The Tool Room – Part 1

It was dicey to hit on another soldier.  My gaydar told me that I could get into Smith’s pants.  Smith was another soldier I worked with in Ft. Wainwright, Alaska.  We were both assigned to HQ CO 5/11th Artillery, 6thID.  It was fucking cold out and there wasn’t a damn thing to do at night, aside from throwing dollars at the dancers at the Flying Flea Carpet, our bases strip joint.  I wasn’t really interested in the fleas or the carpet, so I steered clear of the horny drunk soldiers being fleeced of their money.

I was supposed to be in one of the artillery batteries, I was a 13B cannon crewmember, aka Gun Bunny.  Smith was a mechanic.  I had just propositioned him after several days of making small talk to figure out how horny he was.  I normally would ask a series of questions about the prospect’s sexual experience, preference, and try to determine a Hornyness Score.  The more horned up the guy was the more likely I’d get to suck him off.  It usually culminated in either an indirect or direct proposition, depending on how stupid I thought he was.  The stupid ones got the indirect bet based propositions.  Smith was pretty smart and we’d  already established that he didn’t give a damn what sucked his cock as long as he got off.  I had told him I could get his dick sucked by someone who was really really good.  I asked him if he was interested.

It seemed like he thought about it forever.  Finally, he looked around before saying, “Sure.”  We were both nervous, horny, and excited.  He was scheduled to ETS in a couple of weeks, so this was a pretty safe proposition for me.  I had nearly been court martialed for hitting on another guy a few months ago.  Like a moth to a flame this faggot just wanted to suck some dick.  That was about all I was into in 1992.

He asked, “Where? When?”  I said, “How about now, and I know a quiet, dark, secure place.”  I continued, “Are you game now?”  He looked around again and looked down at his now growing bulge before answering, “Yea, but not here.  Not in the barracks man.”  I agreed, “Oh hell no, not in the barracks, come on.”  He smiled and I grabbed my keys.

It was medically called Plantar Fascitis, but it was my pass to wearing tennis shoes and it was why I had the keys to the tool room.  My command had been somewhat puzzled about what to do with me.  The stupid PA assigned to our unit operated on the principle of see no ill, tolerate no ill.  This basically meant if he couldn’t see it broke he didn’t believe it could hurt.  Plantar Fascitis basically meant I had high arches and this entitled me to an alternate assignment and tennis shoes.  The tennis shoes piece infuriated my CO who transferred me to HQ Battery to get rid of me.  HQ Battery didn’t know what to do with me so they stuck me in the motorpool where they were short handed.

At first this went okay, but then I caught on that some funny shit was going on with parts ordering.  When I asked about it, they stuck me in the tool room and made me the PLL clerk, responsible for our parts stock.  I promptly organized it and made sure we have every nut and bolt our mechanics needed.  I painted the floor and cleaned up all the tools.  I was really good at running the tool room.  By design, the tool room was secure, lockable, and private at night.  Being in charge of it gave me keys to the motorpool and keys to the toolroom.

Smith and I walked over to the Motorpool.  It was 10pm on a Saturday night.  The place would be quieter than a graveyard.  I didn’t really have an excuse for being here, other than maybe needing a wrench or something.  My heart was pounding as I opened the outside door.  There weren’t any cars in the parking lot, but I never knew who or what I would find in here.  The Master Sergeant, Stevens,  that ran the motorpool was a cranky old bastard from Texas.  I think he knew I was a cock sucker and he was the last person I wanted to run into.  We slipped inside the doorway and closed the door behind us.  All good so far, only the yellow “always on” lights were on.  It was dimly lit, warm, and very quiet.  Just the soft hiss of air escaping from some leak somewhere in the building.  Our facilities folks didn’t give a shit about air leaks.  Periodically the big compressor would roar to life and replenish whatever leaked out 24/7.

I looked over at Smith and we both smiled and I motioned to follow me.  I told myself the lie of why we were here as we strode across the motorpool bay.  I was glad I didn’t see anyone as it would have fucked up my chances of getting laid tonight.  When we reached the door I pulled my keys out again and opened it.  We both walked in and I quietly shut the door behind us.

As the door shut, the tool room returned to pitch black.  It was just us, two privates, standing in the dark in the tool room.  If we got caught now we would totally be busted.  My mind raced trying to figure out the next step.  Apparently so did his, and he took the easy path.  I heard his belt buckle clink as he undid it.  I quickly undid mine and dropped to my knees.  I reached over and found his cock and started to gently stroke it.  No resistance.  I had one hand on his cock and one hand on mine.  I was rock hard and dripping.  Neither of us said a word.  He was hard, but not precumming.

I stroked him a few times and then gently put my lips around the head of his cock.  My mouth was wet, anticipating feeling his manhood inside me.  All I was thinking about right now was servicing him completely.  I pursed my lips and pressed against the head of his cock.  He was slightly below average, nothing to tell a story about honestly.  5 inches long, skinny, below average as cocks go.  I had no idea at the time and was super excited by the chance to bob his knob.  I had sucking cock down to a routine by now.  I would push in a little bit, pause, pull back to the tip, push in a little further, and repeat.  It was working like a charm on Smith.  I finally worked my way to the base of his cock and just paused there.  His shaft was all the way in my mouth, rubbing the back of my throat.  I was trying to keep it off my teeth.  His pubic hair was in my face, surrounding my nose.  As I inhaled I took in the musk of his manhood.  Hmm, delicious I thought.

Before I could pull back a little and continue sucking him he pulled back a little and then thrust in.  He was fucking my face.  Oh, I loved this.  He was gentle at first and then picked up pace after a few pumps.  I was stroking at the same time he was pumping.  He moaned softly and then said, “I’m about to cum!”  I doubled down on his dick and before he could pull out his cock pulsed and shot a creamy load of seed into my mouth.  It tasted pretty good.  Slightly sweet and that distinctive cum taste.  At the same time I shot my load on the floor, between his boots.

He pulled his cock out of my mouth and remarked, “Damn that was good.”  Before either of us could move I heard the distinctive sound of keys being put in the lock.