This story contains descriptions of adult male consensual gay sex. If this topic is offensive to you, or if it is illegal for you to view this, please leave this site. This story is a work of fiction and fantasy and is not based on or about real people or situations.
Occupying Ourselves
The January night at the wildlife refuge was bitterly cold. A strong wind out of the north stirred up skiffs of powdery snow, reminding me of yesterday's blizzard.
It was my turn, again, to stand the night watch in the top of the old fire lookout tower above the headquarters building of the refuge. There was nothing to see, except the vast frozen stretches of sagebrush and cheetgrass, and the far off layers of ice covering the lake a mile away.
I've been hankering for a little action, some time in the sack with a good looking man, someone I could get it on with, and have some fun.
I haven't really told anyone, especially the guys around here, but I like it both ways, being with women and with men.
All the guys here, they're Constitutionalists, militia, defenders of the Constitution and the common law. I believe in that, too. That's why I came up here, when "Ammo" and the other guys asked me to come. It's time to fight for our rights.
I don't think they'd think much of the idea of a guy getting it on with another guy. But, they don't need to know that about me. It's part of my life I keep hidden away. It's nobody's business. It's part of the freedom to be a real American man, that's what I think.
All this cold and nothing to do gives a guy time to think, and to get even more horny than I already was. All I could do was pace around the small confines of the lookout, as the gusty wind blew through the open sides of the tower, my camo hunting coat and insulated boots, a stocking cap and gloves the only protection from the frigid night air. My long underwear helped, but still, when the wind blows, it just gets damned cold. My nuts just want to crawl up inside of me and my cock shrivels right up.
"18 degrees," the thermometer read, as I left the warmth of refuge headquarters and visitors center, to begin my shift. It would get colder, as the night went on, and the wind picked up.
We'd been here two weeks, hoping the Feds would fight with us, taking back the buildings we'd occupied here. They'd attack us, and we'd fight back, letting America know how evil the government was, and then we'd give the land back to the ranchers. The whole country would see how cruel the FBI was, how they wanted to take away all of our rights.
"They'll come, soon, and we need to be ready for a fight," our leader, "Ammo" said.
He'd talked to me and the rest of us the last few years, about how the government was ignoring the Constitution, and taking away our freedoms. We had to take up arms, and fight them, and defend our freedom.
It wouldn't be long before they came and took away our guns, and take our ranches away from us, "Ammo" would tell us.
I didn't have a ranch. I don't know much about cattle and farming anyway. I'm a city boy. I worked for a defense contractor, putting together those dehydrated meals the soldiers ate, the ones who were fighting the heathens in Iraq and Afghanistan. But, I'd been laid off a while ago, after most of the soldiers came home. My boss said there wasn't much of a demand for those meals, because we weren't sending as many soldiers over there to fight them rag heads.
"Ammo" said that if we didn't fight them over there, then we'd end up fighting them here. The government would let all those rag heads move over here, and take our jobs and our women. We needed to fight back, and defend our country and our way of life.
I get my unemployment now, but its not much money to live on. Food stamps, too. We're barely getting by. But, I'm glad my wife's working, down at the post office. She got a temp job before Christmas, and then they kept her on. I'm thinking about trying to get on disability. There's more money in that.
It's real lonely here, with not much to do. Ammo and the rest of the guys moved in, and we thought the feds would fight back, and retake the refuge. But, they haven't done nothing, just sitting back and waiting, I guess. It's driving me nuts, just waiting around in this cold, snowy place, forty miles from the nearest town. And that town don't even have a Walmart.
I've been thinking - a lot. Thinking about what it would be like, to get it on with one of the guys here. They're pretty rugged, real he men. And, I like the hairy ones, the ones who've got beards. Most everyone's growing their beards out since we got here, trying to look more like "Ammo".
I'm doing that, not shaving, and letting my whiskers grow out. I'm trying to look like "Ammo", I guess. I really admire him.
"Ammo", well, he's pretty amazing. He works out a lot, real muscular. And, he's got a nice thick beard, all nice and trimmed. Looks like a real mountain man, like those patriots back in Revolutionary times, when men had real freedom, and were willing to die for it.
He's taken a real interest in me, helping me to clean my guns, and getting me ready for the fight that's coming. We've sighted in my rifle and he's shown me how to be a better marksman with my pistol. And, he's taken a lot of time with me, getting my clothes organized, and showing me how to dress for cold weather.
He's shown me how to work out, too, doing exercises to toughen me up. He's taken a real interest in getting me in shape, and I'm really honored that he thinks so much of me. He says I'm a real leader, one of his best men.
The other day, I was in the shower, and he was showing me how to shampoo my beard, and keep it clean. He even got out his own beard scissors and helped me trim my moustache.
"Damn, it's getting cold," I said, talking to myself, and the wind, I guess, as my stint as the lookout in the old fire lookout dragged on. Another six hours to go, and I was getting pretty cold. At least, I had a thermos of coffee, and I'd slurp on a cup of it every hour. But, I'd drained the thermos now and it was going to be a long, cold night.
I heard the stairway creak a little, and then a voice called out, just above a whisper.
