A Hidden Life – Fort Campbell Pt. 03

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The door was opened by a smartly dressed black man in his late thirties. Probably 170 or so pounds at six foot. He seemed ready to say something, then changed his mind, instead saying simply “Come In.”

We stopped in the family room. The room had a professional billiards table in the center, a bar with leather barstools in the corner and a Lazy-Boy with a side table facing a television.

The walls, were paneled and decorated with various African items. Along one wall were posters of famous African Americans, like Malcolm X, the two Olympian medalists, their fists raised to black power, the obligatory ML K and similar posters.

“You understand why you’re here, don’t you?” he asked.

“I’m here because Maurice said you wanted to meet me.” I replied, adding “He also said you took special interest in the fact that I was white.”

“Yeah, I’m buying a house from Maurice.” he said, “A friend loaned me this house for a few weeks until I buy and get settled.

He was unbuttoning his shirt while staring at me. He slowly let the shirt slide off his shoulders and carefully folded it, placing it on the pool table.

He undid his belt and unbuttoned the waistband of his pants, then stopped.

Pointing to the floor in front of him, he said, “Kneel right there and I’ll pull it out.”

Wordlessly, I knelt in front of him.

“What you want white boy? You want some of my dick?” he asked.

I reached for his zipper.

“No you don’t. Your nasty hands aren’t touching my dick.” he sneered. “You want to touch my black dick? You open your mouth and I’ll let you touch as much as you want with your mouth.”

I pantomimed and opened my mouth wide.

He responded by unzipping his trousers and pushing them and his boxers off together. He bent down and picked up the trousers, kicking the boxers to the side.

He had a nice seven inch penis, not all the way erect, but standing out from his body before curving down.

He stepped forward so that his penis dangled in front of my face while he made a show of folding his trousers.

I forced my body to go lower and turned my face up like a baby birds, trying to snag what appeared to be a tasty wiggling worm.

He put his trousers on the table, then seeing what I was attempting to do, he pushed forward on his tip toes and let his cock dangle into my mouth.

My lips closed around his cock as I tongued the glans and that part of the shaft that was in my mouth.

He let me get him erect before pulling his cock from my mouth by stepping backwards.

“Beg for it.” he said.

“Can I suck your cock?” I begged.

“My what cock?” he asked, “What color cock? Is it a big or little cock?”

“Can I suck your big, black, cock?” I begged again.

He stepped forward again. This time I had to raise myself on my knees a little bit to get his erect cock into my mouth without using my hands.

I sucked and slurped on his cock, maintaining a balance of keeping him rock hard and yet, not letting him get too far down the stimulation path.

As I was sucking him fully into my mouth, he pushed his hips forward, hitting the back of my mouth firmly with the head of his cock saying “There’s several inches of my dick that aren’t being sucked yet. I thought you said you like black dick?”

“Maurice said you can get a cock into your throat, so I know you can do it. “Maybe you need some help swallowing my big cock?” he said.

Grabbing my head with both hands, he said, “Here, let me show you how to do it.” He pulled my head forward as he pressed the head of his cock against the back of my mouth. I pushed my tongue forward, under his glans and let him push his cock into my throat.

My gag reflex hit harder than normal causing me to choke uncontrollably for several seconds before it passed.

“That’s how you suck a black dick.” he jeered.

“Here, let me help you some more.” he said while quickly and firmly power fucking my throat for several thrusts before pulling out entirely. He cock glistened with my saliva, long strands of thick saliva still connecting his cock to my mouth.

He pushed his cock down and into my mouth again with one hand while simultaneously pulling my head forward and impaling my throat with his cock in one fluid movement.

I knew I was going to be pretty hoarse after this. In self defense, I pressed my tongue against the underside of his cock firmly while he thrust violently into my throat.

Soon, without any warning that I detected, he pulled out and ejaculated great gobs of cum onto my face.

“Stick out your tongue!” he yelled. When my tongue was out, he finished ejaculating into my mouth, my tongue catching the cum that didn’t make it there.

That was an interesting way to finish. The first time anyone had done that to me. I decided that in the future, I would much rather have the guy cum into my mouth though.

“You can get some napkins from the bar and clean yourself up before you leave.” he said while gathering his clothes and walking into another part illegal bahis of the house.

