This is a sample chapter from No Homo: Soldiers, the newest entry in the No Homo series of hardcore gay erotica. This series is unique in that it is among the most explicit and extreme gay erotica out there while containing no gay sex — that’s right, there’s no sex act that’s indisputably actual sex and totally gay! It’s the ultimate in straight guy domination and humiliation!
Also try the Omnibus Edition, which contains No Homo: Soldiers and ten prequels, outlined here.
Tony Giadalucci was glad to be away from New York. Boot camp was nothing at all like he expected — it was both better and worse, he thought, or at least that’s how it seemed his first few days. The best thing about it was being far away from the city and the stultifying neighborhood he had grown up in. He had always dreamed of finally getting away from it all, and could barely believe it had actually happened. The worst was the conditions he was forced to endure, which seemed primitive even by the low standards he had expected. His father had told him to expect to live rough during basic training, and he was willing to accept that. He thought leaving the city would mean a peaceful life (aside, of course, from the potential for being assigned to war).
But boot camp had proven to be more difficult than his father had let on. Tony was supposed to be bonding with the men he went through training with. They were going to be friends for life, virtually brothers, he thought. But that wasn’t happening. He still felt estranged from the men around him.
Tony had always been the biggest, strongest and most confident kid in his class. That was what had gotten him in trouble back in New York, after all — he had thought himself untouchable, and let that attitude get the best of him; he had almost gotten in enough legal trouble it would have ruined his Army career before it even started. His father had had to pull some favors to get him out of it, and Tony was determined to put it behind him.
But it seemed his squad was composed largely of men like him, men who were used to being the struttingest cock on the walk. They all saw themselves as the best and toughest in the barracks — at Camp Steelman, all of the barracks formed a unit that worked together, and Tony’s was known as Zeta Squad. Among the other Zetas, Tony was not the biggest, definitely not the most confident and only the strongest in his own mind.
He was used to the strict schedule of military life due to his father’s stern parenting style, so most aspects of Army life suited him well. He didn’t mind having his bedtime and wakeup time strictly regulated, constant demands for perfect obedience, cleanliness and punctuality. The one activity he immediately hated was showering. Tony had played football throughout high school, so he was used to group nudity.
But Camp Steelman’s makeshift showering facility was a wide open area, surrounded by their own barracks so it was effectively private but still felt public. The lack of any ceiling was especially bad, the four showerheads being mounted to a steel frame with a hose attached; it rained their first day, cold water from the sky mixing with a lukewarm shower. It looked like something from a prison in an old Western movie, Tony thought.
The showerheads sprayed warm water, which was better than Tony’s father had told him to expect, but still required six men to share each showering space. They had been told it was built that way, but rumor had it that it was built for three men per head, and they were simply being forced to cram inside to save on time.
Regardless, Tony found the environment too tight for comfort. That first night in the shower, he accidentally touched his first six bare penises ever. It was difficult to avoid accidentally brushing up against his fellow squadmates, some of whom seemed to make no effort to prevent it. Limp cocks had a spongy quality he found revolting, and that he had never noticed in touching himself.
Most of his squadmates had the good sense to not bring attention to the awkwardity of the situation, and silently nodded an apology on those occasions when some accidental touching was unavoidable. That was the way straight men should handle things, Tony thought, just pretend it either didn’t happen or wasn’t a big deal, and don’t ever talk about it.
But there was one recruit who had no shame — in large part, Tony assumed, because he had the largest dick of anyone in the squad. It hung between his legs like a baby’s forearm, swinging with every step he took. He was Hawthorn Kyle, a burly Texan with an accent so thick Tony could barely understand what he said. “First one to get a hardon in here gotta suck us all off!” Hawthorn brayed through his own laughter the first night in the shower. It was a joke he would often repeat.
The first one to get a hardon was Ransom, a thick-bodied black man who thought it was hilarious. He held his hands above his head and guffawed, looking down at his own rod. He swung it to and fro as though trying to “accidentally” hit the others with it.
One by one, the rest of the squad realized he was rock-hard, his veiny black cock throbbing. He briefly touched Tony’s thigh with it, and Tony gasped as though he was bitten, pushing away from him.
Unfortunately, Tony stumbled backwards right into that burly redneck, Hawthorn, who wrapped his arms around Tony. Tony squirmed out of the bear hug, but not before feeling Hawthorn’s big farmboy cock and balls drag along his thigh.
