Don't Ask, Don't Tell

by Rob Rosen

  Don't Ask, Don't Tell

  By Rob Rosen

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2021 Rob Rosen

  ISBN 9781646568727

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Don't Ask, Don't Tell

  By Rob Rosen

  I spotted him outside a café, sipping his coffee and looking like he had the last time I’d seen him nearly eight years earlier, except maybe he was even more handsome, more rugged—if that was physically possible.

  I waited across the street, staring at him. He didn’t seem to notice me. Then again, he didn’t seem to notice me the first time around either, all those years ago.

  I can still remember that day like it was yesterday. See, I’d just enlisted. Was sent to Fort Jackson in Columbia, South Carolina. It was a hot, sticky, miserable place, but it was my only alternative. In and out of foster care, juvenile detention halls, and local jails, there were no jobs waiting for me, no future to look forward to.

  So I joined the Army: free food, free education, and free housing, until I got my shit together. There were lots of hunky men, too, which was a problem, but hopefully not an insurmountable one. Then again, they didn’t ask me if I liked men when I signed up. Needless to say, I didn’t tell. But, of course, I did like men. Boy, did I ever.

  They threw me in with a whole mess of them, all young, most of them like me: a little lost, in need of some discipline. I’d seen guys like this before. Fucked a whole bunch of them, too. It wouldn’t be so easy this time, though. There’s some irony that they call you Private, considering the Army is anything but. So sex, it would seem, was out of the question—for the next nine weeks of basic training, anyway.

  That first night was when I noticed him. The day had been long and grueling. Most of the men in my unit went directly to their cots and fell fast asleep. Not him, though. He went right to the shower and washed the muck and the grime off, then came swaggering out in nothing but a barely-there towel.

  In the standard greens, he looked practically like the rest of us. Not naked, though. Not by a long shot. He was two bunks over from me, so I could watch him, which I did, intently.

  He had thick, hairy legs, with massive, well-worked calves. Tree trunk legs, we called them. The kind that could break your neck, if you were lucky enough to get in between them. Above the towel were abs that defied the traditional six pack. The guy seemed to have ten of them—all rock-solid, all hairy as hell, all sliding and rippling against each other. Then came the two massive pecs, just as hairy, just as hard, with two thick, pink nipples begging to be tweaked, to be sucked, to be bitten. And the face, man oh man, was it handsome: stubbled jaw, Roman nose, the greenest of green eyes, laser intense, and, of course, the now prerequisite crew cut, brown, with just a hint of red when the light hit it just right.

  “Come on,” I whispered to myself, just under my breath. “Drop the towel. Drop the fucking towel.”

  The towel dropped, thank goodness, as did my mouth. The guy was huge. Even soft, his prick hung down four or five inches, with big, hairy balls that swayed two inches even lower. He turned around and bent over in order to dry his feet. It was an ass I’ll never forget for as long as I live. Two mounds of solid, hairy flesh with an even hairier crack that ached to be spread apart and violated—by me, of course.

  When he was done toweling off, he glanced up, looked around, and locked eyes with me for the briefest of seconds. My stomach lurched. I quickly looked away and got ready for bed. When I again looked up, he was already down for the count.

  Damn, I thought, it’s going to be a long two months.

  The next morning, too early, way before the sun poked its head above the horizon, we were woken up, told to shower, get dressed, get to the mess hall. Quick, quick, quick! Now, now, now! We all bounded up, ran to the showers, six at a time. I was in the first group. Too early, too tired to cruise. Just lathered up and rinsed off, like I was on autopilot.

  Then I took a dump. The doors to the stalls were gray metal with a slight gap—enough to look out through, right into the communal showers. It was a rare find, a ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak forecast.

  I leaned my head forward, stared across, found the hot Private from the previous night. I guessed he liked to stay clean, considering he’d already showered the night before. Lucky me. He was lathering up, rubbing the white suds across his ripped body, through all that hair. His cock and balls swayed to the rhythm.

  My hand found my dick. It was already hard, thick with coursing blood. A drop of jizz oozed from the top of the pulsing head. I spread it across my fingertips, then licked it off. Spitting into my hand, I lubed up my seven fat inches and began the slow, steady stroke, all the while watching my bunkmate as his muscles tightened, his cock bounced, his ass cheeks splayed apart when he bent over. All that glorious hair, all that taut, perfect flesh. When his asshole came into view, puckered and hairy, my balls tensed, rose an inch, and my cock thickened and shot. Stifling a groan, wad after wad of white-hot, sticky come erupted into my waiting hand. When I again opened my eyes, he was gone, replaced by six more naked men.

  I wiped off, left the stall, got dressed. I tried not to watch him get ready, failing only intermittently. Still, he didn’t seem to notice or care. He was probably accustomed to being stared at; guys like him usually are.