I stopped at a gas station and got fuel for the bike and used the restroom to ensure I was cleaned up before heading back to the barracks.

Although Maurice could never be sure, I was going to suggest to him that future clients with ‘abrasive’ attitudes be told to fuck the hell off.

I opened the door of my room, noticing the two envelopes and a note from the CQ.

Glancing at the note, I wadded it up and put it in the waste bin, nothing important.

One of the envelopes was marked ‘Official Business’, I tossed it on the desk.

The second envelope was addressed to simply ‘Sarge’. Probably a note reminding me of someone’s scheduled leave or something mundane like that. As I was getting ready to throw it on the desk also, it occurred to me that there wasn’t a simple note in the envelope, it had too much weight and was kind of stiff. I tore the end of the envelope off and shook out the contents.

Glancing at the Polaroid, my ass landed on my office chair like two heavy sacks of concrete. The photo was actually composed of four things.

In the first quadrant was a piece of paper that said Elite Realty and last Thursday’s date.

In the second quadrant, was a photo of Maurice sitting on the corner of his desk, his pants off, his erection clearly visible and a nice profile shot of me in the act of kneeling in front of him.

In the third quadrant, was a photo of Maurice clearly balls deep in my mouth.

In the final quadrant, I was captured happily licking the cum off of Maurice’s cock.

All three photos appeared to have been taken downward through the venetian blinds of Maurice’s office.

The inscription on the bottom of the Polaroid read, “I don’t think I’ll ever have to go camping with the 502nd.” told me exactly who was responsible.

Enraged, I went downstairs to find Specialist Jackson.

Fortunately, the doors to the rooms were made of solid wood instead of that hollow cheap shit, because my three ‘knocks’ were done with the side of my fist, like a sledgehammer.

In retrospect, it was a good thing that Jackson wasn’t around. I most likely would have hospitalized him and the resultant investigation would have uncovered why.

I returned to my room, put the photo back in its’ envelope, grabbed my helmet and headed downtown.

Maurice was in his office. I entered, closed and locked the door. Tossing the envelope onto his desk, I said, “I’ve been too careless.”

While Maurice opened the envelope, I stood at the corner of Maurice’s desk and looked out the venetian blinds. It was apparent what happened, Jackson had stood on a large ornamental pot so that his view was in line with the mostly closed blinds and took photos into Maurice’s well lit office. As it was dusk, he was virtually invisible from inside the office. Since he knew the number was for a realty office, he had simply come down ahead of my shift ending and waited for me to show up.

Maurice asked what I wanted to do about Jackson. While personally, I wanted nothing more than to give him a good beating, I needed the photos, and frankly, I needed Jackson to not want to stir the pot for me. I told Maurice I would work on Jackson and he should do nothing, other than get some drapes for his office.

On Sunday morning, right at 06:30, I lightly rapped on Jackson’s door. It was answered by his room mate who said that Jackson wasn’t there and he hadn’t seen him since Saturday morning. I thanked him and asked him to send Jackson my way if he ran into him that day.

I spent Sunday, making sure I had memorized Mark’s number along with Maurice’s home phone. I discarded Ron’s numbers figuring I could get them again when this was over. The tubes of KY also hit the trash. If Jackson caused me to get investigated, I was going to make it difficult for anyone to find any other leads. Maurice knew enough and had the resources to lawyer up if need be. I knew though, that if CID was to ask Ron, he wouldn’t know enough to avoid getting caught up in lying to them.

By the evening, I thought I had it pretty well figured out how to avoid a conviction at court martial, but it would be a career ending investigation anyway.

On Monday, Jackson was in formation for PT. I glared at him. He seemed pretty nonchalant about it.

I eventually caught him alone around Noon, standing outside smoking while his partner handed in some paperwork inside.

“We need to talk.” I said.

Looking behind him first, he said, “Oh. You want to talk to me now? Last we talked you wanted to send me on a camping trip.”

I just knew I could knock him senseless with one punch. As my fist balled up in preparation, his partner came out, pausing to light up as soon as his hat was on.

Faking a smile at Jackson, I said in a low voice, “My room, 17:00, clear?”

I nodded at his partner and went into the building.

I could hear Jackson tell his partner “Oh, he was just checking to see what sort of stuff illegal bahis siteleri we were handling today. Probably bored or something.”

