SERGEANT BULL EPISODE 10

The Dugout seemed like a typical sports bar, with wide-screen TVs showing whatever big game was

 playing at the time, pool tables, and plenty of cold, cheap beer on tap. Bull entered the air-conditioned dive at the side of the road looking for a drink and either a good fight or an even better fuck, never suspecting that by the end of the night, he’d have all three.

Ten miles outside of Killeen, Texas, he figured The Dugout served not only the thirsty locals, but also plenty of infantry jocks from nearby Fort Hood. He saddled up to a stool at the counter and ordered a beer. Country music droned on in the background while Monday Night Football drew his eyes to the big screen above the bar.

The first taste of beer hit his tongue with a shock of refreshment. The last few weeks had been hard, and this day in particular under drought-induced hundred-degree heat had taken the prize. Ten hours on the road had left him itchy, sweaty, and horny, all of which only worked to worsen what he’d been feeling since his departure from San Diego. By the second swig, he was there again against his will, reliving his month with Oscar De La Santos and the disappointment that his cross-country trip to meet his estranged son had ended in disaster.

He knocked back the rest of his beer on the next gulp and ordered a second. Oscar – and Jason, he reluctantly admitted – they were both in his past now. All he could focus on from this point forward was getting back to North Carolina, the Army, and the Best Ranger Competition, or else Inky Calhoun would have him by the nuts. A sixty-hour march through the Georgia wilderness was exactly what he needed to clear his mind of all the horseshit he’d gotten into since leaving his life in North Carolina at the end of January.

Most of his problems could be pinned on the fact he’d been giving it up to other dudes along the way. That crap’s gonna change, he told himself, checking out the football game. Gonna get me a sweet piece of pussy tonight if I can, just the thing to put the rest behind me...

That choice bit of tail stood at the pool table surrounded by what Bull guessed were local boys – a trio of young, twenty-somethings dressed in blue jeans, ball caps, and shit-kickers. She looked their age, real trim and pretty with her platinum blonde hair pulled into a bun and full red lips. She wore a black halter-top – no bra – that showed off her rack of decent tits and butt-hugging designer jeans. As he watched her take her shot, Bull noticed the teasing wiggle of her tight little ass, something not lost on the boys surrounding her. He also realized that his study of the sweet slice of pussy hadn’t gone unnoticed. One of the boys – the handsomest, Bull admitted to himself in silence – flashed him back a mean look.

Bull narrowed his eyes and faced the local boy without blinking. Dude could be her boyfriend, he thought. Then again, the way she’s showing it off, he’s probably just the top rooster. Or he thinks he is...

Eventually, Bull won the game of eye-chicken. The dark-haired local boy turned away to confer with the nearest of his buddies. Their shared look in his direction sent fresh adrenaline surging through Bull’s blood. He wasn’t about to flee from the challenge.

Standing, he strutted over to the pool table. “Howdy,” he growled to no one in particular, setting his beer down.

The two young goons flanking the dark-haired local boy whispered something back and forth. He chalked his stick and faced Bull directly. “Can we help you with something?”

“You three, naw,” Bull answered. A cool, confident grin broke across his handsome face. “But you –” This was meant for the sweet piece of tail who lowered her stick and smiled. “I was hoping you might do me the honor of letting me buy you a drink.”

The girl seductively eased the pool stick down to the floor between both legs. “Damn, a gentleman,” she sighed. “And such a … big one.”

Bull folded his arms, flexing them intentionally. “Twenty year Army Corp service, ma’am.”

She licked her lips and sized him up, all to the chagrin of the others. Before she could continue her slither closer to Bull, the dark-haired macho man cut between them. “She don’t need nothing from you,” he grumbled, his deep voice heavy with a Texas accent. “We got us a game to finish here, Kimmy Sue,” he said to her. “We don’t need some jarhead from the base messing up our night!”

Bull passed a hand through his close-cropped hair. “I’m not from Fort Hood, tough guy. Just passing through.”

“Then keep passing. Deke,” he snapped. “Your shot.”

