“YESS daddy fuck me!”

“Oooh your cock is so bigggg!”

“Aiii aiiiii aiiiiiiii!”

A high pitched voice echoes through the tent of the commanding officers out into the sweltering desert night. Kaleb listens to it with disdain, as he sits outside the tent waiting for the feast on a man’s asshole to end.

All the stories about the army’s proclivities Kaleb had heard when he entered as a small town hick were not just true, but greatly undersold. Turns out, when locked in a base camp for even three weeks, the straightest, most dominant, masculine men succumb to the pleasure of using another man’s body to relieve themselves of their nut.

Cadets often use each other, laughing and drinking while they mask their desires under jests and pranks and dares to suck each other off. Others recluse themselves while they run a train on the rare known bottom to suck them off discreetly. Just as likely two bunkmates wait until the lights are out in the evening only for the pounding of rock hard stomachs against big soft butts to make the others snicker. Generals and even Lieutenants have more discrepancy, inviting cadets to their private office and either have them bent over, or expose their own holes to be used. Stories of who of their seniors has the bigger cock or juiciest asshole are common talk among the newbies eager to try themselves.

Kaleb hasn’t partaken in any of it. Yes, the first time he and his bunk mates had decided to watch porn together, there had been this seductive energy in the air. As if by intoxication of the smell of each other’s sweat, cock and balls, the most heterosexual male who couldn’t stop boasting about his girlfriends wet pussy back home, was mesmerized into taking off his pants and masturbate with the other men. To participate, nay celebrate their manhoods. So did Kaleb that night. But as the others grew hornier and braver, stroking each other, putting their cocks together or even sucking them, laughing and joking as if that made it any less gay, Kaleb got turned off.

Not because Kaleb isn’t gay. He is. He has always known, ever since he saw the chiseled abs of models in the underwear isle. But perhaps precisely because he is gay this dance of cocks doesn’t interest him. For all these straight men, these activities are part of a deal. Only here. Only locked away from women, with nothing but your mates to get you off, do they engage in pure, unabashed balls and cocks out gay sex. Do they put their bare cocks into clean shaven male mouths and hairy assholes until they cum, fulfilling a strictly biological urge and pleasure. They might as well slap each other’s ass afterwards and say “no homo”.

But for Kaleb, sex with another men means more. It is supposed to mean more. Intimate, loving, soft. Not a bad porno.

And yet, Kaleb endures the most pornographic nights here outside of that tent. See, the most valued piece of ass for army men is that of a local. A beautiful paramour, perhaps even trans, so exotic and foreign, men can never associate it with their heterosexual life back home and easily describe them as a woman.

Sometimes Kaleb thinks the army actively recruits men like this to work as translators or guides. Such is the case with Ahmed, who is currently screaming for more cock, as if he wasn’t already stuffed with at least two at all times.

Ahmed is 27 and gorgeous.

Kaleb noticed him immediately when he first saw him. Black bearded, toned and muscular, but still fairly slender with a feminine figure. And just… beautiful. A more well-groomed, poised, gorgeous man than Kaleb ever saw. Just like everyone else, you wouldn’t say he was into the things he let men do to them. He introduced himself so serious and dominant. But he was into them, he loved sucking cock and getting fucked in the ass. And that made Kaleb, and the rest of the squad, mad with lust.

Ahmed is also an experienced translator and, Kaleb suspected, a covert informant. Key in bringing information about the local warring militant factions to them. Ahmed is highly intelligent and well-spoken, often advising the generals with a keen eye on the true victims of every war; the people.

How could such a man be such a slut?

The screams turned into gurgles as the unmistakable sounds of a man choking on cock reached Kaleb’s ears. His head turns, involuntarily, as curiosity wins over his duty. Through the crack in the tent he sees it. Ahmed in nothing but a bright red thong, on his hands and knees, being surrounded and skewered by cock.

At least a dozen tall, muscular Americans – the Europeans at base camp want less of this lifestyle – surround him with their dicks in hand, ready to go next. For three of them, it is their turn. Lamont, a skinny Afro-American sergeant who is surprisingly strong, thrusts his equally skinny and long cock in Ahmeds behind. The loose asshole, squishy and moist, clinging to the dark pole sliding in and out with ease over a thick, brown one, as Sal, a Latino cadet who is addicted to male ass, lay on his back underneath Ahmed and fucks him in his hole too. Thunk, a tall, sheepish white cadet, who never speaks unless spoken to, is fully naked in front of Ahmed, slowly fucking his face. It is his huge, both in width and length, white cock that makes Ahmed choke and spill slime by the gallons as he forces his small mouth further down that rod.

