Date: Sat, 17 Dec 2016 13:26:08 -0500
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: A Military Christmas

                       A MILITARY CHRISTMAS
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     Damn! It looked like I was going to be the only member of my entire
damned company staying on base for the holiday! You figure a few guys would
hang around for one reason or another, I mean, I know it's Christmas, but
you'd think distance or money or bad family issues would have taken out
someone else besides me! The Army is pretty good about the holidays, a base
like ours, they strip things down to a skeleton crew, and choose those from
people who have families local as much as possible. The U.S. isn't in a
state of active war, at least as far as Fort Winslow is concerned, so the
men were allowed to go home, or at least go off base for a few days, spend
their time with families and friends.
     Of course, I didn't have any of that right now. Family and friends,
that is. My own fault, in a way. You can't stay in the closet firmly for
eighteen years of your life, never sharing the fact you were gay, in a
strictly religious Christian family and hang out with strictly religious
Christian friends, join the military under the same lie and, having spent
several months away from that life and, emboldened by the military lifting
of the "don't ask, don't tell" embargo and some furtive encounters in gay
clubs and a bit of actually having gay sex (that's a major ego boost, you
know, the first time you suck a man's cock and God actually doesn't strike
you dead with a lightning bolt out of the clear blue sky), you come out to
your family, and...God, I forgot what I was saying. Or maybe I don't want
to say it. I received a curt letter from my mother, telling me in one
sentence, eight painful words, "You are no longer part of our family." My
phone calls to Mom and other family members went to machine, or a hangup as
soon as they realized it was me, and never once did I get a call back. Same
thing with friends. Everyone was screening their calls and nobody had the
balls to even talk to me. I guess the preacher had declared they had to
drop me entirely or suffer hellfire. Yeah, it hurt, it hurt like hell, and
now it was Christmas and I had to face life all alone. I was as braced for
it as I could be, but had expected to at least have a fellow sufferer over
the holidays to suffer it with!
     I wasn't totally without resources, I could go to communications and
chat with the guy on the shift, whoever the hell he was. I could find
people from other squads who were alone like me. But I wouldn't know these
guys, or not at all well. It's hell starting all over again and with
Christmas Eve tomorrow night, it looked like I was going to have this
entire barrack hall to myself and....
     The lights started going off. "Hey, hey, I'm in here!" I called out.
     "Sorry!" came the gruff answer, and I recognized the voice.
     "Sergeant Hatteras?" I called out.
     "Muhhhh!"
     I blinked at that. Sgt. Hatteras was never at a loss for words, not to
my memory. Oh, blistering commentary on how a three-year-old girl could
climb that rope faster than I was, barked instructions on how to
field-strip a rifle, or just a pained exclamation to the Heavens about why
God had chosen to burden him with such pitiful excuses for soldiers, but
never such a mumbled acknowledgment. It sounded almost like he was....
     Nah, he couldn't be. Sgt. Hatteras might drink, though I'd never seen
him, but you couldn't bring alcohol on the base.
     Well, he was a fellow soldier, even if he was a total pain in the
ass. I'd check on how many sheets to the wind he was and make sure he was
safe in bed. He could sleep it off and I'd have someone to talk with in the
morning, maybe.
     Sgt. Hatteras had a house just off base with a wife and two little
girls, I knew, but also kept a room in this barracks to use on nights he
needed it, a bed and a work desk. I decided to check there first. It was
down the hall and to the right, one of several rooms, but they'd be labeled
and...
     Sgt. Hatteras was sitting on the floor in the hallway a short distance
beyond my hall's door. And he had a bottle in one hand. Not drinking from
it, just sort of sitting there, waiting to muster up the strength to get
back to his feet and stumble on into bed. Time for me to be a true buddy,
all right!
     "Sgt. Hatteras, sir." I said humbly.
     "Go 'way!" he mumbled.
     "Let me help you get to your room, sir." I said respectfully. I
reached down but he fought my hands away, wriggling so I couldn't get hold
of his arms.
     "Don't wan' go to my room!" he declared. "Sit here."
     "Come on, sir, you can't be caught with that bottle. Let's get you to
your room so you can sleep it off."
     "T'Hell with that!" He announced. "'M on leave 'til New Years Day
af-af-af-after!"
     "I know." I told him. Our entire company had been given leave for that
long. "I think you and I are the only two men still in this barracks."
