Advanced Training
After basic, I went home on furlough, and then was sent down south for some advanced training. My new base was an improvement over the strict, confining days of Basic. There was more free time and fewer rules. After daily classes I was free to read, take a walk around the post, go the PX, buy a (watered down) beer or a cheeseburger, even go to a movie on the weekend. The guys selected for advanced training were, in general, easier for me to relate to. There were more middle class and college educated guys here than I had run into thus far in the Army. I made several friends.
I thoroughly enjoyed the nudity prevalent in the barracks. I remember one great looking guy who made it a practice to parade bareass around the barracks all the time. He had a nice cock and a world class ass. He was very macho in his manner, and would say things like: "No wo-man's got herr, lock ma waff's herr." [Translation: "No woman's got hair like my wife's hair."] One day while swaggering around the barracks totally nude, he caught a young kid from Nebraska looking at his prime southern butt.
"Wha chu lukkin at fukk-er?"
"Nothin', nothin'," the kid said, reddening.
"Ah sow ya lukkin at ma aa-ss. Wal jes fuggetit. We cain't hev no buttfuckin in this heah army, boy."
I continued to enjoy looking around, especially in the showers, but I was always careful not to reveal the degree of my interest. Not everyone was discreet. A few bunks away from me, was a guy named Brooks who I came to realize was gay. Brooks had the top bunk, and his buddy named Ballantine was in the bottom bunk. Ballantine was a yokel from rural Texas, who referred to a sport shirt with color coordinated slacks as "a suit." Ballantine was forever carrying on about how he missed his pussy. To hear him tell it, he had a copious and constant supply of pussy at home and he was dearly hurting. I (and others) began to notice Brooks spending an awful lot of time lying in the bottom bunk with Ballantine. At first it was assumed that they were helping each other with studying, but on my way to the latrine one evening I noticed Brooks lying next to Ballantine and he had his hand down Ballantine's shorts! Neither man moved as I walked by. Soon afterward I began to hear some whispers about these two.
Any remaining doubt was removed from my mind on the occasion of our first weekend pass. About a dozen of the guys in the same training unit, all went to town and took a few hotel rooms, which we shared. I ended up sharing a room and double bed with a nice kid named Barry. We had become friends in the barracks. Barry had joined up right after high school, and was an easy going, eager-to-please young guy from the midwest. He liked to read letters from his girlfriend out loud to me. He got a kick that whenever he wrote a romantic, hot letter to her, she would respond in kind. And when he sent a cool, newsy letter, she also would cool it in her response. It never occurred to me that Barry had any gay feelings at all.
As we checked in, I was standing near Ballantine and asked him if he wanted to share a room.
"Nah, I think I'll, uh, hook up with Brooks, this time," Ballantine said. Brooks, standing nearby, beamed silently.
Barry jumped in and offered to share with me. We hadn't been in the room more than 15 minutes when one of the bellmen was knocking on the door, asking if we wanted some girls. We laughed and said no.
"Oh, it's that kind of place! I've never stayed at a whorehouse before," said Barry.
Although not exactly a whorehouse, the hotel was a fleabag place that had very liberal visiting rules. Soon after settling in, Barry, me and some of the other guys headed out to look over the town.
Within a few hours we figured that we had seen all of Augusta that there was to see, and settled into getting drunk at a local bar. I was amazed to learn years later from a cyber-buddy on the net that he had some gay action while stationed in Augusta. Well, in those days, dick could have been under my nose and I probably would have been too naïve, scared, and innocent to pick up on it. It was St. Pat's weekend and the beer was green and free flowing. We staggered back to the hotel after closing time, and flopped onto our beds. I passed out soon after, andwoke up the next morning with my legs wrapped around my buddy from Missouri. We were face to face, and pressed hard dick to hard dick with legs intertwined. We stayed that way quite a while, as I remember, both obviously awake and enjoying the human contact.
Eventually, we unwrapped ourselves, laughed, and said guess it was time to go home to see our girlfriends. So, like my cyber buddy John, I suppose I could have had some cock in Augusta too, if I hadn't been so stupidly chickenshit.
But I'll bet anything that Brooks and Ballantine next door managed to get to know each other a lot better, green beer or not. Although I would have like to be a fly on the wall of their room, I guess that I would have fallen off drunk anyway.