This goes a long way back. Aaron and I were in the Navy together. I was commissioning my second aircraft carrier and Aaron was a newly trained electrician on his first shipboard assignment. Young, confident and just a little arrogant he made a big impression when he arrived. Of course, the fact that he was tall, fit and attractive didn’t hurt his case either.

Aaron and I immediately struck a chord. It’s hard to say what it was, as different as we are; but we found plenty to talk about. In our hours of free time waiting for the ever-late shipyard workers, we talked and it wasn’t long before we were hanging out together away from work. My friends cautioned me about developing a friendship with Aaron because he worked for me and some expressed their concern that he was trying to gain favoritism. I figured I knew what I was doing and could keep my work separate from my leisure. It didn’t quite work out that way.

The truth is I found Aaron’s life incredibly interesting. I grew up in a quiet, middle class, suburban neighborhood with white picket fences and baseball games at friend’s houses on lazy afternoons. Aaron, in contrast, grew up poor and his family was loud and obnoxious, prone to verbal, and sometimes physical, brawls — completely foreign to my respectful and reserved white-bread upbringing.

I loved listening to his stories: from the tales about the home-town drunk who filtered rubbing alcohol through a loaf of white bread so he could drink it, to Aaron’s never-ending supply of stories about sexual escapades with the hometown girls. In fact I sort of lived vicariously through his tales: I had grown up pretty straight-laced, spent six years married to my high school sweetheart, and had recently divorced. I hadn’t spent a lot of time exploring sexually.

Aaron’s stories electrified me, sending chills into places I had long forgotten existed down there. Our six year marriage was a sham; we had sex for about the first six months and then the well dried up; and even petting got me nothing. Then the nagging began about how I was over-sexed or a pervert to always want sex. Yeah, the difference was I always wanted it because I wasn’t getting it. It wasn’t like I got it every time I asked and then wanted more and more. I’m digressing…

Things went on like that for quite some time: he and I sharing our stories, sharing our time, and developing an incredibly close friendship. We were the best of friends.

Then I began to visualize his stories as he told them, picturing him crawling into the tent with a lakeside summer conquest, or hoisting the town slut onto the hood of a parked car so he could finger her before plunged his dick into her primed hole.

After a while it didn’t matter what we were talking about, I fantasized about Aaron being naked – wondering about how much pubic hair he had, how big his dick was, and other odd things, like how much hair he had on the small of his back! And boy was I terrified. This was scary territory – I was thinking about stuff I believed was long in my past, things I had decided were the wonderings of every adolescent boy. Don’t most boys get their sex education from screwing around with their buddies?

Well, as time went on, the shipyard did their job and the aircraft carrier we were assigned to was ultimately ready to go to sea. It was time to move onboard.

Now for a little background: enlisted berthing spaces on naval vessels are not luxury space. The more area used by people to sleep, the less room available for the really important stuff, like bombs. The beds, if you can call them that, are stacked 3 high and attached to one another, both on one end and at one side. Picture bookcases placed back-to-back. Sailors don’t call them beds or even bunks: they’re called “racks” – just like the medieval torture devices. With only 19 inches from the top of your 2” thin mattress to the bottom of the rack above you, there’s not a lot you can do in there. The only beds with space to sit up are the top racks – and they are prized and coveted. Normally these are reserved for the senior enlisted petty officers in each berthing space.

Basically, there’s no privacy and you get to know the people around you very well. Like when a guy comes back from the shower and tries to dress, if you are in the middle rack his dick or his ass is in your face while he pulls on his skivvies and then his pants. You get to know the noises they make when they sleep, their sleep schedules and yes, even how long it takes them to jack off (usually about two minutes).

I guess it sounds sort of weird, but it just boils down to 130 men all living and sleeping in one rather large room. There’s nowhere to get any privacy and everyone just learns to ‘live and let live’.

Well, like I was saying, it came time to move onboard and take the ship to sea. Being one of the senior people in the division, I was lucky enough to get my choice of racks. Up top, in the back, with a somewhat less desirable rack attached on the long side – I sort of expected no one would move into it. Of course, I was very pleasantly surprised, and a little unnerved when Aaron chose the adjacent rack.

