G.I. Bill by Robert Craig Men! To tell you the truth the fact of them had never really even occurred to me. I mean they were always there. Let me explain. I am one of five boys in the family. Two older brothers and two younger. We grew up on a farm in Iowa and working summers for Dad was a natural part of our life. The end result of course was five boys who grew into five strapping men. Then there were all the men that worked our farm all year long. Again, they too were always there, working and sweating and drinking and riding and always "grabbing-ass" to let off steam. These men were my "friends." After graduation from high school I decided to travel for awhile and try and figure out what I was going to do. Naturally, when it came time to get a job, I ended up working a farm in Wyoming. There I was once again surrounded by men. In the bunkhouse with all those muscular men, you find that certain things are just taken for granted. Things like modesty and privacy are not even thought about. When you are nose to nose, job to job and bunk to bunk with the same men day after day, you find the "male-bonding" to be totally subconscious and very natural. The bathroom door does not exist, so don't try to close it when you have to take a piss. The Army seemed a natural next step by the time I decided to enlist. Now, let me settle one thing here and now. Being gay had never occurred to me either. My brothers and I often joked about somebody we suspected of being "queer" or teased each other, but that was only natural. And everybody checked out a cock or three in the showers at school to make sure that we were all developing the same. A big dick was talked about, and a small one was usually hidden as best one could-but we all looked. So what! There was even that occasional "morning hard-on" that, try as one might to hide, was noticed by someone in the bunkhouse, who alerted everyone else. Then we would all come running to get a cheap thrill and tease the hell out of the poor horny bastard. We were fairly well endowed, and therefore there was never any obvious jealousy, only a lot of good-natured healthy comparison. We of course never touched each other. Just healthy all-American males. So now here I am in the Army and my life of male-oriented activity continues. Thank the Lord for all my years on the farm and in the bunkhouse. Not only have I developed the muscle and stamina for the service, but I have no modesty. I can take a shower or piss with an entire platoon taking notes and not be phased in the least. How ambivalent we become. How naive I was. For those of you who have never had the "pleasure" of being in the service I offer these few points. Men, and only men, are everywhere. Usually for long periods of time. Young, healthy men, with healthy and very active libidos. Masturbation is a form of survival in the service. In the shower after hours or, for the daring, and quiet, in your bunk, after lights out. Everyone did it and everyone else knew it. With everyone running around in his underwear, it was pretty hard to hide an erection, and you could often hear someone say, "There goes so-and-so, off to whack his meat again." I was a very healthy and very frequent offender. The service is also the first time that I can compare the relative merits and faults of the up-till-now unknown Black, Puerto Rican and at least one Oriental cock. Again, this is just healthy comparison. Having never seen a black dick, but having heard all the stories, one had to see for oneself. I told you I was naive. When I finally saw one for myself I was left quite disappointed because the ones I saw in the showers were no bigger than any other cocks. But on the other hands James, a white dude, had the biggest piece of meat on him that I ever saw. His name was James and he was my bunkmate. By that I mean that he had the top bunk and I had the bottom, not that we slept in one bunk. His was the largest. God knows everybody saw it. I must admit that it was quite impressive. As I stated, I am fairly well hung, but James was massive! Or so it seemed, I swear that his dick hung half-way to his knees and he was always parading around in the nude, half-hard, waving it at anyone who would take note. He was a character. That dude loved his dick, and he could and would beat off more than all of us. He'd be "on" his meat first thing in the morning, in the shower, and again last thing at night, in his bunk. he was good at that slow, quiet jerk-off, but in the bunk beneath him I could always tell that he was yanking that big, fat pole for all it was worth. I also found that if I thought about it-and I did-I could get a hard-on "with him." It was obvious that everyone had seen James's dick at least once, and he was always the object of one comment or another. He knew it and he loved it. It was all good-natured fun. There was even a "rumor" that if you asked him, he would let you jerk him off. Of course the entire world know the Army's "HANDS OFF" policy, so that rumor was never substantiated. At least not by me. After we had completed half of our basic training we were given a restricted leave. This means that you are "off duty," but you still have to stay on the base. It is sort of like a break before finals. Everyone receives a much-needed rest, but you can't go anywhere. It was during our "leave" that James decided to take his exhibitionism to the heights. Just a children circle a campfire and tell ghost stories, James decided that we "MEN" are going to have a circle jerk, and he will tell us the story of his first blow job. Are we ready for this? Well, after many choruses of "Oh! Fuck off asshole!" and, "Faggot, Cocksucker," James started to massage his crotch. In a matter of seconds he looked each of us in the eye, quickly, as if daring us. And you