“I ain’t control it,” Ransom said with a grin. “It just happen. It just happen. My dick is used to visiting pussy, y’know, it ain’t used to this kind of faggotry.”
Tony managed to slip out then, before things went any further. He heard a rumor that Hawthorn and some others stayed behind for a circlejerk, but they all denied it when asked later. He just went back to his bunk and wiped off the last bit of soap from his biceps and armpits with a towel.
He was humiliated. Nobody else treated it like a big deal, but it was for him. He sulked on his bunk that evening. The fact that nobody treated him bad or teased him for touching two cocks, one erect, right there in front of everyone, that confused and unnerved him. Back in high school, if there was a freshman in the showers with him and his fellow varsity wrestlers, they might have put their balls on him. That was the height of humor during high school.
It would have been embarrassing, all anyone would have talked about for weeks. The victim would have never lived it down. If that had happened here at boot camp, Tony could have survived it — he was big and tough, he could have fought Hawthorn or Ransom and won, gotten his revenge. Things would have made sense.
But now nobody cared. They all laughed at him at the time, but now they had forgotten. That was somehow worse because Tony couldn’t regain his manhood by punching someone. The humiliation was slighter, but permanent. He would look like an asshole who can’t take a joke if he made a big deal about it now. All he could do was pretend not to be ashamed.
Tony was the victim of another of Hawthorn’s shower “jokes” a couple days later, when he stumbled into the shower along with the others half-asleep from a day spent running and digging, interrupted only by bouts of intense book-reading. He could barely keep his eyes open, and stumbled into his squadmates’ muscular bodies several times. He didn’t even notice how much contact he had this evening, thinking only about how tired he was as his hairy crotch rubbed into Ransom’s thigh.
Hawthorn’s trick was to pretend-hump a man from behind, as though ass-raping him, and then getting an extra laugh by going all the way and making penis-to-ass contact. He even moaned like a porn star after acting classes, a deep, undulating sound that made Tony shiver at the thought that it was Hawthorn’s real orgasm moan.
Somehow, a couple of the recruits found it funny. Tony had to admit he chuckled the first time it happened to someone else, but when he felt Hawthorn’s wiry pubic hair on his own ass, it Tony didn’t see the humor in it at all. Hawthorn wrapped one furry forearm around Tony’s shoulders and held him in place as he squirmed.
Tony yelped and tried to pull away. But the more he moved, the more contact he had with Hawthorn’s hoggish manhood. He had never been a small guy, but most of his squadmates were taller and heavier, and Hawthorn in particular had almost a foot and more than a hundred pounds on Tony.
He felt a twitch moments before Hawthorn let go, and Tony wondered if the big farmboy stopped only because he was about to get a hardon from the friction alone. Tony stumbled forward and collapsed onto of his other squadmates, Rod. They both tumbled to the ground, their dicks rubbing against each other.
The other men cheered and hollered, whooping as though they were strippers mud-wrestling for an audience. Tony and Rod both blushed and stumbled to their feet. For a moment, Tony was on his knees and saw nothing but dicks all around him. Black, brown and white, some uncut with cheesy foreskins waiting to be washed, others neat and circumcised like an unwrapped present that Tony didn’t want.
Hawthorn wrapped one muscular arm around Tony’s shoulder in a friendly way, though Tony hated the feel of his corded biceps and coarse blond body hair grinding against Tony’s own body. “Hey, sorry, dawg, I ain’t mean to knock you over and make out with Rod. You two looked real special together-“
“Fuck you, man,” Tony said. “I ain’t into that homo shit.” He pushed away from Hawthorn.
“”Naw, man,” Hawthorn said, “This is boot camp. This is a strictly no homo situation, man. It don’t count here. You city boys is just touchy about it.”
“Yeah,” said one of the other rednecks, Marcus. “You gotta deal with a little man-on-man horseplay. This is the Army. It don’t count here. It ain’t gay. It’s brotherhood. No homo.” Marcus slapped Tony on the ass and whistled at his muscular cheeks jiggling.
He had already been through worse, but somehow Marcus’ hand on his bare ass sent Tony over the edge. He roared and punched Marcus right in the nose, knocking him to the ground in a burst of blood and saliva.
Memories of bullying from high school flooded back to him. Tony had always been the tough guy, the one on top, and he thought less of the little pissants who allowed him to push them around. He knew he was in trouble from the fellow recruits’ nervous stares as they rushed to help Marcus, but all Tony could think about was that he was glad that he didn’t let Marcus turn him into one of those whiny little pissants he used to beat up.
