In the spring of 1968, I was in the Army, stationed at Fort Gordon, Georgia, going through Radio Teletype School. I was down to the final couple of weeks of training, and I'd sent my young (18-year-old) wife back to her parents in Texas. I'd already gotten orders for Vietnam, and we knew that once my training was finished, I'd be headed home for a couple of weeks leave before I shipped overseas.

During training I rented a miserable little trailer in a mobile home park not far from the Fort. In those days, single men were forced to live in the barracks, but married troops had permission to live off-base. I'd paid the rent up until the end of my school cycle, so I kept the trailer after she left, even though I was technically supposed to move back onto base.

Once my wife was gone, I started seriously looking for cock. I'd been with a number of men in my teens, and even though I loved women in general and my wife in particular, the old urges had returned. I'd minded my "P's and Q's" since marrying and joining the army, but I'd been fantasizing about men for months.

There were a couple of dirty bookstores and coffee shops in downtown Augusta, and I knew that the local gays cruised them looking for Army dick. I decided to return the favor. One Friday night after training, I cruised a bookstore until I noticed a tall, plain looking guy who appeared to be about 30. He had thick glasses, mousy brown thinning hair and a wispy moustache, but a nice smile. We exchanged friendly glances, and as he stood next to me I watched his eyes move from the pictures on the pages of the gay magazine I was leafing through to my swelling crotch. I gave him a last knowing glance, and then put my book on the rack and walked outside into the hot Georgia night. He followed me to the street corner, where we stood waiting for the light to change. "Hi," he said, "my name is Tom." "I'm John," I answered. We crossed the street and walked together along the sidewalk, passing bars and convenience stores and 'head shops,' weaving amongst soldiers on the make and hookers hoping to cash in. We made the sort of nervous smalltalk people make when trying to decide whether to make a move. We talked about Augusta, the Army, and my home town of Austin; everything except the topic we both wanted most to consider.

Eventually we made it to the dimly lit parking lot where I'd left my car. "Climb in," I said. "We can listen to the radio and talk awhile." My six-foot frame barely fit in the front seat of my Falcon, and Tom was a couple of inches taller than me, so we slid the seat back as far as it would go. We rolled the windows down to let in a slight breeze, and tuned the radio to a rock station. We talked for a while longer, and then Tom finally made his move. When he put his hand tentatively on my right leg, I welcomed it by spreading my legs wider. I sucked in my stomach as he unzipped my tight jeans and worked my stiff cock out of my white jockeys. He moaned slightly when he saw it--I have a nice, average size uncock dick. I leaned back and closed my eyes as he bent down to kiss the head of my cock. He nuzzled my black crotch hair and swirled his tongue around my bulging balls. The he sucked me, slowly and deliberately. He had a very good mouth. My wife was an enthusiastic, but mediocre cock-sucker, and I missed the deep, rich, firm pull of a man's mouth on my dick. After a bit, I felt the urge to reciprocate. As Tom sucked me, I reached into his lap and felt his groin. His large cock strained against the fabric of his khakis. I fiddled with his zipper, but it was difficult to do with one hand, so Tom stopped working on me and leaned back himself. I fought with his fly until a large, thick purple cock emerged from the fabric.

Tom's dick was at least eight inches long--standing there in his lap, it seemed to reach almost to his chest. I lowered my head, grabbed his shaft with both hands and immediately started sucking the thick mushroom head. I hadn't had a cock in my mouth since before I'd come into the army, and I was hungry for it, even though I could barely get half of his into my mouth. I still remember the slickness of the shaft, the thick veins that climbed it, and the fold of crinkled skin beneath the thick head--I savored the mustiness of his pubic hair and the sweat forming on his belly. I sucked so enthusiastically that it took just a couple of minutes of heavy slurping before he put his hands on my head to stop me. "I'd really like this to last a while," he said. "Do you have a place we can go?" "I do," I said. We stuffed our cocks back into our pants and drove to my trailer.

It was better in the trailer. I put some albums on the stereo, turned the lights down and sat next to him on our small couch. As we took each other's clothes off, Tom told me he I'd surprised him. He said he was accustomed to servicing GI's in the bookstore parking lot and getting nothing in return. He told me I was so masculine-looking that he was stunned when I went down on him. I was good looking at the time--about six feet tall, short black hair and green eyes. I was just a couple of months out of basic training and had a trim body firmed by thousands of pushups and hundreds of miles of running.

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