To Ahmed, three cocks is easy mode. Kaleb has seen him take six once, not counting the ones slapping every inch of his body eager to be next. The officers refer to him as the Sandhole. A fitting, if not slightly offensive name, since Kaleb has seen it on a rare occasion without a cock. Two beautiful perky sandy dunes, round as the moon and the sun, and in between them a black hole the size of a crater in which all light seized to exist. Kaleb swore he could fit his head in there if he wanted to. And to his sorrow, Kaleb has to admit, sometimes he wants to.

To see everyone have gay sex, while you’re the one who actually wants it, is like being a kid on the playground not allowed to play. Most of these guys would never do the things they do here at home, would never dare to tell their wives and girlfriends that during their deployment, they beg their mates to swallow their cum or cum in their ass for hours on end. Let alone that some sleep naked together, showered together, kissed in secret, all under de guise of needing it, but not actually wanting it. Meanwhile Kaleb hasn’t been intimately touched in months.

Yet, he felt it is his duty to be the one to not abuse Ahmed. To have one soldier who holds up his rank and professionalism and treats a colleague with respect. So he offers to be the one to escort Ahmed safely from and to his home in the city.

There’s the army for you. It’s allowed for a whole garrison to run their dicks through a man’s perky cheeks but said man is not allowed to run unescorted through camp. Good as a cum dump but still not trustworthy.

Dawn announces it’s ascent, the pitch black night sky fading into light on the horizon, as Ahmed leaves the tent. The last officer just left five minutes before, nodding with a grin to Kaleb, buckling his belt. It has been an usual long party, meaning most men hadn’t just come in for a quickie, but stayed to prolong their enjoyment. Kaleb always lets Ahmed have a few minutes alone, which he uses, drenched in buckets of cum, to add his own to the mix. The whore never showered, at least not here, letting the cum dry on every inch of him, taking out and licking up the blobs Kaleb pointed out were still in his beard and hair.

“You look angry. Sure you don’t want some relief for once?” Ahmed giggled, as they walk to a truck, with that half sly grin which Kaleb never can decipher is genuine or playful. So instead he says nothing.

They enter the truck and drive off the base. Some of the guys laugh and nod as they let them through, fondly remembering how the content of their nutsack is now either in or on Ahmed. Ahmed blows them a kiss. Kaleb rolls his eyes and looks out of his window.

Up ahead is a long road with the bright lights of the city straight ahead, but on the side there is nothing but mountains, big pointy figures against the starry sky. Kaleb loves driving here.

“It’s fun for me. I enjoy doing it,” Ahmed shocks Kaleb. Usually they stay silent the whole ride. Kaleb looks confused.

“You don’t approve. You don’t have to say it, I get silent disapproval of my mother all day long. But it’s not some sad abuse of the powerful Western army against an innocent, local gay boy. I like doing it. This is fun for me. I would do it with the men I know but it’s tougher getting thirty of them together,” Ahmed continues as he too looks out his window.

“But they don’t… care about you…” Kaleb lets it out before he knows it, more bewildered than judgmental.

“And I care about them?” Ahmed scoffs. “You are Americans. You’re here because you want to be, not because we invited you. At least this way you can be useful to me. I want your cum, not your conversation.”

“They don’t even get you off!” Kaleb rebuts, more angrily than he can justify.

“If you got laid, maybe you’d know there’s more to sex than just the cumming,” Ahmed raises his voice now too. They never spoke, not like this, not ever, and yet here they are, angry at each other.

For a good twenty minutes nobody utters a word and they both stare at the empty road ahead. Until finally Kaleb surrenders.

“I’ve gotten laid. Not here. Not recently. But back home,” he sighed. “It was awesome!”

It wasn’t awesome. He knew he was gay. The girl, Macy, knew he was gay. But they both wanted to lose their virginity considering they were already 18 and it wasn’t happening with men. Kaleb had gotten hard and fucked her, even kissed her softly as he fingered her, made her come, but he hadn’t enjoyed it.

“Sounds like you made it up. I bet you’ve never fucked anyone. Properly fucked. Fuck someone like me who could make you see more stars than there are outside,” Ahmed says biting yet with a soft melody in his insults. Kaleb can’t help but laugh.

