Sergeant Bull : Part 12

“Fuckin’ tell me about it,” the other man sighed. “You know you’re getting old when details of your last decent blowjob get mixed up somewhere between your first driver’s license and senior prom.”

“I didn’t know you graduated,” Bull said coolly, a mean smirk on his face.

“Fuck you, asshole,” Inky retorted. Bull pulled on his socks. Jeans followed, and finally the comfortable white T-shirt that hugged his chest and arms in all the right places. Like Inky, he grabbed an old pair of expensive black sneakers from the closet.

“Seriously, bro,” Inky continued. “I envy you, having the freedom to just up and leave and have some wild fuckin’ sex along the way.”

Bull sucked in a deep breath of the clean-smelling, freshly showered air around him and focused on the other man. Their eyes met in a bottled glimpse, the same look Bull saw a month earlier when they’d jacked their cocks together in the woods of Georgia. Like positives and negatives colliding, their gaze held an instant longer. Bull eventually broke contact and turned away. “It wasn’t all fun, dude. The sex was, but sometimes it came with a price.”

“What price?” Inky sputtered. “Some of them ask you to buy rings?”

Bull froze at the bedroom door. He didn’t answer right away, and knew his silence betrayed him. “Hey, we’re here to do guy stuff,” he eventually said. “Not act like two chicks crying over marriage.”

One month had passed, enough time for a thin coat of dust to settle over the chrome and black metal case of Bull’s Harley. For ten months, the hog had barely sat idle. Now, it hadn’t moved in weeks. The garage door opened, dispelling the final trace of the morning shadows. Bull and Inky strutted in.

“There it is!” Inky exclaimed. “The pussy magnet!”

“Yep,” Bull said, a bittersweet smile on his face. “I kinda miss it, but hell -” He sent a thumb toward his new sports truck parked next to Inky’s in the driveway.

“Not the same,” Inky continued. He placed both hands on the cool leather seat and rubbed it for good luck. “Now, maybe some of your studliness will pass on to me. Maybe I’ll get that blowjob I been dreaming about since my wedding day.”

Bull chuckled and crossed to the dusty shelves behind his workbench. He picked through the tools until pulling out a beat-up, old football. “You game?” Inky nodded. “Hell yeah!”

Deep grunts of male laughter filled the sunny, private backyard. For a brief time, Bull had no worries or cares. “Go long!” he shouted. Digging in, he spun, snapped the ball in a play that matched the best any number of pro quarterbacks would make that day, then charged the intervening forty-odd feet after the man who caught it. Inky dodged Bull’s advance, fell back, and broke for another few yards before a rough tackle sent them both to the grass. The impact pressed Bull’s face into the mossy cleanness of Inky’s right armpit.Dropping the football, Inky flipped him onto his back. “You suck!” the other Army sergeant grunted.

“You wish,” Bull fired back. He bucked underneath Inky’s mass of hard muscles. To his shock, one in particular pressed firmly against him. What the fuck? Inky’s got a boner! Bull realized. That knowledge – mixed with the smell of the good, clean sweat of their play – drained all the moisture from his mouth and sent itchy pinpricks surging through his own tool. Inky shifted, an action that rubbed Bull’s cock even harder.

Bull glanced up into Inky Calhoun’s dark blue eyes, and again, something passed between them. Just as he readied to say something, the other man looked guiltily away and rolled off. A cool void replaced the pressing warmth over Bull’s crotch.

“Come on, dude. You’ve got possession. Hustle – hustle!”

Dazed and half-stiff, Bull jumped to his feet and readied for the snap. The boundaries of their friendship restored, Inky executed a perfect toss. Bull jumped, caught it, and when he landed on both feet, the other man charged him.

“Hooah!” Inky bellowed.

Bull tucked the football under one arm and took off for the end zone, a pile of leaves he’d raked only the day before in anticipation of the backyard barbecue to accompany the big football game. Racing around the picnic table and dodging Inky at the gas grill, he made a dive for the leaf pile. Inky pushed it up a notch. Both men landed in a cushion of crisp autumn leaves.

“Touchdown!” Bull shouted. “Yeah!”

“No fuckin’ way,” Inky countered. “You crossed outside the lines. Ten yard penalty!”

Bull gave Inky a good-natured shove. “I won. Admit it.”

“You won jack, dude,” Inky chuckled. He pushed back, and soon both men were again struggling. It took a few moves, but Bull eventually flipped Inky onto his back and pinned him underneath.

“Give,” Bull demanded.

“Nuh-uh!” Inky spat. He pushed up. Bull braced his quads and ground his hips down. It wasn’t unintentional at first, but again he felt the caged heat between Inky’s legs stab into his crotch. With fresh, clean sweat dripping off his face to spatter across the other sergeant’s cheek, Bull’s eyes met Inky’s, and this time, neither man broke away. “I been thinking-”

“Shouldn’t do that too often unless you’re used to it,” Bull huffed.

The joke fell on deaf ears. “About that weekend, what happened – you know, you and me, up in the woods. Fuck, Bull, it felt so good.”

