PAST LIFE DIARY 2 - Story 414 - In the army (Jeremy)

IN THE ARMY (Jeremy)

I'm looking up at the light on the gray ceiling in the corridor outside of the toilet, feeling completely calm, not thinking. We all take it. It keeps us focused. Even Captain Laurel takes some in what he calls "these trying times". We smoke in the toilet - we call it the piss hole. I enter with someone else. We each have one draw, and then pass it on to the next candidates. We get it over with quickly and methodically during those few minutes when our supervising officer is gone for a pee himself. We know their schedule, but it's not always reliable, so sometimes we need to improvise.

Another scene:

I see a grayish blue coverall hanging up in a room. It's a small room in the officers' building. I'm here to clean the place. A woman is here. She's the wife of one of the officers. She's rather young compared to her husband, perhaps in her thirties. Another man, a chubby, middle-aged ginger, is by one of the windows. The woman is quite obviously keeping an eye on me. I know to keep quiet and only talk when she calls me. She calls me by my first name, – we're usually addressed by our surnames – then corrects herself with the more formal "Private Jeremy", asking me to clean up the patch on floor in front of her. It appears to be sticky from spilling some sugary drink or so. She then talks to the other guy, saying that it was filthy and sticky. She's smoking now, waiting for her husband, obviously worried cause he's late. I tell myself it ain't none of my business, and remind myself that I got a family of my own.

Upon completing my work, she, to my surprise, thanks me and hands me some money. I look at the other guy to know if it's okay for me to accept the money. He waves his hand as if to say he doesn't care and won't tell. It's against the rules, though. The woman then touches (or almost touches) my right cheek, and comments about me to the other guy about how skinny I am. "Why, you're just skin and bones, Jeremy" she adds. "Thank you, thank you" she then says, dismissing me from my task. I formally bow my head and take a step back before turning around to leave.

It's dark outside. I can't believe I'm done already. I thought I'd be here much longer. I imagine Charles is lying in bed, waiting for me. To my surprise, I find him standing outside, leaning against a wall. We don't speak. We just leave, the gravel crunching beneath our feet. He walks to my right, and puts his hand on my butt. Knowing that it's dark enough not be noticed if anyone else happens to be here, gives me a wonderful sense of privacy. I let him do, feeling more and more aroused myself, to the point of going stiff and having to stop. I grab his arm to let him know I need him to stop. An officer appears - our sergeant, I guess, but it's too dark to be sure – so, he puts his hand on my back, almost challenging the risk involved. We turn in unison to greet the officer as well as to hide our backs from him. The officer seems to be somewhat intoxicated and responds quite informally, then leaves. "Jeremy" Charles suddenly says, low voiced, "What if we was white fellas?" "We ain't white fellas" I matter-of-factly respond. I assume he's reflecting on the fact that the sergeant is quite lenient with us when he's off duty. I don't think he has a point; we're still just youngsters in comparison. If he's lenient, it's just cause he's tired of being stern; the man hollers a lot during the day! We're allowed to walk around at night in pairs - or more, but no more than four - to smell fresh air. That's way less entertainment than the "other fellas" (i.e. the white soldiers) are allowed. That ain't all bad cause they bring us cigarettes from outside. No alcohol, though. They'd get in trouble for that. Suddenly, Charles pulls me by the hand and into a dark corner where he quickly and firmly grabs me, and kisses me on the mouth. Startled as I am, I don't kiss back, but I like it… I think. It feels different to kiss someone whose mouth is bigger than my own. He keeps standing there, waiting. Should I? Dark as it is, I reach out my hand and navigate around his lower parts, touching his abdomen, upon which he promptly grabs my wrist. "Jeremy" he says. I can tell from his voice that he's ticklish. "Another kiss?" I say, then lean forward and kiss him, though not nearly as long and warm as he kissed me. "I love ya" he whispers. I grab him around the neck in an embrace, and we just stand here for a while.

After that night, we do this as often as the opportunity presents itself. We don't get much chance to be alone like that, though. First of all, it's not always our turn to do "patrol". Sometimes at night in bed in the dark, I reach out my arm, and he reaches out his, and we touch fingers. He keeps me company. It hasn't been our turn for patrol for quite some time. We missed a turn as a penalty for some cigarette incident. Charles refused to say who brought in the cigarettes. We all know he's the one that went and got them from the white soldier who uses a code name for the transaction. Charles trades pinup cards which he has in double, sometimes even triple, in exchange for cigarettes. Not having had the chance for some private time together, we exchange a glance. It's quick, but intense and intimate. It means something, though I'm not sure what. I guess it means "I love you".

One day in the barrack, Feliz confronts us about it, asking if we are brothers or something since we are all "amigo" with each other. Charles, rather high at the time, exclaims: "He's my babyyyyyy!" I smile and shrug at Feliz. I guess he got his answer. It's only curiosity on his part, nothing more. Another guy, apparently irritated, comments, saying we have to keep it "in the sheets" cause otherwise the whole unit is gonna be seen as "dirty men" and he can't afford that type of rumor to reach his mother. Furthermore, it would ruin his engagement with his fiancee. I give Charles a look of caution.