One of the other two men leaned slowly down and took aim, never once looking away from Bull. Bull picked up his beer and shrugged. “You want that drink, honey,” he said in a smug voice, “you know where to find me.”

He sauntered back to the bar as the explosion of the cue ball striking stripes ripped through the air in the wake of his retreat. Just knowing that a piece of ass half his age and as hot as Kimmy Sue wanted him made the confrontation all worth it. A slight beer buzz restored the smile to his face, though the encounter worsened the itch between his legs and swelled his fat tube of cock meat to half its thickness.

He hadn’t been sitting there long, eyes buried in the football game, when he heard the click of heels to his left. Bull turned to see the sexy babe slide onto the empty barstool beside him. “’Sup there, Mister Army Guy?”

“Nothing,” he shot back. “Yet.”

Kimmy Sue reached over and picked up the sweating, half-empty glass in front of him. Without asking, a sneaky look on her face, she knocked back a swig. Bull watched her throat knot under the influence of a swallow. She licked her lips seductively once she’d drained the glass. The itch in Bull’s nuts intensified. “Phew,” she whistled. “All this small talk’s making me hot.”

“No shit,” Bull chuckled. He snapped his fingers. “Yo, bartender. Two more cold ones.”

Before the beer arrived, the local boy who hadn’t taken kindly to Bull’s invasion of his territory joined them. “Kimmy Sue,” he barked threateningly. “I told you to steer clear of this dude!”

“Oh, stop being so rude, Jamey,” she spat back. “I’m just acting friendly, that’s all.”

“Yeah, a might too friendly!” He grabbed her arm. Kimmy Sue shook free, and in one fluid motion, Bull whipped around to shield her with his body, putting himself between her and her would-be suitor. The tension in the air doubled.

“You want a piece of me, you take it like a man!” Bull bellowed.

“I’m ready, soldier boy,” the young man – Jamey – shouted back.

At first, it didn’t seem to be much of a fight; Bull stood a good three inches taller and nearly twice his age and bore twenty years worth of service-earned strength in his muscles. For a moment, he actually felt sorry for the guy. After all, he had started this cockfight, all over a tight little piece of pussy.

Any regrets or rights to that bit of tail proved moot when the sound of glass banging the counter turned all eyes toward the bartender. “You take that shit outside!” he shrieked. “I mean it – I ain’t having any more of this local boys versus Army base bullshit in my bar. Both of you – get out!”

Looking wounded, Jamey swore out an angry, “Fuck-!”

Bull fished a twenty out of his pocket and tossed it to the countertop. “Keep the change.” He then extended a hand in Jamey’s direction. “You heard the man. You and me – and no doubt, your home boys ‘cuz I’m sure you can’t take me alone – we got to take this outside, son.”

“I don’t need nobody’s help to whip your sorry ass,” Jamey said on his strut to the door. “And I ain’t your son, ya prick.”

A surge of coldness briefly gripped Bull’s insides. He thought of Jason, but the hurt passed almost as quickly as it ignited. He had some ass to kick – and once he was done kicking it, some pussy to plug.

A wall of brutally hot and humid air blasted him head-on as he exited the bar. Night had settled fully, bringing no relief from the inferno he’d encountered on his way through Texas. The fire burning in his nuts more than compensated; Bull barely broke a sweat. A few paces across the dusty pavement to the parking lot, he waved the local boy over.

“Let’s settle this now, cleanly, like gentlemen,” he said. “Just you and me, one on one.”

“Oh, I ain’t no gentleman,” Jamey huffed. “And neither are you. Think you’re real tough with your skinhead and bullshit Army talk, don’t ya?”

Bull sized his young opponent up. “It ain’t bullshit, boy,” he laughed confidently. “Twenty year vet, son. Grenada, Iraq, Somalia. Tell me what kind of threat some little pussy boy from butt-fuck Texas is gonna pose to me.” He gave Jamey a forceful shove backward. The young wrangler held his ground as best he could. “Huh?” Bull pushed him a second time. Jamey fell ass-first to the ground.

