Military is not was I supposed it would be, when I first heard my allocation. I was in a position, where I could choose where I'd go, so they gave me only one place to pick. I didn't come from a family with military traditions. Some old, distant uncle or two maybe had a carreer in the force, but I was not in contact with them, so it made no difference to me. I expected, that the service would be a harsh, psychologically and phisically demanding road. That I would have to deal with old-minded people, crazies, might-have-been adolescent criminals and officers with superiority complex. That at least was a scenario that my at the time girflend Olga written for me, along with my parents, brother and sister, and roughly all of the people I knew. Everybody had an opinion about my idea to make a profession for life of military service.
None of the heard things were true, but perhaps the negative thinking made the process easier. Every time I was surprised - that my unit has no hazing waves, no (or maybe just a few) maniacs, and my colleagues are just normal men trying to make a trade out of the army. Also, outranking soldiers could be divided into three groups. Those, who want to make thinks well, those, who want to make things far too well, and those who don't care about anything at all. The most important finding was, however, that a good career is possible. Someone reminded about it from time to time, that the doors to advancement are open to those who show good results, ambition and have their feet on the ground.
The last of the compulsorily enlisted soldiers were leaving the unit. Mandatory service was almost a history. They still sometimes called us "poborowi" (conscripts), and they still complained about the "quality" of the recent conscripts. From the other hand, the older men often said that the volunteering force is far more disciplined, encoureged, have better results. But then, they also complained that the commanders are too easy on us, making it an army different from what they remembered.
This story was supposed to be about how I spend my early time in the army with another man. It's been more than 12 years and only now I am able to call things correct names - I had a lover in the army, or in other words, I spend some time in a gay relationship. Name-calling of those experiences makes no sense to me.
Who never served in the military would never now, what lack of sex, lack of closeness and long periods without any contact with the opossite sex can do to a man. You can have a periodic pass. Those studying have even a student holiday free of service. But between my first and second pass, Olga left me. A story of abandonement is something that many of us had at one moment. At evenings, we would make stories outloud about with whom are our exes whoring that night, just to make the night brighter by reminding ourselves, that something called sex still exists. My break I would spend chasing women, frustrated to a point, that I would certainly hire some hookers if only they were easier to find in my home area. It was hard to explain to my family, what I do at nights and why I won't spend more time with them. Noone understood, maybe except my brother. My friends were still able to make time to meet for a couple of beers, but partying as the old times no longer happened. My long-time friends also thought that idea of military service for life is simply stupid. So, in the end, after Olga left me, I started to meet new people and gradually found myself in totally different group of friends. There was nothing wrong about that essentially, but I think it may just have covered my loneliness. People seen from time to time are not as close to you, as childhood well-known friends.
Happilly women love men in uniforms. Eventually I managed to meet some girl to spend a happy night with. I even started to hope again that I will settle one day, which actually happened eventually, but much, much later. Until then, I had some more and less satisfying visits home. I was not supposed to write about my relations with women, but this one thing - lack of one, is someting that says a lot about serving in a military. One time, I came back to the unit without even one girl fucked, one quickie, one club blowjob, one cinema handjob, even a woman's kiss. Moreover, my family grew adjusted to the fact they practically don't see me. So I came back to the army like I would to a prison - hopeless, thinking that outside nothing and noone waits for me.
The service also changes in time. The initial period of excitement lasts like three seconds. As time passes, the physical trainings drain you, and soldiers grow boorush with each other. Playing cards becomes annoying, because every game is the same. I stopped watching games, because every time the same group of people would watch them, and the same Losek would shout the same, annoying comments. Nobody sees the morning boners anymore, and every morning a parade of erected underpants walks to the bathrooms, and that is so everyday and normal, that even the biggest clowns of the unit became bored of making funny comments about it. Wanking in the toilet cabin became like a chore. People started to make sanitary rules about it - to ejaculate first in a piece of paper, then flush it, never aim to cum in the toilet directly. Said Losek was particularly loud about it. He was an annoying man. But he had a nice mobile phone, the only one with a rather decent, colored screen. A rare thing at that time. Only now and then he would try to impress us with it, showing terrible-quality, short porn videos. I still remember every second of those videos. Most of all the sound. I would recall the sounds many times, wanking in the cabin. Todays' access to porn may be a little crazy, but it definitely makes a lonely man's life easier. It was nothing like that back then. You would get excited by a short sex scene in a movie. You would remember details of a stocking commercial. You would have no nudes of your girlfriend, except the pictures in your head. I feel old.
