Hal (MM Nude)
Mason looked up from his laptop. "How cum we gotta wait for thursday?" Patiently took a deep breath, and shook his head.
"We don't have enough volunteers, and I have a job. Mondays, and thursdays are my days off." He picked up the cooking timer, and checked it, ignoring the big man. Beligerent, and stinking of booze.
"I volunteer, then."
Mason, just looked up, and shook his head. Took a deep breath, and the fat man swayed a little on his heels. He could throw him out just for being drunk, but a lot of guys underestimate him. If they haven't seen him eating over at the Vets table, make that Master Sergent (Ret.) Mason, MPI. Not just a Military Cop, an investigator. The civilian equivalent would be the Police Cheif for the whole base, instead of a sherrif.
He's also a little guy, with long sleeves you'd have to see rolled up to notice the steel cables playing under the skin, or just wait for him to handle someone like this.
"Huh!" He took a deep breath, "You don't know the plumbing in this building. If you want to volunteer," he looked up and down, doubtfully, and shook his head, "Then there's a sign-up sheet in the dining hall."
I stuffed my socks in my boots, and dropped my sandals on the floor to wiggle my toes in, but I didn't get up. Offer to help him, I just braced myself for the show, but then Tivis came out. Pulling the cut-off leg from a pair of biker shorts on over his damp braids, and dropping his towel over by the table. Pulling out some shorts to step into, and pull up.
Ratty red, and black checked boxer shorts, like the Massai. I guess, or Bloods, I don't know him that well.
"Hal." Mason wound the spring back. 5 minutes. "You're up."
I grabbed a towel, and Tivis stopped by the table for a fresh pair of socks. From a bushel box, with pictures of green pairs on it, and the name of the farm. He didn't offer to help with the drunk either, just looked at him so he got scared, and backed off.
Hal's here to prevent fights, not toss drunks. He's not a bouncer, but honestly, you couldn't find someone better to do his job. More patient, understanding, and capable, even if they could figure out the water heater, and adjust the temp in the showers, by ball valves in the pipes.
The bench was free, so I dropped trow, and sat down to kick my pants off. Wiggled my toes back in the crocs, yeah they look stupid, and they're this nasty cartoon hot-pink, but you want trench-foot? Because that's how you get trench-foot, this is a homeless shelter, and the building is old. The tiles are loose, and the grout crumbling to this grey mildewed powder in between them.
Finally, the handicap stall door slapped open, and a guy came out. A new guy, I hadn't even seen before, but I wouldn't have made it in the service if I had a problem with showering around naked men. "Huh?"
Tall, and skinny, that left his crotch right at eye level, and I stopped looking up just long enough to notice his cock.
I shook my head, and he smiled. Leaned down to grab a towel from the stack next to me, and stepped aside. He looked back, checking out my back, and rear end, but I did too?
What's up with that? I can't say I never looked at a guy's cock before, but that pause at the stall door. I looked back, and checked him out? Then, I realized the timer started when I left the table, but I was in the army. I got a quick scrub down, lather up, and rinse with time to spare. In the dining hall, I could take my time, to enjoy the best food you can find in a soup kitchen, but today, it's in, and out. Quick, there's a line waiting, and if we're lucky, everyone might get their turn today.
I never looked at a guy, and though. Hm, that's a good looking dick? All right, first of all, he was clean-shaven, and I'm not just talking about his face. He left a little line of blond curls around his navel, and his pale pink nipples, but his crotch.
Even after I dried off, and went out. He was gone, but I found myself looking around, expecting to see him, and disappointed that I didn't get another pretty smile? How long has it been? When you get to my age, and living on the streets, there's always something more important. I used to be satisfied with some pussy every other month, whenever I got out, and returned to the civilian life, even if I had to pay for it, but then again.
I've never had a guy check me out, and smile like that, I'm flattered, but climbing out of the basement, the fat drunk is there. Squatting, and pulling butts apart with his filthy nails, and pinching the tobacco out into a piece of newspaper. Trench fags.
"Uh," Just what what's his name. I forget, that brit called them that. He just reminded me of leftennant Thomas, he said "All that, and a packet of crisps."