He wasn’t down long. Springing quickly up to his booted feet, Jamey lunged for Bull, who sidestepped him, put him in a headlock, and pressed his bucking body flush against his side. This close, the younger man’s smell – a strangely-attractive mix of Texas heat, cheap cologne, clean sweat, beer, and denim – filled Bull’s next breath. “Fucker-!” Jamey shouted. He fired off a few jabs before Bull pinned him fully. “That’s the plan,” Bull spat. “I’m gonna fuck your girlfriend’s pretty snatch.”

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” Jamey huffed. “Least, not yet, dude. I was planning on hooking up with her ‘til you tom-catted your ass into things!” Again, the stab of regret Bull had felt earlier sliced though his cockiness. He thought about releasing the other man, but the sound of the bar door banging shut spun them both around one hundred and eighty degrees. With Jamey’s head locked under his right armpit, he watched in disbelief as the hot little ass they were arguing over sauntered past. Two denim-clad bodies – Jamey’s supposed buddies – flanked her arm-in-arm.

“Losers!” she screamed.

Bull slowly dropped Jamey free of his grip and straightened, bewildered, as the threesome boarded a beat-up truck. “What the fuck-?” Jamey asked. His only answer came after the truck peeled away in a hail of dust, hoots, and catcalls.

“Guess she’s their girlfriend tonight,” Bull sputtered.

Jamey shrugged. “Yeah, those fuckers. Well don’t this just suck!”

Bull wasn’t sure how long he stood staring after the pickup’s rear lights. Feeling stupid once the truck vanished down the road, cheated, and still quite horny, he faced Jamey. “That fuckin’ little cunt.”

“No shit,” the younger man growled. He groped the well-packed front of his blue jeans and shook it in the imagined direction of the faded taillights. “Blow me, you bitch!”

“Don’t think that’s gonna happen, son,” Bull sighed. He clapped a hand to Jamey’s shoulder, which earned him a sour look, but nothing more. Whatever anguish had risen between them in competition for a go at Kimmy Sue’s snatch fell flat now that it was obvious neither of them would be putting it to her.

Jamey sighed a breathless, “Fuck,” before leaning in. “So, you want another brewsky?”

Bull shook his head. “I need a piss.”

“Yeah,” the other man agreed. “Me, too.”

Saying nothing further, Bull strutted around the sports bar’s entrance to the alley behind it. The steady clunk-clunking of Jamey’s boots on the dusty hardtop told him he wasn’t the only one feeling stupid.

“So, she ain’t your chick?” Bull huffed. He fumbled in the meaty warmth inside his zipper. His cock had softened enough to pull it and both of his low-hangers safely out. Hot night air gusted over his sac, loosening it fully.

“I think that bitch has been with everybody,” Jamey chuckled. “Every soldier in town’s fucked her. But fuckin’ Deke and Randy. They ain’t nothing but dogs, dude.”

Bull smiled and tipped his eyes to the man beside him. “Your buddies?”

“Yeah.”

“If they’re dogs, what does that make us?”

“Lonely and horny,” Jamey growled. He followed the statement with a loud howl. “Awooooooooooo!”

Bull glanced down to see proof of the other man’s claim. Beneath the silver oval of his belt buckle, Jamey’s twenty-year-old cock and fat, hairy bag of nuts dangled out of his jeans. Like Bull, he hadn’t started to piss yet, due to the fact he’d popped half of what looked to be a good, thick seven inches of hard-on. The image instantly aroused Bull’s manhood back to where it had been when the thought he was going to fuck some pussy.

“Shit, son,” Bull said. “We’re both hurting.”

Jamey flashed a goofy smile and locked eyes with Bull. For the first time, he realized how hot the local boy was; not just good-looking or well built, but scorchingly handsome. Bull gazed down again as Jamey pushed and grunted. All the effort did was cause his bone-hard cock to pivot in place.

“You might have to get that taken care of,” Bull growled.

“Only hope just drove off with my two best buddies.”

Bull shook his head. “No, not your only hope of getting some action tonight.” He took hold of his dick and squeezed it by the root, an action that sent it up to its full eight inches.

Jamey shook his head. “Holy shit,” he said. “You suggestin’ what I think you are?”

