Army Dogs
"It may be a while before 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' is repealed, but we can still love each other, right?" asked Sgt. Lance Reynolds of the Army's 10th Mountain Division to Private First Class Steve Robbins. Both sat, in uniform on Robbins' bed, looking down at the floor. Their secret relationship weighed heavily on them. The risk of discovery was great, and the consequences would result in a humiliating discharge from the military. But was their love strong enough to persist without interruption?
"We were drinking that night," said Lance, who was narrating the scene when their relationship fist blossomed. One night, after days of intense combat operations overseas, the two males -- who became friends during their first tour of duty -- spent some time at their temporary barracks, drinking lots of hard liquor. After drinking with the rest of the guys in their unit, Lance and Steve stumbled into the sargeant's living quarters.
Once inside the temporary housing bungalow, Lance flipped the light switch, which turned on the overhead lights and started the ceiling fan. Once he saw the overhead light brighten his small, messy living space, the german shephard lifted up his shirt and tossed it into a large pile of clothes beside his bed. Beside his bed was an end table that had a small CD/MP3 player with two subwoofers on both sides. He turned on the player, and Black Sabbath's "Iron Man" came on. Lance felt energized by the song. He jerked his head up and down and pretended to play the guitar when the opening lead track was heard. Meanwhile, Steve sat on Lance's bed, watching the shephard dance to the music.
The white wolf cocked his head back, rubbed his sweaty headfur back behind his ears and chuckled. "Look at you, dude," said Steve. "Look at you go." Lance's hairy gut jiggled to the music -- and the sight of it amused Steve. "Good Lord, your fat ass can sure move."
"Damn fuckin' right it can move," Lance acknowledged. He pounded his shirtless chest with his paw and barked loudly. "This shit gets my blood boilin', you know? I listen to Sabbath, go out there on the field with my M16, like, 'Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat,' and I fill up all the targets with lots of lead."
Steve takes out a cigarette and a Zippo lighter from his pocket and smokes. After he lit up his cigarette, he put the lighter back and nodded. "Nothing beats the power of rock 'n roll, man. Nothing."
Lance walked over to Steve and grabbed the cigarette out of the wolf's lips. "The Hell are you doing, private? You can't smoke that shit in here." Then he chuckled, took a drag from the same cigarette and gave it back to Steve. "Nah, I'm foolin' with ya." Lance blew out the smoke and continued flailing around the room with his tail wagging happily.
"You better be foolin' or I'd kick your ass."
"Is that so, huh?" Lance got into a boxer fighting stance with his arms up in front of his muzzle. He made a few quick jabs before stumbling forward and nearly crashing into a nearby wall.
"Whoa there. Don't want to knock yourself out."
"Sting like a butterfly... and float like a bee..." Lance turned around to face Steve. Suddenly, the shephard's body collapsed on top of the unsuspecting wolf. Steve tried pushing him off, but the drunken german shephard thought the resistance was an open invitation for some playful wrestling. Lance grabbed onto Steve and pushed him to the floor.
Steve muttered, "What the fuck is going on?" but his voice was muffled by all the noise that was made by the two males on the floor. Steve tried to resist, but the shephard kept pinning him down on the floor. At one point, both soldiers began to pant as they lost themselves in the wrestling. They were heavily intoxicated, and nothing really mattered except for having a good time. Wrestling on the floor became an acquired taste for Steve -- and once he was enjoyed the mindless grappling, there was no indication when they would stop.
Lance tossed Steve around. At one point, the german shephard's crotch rubbed up against the wolf's. Steve looked the dominating sargeant's eyes and grinned. With all the strength he could muster, Steve pushed Lance's bare chest and managed to get the shephard to fall backwards. Once Lance landed on his back, Steve grabbed the shephard's legs and moved them up toward his muzzle. Lance was in an awkward position with his bulbous groin placed firmly against the wolf's muzzle. Unintentionally, Steve's lips grazed the sargeant's sweat-dampened crotch.
Lance bounced back up and tackled Steve. Without giving it a second thought, Lance hastily jerked Steve's pants off. Without realizing that his pants were being removed, Steve felt a little cooler. Now wearing his white tanker and tight briefs, Steve continued wrestle his friend without much concern. However, a strange thought crossed the private's mind. He was curious, but he couldn't rationalize his curiosity at that moment. As quickly as he could, Steve reached for Lance's crotch and stroked him there. Steve never felt another male's crotch before, but he liked it. He ran his fingers around the outline of the shephard's suddenly eager bulge. Unsurprisingly, Lance's sexual tension was reaching a boiling point.
