Active Duty: Gay Military Erotic Romance (2 page)

The cruisy fag in me glanced over at Tareek’s dick. He was packing eight, nine inches maybe, thick, with a milk chocolate hue to the shaft. I was literally salivating.
Damn, he’s got a big
dick
. I wanted to drop to my knees and veer his dick to my lips, the stream of piss and all, but like I said, my mama ain’t raise no fool. My dick grew harder at the sight of Tareek’s. I finished peeing before him and tucked my dick back inside my zipper. Tareek was done two seconds after.

Rob held the door open as we exited.

“All right, bruh, see you next time,” he said, as he gave me dap. “Be safe over there, brother,” he told Tareek.

I looked across the street at the clock at Tallahassee Capital Bank. It was five after three in the morning. I still didn’t want to go home. I was off for three days from my job so it wasn’t like I had to be on somebody’s j-o-b the next day.

“Are you hungry? You want to get some breakfast?” Tareek asked.

The only thing I’d had to eat all day was a hot dog and some chips. I was too caught up in Chris’s mess to eat, and I wasn’t a big fan of what passed for food at the Tomahawk.

“Dog, you read my mind. I’m starving.”

“Cool. There’s a Waffle House a few blocks down the street if you feel like walking.”

“Yeah, I could use the exercise.”

“Is your car going to be okay here?” Tareek asked. “They ain’t going to tow you or nothin’ will they?”

“Naw, Rob is cool. He knows me.”

I couldn’t stop staring at Tareek’s arms. I will do anything for a man in a tank top.

I could make out his abs thanks to the thin, ribbed cotton that hugged his torso. The mental pic of his candy bar-long dick was branded in my brain, and how he shook the last drops of piss off the meaty tip.

“So are you from here?”

“Born and raised and I hate it.”

“Why?” Tareek grinned.

“There’s not much to do. The bars suck, the club scene is like…nonexistent. Tallahassee has like
no
culture.”

“I hear ya on that one. Where would you
like
to live?”

“I don’t know. Atlanta, New York, maybe. I went to Fort Lauderdale once.”

“Fort Laud is nice. I have family down there.”

“I really don’t care where I end up as long as I can get out of Tally.”

When we got to the Waffle House, it was packed, which is always the scene after the bars and clubs let out. These coeds need scrambled eggs and hash browns to soak up all that cheap, watered-down beer.

“Damn, it’s thick up in here.”

It was so crazy people were filed out of the door like they were waiting to get food stamps or something.

“Let me ask the waitress how long it’ll be before we can get seated,” Tareek said.

He pulled this female dressed in a yolk-yellow dress and white apron off to the side and whispered in her ear like he was saying something pretty and sweet. She laughed. I watched as Tareek slipped a twenty spot in her hand.

“She’s going to see what she can do.”

“Do you know her?” I asked.

“Akaysha’s brother is over in Basra. All of us grew up together in Pensacola.”

Within a couple of minutes, Akaysha waved us over to a booth table she was clearing dishes from. I was already impressed within five hours of knowing Tareek.

We sat down as she laid two menus in front of us. She was mocha-toned with brown eyes and gorgeous features. Her hair was done up in a hairnet. Girlfriend was way too cute to be
working in a diner. And a name as pretty as Akaysha didn’t fit a waitress working in a greasy spoon. She had some super-model, Naomi Campbell realness going on. Her manicure was on point, but I figured after slinging trays of dishes awhile, it wasn’t going to stay that way.

“So have you heard from Jamaal?” Tareek asked.

“Got a letter from him last week. He’s holding his own. He wants to go over and fight. He says they’re over there just relaxing, getting some R&R and then they ship out to Afghanistan.” Akaysha couldn’t have looked more scared and worried. I thought she was going to faint right there across the table.

Tareek took her by the hand. “Jamaal is tough. He’ll be okay. He’s strong like his sister.”

I could see tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s just that…he’s only nineteen, you know?”

