Private Chet Watson stood at attention before Sergeant McGinty's desk. Having been summoned from the gym and wearing only sweat-drenched shorts and a tanktop, he felt vulnerable and exposed standing before his superior officer like this.
He pretended not to notice his sergeant slowly thumbing through a glossy porn magazine, the cover featuring a strapping, muscular man stuffing his thick, engorged penis into a smaller, younger man's mouth. He knew where the magazine had been found: under his own bunk mattress. Imagining what this was leading to, he felt anger and fear flushing his face.
He couldn't help but notice when his commanding officer turned the magazine slowly on its side and tipped his head, as if dumbfounded by a particular picture, the quintessential straight man perplexed by gay sex. Chet tried to push away thoughts about what he might have discovered. Perhaps it was his favorite photo, the one with the older man riding the younger man's surprisingly large cock, his face clamped in an ecstatic grimace. How many loads had Chet given up over that one picture alone as he fantasized it was Sergeant McGinty squatting over his own erect cock?
"What is this, private?"
"Sir, it appears to be a magazine, sir."
"What kind of magazine, private?"
"Sir, I believe pornography, sir."
"Don't you know that porn is prohibited in the barracks?"
"Sir, yes sir."
The sergeant rose lazily from his chair and sauntered over to stand beside Chet as if they were the best of buddies discussing a sports magazine. He casually rested his forearm on the smaller man's shoulder while holding open the magazine before the two of them. He flipped back a few pages to reveal a two-page spread featuring the smaller man driving his tongue deep into his muscular lover's asshole.
"What is this, private?"
"Sir, that is a picture, sir."
The sergeant leaned more into his subordinate while speaking even louder. "What is happening in the picture, private? What is the man doing to his friend's rectum?" Chet could feel his commander's warm, mint-scented breath on his neck now.
"Sir, I believe that is called rimming, sir."
"I see. Is this a fag magazine, private?"
"Sir, it appears to be, sir."
"And aren't fags prohibited from serving in our military?"
"Sir, I believe the policy is 'don't ask, don't tell,' sir." Chet felt a fury rising in him now. Sure, being caught with porn meant a reprimand, perhaps restriction to base for a few weeks, but he couldn't be discharged because of its content. They couldn't ask, and as long as he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't tell.
"Are you telling me I shouldn't ask if you prefer sucking cocks as opposed to pounding warm, sweet, lovely, all-American girl pussy?" The older man growled this question an inch from his ear. He could feel his warm spittle dewing on his skin.
Chet couldn't see his face, but he imagined the older man's paper-white skin was flushed in anger. He couldn't help but feel slightly aroused by that. The sergeant had pale, freckled skin and hair somewhere between red and brown, the sort of man Chet always favored most.
"Sir, that is correct, sir."
The sergeant said nothing more for a few moments as he thumbed silently through the magazine pages. He stopped on another two-page photograph, this time featuring the older man shooting a massive load of thick cum into the younger man's open, eager mouth. The sergeant let out a mock whistle as if deeply impressed by the commodious spunk output.
"The two fags in the magazine look something like you and me, don't they private?"
Chet was dumbfounded about how to answer. Of course they did. That's why he had bought the magazine. That's why he had expended so many loads fantasizing about the sergeant sneaking into his bunk and rutting him with abandon.
"Did you not hear my question, private?"
"Sir, now that you mention it sir, there might be a slight resemblance, sir."
"Well, that's what I thought when I got my copy two weeks ago. But I thought it was more than just a slight resemblance."
It took a few seconds for that to register. He said what? He had his own copy?
"I mean, the first thing that popped into my head when I flipped through it, looking for some good jack-off material, was 'sweet Jesus, that hot tatted boy looks just like my cute little Private Watson, right down to the fantastic bubble butt."
Chet felt paralyzed now. This had to be some sort of trick.
"So what do you think of that, private?"
"Sir, a. . .an interesting analysis, sir."
The sergeant chuckled softly, then lapsed into silence. The room grew so quiet he could hear the sweep second hand on the older man's watch, his beefy arm still resting on his shoulder.
"I bet you think I'm messing with you, don't you private? You think I'm trying to trick you into admitting you're a fag, don't you?"
"Sir, I imagined that, sir."
"Well, I don't think you're a fag, private. I know you are a fag. I knew you were a fag the moment I saw you, the first day of basic. After all, it takes a fag to know a fag, doesn't it, private?"
Chet had no idea how to reply.
"I asked you a question, private."
"Sir, I have heard that said, sir." Still, this could be a trick. He had no sense the sergeant was gay. Every third word out of the man's mouth was "pussy" or "cunt" or "tits" or "whore."
The sergeant flipped a few more pages to the last spread of the magazine. It featured a shot of the two men blissfully cuddling together in sleep, their muscular bodies coated in sweat and streaks of cum.
"This guy was in my favorite porn flick," the sergeant said conversationally, tapping the older man's face with his finger. "Called 'The Golden Tongue.' Did you see it?"
Again Chet was stymied. He had, of course, seen the movie, in secret, on his laptop while locked in a storeroom behind the barracks. But this comment suggested the sergeant really was gay. How else would he know about 'The Golden Tongue'?"
"Private, I asked you a question."
"Sir, I think I may possibly have seen it, sir."
"Damn boy, looking at this magazine is making me hard again. Are you getting hard, too, private?"
Chet was at a complete loss now how to respond. Again, seconds passed in silence. Suddenly, he felt the sergeant's large, warm hand snake inside his shorts and down into the damp mesh pouch holding his cock and balls. He inhaled sharply as he felt the sergeant gently caressing his meat.
"Shit, you are getting hard, too, boy."
The sergeant's other hand took hold of Chet's and placed it on the older man's crotch. The distinct outline and stiffness of his commanding officer's sizable penis below his uniform pants was unmistakable. He was getting hard. Good God, he really is gay, Chet realized.
"Is it as big as you fantasized, private?"
Chet was unable to answer as he felt his sergeant gently stroking and massaging his meat inside his shorts. He was fully engorged now, so rigid he could feel his cock throbbing with pulsing blood.
"Because I'll tell you, you're bigger than I thought, for such a short little guy. Of course, I'm not complaining one bit, because I'm something of a size queen myself."
The stood in silence for a few moments as the sergeant languidly jerked him off inside his shorts. He tried not to gasp when the older man repeatedly rubbed a glob of precum over his super-sensitive glans with his strong thumb. Only a gay man would know how to do that. Only a gay man would know the agonizing ecstasy that caused. After a few moments, he felt the older man's cheek rub against his neck, the bristle tickling his skin as he gently kissed his chin and ran his tongue up to his earlobe.
Chet wondered if the older man was going to jerk him until he came. Where was this leading? His fantasy had become a reality, but he wasn't certain what that meant, never having imagined what would actually happen if the imagined truly intersected with the real world. Still, five minutes before, he thought he was in hell. Now he was in heaven.
"Oh, by the way, private, I forgot to tell you," the sergeant whispered into his ear, the rough tone of a superior officer now replaced with the soft voice of a seductive lover. "The president signed a repeal of 'don't ask, don't tell' this morning. I've been waiting for weeks so I could call you in here to celebrate in private."
Text copyright 2010 by William Leveque. All rights reserved.