know how "real" men love a challenge. Of course, we accepted the challenge. There was James playing with that huge cock, with all ten of us gathered around him. All of us in our starch-white underwear, massaging our cocks to full erection and staring blatantly at some wild dude pulling on his dick. Surrounded by men again. This time though the male bonding was more of an adult trip. We hung onto every word as James told us about the time his best friend forced a delivery man to give him and the young eighteen-year-old James a blow job. The friend was a tough street punk of nineteen years. The delivery guy turned out to be a "pretty damn good cocksucker!", to hear James tell it. We all went crazy. We were all laughing and jerking off and laughing and always staring at that God-damn humongous cock and laughing. Some were even cumming on the floor and no one seemed to be noticing. I can only guess at what anyone else was thinking about, but I was only thinking about one thing. I wanted to know what it felt like to have your cock sucked. To have my cock sucked. But I was not going to find out during this night, so I came on the barracks floor and laughed with boastful male pride, with all the others. As an added bonus I got to see, for the first time, James shoot his load. His huge erection pulsed and exploded for everyone to see. My attention was riveted. I started to get hard all over again, and do you know, James beat off again after lights out. In true military fashion everything went right back to normal when the leave was over. There was never any mention of the circle jerk. It was as if it had not happened. Part denial, part "no need to concern ourselves." Masturbation went "undercover' again. James went back to being silent about his erections, but I kept thinking about that blow job. I was also suddenly totally aware of James's nightly self-abuse and my own increased use of my own cock. The military was very busy putting us through our basic training. In fact it seemed that after our little "rest" period, there was a renewed vigor on the part of the Army to push us farther, faster and for longer periods of time than ever before. There were going to make us soldiers, or kill us trying. James and I were becoming thick-as-thieves. As if bonding together was our salvation, we became the most inseparable of friends. This of course did not go unnoticed by the rest of the barracks, and on more than one occasion I had caught the end of comments like, "Oh, he's probably sucking James off." The talk was all easy; though, with no real insinuation and never any confrontation. And what did care? I wasn't sucking anybody off anyway. Nor was anyone volunteering to give me that blow job that I was still aching for. What was it like? I couldn't even imagine, when I thought about such things, how that delivery guy got all of James's huge cock into his mouth. Maybe that horse dick was smaller then. Towards the end of training come survival camp. This was sort of an overnight war game. The enlistees were divided up into two teams and sent out into the "wilds" to "kill" each other with colored paint pellets in their guns. Very mature stuff! Naturally it was the hottest time of the entire century, or so it seemed. I think that God and the Army are in cahoots about these things. Anyway, teams were formed and strategies were planned and off we all marched to "kill" each other. To survive was the only thought any of us had because the winning team was to get an extra day's leave. James and I were sent out ahead of our platoon on a sort of scouting mission. We were off in some God-damned wild game refuge in the middle of nowhere. Lost in the woods would be an understatement. Full Army gear was strapped on our backs, and we hadn't a clue as to what we were scouting for, let alone where to find it. Our commander had told us to move out ten miles from the base and set up a scouting position and dig in. So we did. Sweating like a couple of prize hogs, we dug into a small cave near the river. We quickly established contact with our lieutenant and stripped off our gear. "It's too fuckin' hot!" James'd complained. "I'm going for a swim." With this proclamation he stripped off his clothes and was in the river. I too stripped down to my underwear and settled in the cool of the cave near the bank. I watched James swim for a while and started to doze. Even with my eyes closed I saw him. I was also getting a hard-on. I wasn't concerned about my erection as James had seem me hard before. The heat, the excitement of the "hunt," and the presence of James all were combining in me, taking me someplace I had never been before, and I didn't even know it was really happening. James returned from the river almost unexpectedly. I opened my eyes and there he was standing in front of me with his big dick practically in my face. "If that thing gets much harder we could use it for a flag pole," he commented to me, as he glanced down at my rod. "Why don't you suck on it if you want it harder. Or we could just use that fucking pole of yours, asshole," was my wittiest response. If I only knew what I was saying. Dusk was falling and we both kinda nodded out for a while. James had put his underwear back on and was lying next to me in the cave. Like the old bunkhouse days, it never became sexual in my mind. This was just a man, like myself, and that was that. Or was it? We were alone. We were free. We were close and hot and undressed and friends and healthy, and as I suddenly noticed, we were both fucking hard. Again! "Remember that circle jerk we had? Boy did you get into that or what? I bet you were fuckin' harder than all of those other boys." He spit the word "you" at me. Egging me on! Little jabs to get me going. He spoke slowly and calmly with an unusual