Samuel

Samuel was problematic for me. We were classmates and roommates for about six months during Navy "A" school, which meant we were together nearly every waking minute, seven days a week. And he drove me absolutely nuts.

Not because of any personal failings. Far from it, he was awesome. Generous, kind, deliberately inclusive, funny as all hell, open and sincere when the occasion warranted, competitive in the best of ways, largely unaffected by other people's bullshit, he was then and is now one of the best people I've ever known.

And God knows his appearance didn't hurt anything. He was, in a word, gorgeous. About 6'3" and something over 200lbs of ripped muscle, with dark, dark skin and a face so pretty you could lose your train of thought just looking at him, he made most of the girls and no few of the boys swoon. Which probably clues you in as to why he was problematic for me.

I'd resolved to pay the price for not realizing I was queer until after I'd enlisted by being a monk, at least until I was in the Fleet- this was before even DADT, mind you, much less acceptance- and here I was spending hours in a tiny little room with a walking reminder of how much I'd rather be exploring my suddenly-awakened sexuality.

Sam and I got along from the start. Couple of good natured jock wiseasses with similar attitudes about people and the daily grind of life in the service and just the world in general. By the end of our first week knowing each other we were tag-teaming the humor in and out of class. Our trash talk on the basketball court drew spectators.

And our one-upmanship quickly took on a life of its own. We were both in great shape, even for being in the military, and we both liked to show it off when occasion presented. Which brings us to the beginning of our story.

One day I came back to the barracks as a working party was going on, maybe twenty men and women out doing general maintenance and cleanup of the complex, and the first thing I saw was that Sam had stripped off his dungaree shirt to work in a tank top.

"Look at this clown," I said to one of the girls in our class. "Gotta get all the attention all the fucking time."

"I don't mind," she said with a laugh.

"Watch me piss him off," I said. She laughed again when I peeled off both dungaree shirt and t-shirt, joining in the work with my chest bare. Sam affected a sneer when he saw me.

"Man," he said, "look at this fuckin'..."

"S'up?" I said, grinning at him.

"Alright, bitch," he said. "You don't even want to start."

"S'up?" I said again. He laughed and headed into the barracks. By the time he came out most of the working party had caught on that something was up, and everyone laughed uproariously when they saw that he'd lost the wife-beater and put on a pair of running shorts. Mind you, this was before Jordan popularized the baggy look, our issue shorts were nuthuggers. Sam was bare skin from the waist up and from his upper thighs to his boots.

"Oh, come on," I said. "Boondockers? And black socks? With running shorts? I win on your bad taste."

"It's a working party, son," he said. "We wear boots to work in this man's Navy. I'm only out of uniform if the Chief says I am."

We looked at our boss, Chief Duncan, who was watching in benign amusement.

"Hey," he said with a shrug. "This ain't a parade. I seen motherfuckers work in their boxers in the tropics."

"Yeah, okay," I said. The laughter was even more uproarious when I stepped out of my half-laced boots, pulled off my pants, slipped my feet back into my boondockers, and went to work wearing only my issue white boxers.

"I like this game," said Susan, the girl I'd spoken to. "Look at all the abs."

Sam laughed with everyone else. He grinned at me for a long minute, then reached for the waistband of his shorts.

"Don't count," I said. "Unless you finish the working party."

"Shit," he said, still grinning. He stood indecisively for a minute, but when I started to raise my arms in triumph it was too much. Off came the shorts, revealing a nice crisp pair of tighty-whities. The laughter was riotous, with guys turning their heads and even running away around the building.

We looked at each other a minute, both smiling broadly, then I shrugged.

"Tie?" I said. "It's all underwear. And you don't want to dare me."

"You wouldn't," he said.

"Sam," I said, "I would spend the night naked in the lounge on a dare."

"Fuck it," Sam said, reaching for his waistband. I reached too, but the Chief interrupted.

"Nope," he said quickly. "Nope, nope, nope. I call it a tie. Shorts stay on. Idiots. Finish my deck and get your asses to your homework."

It was only when the laughter had died and we were actually working that the oddness really struck me. I was in my underwear, in the center of a five-barracks complex that housed hundreds of students, sweeping the concrete. With seemingly half the Navy hanging out the windows to watch and laugh. The Chief was right, we were idiots. I made that point to Sam when we finally got to our room.

"Yeah," he said, grinning ear-to-ear as he opened the door. "Can't even deny."

"Can't deny what, Booter?" said Jeff, our senior roommate. "A" School isn't like a frat, there's not a strict hierarchy, but when guys straight out of boot camp are roomed with guys who are near the end of the curriculum seniority does lend some authority.

Our situation was a little odd because I was actually a Fireman, an E3, for having some college credit. Meaning that I technically outranked both Jeff and our fourth roommate, Scott. They were a couple of assholes, but the dynamic had settled into a kind of détente. They didn't try to make us do their laundry or make their beds or any shit like that, and we accepted polishing the floor and cleaning the window and other little things. And them calling us "Booter," which was especially silly given that they were a whopping ten months further from boot camp than we were. Combined.

The only real annoyance was the bunk bed. The way our four-person rooms were set up was normally four single beds, with a desk and a wide wall-locker for each person. The desks had cabinet tops that made them about six feet tall, and normal practice was to put the heads of the beds along one wall and the lockers opposite them, with the desks between the beds to form kind of a bay or cubicle, thus allowing each person a little privacy. It was tight quarters and you had to sit on the edge of the bed to use the desk the way it was intended, but the privacy was more than worth it.

Unfortunately for us, Jeff and Scott had been in the room by themselves for a few weeks before we'd gotten there, and they'd managed to swap out two of the single beds for the bunk bed and short couch that should have been in the duty room. No way we were getting the singles back, the duty petty officers would have murdered us for trying. So until the boys graduated and went to the fleet, they got to watch TV comfortably and keep chairs at their desks and we got to sleep on a sagging, ancient bunk, Samuel's ass arcing down so low I bumped it when I climbed out of bed. Good times.

"Can't deny that we're sexy motherfuckers," said Sam in answer to Jeff.

"Why the fuck are you in your shorts?" said Scott.

"He just told you," I said. "Because we're sexy motherfuckers. We can't cross the quarterdeck without getting our clothes torn off, man."

Sam laughed, Jeff snorted derisively, and Scott called us a homophobic slur. I went to my locker to get some sweats, but as I started to pull them out Sam bumped me lightly with an elbow and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Having absolutely no problem looking at his nearly-naked body for a while longer, I went along. We did the evening routine in companionable exhibitionism, cleaning the room and tending to our uniforms and cracking the books, all of which were daily requirements. It wasn't until I went down to the rec room for a soda that Sam was able to explain why he'd denied our modesty.

"Hey," he said, strolling casually into the room behind me, big grin on his face, as if hanging out in his BVDs was par for the course. "You know why I'm fucking with them, right?"

"I didn't even know you were fucking with them. I just figured you'd lost your mind."

"That, too," he said. "Nah, man. Didn't you see how hard Jeff was staring at you?"

"Nope." I didn't add that with Sam mostly naked I probably wouldn't have seen a rhinoceros in the room. And it was a small room.

"Yeah, man. Both of 'em, but especially Jeff. Seen it before when you come back from the shower in a towel or whatever. He looks at me, too."

"Yeah?" I said. "No, I hadn't noticed. Huh."

Curious, I decided to test Sam's observation. After my shower I came back to the room and stood at my locker stark naked while I put on lotion and used the little mirror on the door to tend to nonexistent stray hairs at my sideburns.

