From Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org Fri Dec 13 05:06:40 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Shitty Viet Nam enema bag story
From: Tommy@f26.n340.z1.fidonet.org
Date: Fri, 13 Dec 96 03:06:40 -0800

The THC Adult Text Archive: ENEMABAG.DOC (555 lines)
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Doc's Little Red Bag

by Chris Enama

     Even your best buddies can surprise you sometimes. Like
Kent.  We were doing pitchers at the vets post, recalling
some of the crazy things that had happened in Nam.
     "Remember that scam that Sgt. Spada used to run on the
fuckin' new guys?" I said with a grin.
     "The one where he'd get 'em real worried about shittin'
their drawers if the LZ got attacked at night?" Kent asked.
"Then he'd let 'em know he was a medic .  .  ."
     ". . .yeah, the good 'ol Doc who could take care of 'em
with his enema bag before they'd rack out?" My grin was now a
leer.
     "Remember, hell," Kent blushed.  "The mother-fucker got
away with that one on me the first night I was at the LZ."
     "You're shittin' me!"  I must have looked like I
couldn't believe it.  My curiosity was up, though.  Rumors
about Doc had floated around the platoon, but I'd never
played any of his games myself.  Kent and I had become real
asshole buddies over there, though, and I didn't think there
was much he'd done that I hadn't done with him or at least
heard about.
     "You?" I said.  "You never told me that."
     "Guess not.  Wasn't somethin' I wanted advertized,
Glen, ya know?  I'm sure I wasn't the first asshole he got
to, but I felt a little dumb about it after."  He stared into
his empty mug for a minute, and neither of us said anything.
"I gotta go piss."
     "So do it."
     When he came back, he resettled himself on the bar stool
like he was still thinkin' about it.  After a few seconds, he
leaned towards me.
     "Ya know somethin'?  I never thought I'd tell anybody
this.  Even you.  Must be the beer."
     "Maybe you just can't hold it like you used to."
     "Fuck you, ol' buddy."
     "Fuck yourself." I paused. "So ya gonna tell me
somethin', or what?"
     "Well, like I said, I felt kinda dumb after.  But ya
know . . . while we were doin' it . . . it didn't feel so
bad."
     I figured I could ride him a bit.  "O come on.  What're
you talkin' about?  A fuckin' enema?"
     "Look, I'm not sayin' it ain't a little, ya know, kinky.
But it was, well, like excitin', too.  Ya know, like sexy
almost."
     "Sure.  A fuckin' enema."
     "Hey, Glen, I was a fuckin' new guy.  I was scared.  I
didn't know anybody and I just got dumped out of the world
and shoved into this for-shit hole in the boonies.  I was
alone and I was lost and I was scared, ok?  Maybe I was
fuckin' dumb, too, but I was scared."
     "OK, you were scared.  So was I.  So was every fuckin'
grunt at the LZ.  You would've been an even bigger asshole if
you hadn't been scared."
     "Yeah, right, but at least you guys like already knew
each other.  I didn't know nobody.  It sucked, man."
     I reached out and put one arm around his shoulder as I
refilled his mug from the pitcher.  Nobody wanted to be a
fuckin' new guy.  He drank some and took a breath.
     "So it's gettin' dark, and Doc Spada sees me haulin' my
gear to the hooch.  And he comes over, friendly like, and he
introduces himself.  Asks where I'm from, all that shit.  And
he tells me not to worry too much.  'Every mother-fuckin'-
bastard here was a fuckin' new guy once', he says.  'Even me.
Don't mean shit.  You'll learn'."
     I was floatin' with the beer.  "Great guy," I hear
myself say.  "Ol' Doc was just a grrr-eat fuckin' guy."
     "Go fuck yourself, GI.  Ya wanna hear about this or
not?"
     "Your story, man. Tell it like it was."
     "So like now, he's fuckin' with my head real good, ya
know.  Like every fuckin' thing he says to make me feel
better is makin' me feel like shit.  Like I don't know what
I'm doin'. And like I'm not gonna live long enough in this
fuckin' hole to ever know what I'm doin'."