comfort coming from his voice. "What the hell were you thinking about that night?" What was I thinking about? This was the first time that the circle jerk had ever been mentioned. But this was okay. This was private. Just me and James. The sights came rushing back to me. The danger. The sound of James's voice as he recounted the tale of the delivery man. The huge cock in front of our eyes. The swelling erection in my own hand as I tried to imagine getting a blow job myself. The camaraderie, the laughter, and finally the shared release of all those male emotions and fluid. I had never broken it down into its separate components. Was I going to do it for James? Did I even know what those elements were and what they meant? Did I want to know? Slowly, very slowly, James reached over and touched my chest. It was so casual it was like it had not even happened. His hand rested there and it did not occur to me to move it. No man had ever touched me so ... honestly. I made no move to stop him, nor did I make any moves to encourage him. The moment was there and that was all. There was nothing to protest or acclaim. Our talk was deep. I told him about my brothers and the farm and the work and how I grew up and he shared the same things with me. It was so easy to talk to James that I never thought about it. I also never thought about the fact that this hand was still on my chest. Slowly, casually and seemingly unknowingly massaging me. "Why don't you take off you underwear. Share with me. Tell me your most secret fantasy," he whispered. Suddenly a portion of the mind shut off. We were no longer two men, but just two people. uninhibited, raw people. I stood up and pulled off my white briefs. I was simply swept along in a current of unrealized desire and casual suggestion. My cock swung free and immediately began to grow hard as I thought about my fantasy and blurted out, "I've always wanted ... I've always wanted to know what it feels like to have your cock sucked." We both smiled and I began to massage my cock. Right in James's face practically. He too was playing with his now-huge cock, the head of which was well exposed over the top of his underwear. In an unprecedented and unexpected move, I reached down and pulled his underwear off. He stood, and there we were; eye to eye, face to face. His cock brushed my rock-hard dick and a bolt of electricity went through me. James returned his hand to my chest and again, very gently, began massaging me. His light touch brushed every individual blond hard on my chest as if by design. No man had ever touched me, but now James was, and I was becoming totally aroused and involved in that fact. His hand moved slowly down my chest and down to my washboard stomach. He lingered again. Then he moved down the line of hairs until his hand rested on my hand-my hand which was holding my own cock. As if I had said it a million times, but he wasn't getting it, I calmly said, "No man has ever done this. No man has ever touched me," and then left that sentiment as a kind of explanation that I was unfamiliar with these events. We were staring so intently at one another that words of explanation became unnecessary. We both understood that this was between us and only we need be concerned by it. I moved my hand and James was suddenly holding my cock in his hand. Never imagined a six-foot-four, muscle man would ever touch my cock. Never imagined that the gentle massage that he had begun giving my cock would ever feel so good. My mind took me back to every cock I had ever seen: in the bunkhouses, the boot camp-all those gorgeous dicks! Had I been "looking at dick" all my life? Had I always been subconsciously surrounding myself with other men? "Touch me." "What?" "Touch me. Touch my cock." I returned from my reverie and reached out for James's cock. I had never had any cock other than my own in my hand. I slowly began copying the things James was doing to my cock. Pushing back the foreskin to reveal the huge purple-colored head of James's dick, I was surprised at how another man's cock felt. It could have easily been my own cock in my hand. Did they all feel the same? Was jerking someone else's dick the same as jerking your own? Turn out the lights and see! We stood face to face and jerked each other off with slow, steady strokes designed for pleasure more than for results. We didn't speak to each other as there was no reason. All communication came from our fingertips. I was an explorer and James's cock and balls were all the uncharted areas of the universe. I closed my eyes and allowed all the sensation of James's rough masculine hands to engulf me. I held on to his cock with one hand and with the other I reached under and caressed his balls. Another first. The two globes rolled around in my hand and James began to moan, soft and low. We were in no hurry. The night was warm and we were all alone, exploring. James grabbed my balls with both hands and gave them a squeeze. Now I was moaning. The electricity was flowing. I thought for sure that I was going to cum, but fought it off. Not yet! I wanted this to last and somehow knew that it was this moment and this moment only. There were to be no repeats or second chances. Our dicks were rock-hard, standing at full attention. Even James's full, fleshy pulsing dick, as massive as it was, stood proud and tall. We poked and massaged and played little games with each other's erections and ballsacs, James initiating and me following the lead of "the more experienced." Of was I leading, going with the flow, and James was following me? And did it matter? Not to me. I was enjoying this immensely and didn't care about why or by whom or with what consequences the pleasure was derived. Our breathing began to escalate more and more. Oh God, don't let me cum to