Two things were obvious: One was that Jeff was, in fact, staring. The other was that Sam was taking a good long look, too. He was in the chair at the desk by our bed, his eyes level with my cock, and his gaze was fixed enough that he didn't even see me grin at him. After a few minutes I walked over to the bed, still naked, and stopped right in front of him. Neither of the idiots could see us, which was probably for the best.

"Got radar-lock, Mav?" I said.

"Shit," he said, laughing. "Nah, Goose, he's too close for missiles. I'm switching to guns."

Never did put any clothes on that night. I kept waiting for someone to say something, just to see who'd break, but nobody did. And Sam couldn't let himself be upstaged, so after his shower he followed suit. Y'know, just your typical completely-heterosexual-and-don't-you-dare-say-otherwise all-male environment.

The next couple of days followed the same pattern. Sam and I walked around naked after our showers, everyone got a show, nobody hurried to put his clothes back on. And nobody offered a peep of protest. The only difference was that when Sam tried to turn my trick around, walking up naked while I sat in the chair, it was him that blinked. I just took a long look at his big, uncut cock, then looked up to meet his eyes.

"So that's no myth," I said. He cracked, hopping up onto his bed with a laugh.

Any game gets boring if it just repeats. Especially a sexual game, if it just repeats and doesn't lead to, y'know, sex. Since I couldn't fuck any of the boys, particularly Sam, I pushed the teasing. By the end of the week I was spending most of my time in the room naked and almost never putting on more than boxers. The idiots, Jeff especially, stared openly and shrugged off my insincere offers to get dressed. And Sam, bless his heart, just couldn't let me one-up him. I saw a hell of a lot of his perfect body and more than a little of his gorgeous cock.

He mimicked anything I did. If I sat naked on the edge of Jeff's desk while I discussed a problem on an upcoming test, Sam found an excuse to sit in the same spot. If I stretched or threw off a set of pushups, he immediately followed suit. If I sat akimbo on a chair, junk on display, he nervously found a similar pose.

Mind you, his bit of hypocrisy wasn't lost on me. I left it alone at first, because Jeff and Scott really were assholes and I was pretty sure their repression was one of the root causes of that assholery, but I can't help holding up mirrors when I can be a wise-ass about it. Sam brought it on himself.

It was the end of another long day of exhibitionist attention-whoring. It is hard goddamn work being queer, closeted, macho, fabulous, horny, and frustrated all at once. Sam and I had the room to ourselves because the boys had off-base passes, and we were amusing each other with brutal jokes at their expense. My exhibitionism is well established, but even so it was the "straight" guys, Sam included- hell, Sam especially- who were the most excited by all the nudity.

"Seriously, Kenny," he said after a long, hilarious recounting of me waving my cock in Jeff's face while we talked about a knotty problem on my upcoming test. "I thought he was going to dive on it. I don't think he blinked once."

"Yeah," I said. "He completely lost what we were talking about."

"We're laughing, man," he said. "But it's sad if you think about it. You want some dick, you should get some dick. Can't be going through life scared to be who you are."

The side-eye I aimed his way was off the scale, but he didn't notice.

"Yeah," I said. "That is, in fact, pretty sad. People scared to be who they are."

"Hey," he said, "next time you get a hard-on you should do that again. Motherfucker's head might explode."

"Or his cock," I said, miming an exaggerated orgasm. Sam laughed so hard he had to sit down.

"So," I said. "That's not too far? Waving my boner in a repressed dude's face from two feet away? Be funny to me, sure, but we might be inching up on a line, here."

"Fuck 'em," Sam said. "You've offered to get dressed like five times. Me too. He's makin' the world a little nastier with his homophobic bullshit. Every time he says 'faggot' he earns the worst we can do. Seein' a naked dude up close a lot more likely to make him better than worse."

"All right," I said. "You know I'll do it. Just want to make sure you're complicit. We agree that it would be hilarious to wave a big, hard cock in the face of a dude that's clearly in denial."

It's not even like I was hiding who I was really talking about. The smirk on my face had to be as plain as day.

"Yeah, man," he said, grinning widely. "And if he's smart and puts a move on it, I'll give you two some quality time."

Didn't seem to be any sense wasting around. I spent a few extra minutes in the shower that night, thinking about sex and washing my cock very thoroughly. Wasn't easy holding it under my towel on the way back to the room without attracting attention, but speed and timing were my friends.

Sam was at his desk. Nowhere else to be, really, except in bed. I walked straight over, put a foot on the arm of the chair, and shoved him back diagonally, trapping him against the wall in the narrow space between desk and bed.

"Hey, man," I said, dropping my towel. "What do you think of this? Think a dude with repressed homoerotic urges will be able to resist?"

"The fuck?" he said. "Kenny-"

"I know, right?" I said. "I mean, I can't claim any credit, but it's a pretty awesome cock."

"Damn it," he said, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing. First a little, then a torrent, his hand over his face in embarrassment. I leaned on the bed and left my erection aimed at him for at least a full minute while he laughed and stared straight at it.

"Well," I said when he finally started to get the giggling under control, "you were honest. You did, in fact, find it hilarious."

"All right, all right," he said. "Well played, motherfucker. Get it away."

"You sure? You wanna be smart, put a move on it, I'll let you."

"Move," he said forcefully, although still with a laugh in his voice. I flopped down onto my bunk, not bothering to cover up.

"I'll get you back for that shit," he said.

"Yeah?" I said. "Gonna get some wood and wave it in my face? Got news for ya: You're there. All you gotta do is drop your shorts."

I pointed at the obvious erection that was tenting his running shorts.

"Aw, man," he said, laughing again. "I surrender. White flag, fucker. You a cold piece of work."

He beat a retreat to the shower and the idiots were home by the time he got back, so his white flag ended the skirmish.

The next week was our last with Jeff and Scott. They'd made it to graduation, and much to our delight both of them shipped out straight away. My hope was for any kind of improvement in our next roommates, but our luck was better than that. It was Sam who spoke up when Chief Duncan started assigning the next class their quarters.

"Hey Chief," he said. "You know we got that ancient bunk bed, right? Think you can hold off on giving us new guys until we get some real racks for 'em?"

The Chief looked like he might snarl, but Sam grinned at him.

"First in the class, second in the class," Sam said, pointing from me to himself. The Chief broke into a grin.

"First class clown," he said. "Second class clown... All right, fine. I'll order up a couple new racks. 'Til then you got the Hilton."

Do I need to tell you the game went to a whole new level once we were alone? I don't need to tell you the game went to a whole new level once we were alone.

The game went to a whole new level once we were alone.

Sam wasn't sure what was up. That much was clear as soon as we got back to the room. We stayed dressed while we moved our gear and shuffled the furniture a bit, and it seemed to me that he was a little disappointed about it. So, of course, I dropped my towel the instant I came back from the shower and moved straight into his personal space, sitting on the edge of his desk while I put on lotion.

"Shit," he said with a grin. "I was afraid you were gonna do something like this."

"You were afraid I wasn't," I said. "Check out my abs, man. I been doin' those oblique exercises you showed me."

"Yeah, you're gettin' pretty ripped. Not like mine, but..."

"Samuel, your obliques look like a fella could use them as handles. Many's the night I was tempted to grab them and pick you up onto your rack. I will not have my perfect torso disparaged by specious comparisons to a Greek god. I am but a man, after all."