I write all of this maybe to excuse myself for doing things, that I ultimately am not even that ashamed of, but still, they are a secret.
A year passed. I had my first, really worth taking army contract ahead of me. In this time, in May, another round of field training was due. A march through the valley with fallen trees fully equipped. They said it was 6 km. The youngsters believed. Olders, like me, already knew that this is more or less 10 km. As usual, rumors about the general making inspection at the goal, and people from the ministry would make photos and so on. Those things I didn't believe neither. I knew, that at most, captain Gierek or maybe even captain Płetwa - a typical military jerk would be at the place to scold the slower squads, and then they would allow the fastest teams to spend some time around the nearby lake. That was the time, when I slowly realised, that I was a rather strong and fit man. Far more fit then at the beginning, and more fit then most of the participants. My squad was among the quickest. At the goal, we only had a folddown to finish (roll the tents) - piece of cake. Apparently, previous trainings involved setting the tents. It was all easy. Then we made a report and indeed - we were allowed for a stroll to the lake.
There was a seasonal, dingy store. And old cruncy woman was selling at this time. We all hoped for a young, slutty, big boobed saleswoman, but this time we could only imagine one. It was only May, too early for seasonal employees. It was still an occasion to make some jokes with the old woman, experienced in conversing with a group of lustful soldiers. Walking back we spoke outloud our most explicit, wild sexual desires. Those were the times, in which all of us could see how frustrated we all are, how lack of sex is a common thing. To express our preferences and fantasies. It was like mechanism, to somehow survive with no sex. It makes you feel another kind of bond.
We made it to the field in time to hear the scolding of the slowest squads. We received an order to report back at the unit at 4 pm. The corporals of the quickest teams were to go back on cars. The rest of us - we were happy and thankful. Gierek apparenly was in a good mood. Almost four hours to make the way back without supervision. We expected the youngsters to barely make it. We took the lead.
Maybe 3/4 of the way we were much ahead of the others. In the front, the "right" group of people kept up. It was me, and maybe 8 or 10 friends with whom nothing was off limits. We could finally complain outloud. Staszek could bring up the beer which he couragously bought at the store. But most of all, we could make a break, sit down comfortably while the sun was pleasingly warming our faces. I took just a sip of Staszek's warm disgusting beer, because we had 2 more days of training ahead, and I already knew how alcohol can mess with a tired body. I was sitting comfortably by a fallen tree, speaking rubbish with the others. Some of us still fantasied about a slutty storekeeper. It was chilly, but we were warmed up and the sun was really pleasant. Out of nowhere, Litwin came to me (Litwin means Lithuanian). We called him Litwin, becaused he was the only one to spend time with the Lithuanian exchange soldiers some time before. He was a fellow polish soldier from Mazovia. He sat down next to me and twisted, then he laid down putting his head on me. He adjusted a few times, practically making a bed out of my belly like it was the most common thing to do. I almost screamed at him to get the hell away. I stopped talking completely. I tried to comprehend, what I am doing and what is Litwin doing. Nobody bat an eye. With my every breath, his head moved up and down on my breastbone, and he didn't say anything or do anything, just kept laying with his head on my belly. I didn't know what to do with my hand. Finally, I put it on his chest, because in this position, it was the only place to comfortably rest it. It felt weird and I wanted to take it back quickly, but that would also be weird, so I just let it be. I closed my eyes as he did and rested. I needed to acknowledge, that it was quite a change to feel a buddy next to me. After a long period of no close contact with other people I somehow forgot how it feels. I also admitted to myself for the first time, that I acually liked Litwin, and perhaps he was the only person at the time, whom I would remember years later as a true friend from the army. I was happy to have him close at that precise moment for a brief time just to acknowledge those things. I also had thoughts that things like that - men in uniform laying next to each other or with each other were common around the unit, and nobody makes fuss about it. Jokes about it got boring. Later, the following teams came close, so we moved ahead like nothing happened.
