I stepped out of the shower and began to towel myself dry, examining my image in the mirror as I did. For the most part I liked, and was satisfied with, what I saw. Crew cut brown hair, square-jawed sort of face, broad shoulders, great pecs, smooth and hairless torso, narrow waist, big balls, well-developed and rather hairy legs.

I tried, not always successfully, to ignore the various flaws - such as the scars on my torso and legs - among other things....

The 'Angel' on my right shoulder whispered in my ear, David, my boy, you're going to go out tonight and get laid.

But it was a total disaster the last time, and the time before that, so why subject yourself to it again? the 'Devil' on my left shoulder argued. You might as well give up.

Because it's like falling off of a horse, the 'Angel' countered. You've got to get right back on it again, and the sooner the better. There just has to be some guy out there who will accept you as you are.... damaged goods and all.

Right, the 'Devil' shot back. Fat chance of that. How often has that happened in the last year? You can count the number of encounters that actually ended with coupling on the fingers of one hand. One look at your naked body and they head for the hills.

Still, hope springs eternal in the human breast, I thought.

Internalized debate over, I stepped up to the vanity and shaved. Then I applied deodorant under my arms and a splash of cologne to my neck before stepping into the bedroom to dress. I selected a pair of well-worn 501s, pulled on a polo shirt, and slipped into loafers.

As I pulled my aging Toyota into the parking lot of the bar, I noted that the lot was almost empty.

Ah, well. The smaller the crowd, the less chance there was of rejection.

Entering the bar, I noticed that the bartender was leaning on the far side of the U-shaped bar which divided the room with his back to the door, apparently deep in conversation with the rather good-looking (and only) customer seated at the bar across from him. The customer stared at me, and said something which caused the bartender to turn and look toward me.

What was that about?

Walking to the opposite end of the bar from the two men, I waited for the bartender to take my order. He served me without comment and, beer in hand, I selected one of the many empty tables and sat down.

* * *

It was seven o'clock on a Friday evening and, freshly showered and shaved, I was looking forward to an evening out. I gave myself one last look in the mirror. Kevin, my boy, I said to myself, you look like you're ready for anything. I had eaten lunch a couple of hours later than usual and wasn't ready for dinner, so I decided to stop at my favorite gay bar for a beer. Don't be misled by my use of the word 'favorite.' I don't particularly enjoy going to bars, and the one I selected was the least objectionable of those which were immediately available.

On entering the bar, I quickly surveyed the room, which was almost empty, and selected a place at the bar which enabled me to see anyone who entered the room.

Clancey, the bartender, brought me a beer without waiting for an order to be placed.

"Here you go, Kevin," Clancey said, placing the brew in front of me.

"Thanks."

We were more than slightly acquainted and had, in fact, enjoyed a brief fling some months earlier. Like most flings, it hadn't lasted.

I had been keeping one eye on the door while we chatted.

"Look at what just came in," I said. "Do you know him?"

Clancey turned to look in the direction of the door.

"No, but I'd like to."

The new arrival was very tall, good-looking, extremely well-built, and carried himself with what I immediately recognized as a military bearing. He was dressed pretty much like myself - 501s, knit shirt, and loafers without socks. To my dismay, the guy stopped by the far end of the bar, ordered a beer, and carried it to one of the tables on the other side of the room.

Clancey came back to where I was sitting.

"Like what you see?"

"You know I do."

"Why don't you do something about it?"

"Such as?"

"Well, you can hardly offer him a second drink at this point. You could, however, ask him to dance. That's always a good ice-breaker."

"What a good idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you. You told me you've been doing without for awhile - go get him."

I grabbed my beer and walked over to the jukebox which was, at the moment, silent. I fed it some money and selected two slow numbers. As soon as the music began, I walked over to the guy's table, set my beer down on it across from him, held out a hand and said, "Dance?"

"I'm not very good at it," the guy said. His voice was resonant, deep, and very sexy.

"I don't see any judges waiting to hold up numbered signs, do you?"

"True."

The guy took my proffered hand, allowed himself to be pulled from his chair and led to the tiny dance floor. As I held him close for the slow dance, I noted with pleasure that we were roughly the same height - at six-four, I seldom ran into suitable men that were my size. I also noted that my dance partner smelled good - whatever he was wearing was both masculine and appealing.

"I'm Kevin," I said. "Kevin Boxer."

"David Majors. Pleased to meet you."

"You ex-military?"