He laughed, obviously delighted with the praise. His eyes followed my hands as they lotioned up my shoulders and chest and abs, and when they reached my cock I could actually see him take a big breath.

"See," I said, "the trouble with putting lotion on your cock is that the more you use, the more you need."

"Until suddenly you got too much," he said with a laugh. "I'm gonna grab my shower. Like, right now."

He didn't quite run out of the room. Nearly, but not quite. And when he came back, he stood close and grabbed my lotion bottle.

"Don't want to ash up," he said. By the time he was done, we were both sporting substantial wood. And neither of us bothered to hide our stares.

That was the routine for the next couple evenings. Class, work, play, shower, teasing. And while I was probably winning on points in the pushing-things-along department, it was Sam that initiated the touching. I'd just finished my routine, lotioning up about three feet from his rapt gaze, when he took me by surprise.

"Do your back?" he said.

"Sure," I said. "Thanks."

His hands actually trembled when they touched my shoulders. That faded quickly, though, and the only word to describe the slow, exploratory way he worked his way down my back is "sensual." There was a readily noticeable bulge in his pants as he fled to the shower.

I was already holding the lotion when he got back. He laughed when he saw me, but he didn't hesitate to drop the towel.

"Do your back?" I said.

"Yeah," he said. There was a certain huskiness to his voice.

His body really was spectacular. We both subsumed a lot of our pent-up sexual energy in working out, and it showed. His back was broad, the V down to his waist dramatic, and the big muscles in his shoulders were beautifully defined. By the time I got to the small of his back I was enraptured.

The only question was how far he'd let me go. He didn't protest when my hands drifted to his sides, nor when they glided over his narrow hips. I figured his perfect, round, rock-hard ass would be the limit, but he only stiffened a little as I crept my way onto it, and he actually relaxed by the time I was done.

So I kept going. I dropped down to my knees and slowly worked my way down his muscular legs. Even his calves were big and cut and well shaped.

At last I was done, much to my disappointment. I hadn't noticed until I stood up, but my cock was more than a little swollen. When he turned, my better judgment failed me.

"Do your front?" I said. There was a long pause.

"Yeah," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

If touching his back had turned me on, touching his chest was like foreplay. Michelangelo would have been proud to have carved Sam's torso. By the time his pecs were thoroughly moisturized I was way past teasing. Had he been ready for it, he could have fucked me right then.

His abs drove me crazy. I think I put all the lotion on them with my fingertips, and I probably did every inch of them at least twice. My hands actually started toward his completely-erect cock, but he twitched back and I stopped.

I didn't hesitate to drop to my knees when I'd finally exhausted the time I could reasonably spend fondling his obliques. His thighs were magnificent, but honestly it was pretty tough to concentrate on them with his cock right in front of my face. It was hard enough that it had a drop of pre-cum at the tip. And it was gorgeous. Long and thick and perfectly shaped, with the head just peeking out of the foreskin at full mast. It jumped at one point, and I realized my face was close enough that he'd felt my breath.

I didn't even get up when I was done. I just laughed and fell back onto my ass, my own cock as hard as his.

"Jesus fuck, man," I said. "You were chiseled out of stone by a sex maniac. Never change your workout. Ever. Just do exactly what you do right now for your whole life."

"Fuckin' Kenny," he said, laughing and falling back onto a chair. "I almost said something about your shoulders, but it seemed like too much. Ain't nothing too much for you, though."

"Not much, no."

Returning to our room had become like some kind of Pavlovian conditioning. I started to get hard as soon as afternoon muster was over. By the time we headed for the shower the next day- simultaneously this time- hiding under a towel was a bit problematic. We watched each other wash, which was a huge reason not to shower together and one that I filed away. Too many guys in that shower, all the time.

"You first," he said when we got back to the room. He tossed me the lotion bottle, his towel already on the floor.

All that stuff I wrote up there about touching his body? That. Again. No loss of effect for being repeated. I was beside myself with lust by the time I stood up after finishing his legs. He did my back again, and I was literally holding my breath to see if he'd keep going.

He did. My erection bobbed in front of me as he rubbed the lotion into my ass, and when he came around in front I saw that his cock was as hard as mine.

"Damn," he said. "I, ah... oh, fuck it."

He touched my chest and torso as languidly as I'd done with his. And he was completely rapt, I really thought he might kiss my chest a couple times.

He stayed on his knees for a minute when he was finished. His eyes were locked on my very, very hard cock.

"Hey," he said. "You trim your hair down here, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why? So it looks bigger?"

"That doesn't hurt any. But also because I don't like flossing when I go down. Least I can do if I'm going to ask someone to trim their pubes is keep my own nice and neat."

"You shave your nuts?" he said.

"Yeah. Got a special little electric just for that."

"Show me how?" he said.

"Sure," I said. I got out my clippers and my little electric body groomer, but when I started to turn them on my crotch, Sam stopped me.

"Your junk is clean," he said. "It's mine that's a mess."

I grinned and leaned back against my locker.

"Yeah, all right," I said. "But the word of the day is 'reciprocation.'"

"That's a big word," he said, returning my grin.

"And fraught with meaning."

"'Fraught.' Who says 'fraught'?" he said, then took on the worst snooty English accent ever. "I say, my good man, your choice of vocabulary is positively rife with implication."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "You gonna fondle my cock or what?"

"You first," he said with a laugh.

It was the third time I'd been on my knees in front of him. And the third time I couldn't do what I really wanted to while I was there. I was very, very careful to maintain a casual air, figuring open lust would end the game.

Not that I didn't have a good time. He gasped when I gently took his half-erect cock in my hand. I didn't exactly stroke it as I moved it around to get access to his big balls and his pubic bush and his perineum, but I didn't exactly not stroke it, either. It should probably take... what, five minutes? ...to trim that area. Took me maybe twenty. By the time I was done he was breathing hard and didn't seem far from getting off.

"Okay," I said. "One high and tight. Don't forget to tip your barber."

"I almost did," Sam said, then immediately looked embarrassed for saying it. Which I didn't help by grinning at him for a long few seconds, until he finally broke and laughed.

"Hell," I said standing up and offering the tools. "If you think that was fun, wait'll you get your hands on mine."

He took the tools readily enough, but then just stood there staring at my cock.

"Come on," I said. "Kneel before Zod."

He cracked up, but after another second he got down on his knees.

As significant as it is to touch anyone's naked junk for the first time, it's that much more profound when there's all that garbage about same-sex activity in the way. Sam actually sighed when he took my hard cock in his hand, and he didn't even seem to be aware of it. I didn't tease him. After all, I was only weeks from my own first time getting sexual with a man.

He went slowly, if not quite as slowly as I'd done. And even though he never touched it, his cock stayed proudly erect the entire time. By the time he finished his tentative first touch had become a more sure grip, and he kept hold of it until he'd stood up.

"Okay," he said. "Wasn't really much to take off."

"Nah," I said. "I try to be a classy bitch."

Sam laughed and beat a retreat to his bed, and I mostly left him alone the rest of the evening. Neither of us got dressed, though.

The next couple nights we repeated the lotion routine, with the addition of putting it on each other's cocks. We had to be the two softest-skinned guys in the Navy. And the two horniest. I know I wasn't masturbating, and if he was he was sneaking out of the room to do it. Spending a solid hour every night with some degree of an erection and no satisfaction at the end had me about ready to fuck a knothole in a tree.