“He’s going to be fine. He’ll have them fools over there break-dancing before you know it.”

Akaysha grinned. “Yeah, you right.”

“Have them doing the running man or something.”

“Wow, that’s pretty old school.” Akaysha laughed.

“That makes me want to get up and do the cabbage patch up in here.”

“Oh god, please don’t,” Akaysha pleaded.

“I agree,” I said. “Please don’t try to bring that dance back. Let it stay buried in the nineties.”

The three of us burst out laughing. Akaysha took a pad and pen out of the pocket of her apron. “So what can I get ya’ll to eat?”

We cracked open our menus. I was in a major mood for pancakes and patty sausage, so I already knew what I wanted. Tareek ordered first.

“Let me get the steak and eggs with a root beer.”

Damn, steak and root beer for breakfast?

“Okay, it’s going to be about ten minutes on that steak. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. We’re not in any rush.”

Akaysha scribbled down Tareek’s order before she turned her attention to me.

“Let me try the blueberry pancakes with sausage and I’ll have orange juice,” I said.

Akaysha grinned as we handed her our menus. “Tareek, I’m glad you came through. I needed to laugh.”

When he started rolling his arms, trying to do the cabbage patch while sitting down, Akaysha giggled.

“Boy, stop,” she said, laughing. “I’ll be back with y’all’s food.”

“That was one of the coolest things I have ever seen.”

“What, my booth-seat cabbage-patch dancing?”

“The way you calmed her down like that. I could tell that she was upset about her brother.”

“Well, you know what they say about laughter being the best medicine. Each other is all they have. Their grandmama raised them after their mama died from a drug overdose when they were kids. She wasn’t about to let them become another statistic on the streets. Jamaal enlisted a few months after I did. I’m like the big brother he never had, I guess. He was always following me around, wanting to do everything I did.”

“So he enlisted because you did?”

“Akaysha seems to think so, and she was pissed at me for a while thinking that I encouraged him to enlist in the army.”

“And you didn’t?”

“I didn’t have a clue that Jamaal had enlisted until Akaysha wrote and told me. I just hope he’s keeping his damn head down over there.”

The Waffle House line was dying down. People either got seated or they left to go somewhere else to eat. The smell of bacon, sausage and fresh-brewed coffee permeated the diner. My stomach kept growling. Thankfully, Tareek couldn’t hear how hungry I was with all of the talking from the other tables.

“So can I ask you something? How does your girlfriend feel about you going to Iraq?”

“Not sure. I don’t have one.”

Yes!

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” Tareek asked.

“I just got out of a bad relationship. And I mean
just
got out of one like seven hours ago.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not. He was a shit chicken.”

“A shit chicken?” Tareek laughed.

Akaysha sauntered toward our table with a tray of food. “Here, let me help you,” I said.

Akaysha handed me a plate of blueberry pancakes with four sausage patties on the side and two butters. Tareek’s T-bone steak was sizzling on the plate with a side of scrambled eggs. She sat the large glasses of orange juice and root beer on the table next to silverware cocooned tightly in napkins.

“Can I get ya’ll anything else?”

“I think we’re good here, baby girl,” Tareek said.

Akaysha had a smile that could make the meanest of men purr. “All right, just wave if you need me.”

“This looks good,” Tareek said.

“She needs to be on the cover of a magazine somewhere.”

“Who? Akaysha?”

“God, yes. She’s gorgeous.”

“People tell her that all the time, but she doesn’t ever take them seriously.”

“I would love to get her in the studio, take a few shots of her. The modeling industry could use more sisters.”

“I don’t know, but you can try.” We unfurled silverware out of our napkins.

Armed with a steak knife, Tareek cut into his meat as I drowned my blueberry pancakes in syrup. “Mmm…this is a pretty good steak. You want a bite?”

Tareek had no idea how badly I wanted a taste of his
meat
. “It looks good. I should have ordered that instead.”

Tareek ran a piece of the beef in steak sauce with his fork. “Here, try it,” he said, leaning across the table.