Bull drew in a deep breath and nodded, unaware he’d unintentionally ground his cock into Inky’s bulge until a burst of electricity shuddered through his body. He tried to swallow, only to nearly choke on the dryness in his mouth. “Yeah,” he sighed.

Inky half-closed his eyes and rubbed against Bull’s boner with his own. Looking down, Bull noticed a tiny circle of wetness stained the bulging crown in Inky’s pants. “I think about how good that was,” the other man whispered. “The best I had in a long time.”

“That’s sad, dude,” Bull answered. “You and me and an old-fashioned circle jerk being the apex of your sex life.”

“Real sad,” Inky said. His tone was serious, verging on desperate. “Bull-”

Before Inky could finish the statement, Bull rolled off him into the leaves. The movement put them side by side, both on their backs. “Inky, we been friends a long time.”

“I know.”

Bull sensed the other man’s deep blue eyes upon him, but couldn’t face him directly. “There’s something I want to tell you, but it could end up costing us that friendship.”

Inky sighed out a comforting, “No fuckin’ way. We’re tight, you and me. Shit, dude, what we been through, nothing’s gonna make me think any less of you.”

Bull tipped his gaze in Inky’s direction. The circle of precome coating his package glistened brighter. “I lied to you, Inky. Lied about all those women I fucked on my swing out to San Diego. Truth was, I didn’t fuck one chick out there. Not one.”

Inky’s deep blue eyes widened. “You mean all that head you got, all that pretty pink pussy – it was all bullshit?”

Bull hesitated. Eventually, he admitted, “No, I fucked more face and tail than I can count. But – dude – it wasn’t with:women.”

A dumb look swept over Inky’s square jaw. “Whoa-!” he groaned. As the reality of Bull’s confession sank in, Inky moved up to his elbows, and from there, to a cross-legged position in the leaves. Twigs and pine needles sticking from his clothes and close-cropped hair, he said, “You saying, like you fucked around with:dudes?”

Bull sat up. “I told you the truth was gonna end it for us.”

Inky’s handsome face suddenly hardened. “You and other dudes. Shit, I never would’a guessed.”

A temporary silence settled over the leaf pile. Bull felt his heart race. The cadence rang in his ears. “Well, say something,” he huffed.

Inky shook his head and snaked a hand down between his legs. “What do you want me to say? How pissed-off I am?” Squeezing his package, he turned to Bull. A shit-eating grin cracked his harsh expression. “Pissed-off that you didn’t offer me some of what you been getting when you know how bad I need it!”

They staggered into the house, nearly tripping over their own feet on the way in. Once the door was shut, Inky grabbed Bull and tackled him onto the couch. The other man’s mouth, warm and sour, smashed into Bull’s, heavy with a masculine taste. Bull kissed hard and deep before breaking the seal. “The bedroom, buddy-” he huffed around Inky’s lips.

Inky nodded and kicked off his sneakers. The other Army sergeant’s T-shirt followed, and soon they’d left a trail of clothes and leaves from the living room to the bed. Bull yanked off his jeans. The action left him standing only in his socks, boxer-briefs, and dog tags. Inky fell on top of him with his pants around his ankles. They landed on the bed in a tangle of arms. “Do it, buddy,” Inky begged. “Suck on my fuckin’ cock!”

Bull moved over his buddy’s chest, sliding a hand down the taught, muscled ridge of the other man’s abs and happy trail into the musty-smelling patch of coarse hair poking from the elastic band of his underwear. “You’re sure?” he asked, groping Inky’s package. One feel of the sticky, pulsing column in the other man’s shorts was all it took to convince Bull he was.

“Yeah,” Inky growled. “Gobble that prick before I blow my load!” B

ull smiled and tugged down Inky’s briefs. The other man’s cock snapped back, striking his stomach with a loud slap. Two fat, hairy sacs of come-filled balls slipped free, smelly with the musk of their touch-football game. Bull tucked the elastic of Inky’s underwear beneath his nuts and leaned in, brushing his tongue across the sensitive skin along his buddy’s cockhead. Inky tensed beneath him and grunted out a half-legible swear. “Aw, fuck-!”

“Like that?” “Fuck, yeah!”

“This’ll feel even better.”

Gripping Inky’s cock by its furry root, he sucked the head and a few inches more into his mouth. Each gulp went accompanied by a firm stroke upward, then an open-mouthed plunge down until Bull’s chin scraped Inky’s nuts and his nose vanished into coarse bush. Inky writhed beneath him as Bull let loose, sucking harder and faster. The salty, pungent taste of precome ignited across Bull’s tongue.

“I don’t fuckin’ believe this,” Inky moaned. “Don’t believe it feels so awesome!”

Smiling up at his Army buddy, Bull spit Inky’s cock out of his mouth and dove deeper. He licked each sweaty nut until the other man’s ball-bag glistened. Once that was accomplished, he sucked each nut, one at a time. “Roll over,” he commanded, continuing to pump Inky’s dong.