"Dick," the deep voice, said. "Dick, I'm coming up."
"It's me, Ammo."
The wind eased a little, and the only sound was the steady footsteps of Ammo's boots as he climbed up the stairs.
"I brought you some more coffee," he said. "And, a sandwich."
"Thanks, boss," I said.
He shook my hand, then pulled me into a hug.
"Thanks, Dick, for everything you're doing here," he said. "I'm really proud of you."
I nodded, not knowing what to say. No one had ever come up here when I was pulling the night shift, let alone bringing me coffee and food.
Ammo pulled out a bag of potato chips from under his coat.
"Want some," he said, holding the bag open for me to take a handful.
"I get really hungry for snacks around here," he said. "Just can't seem to get enough to munch on. I've got the munchies really bad."
He poured us both a cup of coffee, and we looked out over the frozen refuge, and the pale white of the frozen lake far off in the distance, a sliver of the moon giving us just enough light to be able to see all the nothingness of the refuge.
"God works in mysterious ways," Ammo said. "Giving us this beautiful country to guard and protect from those Satanists at the FBI, and giving us this time together, defending freedom."
"Amen," I said. "We are doing God's will."
A coyote howled far in the distance, and a gust of wind stirred up the powdery snow below us, almost obscuring the roofline of the visitors' center building, where the rest of the men were sleeping, all warm and toasty in their Army surplus sleeping bags. They'd had all their snacks, and their coffee and hot chocolate, before crawling into their warm beds and dreaming of freedom and fighting the righteous battle with the feds.
"I'm thankful we've had the time to get to know each other better," Ammo said, moving close to me, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him.
"You're real special to me, you know," he said.
"You're real special to me, too, sir," I said.
"And, I'd like to get to know you better," Ammo said.
His breath felt warm on my face, a mixture of coffee and potato chips.
"A man gets lonely here, lonely for some companionship," he said.
"You get lonely up here, Dick, all alone? No one to keep you company?" he said.
I nodded, looking into his eyes, seeing something I hadn't seen in him before.
"I bet you do," he said.
He pulled me tighter, his fingers now against my face, rubbing across my new whiskers, smoothing my moustache, and the lengthening stubble across my jaw and chin.
"Your beard's coming in real nice," he said. "I like a man with a beard. It makes you look really manly, a real stud."
I nodded, smiling at Ammo's kind words, hearing him tell me how much he liked me. I pushed out my chest a little, feeling proud, a real American patriot.
"You like me, don't you, Dick?" he asked, his voice low and soft.
"You are my hero, sir," I said. "You are a real patriot, a true American. I'd do anything for you, you know, sir."
"I believe that, son," he said. "I really do. You're a man of your word, a man of honor, a true American soldier."
"You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you, soldier?" he said.
His hand ran across my face again, slowly playing with my whiskers, and the bits of ice that had formed on the whiskers around my mouth, the coldness of the night pressing down on both of us, our breaths fogging the air around us.
"Yes, sir," I said, my eyes focused on his rugged, manly face, and his thick, manly beard.
"May I touch it, sir?" I asked. "Your beard."
"Yes, son, of course," he said. "I want you do. I want you to feel close to me. I want you to get to know me, to be my first soldier in this battle."
I put my hand up to his face, and felt along his jaw line, his chin, and his thick, bristly moustache. He felt warm, manly, and I moved closer to him, feeling his breath on my face and neck.
I wanted him closer. Every part of me was drawn to him, to this great American hero, to my leader. I took that final step, pressing against him. My heart was racing, my armpits damp with excitement. I felt my cock stir and grow, pushing against the long underwear and the rough cloth of my camo pants.
"He is choosing me," I thought. "He is honoring me, and thinks me worthy of his attention."
"How can I serve this great American?"
My mind was swirling; this moment was beyond anything I'd ever hoped for, ever dreamed about.
His hand reached out for mine, and he stripped off my glove, exposing it to the harsh iciness of the night. Then, he pulled me closer, moving my hand to his pants, until I could feel his thickness, and the warmth of his manhood.
"Take care of me, soldier," he said. "Do your duty to God and country."
His other hand pushed down on my shoulder, and I knelt before him, my face feeling his warmth, my face pushed against the rough cloth of his camo hunting pants.
"Unzip me," he whispered, his voice thick, urgent.
"Now, soldier."
My naked fingers found the tab of his zipper, and I pulled it down, down along his thick, musty man meat, and the loose ball sack.
His musty, manly odor filled my nose in the cold, dry high desert. Rich, and funky, a contrast to the cold smell of the sage and juniper of this empty, lonely land.
He'd gone commando, as I'd hoped for, as I had dreamed about these many long nights in this frozen land. The full God-given glory of his manhood was laid naked right before my eyes, right in front of my eager lips and tongue. The long thickening meat began to rise from its nest of the thick, coarse manly fur of my leader, my hero.
I took him, then, wetting his growing rod of steel with my lips and my tongue, feeling him push against my throat, until he was hard and full.
I pulled back and then pushed against him, until he filled me up again, pushing against the back of my throat, a slight moan escaping his bearded lips in the silence of the night.
"Yes," he whispered, "do your duty, soldier."