To his surprise, not half an hour after swearing off such things forever, Bull found that he was. He suddenly wanted the local boy more than any cunt. “Yep.”

Jamey straightened rigidly, making his cock bounce some more. “I could kick your ass, dude, for trying to get sweet on me.”

“You could try,” Bull reminded him. He cracked his knuckles for effect. “Or your could kiss it. One choice gets you a black eye and blue balls. Another gets us both something real good.”

Jamey focused on Bull’s impressive boner and licked his lips. “I – I ain’t like that.”

“Like what?” Reaching over, Bull wrapped the fingers of one hand around Jamey’s prong. The younger man moaned out a swear, pushed into Bull’s grasp, and stretched to the tops of his toes. “You like that?”

With a guilty, horny scowl on his face, Jamey nodded. “Yeah, dude. I like it. Like it a lot!”

Bull felt something warm and wet ooze between his forefinger and thumb. Looking down, he noticed fresh precome was already leaking from the mushroom-shaped head of the local boy’s dick. “Gimme your hand,” he ordered.

Reluctantly, Jamey complied. Bull guided it into the warmth between his legs and half-closed his eyes once the young Texan’s palm rubbed against the sensitive ridge lining the underside of his dick. Jamey’s hand was rough and inexperienced, two things that soon had Bull matching him with a flood of precome, drop for drop. “There,” he grumbled. “Now we’re even.”

Jamey gave Bull’s cock a tentative squeeze, then began stroking it with the same skill he no doubt used on his own tool. “’Kay, now what?”

“Now,” Bull sighed, letting go of Jamey’s boner to zip up his pants. “We find ourselves someplace private and take care of these cocks. Follow me.”

Bull started toward his Harley, but a few steps later, Jamey’s voice sent him into an about-face. “Only one problem,” the younger man said. “My ride took off with that little whore ten minutes ago.”

“Hop on,” Bull smiled. Jamey mounted the Harley behind him and gripped Bull’s waist, and together, they set off in search of some relief.

“Pool’s closed,” snapped the sour-faced old man behind the counter. He scrawled a few notes on the bill and handed Bull back his credit card and the key to the room. Never once did he look up.

“Whatever,” Bull growled. He pocketed his stuff and walked out of the air-conditioned office into the oppressive darkness outside. The moment the door shut behind him and the old fart returned to his cable TV, Bull peeled off his T-shirt and strutted over to the fenced-in pool where Jamey waited.

“Dude, you sure-?”

Bull surveyed the pool in the remote corner of the parking lot. The interstate droned on to one side of the horizon behind a wall of locust trees. “Yeah,” he said. Gripping the back of Jamey’s T-shirt, he yanked the tails out of his pants. “I’m fuckin’ burning up.”

Jamey took things from there, and soon, like Bull, had bared a hairy, sculpted chest. Climbing the fence wasn’t much of a hurtle; chain link fences in Georgia, North Carolina, Kuwait, and North Africa hadn’t stopped him and seven feet of it in Texas wasn’t about to either. Bull scaled the fence and dropped to his boots on the other side. Proving himself a capable match, Jamey followed.

Bull quickly shucked off the rest of his clothes – boots and socks, fatigues, leaving him clad only in his dog tags and a pair of gray midlength underwear. Jamey nervously looked around before stripping down to his well-stuffed white briefs. “Sweet,” Bull sighed before cannon-balling into the cool, dark water. When he broke the surface feeling refreshed and ready for action, he saw that Jamey had plunked his ass on the concrete lip of the pool. His big, bare feet and hairy legs were wet up to the calves.

“Come on in,” Bull said. A dumb grin on his handsome face, Jamey eased into the water and Bull’s waiting arms.

Almost a month had passed since the night he’d fled San Diego. Feeling the rough scratch of Jamey’s arms, legs, and chest against his own restored memories Bull had tried to bury, memories of Oscar De La Santos and all the things that might have been for the two of them.

Fuck that, he thought to himself, leaning closer. In the darkness, Jamey’s hot mouth and nervous eyes were the only things he wanted now. Fuck everything that came before this. I’m living for tonight...