I wrapped my mouth around the savory morsel of meat and then sucked it from the tip of his fork.

“How is it?”

“Mmm…that is good.”

The last time I was fed from someone’s plate, I was five. I found his maneuver kind of romantic. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought I was falling for Tareek. I still didn’t know if he was
one of the children
yet.

The next time she stopped by our table, I told Akaysha that I was a modeling scout. She thought I was bullshitting until I gave her one of my cards. I told her to come by the office Monday morning.

“That face oughta be on the cover of
Vogue
,” I told her.

She laughed and tucked my business card into her apron pocket.

“I’m serious. Come by. My friend Bryan Brown would love to take some shots of you.”

“Oh my god, I know him. He’s one of the best photographers in Tallahassee.”

“Yes, and I want you to come meet him.”

“Okay, I’ll do that.”

When Tareek took out his wallet to pay for our meal, Akaysha said, “It’s on the house.”

Tareek insisted on leaving her a twenty-dollar tip. He gave Akaysha a kiss on the cheek followed by a hug before we left. “You keep in touch and be safe over there,” she said.

It was ten after six when we got back to my car in the parking lot of the bar. “Thank you for breakfast,” I said.

“Thank you for the company.”

I kept my hands nervously in my pockets.

“Now can I ask you something?” Tareek said.

“Anything.”

“Can I kiss you?”

I don’t know if my heart was thumping crazy from the walk back to the bar or from the prospect of being kissed by this gorgeous Adonis of a man. My suspicions had been confirmed. Tareek was gay. I wanted to say, “Hell yeah you can kiss me,” but I kept cool.

“Okay.”

I didn’t care who was around or who might see. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to be kissed by Tareek. I leaned against the door of my Cadillac Escalade as he leaned into me. His lips were warm and supple against mine. I thought about sticking my tongue in his mouth, but I didn’t want to come off fresh on what I guessed was our first date. When I felt his arms around my waist, I thought I was going to melt.
Please don’t let me be dreaming this shit
.

“That was nice. You’re a good kisser,” he said.

“Um…you too.”

My dick was so hard in my shorts you would have thought I had overdosed on Viagra.

“You like basketball?” Tareek asked.

“I’ve watched a few games.”

“The Seminoles are playing Wake Forest tomorrow night. You wanna go?”

“Sounds like fun, yeah, sure.”

We exchanged phone numbers. I gave Tareek the address of my apartment.

“The game starts at seven thirty, so I’ll pick you up at seven.”

The minute I got home that night, I grabbed a bottle of lotion and some tissues and jacked my dick as I thought of Tareek deep-dicking me in the ass.

We had dinner the following night at Po’ Boys and then went back to his aunt’s house, as she was conveniently in Biloxi over the weekend. We cuddled on her flower-printed sofa, sliding hands under shirts and between each other’s legs, feeling at each other’s brick-hard dicks.

Tareek kissed me, sliding his tongue in my mouth, past my lips. We kissed each other hard. When I lay on top of him, I felt his dick sticking warm against my thigh. Tareek’s tongue tasted sweet like candy.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

Tareek and I kissed, peeling each other out of our shirts as we walked lip-locked to the room he was staying in. Afrocentric portraits hung on each wall. There was a chest of drawers in front of one of the bedroom windows that were hung with sheer, white curtains and a dresser with tiny blue-and-white figurines that matched the color scheme of the bedroom. It definitely showed a woman’s touch. Items like bottles of cologne, a brush and other miscellaneous male items were strewn along the dresser. A colorful assortment of fake carnations and a clock radio sat on one nightstand while a phone and a couple of crystal candy jars sat on the left side of the bed. It reeked of
potpourri. There were shirts and jeans neatly folded in a white rocking chair in one corner of the room. Tareek’s dog tags hung around the neck of one of the bedposts. We fell onto the king-sized bed that was decorated with fat pillows and a flower-printed bedspread.