At 17:00 (5PM for those not familiar with a 24 hour clock.) there were two light raps on my door.

“Enter.” I said.

Jackson entered, already wearing civvies. I went to the door and locked it behind him, throwing a “Have a seat.” over my shoulder.

Turning from the door, I noticed he had sat on the side of my bed.

“Get the fuck off my bed Specialist! You never sit on someone else’s rack!” I fumed, “Park your butt in a chair, dumb ass.”

Looking somewhat chagrined, he took a seat in the visitors’ chair next to the desk.

Putting two cups on the desk, I opened my thermos and poured two cups, sliding one to him before sitting down in the desk chair.

“You’ve got my undivided attention, Specialist.” I said conversationally, “I have two questions for you; why did you do it and what do you want out of it?”

“You can call me Josh for starters.” he replied. “To answer your first question, I was bored.”

He continued, saying “You’re not as smart as you think you are Sarge. You were fairly easy to identify at the rec center. How many big white guys do you think suck a dick through a glory hole and then ride off on a Kawasaki 900?”

He explained that he had seen my bike at the rec center numerous times, while never actually seeing me in the place. He said that he knew of the glory hole, in fact that was the number one reason he went to the center.

“You’ve sucked me at least four times that I’m certain of through that hole.” he said.

Grinning he said, “Probably quite a few more times than that. I go there a lot.”

“Anyway when you started getting calls from that Maurice fellow, I decided to find out what that was all about. You’re not buying a house, so why all the calls from a Realtor?” I thought.

He explained that it didn’t take much to locate the Realty office and determine who Maurice was and what office he occupied. On a Sunday, he had went around the back of the office, noting that he could see in the blinds at a downward angle, almost like there were no blinds at all. He had moved the planter closer to the window to be able to get higher and thus see further into the office.

On the day he asked me about the note, he said he knew I would go down there after work, so he went down there before me to see what I was up to. He took the Polaroid along on an hunch.

Josh said, “I sat at a donut shop drinking coffee and eating a hell of a lot of donuts before I heard your bike. As soon as you entered the office, I paid my bill and went around to the back of the realty office.”

Josh continued, “By the time I got back there, the other guy was already taking off his pants. I snapped the first photo just as you were kneeling in front of him. Personally, I figured I would only get the one shot before having to run like hell. Instead, I got to shoot the whole cartridge of film. The three I sent you a copy of documented the event pretty well, don’t you think?”

My mind was reeling. As easily as this, one person had discovered my hidden life, a team from CID or ASA would have had no problem what so ever.

“Before you even think about it, you should know that the photos and a full written statements have been hidden where they are not likely to be discovered. You heard right, ‘they’. I divided the photos in two sets. So if you decide to search my room or my car or anywhere else you think I hid them, just know that you’re going to be wrong. Also, I have a safety deposit box with a note on where I hid one set.” he said.

He seemed to have been pretty thorough.

“Okay, so you’ve got me. Now, ‘what’ do you want?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s probably not what you think either. Well, maybe, some of it is what you think.” he said.

He continued, “You know I’m not the best looking guy in the unit. The local women here won’t give me a fucking chance. At least in Korea, the women there were able to see past my face and would go out with me.”

“I want to get the fuck out of here and go back to Korea.” he stated.

“That’s a hardship assignment, dip shit.” I said, “There is nothing that is going to get the Army to send you back to Korea this soon. Besides, you know transfer orders don’t come from anywhere near my level, or even from this post. I don’t know how you think I’ll be able to do it.”

“That’s not my problem, Sarge, it’s yours.” he stated as a matter of fact. “I can tell you this, until I’m shipping out to Korea, each and every time my dick gets a little lonely, I’m coming to wherever you are, so you can handle that problem for me as well.”

Standing and unzipping his slacks, he said “You wouldn’t believe how often I get horny.”

Trapped, I watched as he pulled a five and a half inch dick from his zipper. I actually recognized his cock because just before the head, his shaft bent hard to the right.

I dutifully, sucked his cock, intentionally causing him canlı bahis siteleri to cum quickly.

I spent the next couple of hours tooling around on my bike, trying to work through the pickle I was in and not finding any answers other than putting up with being Jackson’s personal fuck toy until he transferred out of the unit.