     "Bummer," I say, "a fuckin' bummer.  So what'd he say to
you?"
     "Jeez, like that's what I been tryin' to tell ya, Glen.
Like he's really fuckin' with my head, ya know.  Like 'Kent,
my man, let me tell ya', he whispers -- like it's our secret,
'there's some boys, Kent, they get out here they's so scared
they's about ready to shit their pants first time Charlie
drops a couple, few rounds on us.
     "'Now, I know you ain't like that.  I can tell.  Your
shit's stacked.  You got it together.  But I seen some a
these boys . . '.
     "Then he leans in a little closer."  Kent leaned into me
and put his arm around my shoulder to demonstrate.  It felt
good.  More like the buddies we were.
     "So Doc says, 'There's this kid come in three months
ago.  I knowed he was scared near shitless.  Ol' Doc could
see it.  Wouldn't let me talk to him like we's talkin' here,
nice like.  No, sir.  Just kept to hisself.  Wouldn't let me
help.  Had his asshole shut so tight, don't think he even
farted for three days.  I knew he's headin' for trouble, but
like I say he wouldn't listen to ol' Doc.
     "'Sure enough, third night, he's on guard duty in the
bunker.  Charlie comes by.  Drops about forty rounds on us to
say hello.  You guessed it.  Our boy fills his pants like
he's been savin' it for a week.  Guys in the bunker with him
are on his case soon as the last round dropped.
     "'Tell him how bad he stinks.  Make him strip to his
boots on the spot and march him across the LZ to the latrine.
Ol' Doc ain't shittin' ya.  Whole bunch of guys saw 'em do
it.  Make him throw away his pants and his shorts, wipe his
ass with his shirt and socks, and throw them in after.
Probably lucky they didn't throw him in, too.'
     "'When they got him back to his hooch, though, they took
one of his towels and made him wear it like a diaper.  For a
week.  And he had to let them inspect it twice a day to make
sure he'd kept it clean.  They even escorted him to the
latrine every day and made sure he did his business.'"
     I remembered the guy as Kent was talkin'.  Real baby
face.  Lowe, I think his name was.  Looked like he'd be a kid
forever.  He'd had a rough start with the platoon.  I hadn't
been in the group in the bunker, but I talked to a couple of
the guys after.  In the end, they'd turned him into a decent
enough grunt.  Think he even made it back to the world.
     "When Doc got to that part of his story, he just paused
and sighed.  'That poor fucker sure learned his lesson the
hard way.  And ya know, Kent, he didn't have to'.  He looked
at me carefully.  'He could've spared hisself, if he'd just
listened to ol' Doc.  I tried to help him.'
     "Let me tell ya, Glen, that fuckin' Strada had me sucked
in real good.  Like I'd bust if I didn't know. I had to ask.
'Well what could you of done?' And he told me.  Not pushin'
me.  No, not at all.  It had to be my choice.  I could be
like that flakey shit who'd messed his pants and fucked
himself with the whole platoon.  Or I could show I had my
shit stacked.  I could listen to ol' Doc."
     I could see that Strada knew how to work.  I couldn't
blame Kent for goin' along with him.  I might have done the
same thing.  I poured us each another glass from the pitcher,
killing it.  "Yeah, the way you say it, it don't sound like
much of a choice."
     "I sure didn't think so at the time.  And that mother-
fucker made it real easy, ya know?  "'Listen, Kent, it ain't
hard. I got the gear over in sick bay.  It's clean.  It's
ready for ya'.
     "I must have looked so dumb.  But he just took his time
and laid it out for me.
     "'Come over before you're ready to rack out.  It'll be
dark enough.  We can be quiet.  Nobody'll care.  We go
inside.  It just takes a minute or two to put a little salt
in the water and fill the bag.  You don't even have to take
off your pants.  Just, ya know, drop 'em a little.  You relax
on the bunk for a few minutes while I take care of you.  No
noise.  When we're done, you slip out to take care of your
business.  I clean up the gear, and who's to know?  What
could be more natural?