It was Sam, again, that next raised the level. He was standing behind me, working on my shoulders and arms, having this time gone bottom-to-top up my legs and back. I breathed a laugh as he ran his hands down my biceps.

"See," I said. "I can't even reach the front of your arms when I do your back. I lose track of how much bigger you are until we get this close."

Our size difference really was enormous. My last big growth spurt came after my eighteenth birthday. By the time I left the Navy I was around 5'10" and 180lbs, but when I enlisted I was only 5'7"-ish and in the 140lb range. Which means Sam was half a foot taller than me and maybe sixty pounds heavier. Out in the world I didn't notice it so much. My competitive streak just registered bigger people as challenges. In close, especially naked, it was like we were different species.

"Hell," Sam said. "I could reach your chest and abs from here, too."

He gently pulled me against his chest. His cock, which was completely erect, pressed against my ass. When his arms slid around me to caress my chest it drew an involuntary sigh out of me, and it was everything I could do not to lay my head back on his shoulder. He took his time, his warm breath on my neck, and when his hands finally reached my cock they definitely gave it a few strokes that weren't strictly required for moisturizing purposes. And he didn't immediately step back after letting go of it. His hands drifted back up to my chest, still holding me close, and I was keenly aware of his erection against my ass.

"Yeah," I said, my voice thick. "This is much more efficient. You should definitely do it like this more often."

He breathed a laugh, so close it was like he was blowing on my neck. I didn't quite swoon. Not quite.

"All right," he said, almost whispering it in my ear. "But what are you gonna do? You gotta jump up to reach my knee."

"Right? But I better come up with something, or you're gonna win this round."

He laughed at that. His arms were hadn't moved, so I turned around without stepping away, leaving us chest to chest and cock to cock. He still didn't let go. We grinned at each other, inches apart.

"If you're playing chicken," I said, reaching awkwardly for the bottle of lotion, "you're going to lose."

"Huh uh," he said, grinning.

I was able to reach around him pretty well, of course. Which doesn't mean I did it quickly or efficiently. Doing the top of his shoulders and the back of his neck with my arms around him can't be called anything but an embrace, and if it had been tough to keep my head clear with his breath against my neck, resisting the urge to kiss his beautiful face just inches from mine was a conscious act of will.

His hands slid down to my waist when I leaned back far enough to rub the lotion into his chest, but he still didn't let go. Nor did I make any pretense of being anything less than sensual about the task. Once I'd rubbed the lotion in I spent maybe five minutes tracing the outlines of his well-defined muscles before grinning up at him and tweaking his nipples.

His laugh faded to a moan as I slid down to my knees, dragging his cock slowly along my chest and letting it bump off my chin. I know he could feel my breath while I reached around to fondle his ass at some length. And when I finally took his balls in one hand and his cock in the other, his knees started to buckle. Just seconds later, before I'd really even started playing with his big, sexy equipment, he reached down and stopped me.

"Whoa," he said. "Hold up."

"What?" I said. Then I caught on and laughed. "Uh oh. I warned you."

"Nah, nah," he said. "You'd only win if you went further. You don't get points 'cause I've got blue balls."

"You almost gave me a facial. You want to win, feel free to put more lotion on my cock."

I stood up, still holding his cock, his hand still keeping mine from moving.

"Or," I said, "just move your hand for about thirty seconds and I'll give you the win. I mean, I'll call you minute man, but I'll give you the win."

"Let go," he said, laughing. When I did he flopped down on his bed, cock slapping against his stomach.

"You ain't kidding about the blue balls," I said. "I bust a nut right now we'll need a bucket to clean it up."

"For real," he said. "Feels like I been hard for a month."

Could I have made the move right then? Yeah, probably. But at eighteen I hadn't spent any points on Seduction yet. We both went to bed pent up. Again.

The next night was a repeat, albeit with Sam more on point, ready to stop my hand the instant the lotion was on his cock. The closeness and the caresses were driving me out of my mind. In a good way, of course, but out of my fucking mind.

He caved to the tension first. I woke up somewhere in the small hours, hearing something indistinct, and realized that my covers had been pulled back. I was naked, semi-erect, and on full display by the moonlight streaming in our window. And when I looked to see what the soft noise was, the reason for my exhibition became clear. Sam was sitting on the side of his bed, staring at my body and jacking off. He was obviously trying to be quiet, his breath coming in little suppressed gasps. He was also obviously very close to cumming.

It was all too much for my self restraint. When I sat up he jumped about three feet. But when I stood and put a hand on his chest to push him down onto his back, he went without resistance. I sat on the edge of his bed, took his cock in my hand, and set about finishing what he'd started.

"Just a dream," I whispered. "We won't even remember it tomorrow."

His cock was hot in my hand, and his perfect abdominal muscles jumped when my thumb slid across his glans. Clearly this was not going to take long.

Sure enough, after only a few minutes his abs started flexing and his cock swelled. The orgasm, when it took him, was huge. He shot better than half a dozen long, thick ropes of cum all the way up onto his chest, and he kept pumping for a long few seconds even after that.

For all the sexiness of his body and for all the fun of really working on his cock for the first time, it was his face I watched as he came. We were looking each other right in the eye. When he'd finally come down enough to focus, I grinned and winked and got him a towel, then rolled back into my rack.

"Night, Samuel," I said. He just groaned a laugh and made no answer.

We went through our morning routine in a sort of grinning awkwardness. The only acknowledgment of what had happened was Sam feigning throwing his cum-encrusted towel at me when he got up. No comment was made until we were sitting in the galley at lunch and someone started going on comically about how horny he was.

"Yeah," said Sam amidst the group's laughter. "I had a sex dream last night. Don't really remember it, but it must have been hot. Even with jackin' off I woke up horny."

Everyone laughed and a few of the guys acted disgusted that he'd admitted to masturbation. Doubtless they were the guys who beat it constantly.

"Best look out, Kenny," said a big islander named Shawn. "He's gonna be shootin' it all over your room. Might wanna wear foul weather gear to bed."

He mimed stroking an enormous cock, jerking it around like it was out of control and spraying everyone at the table.

"Nah," said a Filipino kid named Manny. "You heard him. That didn't get it done. Kenny needs to sleep with one eye open. Sammy's a big dude."

"Remember," said Shawn, "it ain't gay if it's angry."

Everyone laughed, me included. Even so, I was careful not to look at Sam. My return fire waited until we got back to the room. He walked in just ahead of me, and the second the door latched I grabbed his ass hard with both hands and shoved him up against his locker.

"What the fuck?" he said.

"Don't worry, big guy," I said. "It ain't gay if it's angry. I'll just have to slap your cock around next time it needs attention in the middle of the night."

"Fucker," he said with a laugh. "Get off me. Let's get naked. Oh, oops, I mean showered."

He was grinning widely as he stripped down.

"You know," I said, "we're gonna have to start doing our studying in the lounge. Second we get to the room it gets... ah... angry."

"Shut up," he said, but he was laughing when he said it. Ten minutes later we were back in the room, clean and shiny. And naked.

This time Sam stood facing me as he rubbed me down, his touch lingering on my cock and ass. And once again, when he was finished he left his arms around me for a while. This time it was simply an embrace, chest to chest, my arms around him, too. When I finally got around to grabbing the lotion I spent probably five full minutes putting it on his back.

"Hey," I said when I couldn't justify fondling his butt anymore. "Sit down on the couch."

He did, looking at me curiously. The arched brow turned into a big grin when I sat down astride his lap, facing him.

"Damn," I said. "You really are a big motherfucker."