early! With my eyes closed and my heartbeat quickening, I began to thrust my hips forward very slowly and rhythmically, pushing my cock into James's hand, pushing myself closer to ejaculation. Fucking James's hand. The cock in my hand was pulsing and I knew that James was nearing his moment too. In one slow careful move, James lowered himself in front of me. On his knees staring into my cock, he continued to jerk me off and caress my balls. He seemed to be sizing me up, taking in every detail from his new perspective. I rested my hand on his shoulder. What next? Could this man give more pleasure than he had given me already? James held my cock in his hand and stretched the skin back as far as it would go. He held my cock with all the force of a man holding on to a lifeline. He grasped my dick almost too tightly, but I was not about to complain. He held my cock straight out from my stomach and looked up at me. He looked me straight in the eye and smiled. Not an evil smile, but a straightforward manly smile. A proud kind of smile, like the coach gives to his prize football player. A "you are my hero and I'm proud of you" man-to-man smile. I tried to duplicate that smile back to him. To communicate that I understood and that I felt the same way. It must have worked. "I want to suck your dick." "Are ... un, are you sure?" "Yes." James "kissed" the head of my dick. I flexed every muscle in my legs to keep myself from shooting my load right in his face. I was going nuts. This man was actually going to blow me and just the thought of it was driving me crazy. He began to lick the head of my cock, encircling the glans with his tongue, licking down the shaft and back up again, pausing at the ridge to tickle me with his quick tongue. Back down the shaft and up the other side, covering my dick with saliva. Back up to the head and then down over it. My dick was in his mouth. Actually in another man's mouth and he was sucking more and more of it in. Very slowly he went up and down on my cock. It felt like he was trying to swallow it. Deeper and deeper until he choked, slightly, and then he would come back up on the shaft, returning for another try. He pulled and stretched my ballsac all the time he was sucking my dick, playing with each ball. The sensation was terrific. The pleasure could not possibly be topped. I was loving this. The pace seemed to quicken slightly. The strokes down my cock intensified and James moved a hand onto my cock, jerking me off into his mouth, his tongue always darting around the head. He was teasing me with his tongue, driving me with more purpose to an ejaculation. His other hand left my balls and began massaging his own cock. His breathing was becoming frantic and mine matched his. I knew I was going to cum. There was going to be no stopping it now. What should I do? Should I "warn" him? Announce that I was going to cum? Was cumming in his mouth part of the event, or was that stepping over the edge? As I was pondering the questions, the answer arrived. My cock swelled and pulsed and James knew the moment was here. He pulled his mouth off of my cock, but continued jerking me off. He also continued wildly jerking himself off. With one deep breath, I shot my load into the air. It felt like I was going to cum forever. We didn't speak. It seemed all we could do was moan and grunt and try to catch our breath. James shot his load and I could feel his warm cum hit my leg and foot. Yet he didn't stop. Another spasm from my cock and a wad of cum hit his face. Pure snow white cum hit my foot and more cum hit his chest. Would we never stop? Every muscle in my body was flexed. I felt like I could do anything. And then it was over. With one final jolt, my legs turned into jelly. I felt light-headed and thought that if I didn't sit down that I was going to faint. Every drop of my blood was in my dick and my brain was in need. James released my cock and leaned back against the wall of the cave. I sat down and leaned against the opposite wall. We did not speak. James closed his eyes and continued playing with his now semi-erect dick. Slow strokes up and down his dick, savoring the event. Basking in the after-glow. I too was basking. The blood drained from my cock and then returned to help my brain begin functioning again. I watched a small stream of cum run down James's chest, and smiled. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. We were awakened hours later by our radio screeching at us. Oh yes, we weren't alone in the world. Our commander was trying to reach us. The game was over. Return to base immediately. Reality set in. I was delightfully aware of the dried cum and sweat covering my body. "Fuck man. Back to work. We better clean up and haul our asses back to the base." We both cleaned up in the river, got dressed and packed up our gear. We spoke only of the games and wondered which side had "won" and wished for our own bunks and a hot shower. The "event" was over. My mind was working it over and over again in my head, but my mouth was not going to put words to it. Two men have sex and then walk away from it. It is a sexual event, not a loving one. Two men making love is "queer," but we were not queers. I kept thinking about James's mouth on my cock and I knew I would remember every detail of it for a long time. We marched back to the base and resumed our military training. The last weeks were boring and seemingly endless. The uncertainty of where our military "careers" were going to take us hung heavily over us, but new assignments, new faces and new buddies loomed ahead. On the flight home to see my folks and my brothers, I reached into my duffel bag and found a note. It was from James. It read: I guess you'll need to find a new fantasy now. All good things to you, Billy. Your buddy, James.