He was, he thought, on top once again, and once again, he was in serious trouble. He definitely didn’t feel like he was developing a fraternal bond with his fellow soldiers.
“I will not tolerate this kind of monkey business!” Sergeant Railton screamed into Tony’s ear. “You are a soldier, not the country’s gayest frat brother! We do not tolerate horseplay in the showers!”
Tony was still naked and wet from the shower, dried blood on his knuckles. He wasn’t ashamed of his body or his dangling bare cock, but he still felt open and vulnerable. He stood at attention in the back of the barracks, his squadmates were in their bunks pretending not to listen. Only he, Marcus and Hawthorn were at attention, everyone else having successfully distanced themselves from the shower fight.
Railton continued screaming insults at him — without cursing, as drill sergeants were no longer allowed to curse at recruits — wearing barely more than Tony was. Railton’s short, squat frame was thick and padded with muscle, and he had to look up to peer into Tony’s eyes. He wore only a pair of dingy brown Army-issue boxer shorts and a matching wifebeater. The commotion in the showers had drawn him from his living quarters when he was trying to get to bed, and it had given him a sour disposition.
“Are you picking up what I’m putting down, boy?” Railton asked, over and over, in louder and louder tones, Tony screaming his agreement back increasingly loud as well. Railton was so close they were virtually kissing, and Tony could taste the sergeant’s stale spit on his tongue. More than once their lips fleetingly touched.
Railton grabbed Tony’s balls with one hand and pushed him against the wall. He didn’t squeeze, but he held on firmly. “I get the feeling you ain’t payin’ attention to me, son,” he said. Tony gasped, every muscle and instinct in his body demanding that he punch Railton and get out of there. He bit his lip as Railton continued, “So now that I know you are focused, let me reiterate: I am not gonna let you make a fool outta me. I should send you to Leavenworth for a couple months for assault, just to send a message to all these other punks. But I like the way your marbles hang to the left.” He gave a light squeeze on Tony’s balls, which sent a shiver of pain up his spine. Tony tried not to wince, tightening his torso to stop himself from shuddering.
Railton turned and stopped at Hawthorn, who stood, his own cock and balls cradled by tight briefs, blond hair poking out the top. His massive dick was plainly visible pressing against the fabric.
“For starters, you three can get out there and be on watch all night long, in your all-together. Yer privates gonna take over for the privates out there now. Go on, take ‘em off,” Railton said. “You gonna have to prove you deserve to wear clothes on duty, boys, and I need to see you can behave like professionals even when you’re naked. So let’s go, flash those vaginas so we can all see if you’re still virgins.”
Tony, Hawthorn and Marcus nervously stripped, Tony instinctively covering his crotch with both hands until he saw that both Hawthorn and Marcus were openly flaunting their cocks. They both seemed to have that redneck penchant for casual male nudity, so Tony wasn’t surprised by their lack of modesty. He felt like he stood out covering himself, as though others would see it as a sign he had a small cock (even though they had all seen him naked already, so they knew that wasn’t true), so he let go and allowed his dick and balls to hang free. They followed Sergeant Railton out of the barracks into the warm night air.
The two privates on watch were surprised to be interrupted, and it took them a moment to register that their commanding officer was there. Then they both jumped to attention and saluted. Normally, Railton probably would have punished them for being idle, but they weren’t asleep, Tony figured, so Railton evidently didn’t plan on making a big deal out of it. He obviously had more important punishments to dole out. They scampered away, glad to be done early for the night.
“All three of you gonna stay on watch all night, and don’t you dare let me catch you sleeping,” Railton said. As he said it, Tony had a sinking suspicion that was exactly what would happen — he had never been good at staying awake when he was bored and tired. Railton then went over the usual spiel about watch-duty, and how it was vital to discipline, etc, and so on. Tony wasn’t impressed but he nodded sagely as though he thought it was important.
Finally it was over, and Railton’s half-naked, hairy body saluted before turning around and returning to the officer quarters. Tony and the other two saluted back, feeling the cool night breeze blow across their naked bodies.
“That coulda been worse,” Hawthorn said.
“Yeah, I thought we was really gonna be in some shit,” Marcus said. “I can’t be gettin’ in trouble. If’n I get kicked outta the Army, I’m goin’ back inside for two more years.”
“Inside? You mean prison?” Tony said.