There was barely a pretense that it was about moisturizing his skin. I put the lotion on, to be sure, but when it was well and truly rubbed in I still sat there, slowly stroking his cock with one hand and touching his chest and abs with the other.

I fully expected Sam to stop me as he'd done before. But not this time. He watched me stroke him for a long time, then gently took my cock in his hand. A moment later his other hand moved down to my balls. No doubt about it, we were officially jacking each other off.

Needless to say, it didn't take long. I'd been pent up for weeks, and he was little better off. And I was staring into the eyes of far the sexiest person I'd ever touched. Love to tell you it went on for an hour, but I'd be lying.

It was his empathy, of all things, that sent me over the falls. A few minutes after he started stroking me he started to look absolutely ecstatic, like he was about to cum. When I realized that what he was doing was staring at my face and unconsciously mirroring my expression, it was too much. I came all over him. My balls emptied their weeks of frustration in a torrent.

Sam joined in before I'd even finished. It actually took me a second to realize I wasn't the only one groaning, and I barely had enough coherence to keep stroking him through his orgasm. By the time we were both finished the poor guy was absolutely soaked with cum.

It took a while for clarity to return to my brain, but when it did I watched Sam curiously. Sometimes guys magically turn straight again in their refractory period. And I'd gone to bed without seeing his reaction the night before.

I needn't have worried. He never even let go of my cock. While I was watching his face he was staring down at my lap, gently milking the last drops out of me and lightly fondling my balls. It took a couple minutes for him to even look up at me, and when he did the lust on his face was raw and undeniable.

And, once again, too much for my self control. Without thinking it through, I leaned in and kissed him. Not hard and not for long, but an unmistakably romantic kiss. We both froze, and I held my breath for what seemed like an hour, waiting to see if I'd ruined everything.

"Well," he said, "that was definitely the next level."

"Yes it was," I said.

"Pretty angry level," he said.

"Yes it was," I said, grinning widely.

"Don't be grinnin' at me," he said, smiling himself. "I'm having an existential conflict."

"You exist," I said. "Conflict resolved. And just so I'm clear: You're soaked in nut and still holding my dick, but it's a little peck on the lips that's freaking you out."

"Hey," he said. "I been thinking about your dick for a while now. Had my hands on it, got used to it. Kind of like it, even though it just spit all over me."

"'Kind of'?" I said. "Please."

"But," he said, ignoring my interruption, "this is new. I hadn't thought about kissing you."

"Liar."

He tried to retort, but all that came out was a laugh.

"Uh huh," I said. "And yet here we are talking instead of doing."

"Yeah, all right," he said. "Let's see. Do it again."

I tried for teasing and light, but we were way too into each other for that. The first touch of our lips was exploratory. The second was more intense. The third had all the carefully repressed energy of weeks of flirtation and play. His mouth opened the instant mine did, and he moaned when our tongues met.

It was quickly apparent that he liked to be the aggressor, and I was happy to let him. His tongue pushed into my mouth forcefully and the hand that wasn't holding my cock came up to pull my head in hard. Wayward and mischievous souls met in that kiss. By the time we broke it I was laying on the couch, Sam half on top of me, and time had ceased having any meaning. We may have made out all night had the roving patrol not slammed a door nearby, breaking our reverie.

He was still holding my cock, but at some point I'd lost my grip on his. One of my arms was around his neck, the other halfway around his broad back, idly stroking the big muscles there. We stared at each other from six inches apart for a while until the world came back into focus.

"All right," he said. "So, yes. Kissing is good."

"Fuck, Sam," I said, still a little breathless.

"Yeah." He grinned. "You, ah, need more lotion."

My cock was hard as steel in his hand. I started to say something clever, but he ran his thumb across my glans and I settled for gasping and bucking my hips.

"You're never going to sleep like this," he whispered, his hand stroking me with intent. I pulled his head back down and we kissed like lovers for another unknowable time, the orgasm slowly building until at last it overwhelmed me and I came all over both of us.

"You know," he said when I was coherent again, "getting off with our faces mashed together might just cross the line into angry."

"Yeah," I said, "good luck selling that joke. I'd need really good drugs to get any farther from angry right now."

"So selfish," he said with a grin. "You're happy, sure, but I'm still angry as fuck. I mean, I'm furious here."

"Let me up," I said. "Maybe I can calm your rage."

I expected a complicated untangling, but he just sat up, lifting me right back where I'd started astride his lap. Now that I'm a full-sized grownup I try to remember how much fun it can be to be manhandled by a bigger and stronger person. In the right mood it's such a turn-on.

His cock was half erect. I took it in both hands and kissed him again.

"Whattya think?" I said. "Up for one more next level?"

"Now I'm scared," he said, smiling again. "What level?"

"Well," I said, "rumor has it kissing is good."

"Oh, man," he said, his smile widening as he caught on. "That's... oh, man."

There was a long, quiet pause, during which his cock and my grin grew at about the same rate.

"Seriously?" I said. "This is a tough decision?"

"Not by itself," he said. "But you're gonna want me to return the favor."

"Not tonight," I said, then laughed. "Don't mean to push you, Sam. I know I gotta give you time to adjust before we inch across that next line. You're like a cat in a new house, sniffing all around every room. And always thinking the next one might be a trap."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Like you got no fear."

"I got plenty of fear," I said. "But not of you. Not anymore."

"The kissing didn't freak you out? Idea of sucking my cock doesn't freak you out?"

"Samuel," I said, my voice a whisper. "I've been dying to kiss your beautiful cock since the first time I touched it. Nothing's going to freak me out. Up to me we'd have been fucking each other's brains out since the night the idiots left."

He didn't speak, but his cock pulsed in my hands and a second later he pulled me in for another long kiss. We stayed like that the entire time I stroked his cock, not even breaking the kiss when his participation in it had become just a series of moans into my mouth. His orgasm was almost as impressive as the first had been. I reflected wryly that my new lover seemed to be part fire hose.

Normally we didn't even acknowledge our sexual activities until after all our duties were done, but the next morning as we checked each other's uniforms- keeping white uniforms clean being one of the major activities of everyone in the Navy- he put a hand on my neck and grinned.

"Kenny," he said. "What the fuck did I turn down last night?"

"Only man on record ever to say no to that," I said. "Ever. Since the beginning of time. I checked."

"Probably not true," he said with a laugh. "But still. Always say my momma didn't raise any dummies. Possible I'm wrong."

"Possible."

"Hey," he said. "You mean what you said about fucking? Or was that... is hyperbole the word I want?"

"Think it is, yeah. And that's a question for when we're batshit crazy with lust. Ask me again when you're out of your mind hot for me."

"Okay," he said with a grin. "You mean what you said about fucking?"

"Yes," I said, returning the grin.

"Damn it. How am I supposed to think about class today?"

"Hey, you asked," I said, turning away to grab my stuff. "This is why I try not to think about sex until evening muster."

"Ken," he said, pulling me back against him to whisper in my ear, "I think about sex every time I look at you. All day, every day."

And he was gone. It's possible I was blushing a little as I headed out to muster.

On reflection the idea of studying in the common lounge really did sound like a good one. We'd kept each other up until two in the morning with reveille before six, which didn't exactly bode well for our self-discipline. So I settled in right after class, Sam smirking somewhat wryly as he joined me.

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a wink.