"Yeah. Rangers. Does it show?"

"Takes one to know one. Me too."

"Where?"

"75th Ranger Battalion, Iraq and Afghanistan."

"Me, too. I wonder why we don't know each other."

"As to the former, it's a big army; as to the latter, we're working on it."

I pulled David closer and we danced until the music stopped, waited a second for the second number to begin, and danced until it was over. After that, we went back to David's table and sat with beers in hand. We talked for a while and played 'who do you know?' as do most current and ex-military types. It developed that we knew, and had served with, some of the same people at various times. The similarities in our lives were amazing - we had both joined the Army right out of high school and we had been through the same training programs - only I had been one year ahead of David - and we were both going to college, courtesy of Uncle Sam, albeit in different colleges. A further parallel in our lives was the fact that we were both taking courses during the summer term that had just begun, in order to speed up the process of obtaining our respective degrees.

Finally, I said, "Want to join me for dinner?"

"Sure. Where?"

"Some place with good food and a fairly dark room where, if we want to do so, we can hold hands without being obvious."

"Is there such a place?"

"Oh, yeah."

We left our unfinished beers on the table and I followed David to the parking lot. That's the best ass I've seen in a while, and those well-worn 501s cling to it like the proverbial glove, I thought as he went through the door ahead of me.

There were only six cars in the parking lot, counting Clancey's. I pointed to a Mustang and said, "This is mine."

"Cool. I'm right next to you in the Toyota. Where are we going?"

I named the restaurant. "Know it?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Let's go."

* * *

As he followed Kevin's Mustang, David's mind was working overtime, mostly pursuing negative thoughts.

God, Kevin is such a hunk and the dancing was wonderful, but hunks want to be with other hunks, not guys who have 'limitations.'

Stop it. Think positively. This will turn out okay. It has to turn out okay, one more rejection will push me over the edge.

Twenty minutes later, we were seated across from each other in a booth in the darkest corner of Luigi's, a small Italian restaurant which was heavily patronized by the gay community. We ordered a bottle of Chianti and studied the menu.

* * *

An hour into their meal, Kevin found himself beginning to fantasize just a bit about the rest of the evening and wondering what David's preferences were in bed. Coincidentally, David reached across the table, took his hand, and examined it carefully.

"You have unusually long fingers."

"So I've been told."

"Does the rest of it follow?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, long fingers, long something else."

"More or less. Why, are you a size queen?"

"Not at all, but I have difficulty achieving orgasm. It takes a man who can ride hard and deep to get the job done."

Well, that's one question answered.

"Is that an invitation?"

"You know it is. Want to follow me home?"

"That's pretty much a rhetorical question."

"Yeah."

We finished our dinner, followed by a game of 'grab the check,' which I won. I followed his Toyota from the restaurant to a section of Murray Hill that was a bit more upper middle class than the rest of that neighborhood. He pulled into the driveway of a brick house which probably dated from the forties and I parked beside him.

Standing in the driveway, I said, "Nice house."

"Yeah, and the best part is - no roommates."

"How do you manage that, if you don't mind my asking?"

"These days when some kids go off to college, their parents will buy a house for them. The kids find a couple of roommates and the parents collect enough rent from the roommates to service the mortgage. When the kid graduates, the parents sell the house and take a capital gain if the property has appreciated."

"Cool."

"My dad did that for my older brother. In my case, he was so proud of my military service that he bought this house and allowed me to sign an agreement for deed. The way it works is he pays the mortgage, and I pay him. For now, I only have to pay the taxes and insurance. He gave me six years to get an MBA and find a job - after that, monthly payments kick in, and in twenty years the house is mine."

"That's a sweet deal."

"The downside is that interest is accruing every month."

"Why didn't your dad eliminate the interest for the six years?"

"IRS rules. If you fail to charge interest on a loan, they tax you on the interest anyhow. They call that 'imputed interest.' They do the same thing if you charge less than the going rate."

"It's still a sweet deal, even with that."

"Yeah, and a lot to live up to."

He gave me a quick tour of the house which wound up in the living room.

"I thought we were going to wind up in the bedroom," I said.

"Later. We have to talk first."

"About?"

"About what happens next."

What's to talk about? We're either going to fuck.... or not.

* * *

I grabbed Kevin in a tight embrace and we kissed for a while, during the process of which garments began to fall to the floor. When we were down to our shorts, I asked him to sit down on the sofa. He sat, and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"There's something you need to know," I said as I stood in front of him.

