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ASSMUNCH
Why was I going into that memory again? I thought I'd put it in a plain unmarked box, taped tightly shut, as far back in my head as I could get it. I didn't want to think about Kevin, about the tears, about losing him, about the choices I'd made that left both of us broken.
Walking down the hall to where Sleeper waited found me reliving it all and how I carefully disappeared him so we could both get on with our lives. Joining the Army I had rid myself of Tom, my given name, and started using Andrew, my middle name in every effort to forget the piece of my soul I'd given to Kevin. I couldn't be Tom in the Army. The Army would eat Tom alive, chew him up and spit him out. I had to be Andrew, tough, closed off and fully committed to a career in the military, with no thought or awareness of the sweet, open, high school athlete that was Tom. Andrew never gave control to anyone. Andrew never lost himself. And Kevin needed to and deserved to have a guy share his life who could be fully open to him, be everything Kevin deserved because he was that magnificent and life-changing. He was half a world away at MIT, hopefully excelling in the Engineering program that would ensure a comfortable life. The distance between Boston and Germany was enough to allow us both to move on. I hoped. I hadn't answered any of the letters he'd sent, even refused to read the last few. Like my memories, I'd put them in a box and buried it at the bottom of my personal shit. My leash had to be tight.
Fuck! Go away, Kev. Please go away. I crushed the feeling swelling up inside me, before it broke me again. Shaking my head I dispelled the ghost of Kevin and focused on the way ahead.
So the latrines had a supply room at the end of the sinks and toilets. It wasn't big, just 5' by 5', with a utility sink. It had a lock, but of course basic locks meant nothing to trained soldiers in our MOS. Silent entry was a section of our breach training. We were learning everything from blowing a hole in shit to mechanical manipulation. It all boiled down to one rule our Ranger instructor said - there's ALWAYS a way in. Not that we were anywhere near ready to be loosed upon the battlefield. I liked that instructor. Lt. FUHA (Flagpole Up His Ass) said we were lucky to get a Ranger to instruct us, that the timing worked out that his team happened to be back in Germany for debrief. Lt. FUHA threatened us for a full five minutes NOT to embarrass him or ourselves during instruction. He actually picked out specific brothers who weren't allowed to speak or interact with our guest instructor to minimize the potential for us to look stupid. Demon was one of those. Surprisingly, so was Bootlicker. Don't ask me why.
Anyway, Capt. Simmons was the most relaxed officer I'd met to date. He had no use for rank address off mission, he said. Of course, if Sarge or Lt. FUHA were present we didn't dare get lazy with our conduct or address. But when they left the room, Brian called us boys', brother', called us by our nicknames, told us we could call him Sir, Brian, Simmons, Captain, or Gutter, his callsign nickname. I'm almost certain Gutter referred to his apparent ability to eviscerate the enemy, not a channel for sewage and runoff. The dude was death on feet the way he moved. He had Zeus' head squeezed between his thighs in two seconds. Zeus, who towered over him and outweighed him by 60 pounds. Zeus got stabbed in every kill spot, got his throat slit, finishing with the imaginary knife slamming up between his asscheeks right in the asshole to get jerked upwards slicing him from balls to ribs. Six seconds, start to finish. Gutter was sitting on Zeus's face, his knees pinning Zeus's arms, his armpits holding Zeus's legs. After his kill, he played a drumroll on Zeus's meaty ass while he said `never hold back. Kill fast, completely. Your enemy doesn't deserve to suffer. And that's not about kindness. It's about removing the emotion from it and efficiency. If you want him to suffer, it means you care too much. You should not have feelings about your enemy. He is an obstacle between you and your mission." He had his hands on Zeus's hamstrings while he explained, looking like he was holding Zeus down for a gangbang. Zeus seemed perfectly relaxed with his ass spread wide, a large mound where his junk sat, and his face buried in Gutter's hole. "Since Zeus here is being so cooperative now that I've killed him," he lifted up off Zeus's face and looked at him over his shoulder. "You good, brother?" Gutter asked.