Only after I wrote all of those things at the beginning I see, how irrelevant, boring and not pushing the story forward they may seem. I started writing just to express the unusual things I did at the beginning of my service. But it was a dry, who-what-to-whom kind of story, so I added a beginning, then I wrote about what thing lead to the other. I was not aware that im a literary man. I was not aware that I could really write this much in english. Well, this is probably the all time highest point of my english skills, I guess I've got north atlantic alliance to thank for that, and even though I read the text like 4 times, I can't see the errors that are in it for sure. You just have to bear it or someone else will have to correct them. I wasn't able to show the text to anyone I know, and If I was able, I wouldn't write it in a foreign language in the first place.
Chatting and the store, sex stories, expressed frustration. We are all the same and there is something animal about us. In my writing, I finally reached a point in which today, calmly thinking I can say, everything began. Something snapped in me. But it turned out to be just a story of how a friend laid his head on me. Pathetic.
Still, my friendship with Litwin developed from that point. Until then, I was the one not getting close to other people, focusing on trainings and wining about Olga leaving me. It was nice to discover a person, with whom there are countless common topics, common opinions. We had maybe not that many occasions. But when they happened, we would get together without scheduling, it was unarguable that we find way for some kind of activity together: football, tv, cards, anything. We always had things to talk about. We liked the same jokes. We were turned on by the same acresses. If for whatever reason we would not see each other for a day or a few, the next time we would talk for hours without a break. He would speak about boring, repetetive activities from the previous days in a funny and interesting way, so I was always happy to listen. When I saw him I also told him about things that I knew he might find interesting, and there were a lot of them. It was like a conversation that never ends or starts, it simply continues at the next occasion without new greetings or hellos. He would see me and start with "So this morning I...". After some time, we were supposed to spend more time with each other, because after the guard's shuffle, we received a night guard together at the gate.
The gate was the most liked guardspot in the entire unit. Guarding this place was like a reward for behaving soldiers. The only duties were to tour the area and to ID and let in people coming. Most of the nights, absolutely noone came at night from that direction. In the building there was a toilet, but it was out of service. Stuffed with broken furniture. We peed outside in the back of the house. If someone needed to take a dump - he had a problem, a trip back to the unit was neccessary. It was not my first guard at this spot. Guarding during the day was made by one person most of time.
The desk inside was around 3-chairs wide (but there were two). It was an old and deep desk. Every night there it worked the same. One person goes for patrol, the other one jerks off under the desk. On the next patrol they switch, and the second person can relieve himself. It required some courtesy and good timing, not to come back from the patrol too soon, so to not disturb the wanker's happy moment. Under the desk, although everyone takes cleaning duties seriously, there was a grand flux of dried semen on the wall. With a good light one could see a good and partially yellowed wax-like layer of cum that could be easly scratched away in thick layers. A rather unpleasant sight if you think about it. But in those circumnstances - a most common and normal thing to see. Similar, but much smaller trails of cum were left in front of the seats on the sides. Generations of privates silently agreed, that it was the perfect spot to get off, that there you can slide your pants down to the feet and fantasise without risk of beeing seen. Generations of soldiers as well agreed not to ever clean the cum, so that everyone can know, that this was a place of choice, to spurt away frustration, homesickness or longing for girlfriend's hips. Not only during the night, but at night it was the most comfortable. With Litwin we did the same. Even if he had never sat there before, it was like an instinct. Everybody immediately knew how it works.
All night shifts tended to drag on in time. After several shifts together, we grew boring of talking, or maybe finally out of topics. At times we would just sit there, listening to the radio, having a chat once in a while when someone came up with something interesting to say. Jerking off was the brightest moment of the night. The watch could be divided into two distinct peridos of time - waiting for "your" patrol, which was the part of anticipation, and the part after you discharged, which was boring and seemed logner. With Litwin, at least, we spoke about our urges, which was a nice change - to understand someone in these areas and have no subject off limits. We all have similar needs. We didn't speak about how nice we got off, after we were done, of course. Believe me, jerking off was a routine, since people were doing it all the time and everywhere, it would just be another boring topic. It was more about saying outloud "I hate that bitch but I would forgive her for just this one night". All those years of being a foul mouthed man, locker room talks and parties, but I don't remember ever admitting out loud, in the presence of another man, how much I miss my girl and fucking her, and not with intention of making a silly joke. Except during those talks with Litwin. He understood. And it also wasn't to make ourselves pointlessly horny, it wasn't even a sex talk. It was just about expressing feelings, getting them off chest.