We lay low after that. Next time, when it's our turn to clean the shower room at night… "Meet me there" he said. It all makes my heart pound really fast, but it's a great distraction from the army life. Charles is already here when I enter the place. The light is on. He gives me a look, indicating that someone else is here, a white guy cleaning with a broom. The guy doesn't seem happy about it, obviously having been given the extra task as a penalty. We don't talk with him, nor he with us. I guess he's in enough trouble as it is. We just do our work, but keep looking at each other, deep and intense, my eyes rolling down along his body as if to say "I'm waiting for you" or "consider it done". I can tell Charles is annoyed at the situation, though. We finish our work and leave. "Night, Stan!" Charles shouts. The guy, too shy - and perhaps too tired - only replies with a soft grunt. He's probably sentenced to spend the whole night here.

Another scene:

I see a wooden plank over a narrow body of water, like a ditch. We're outside, outside of the base. I'm standing on my own with my hands behind my back. Meanwhile, my mind is blank, except that I feel somewhat ecstatic at the lingering memory of what happened yesterday between Charles and me. I'm feeling real tired in my lower back, but I'm on duty to stand guard nowadays and have to keep standing like this for however long I'm required to. My hair is freshly trimmed and shorter than I'm used to.

Another scene:

I'm standing in the corridor by door of the toilet, this time keeping guard while the other soldiers from our unit use the toilet one by one. There's only one toilet for all us. The door opens, and a guy comes out, along with the smell of poop. I'm counting in my head. Fifteen men used to toilet, and twenty more to go. One of my supervisors comes to the front door - it's standing open - and tells me to go stand outside. Someone else takes over the surveillance from me. I go out, slightly limping, and stand by the wall next to the doorway. The bottom of my right foot is hurting and, with it, my lower back, so I shift my weight to my left, but then almost fall through my knee. One of the supervisors notices and tells me to go sit on the bench. It's a wooden bench by the side of the wall, looking out into the courtyard. He stands in front of me with his back turned towards me. He doesn't talk, and neither do I. He's not actually a commanding officer, just one of the white soldiers who has been put to the task of supervising me as I supervise the "toilet round". After a while, he turns around and offers me a cigarette, casting swift glances around to see if anyone's around, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He turns around and lights his own but doesn't light mine, and I don't carry any matches with me. What am I supposed to do - chew it? I imagine doing just that and then swallowing it. It would probably be very dry in my throat. Turns out he's just cautious, making sure the coast is clear. He swiftly turns around and bends over to light my cigarette and says: "Keep it down." It tastes different from any brands I'm used to smoking. Not long after, there's a sound outside the door of the courtyard, so we both quickly dispose of our burning cigarette, mine only about a third gone. I dig mine with my left foot into the sandy soil where it's easy to hide. A middle-aged officer comes in from the right. "Richards!" he says. The other soldier explains that I'm "a little faint". I'm given leave from the upcoming exercise routine.

I'm taken back to the barrack with the help of Charles and the soldier who gave me a cigarette. I lie down on the bottom bunk where Feliz normally sleeps, the bed below Charles's. The other guys go off for exercise, and I fall asleep, my arms over my head.

When I wake up, I find one other guy at the far end of the room. He's a tall fella, taller and darker than Charles, standing by his bed, folding something, and looking at me. I then find Feliz at the foot of the bed, asking if I'm better. He doesn't need to tell me that he has a pretty good suspicion about why I'm sore and faint today. "Did you have a good time last night?" he says, with a half naughty smile. "Excellent" I say, with a chuckle. I see him trying to stifle his smile as he turns his head away and gets up. The tall, dark guy turns out to be here cause he's been sentenced to some specific duty. Feliz was just sent in between routines to check on me. After he leaves, the other guy makes me some coffee on a small stove with one burner. He brings it over and sits down on the other bed, the one below the top bunk where I usually sleep. With a serious, almost worried expression in his face, he starts introducing a question he wants to ask about me and Charles - whom he respectfully calls "Mr. Jameson" though his last name is James. I know, the same question everybody seems to have: If Charles and I are cousins. He asks me what's going on with the two of us. "Nothin'" I say. "You're the girl?" he says. "I'm the girl" I confirm. He's not a very expressive man, but he shakes his head and chuckles. We call him Hercules or Herk, though I'm not so sure he likes either of those names. His real name's John. Charles's nickname in our group is "big fella". The other guys come in, back from whatever they were doing, and the conversation is over.

Q: Show me what happened last night between you and Charles.

He gripped me hard, caught me by surprise. We were patrolling together. It happens every other week or so, a little more than two weeks actually. It's mostly done for training, a mere matter of protocol since this place is not suspected of being in any danger. The same goes for standing guard. It's just a part of training, nothing more - at this point, anyway. Whatever sounds we make, nobody minds, and everybody else is glad to stay in bed themselves – none of us are getting much time for sleep to begin with - rather than check up on the guys that are on night duty. We're by a wooden fence, a dark spot, hidden from sight and light. He makes a short but strange sound. I feel the energy rushing through my entire body. I didn't expect it to feel this wonderful. Is this how women feel? - I wonder. The feeling stays with me for a long time, lingering, but I feel weak in my lower back. We could easily do this again, having found the right time and place where we wouldn't be disturbed. It becomes an unspoken agreement.

Q: Did you do it again?

Jeremy: We did it three times.

He did me twice, and now it's my turn, but I can't get stiff enough, so he turns around and we rub up against each other, my arousal increasing quickly. I anticipate feeling our sperm running simultaneously, but I ejaculate first. He then comes around me from the back, rubs against the mid-section of my balls from the back, this causing me great delight, and finishes inside of me, quite roughly. Jeremy: That was the time I was faint and limping afterwards.