"I'm good."
Sitting back down he ass smashed Zeus's face, I could tell Gutter was resting his full weight there. "This area here," Gutter demonstrated, shoving his hand in the crack of Zeus's ass, then slid it up over the bulging uniform of Zeus's junk, "a guy will forget everything to protect it. Also, armpits and neck. It's instinctive." I noticed he was massaging Zeus's crotch imperceptibly. "Make a move for these areas and your enemy loses form, gets out of position, leaving you an opening for the kill."
He finally let Zeus go, stood up and stretched out a hand to help Zeus up. "But I'm not here to teach you hand to hand, as pleasant as it was having Zeus hot-breathing my ass. Thank you, brother."
Zeus shrugged, not the least embarrassed. "My pleasure, Captain." Like he was dealing cards or taking a hamburger off the grill rather than getting his face smothered by Ranger ass. Fucking deep, rumbling voice. And the inflection he used, as if it was all HIS idea to get slaughtered, teabagged, groped and laid out spread like a whore at a bachelor party. As if it was Gutter that got used. Zeus's natural dominance made it difficult to figure out who got the best of who. I mean, lethal killer or indomitable God? Zeus gave off the distinct impression that Gutter only got to commit exactly the acts that Zeus graciously permitted. But Gutter was signaling that Zeus was no trouble at all to handle any way he chose. That the grope of his junk, digging into his asshole through his uniform, grinding his ass on God's face was a deliberate act of dismissal. As if saying `yeah, you're a God, but you still answer to me.' When Titans meet, we mortals are unworthy to judge.
Anyway, Gutter was the reason Sleeper and I wanted to try for Ranger School eventually. He was just a badass, and down to earth, easy going, confident , like a real big brother. He didn't treat us like grunts, like we were stupid , clumsy or lacking skill. Even though we knew the wide gap between him and us, we felt like equals, like he accepted us.
Sorry about the tangent. I'm supposed to be tonguing Sleeper's tight white ass, not dancing down memory lane. Stay on mission, soldier. Acquire your target.
The target sat naked on the utility sink. Fuck, my dude was awe inspiring. He wasn't trying to be sexy, I know, leaning back against the wall behind the sink, his ass perched on the front edge so his asscheeks were half exposed, legs spread casually hanging down, just two inches of his crack visible below his long loose nuts that covered his entire taint. His skin was so white, except for the farmer's tan from his biceps to his fingers, and his neck and face. Dark hair, dark eyes. His meaty muscles bulging. One hand played with his semi hard cock, the other feeling up his right tit.
As if the sight of me was the signal he waited for, his legs came up, spread, and folded back along his torso, exposing his perfect, tiny turd button. His hand moved down off his dick, to rub his middle finger over his smooth, hairless hole.
"Get that magic tongue in here, bro. I gotta cum, bad."
I wasted no time. Placing my hands on both cheeks, I squeezed and massaged them. I pulled them further apart, stretching his gap, rotated them in circles, pushed them together. I'd learned that eating ass was more than tonguing hole. It was best as a whole experience, no pun intended. I'd learned that a dude's dick actually started at his taint, which hid some of the muscles that controlled his dick, AND his ass. That when a guy was on his back, that 12 o'clock on the pucker was the area that felt best, caused the most moaning and squirming. And I hadn't learned it from eating Sleeper's ass, it had been Kevin devouring my hole before plowing me mercilessly that taught me everything I knew. Kevin always took his time. Kevin never did it for me, to make me cum, to prepare me to get ass raped. He ALWAYS did it for his own enjoyment, and I learned that was the key. Fuck! Go AWAY Kevin! Back in your box.
Of course I started at the top, but not with my tongue. I bit him with my lower teeth on his hole, my top teeth scraping his perineum. I let my chin scrape across him. Sleeper spread himself further unconsciously.
"Fuck yes." He moaned.