In a sudden moment of aggression, Lance tugged down his camo pants, but only just a little so his aroused member could get some fresh air. Before Steve could say anything about the large, meaty shaft that was pointed directly at him, Lance flipped the wolf over onto his stomach and pulled down his briefs. Steve's tight, puckered tailhole was easy to access, Lance thought. It didn't matter whether it was right or wrong, good or bad. Lance had a desire that needed immediate gratification. Steve was still very intoxicated, so he was completely unaware of what was about to happen.
Lance stroked his cock and took a deep breath. The horny shephard moved into the wolf. The moment the tip of the shephard's shaft entered inside, Steve yelped and gasped. He tried to stand up, but the pain of entry paralyzed his movements temporarily. He tried to fight back, but he was exhausted from all the wrestling. The wolf was commanded to "hold still" by Lance, but he had difficulty following orders of his commanding officer. He grumbled and cursed at himself, shouting, "No! No! No! Goddammit!" as the much stronger shephard held him down.
All Lance knew was that he had to get his quick fix, and there was no other way. He pushed himself aggressively into Steve's tailhole, pulled out and humped him at a manic pace. His sagging, furry balls thrashed back and forth with sweat dripping down from them. He heared Steve moaning, but it didn't matter whether the moans were made out of pain or pleasure. He had to get the job done. Lance placed his right arm on the wolf's back and kept him partially subdued. His left hand remained squarely on the left side of his unwilling partner's waist. Every second counted as Lance got closer to reaching his climax. He could feel it. The everlasting itch was about to finally be satisfied, and he couldn't care less about the outcome.
Whimpering and panting heavily, Steve started to adjust to the situation, and his sober awareness started to slowly appear. He desperately tried to reconcile the matter at hand, but the stimulation was so intense and taxing, he couldn't help but remain silent. Lance teased the wolf and told him that his tailhole was "nice and tight" while reflecting crudely on how easy it was to "fuck his bitch." Steve winced when he heard the dirty talk, but it also energized him. The wolf wagged his tail: an indication that he, too, was aroused. When Steve spoke again, he was no longer shouting, "No." He was shouting, "Yes!" instead. Steve reached a euphoria of unrelenting lust.
"You like it hard!" Lance barked.
"Yes sir! Ohhh... uh... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Take it like a good faggot!"
"Yes sir!" Steve let out a faint gasp as his cock throbbed and fired a series of cum spurts in his pants. The wolf's clothed crotch dampened in a thick mix of semen, sweat and musk. "Oh God! Ohhhhh!" shouted Steve loudly.
Lance humped Steve violently before he discharged his excess of seed into the wolf's prostate. The shephard loosened his grip on Steve's waist once he finished. Lance pulled out, leaving a long, sticky string of silky white seed between Steve's tailhole and the tip of his cock.
Lance subsequently scrambled to fetch his pants. Meanwhile, Steve laid on the floor, breathless and captivated. The wolf never experienced anything like it before. Though he was exhausted, he entertained the idea of doing it all over again. However, it was late, and it was nearing time for "lights out." Fighting off a headache, Steve slowly rose from the floor only to stumble and wander aimlessly around the room. After getting dressed, Lance walked up to Steve and attempted to push him out the door. "You weren't here, and nothing happened," Lance instructed. While pushed, Steve tried to pull up his pants albeit sloppily.
"Wait, wait, wait. I can walk. Paws off, man," Steve muttered to Lance, while brushing the shephard's paws away from his shoulders. Steve was allowed to get himself fully dressed, leaving little time for the wolf to think about what happened to him. He didn't want to call the sexual encounter by the proper term, "rape," because it was an encounter that he wound up enjoying immensely. Lance jogged over to the door and opened it wide, allowing the dazed wolf to stumble outside of the bunker. Though he was often irritated with typical, humid desert conditions day-by-day, Steve found the outside air to be strangely refreshing. He still had a lot to think about.
"I couldn't completely accept what happened at first," said Lance in retrospect, "All my life, up to that point, I was dating women and thinking, like, 'Okay, this is the way life is suppose to be.' Then it was just like that. I took an opportunity to do something different -- and it changed my life forever."
At noon, soldiers from a variety of divisions dined in the mess hall. Steve sat quietly at a table full of hungry soldiers, looking expressionless at the food on his tray. The wolf took his fork and moved his salad around. Steve was up all night, thinking about what happened. Who could ever foresee a sexual encounter like that? It was unfathomable, Steve thought while he ate his meal. There was one thing that was certain: Steve wanted to be with Lance again. He craved the shephard's body, but there was no foreseeable opportunity to engage in such conduct again without getting caught. It was clear that Lance triggered Steve's addiction for sex, and that addiction needed to be satisfied regularly -- but how?