     "'And you'll sleep better.  Doc's word.  You won't have
to worry.  Fuckin' A.  Once ol' Doc's taken care of you,
there's no way ya can mess up.  Charlie can drop a round
whenever he wants, and your shit's stacked.'
     "I tell ya, Glen, when that mother-fucker put it to me
like that . . . fuckin' aye, it made sense.  Like real
personal insurance.  Shit, man, he made it sound like part of
the drill -- like military fuckin' preparedness.  Fuck you,
Charlie, come an' get me.  My shit is stacked tight."
     I had to admit, Kent had me interested.  Like I wanted
to know how it had felt, just what they'd done.  All the
dirty details.  I drained my glass.  "So you guys did it?
Just like he said?"
     "Well yeah, we did it.  I already told ya we did.  But
here's the real weird part."
     "Whatta ya mean . . . weird?"  I felt my crotch clench a
little.  Kent and me had gotten real tight in Nam.  Hell,
we'd jacked off together more than once or twice.  But we'd
never tried anthing too kinky.  Weird wasn't part of what'd
made us buddies.  So I was lookin' at him like puzzled.
     He tried to drink from his own empty glass.  "Another
pitcher?  I'm buyin'."
     "Sure.  I gotta hear the rest of this."  I took a
breath.  "Just save my seat.  My bladder's bustin'.  When I
got back, the pitcher had arrived, and Kent had refilled our
glasses.  He looked like he was ready to go on.
     "So tell me about weird," I said.
     "Well, I thanked ol' Doc and told him I wanted to think
about it a bit.  And he said sure, no problem, he'd walk me
over to the mess tent and introduce me to some of you guys."
     "Yeah, I remember. That's when I met ya and found out
we'd be in the same hooch."  I remembered, too, that he'd
looked younger than me, even though he wasn't.  But he had a
ready smile, and I'd already seen enough of Nam to look a
couple of years older than I was.  Even as a fuckin' new guy,
though, Kent was somebody I'd thought I'd get to like.
     "Right.  So he leaves me with you guys and says I know
where to find him if I wanna talk to him later."
     "And you did?"
     "Yeah, I did.  After dinner.  Said I'd like to meet him
later . . . for what he'd been talkin' about.  That I
thought, like, it'd be a good idea."
     I felt a little tingle in my groin.  I glanced around
the bar, but no one else was interested or even close enough
to hear.  "So you'd decided that you'd do it?"
     Kent nodded.  "It must have been like ten, ten-fifteen
that night.  I tried actin' like nothin special was
happenin', but I could tell I wasn't quite so easy as I
wanted to be.  I mean I told myself it made sense -- what I
was doin'.  But it seemed, maybe a little twisted -- like
boonie rules had taken over while my head was still back in
the world."
     I watched as a fine line of bubbles floated from the
bottom of my beer to the top and disappeared.  "I hear ya,
GI. I think every fuckin' new guy feels that when the boonies
get him the first time.  I been there."
     "So Doc's waitin' for me when I get to his hooch.  He
takes me to the end where his room is.  Gives me a Bud while
he gets out the bag and stuff.  And like, I don't know
whether I should be watchin' him or not, and I'm tryin' to be
cool, but I think I'm drinkin' the beer like too fast or
somethin'.
     "He must've known I was feelin antsy.  So he starts
talkin' to me. In one hand, he's got this red rubber bag,
ya know, with a hose at one end.  At the end of the hose is
this black nozzle, maybe the size of my finger, that he's
holdin' in his other hand.
     "'See, Kent', he says.  'I just fill this bag with some
bottled water.  About two quarts.  Room temperature, so it
may feel cool at first.  Then I add a couple spoons of salt,
shake it a bit, and hang it by my bunk'.  He pointed with the
nozzle.
     "'Now over on the crate by the bunk is a tube of KY that
I use to lube up the nozzle.  Ya might want me to insert a
bit of that in ya, too, so this thing'll slip in smooth and
easy, like.'