I kissed his beautiful little starfish tenderly. Then licked his six, making sure my tongue didn't touch his hole, staying below it by an inch. Another sensitive spot, just above his tailbone about two inches away from his sphincter. If you pressed on that spot, a dude's asshole reflexively relaxed. Teasing Sleeper's asshole open was too much fun. I gripped the mounded tube of his taint muscle and massaged and stroked it from the sides as I enjoyed the flavor of his lower ass channel, still avoiding the thing he wanted me to lick the most.
"Oh God, Andrew." He grunted, writhing his hips trying to move his hole to my mouth. I popped him hard on his ass.
"No moving." I warned him. He knew the rules, but still tested me every time. It amused me that he couldn't grasp that I could make his body beg me to violate him, even if his mouth would never say the words. I know what he wanted, but even though it seemed I was on the submissive side of this interaction, it was Sleeper who was at MY mercy. I wasn't servicing him, he was MY puppet. That was the trick to it, as Carol taught me. When you had the thing the other person wanted, you were actually the one in complete control. And using that to give a reward, or withhold pleasure tipped the balance of power. Driving your partner further into frenzy escalated sexual pleasure, and they willingly lowered barriers and reluctance. That was what kept Sleeper coming back. He knew I could drive him to lose control, and the challenge of retaining his dignity in the face of overwhelming desire was a knife edge that made him cum harder, longer and deeper than any other sex he'd ever had. So why was I doing this? For one simple reason. I was determined to make him break his own leash. I relished the thought of this slab of prime masculine hetero manhood finally recognizing his ass as the center of his pleasure while reconciling it with being straight, joining me in that sparsely populated club. And I was in a mood tonight. Maybe it was the fucked up week, maybe it was the alcohol, or finger banging Wanker's cum-slick hole, or the revelation of Zeus being gay, or how I'd relived Kevin taking my ass cherry on his birthday, or all of the above. I didn't examine it too closely, not caring why. I was slightly angry, hurting, and feeling like I needed payback for the huge hole I'd torn out of my soul and how I always sought to help everyone else while my heart screamed out for someone to help me.
I completed the entire circuit of the area around his opening, biting, sucking, licking and chewing every square inch of his cheeks and valley. He was moaning incomprehensible garbage about needing it, please, his hole, go in, just touch it once, swearing he'd cleaned, even up inside, how he wanted to taste good for me, that he'd be good, wouldn't move, and on about my tongue and mouth, describing them with his limited vocabulary of hard, slippery, warm. When he started in on gorgeous, lovely, beautiful, good, I knew it was time. His hole was pulsing, his pucker pushing out, then squeezing tight again, he was working it to entice me, demonstrating his willingness to give it to me for whatever I wanted to do to it, just please do SOMETHING. He had to have me dig deep into him.
I flicked just the tip of my pointed tongue against his shitter, quick. He spasmed. "More" he panted. I gave him a full, pressing lick and pulled back again. His head was moving side to side, eyes closed. His hands gripped his ass, spreading it as far as it would go. I placed my open mouth over his hole and sucked hard, and I felt him flowering open, so I jammed my tongue into the soft inner flesh he exposed to me.
"Oh fuck! Oh God yes, buddy. Deeper" and he grunted to push out and bear down even more. "Get in there, shove down on the outside....gggggnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhh"
I slipped my index finger up past my chin and rubbed his hole while I penetrated him orally. I swirled my tongue, tasting the sweet juice lining the interior. No, I'd never had the opportunity to do this to Kevin, it just never came up. It was always me on my back or my knees, or stomach where he wanted me. He dictated my every move, every position, every feeling. And after him, I never wanted anyone else go there on me, knowing it would pollute the limited memories I had of giving myself to him. Those had to stay pure, like my painful love for him.
Go away. Please, Kevin.
Please.
I went full animal then, growling and drooling while I tore into Sleeper's pristine temple of holy manhood, his inner sanctum. I was going to desecrate this amazing monument that was his muscle bound ass, the source of his athletic strength and power. He didn't realize this wasn't about him, it was about me and my need to make him feel what I felt when Kevin tore me up, and my desire to regain that feeling even if it was by proxy through Sleeper's magnificent ass.