Since I was nearby, I decided to see if Maurice was in his office. It turned out that he was. I knocked and was let in by Maurice. We went into his office. I noticed that there were now curtain sheers framed by a valance and what appeared to be heavy blackout drapes.

“Yeah, the fucking pot is gone also.” Maurice said.

I filled Maurice in on what I was told from Jackson. While he sympathized with me, he didn’t have any possible solutions to the dilemma either.

Handing me a slip of paper, he said, “Ron called and asked if I had passed along his offer. I told him I had but that you were probably busy with something work related, so you hadn’t had a chance to call him back yet.

Without a word, I turned Maurice’s phone towards me and dialed Ron’s home number.

“Hello?” said the clearly feminine voice.

“Um, is Ron available?” I replied, “I’m sorry, my name is Dave.”

“Oh. Dave? Please wait while I get him to the phone. I know he’s been wanting to talk to you.” Her voice flowed like honey through the line.

“Hello?” came Ron’s voice.

“Hi, Ron. It’s been a while. Maurice says to tell you hello.” I said.

“Dave!” Ron said excitedly, “I’ve been hoping you’d call. What did you think of my proposal?”

“I thought it was generous, too generous in fact.” I replied. “All I’ll ask for is about, maybe seven or eight bucks for some supplies. I’ll provide a receipt, of course.”

“Nonsense. The offer still stands if you want it.” he said. “When do you want to meet? I’ll clear my calendar and have Kathy clear hers also. Name the date.”

“Saturday is good…” I got out before getting a big head shake from Maurice. “Hold on, maybe it isn’t.” I said.

Maurice told me that Kathy was going to be showing a very nice house on Saturday and would probably lose out on a nice commission.

I covered the phone. “Sunday?” I asked Maurice.

“Sunday is good.” he said.

Back to the phone, “Ron? How about Sunday, around one in the afternoon? Okay, will see you then.”

I told Maurice I would update him on any new events and headed back to post. I was feeling a little better about my predicament.

On Tuesday, I called Mark and asked if I could come over.

I was still giving Mark double headers several times a week. To be fair, his premature ejaculation problem was subsiding rather well. He could easily last ten to fifteen minutes now on the first blow job, with the proviso I didn’t get him too excited beforehand.

Feeling safe in my relationship with Mark, I told him about my being blackmailed by Specialist Joshua Jackson. I explained Josh’s demands that I somehow get him back to Korea and until then, Josh’s plans for me to service him on demand.

I sucked Mark for the second time that evening, made a tentative meeting plan for Friday, then headed back to the barracks.

I had just fallen asleep, when at a quarter before midnight, there were two light raps on my door. I got up to answer the door, already suspecting that it was going to be Josh. I was not pleasantly surprised otherwise.

To his credit, Josh said not a word, he just pulled out his dick and leaned back against the locker. Less than ten minutes later he was gone.

Josh was back on Wednesday, again just before midnight.

Thursday evening, I rode around to the used car lots, walking through their inventory.

Friday was back with Marc. I learned that Marc was due to take leave in less than two weeks to be with his wife when she delivered. He would be returning with her and our evening meetings at his home would have to stop.

On Saturday, I was the proud new owner of a used, nondescript ’74 Ford Taurus TC. Mark had agreed to ride on the back of my bike and drive the car onto post for me providing that we stopped to have breakfast at the diner where Norma worked.

Sunday arrived and I went shopping. I bought a three pack of non-lubricated condoms from the pharmacy, two large smoked sausages, a pack of hot dogs and one cucumber from the grocery store.

I got to Ron’s house just before one o’clock. He met me in the driveway and brought me into the house via the garage.

“Wow, your home looks fantastic.” I said. “Someone really knows how to decorate.”

“That would be Kathy.” Ron said.

In the family room I admired the close up photos of hummingbirds that decorated the walls.

Ron said, “Kathy takes those. She puts a camera on a tripod near the feeder, focuses the lens, then operates the camera with a remote through the window. Wait here, while I go get her.”

“Dave? Meet my wife Kathy.” Ron said. “She’s the one with the skills that you’ve been admiring, by the way.”

Kathy stood several inches taller than her five foot tall husband. She had a tiny, delicate, build. She was dressed to the nines in a buttoned up, high collar, white blouse and pencil skirt.

“So, you’re Dave.” Kathy purred while offering her hand to me, palm down.

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