     "I nodded and took another quick sip on the Bud.  He
takes one of those big jars like they used to turn upside
down for the water coolers -- I can still see it, heavy glass
--and pours some of it into a metal pitcher.  Then he pours
the pitcher into the rubber bag.  He adds a couple spoons of
salt and shakes the bag for about thirty seconds.  Then he
holds it out to me and asks me if I wanted to shake it some
more.  I tell him, nah, he knows what he's doin', and I kill
the beer.
     "He hangs the bag on a nail by the bunk, opens the tube
of KY and starts spreadin' it on the nozzle.  'Any time
you're ready', he says.  'Just take off your boots, and climb
up on the bunk.  Get on your hands and knees so your head's
toward the foot, ok?  Ya want me to take down your pants, or
would ya rather do that yourself?'
     "I told him I'd do it and got in position like he'd
said.  The flat spring on the bed squeeked a bit as I got
on it, but I balanced myself and got ready to undo my pants.
I remember thinkin' that I was glad there wasn't much light
in the room 'cause I was really blushin' at that point.  I
don't think I'd felt that shy since the first time I lost at
strip poker, you know?
     "Anyway, I told myself, I might as well get on with it
to get the job done.  So I loosened my buckle, pulled out the
end of the web belt, and unbuttoned the fly on my fatigues.
He just stood by the bed like plenty of guys had dropped
their pants for him before -- no big deal at all.  I'm sure I
wasn't the first.  I hooked my thumbs inside my briefs and
pushed them and my pants down towards my knees.
     "'Is this far enough?' I asked.
     "'Should be.  Get down on all fours, and try spreadin'
your knees as far as ya can.'  I did.  I tried real hard not
to think about how I must've looked."
     I didn't say anything to Kent, but I had a pretty good
idea.  He'd had a nice, lean body with a firm, white ass.
I'd seen him naked nearly every day over there and had held
him close during a few firefights, too.  I could feel my dick
startin' to stir, and I reached down as casually as I could
to adjust it inside my pants.
     Kent went on like he hadn't noticed.  "Doc took the
pillow from the head of the bed and put it in front of me.
'Here, hug this to get your shoulders down, and rest your
head on it.  That should give me the best position for your
other end.  All right . .  .  looks good.  Ready for some KY?
     "'Uh-huh.'  I could feel the sweat beading on my ass and
trickling into my crack.  I had hardly any hair back there,
and it tickled as it ran down."
     I was feelin' a tad warmer myself.  I took another sip
of my beer.
     "So Doc says, 'OK, here it is.' With one hand, he spread
my cheeks a little.  Then I felt the slightly cool lube as
his finger spread it into the sweat on the rim of my asshole.
I twitched.
     "'Easy does it, guy.  I want to work some of this
inside.'  His finger pressed, and the muscle there contracted
more tightly.
     "'Easy . . .'  He brushed his finger around the rim
for a minute or so, until it started to feel warm and the
muscle relaxed slightly.
     "'That's better . . . just relax . . '.  He pressed
slowly again, gradually forcing the muscle to give way and
admit the tip of his finger.
     "'Real good . . .' He worked the finger in just a bit
more, then eased it out.
     Damn!  Kent's details were gettin' me horny!  Him and me
had never tried any shit like that, but I knew how appealing
his ass looked.  It was easy for me to imagine Doc settin'
him up for the next best thing to a fuck with his finger.  I
wondered what my own odds were as my dick swelled up in my
pants.
     "I didn't realize," Kent was sayin', "that I'd been
holdin' my breath until Doc asked me not to. 'It just makes
you more tense,' he told me.  'Try  breathin' natural.  I
want to apply a bit more of this lube, OK?
     "'Uh-huh.
     "Once again I twitched as the cool lube touched my ass.
Did ya ever realize, Glen, just how twitchy, like, that spot
can be?  But this time, the KY that was already there made it
easier.  Pretty soon, he had his finger in twice as far.  And
with the third dab, he was slidin' it in all the way, even
workin' it around a bit."
     "I could feel my muscles there like huggin' on to him.
Kinda pushin' against him as he pushed in, but not quite
lettin' go as he pulled back.  Before I realized it, he had a
little rhythm goin' back there.  Then it hit me that I was
startin' to like how this felt.  Soon as I did, my muscles
gripped his finger tighter."
