The fucking military (1982)

It was the summer of the Naranjito World Cup, of the Pope's visit, of the Falklands War... And I had to live it all in a depressing barracks in a sad provincial town.

Due to all the grand events happening in our country, the barracks were almost empty; Some were guarding strategic points in the city, others patrolled the streets - the military feared a possible attack - and many more (this was the worst that could happen to you) were doing maneuvers in Los Monegros. I had been spared that terrible fate, but instead my life was limited to standing guard day in and day out, hardly ever leaving the barracks.

I had been there for about ten days and it seemed like I would finally be able to go on leave for the weekend. I showed up on time for roll call: Standing at attention, in the middle of the courtyard, under the scorching midday sun, a few soldiers were hoping to escape from that sinister confinement. The officer of the day conducting roll call was Lieutenant Furia - also known as "la Susi". A completely crazy guy who would shoot the rats in the alley with his standard-issue pistol, and it was said that it was better to stay away when he called you for some "service".

And that day la Susi was in a bad mood. When he reached my post, he stood behind me. He ran his finger through my neck to check the length of my hair and didn't approve. So he pushed me back and restricted me to the Company until further notice.

Furious, I returned to the barrack that served as a common sleeping area, game room, and living room for about fifty soldiers. I burst into the room like a madman, shouting something like "Damn fascist son of a bitch!!". Fortunately, almost no one heard me. There was only the barracks corporal and two or three soldiers who were so poor that they never went out to save money.

I lay down on my bunk, desolate. I had the bottom bunk in the last bunk, at the opposite end of the entrance area and recreational area, where a black and white TV always broadcasted "Verano Azul" (Blue Summer). So I thought I was completely alone in my corner. And I broke down: I started crying and sobbing hysterically.

Suddenly, a rough, insulting voice: "Stop crying and get out of here, you faggot, I'm jerking off!!".

Surprised, I turned my head back and discovered, on the bunk opposite mine in the same double row of bunks, the seminude body of the owner of that loud voice.

It was Sebastian, a soldier from the fifth call-up, the tough and troublemaking ones. A twenty-year-old kid with a body that looked like he had worked in the fields and on the scaffolding since he was a child. Semi-literate, with a thick beard, six feet tall. Barefoot and shirtless, with work pants halfway down and his dick hanging out, holding a copy of the Lib in one hand while gripping his balls (solid, beautiful, hairy balls) with the other.

"Excuse me," I said, "I didn't mean to bother you, I'll go..."

I got up, frightened.

"Wait... Come here, you're going to help me!... Stand next to me!"

Obedient like a lamb going to the slaughter, I lay down on the bunk next to his, with no separation between them. It smelled strongly of billy goat. The guy hadn't taken a shower in weeks and the summer heat had taken its toll.

"Come, hold the magazine for me while I jerk off," he ordered. I obeyed. It was the typical popular porn magazine of the time, busty girls with the look of cheap whores and a wide-open dripping pussy. The magazine had seen a lot of use, you could tell by the stiff pages. He masturbated compulsively and occasionally asked me to turn the page. When he was about to cum, he stopped and rested for a while, panting. I left the magazine on the mattress and stayed still. During one of those "breaks," he asked me:

"Are you a faggot, right?"

I couldn't lie. At that point, half the city knew very well about my tendencies. Drinking binges in the military were very bad.

"Gay," I replied, trying to be precise and maintain my dignity.

"Exactly, faggot. You like cocks, don't you?"

I affirmed, a bit embarrassed.

"Look, I'm tired of jerking off, will you jerk me off while I watch the magazine?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my right hand and led it to his member.

It was a not very long but thick dick, uncircumcised, very lubricated, and, at that moment, hot and hard as a rock in the sun. I started stroking it and he seemed to like it. At first, I masturbated him slowly, sometimes caressing him from the base to the tip. Then I went faster and more rhythmically, holding the entire shaft.

He looked at the photo in the magazine of a guy cumming in the mouth of the working girl. He turned his head towards me and whispered in my ear:

"Suck my cock, come on!"

The truth is that I was longing for that. I lowered my head to his hairy belly. The male scent was even stronger. And the taste of his dick, strong, tangy. In a modern cock tasting, they would have said something like "fruity with body, notes of leather, tobacco, and wood."

I set about satisfying that totem of masculinity with dedication. Occasionally, I went down to his balls and licked them well, sticking out my tongue - he seemed to enjoy that a lot.

We were like that for quite some time, he just gasped and sometimes ordered me to stop. But at one point, without warning, he grabbed my head by the nape and pushed it all the way down to his throat. He shot a pressurized stream of hot liquid cum directly down my esophagus. He released some pressure on the back of my head and partially withdrew his cock, leaving about a third of it in my mouth. He kept ejaculating, now thick, sour semen.

When his cock finally started to soften in my mouth, I gave it a thorough tongue and lips bath and left it spotless.

"Fuck... What a faggot!" was all he said.

And that was the end of that. Sebastian became from that moment on and until he was discharged - shortly afterwards, unfortunately - not a friend, but an ally in the struggle for survival in the barracks. Every time we crossed paths alone in the training ground or during a guard change, he smiled from ear to ear and said to me, under his breath:

"Fagggoot!"