It was a fairly torturous delay. His nearness was so distracting that I kept having to stand up and walk around to get my mind to even register the problems I was trying to solve. And every time I stood up I had to check my lap to make sure I wasn't going to wave a tent in any of my classmates' faces. The issue dungarees I'd changed into after class were thin and very tight and didn't leave a hell of a lot of room for hiding an erection. It didn't help anything that Sam's pants were as tight as mine. I could clearly see the outline of the python between his muscular thighs.

I knew I was distracting him, too, but I didn't realize how much until we got back to the room. He assaulted me the instant the door latched, pinning me up against the wall and grabbing my cock through my pants as he kissed me forcefully.

"Motherfuck, Kenny," he said, lips still touching mine. "Do you know how fucking obscene you look?"

"Yeah," I said, grinning widely. "Twenty-eight inch waist, big dick. I get a hard-on I look like I'm smuggling a cucumber."

Sam made a sound that was pretty close to a growl. One of his arms was around my back, the other hand still groping my cock, and instead of bending down to kiss me he was basically picking me up onto my toes. When I managed to get my arms out from under his and throw them around his neck, my feet left the ground completely. And when that happened he just turned and dropped both of us onto my rack, completely on top of me.

The dam had definitely burst. We kissed with the fire of new lovers. He started unbuttoning my shirt and within seconds our hands were frenetic, tugging at each other's clothes and diving under them to feel as much as we could reach. We didn't even get our pants all the way off, as soon as they were down far enough for our cocks to meet Sam grabbed them both and started humping against me, frotting his big meat against mine with something close to desperation.

We might have even finished that way, but he started trying to kick his pants off without letting go of me and without even having taken his boots off, and somehow he managed to roll himself right off my narrow rack. Didn't let go of me, though, and I ended up on top of him on the floor, both of us laughing.

"Smooth," I said.

"Shit," he said. "Sorry. I shouldn't have come at you like that."

"Jesus, Sam," I said, smiling at him. "Don't ever apologize for that. That was fucking awesome. You do that any time the spirit moves you. Seriously, really, I ain't even kidding a little bit. You do that any fucking time. We just need to get our moves down."

"What," he said with a grin, holding out his hands to encompass our sprawl, "you saying this wasn't effective?"

"Well," I said. "I admit I'm turned on."

I kissed him and we were back at it, with only a little less frenzy than before. After another couple minutes' struggle he grinned against my mouth and deliberately pushed my hands out of the way so he could pull my shirt off.

"There," he said, running his hands over my bare skin.

"Plan," I said. "I'd have to lift you to get yours off. So you're in charge of shirts, I'll handle pants."

"Aye aye, Fireman Ken."

There was laughter even with the plan. My pants came off readily enough, but he'd gotten his thoroughly stuck over his boots. By the time we were both naked some of the fire had cooled.

Came right back, though, when my glance strayed from his laughing face to his cock. It wasn't fully erect, but it had that long, languid fullness of having been erect moments before. Sam smiled when I started to crawl back on top of him, then propped himself up on his elbows, eyes wide, when he realized what I was after.

"Last chance," I said as I took his cock in my hand. He interrupted whatever next-level joke I'd have made by putting a hand on my head and gently pushing me down.

His cock was big enough to fill my mouth even before it was completely erect. I played with his foreskin, sliding it back until my tongue could reach his head and then sliding it forward so his cock and my tongue were docked. The feeling of his head pushing my tongue out as he swelled back to full erection was like his cock was kissing me back, pushing itself into my mouth like a very large tongue.

By the time it was at full potential I had room to get a good long stroke with my hand even with my mouth completely stuffed. I spent a long time bobbing slowly, exploring with tongue and lips and only lightly stroking, trying to make it last for both of us. When he started to tense, much too soon, I let him out of my mouth and kissed and licked my way down to his balls. He started to reach for himself, close enough to be impatient for the orgasm, but I grinned and slapped his hand away, then laughed at his frustrated groan.

He groaned again when I sucked one of his balls into my mouth. I left his cock completely untouched while I sucked and licked them, trying to let him cool down a little. Every inch of him seemed to be sensitive. He gasped and grabbed my head when I nipped at his thighs, and when I pushed them apart far enough to let me lick his perineum he moaned again and bucked his hips.

"Please," he said, his voice a whisper. "Please, Kenny. Finish me."

I moved my way slowly back up his cock, licking and kissing more firmly and enjoying his hands grabbing at my head in desperation. When I reached his head I gave it a couple swirls of my tongue, then dived down on it as far as I could and started sucking firmly, his hands driving me down hard and his hips bucking up to meet me. My own cock jumped every time I went down. The feel and taste of him in my mouth was just too hot, I couldn't have kept teasing him even if I'd wanted to.

He was just coherent enough to warn me when he was close. I tried to tell him it was okay with a little "mhmm,", but what came out was a long moan. He groaned again and I felt his balls tighten up, then his cock pulsed against my tongue and his orgasm filled my mouth.

There was a lot of it, and it came for a long time. I had to swallow repeatedly to get it all. Sam was certainly very virile. When the flood had at last subsided I spent a few minutes gently sucking and licking, cleaning the excess cum and enjoying the feel of him gradually going soft in my mouth.

It wasn't until I crawled up to kiss him that it dawned on me that we'd stayed on the floor the entire time. Right next to my bed. Passion, or idiocy?

"Oh my God, Kenny," he said, still breathing hard. And grinning like an idiot.

"Even better than handjobs on the couch," I said.

"Oh my God," he said again. "That was better than breathing, man. Feel like I should buy you flowers or something."

"Chocolates. In a heart-shaped box."

"Hey, we're still going to be here on Valentine's. Get you some chocolates, roses, and sexy lingerie you keep doing that to me."

"Deal," I said. "But I got something else in mind."

"Yeah," he said with a grin. "How can I be scared and hot to try something at the same time?"

"Fear's gonna last ten seconds, tops," I said.

We clambered up off the floor and onto the couch. If I'd hoped for Sam to dive straight for my lap, I had to wait. He spent another few minutes enjoying the afterglow, then moved in for a kiss that turned into a long make-out session. I loved it, obviously, but I was just about ready to grab his head and shove my cock down his throat when he finally slid to his knees in front of me.

Anything he was missing in technique he made up in enthusiasm. And I'd overestimated how long his fear would last. As soon as his lips slid over my head he let out a moan and started sucking like my cock tasted of nectar.

He did his best to imitate what I'd done, paying attention to my balls and kissing and licking his way up and down my shaft, but clearly having a cock in his mouth was revelatory. Everything else was just in the way. It was all I could do to prod him up off it for a couple minutes at a time to prolong the moment.

And he didn't hesitate when I warned him that I was close. He put a hand on the base of my shaft, pumping in time with his mouth, and when the cum started to flow he actually pulled me in deeper and held me there.

He stayed a long time, gently suckling and then kissing and licking his way around my spent shaft. There was a big smile on his face when he finally came up to kiss me.

"We," he said, "are going to have to stay the fuck out of this room until every single thing is done, every day."

"You ain't ever told a lie," I said.

I laughed when I realized he was hard again.

"See," I said. "This is a vicious cycle. Gets me hot to do you, gets you hot to do me, we could be at this until we die of dehydration."

"Hazards of the service," he said, leaning in for another kiss.

There didn't seem to be a limit to how much Sam liked making out. He crawled up onto the couch and gradually pushed me down under him again, not seeming to care that I couldn't really get him off with one hand stretched awkwardly down through his embrace. The only time he broke the kiss was to kiss and lick his way around my neck and ears and jawline and shoulders, and he absolutely loved it when I did the same.