"I'm waiting."

"On the last day of my second and last tour overseas, I sustained an injury."

"What kind of injury?"

"This is difficult for me. Please let me finish without interruption."

"Okay."

"We were assigned to check a small village for insurgents. As I led my squad through the market square, we saw a group of small boys playing under a sprinkler that someone had set up on a wall a few feet above them. They were naked except for dirty jockey shorts, and some women were watching them. I noticed one of the boys in particular, because it looked as though he had crapped in his shorts - there was a bulge in the rear and dark stains in the seat. I didn't think anything of it as we walked by.

"Someone behind me yelled 'grenade,' and we all dove for cover. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. It turned out that the bulge in the kid's shorts was a small grenade. One of the women snatched it from the kid's shorts and threw it. The damn thing landed in front of us - my point man caught the brunt of it, and I was next in line. A couple of my buddies were killed and I sustained some injuries. It was later discovered that the woman was actually a man wearing one of those head-to-toe outfits with only the eyes showing. I didn't see a copy of the after-action report until weeks later while I was in a hospital in Germany."

I paused, and he said, "What injuries?"

Okay, David, I thought. Truth time. You can do this.

I bent over, dropped my boxers, and stood up to face Kevin.

"This."

I saw the shocked look on Kevin's face and thought, God, this is going to be a repeat of two weeks ago. I don't know if I can stand it.

* * *

David's chest and torso were smooth, although I could see a few scars here and there. His upper thighs were somewhat scarred and he had a pair of the biggest balls I had ever seen. However, there was nothing above them but smooth skin. I stared for a minute.... in shock.

Finally, I found my voice and stated the obvious, "The grenade blew your dick off?"

"Most of it. There wasn't enough left to save, so I was left like this."

"How do you....?"

"Pee? They rerouted my urethra to a spot about halfway between my anus and my balls and made an opening for it. I have to sit down on the toilet and hold my balls up and out of the way to relieve myself. And to answer the obvious question - I have to watch porn and use a dildo to achieve any kind of gratification.... it doesn't always work."

"Which explains our earlier conversation about size."

"Yeah."

"I don't know what to say."

"At this point, most of my prospective sex partners get dressed and leave, often with a certain amount of yelling and name calling. Their favorite epithet seems to be 'freak.'"

I stood up and walked to where he stood, dropping my shorts in the process. "I'm not 'most' people," I said, covering his mouth with mine before he could reply.

Our tongues battled for supremacy for a bit, before I broke the kiss and began to kiss his shoulders, followed by his chest and torso. Finally, I knelt on the floor in front of him and fondled his balls while licking the smooth spot where his penis had once been.

I could feel him shiver in response, so I stopped and said, "Feel good?"

"Yeah. That's the only bit of good news from the whole tragedy. The shrapnel took the head of my penis and the top half of the shaft. The surgeons told me that the underside was left intact from the base almost to the head. They were able to use that flap of skin, with all its nerves intact, to cover the spot where they had severed what was left of the rest of it when they performed the penectomy, which is the medical term for surgical removal of the penis."

I stood up and said, "It's time to go to the bedroom."

"Good, because I've got a huge phantom erection right now."

"Phantom erection?"

"Medical literature is full of articles about amputees who report that they can occasionally 'feel' their missing leg or arm, or whatever. People like me can get phantom erections."

"That doesn't sound like it's much fun."

"Believe me when I say, 'it isn't.'"

He took my hand and led me down the hallway to his bedroom where he pulled the covers back on the king size bed. We lay down belly to belly and began to kiss and fondle, eventually switching to a sixty-nine position. I was shooting in his mouth in less time than it takes to tell the tale.

When we were again face to face, I said, "Sorry I came so quickly."

"Don't apologize. I wanted you to do just that."

"Why?"

"So that when you fuck me, it will take longer. Lube and condoms are in the night stand. By the way, how long have you been a 'smoothie?'"

"Since shortly after I moved to Jacksonville. I met some guys who keep themselves smooth and they turned me on to it."

"I like it."

"Do guys really leave and call you names in the process after they see you naked?"

"In a word, 'yes.' The last time it happened, I spotted the guy in a bar a couple of weeks later. He recognized me and I could see him begin to whisper to his companions, pointing in my direction. I left that bar and never went back."

"Nobody ever said all gay men were nice guys."

"Yeah. Now, will you shut up and fuck me?"

"I've got a better idea for right now."