During one of these watches, the most weird and uncomfortable thing happened to me. It happened when I came back to the house after my patrol. I cautiously approached the building, trying to find out if he finished. I've learned already that he needs a little longer than other people I watched the gate with. I saw his face through the window, and he shook his head in a denying gesture, marking that he's not finished, but at the same time, he waved at me calling me to come inside. Before I entered, he already pulled his pants up, so I thought he was finished after all. There was no recognizable smell of semen. He stood up (dressed) and said:
- I am going to approach you for a moment and touch you a little. Don't say anything and make no comments, please.
I started to mumble a little surprised. He came to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and on the other shoulder, he laid his face and gently pushed it against me. I needed to lean for more support, because he put some of his weight on me. My first thought was honestly, that something happened and he was going to tell me about it, some kind of family trouble or something. That he maybe finally found courage to share something that was bothering him, since we became close friends, and he simply needed a hug. I finally got my shit toghether and started saying something, and then:
- Shhh.. just shh.. - he whispered.
Meanwile he pulled his pants down and started masturbating again. I have never had such a confusing situation in my life before. I just stood there like paralyzed. Once I span out of shock, I was worried that we could be seen. I looked around and were calm again - even if something is visible, it is by someone far far away, where it could be hard to determine what was going on. Finally I decided, that as his friend, I should understand and not make a fuss about it. No harm to me. He had a need for a little closeness. Not many friends, girflend left him, noone waiting outside of the unit. I decided to give him what he needs, hold out and keep the thing a secret. I wrapped my hand around his back. The situation at the time was not a pleasant one to me. I would rather not be used this way. I just waited for him to finish. Curiosity had its way however, one second I tried to have a glimpse of him jerking off, but I didn't see anything. He was standing too close to me. He was breathing heavily. Possibly smelling me. I remember his hair smelling like engine oil, no idea why. To this day I can recall that smell like it was yesterday. Finally, he pulled his underpants up:
- Ok, now you can leave for a while.
And thats exactly what I did. And he sat back at the spot in the middle of the desk. This time I was standing close to the house. I saw his arm wanking those last moves, I saw the tempo, but most of all, I saw the pleasure, and I was envious.
I had this text secretly saved for a few years. Added and cut stuff like it was a living diary and I can pick which memories to change. I finally decided to post it. But with this 20k characer limit it is going to be defficult.
None of the heard things were true, but perhaps the negative thinking made the process easier. Every time I was surprised - that my unit has no hazing waves, no (or maybe just a few) maniacs, and my colleagues are just normal men trying to make a trade out of the army. Also, outranking soldiers could be divided into three groups. Those, who want to make thinks well, those, who want to make things far too well, and those who don't care about anything at all. The most important finding was, however, that a good career is possible. Someone reminded about it from time to time, that the doors to advancement are open to those who show good results, ambition and have their feet on the ground.
The last of the compulsorily enlisted soldiers were leaving the unit. Mandatory service was almost a history. They still sometimes called us "poborowi" (conscripts), and they still complained about the "quality" of the recent conscripts. From the other hand, the older men often said that the volunteering force is far more disciplined, encoureged, have better results. But then, they also complained that the commanders are too easy on us, making it an army different from what they remembered.
This story was supposed to be about how I spend my early time in the army with another man. It's been more than 12 years and only now I am able to call things correct names - I had a lover in the army, or in other words, I spend some time in a gay relationship. Name-calling of those experiences makes no sense to me.
Who never served in the military would never now, what lack of sex, lack of closeness and long periods without any contact with the opossite sex can do to a man. You can have a periodic pass. Those studying have even a student holiday free of service. But between my first and second pass, Olga left me. A story of abandonement is something that many of us had at one moment. At evenings, we would make stories outloud about with whom are our exes whoring that night, just to make the night brighter by reminding ourselves, that something called sex still exists. My break I would spend chasing women, frustrated to a point, that I would certainly hire some hookers if only they were easier to find in my home area. It was hard to explain to my family, what I do at nights and why I won't spend more time with them. Noone understood, maybe except my brother. My friends were still able to make time to meet for a couple of beers, but partying as the old times no longer happened. My long-time friends also thought that idea of military service for life is simply stupid. So, in the end, after Olga left me, I started to meet new people and gradually found myself in totally different group of friends. There was nothing wrong about that essentially, but I think it may just have covered my loneliness. People seen from time to time are not as close to you, as childhood well-known friends.
