Ticks & Dicks
I was assigned on Temporary Duty (TDY) to an Army post for 2 weeks in the 1980s, to evaluate an Army National Guard company undergoing it’s summer training there. My job was to judge whether they had attained their annual performance goals, and determine what corrective actions they needed to take to improve their combat readiness during the upcoming year.
I spent most of my time in the field with the unit, often staying overnight with them, but also coming back to the main post to sleep a few nights in the transient officers quarters I was given. As a Major I had an adequately large apartment, but being of older construction its bath was shared with an identical connected suite. My neighbor was also a visiting Officer evaluating some other unit’s training, and he spent most of his time away in the woods, too.
One late afternoon we had a rare encounter in our common bathroom, and left the connecting doors open so we could chat about our experiences with the units we were evaluating. As he was about to get into the single shower stall he announced he’d just seen a tick on himself, prompting me to do a self-check on myself, as I finished undressing for my own turn under the water.
That Army post was notorious for its ticks in summer, and was in an area where Lyme disease was active, a fairly recent scare. I’d previously had the medics in the Troop Clinic there remove some ticks from me, so I’d have an official entry made in my Medical Record in case complications developed. Subsequent ticks I just removed myself, but of course the limitation was the body areas one can’t see or reach.
Naturally my neighbor had the same problem, and he called out to ask if I’d mind giving him a tick check before he showered. I said sure, and then he could give me one, too. This actually wasn’t that unusual, something I’d done before with other soldiers living under field conditions. And the serious new threat of Lyme disease made us much more willing to do it. Even so, some guys still thought it “queer” and wouldn’t cooperate with checks, or would only check the upper back, refusing to go below the belt.
But in this case we were both already standing stark naked in the bathroom, so I decided to give him the full treatment while we had the opportunity. Being Military Police I knew how to do an authentic body search, running my fingers through the short hair on his head to reveal sections of his scalp. I checked inside & behind his ears, then worked down his neck and back. I parted the crack of his ass slightly, then brushed the hair on his buttocks with my fingertips to uncover all the skin, before moving down his legs, likewise brushing the hair aside as I went.
When he turned to face me I started at the top again, but not before catching a glimpse of his uncut cock as I’d stood back up, now larger than I previously remembered it. I was afraid to glance down and see how my own fella was doing, but I was getting a heavy feeling that didn’t bode well.
I had him raise his arms so I could do his armpits, which made him squirm a little as I recall. His chest & stomach I bypassed as being his own job, and naturally his cock & balls, but I thought his groin should have a look. I asked him to lift up his stuff so I could peer between his spread legs, a standard order we MPs routinely gave to male prisoners being strip-searched, but that I’d never done before during a tick check.
And yet the deep groin area is one of the most common places to find ticks, and from where the Medics had most recently removed mine, as I mentioned to him by way of explanation following my rather bold request. But he nonchalantly agreed it was necessary because of the Lyme threat and did as I asked.
He cupped his balls up high as I squatted down, his dick pushed straight up against his stomach and now undeniably larger. I wondered if I should say anything or ignore it, and if I was getting into some serious trouble here. I touched nothing, scanning the area where the back of his taut scrotum blended into the perineum, and checking the upper inner thighs to the left & right, too. I stole a glimpse down at myself and yep, this intimate work was having its effect on me.
I leaned back and told him “OK.” He released his package, his rock-hard dick spring-boarding to a fully horizontal position that nearly slapped my nose with its head, half-exposed with the foreskin peeling back. Now I really had no choice but to respond, which went something like this:
“Whoa! I think maybe it’s time to stop.”
“Sorry, sorry!" he said with a forced laugh. "Kinda hard to control yourself when somebody’s got their hands on your backside, even if they aren’t your wife’s.”
I knew bringing “wife” into this was intended to send a clear message that “I’m not a queer!” I decided if anyone made the first move it would have to be him.
“Yeah, well, I guess that happens. I’m really finished anyway, I already did the back of your legs.”
“Right. You still want me to do you?”
“Yeah, I guess we oughta.”
He basically mimicked everything I had done on him, in the same order, except he actually found a tick on my back, near my right armpit. I couldn’t reach it myself, so I gave him a tweezer from my shaving kit and he got it off.
By the time he was checking my ass I had decided not to resist the urge, figuring his precedent had given me the liberty. I let myself go, actually urging myself on, anxious to be fully upright when I turned around and saw his reaction, giving him a taste of, or at least a look at, his own medicine. The ball, or perhaps more accurately the balls, would now be in his court.
“Ah, huh!” he said, his eyes wide as saucers.
“You’re right, hands on the ass does it, sorry.”
“OK, well, I can’t exactly criticize ya then, can I? Wanna let me look under there?”
“Sure,” I said as I hiked myself up, now really getting painfully aroused by this.
"All done," he announced. "No more ticks that I can see."
I let my own boner do its cantilever thing after he was out of the way, giving a little chuckle I hoped might draw his attention to it. But he was averting his eyes and checking the shower before stepping in, so I presumed he wasn't gonna take the bait.
I reluctantly went back into my room. I closed the door, which must have seemed odd to him, but I knew I couldn’t take my turn in the stall until I’d lost this throbbing hardon. Otherwise he might know I was seriously aroused in a way he evidently wasn't interested in, rather than having gotten a passing rise from mere physical touches.
It took less than the time of his quick shower for me to stroke myself to a massive eruption. And then I remained on the bed in a daze, feeling both my cock and entire body seem to come crashing down together, following a couple of long hard days & nights in the field, and a couple of long hard minutes in that bathroom. I was drifting off when…
[KNOCK][KNOCK] “Shower’s open!”
“OK, thanks!” I called back, a bit foggy. I verified that my dick was about back to normal size and grabbed my towel, then opened the bathroom door.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” he said from the sink, still naked as he lathered up his face, no sign of his hardon remaining.
“Not really, I did start to doze off, but I need to get ready for dinner, then I’m going back out to see some night training.”
I realized my voice was a full octave lower, as it almost always gets after some draining sex. But I hoped he’d assume it was because of my being tired, and not guess I had just jerked off a few feet away, from the sexual excitement of that tick check.
That was about the closest I ever got to initiating gay sex in the Army. I suspect he could have been in the same mental agony as I was, both of us balancing lust against our careers, and maybe jail time, unable to judge in those brief moments whether to trust the other guy with our future lives.