"Excuse me?"

I took one of the king size pillows and placed it carefully about halfway down the bed from the headboard, then I grabbed the tube of KY with my left hand and lay down on my back with my head propped up on the pillow.

"Get up on your hands and knees, with your balls just below my chin."

"What?"

"On your knees, soldier," I barked, using my old command voice.

"Yes, sir," he said, in a pavlovian response. He scrambled in place, giggling as he did so.

As I suspected, the pillow gave me enough elevation to service his crotch and balls with my tongue - without placing undue strain on my neck. I moistened the index finger of my right hand with KY, and began to probe, all the while licking and fondling. My finger quickly found its target and went to work. It took a while, but his breathing eventually became ragged, and he shuddered and moaned. I felt something wet on the palm of my right hand and withdrew my hand and finger. My hand was drenched, so I licked it dry. We shifted around so that we were once again face to face and kissing.

In between kisses, I said, "How was that?"

"Need you ask? I haven't had an orgasm that intense since before the incident. Whatever made you think to do it that way?"

"A massage guy I know. After he finishes massaging your back, he has you get on your hands and knees on his table. Then he does a prostate massage."

"If you won't think me too greedy, I'd like you to fuck me now."

"Your wish is my command."

I slipped a condom on my erection, positioned him on his back with the pillow under his butt, raised his legs in the air, and entered him slowly. After all the finger work, he was loose enough that I slipped right in. When I hit bottom, I studied his face.

"Ready for more?"

"Hard, fast, and deep.... if you please."

"Oh, I please.... and I aim to please."

I began to pound his ass relentlessly, and had my second orgasm of the evening fairly quickly. As I pulled out of him and began to lower his legs I saw what appeared to be evidence that he, too, had done so.

"You came again, didn't you?"

"I can hardly believe it. In fact, I didn't think it was possible. These days I'm lucky to have one orgasm, but to have two of them in such a short time is a miracle. The ironic thing about all this is that before the accident, I was a total top."

"Wow. You must have had a long learning curve."

"You have no idea."

We snuggled and chatted for a while, and David said, "Can you spend the night?"

"Sure. I took the weekend off from my part-time job, and I don't have to be anywhere until 10 o'clock Monday morning."

"No homework?"

"Not a bit. I spent most of the afternoon studying in anticipation of a free weekend."

"Me, too. How about a shower before we go to sleep?"

"Yeah."

I followed him into the bathroom and joined him in the huge stall shower. As we were toweling ourselves dry, I said, "I don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?"

"No, but you can use mine."

"Are you sure?"

"I've just had your dick in my mouth. Why would I worry about my toothbrush being in yours?"

"Yeah. That makes sense."

Ablutions finished, we returned to his bed and settled down for the night. I don't usually sleep well in strange beds, but for some reason I was out like a light in no time. The next thing I knew was the sensation of a warm and friendly mouth wrapped around my erection.

I opened my eyes and said, "Is it morning already?"

"After seven."

"What a nice way to start the day."

"I was hoping to inspire you to use your magic fingers again like you did last night."

My response was interrupted by my orgasm. When he had finished draining me dry, he rolled over onto his back and I crawled on top of him. We kissed for a while before I said, "Ready when you are."

He moved to one side while I arranged a pillow to support my head. When I was in place, he handed me the lube and sat there for a minute.

"What are you waiting for, soldier," I said. "Assume the position."

"Yes, sir."

It took less time than it had the night before to bring him to orgasm. Practice makes perfect.

We snuggled for a while, belly to belly. Between kisses, he said, "That was amazing. Even better than last night, if such a thing is possible."

"We aim to please."

"And so you do. I'm ready for act three if you are."

After that, we showered and dressed. He let me use his toothbrush again, and his razor, so I felt comfortable - even though I was wearing the same clothes I had worn the night before. After breakfast, we decided to go out to the beach and take a walk. I was surprised when he pulled on a pair of Speedos, and surprised again when he slipped something inside his trunks.

"What's that?" I said.

"It's called 'the bulge.' Guys wear it as a so-called 'package enhancer.' I use it to make up for what's missing."

"Yeah. It certainly works. I forgot to ask you how you managed to totally eliminate your tan line."

"There's a small pool in the back yard surrounded by a six-foot privacy fence."

"That'll do it."

He pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, a tank top, and slipped his feet into thongs.

"Now we need to stop by your place, so you can change."

"Let's go."