He got me high and he kept me there for a long time. An hour? Two? I don't even know. What finally interrupted this time was my back popping when his weight shifted on me. There are limited positions available on a love seat, and I was a bit twisted.

"You okay?" he said with a laugh.

"Yeah. Let me move my leg."

"Fuck that."

He demonstrated our size difference again by simply picking me up in his arms and laying me on his bed. The kissing barely missed a beat. Our cocks were against each other again, and after a minute he coaxed my legs apart with one of his and slid fully on top of me. The position clearly drove him nuts. Within minutes he was nearly as frenetic as he'd been earlier on my bed, humping our cocks together and moaning into my mouth. I was damn near as hot as him and barely had the clarity to speak.

"Not tonight," I said.

"God, Kenny," he whispered, his voice very thick. "I can't stop thinking about it. Ever since you said it all I can think about is fucking you."

"I do have a really cute ass," I said.

"That ain't even it," he said. "I mean, yeah. I like your butt. Me and half the lounge, earlier. But it's this right here, Ken. I want the face to face and the sex all at once."

"Yeah, I get it. You don't have to sell me on fucking or being fucked. But we're too loud just making out, Sam. We start banging this bed against the wall we're in big shit."

He kept moving his hips against me, but he nodded.

"Next time we're off base," I said. "We'll get a room where we can make some noise."

We already knew we had duty the coming weekend, meaning it would be ten days until we got off base. I might as well have said we'd build a rocket and go to the moon.

It was a while before we got to sleep. Sam didn't protest when I rolled us over, and I spent a long while enjoying his body on my way down to his cock. This time I made it last, taking him out of my mouth numerous times so I could tease him with kisses and licks and little bites. His body was so expressive in ecstasy that I probably could have guessed when he was ready to finish just by watching his abs and his ass and his quadriceps flex.

I swallowed him again, and again spent a while sucking him tenderly after the orgasm. He was ready to return the favor, but I pointed to his alarm clock with a grin.

"Sleep," I said. "You can do me first tomorrow."

"Damn," he said. "It's not even late anymore. It's early."

"Yeah, we're not models of efficiency when we screw around."

There was one more new thing that night. When I tried to get up to head for my rack, Sam stopped me. There was a lot of laughter involved in trying to situate ourselves on a rack that was barely wide enough for one, but in the end he managed to spoon me to his satisfaction.

Which meant we went to class horny the next day. First bell was a signal to Sam to start kissing my neck and shoulders. By the time I escaped both our cocks were pointing the way forward.

"Come on, man," he said, grinning at me from the bed. "Breakfast of champions, right here."

"We got fifteen minutes to muster, dummy," I said, returning his grin. "And we're in whites today."

"Plenty of time," he said.

"For you? Probably."

"Oh, that's cold," he said with a laugh. "That is some cold-ass shit, right there."

All at once he surged off the bed and trapped me against the wall, his arms on either side of my head.

"You know," he said, "when I fucked my high school girlfriend I went all damn night. It's your own fuckin' fault I can't hold out with you."

"Sure," I said. "Blame the victim."

He moved to kiss me, but I ducked out of his arms and fled to the head to shave. There was still an obvious bulge in the front of his pants when he came in a few minutes later.

It was Saturday that undid my self control. When your turn came up for weekend duty at our school it meant two or three watches spread over Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday, precluding any pass into town and pretty much keeping you around the barracks all weekend. Mostly people got caught up on studying and tending uniforms and cleaning quarters and all the rest of the routine maintenance, which I'm sure was the point. We weren't just learning our jobs, after all, we were also learning how to be in the military.

What it meant for Sam and I was that of the sixty hours between the end of work Friday and reveille on Monday we spent twelve on watch, maybe eight studying and doing chores, and forty with nothing to do but each other. And we binged.

He'd figured out by then that I wasn't keeping score, that it didn't have to be a one-for-one exchange of orgasms every time we got physical. And while he was a generous lover, he was also happy to take advantage of my own generosity. I ended up with his cock in my mouth before duty Friday night, after duty, in the middle of the night when he woke up hard, first thing in the morning Saturday, after breakfast, after lunch, and again literally the instant he walked in the room after his afternoon watch.

The last go-round had him so wiped out that he almost fell asleep sitting up in the couch afterward, with me still hard as a rock. Which resulted in me standing on the couch and fucking the hell out of his face, far the roughest sex we'd had.

"Damn, Kenny," he said when I'd finished. "Thought you were going to pound that thing right through my skull."

"Don't pretend you didn't like it," I said with a quick tug of his cock, which was busily defying the laws of probability by being hard again.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Not gonna lie. That was fun. Be fun when I do it back to you, too."

"Any time, loverboy," I said. "You're good when you're rough."

"Yeah?" he said. He slid an arm behind me and I let him pull me up astride his lap. "And how am I when I'm gentle?"

I kissed him by way of answer. It went on a while, slow and languid and relaxed.

"You know," I said, smiling at him from six inches away. "All I was looking for was some dick from my hot exhibitionist roommate. I didn't expect all this tenderness."

"How you think I feel?" he said. "I never even touched another guy. Now here I am making love to one every fucking day. And thinking about it every second I'm not doing it."

It was the "making love" that did it. We kissed for another long while, my arms around his neck and his hands roaming over my back, and I couldn't get that turn of phrase out of my head. A few minutes before, when I was skull-fucking him rudely, it probably would have washed on by. High with endorphins and with my lust dialed down to a more emotional level, it worked on me. Especially when I started to kiss my way down his body, intending another round of oral cock love, and he stopped me for more kissing and embracing.

"Oh, fuck it," I said, leaning back far enough to grin at him. "Let me up a minute. C'mon, I'll be right back, let me up."

I kept lube and condoms in the back of my locker. Didn't actually need to hide the condoms, but I was always paranoid that someone would know what unlubricated condoms and a bottle of quality lube meant, so I tucked them away. It was only the lube I was after, though.

"Okay, lover mine," I said as I dropped back down onto his lap. "Normally I'm all about latex, but a used condom is like a murder weapon around here. If one backs up a toilet in an all-male barracks, doom."

"Yeah," he said. "And anybody sees one in any trashcan and it'll be the fucking Spanish Inquisition. They'll turn out every locker on NTC."

"And if we bag 'em up until we can take 'em far away, all it takes is an inspection."

"Yeah," he said. He was grinning like an idiot and trying to pull me in for a kiss.

"I'm not a virgin," I said. "But I can count my lovers on one hand. And I didn't bareback with any of them. And I get tested."

"Yeah," he said, still grinning. Since I wouldn't let him at my lips, he started kissing whatever he could reach. Chest, arms, shoulders, he didn't care.

"And you'd fuck me," I said, "if I told you there was an angry scorpion up my ass."

"Yeah," he said. He slipped a hand behind my neck and this time I let him pull me down to meet his lips. He laughed a few minutes later when I reached for his cock.

"Senior year," he said, "I started wondering if maybe I liked guys. Didn't have the guts to do anything about it. So what's the universe do? Drops you in my lap. Literally. Prob'ly figured if I don't like you, I don't like men and that's that."

"Remind me to send the universe a thank you card," I said.

"No worries. I'm sure it's queer for you, too."

He moaned and started to push up when I positioned his cock.

"Let me do it," I said. "You're big, let me get used to you."