     As Kent  went on, I found myself shifting on my stool,
tryin' to ease the strain in my briefs.  I don't think I'd
expected to be as turned on as I was.
     "'You OK?' Doc says.  'Let me know if this is botherin'
ya.'
     "'Uh, it just feels, like, funny, ya know?  I'm not used
to havin' somebody poke me this way.  It doesn't really feel
bad . . . just weird.'  Actually, like I said, I was almost
startin' to enjoy it.  The warmth back there felt like it
might be spreadin', and I started to wonder what might happen
if the good news reached my dick."
     "Jeez." I said,  "I didn't think you'd get turned on
like that.  I mean, ol' Doc was practically fuckin' ya with
his finger."
     I must have sounded a little excited through the beer.
Kent looked at me for a second or two -- tryin' to see if I
thought he was a pervert or something.  I tried to smile a
bit, so he'd feel OK about it.  I knew he wanted to tell me
the rest of this.  And I sure wanted to hear it.
     "I guess I should of been more surprised," he said, "but
I was tryin' not to think about it -- bein' up on this bunk
with my pants down and some guy's finger up my ass -- it
wasn't an image I'd had of myself, ya know?  So I just kind
of let it go on without really concentratin' on it.  Just
lettin' the good feeling back there feel good.  That was
enough.
     "After a few minutes, I was almost sorry when Doc said,
'Think we got enough KY in ya'?  You should be ready for the
water now.'
     "'Uh, sure.  Things seem to be movin' real smooth back
there just now.'
     "'Good.  This'll feel a bit stiffer than my finger, but
it's lubed pretty good, and it should slip in easy enough.
Ready?'
     "'Uh-huh.  Like, just take it slow, ya know.  I'm still
gettin' used to this.'
     "'You got it.  You're doin' real good, let me tell ya'.
I can see you're gonna have an easy time of it.  Here goes.'
     "Once again, I felt his hand spread my cheeks slightly.
Then I felt the tip of the nozzle right at the rim of my
asshole.  He kinda used the tip to push the muscle aside on
the right, and -- howdy, neighbor -- it was slidin' into me
smooth and slow and steady.  It didn't flex the way his
finger did, ya' know, but it was thinner.  I remember bein'
surprised at the different things I could feel in there."
     As Kent said that, I tried to remember what it had felt
like the two or three times my father had given me an enama
as a kid.  I'm sure my butt had been smaller and the nozzle
felt bigger, not at all comfortable.  Not the kind of scene
to give me the hard-on that I had now.  Not at all.
     "But ya know what was funny?" Kent went on,  "At first,
I didn't feel the solution at all.  I mean, he told me it was
runnin' fine and that he was takin' it slow.  Said that way
I'd feel less uncomfortable and I'd be able to handle more of
it.  And that was good.  The more I took in, the more I could
dump out.
     "After a few minutes, though, I thought I could feel a
mild pressure inside.  It was near where the warmth around my
asshole had been before, but sorta beyond.  Growin' very
slowly.  Not second-to-second, like, but if I thought about
somethin' else for a bit and then thought about it again, I
could tell it was more there.
     "'Looks good,' he told me. Ya feelin' it yet?'
     "'Just a bit.  Don't hurt none.  Just like a pressure
inside.'  By then, the feelin was pretty steady.
     "'Yeah, that's about right.  Almost half way there.
Might start feelin' . . . oh, a bit less easy in a bit.
Don't let it worry ya none.  It's natural.'
     "Not long after he said that, I started feelin' the
urge, ya know, like I had to shit.  'Hey Doc, I think I'm
ready.  I can feel like I gotta go.'
     "'Just a little more, GI.  If this is gonna work, you
gotta try to take the whole bag.  And ya gotta hold it for a
bit.  If not, it don't do a good enough job.'
     "'Yeah, but the urge, like, it's gettin stronger.'
     "'It will.  You'll be able to hold it.  Did ya want me
to use a little less, seein' this is like a first time for
ya?'