"Beg pardon?"
The drunk tried to get up, and if it wasn't for the wall to catch him, he would have fallen over.
"Never mind." Next, I went around to the cart corral, tied the handles on my grocery bag, and stuffed it in the top of my duffel. I was poking the loop through the grommets, and about to clip it shut, when he came up behind me.
"Hey." Deep voice, so deep that when I turned around, I was surprised to look up, and see the face it had come out of. A pretty face, and I don't mean like a pretty-boy model, I mean god he's gorgeous, and I feel like a schoolgirl, or I imagine what a freshman girl must feel like, when a senior comes up to her locker, and asks her out to the dance?
I shook my head, and tried to think of something to say.
"Can I get around you?" he pointed behind my wheel barrow. I guess, it's a garden cart somebody left out at the curb, with the OSB panels rotted out, and gray. Mildewed, and fuzzy with soft splinters, but it's not hard to find boards, if you know where to look. "Thanks." He pulled out a box dolly, and turned it around. Squatted to lay it out, and pull bungies to unzip it, and start moving things around in there. Making room for his dirty laundry, and his clean clothes, neatly rolled up in outfits from the shirt cotton sticking out the sides of the blue jeans denim.
"Huh!" A deep sigh, from his deep voice, and I'm not even trying to deny it any longer. It's a sexy voice, at least to me, and the chubby I'd been sporting ever since I stepped into the shower. Saw what must be his pubic hairs dusted around the rim of the toilet. He left the seat up, and I guess flushed the rest down, but he just shaved his pubes, his balls, and I imagined a ruff of curls around the top, even though that was gone too. If it was ever there to begin with. He didn't even look back, "You just going to stand there, or you want to give me a hand with this?"
"Sure," I jumped at the chance, to break the ice, but he stepped back, and stuck his foot under the wheel while I picked up the end. With a grunt, "Huh, heavy."
"Yeah," he looked up from my arms, I think. My biceps, but I don't have to do calesthetics to stay in shape. I do plenty of hiking, and climbing around, just from my day-to-day. All the best camps, and stash spots are up high, the best security is either finding somewhere nobody else will look, or haul it up where it's too much trouble to steal, for the ratty dirty homeless possessions you'd get out of it.
He scratched his head. "I tried putting my tools down by the bottom, but then when I need them, I wind up unstrapping everything, so I'm trying them up on the top, but that makes it a pain to pick up when it's layed out flat, and;" He shook his head.
"Well, why don't you strap them to the other side?" He looked, turned around, and stepped back in the corner to look at the axle. "Huh!" He shook his head, and took a deep breath. My eyes actually fluttered a little when he let out a sigh, with a smile at me, and nodded.
"I didn't think of it?" But it turned out the axle was encased in a pipe, welded between the braces of the heavy duty box dolly, it was actually over-engineered. If you tried to pick up an engine block, the blade out front would bend before the braces, or axle snapped. That kind of heavy duty box dolly, with solid core tires.
So, long story short, he unstrapped the tool-bag, and tin toolbox, so I could lower them down, and hold them over the back. The tool box just rested on the axle, no problem, but then the bag wanted to roll off the octagonal top, and the handle until he squatted down, and secured it with bungees clipped to the frame, and the axle housing.
I let go, and went back to my wheel barrow. "Here," I got out a cargo strap, I'd fished out from behind an auto-parts store. Looks like whoever cut the box open hacked at it with a machete', instead of a box-cutter, but it went through the plastic clamshell, and even nicked the side of one of the heavy duty straps. Just enough to throw out the whole 4 pack, but I had all the hooks, buckles, and ratchets from the set. "Now try it." I squatted down, and kept my eyes front.
Learned that quick, in basic. I never had to concentrate on securing cargo, to avoid a man's crotch, right next to me. Standing there, and holding his life up while I looped, and crossed the straps. Cranked the ratchet tight, then tugged on the tool bag to test it. "That otta hold you." I straightened up, and finally gave in. The swelling in my pants went from uncomfortable to twisted painfully from squatting down, and standing back up, so I just adjusted it, right in front of him.