In the driveway we had a brief pissing contest as to which vehicle to take, and my Mustang won. It didn't take long to get to my house, which was just across Roosevelt Boulevard in one of the less expensive sections of the Avondale neighborhood.

There were two cars in the driveway, one of which I didn't recognize.

"Looks like Jeff got lucky last night.

"Jeff's your roommate?"

"One of them. The other one is Roger. They each have one of the downstairs bedrooms, and we get along okay. They're the reason I don't have to work full time."

"What does that mean?"

"An elderly great-aunt died while I was in Iraq. She left me the house free and clear - it seems I was her favorite."

"Did you like her?"

"She was nice enough for an old lady. To be honest, what I really liked was spending the summer with her from the time I was in the 7th grade all through high school. I got to take the bus to the beach when I wanted to - and I took care of her yard for free, and mowed most of the yards in the neighborhood for pay."

"Do you want me to stay in the car?"

"Don't be silly. We'll take a quick stroll through the house to my bedroom. I hope he's up and about, so I can show you off. He's been teasing me lately about coming home alone."

"Thanks, I think."

I led him on a brief tour of the house, starting with the living room, then we climbed the stairs to the master suite and arrived in my bedroom without encountering anyone.

"Guess they're still asleep," I said, "but it's hard to tell, because Jeff's bedroom is downstairs at the back of the house."

It took me only a minute or two to find Speedos, shorts, flip-flops, sun screen, and we were on our way. In a public parking lot adjacent to the beach, we left our shorts, tank tops, and other stuff in the trunk of the car and headed for the sand. When we reached the 'gay' section of the beach, I took his hand.

"It's safe to do that for the next half-mile or so, although I'd much rather be walking behind you right now."

"Why?"

"Because you've got a magnificent ass, and it looks especially fine under those Speedos."

"Now that you mention it, you fill your Speedos out quite nicely, too."

We continued walking hand-in-hand until we reached the end of the 'gay' strip and continued for another mile or so, at times talking, but often in silence, merely enjoying the sound of the surf and the ever present sea birds. When we got back to our starting point, we showered under the public showerheads and used our towels to good effect. Back at the Mustang, I took a huge beach towel out of the car and used it as a screen, so he could slip out of his Speedos and into his shorts, then he returned the favor.

We grabbed some fast food on the way back to town, and by the time I pulled into my driveway, the food was long gone.

"I don't know about you," I said, getting out of the car, "but I need a good shower."

"So do I."

He followed me into my bedroom and I closed the door behind us. We shed our clothes and went into the bathroom, where we spent some time under a warm spray of water.

"Have I told you how gorgeous you are?" I said, as we toweled ourselves dry in front of the mirror.

"I don't think so."

"Must have been an oversight, because you are, and that ass drives me crazy."

I stepped behind him and cupped a cheek in each hand by way of emphasis. With my mouth close to his left ear, I whispered, "Time to try out my bed, don't you think?"

"Was that a rhetorical question?"

I grabbed his hand and led him to my bed.

"As you can see, I'm not quite as neat as you. My bed is pretty much the way I left it Friday morning," I said.

"At least we don't have to pull the covers back."

"Yeah.... that."

Lying face to face, we cuddled, kissed, and fondled for awhile. When I sat up and arranged a pillow to support my head, he said, "Don't you want me to take care of you?"

"Later. I feel kind of selfish always being the first to cum."

I lubed two fingers, lay back on the pillow, and looked up at him.

"Waiting for an invitation?"

"Just awaiting your orders, sir."

"Assume the position, soldier."

"Yes, sir."

I somehow managed to reach his prostate with both fingers and gave it a workout, all the while licking and fondling his balls and other sensitive spots. My efforts were rewarded when he shuddered, moaned, and I felt a flood of sticky fluid running down the back of his balls.

"It just keeps getting better and better," he said, when we were again face to face.

"That was my intent. Glad to know I succeeded."

"With those magic fingers, how could you not?"

After a few minutes of cuddling, I lifted his legs in the air and slipped inside him. By that time, I was so aroused that I came faster than a sixteen-year-old virgin.

"Better and better," I said, as I lowered his legs to the bed and lay full length on top of him.

"Yeah, two alpha males taking care of each other. Who would have thought?"

"I guess we are, aren't we? Alpha males, that is."

We stacked the two king size pillows on top of each other and lay back on them side by side, sort of propped up against the headboard. I reached down and caressed his groin with my fingertips.

"Tell me about this," I said.