Needing His Touch: First Time Gay Encounters Hot Gay s*x

It was a Friday night and the military barracks were almost deserted. That was not unusual as the entire base operated with a skeleton crew on Friday nights. Most of the recruits in the current class were in town blowing off steam at local watering holes after a grueling week of physical and mental challenges. Their bodies ached after being pushed to the limit by "take no prisoners" type Drill Instructors. They found comfort in the bottles of booze and in the arms of babes, both of which were easily available in town. Recruit Jenkins was not out rabble rousing off-base with his friends on this particular Friday evening. He had earned demerits during the week for the sloppy way he had made his bed in haste one morning when he overslept by a couple of minutes. He thought the Drill Instructor was unfairly singling him out during inspection, but he dared not say anything. Complaining would simply result in additional demerits. It would also bring a barrage of ridicule and insults from the Drill Instructor. Jenkins had been told to stay behind in the otherwise empty barracks and wait for the DI who would determine his punishment. Sitting alone on his bed, he was feeling a familiar stirring in his pants as he eyed his fellow grunts' footlockers. What if one of them had left a dirty sock in there? He could sniff it while he reached in his camo pants and pleasured himself. He would do so while he pictured all the well-muscled and lean military flesh he got to enjoy gawking at in the showers on a daily basis. What if the Drill Instructor walked in and caught him m**********g on the bed with a fellow G.I.’s ripe sock stuffed in his mouth? s**t, that would probably be the end of his military career. His internal debate was interrupted when the door suddenly opened and the hulking Drill Instructor appeared in the doorway. Jenkins jumped up from the bed and stiffened his body like a rod. His hand swung up to his forehead to give the officer the proper salute. "At ease, soldier," his Drill Instructor said. Jenkins was relieved he didn’t say, "As you were," because that would mean his direct order would have been to go back to thinking about jacking off while smelling a fellow soldier’s foot stink on an old sock! Apparently, Jenkins’ mind did wander a bit because the next thing he knew, the DI was towering over him with his arms folded. "Recruit Jenkins, do you understand?" he barked. Jenkins didn’t know how to answer since his foot fondling fantasizing had forced him to miss the question. "Not sure," came the feeble reply as he fingered his dog tag nervously. "Not sure, what, boy?" "Not sure, Sir." The DI circled the recruit. He inspected him, looking for the slightest weakness or imperfection in the recruit’s appearance. The recruit stood by the bunk in his standard issue green T-shirt and camouflage pants. Though tall and in shape himself, he still looked inadequate when compared to his superior. The DI was a full six foot, three inches, two hundred thirty-five pounds of heavily muscled impatience. I don’t know how these recruits ever become soldiers, the DI thought to himself. They volunteer for this experience thinking it’s going to be a breeze, never once giving a thought to the discipline involved, he concluded. "Let’s go over this again, Jenkins," the Drill Instructor said. The recruit’s eyes darted back and forth, watching the military officer fearfully. "There are only two acceptable responses. When asked if you’ve had enough, the correct answer is, ‘Sir, no, SIR!’" Recruit Jenkins gulped as the DI got right in his face and stared at his high and tight, the military name for his sharp haircut that included almost shaved sides and a patch of fuller hair along the top. "And when asked if you want some more, the correct answer is, ‘Sir, yes, SIR!’" He paused a moment to allow his young charge to comprehend the full meaning of these instructions. His deep, unbending voice then boomed out, "Recruit, do you understand now?" "Sir, yes, Sir," Jenkins replied firmly. "Drop and give me thirty," the DI commanded. Jenkins immediately dove to the floor and began the flawlessly executed push-ups. His body seemed to float off the floor each time as a result of his massive biceps, which propelled him effortlessly with each repetition. After the first ten, the Drill Instructor lifted his powerful leg and placed his boot down calmly on the recruit’s back. He let his leg bounce up and down a couple times before applying any pressure. Then, he casually leaned forward and forced the recruit to work harder and harder to complete the push-ups. Without a word of complaint, the recruit continued. However, he groaned and grimaced against the strain. The veins in his biceps showed as the blood desperately fed his muscles the energy they needed. "Have you had enough, boy?" "Sir, no Sir," the recruit managed to gasp out between breaths. "Good, very good," the DI said as he released the pressure. He would have smiled, except it was against the rules of engagement for a DI to smile in the presence of a mere grunt. "On your feet!" The recruit began to stand. "On second thought, I want you on my feet," the DI told him. The recruit gave him a puzzled look and made no movement. The DI suddenly and swiftly punched the unsuspecting recruit so hard in the stomach that he fell to his knees. He wheezed several times, trying to recover from the shock and catch his breath. "Have you had enough yet, boy?" "Sir, no, Sir" came the barely audible reply. "I can’t hear you. Louder." "Sir, no, Sir," the recruit managed a little more volume, but still stayed on all fours on the floor. "See those boots? Worship them," the DI demanded. "Sir?" was all the recruit said. "Worship my f*****g boots, you little b***h," the DI said while slapping the recruit’s face down towards his military issue footwear. The recruit began to slowly lick the outside of his superior officer’s combat boots. They had been cleaned earlier that morning, but now there was a fine coating of dust and some spattered mud on them from the day’s exercises. Jenkins worked his way around the boots, touching the material and enjoying the way it felt beneath his fingers. When he got to the tongue and the laces, he dug his face into the leather, hoping that an opening in the area would give him the slightest whiff of the DI’s sweaty military man feet. He was disappointed to learn that those tight laces managed to keep any possible smells safely inside and away from his nostrils. The DI seemed pleased with the recruit’s eagerness. "You want some more of these man feet?" the DI asked him. "Sir, yes, Sir," the recruit replied. The DI swatted Jenkins away from his boots and reached down to untie the laces himself. Jenkins could only salivate while the Drill Instructor teased him by slowly kicking off each boot and revealing the pale green military socks that could not be seen before. The Drill Instructor wiggled his toes around inside his socks as he circled Jenkins. He liked the feeling of freedom it provided to move around without his boots on. Now laying on the floor at eye level with the DI’s socked feet, the recruit wanted to so badly to touch, feel, admire, and enjoy those socks in every way possible. However, he dared not move until his superior allowed it. The DI looked down at him and laughed knowingly because he realized what torture he could impose by merely forcing Jenkins to wait to get his hands, tongue, and nose on his military issue stockings. He watched Jenkins eyes follow his toes as he walked around a bit more. Jenkins stomach was tied up in knots of anticipation as he watched the DI’s feet flop up and down on the floor. Every time the Drill Instructor lifted a foot, Jenkin’s breath stopped for a split second as he hoped the foot would land closer to his face than it had been before it was raised. Finally, the DI stood right over Jenkins' face and shoved his left foot into his nose. Even though he almost choked on the overwhelming smell, Jenkins couldn’t get enough of it. The softness of the socks felt good against his clean shaven face. As the DI moved his foot around, Jenkins also felt spots of wetness where the DI’s feet were sweating under the material. Because the DI was standing over him facing his head, Jenkins knew the DI wouldn’t be able to see the action he planned next. Jenkins grabbed his own crotch and rubbed it through his camouflage pants. He moaned with pleasure as the DI slapped his face around using his foot as a weapon. Without warning, the Drill Instructor commanded, "Recruit Jenkins, take these socks off, boy. My feet need attention."