  The day began. More yelling, more ordering, drilling, marching, Yes, sir, no, sir, just like in the movies, only worse. Much worse. Hard on the spirit, harder on the body. By the end of the day, I ached all over, from pounding head to blistering toe. There was one saving grace, though, because my bunkmate had a name: Private John Kelly. John marched two steps back and one step over, always out of sight, never out of mind.

  At the end of the long, arduous day, he showered, went to bed, and barely said two words to anyone, while the rest of us moaned and groaned, got to know each other. Finally, lying in bed, I stared over at the top of his head, wondering what it would be like to stroke the stubbly surface and then let my hand travel down, over his broad back, through the dense matting above his ass, reaching through, spreading him open. It was the last image in my brain before I drifted off.

  Next morning was much of the same: up before the dawn, quick shower, quick jack-off, again to John, then the slow, torturous day. The routine was set in stone. That’s how the military liked it, which was fine by me, just so long as John started the day off, got me going, revved me up. Better than a hot cup of java, for sure.

  The weeks went by, not quickly, as hoped, but in a mind-blowingly measured pace. Still, I did my dut
ies, stayed out of trouble, learned the ropes, all the while keeping John in my periphery.

  The eighth week rolled around. One more to go before individual training would begin, my real military life—as if what I’d been going through wasn’t real enough.

  I woke as usual. By then, I couldn’t sleep past five anyway. My commanding officer barked my name. “Private Ledding,” he began. “You’re on guard duty tonight. New shipment of Jeeps just came in.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied with a salute.

  Quickly, he added, “Private Kelly, you’ll be joining him.”

  My heart began to pound furiously from within my chest.

  The rest of the day went by in a horny haze, so that when it was time to head out to the car pool, I could barely think straight. John joined me as we walked in silence. In truth, I don’t think I’d said more than a few dozen words to him the entire two months. Naturally, it was a strange feeling to be alone and so close to him, close enough to smell the wondrously musky scent he gave off. I knew his body intimately; I didn’t know him at all.

  We relieved the other two guards when we got there. It was a big, fenced-in yard, full of military cars and Jeeps. Compared to my previous duties, this one would be a piece of cake—with John as the icing. Luckily for me, he was a bit chattier when it was just the two of us. Still, I was ill at ease around him. All that jacking off to my fantasies made me edgy when I was alone with the real thing.

  Thankfully, if he noticed, he didn’t show it. In fact, he seemed to loosen up as the night progressed. Unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt, he said, “Fucking humidity. Even at night.”

  I agreed and followed suit, glancing sideways at the pile of chest hair that reflected in the moonlight. It was all I could do to not reach out and stroke it. But this, you see, was just the opening act; John had more surprises in store for me.

  “Gotta piss,” he said a short while later.

  “Latrine is in the far corner,” I informed.

  “Fuck that,” he said, walking away from our post and heading behind one of the nearby Jeeps.

  “Yeah,” I shouted after him. “Guess I’ll go, too.”

  It wasn’t a come-on; I really did have to go. Still, I chose to do it only a scant few feet away from him, figuring I might as well get my kicks while I was at it. He didn’t seem to mind, either, and already had his beautiful cock out by the time I turned the corner. In fact, he was sending a stream of piss against the Jeep’s tire before I could even whip my own dick out.

  “Aah,” he sighed into the sticky night air.

  “Ditto,” I agreed, watching him as he stared down.

  “Some life,” he added. “Three square meals and pissing the night away.” He laughed at his own joke. “Who could ask for anything more?”

  “Co-ed barracks would be nice.” I was goading him on, of course, eager to hear what he’d say to that.

  I wasn’t disappointed. He paused and laughed some more. “Yeah, nine weeks without sex. That can’t be a good thing. The pipes must get backed up.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised at that. “So, you haven’t, um, you know.” I made the universal jacking-off motion with my right hand.

  He looked up from his peeing. “Nope. Guy needs his privacy for that kind of thing. You?”

  Had we not been in the near darkness, he would’ve certainly seen the blush that ran up my neck and across my face. “Um, sure. Once or twice.” A week. To him. To his hole. To his dick.

  He didn’t reply to this, not right away. He’d stopped peeing, as did I, but both of us still had our cocks out. A silence permeated the yard, my breath lodging in my throat at his next comment. “Maybe now’s as good a time as any,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I mean, it’s kinda like we’re alone, right? More alone than I’ve been for two months, anyway.”

  He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Of course, I decided to help him along. “Sure. Anyway, what’s the big deal? Nothing wrong with a good wank, right?”

  Even in the dark, I could see those intense green eyes locking in on me, just like they had two months prior. “Nope. Natural as…breathing.”

  “And you gotta breathe.”

  The hand that had been holding his cock began to slowly move up and down on that thick slab of meat of his. “Um, but kinda weird with you just standing there like that. Couldn’t you, uh, do it, too?”

  Like music to my ears. “Sure. Beats doing it beneath the covers.” And so, I too began stroking my cock, all the while staring at his at it grew and grew. Five became six, then seven, then nine, thick as a Polish sausage. “Wow,” I said reflexively.