Happilly women love men in uniforms. Eventually I managed to meet some girl to spend a happy night with. I even started to hope again that I will settle one day, which actually happened eventually, but much, much later. Until then, I had some more and less satisfying visits home. I was not supposed to write about my relations with women, but this one thing - lack of one, is someting that says a lot about serving in a military. One time, I came back to the unit without even one girl fucked, one quickie, one club blowjob, one cinema handjob, even a woman's kiss. Moreover, my family grew adjusted to the fact they practically don't see me. So I came back to the army like I would to a prison - hopeless, thinking that outside nothing and noone waits for me.
The service also changes in time. The initial period of excitement lasts like three seconds. As time passes, the physical trainings drain you, and soldiers grow boorush with each other. Playing cards becomes annoying, because every game is the same. I stopped watching games, because every time the same group of people would watch them, and the same Losek would shout the same, annoying comments. Nobody sees the morning boners anymore, and every morning a parade of erected underpants walks to the bathrooms, and that is so everyday and normal, that even the biggest clowns of the unit became bored of making funny comments about it. Wanking in the toilet cabin became like a chore. People started to make sanitary rules about it - to ejaculate first in a piece of paper, then flush it, never aim to cum in the toilet directly. Said Losek was particularly loud about it. He was an annoying man. But he had a nice mobile phone, the only one with a rather decent, colored screen. A rare thing at that time. Only now and then he would try to impress us with it, showing terrible-quality, short porn videos. I still remember every second of those videos. Most of all the sound. I would recall the sounds many times, wanking in the cabin. Todays' access to porn may be a little crazy, but it definitely makes a lonely man's life easier. It was nothing like that back then. You would get excited by a short sex scene in a movie. You would remember details of a stocking commercial. You would have no nudes of your girlfriend, except the pictures in your head. I feel old.
I write all of this maybe to excuse myself for doing things, that I ultimately am not even that ashamed of, but still, they are a secret.
A year passed. I had my first, really worth taking army contract ahead of me. In this time, in May, another round of field training was due. A march through the valley with fallen trees fully equipped. They said it was 6 km. The youngsters believed. Olders, like me, already knew that this is more or less 10 km. As usual, rumors about the general making inspection at the goal, and people from the ministry would make photos and so on. Those things I didn't believe neither. I knew, that at most, captain Gierek or maybe even captain Płetwa - a typical military jerk would be at the place to scold the slower squads, and then they would allow the fastest teams to spend some time around the nearby lake. That was the time, when I slowly realised, that I was a rather strong and fit man. Far more fit then at the beginning, and more fit then most of the participants. My squad was among the quickest. At the goal, we only had a folddown to finish (roll the tents) - piece of cake. Apparently, previous trainings involved setting the tents. It was all easy. Then we made a report and indeed - we were allowed for a stroll to the lake.
There was a seasonal, dingy store. And old cruncy woman was selling at this time. We all hoped for a young, slutty, big boobed saleswoman, but this time we could only imagine one. It was only May, too early for seasonal employees. It was still an occasion to make some jokes with the old woman, experienced in conversing with a group of lustful soldiers. Walking back we spoke outloud our most explicit, wild sexual desires. Those were the times, in which all of us could see how frustrated we all are, how lack of sex is a common thing. To express our preferences and fantasies. It was like mechanism, to somehow survive with no sex. It makes you feel another kind of bond.
We made it to the field in time to hear the scolding of the slowest squads. We received an order to report back at the unit at 4 pm. The corporals of the quickest teams were to go back on cars. The rest of us - we were happy and thankful. Gierek apparenly was in a good mood. Almost four hours to make the way back without supervision. We expected the youngsters to barely make it. We took the lead.
