began to
notice the guy's breathing.  Quiet and slow.

He waited, hardly taking a breath himself, for the move, the grope that would
break the tension and switch them and whoever was nearby into the raw, driven
frenzy of rutting beasts.   The guy's hand did move, finally, but to the
middle of Reg's back, where he kept it, palm open, pulling Reg slightly
closer to him.  His other hand, instead of fingering for Reg's hole, rested
above his ass at his waist.  Reg waited for the guy's tongue to force into
his mouth or poke into a nostril, but his lips just stayed there touching
Reg's cheek.

Were these guys into some weird suspense trip or what?  Was this supposed to
be some master/slave torture-tease into total blowout fuck?  Reg tensed a
little, bracing for whatever was about to come at him.

Another guy approached.

He stepped into the body warmth as the other had stepped into Reg's, but a
little to the side.  Slowly he moved one arm across Reg's back and rested his
grip on his shoulder, the inner side of his arm crossing the fingertips of
the other guy's hand.  His hand stayed there.

Reg waited.  He sensed that the new guy's other arm held the first guy the
same way.  The guy's closed lips came to rest low and toward the back of
Reg's neck.  He waited, and began to notice the guys' muscles.

After a few moments he felt something in his lungs loosen and breathed out in
a deep shudder, his shoulders dropping a little as he did so.  The two men
braced slightly.  Reg waited, ready to let whatever was in store kick in
whenever it was good and ready to kick in.  He had to admit it actually
wasn't too bad just standing there in the meantime, sensing the warmth and
strength and the brush of fingertips and lips on his skin.

What happened next amazed him more than the first time he shot cum: tears
began to run down his cheeks.  What the fuck?  What the fuck?  His breath
heaved from somewhere deeper than he had ever breathed from.  Tears kept
coming.

The guy who had held his lips low and toward the back of his neck moved them
to his wet cheek and kept them there.  The other guy's lips stayed where they
were.

After what seemed like about five minutes, the guy holding him and the other
guy began to pull away very slowly and, after a light press of his hand on
Reg's shoulder, stepped away.

The other one slowly relaxed his hold, touched his lips to Reg's, and stepped
away.

After about a minute Reg sank quietly to the floor of the rec room and sat,
resting his eyes in the darkness.