     "W' are!" he agreed. "Thought I was 'lone, but you-you-you're here."
     "Yes, sir." I said. "Let me help you to your feet, sir."
     I reached down and this time he let me grab him, caught hold of my
biceps with his big hams of hands, and I hauled him upright.
     Shit, he was a big man, even drunk! I had thought it was his rage that
had made him seem so large to me, but even weak from alcohol, he was a
couple inches taller than me and where I was nearly hairless, he was
covered with rank black hair on his arms and neck above his shirt
collar. I'd never seen him shirtless, but his chest must be covered with
hair, too. Older than me by a dozen years or so, I felt like I was helping
my own father home from a bar or something.
     I got us to the non-commissioned officers' section and said as we got
inside, "Which room is yours, sir?"
     "'S down there on the right." he told me. Seemed to think that was
enough. Well, there were names on the doors, and sure enough, the fourth
one down held a small bar that said, "Sgt. Marlon J. Hatteras." Marlon? I
suppressed a snicker at that. But not much of one, my own name was Lancelot
Simmons, so I wasn't going to do anything more than a snicker. You don't
pick your own name, after all, and I wasn't going to dare call him that,
anyhow.
     I got him inside and onto his bed. He blearily placed his bottle on
the side table and I saw a glass was already there. Shit, he'd been
drinking here on base?
     I looked around, it showed me he'd been living here, I mean actively
living here, for several days. But what about his home less than two miles
away from here, with his wife and kids and...?
     Oh, shit! "You left your wife." I said aloud without meaning to.
     "Lef' her, hell!" Sgt. Hatteras exclaimed very, very loudly. "Lef' me,
dammit!"
     "Oh! I'm sorry, sir." I quickly said.
     "Don' be! Friggin' bitch!" He mumbled. "Friggin' fuckin' bitch!"
     "Why don't you sleep it off, Sarge?" I didn't usually call
Sgt. Hatteras anything but Sir, but this seemed an exception. "Things will
look better in the morning."
     "Hell they will." he murmured. "Christmas Eve n'alone on the
base. Wife won' even let muh see muh kids!"
     "She'll get over it, give her some time."
     "Hell, she's leavin' fuh Dallas t'morrow." He mumbled. "Won' need no
home fr'm now on."
     "I'm sorry, sir." I said. Well, what else was there to say?
     He mumbled some more and seemed to go to sleep. I looked at him. Damn,
he looked downright human just now, even wearing his Army fatigues. I
should get him out of those, down to his boxers and t-shirt and cover him
up, then leave him alone. If he wasn't ready to be human to me tomorrow and
was still Sgt. Hardass Hatteras, then I could always hang out with the
communications guy as planned.
     His boots and socks weren't any trouble, and I went next up to his
shirt. But as I unbuttoned it, I found out two things. First, he wasn't
wearing a t-shirt, and second, he wasn't as hairy as I'd thought. I
unbuttoned him entirely and decided I'd work on the pants before I tried
getting it the rest of the way off of him.
     He stirred as I undid his belt and fly and when I began worming his
pants off, he looked down. "Simmons?" he said as his pants slid off his
body. Now he was wearing only his shirt wide open and his boxers. For a
drunk guy sleeping it off, that would do, I decided.
     "Yes, sir." I said.
     "I know why I'm here. Why're you here?" That brief nap had cleared up
his speech at least.
     I made what I hoped was a convincing shrug. "Didn't have the money to
get home." I said.
     "Not what I heard."
     The problem with the Army is you don't get much privacy. Or
secrets. "Yeah." I gave up and admitted.
     "Must be hell, being cut off from your family during the holiday."
     "Yeah." I said. My use of "Sir" had gone by the wayside,
understandable given the conversation.
     "I know something about that. You know what you do about that?"
     "What?" I asked him.
     Sgt. Hatteras reached down into his boxers and into the flap and
pulled out his dong. "You can ask for help from your buddies." he said as
he fondled it, just enough to bring out to full length and laid it on top
of his boxers.
     I looked at that cock and gulped hard. "Sir? Would this be your
helping me or me helping you?" I asked.
     "Which answer will get you to suck my cock for me, Simmons?" he
answered. And he smiled.
     A real, honest-to-God smile, human-to-human, man-to-man smile, and at
that moment, I didn't care what the answer was. "Either one, I guess."