Maybe 3/4 of the way we were much ahead of the others. In the front, the "right" group of people kept up. It was me, and maybe 8 or 10 friends with whom nothing was off limits. We could finally complain outloud. Staszek could bring up the beer which he couragously bought at the store. But most of all, we could make a break, sit down comfortably while the sun was pleasingly warming our faces. I took just a sip of Staszek's warm disgusting beer, because we had 2 more days of training ahead, and I already knew how alcohol can mess with a tired body. I was sitting comfortably by a fallen tree, speaking rubbish with the others. Some of us still fantasied about a slutty storekeeper. It was chilly, but we were warmed up and the sun was really pleasant. Out of nowhere, Litwin came to me (Litwin means Lithuanian). We called him Litwin, becaused he was the only one to spend time with the Lithuanian exchange soldiers some time before. He was a fellow polish soldier from Mazovia. He sat down next to me and twisted, then he laid down putting his head on me. He adjusted a few times, practically making a bed out of my belly like it was the most common thing to do. I almost screamed at him to get the hell away. I stopped talking completely. I tried to comprehend, what I am doing and what is Litwin doing. Nobody bat an eye. With my every breath, his head moved up and down on my breastbone, and he didn't say anything or do anything, just kept laying with his head on my belly. I didn't know what to do with my hand. Finally, I put it on his chest, because in this position, it was the only place to comfortably rest it. It felt weird and I wanted to take it back quickly, but that would also be weird, so I just let it be. I closed my eyes as he did and rested. I needed to acknowledge, that it was quite a change to feel a buddy next to me. After a long period of no close contact with other people I somehow forgot how it feels. I also admitted to myself for the first time, that I acually liked Litwin, and perhaps he was the only person at the time, whom I would remember years later as a true friend from the army. I was happy to have him close at that precise moment for a brief time just to acknowledge those things. I also had thoughts that things like that - men in uniform laying next to each other or with each other were common around the unit, and nobody makes fuss about it. Jokes about it got boring. Later, the following teams came close, so we moved ahead like nothing happened.
Only after I wrote all of those things at the beginning I see, how irrelevant, boring and not pushing the story forward they may seem. I started writing just to express the unusual things I did at the beginning of my service. But it was a dry, who-what-to-whom kind of story, so I added a beginning, then I wrote about what thing lead to the other. I was not aware that im a literary man. I was not aware that I could really write this much in english. Well, this is probably the all time highest point of my english skills, I guess I've got north atlantic alliance to thank for that, and even though I read the text like 4 times, I can't see the errors that are in it for sure. You just have to bear it or someone else will have to correct them. I wasn't able to show the text to anyone I know, and If I was able, I wouldn't write it in a foreign language in the first place.
Chatting and the store, sex stories, expressed frustration. We are all the same and there is something animal about us. In my writing, I finally reached a point in which today, calmly thinking I can say, everything began. Something snapped in me. But it turned out to be just a story of how a friend laid his head on me. Pathetic.
Still, my friendship with Litwin developed from that point. Until then, I was the one not getting close to other people, focusing on trainings and wining about Olga leaving me. It was nice to discover a person, with whom there are countless common topics, common opinions. We had maybe not that many occasions. But when they happened, we would get together without scheduling, it was unarguable that we find way for some kind of activity together: football, tv, cards, anything. We always had things to talk about. We liked the same jokes. We were turned on by the same acresses. If for whatever reason we would not see each other for a day or a few, the next time we would talk for hours without a break. He would speak about boring, repetetive activities from the previous days in a funny and interesting way, so I was always happy to listen. When I saw him I also told him about things that I knew he might find interesting, and there were a lot of them. It was like a conversation that never ends or starts, it simply continues at the next occasion without new greetings or hellos. He would see me and start with "So this morning I...". After some time, we were supposed to spend more time with each other, because after the guard's shuffle, we received a night guard together at the gate.
The gate was the most liked guardspot in the entire unit. Guarding this place was like a reward for behaving soldiers. The only duties were to tour the area and to ID and let in people coming. Most of the nights, absolutely noone came at night from that direction. In the building there was a toilet, but it was out of service. Stuffed with broken furniture. We peed outside in the back of the house. If someone needed to take a dump - he had a problem, a trip back to the unit was neccessary. It was not my first guard at this spot. Guarding during the day was made by one person most of time.
