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Part 3
It was still early, before the morning rush, yet the toilets reeked of stale urine -- unchecked by even the faintest trace of a disinfectant. The odor had a quality as it lingered in my nostrils, asserting a raw masculine carelessness that unsettled yet intrigued me.
I stepped into a stall -- not because anyone else was present, but because the urinals were a primitive denial of privacy that made me feel exposed in a way that was unwarranted.
The stall had no seat, only a hole in the ground -- a Turkish toilet, which is the norm in the Greek army, and no functioning lock on the door.
I squatted to relieve myself, unwilling to contribute to the high entropy by having it spray, and, holding the wooden wall to steady myself, since even brushing against the porcelain was out of the question, I was able to relax and let go once my arousal had finally subsided (which, while not a nocturnal erection, was amusingly caused by the other men's morning wood).
Just as I was finishing, someone else entered the restroom. I remained squatted over the toilet, my pants down to my ankles, as the man approached the urinal just outside my stall, bumping carelessly into the wooden partition separating us in the process. This caused a flimsy piece of wood, approximately at my eye-level, that was loosely adhered to the wall, to dislodge and fall away, exposing a small gap through which the recruit could be clearly seen. My heart raced as I inadvertently caught a glimpse of his cock, inches from my face, letting loose a powerful stream.
I panicked thinking he might notice the opening and choose to investigate, finding me crouched inside the stall, sitting quietly with my pants down, evidently getting off from seeing him piss. Fumbling, I looked for the piece that had fallen off, intent on reinstalling it before he saw anything, but in my anxious state, I mishandled it as I was putting it back, sending it tumbling to the other side where it landed near his flip-flops.
I froze, not able to breathe for a moment, dreading his reaction. The torrent of his piss was all that could be heard, and, hopefully, it had drowned out all the noise I had made. When I thought it safe, I dared to look again. Careful to obscure the light between my face and wall with my hand, I peered through the opening, avoiding his plump manhood as he was giving it a shake, and studied his face to ascertain whether he saw.
I found him looking up at the ceiling, oblivious, clad only in the underwear he had pulled down under his private parts, with one hand tugging at his cock while the other toyed aimlessly with his large balls. His darker complexion suggested he might be of non-Greek descent -- possibly an Albanian immigrant, judging from the size of his uncircumcised instrument.
I was more than a little disgusted with myself as a voyeuristic impulse took over and I couldn't stop examining the clueless recruit's fat member, my baser instincts clearly starved for what this visual stimulation provided. It scared me to realize how quickly I could be reduced to a pathetic mindless entity without agency by the sight of another man's cock.
The moment lasted mere seconds before he gave it a few final shakes and tucked himself away, leaving a wet stain on his briefs where his cockhead rested. He then exited the restroom without bothering to wash his hands.
Once the room was silent again, I stepped out of my stall, and, moving quickly to avoid anyone catching me, I retrieved the fallen wooden piece and secured it back in place, erasing any trace of the little feature in the wall that I had accidentally discovered.
--
I was making my way back to my bunk bed just as a Sergeant stormed into the barracks, as if on his third espresso, with a loud and offensive voice.
"Wake up your lazy asses, men!", he had a rural accent that created a useful ambiguity over his level of civility.
The recruits, many of whom I had ogled in their sleep only a few minutes ago, jolted awake and scrambled to their feet, suddenly realizing where they were. Some fumbled for their fatigues and boots, while others, too groggy to care, stood at attention in just their underwear. Needless to say, I kept my gaze glued to the floor as I hurried back to my things to change into the proper attire without drawing any attention.
The Sergeant continued barking orders. "Don't just stand there, idiots! Get dressed, fold your beds, piss if you have to, and line up outside! Ten minutes!" With that, he marched out, leaving the recruits to their fate.
Some stared blankly at their disheveled beds, unsure how to fold them, while others struggled with their uniforms and boots. Despite the rude treatment from their superior, there was an uncontained excitement in the air for their first day in the army, which almost made me laugh - as many of these men that were acting tough and mature yesterday, now seemed eager and anxious to prove themselves -- for an entirely meaningless pursuit, I thought -- though, I allowed the possibility that there may be factors in their perspective that I was missing.
There was a distinct strive for dominance that I had observed in males since early childhood, and which became particularly overt during middle school, a behavior that whether instinctual or developed had never resonated with me. I knew that this environment, where such behavior was perhaps encouraged, would inevitably target me and that an intellectual retort would not suffice. I must have convinced myself otherwise during my time in university -- that thought trumped everything, but I was becoming disillusioned over that now.
John was shockingly still asleep when I got to my bed. Kostas, whom I happened upon in the process of changing his underwear and displaying his hairy, muscular ass to everyone, motioned for me to wake John so he wouldn't get in trouble.