  “Yeah, it is kinda big,” he said, again with a laugh. He looked over at mine. “Yours too.”

  I looked down at my own rather nice-sized cock and nodded. Then I walked over to him. “Let’s see,” I said. “Let go of yours.” He did as I asked. I moved in closer and put my cock up against the side of his, almost touching it. “Nope, you still have a couple of inches on me. I’d say you’re the winner.”

  “Or is that the wiener?” he said, his voice cracking just a hair. I’d say the proximity of our two cocks was making him nervous. It sure as hell was doing a number on me.

  “But I think my head is bigger,” I said, first wrapping my palm around my own and then his. “Yep, I got you there.”

  “Mmm.” It was more like a moan than an affirmative reply. In any case, I didn’t let go of his meat. Instead, I inched my hand down his shaft. “Mmm,” he echoed.

  “Is that okay? I mean, what are friends for, right?” I asked, just to be on the safe side.

  “Friends, huh?” he replied, reaching out and tentatively grabbing my prick. I jumped in surprise but otherwise stood my ground. “By the way,” he added, still stroking my ever-widening member. “I’ve noticed you staring at me.”

  That caught me off-guard. Momentarily, I let go of his huge prick. “Um, really? That, uh, piss you off?”

  He shrugged. “Nope. I take it as a compliment. Nice looking guy like yourself, and all.” John was just full of surprises, and there were plenty more to come, so to speak.

  Seeing as all was going smoothly, I cranked it up a notch. “You were right, it is hot out here,” I said, unbuttoning my shirt and folding it neatly on the hood of the Jeep. John gladly followed suit. In the moonlight, you could see the sweat glistening off his magnificent chest. “Might as well take the pants off, too. Don’t want to get them messed up.” I sat on the ground and removed my army boots. The pants and underwear were off in a snap, leaving me in nothing but my standard-issue green socks.

  John looked around the yard and over the fence beyond. “Think it’s okay?” he asked.

  “It’s too late for anyone to come in here now. And behind this Jeep, no way anyone can see us.”

  That was all he needed to hear. A minute later, he too was naked, save for his knee-high socks. “That does feel better,” he said. “Good idea.” Again, he reached for my cock, and I for his. Neither had softened, not by a hair, in the interval.

  And so, the two of us stood there stroking each other. I could feel the warmth of his body as I moved in closer to him, deciding to go for broke. “Um, John, speaking of feeling good, mind if I try something else?”

  He looked over at me and smiled. There was a twinkle in his eye as he said, “Sure, why the fuck not?”

  Squatting down, I was a mere few inches away from that big cock of his. I looked up at him, up that ripped torso of his and right into his emerald eyes. He nodded his approval. I moved in closer, licking the tip, tasting the salty precome, and then I took the whole head in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, then down the shaft.

  “Yeah, that was a good idea,” he rasped. “Try the rest of it now.”

  I couldn’t get the entire nine inches in my mouth, try as I might, but I did take most of the length in. And so, up and down I worked his thick tool while he played with the stubble on my head and coaxed me further down. Soon, he was pumping a
t my throat, in and out, in and out, like a piston. Then he slowed down and popped it out, spit dripping down my chin as I fought for air.

  “Now these?” he asked with a playful smile. Lifting up his cock so that it nestled against those incredible abs of his, he grabbed his heavy balls and rubbed them against my lips.

  I smiled back at him and took one of the nuts in my mouth, licking it, sucking it, pulling down on it with my lips. I then alternated to the other one, repeating the motion. The guy liked his balls pulled. The harder, it seemed, the better. I gladly obliged, taking both of them in my hand, pulling down on them, hard, harder still, licking the underside with my tongue.

  It was just a stopping point, however. Naturally, I did have an ultimate destination in mind.

  I set my undershirt on the ground and lay flat upon it. “Try feeding them to me this way,” I said to him.

  He grabbed the Jeep’s door handle for support and squatted down over my face, popping the larger of his two balls in my mouth, then both of them. I sucked and pulled. He moaned, deeply. He grabbed for his cock and stroked it as my tongue made its way lower, to the sweet spot between his cheeks, which I reached up for to spread apart. Finally, I got a close-up view of that hairy, pink hole I’d been dreaming of. My tongue found it in an instant. John jumped a tad, but then settled down on my face so I could have better access to his puckered hole. I sucked at it, licked it, ferociously kissed it like it was a mouth, then, when it was good and wet, slid my tongue in, little by little.

  John bucked and ground his ass into my face as he continued stroking away. I grabbed my cock, jacked it, slapped it, pulled the wet head with my fist, all the while making out with his hot, hairy, musky ass.

  The tongue was soon replaced by a finger. John groaned, but allowed its slow, careful entry. The man was tighter than a drum, but I coaxed it in, down, back to the hilt, his prostate growing harder with each push, each quickened thrust. My tongue found his balls again, my mouth pulling down on them. I swirled them around inside my mouth as I finger-fucked his perfect asshole.