“Yep.” Marcus nodded. “I was already in for a year, and I’m only allowed out on conditional release. My public defender said that means I gotta get through my first tour of duty without getting arrested, or I serve the rest of my sentence, plus probably some time in military prison.”
“What’d you go in for?” Hawthorn asked. Tony noticed he was scratching his dick with more vigor than seemed necessary, almost jacking off.
“Inciting a riot,” Marcus said.
Hawthorn whistled, and an awkward silence ensued. Tony wanted to ask if Marcus had done it, and exactly what sort of riot he had incited. But he gathered that would be rude, and it seemed even the lumbering brute Hawthorn had enough sense not to ask either.
In fact, Tony noticed after a minute or two, that Hawthorn was no longer paying attention anyway. He was openly stroking his meat, which was half-hard, his muscular body dimly visible in the night light.
“Hey, man, quit it! He’s jacking off!” Tony jumped to his feet and looked away.
But Hawthorn just laughed, followed by Marcus. Both of them had Southern-tinged guffaws, and Tony realized that neither considered group masturbation off-limits. He felt like a squeamish fool and blushed, glad nobody could see it in the darkness.
“I can’t just sit around naked all night without jacking off,” Hawthorn said. “Texas boys like me got Texas-sized balls, man. We gotta empty ‘em.”
“You ain’t just supposed to be sitting around naked all night,” Tony said. He sat back down, away from Hawthorn. “You’re supposed to be on watch. You ain’t watchin’ if you’re jackin’ off.” He noticed how he was picking up a Southern accent from these two.
“If Canada chooses tonight to invade, I will take those maple-niggers down!” Hawthorn said, laughing at his own joke. Marcus joined in, though Tony found his use of the n-word more casual than he would have liked. It made him uncomfortable, and he was glad Ransom and Malik (the squad’s only black guys) weren’t there to hear it. “I don’t need clothes to kill a man.” Hawthorn flexed his biceps. “I got these guns.”
“You talk tough,” Marcus said. “But I don’t know if you can back that up.”
“Quit talkin’,” Hawthorn said. “Or I’ll be jacking off all night. I can’t cum with you yammering on.”
They both fell silent then, waiting until finally the smell of cum blossomed, and they both turned up their noses. Hawthorn shot a load onto the grassy lawn outside the barracks, even his moans bearing all the twang of his hillbilly accent. He laughed as he turned around and sat back down.
They continued talking all night and as the sun rose over Fort Rumblemore. Tony was surprised to find they had a lot in common, and he enjoyed their stories of hunting trips and life in the country, while they were fascinated by his urban New York upbringing. Tony felt his muscles relaxing when the warm morning air hit him, and the birds began chirping. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized that he, Marcus and Hawthorn were now casual friends.
Tony blinked his eyes open to see Sergeant Railton standing over him, rays of the early morning sun illuminating him from behind.
“What was the last thing I told you, private?” Railton barked.
Tony jumped to his feet, cursing Marcus and Hawthorn for not waking him in time. Marcus mouthed I’m sorry at him from behind Railton.
“Sir, you told me not to fall asleep, sir.”
“I told you not to dare to fall asleep,” Railton said. “And then you did exactly that.” Railton was wearing only running shoes and green PT shorts, soaked in sweat, even less clothing than the night before because the shorts were only a few inches down his thigh. His burly middle-aged chest was hairy and covered in moisture as well, and he smelled strongly of rank manhood.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Sir… I was very tired, sir”
“That is not a great excuse, Giadalucci.
“Shut the fuck up!” Railton said. He pointed to the ground. “Sit down!”
Tony did as commanded. He was nervous. Right in front of his face was Railton’s crotch, his bulging genitals clearly visible in the sweat-stained shorts. The acrid smell of his groin assaulted Tony’s nostrils.
“They say that scent is the sense most strongly tied to emotion,” Railton said. “So if I can make you associate a scent with ‘staying awake’, you’ll be able to stay awake better when you smell that scent in the future. Does that make sense, Private Giadalucci?”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“So I’m going to rub my balls on your nose,” Railton said. He smiled cruelly as Tony looked up to see if he was joking — he was not. “And you’re going to stay right here, on watch, until morning duties begin. That’s two more hours. You’re not going touch your face for two hours, so you’ll be smelling balls the entire time.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Tony said when he realized Railton was expecting a response. Tony still tried to convince himself Railton was joking though. If drill sergeants weren’t allowed to curse, surely forcible teabagging was against the rules as well.