I hesitated, unsure how to rouse him when the Sergeant's voice had failed. I didn't feel comfortable touching him while he slept so I tried to speak up but, as the commotion in the room was drowning out my voice, I had to settle by nudging his dangling foot, which seemed like the least intrusive option. "John, wake up! You need to get ready!"
Since I didn't want my hand to tickle him, I ended up gently rubbing John's large foot even as I tried to make my voice louder.
He eventually stirred, his face puffy and dazed, looking at me with a boyish expression that I found almost endearing. "Oh... what tiiime is it?", he mumbled, yawning mid-sentence.
"It's time to get up, John! You need to dress and make your bed, fast," I told him, my voice came out more effeminate than I intended and I was becoming painfully aware of the other people around me. The act of waking John felt intimate, and I didn't want to appear overly invested, already finding myself regressing to an earlier, more repressed, version of me. But then, I wondered -- why did I care so much what any of these ignorant men thought?
"Thank, bro," he murmured, as he sat up and rubbed the sleep off his face. John was no doubt handsome, though not in a way that I might have paid attention had it been in any other circumstance. But, in this state of vulnerability and half-nakedness, he looked borderline irresistible.
I lingered, ostensibly to ensure he didn't fall back to sleep, but really, I couldn't bring myself to leave.
He lifted his leg over my head with a degree of caution, perhaps mindful of last night's "unfortunate" incident. Though, again, oblivious to the indecency of splaying his hairy thighs and presenting me with an uncomfortably close view of his chubby bulge, well accentuated by his briefs that had ridden up. I was shocked to see the swollen shape of his morning wood through the thin material, snaking down his leg and almost threatening to make an appearance outside.
His movements may have been clumsy and innocent, but the positions he unwittingly assumed were anything but.
Repositioning his other leg over the bed, on my other side, and sitting himself on the edge, he unintentionally trapped me between his thighs in the narrow space between the bunks, and, before I could step back or duck away, apparently thinking that the margin was sufficient or that I would move away, John leaned forward to hoist himself down, flexing his abs and thrusting his hips in one smooth motion. As he did so, inattentive to the situation in his underwear, the friction with the bed made his briefs ride further up, causing the head of his cock to slip out, which then overpowered the fabric and exposed his dick and balls in their entirety -- as they followed a predictable trajectory right towards my face.
Nothing could have prepared me as my nose and lips were momentarily engulfed in the sweaty, bare mass of his balls and cock, which painted my cheeks with a wetness as it slid off to the side and hid itself from other people's view, forcing me to confront the richness of John's clammy manhood.
In a panic, I jerked back, slamming the back of my head against the bed frame as John got the rest of the way down.
The pain in my skull barely registered over our full-body contact as he planted his feet on the ground, pressing into me, as his bare chest radiated a warmth that was somehow bypassing my clothing, and met my hand rubbing the back of my head with a concerned look.
"Wow, are you alright?", John's voice pulled me back to the present. We were facing each other, and I could feel his breath tease my face as he spoke, which was somehow even more intimate from our arrangement just seconds before. Although I was cognizant that my face smelled like his junk.
The other recruits had disappeared from my view.
"Yeah, I am okay. It was my fault, sorry," I said quickly wanting to reassure him. For some reason, I patted his back, which was bare and warm under my palm, almost as if to keep him there but it felt natural.
"Oh, man, what must you think of me? It's twice that I almost hurt you with my..." And he gestured down, as if I needed clarification, and realized in shock that his cock had escaped the confines of his briefs and was pressed, obscenely swollen and pointing straight up, against my body in the tight space between us.
The tent it formed was impossible to ignore, even as he withdrew his hips back and tried to tuck it back inside.
I interjected hastily, after gulping down a pool of spit that had accumulated in my mouth, not wanting to make him too self-conscious, "No need to apologize, John. It's fine. Better get dressed because you don't have much time!"
He nodded, all previous events vanishing from his memory, and rushed to get himself ready, realizing the importance that the first day in the army held for him.
If anyone else had seen our interaction, I couldn't tell. I quickly glanced around, and everyone seemed well preoccupied. More than a few recruits changed in full view of everyone, some even taking a moment to strut and talk to each other - their lack of modesty bordering on pride, but I didn't care.
I kept stealing glances at John as I made my bed with precision. He didn't bother putting on clean underwear, probably a wise choice in his current state, and just slipped into his newly issued military clothes before speeding for the restroom.
Seeing the time and realizing he wouldn't be able to make his bed, I took it upon myself to fold his sheets after finishing my own.
When he returned, his face lit up with gratitude. "Thanks for helping me out, man," he said with an easy smile before pulling me into a bro hug.
"No worries, John! It's my pleasure," I replied, the words more genuine than I expected.
Whether it was the repeated imprinting of his potent pheromones on my face or simply his natural charm, I found myself increasingly fond of him.
As the recruits began filing out, I followed beside him. I looked up at his manly, freshly washed face, smiling and brimming with excitement and thought I could allow myself to become invested, if only for a few more days.