He looked down at me. My face, and his smile widened to a grin. He looked around, and lowered his voice to a whisper. Leaning in, so my heart beat out of control, and I expected him to kiss me, so I closed by eyes, but even over the blood thudding in my ears, I could hear his deep sultry voice.
'don't ask, don't tell, eh?'
I could smell his shampoo, on his damp pale hair, but I actually but my lip. Like a teenage girl, I never wanted to feel so feminine, and receptive to a man's seductive charm, beautiful, not handsome, but more than just pretty. Lovelier than most Women, and somehow it had this affect on me, but I liked it. No, I loved the way he made me feel, blushing, and nodding shyly.
I had no idea that I could be a bottom? "Huh, come on. Let's go see if there's any fresh coffee."
;
Loadmaster (MM Roma/Date)
I never flirted with a guy before, but I found it was easy, and the fact that he acted so Masculine really helped a lot. It turns out that the urns were still making a fresh pot, so he waited for that, while I tapped the old one. I nodded, "Army, does it show?"
He chuckled, giving me a little thrill from making him laugh. "You don't exactly hide it." Standing there in khaki cargo pants, with the legs bloused in the tops of my boots, and army brown tee shirt. The shaved sides of my high top fade, and neatly trimmed mustache, I know how I look. It's a good look on me, and I found that out in high school, from girls.
I guess I just picked my words, carefully. Made sure that the innuendos, and double entendre' were all subtle. Talking about being a Loadmaster, securing packages on the back of a deuce, and a half, or on the flight line to get loaded into the back of a cargo plane. That was another guy's job, once you got it in the back door.
I just can't seem to tear my eyes away from his, unless he smiles. Green eyes, with blond eyebrows, and long curly hair he combed out. He batted his eyelashes.
I blinked, and shook my head, then picked up my cup when he hid his beautiful smile and blow steam off his coffee. "Mh," he took a sip. Made a face, and swallowed with a wince. "It's not as bad when it's fresh, but you're used to Army coffee, I'm sure." As if it was spiked with vodka, instead of just fresh generic coffee, brewed a can at a time in batches so one of the tubs is always full.
"Begger's choice. Only the finest gutter water, and filtered through the sweatiest socks." I held up the foam cup for him to tap, rim to rim, with a sincere laugh. I leaned over, seriously, and lowered my voice. 'huh, is this like a date?'
"I don't know?' He shook his head, "Honestly, I." He looked around, and Betty walked by. Church lady Betty, fussing around in an apron, with a spritz bottle of bleach water, and a rag, sterilizing every surface as soon as it has a chance to dry. "I think we better get out of here. Which shelter you stayin' at?"
"I have a camp site, but if you promise not to ell anyone." I looked around, like it was a big secret. Then, I shook my head, and downed my cup at the trashcan. He rolled his eyes, and held out his cup for me, so I drank it. Sugar, non-dairy creamer, and all. We climbed out to the other basement, and I checked the clock on the landing. Still a few hours before lining up for dinner, they barely even started which is why old lady Betty got bored, and went out to wipe everything down again.
"Yeah," as soon as we're back out in the court yard, "I'd like that."
"I'm not, gay. I, uh." Shook my head, "I don't know how to say this, but. Huh! There's something about you, I don't know what it is, but. I've never." Felt this way before? "Jesus, it's such a cliche."
"Relax," I got another thrill when he just touched my arm, and turned around for a kiss that never came, but it's almost scary how I'm acting. Like a girl, gay guys don't act like this, do that? Like a schoolgirl with a crush?
I could almost imagine a cute cheerleader outfit, and a rucksack, with a stack of homework, "What's happening to me?"
"I'm sure I don't know, ha? It's happened to me before, I guess I have that effect on straight guys."
"You're really an exceptional beauty."
"Huh!" He sighed, and look a deep breath. "I know," raised his voice to a lilt, and even held his hand up to his head. "It's the curse I have to bear."
I laughed with him, it was a good laugh, and really broke the awkwardness of the moment, but I hugged him, back in the other amongst the shopping carts. How romantic, huh?
But that's where he kissed me, for the very first time.
It was wonderful.
;