“And you’ve never been fucked by someone like me. Someone who thinks of you, wants to take care of you, hold you, love you, make you moan not like you’re acting but from the depths of your soul until you feel fulfilled by one cock instead of a hundred.” Kaleb isn’t usually this descriptive, but he means every word.

Again silence, though this time it is shorter and Ahmed takes the initiative. “I’ve had sex like that once. Almost. Kind of. His name was Tahir, my neighborhood boy. I was in love with him. But he was straight, of course. At a sleepover he climbed into my bed and fucked me. It was the most magical moment of my life. I never would’ve needed any other cock after that. He didn’t touch me in that way, but he kissed me and made love to me. But the next morning… he pretended nothing happened.”

Ahmed looks away, pained by the memory.

“That doesn’t sound like love,” Kaleb mutters softly. He doesn’t dare to look at Ahmed, but suddenly he understands him so much better. You can keep looking for love like he does, but what if you never find it? Maybe fun is all there is?

He parks as prescribed three blocks from Ahmeds apartment. The boys exchange a look of gratitude, before Ahmed walks off, changing his mannerisms and hip swaying into the sturdy, straightened-back man Kaleb knows. Kaleb watches him go and for the first time in his life, he feels flutters in his stomach.

****

“Hansen, get the fuck up, report immediately. Buster needs you!” The knocking sounds like bombs dropping in the depth of night. According to training Kaleb is awake and on the floor in less than a second, putting on his clothes. He ignores Jackson and Steve naked in the lower bunk, snickering as they almost got caught, the smell of each other’s cocks still on their breath.

Kaleb runs through the encampment. Buster is a nickname of Colonel Brock Thompson, a ball buster straight out of the movies and the one man who must never find out everyone else at camp is a cocksucker and ass fucker. He scares Kaleb. Still, the young soldier runs bravely into the office and reports for duty.

In the office, a huge makeshift room with wooden walls and plates for floors, but rows of archives and maps on the wall, a group of people has gathered. The entire chain of command, and in the middle… Ahmed.

“You!! Him!! He knows, tell them, tell them to listen to me!” Ahmed points at Kaleb pleadingly, though what Kaleb knows he can not say.

“Take him home,” Buster says, waving Ahmed off like a waiter.

“You have to listen to me, they’re planning something. Something is coming. Officials of all factions are meeting, they have been for weeks, they’re planning an attack, something!” Ahmed’s voice is pleading, but ever commanding and serious as he is during the day, nothing like the high-pitched faggot that screams for cock in the night.

“And what? We must go into high alert, potentially escalating the situation based off on rumors? From a… translator?” A man next to Buster says.

Kaleb looks over to him, Colonel Gerson, nearing forty but in the prime of his physique. Kaleb has seen him fuck Ahmed in every position imaginable, even suck a few cadets in the process. Always moaning like a grandpa when he finally climaxes, cringing pathetically as if he is having a stroke. Kaleb knows Gerson just swallowed the word “whore” in time. All those hours inside of Ahmed and not an ounce of trust or respect to show for it.

“None of our other informants have reported this, sir,” another officer says to Buster.

Ahmed looks panicked at every man who he has taken inside, over and over, save for Buster, in desperation. But he resigns to the fact his words don’t matter. Kaleb knows Ahmed knows he has no concrete evidence, nothing substantial these officers can give to higher up. Whore or not, the warnings of an untrained civilian mean very little.

Ahmed nods and sighs. “At least ready the planes. Just in case they come for you here.” With that last gesture he turns around and walks past Kaleb, who follows him outside.

“Wait, wait up!” Kaleb runs after Ahmed, who is kicking dirt up in frustration as he marches across the make-shift square. Ahmed stops and looks at him, embarrassed and tired.

“Just bring me home,” he sighed.

“Thank you. For warning us. They may not show it in there, but they won’t forget this. If something is coming, they’ll be ready, I promise,” Kaleb says, in equal agony of seeing Ahmed like this.

“I never asked for your name. I realized I didn’t know it in there,” Ahmed says.

“It’s Hansen. The name is Hansen,” Kaleb said. Until Ahmed raises his eyebrows and looks at Kalebs name tag on his jacket which already says so.

“Oh, right, sorry. Kaleb. It’s Kaleb…” Kaleb isn’t sure why he stuttered.