"Holy fuck Andrew, what.... Fuck! Shit! I'm fucking cumming, don't stop, don't you fucking stop trashing my hole, don't you dare fucking stop, oh God, oh "
I jammed two fingers down to my knuckles right up into his prostate and ground into it as hard as I could.
"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKK" he screamed as he started shooting, not even touching his dick, both of his hands occupied by pulling his ass wide.
I stood up suddenly, yanked my dick out of my shorts and shoved it in his ass, punching all the way inside him with a single movement.
"FFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKK IM GONNA KILL YOU!" Which was a complete lie because his cock was shooting even harder. He started bucking, his hands pushing at my hips, but I started hammering him into the fucking sink, making his head bounce off the wall. My first load greased his guts within five strokes. He punched me hard in the center of my chest, and I knew he was trying to hurt me. But he couldn't put his body behind it because I was pounding the shit out of him and he was stuck against the wall. The sink was creaking beneath us. I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his chest and kept thrusting up into him at just the right angle to punish his prostate like a punching bag.
"You MOTHERFUCKER." Spittle was flying from his mouth. "No! Not again! FFFFUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKK" And he shot again, his cum flying everywhere from his hard cock bouncing between us. He got a solid wad right in his handsome prick face and that pushed me into my second orgasm. I bent over on a powerful upstroke and licked his nut off his cheek, burying my 8 inches to the root and squirting the last few schools of swimmers deep. Chest heaving, I ripped my cock from my buddy's used hole, causing him to cry out.
"Well what the everlovin' FUCK, bro?" He snarled.
"Relax dude." I said, unimpressed. I knew I needed to give him an out. Oh, I was fine with taking a beating if he needed to dish one out. Might be good to maybe feel something again, but I doubted even the worst ass whooping would get me where I needed. In spite of his anger, Sleeper wouldn't try to seriously hurt me, and that was what I really needed: a no holds barred murderous rampage beating. I needed a violent purge, the sweet release of overwhelming pain, to be taken to the brink of death where the only choices were giving up or fighting to survive. But neither one of us needed the trouble that would bring, and Sleeper was a pure spirit, the kind of guy who didn't want to hurt people. "I lost control, I was just as horny as you. I needed a hole. Sorry bro."
He gave me a pissed off look. "Then you owe me one, fucker."
"You got the last part right." I laughed. "Fucker".
He stared at me for seconds, then a grin started at the corners of his lips. Then he busted out laughing. "Outstanding. Did you cum in me, man?"
I nodded, holding up two fingers.
"TWICE?" He reached down to feel his hole. "It doesn't even hurt."
I shrugged. "I know what I'm doing. I picked the moment deliberately."
He pulled his fingers up to look at them, sniffed, then tentatively stuck his tongue out to taste. "Brojuice. Fine. I'm not mad having your cum in me. But you should have asked, bro."
"Asking would have ruined it. You know that man. Ruined it for both of us. Look, you're not gay, I'm not gay, and that wasn't about being pretty gay boyfriends."
His face expressed his disbelief. "Then what the fuck was it about, huh? And what if I wanted to be your pretty gay boyfriend?"
I laughed. "You think you're the pretty one? Dude I'm the pretty one."
"The fuck you are! Look at me. I'm a fucking gay wet dream."
"True. I think it's that cum all over your face that seals it."
He grinned. "Yeah, you seemed to like it just fine, I noticed."
I grinned back, and took the opportunity to go lick the rest of his cum off his face. He let me, patiently turning his face, pointing to certain spots for me to lick.
When I was done, I put my forehead on his. "Now we're even. Better than blood brothers. I have your dna in me, and you've got mine in you."
He closed his eyes. "Brother." Whispered.
"Brother " I whispered back. I must have been wrong about needing a beat down. This felt so much better. This almost felt real