“And in the future, if you need to stay awake, you can ask one of your fellow soldiers to rub his balls on your nose. I’m sure any of them would be happy to help out,” Railton said. “Or you can just be a man and stay awake on your own. Your choice.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Tony said. His heart pounded as he decided Railton was definitely not joking.
Railton dropped his shorts and jockstrap, revealing a hairy bush and a thick cock. It gleamed with sweat, and the smell was already overwhelming, Tony thought, even from a few inches away. He couldn’t believe this was really happening to him, and his mind went back to the paperwork he had signed upon arrival — hadn’t there been something about what to do if you were sexually harassed or assaulted? He thought so but couldn’t remember and didn’t know if this would count anyway.
“Keep your eyes open, private, or I’ll stick it in somewhere much worse,” Railton said. “Don’t ever just close your eyes like that. You’re on watch, after all, not serving as Chief Bottom for the San Francisco Pride Parade. You have to be looking around.” Railton whacked Tony’s face with his limp dick, leaving a film of slickness on his skin. The smell of crotch hair and muskiness overwhelmed Tony, whose eyes began to water.
Railton turned around, revealing a wide ass thick with dark hairs. Tony instinctively pulled back, frightened by the smell of stale ass-seat. But the wall was behind him and he was pinned against it. Railton spread his own asscheeks as he plopped backwards, placing his asshole square on Tony’s face.
The sound of Hawthorn’s surprised gasp, and Marcus’ pitying sigh, hit Tony even from behind the mountain of flesh in front of his face. He hoped nobody else was walking by the barracks this early in the morning, or they would surely see Tony with his face buried in middle-aged man-ass.
Tony gagged and choked as Railton slowly wiped his body upward. His asshair was plastered to Tony’ skin with his early-morning jog sweat, which seeped into Tony’s nose and mouth. He choked on the biting, acrid flavor, and had to force himself not to vomit.
Railton ended with his ass almost sitting on Tony’s scalp, his low-hanging balls stretched across Tony’s face. His scrotum had a moist silkiness that Tony found disgusting, in addition to the smell and flavor that made his stomach retch. There seemed to be so much ball flesh it was almost encompassing his entire head.
“Do you think you’ll be able to stay awake until morning duties?” Sergeant Railton asked. “Private? Huh?”
Tony didn’t want to open his mouth, knowing it would allow some of Railton’s balls to enter. He couldn’t stand the thought of actually being teabagged. He just nodded, wincing at the ballflesh spreading over his face and leaving a film of manjuice over every pore.
“Answer me, Private Giadalucci. You ain’t getting out of this without putting my balls in your mouth anyway,” Railton said.
“Sir, yes sir. I will be able to stay awake until morning duties,” Tony said, lowering his head just enough to speak without swallowing Railton’s balls. His voice broke, which was embarrassing, but he wasn’t sure anyone could tell because it was muffled by Railton’s genitals and ass, pushing Tony’s face against the wall. He realized Hawthorn would never let him live this down — he’d forever be known as the Ballsweat Private, he thought.
Railton’s fingers grabbed Tony’s chin and worked it open. Tony didn’t fight back despite an intense natural urge to do so — his father had done two months at Fort Leaventhworth Military Prison, and Tony had no desire to see if it was still the same. Tony had spent one night in jail after a drunken party with his friends went haywire the morning after, when the girl they had all been with turned out to be a transexual. Tony did not want to repeat that experience, especially not in a military prison.
He gagged as Railton slowly lowered his testicles into Tony’s mouth. First one, then the other tumbled into his trembling throat, sitting there in a sticky, sweaty mess.
“If this is what it takes for you to stay awake,” Sergeant Railton said, raising and lowering his hips as though fucking Tony’s throat with his balls, “Then I expect you to ask your squadmates to teabag you every time you are on watch, soldier. If that don’t get you to improve your willpower, nothing will.”
Railton moved around a little, swaying his hips to make sure his ballsweat coated every inch of Tony’s mouth. Then he stepped away and put his shorts back on.
“You got a pubic hair on your left cheek, private,” Railton said. “I’ll be back in two hours. If you don’t have that pubic hair there still, I will throw your butt in military prison for dereliction of duty. You’ll suck on a lot of balls there, boy. So you stay still and quiet until I get back. If that gets tough, remember that this can be the last time you ever taste balls.”