Ahmed’s confidence returns in his face, as he regains his poster and serenity, smiling gratefully at Kaleb and stepping forward. With force, Ahmed plants his lips on Kaleb, who freezes in shock. But as Ahmed soft, wet lips refuse to move, Kaleb relaxes and kisses him back, with a strong force, rejoicing in his first man on man kiss ever.

Kaleb tries to pull Ahmed closer, for he can kiss him forever, but Ahmed pulls away.

“Thank you for believing me, Kaleb,” Ahmed whispers. He walks to the truck. Kaleb is dumbfounded and in heaven at the same time.

Nothing happens during the whole ride or at their goodbye, though Ahmed smiles knowingly at Kaleb, which he can’t decipher as mockery or sincerity still. As Kaleb drives back to camp, however, he is happier than ever. A young buck, darting through the woods.

***

It happens within hours. You don’t think it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. But it can. Every city in the world, however modern, however advanced, can fall within hours. Local governments swept away, its streets barren and taken over by tanks, its servants rounded up like cattle. People live in this state of safety that their homes, their loved ones, their institutions are permanent. But all can be lost within hours.

The camp was in disarray. Men running everywhere, trucks nearly hitting them. And in the distance, planes taking off. Kaleb runs across camp in a long row of soldiers carrying the necessities and loading them into trucks, who then will bring them to the planes. Files, ammunition, anything that cannot get into enemy hands. Everything that stays, is put to the torch.

The thing Ahmed warned for, is far worse than even he had known. The warring military factions joined together to oust the government. And with them, the allied forces. It is now a matter of life and death. Either get out fast, or brace for the firing squad. Against several bands of untrained soldiers a delegation of the U.S. army stands tall. Against a unified army, who holds power over the entire country, they are vastly outnumbered. The commander in chief, weary of another war this close to elections, ordered their extraction. And so Kaleb runs, as fast as he can, affirming to himself that he’ll be fine, they won’t leave a man behind.

On his thirteenth trip back, Kaleb notices something in the distance. A black haze moving closer to them. And then he sees. Civilians. Hundreds of them. On foot. Running for their escape. Desperate to flee to America and not live under military or fascist rule. And that’s when it strikes Kaleb. Ahmed.

Kaleb runs to the office and bursts in.

“The translators. We need to get the translators!”

“Get the fuck out, who the fuck do you think you are!” A younger sergeant scowls at him. Buster looks up, vaguely remembering the soldier from the night before.

“We are to extract all American military personnel. Get to your assigned post, kid, this is no time for heroes” Buster says, looking back over at maps, calculating where the enemy is coming from.

Kaleb runs to Gerson and breaks all protocol by grabbing his vest.

“They’ll execute them. They’ll be seen as traitors. As corroborators. They’ll be put to death or worse. We can’t leave them. You can’t just leave him!” Kaleb pleads, looking into he eyes of the man who has been with Ahmed more intimately than he ever will, and seeing nothing.

“Get your hands off me, or we will leave you too,” Gerson whispers fuming.

Kaleb wants to punch him, rattle him, plead to him on his knees, suck his cock if necessary until he spasms, anything to stop this madness. But it’s no use, Kaleb knows. This is not an original story. We come to these countries, we ask people to betray their countrymen, their brothers, their friends, and then we abandon them.

As if awoken, Kaleb looks around at the men who have all carried on in their distress. Not a fucking person cares about the man who warned them for all of this.

Kaleb runs out of the office.

The first people have gotten to the gate. Hundreds more are storming this way in the distance. Hands burst through wires, begging to come inside.

Kaleb runs to his truck and drives towards the masses. A brave soldier jumps in front of him waving him to stop. The gates aren’t opening. Kaleb spots an empty part and makes a sharp turn, narrowly missing the soldier. He accelerates and drives straight into the fence, bending the wire to his will, the sharp pins no match for the thick wheels.

The truck drives away and in his rearview Kaleb sees how dozens of men, women and the occasional child run over the fence into the camp. Good.

No one wants to board a truck going in the wrong direction and so Kaleb has free reign over the road, passing by hundreds of people, who carry very little belongings. It’s fear, pure fear, that set them on a road that may lead nowhere.

Kaleb wonders. What have they accomplished here? What is it all for?

The city is dead. Everyone’s either running or inside, awaiting the orders of a new regime. People think of war as guns blazing and bombs dropping but that is really only a small part. Most of war is waiting. Waiting for death or freedom. And in some cases, too often really in the past, both.