With the sound of traffic and cicadas droning in the distance, he bridged the remaining distance through the shadows and met Jamey’s trembling lips. The younger man tried to pull away, but Bull held him close, so close their cocks met like their mouths, one crushed into the other. After a few throaty slurps, Jamey ceased fighting and kissed back just as hard.

Bull slid a hand down the other man’s chest and worked his way into Jamey’s tight whites. While stroking seven bone-hard inches of Texas dick, he growled, “Come on, son. Time to bring this party home.”

Flung in haste, Jamey’s soaked underwear struck the motel room wall with a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck that little tramp,” the local boy howled, burying his cock all the way down Bull’s throat. “Suck my fuckin’ cock, Sarge!”

The taste of raw male sweat and chlorine ignited across Bull’s tongue. He tugged on Jamey’s pool-tightened nuts and gobbled the younger man’s hairy tool. For the next few minutes, while he hummed up and down on Jamey’s cock, he jacked his dick against the perfect muscles of the local boy’s leg. With Jamey dribbling precome into Bull’s mouth, he knew the time was right for some return service.

He spit out Jamey’s cock and stood, brandishing eight rock-hard inches in need of attention. “Suck it,” he growled. Jamey hesitated. Bull rubbed its come-dripping head against the younger man’s lips and repeated the order.

Jamey’s mouth opened tentatively for a lick. It was all the invitation Bull needed. He forced his tool between Jamey’s lips and moaned his approval. “Fuck, yeah!” he grunted through clenched teeth. “Be careful, son. Yeah, just like that! Suck my fuckin’ hairy root, boy!”

The younger man’s lack of skill but fresh enthusiasm felt so good, Bull had to work to put off coming too fast. With one hand choking his nuts and the other pumping his own rod, Jamey sucked him off without breaking stride for the next fifteen minutes. Bull felt the fire in his balls steadily building, but when he looked down to see his eight-incher sliding in and out of the young man’s mouth, he lost it.

“I’m coming, son-!” he howled.

Jamey sucked harder, catching the first bullet of jizz without gagging. The second spurt went down hard. Choking, he spit out Bull’s cock. The rest of the Sergeant’s load sprayed his chin.

Once he stopped coming, Bull sank to his knees between Jamey’s legs and licked his face clean. As expected, his load tasted heavy and bitter, the result of a full month on the road without any distraction except for the comfort of his own right hand.

As sour as his sperm was, Jamey’s proved fresh and salty. After cleaning up the mess, Bull went down to find the younger man right on the verge of shooting. A few sucks later, Jamey unloaded. The throaty moans filling the Texan roadside motel trailed to breathless sighs, swallowed whole by the oppressive heat of a long, dark night.

He’d wanted some pussy that night, a choice, no nonsense love-‘em-and-leave-‘em hole to fuck and walk away from.

And he’d gotten it.

Bull fucked Jamey twice before passing out spent beside him. By sunrise when he woke to another scorcher and the prospect of driving in it, all bets were off.

“I’m outta here,” Bull growled. Freshly showered and ready to ride, he watched Jamey hustle clumsily back into his still-wet underwear.

“What about me, dude?” the younger man griped. “Is that it?”

Bull pocketed his wallet and grabbed his helmet off the nightstand. “Lock up when you’re ready to go. I told you, this wasn’t about nothing except what we did last night.”

Jamey struggled into his boots without bothering to pull on his socks. “No, I meant – guy, I came here with you, ‘member? How do you expect me to get my ass home?”

For a moment, Bull thought about tossing the local boy a twenty like he might have to some cheap whore. He could also just walk away, walk on out like he had on so many people over the years. For a brief and frightening instant, a host of faces hovered half out of focus in the humid morning air.

Bull met Jamey’s confused, handsome face and smiled. “I’ll give you a lift if you move that hot butt of yours. Gotta get home soon, son. Got sixty straight hours of hell with the U.S. Army waiting for me in the wilds of Georgia, and I couldn’t be more stoked about it…”

TO BE CONTINUED...