Usually it takes a while for me to warm up to being fucked. Not this time. There was little pain, even with his size, and the intimacy of going bareback was just incredible. Within minutes I had that intense, all-over fire that only comes from the receiving end. Like a full body ASMR experience with the addition of heat. Our lips were locked together, partly just to suppress Sam's moans.

"Oh my God, Kenny," he whispered. "It's so good. I'm not going to last."

"Yeah you are," I said with a grin. "I'm not falling for a damn minuteman."

"Man," he said, "if you say things like 'falling for' I'll be done in thirty seconds."

"You're the one that said we make love. I'd have been all right with getting fucked."

"Damn it," he said, returning my grin. "You want this to last, you best shut up."

"Yeah?" I said. "So I shouldn't call you my lover and tell you this is already the most intimate, emotional sex of my life?"

"No," he laughed. "No, you shouldn't do that."

"Then I'll just talk about how your kisses are like fire. And how good your big, hard cock feels in my tight little ass."

"Shut up, shut up," he said. He grabbed my hips and pulled me all the way down, holding me still forcibly. Not actually wanting him to cum too soon, I shut up. We sat like that a long time, arms tightly wound around each other, kissing from way down in our souls. My hips moved in little circles, not really stroking him, just keeping the feeling there.

Well, just keeping the feeling and inviting my prostate to the party. The steady stroking started to feel really good after a few minutes, and it was my turn to moan. He broke our kiss and looked at me from a couple inches away.

"Your balls are moving," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "You're all over my prostate right now. Starting to feel really good."

"Will it wreck it if we start moving?"

"No, once it starts it's there. And you've got me so full we don't need to worry about angles."

He eased the pressure on my hips and I started up and down, slowly. We both moaned and immediately locked lips to keep each other quiet. I kept the pace slow for a few minutes, which was actually more than fine with me. The feeling of his big cock filling me and his bare skin sliding in and out had me somewhere near rapture.

"Go faster," he whispered.

"No," I said with a grin.

"No, really," he said. "I'm past it. Ever been really close and then pulled way back? It's gonna take me a while to get there now. Come on, bring it."

He was as good as his word. I picked up the pace and the length of the strokes, and it was definitely me that was making more noise now. He kept trying to get me to go faster until the couch started bumping on the floor and I instantly hit the brakes.

"Kenny..." he said.

"Sam," I said, "furniture bumping around because people are fucking on it sounds like furniture bumping around because people are fucking on it."

"Floors don't bump," he said, and proceeded to roll us forward onto the floor without even taking his cock out of me. I was just along for the ride.

"I love it when you do that," I said with a laugh. There were about three seconds of shifting around, then he pushed forward and we both groaned.

"Oh, fuck," he said. "That's it. Oh my God, Kenny. You okay?"

"Do it," I said, a little breathless just from his first stroke. "Come on, fuck me."

He did. I give him a hard time for being inexperienced and especially for being quick, but right there on that floor Samuel absolutely fucked me out of my mind. Whatever he'd figured out about pulling back from his orgasm worked at least three times that I counted. There may have been more, but by that time I was long gone.

It started off relatively calm. He was on top, he was in charge, but he was maybe afraid of hurting me or of getting off too quick or maybe both. He leaned down to kiss me and we went for quite a while with our lips together and my arms around his back, having a great time. At one point I moaned in the middle of a thrust and it came out kind of a yelp.

"You all right?" Sam asked, stopping his hips.

"Yeah, come on," I said. Or maybe moaned. "Fuck me. Come on, harder."

"I'll give you harder," he said with a grin and a big thrust of his hips. I let the thrust force another moan out of me, and it was on. At first I think he was trying to get me to cry uncle, but that was never going to happen. And when it didn't his energy just kept climbing. Pretty soon he was up on his arms, fucking me as fast as his hips would move and so hard I slid across the floor with every thrust.

I came first. I'd only ever cum purely from being fucked, nothing touching my cock, a couple times before. It's intense as hell, but tough to achieve. My body flushed, my balls tightened, and I floated for what seemed like forever while the tide built, not sure at first that it was going to release all on its own. When it did it was absolutely overwhelming, one of those orgasms that makes others unworthy of the name. I must have cried out, because Sam leaned down to cover me with a kiss just as my cock fired off one of the biggest loads of my life. It soaked both our bodies, shooting up far enough to hit our faces as we kissed.

"Wait," Sam said, grinning against my mouth. "You came? I didn't even know men could do that from getting fucked."

"Not often," I whispered. Whispering was all I could do at the moment. He kissed me until I came down, not moving his cock inside me.

"Fuck, Sam," I said when I was coherent again. "That was incredible."

"It looked it," he said.

"It's rare for me. I'll try to get you there when I fuck you. There's no high that high."

"I don't know, Kenny," he said. He was positively beaming. "My boyfriend came just from my fucking. I'm pretty fucking high myself."

I grinned at "boyfriend," but I was pretty sure he didn't even realize he'd said it. After a minute his hips started to move again, slowly.

"Is it all right?" he said. "Do you need to stop?"

"Get it on, thunder cock. Not gonna do anything but make me feel good now."

It didn't take him long to be back in full freight-train mode. I wasn't going to cum again, but it still felt incredible. His strong mass above me, his scorching hot kisses, both the physical sensation and the sheer intimacy of his bare cock in my body, it was all fantastic. Easily the best sexual experience of my life to that point. My cock stayed half erect and drooling the entire time, and I couldn't stop my hips from thrusting up to meet him.

He stopped to cool down repeatedly, but never took his cock out. By the time he finally finished I was too fuck-drunk to even be aware of it. He was fucking me hard and then some unknowable amount of time later he was laying on top of me, kissing my face, his cock slowly deflating inside me. We were both covered with sweat and I was breathing as hard as he was. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, and I'm sure he could feel mine.

"Hey," Sam said after a long while, a big smile on his face, "just so you know, if you get pregnant I'll do the right thing."

"Good man," I said. "And just so you know, if I get pregnant the right thing is to kill me before it bursts out of my chest and tries to eat Ripley."

There was another long pause for kissing, languid and content.

"Kenny," he said. "That was beyond anything, man. Everything we do is better than I knew sex could be, but I didn't want that to ever stop."

"You did some righteous fucking, Sam. You can do that to me every single night from now until graduation, if we don't break your dick off."

"Man, I feel ten feet tall," he said. "When you came on my cock... But that ain't even what I mean."

"Yeah, baby," I said, gently touching is face. "Me, too."

"All that stuff it's way too soon to say?" he said. "I almost said it there in the middle."

"I believe you," I said. "You did, after all, call me your boyfriend."

"Did I?" He was embarrassed. "Well, you just called me 'baby.'"

"Your penis is still in my body. I can call you any silly pet name I want. Sweetcheeks. Sugarpop."

"Thunder cock?" he said, the grin returning.

"Thunder cock, yes," I said with a laugh. "In my defense, I was high."

"Boyfriend?" he said, trying for casual and missing.

"Boyfriend," I said. "Lover. Significant other. Pick it."

There was more kissing. It got downright sappy for a while.

We were both a little wobbly when we got up off the cold tile floor. It wasn't so accommodating without waves of lust to dull the senses.

"Ow," Sam said. "My knees."

"Hell with your knees," I said helpfully. "Ow my back."

"Hey," he said, "just how stupid are we?"

With a wry look he casually tugged the mattress off his bed, leaving it right where we'd just had our amorous encounter.

Two showers later, we were back on the couch. And this is what it is to be eighteen: We were already getting horny again.