The desk inside was around 3-chairs wide (but there were two). It was an old and deep desk. Every night there it worked the same. One person goes for patrol, the other one jerks off under the desk. On the next patrol they switch, and the second person can relieve himself. It required some courtesy and good timing, not to come back from the patrol too soon, so to not disturb the wanker's happy moment. Under the desk, although everyone takes cleaning duties seriously, there was a grand flux of dried semen on the wall. With a good light one could see a good and partially yellowed wax-like layer of cum that could be easly scratched away in thick layers. A rather unpleasant sight if you think about it. But in those circumnstances - a most common and normal thing to see. Similar, but much smaller trails of cum were left in front of the seats on the sides. Generations of privates silently agreed, that it was the perfect spot to get off, that there you can slide your pants down to the feet and fantasise without risk of beeing seen. Generations of soldiers as well agreed not to ever clean the cum, so that everyone can know, that this was a place of choice, to spurt away frustration, homesickness or longing for girlfriend's hips. Not only during the night, but at night it was the most comfortable. With Litwin we did the same. Even if he had never sat there before, it was like an instinct. Everybody immediately knew how it works.
All night shifts tended to drag on in time. After several shifts together, we grew boring of talking, or maybe finally out of topics. At times we would just sit there, listening to the radio, having a chat once in a while when someone came up with something interesting to say. Jerking off was the brightest moment of the night. The watch could be divided into two distinct peridos of time - waiting for "your" patrol, which was the part of anticipation, and the part after you discharged, which was boring and seemed logner. With Litwin, at least, we spoke about our urges, which was a nice change - to understand someone in these areas and have no subject off limits. We all have similar needs. We didn't speak about how nice we got off, after we were done, of course. Believe me, jerking off was a routine, since people were doing it all the time and everywhere, it would just be another boring topic. It was more about saying outloud "I hate that bitch but I would forgive her for just this one night". All those years of being a foul mouthed man, locker room talks and parties, but I don't remember ever admitting out loud, in the presence of another man, how much I miss my girl and fucking her, and not with intention of making a silly joke. Except during those talks with Litwin. He understood. And it also wasn't to make ourselves pointlessly horny, it wasn't even a sex talk. It was just about expressing feelings, getting them off chest.
During one of these watches, the most weird and uncomfortable thing happened to me. It happened when I came back to the house after my patrol. I cautiously approached the building, trying to find out if he finished. I've learned already that he needs a little longer than other people I watched the gate with. I saw his face through the window, and he shook his head in a denying gesture, marking that he's not finished, but at the same time, he waved at me calling me to come inside. Before I entered, he already pulled his pants up, so I thought he was finished after all. There was no recognizable smell of semen. He stood up (dressed) and said:
- I am going to approach you for a moment and touch you a little. Don't say anything and make no comments, please.
I started to mumble a little surprised. He came to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and on the other shoulder, he laid his face and gently pushed it against me. I needed to lean for more support, because he put some of his weight on me. My first thought was honestly, that something happened and he was going to tell me about it, some kind of family trouble or something. That he maybe finally found courage to share something that was bothering him, since we became close friends, and he simply needed a hug. I finally got my shit toghether and started saying something, and then:
- Shhh.. just shh.. - he whispered.
Meanwile he pulled his pants down and started masturbating again. I have never had such a confusing situation in my life before. I just stood there like paralyzed. Once I span out of shock, I was worried that we could be seen. I looked around and were calm again - even if something is visible, it is by someone far far away, where it could be hard to determine what was going on. Finally I decided, that as his friend, I should understand and not make a fuss about it. No harm to me. He had a need for a little closeness. Not many friends, girflend left him, noone waiting outside of the unit. I decided to give him what he needs, hold out and keep the thing a secret. I wrapped my hand around his back. The situation at the time was not a pleasant one to me. I would rather not be used this way. I just waited for him to finish. Curiosity had its way however, one second I tried to have a glimpse of him jerking off, but I didn't see anything. He was standing too close to me. He was breathing heavily. Possibly smelling me. I remember his hair smelling like engine oil, no idea why. To this day I can recall that smell like it was yesterday. Finally, he pulled his underpants up:
- Ok, now you can leave for a while.
And thats exactly what I did. And he sat back at the spot in the middle of the desk. This time I was standing close to the house. I saw his arm wanking those last moves, I saw the tempo, but most of all, I saw the pleasure, and I was envious.
I had this text secretly saved for a few years. Added and cut stuff like it was a living diary and I can pick which memories to change. I finally decided to post it. But with this 20k characer limit it is going to be defficult.