     "'Well, no.  I mean I wanna do it right.  It's just when
I feel it like this, most times I don't wanna wait too long.
Know what I mean?'
     I recalled those times on the trail when Ho Chi Minh's
revenge had struck and a guy barely had time to get his pants
down before his bowels emptied out.  You were sure it stunk
all the way to Hanoi.
     "As the bag drained, Doc kept reassurin' me.  'It'll all
be fine.  You're holdin' it real good.  I knew when we was
talkin' that you'd be able to do it.  I could tell ya wanted
to do it right.  Maybe you're new to this' -- I wasn't sure
if he meant Nam or the enama --'but you got a good grip on
it.'
     "By now, let me tell ya, Glen, that urge was startin to
feel real strong.  I was tryin' to clamp my asshole on that
black prod like it was my best buddy, and -- jeez -- I just
wasn't sure if I could do it.  I was dancin' in place on all
fours, and the bunk spring was squeekin' like a mouse in
heat.  Ol' Doc had me set up real good for his next move."
     By this time, I had a pretty good idea of what was
comin'.  I heard enough rumors about Doc.  But I let Kent go
on.
     "'Ya know, GI,' Doc says, 'I might be able to do
somethin' for ya if ya don't mind me gettin' a bit personal,
like.'
     "O baby," I muttered into my beer.  I don't think Kent
heard me.  He went on like he didn't.
     "'Whatta ya mean . . . personal?' I still didn't get it."
     "'Well, if ya let me work on ya with my hand, ya know,
between your legs, it'll keep ya from thinkin' so much about
the urge to go'."
     "'Jeez, Doc . . . ya mean like a hand job?'"
     "'O, we wouldn't go that far.  Just enough to make ya
feel good up front so ya don't feel bad in the back'."
     "So ya let him grab your dick?" I asked.  "Just like
that?"  I squeezed my own crotch, partly to illustrate,
partly for my own relief.  I wondered if I could still cream
in my pants without touching myself.
     "Hey, man, you would've done it, too.  The urge for a
dump was pretty strong, ya know?'"
     "Must of been."
     "And I figured, what the fuck, I was already on the bed
with my pants down and nearly two quarts of water up my ass.
Why not let him play with my dick if it would help?'"
     "Yeah.  So ya did?'"
     "Yeah.  And ya know somethin'?  It didn't feel half bad.
He had a real good hand, and he worked it over my dick and my
nuts like he knew just how to get to me.  Taught me some
moves I used later when you and me had our little jack-off
sessions.  It wasn't long before my little dancin' on the bed
was movin' to the rhythm he was puttin' on me.  And I tell
ya, I had a hard-on any stud would be proud of'."
     I'd seen that hard-on.  He was right.  And I had a real
hot image of Kent rockin' back and forth on the bunk with
the enema hose up his ass while good ol' Doc teased his dick.
     "Finally, finally, Doc says, 'OK, my man, looks like
we've emptied the bag.  I'll slip the nozzle out.  Can ya
hold on for another five minutes?  To let it work.'"
     "'I dunno.'"
     "'Well, don't pull your pants up yet, and I'll keep
ya distracted for a bit'."
     "I gotta tell ya, Glen, I almost lost it as he eased the
nozzle out of my asshole.  For a second or two I had a
panicky image of real mess over the bunk and the back of my
legs, but I clenched my ass some more and gripped the blanket
a bit tighter with my fingers and toes.  In a second or two,
Doc's hand was back around my dick, strokin' me just enough
to keep me hard but not enough to get me to shoot.
     "He had a real sure touch, 'cause it wouldn't have taken
much at that point to push me over the line.  It was like all
that warm water up my ass was pressin' against my cock and
balls, just waitin' to push my cum up and out.  My legs were
shakin' and I was rockin' back and forth and moanin' like I
didn't know which way I was gonna pop first."
     "Doc used his other hand to steady me, strokin' my ass
and my thighs, tellin' me softly that I was doin' real good
now, real good, like you'd talk to a horse that was gettin' a
bit skittish.  I don't think I really heard what he said,
only the tone.  It was just about enough to keep me holdin'
on."