     "Then get to it." he suggested.
     I reached down and took it but he stopped me. "Nu-uh. First, take off
your own clothes. Strip, soldier."
     "Yes, sir." I grinned and quickly stripped off my clothes. You get so
used to Army clothing, you can take them off or put them on in a moment or
so, in no time, I was down to my boxers. Then I said, "Okay, sir, now I'm
ready to suck your cock."
     "So get to it."
     I got on the bed on my knees and bent over him. His cock, hell, his
entire crotch, smelled ambrosial. Not dirty or filthy, just hot and male
and musky. I lifted up his semi-erect prick and touched it to my mouth. It
tasted like all the men I'd ever dreamed about in my life!
     Sgt. Hatteras gave a soft sighing moan as I closed my lips about his
cock. "Ahhh, yeah, that's it, Simmons, suck on it soft at first. Nice and
slow."
     I obeyed and after about three slides up and down the shaft, his dick
had stiffened up into a nice, hard prong.
     "Mmmh, yeah, now faster, private, suck me faster." moaned
Sgt. Hatteras.
     I was glad to comply, his prick was leaking precome that was tasting
the best I'd ever had. Of course, I had little enough to compare it with,
and maybe it was because this was the prong of the man who had mastered and
molded me these past few months, turning me into the soldier I now was. If
I hadn't had this experience, the basic training and then this base, if I
hadn't endured Sgt. Hatteras' scorn until I'd earned his praise, I wouldn't
have survived my family's cutting me off, I would have felt utterly
lost. As it was, the Army was my home.
     So my body began to bob up and down on Sgt. Hatteras' dong quick as I
could go, and I had the sergeant moaning and his cock was heating up when I
felt it.
     His hand on my ass. Just a hand, then the fingers clenched and he was
squeezing one of my buttocks hard. "Bring it up here, Simmons." he told
me. "Bring it up here for me."
     I didn't understand at first, then I did and I groaned and moved
around in bed. Sgt. Hatteras moved to let me swing one knee over his face
and then I was on top of him with my crotch in his face. Sgt. Hatteras dug
into my boxers and pulled out my dong, I felt the warmth of his mouth close
on my cock and I just moaned and started in sucking on him harder.
     Sgt. Hatteras groaned and sucked me harder, and it became a sort of
competition, who could get the other one off faster. I was about to blow my
cookies when Sgt. Hatteras gave a guttural sound and his hips thrust upward
and his spunk blasted into my mouth. I've never tasted anything better than
that come-load, and I began drinking it down as he blew it out. The taste
was intoxicating, invigorating...stimulating. My own climax assailed my
brain as Sgt. Hatteras' load began to diminish as he finished up, my own
orgasm exploded and I ejaculated right down into his rough, foul-tongued
mouth. He drank me as ardently as I had him.
     Done, I kind of sagged down on top of him. My cock was still in his
mouth and his in mine, I sucked on it blissfully, feeling the simple joy of
loving this prick that had just fed me the very essence of life and love.
     "Mph-mur-murgle!" Sgt. Hatteras said and I hastily shuffled off him
and around. Dared to snuggle up to him on the narrow bed. "You feeling
better now, Simmons?" Sgt. Hatteras asked me.
     "Yeah, I'm feeling better." I said, then got suspicious. "I thought
you were stinking drunk."
     He grinned. "Yeah, I can act pretty good, can't I? I play a hard-ass
motherfucker all day every day, it was fun playing a different part for a
while."
     "I'll be a...." I didn't finish that sentence, for lack of a proper
noun. "You set me up."
     "I played you. But you played along." he pointed out.
     "I guess so." I admitted. "So what's next."
     "Next, you and me rest a bit. Then I want a chance to plug your
ass. After that, we'll see about your plugging mine."
     "Sir?" I was surprised by this. I mean, he was a married man!
     "You don't want to fuck me, Simmons?"
     "Uh, yes, sir, but I didn't think you'd want to."
     "You didn't ask why my wife left me." He pointed out.
     "Yes, sir."
     "Now shut up and sleep, soldier. We got a busy weekend ahead of us. My
wife and kids will be cleared out of the house by the end of the year, and
if this turns out good, you can move in with me."
     "Yes, sir." I said and snuggled in a bit more. Staying on the base for
Christmas wasn't turning out to be so bad, after all!
                             THE END
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