     "Finally, he was ready to let me go.  'OK, get your
pants up, my man.  Don't worry about your socks, but pull on
your boots, so you don't get cut out there.'"
     "I yanked up my briefs and fumbled with my fatigues.
Those damn buttons on the fly just wouldn't cooperate, and my
fingers were all fumbles."
     "'Just hold your pants up.  Don't worry about the
buttons.  Here, step into these boots.'"
     "'Uh, thanks.'"
     "'No sweat, GI.  You'll make it.'  He patted my ass
lightly as I went out the door to make my run."
     "For a few seconds, I was stumblin' on the trail, my
eyes still gettin used to the dark, my right hand holdin' my
fatigues up and the front closed over my hard-on, never quite
gettin' my footing on the uneven ground in my unlaced boots.
Lucky for me the latrine wasn't far from Doc's hooch, and
lucky, too,  no one else was usin' it when I got there.  You
remember what that LZ latrine was like?"
     I nodded with a beery grin, remembering -- a springless
bunk frame where you could balance your butt over a cut-down
fifty-gallon drum.  Crude, awkward to use, it stunk, and
everybody in the neighborhood knew when you had the shits.
Too bad for the poor fucker who got stuck with the shit-
burnin' detail in the morning.
     "Better'n usin' your pants, though."
     "Barely.  But I wasn't set to argue just then.  So I
dropped 'em, leaned back against the steel siderail, tried
to get my butt over the barrel, and pretended that my dick
wasn't out-fuckin'-rageously hard.  It took about five
seconds for my asshole to register that NOW WAS OK."
     "Then, when I'd just let go of the first gush of warm
water and I could feel the real shit pushin' against my
asshole from inside, I heard someone else comin' up the
trail.  Fuck it.  There wasn't anything I could do.  If some
other GI was gonna get a front-row look at my swollen pecker
while I blew a quart of water and accumulated shit out my ass
that was tough luck, dude.  I just hoped it wasn't somebody
from the hooch.  For a few seconds, my heart was poundin'
like a son-of-a-bitch, trying to keep me hard and let me
blush at the same time.  Then I saw it was only Doc."
     "'Hey, GI, ya forgot the TP when ya ran off.'  He held
up a roll and grinned.  'Thought ya might want some before ya
were done.'"
     "As I relaxed at seein' him, my asshole cut loose with a
really loud fart, followed by a good bit of the water and
shit that were still inside me.  I half grunted, half
sighed."
     "'Told ya you'd make it.  Looks like your dick still
needs some attention, though.  Ya wanna take care of it
yourself, or ya want me to?'" His grin was really dirty."
     "I figured he'd had a pretty good grope already, though,
so I just wrapped my hand around my still swollen tool and
set to pumpin'.  About ten strokes later, I started shootin'
just as my ass let go one last time.  I don't think I'd ever
shot that high or that much before -- four, five, six fat
wads, the first one straight up to my face."
     "When my eyes focused again, Doc was wipin' that one off
with some of the TP, sayin' 'I bet that felt real good.  Real
good.'"
     "I took the roll from him, wiped the cum off my hands
and my chest and my dick, and then used some more on my ass."
     "'You'll sleep easy tonight, GI.  For sure.'"
     "'Yeah, for sure.'"
     "'Anytime.  Ya took it real good.'"
     "All I knew was I felt so drained and easy that Charlie
could've dropped ten rounds in my lap and I don't think I
would've twitched.  And ya know what else?  As Doc turned to
head back to his hooch, I could tell he had a hard-on in his
own pants."
     "Yeah, well, I'm not surprised." I said.
     Focusing on me now that his story was done, Kent said,
"Hey, I know that look."  He glanced down at the bulge in my
crotch.  "I can see that my dirty details are havin' just
about the same effect on you that they had on me.  Why don't
we go back to my place and do something about it?"
     "You wouldn't happen to have one of those red rubber
bags would ya?"
     He just flashed me that ready grin of his.  Ya know,
that's what I like about my buddy kent.  Even when he
surprises me, he's true to form.
 
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