It was cozy up there. Aaron and I could sit up and, looking over the 24” partition separating the two beds, talk, share stories from the letters we got at mail-call, pass the CD player back and forth to listen to music we both liked. Basically we built a little clubhouse. We hung the standard-issue blue curtains from the ceiling around the perimeter of both racks, effectively partitioning the space off – we called it ‘the cave’. We didn’t know at the time that our shipmates were calling it the ‘love shack’. They apparently, had better insight than we did.

Well, now that we were living onboard we started going to the gym together. Aaron was very health-conscious and spent a couple hours every day working out. At his invitation I joined him, running on the Stairmaster next to his, spotting him while he lifted weights and vice versa. Ultimately we started to plan our work schedules, sleep schedules and leisure time around the gym. It was great and I got into better shape than I had been my whole life. Not that I was bad: I’m about 6’3”, 200 pounds with a linebacker build. Aaron has pretty much the same build and we were very compatible in the gym.

Our facial features, though not similar, were close enough that people mistook us at a distance. Light brown to blond hair and almost matching shades of pale blue eyes. Whether by accident or not, we ended up in the showers at the same time pretty much every day – usually twice a day. And I wasn’t unhappy about it.

I found myself stealing quick glances at Aaron as he stripped to get into the shower. His lean build, accentuated by wide shoulders and an incredibly distinctive v-shape to his back gave me pause every time he walked away from me. Of course, his hard, tight ass caught my attention as well. It was funny, he would comment on my progress in the gym while we were showering. Comments about the definition of my calves or the progress of my lats became common. In turn, I noted the improvements he was making – particularly on his current obsession, the “v” of his back.

One afternoon, I noticed the hair on Aaron’s arms seemed thin. Getting a little closer I found it was trimmed very, very short. Aaron caught me looking and said he had shaved it to highlight the definition – the same way professional bodybuilders shave their bodies before a competition. Later that evening in the gym, I noticed his legs were trimmed to about the same length– about what you’d get with a pair of clippers used without a guard.

Well, curiosity got the best of me and I made reference to his virtually hairless legs as we headed to the showers. He seemed nonchalant about it and said he had shaved most of his body and even trimmed his pubes. He said he thought that made his dick look bigger. As always, he entered the shower first, while I shaved and brushed my teeth. About 30 seconds passed and he called for me to come over. When I rounded the corner, he was standing buck-naked with his back to me.

“How does my back look?” he asked casually.

“It’s looking better,” I responded, “the ‘V’ is more defined and looks a little broader.” The next thing took my breath away.

He turned toward me and asked what I thought of his abs. Quickly I looked up from his limp but puffy dick to inspect his abs – but too late, I’d been caught “meat-gazing”. I stammered that they looked fine and, red-faced, turned back to the sink to spit out the toothpaste I was about to choke on. Of course, I didn’t look away fast enough to miss the incredible vision of his neatly trimmed pubic hair and the flaccid penis, long enough to hang lower than his nearly hairless balls.

Aaron was thankfully in one of the small shower stalls when I finished brushing my teeth: I was embarrassed and couldn’t bear for him to look at me. I hastily undressed, grabbed my towel, soap and shampoo and headed to the other stall. Hanging my towel on the hook outside, I opened the translucent vinyl curtain, adjusted the water temperature and stepped in.

I had just put shampoo in my hair and was squeezing my eyes shut, when I heard my shower curtain open and a cool breeze rush over my skin. Shocked, I opened my eyes to find a wet, naked Aaron standing half in my stall. He reached past me to the ledge in back of my shower and picked up my shampoo bottle. As he was pulling the bottle to him, he lightly grazed my torso, just below my navel with the bottom of the shampoo bottle: “Sorry, I was just borrowing your shampoo.”

He closed the curtain and went back to his own shower while I stood there dumbfounded, shampoo burning my eyes, watching my dick rise on its own to point at the ceiling. I decided he must not have been too offended by my checking out his dick.

After that, Aaron often forgot soap or shampoo or his razor. He would never ask for it before I got in the shower – I’d just hear the curtain open and, more often than not, feel the back of his hand lightly graze my skin, as he took whatever it was he needed. It started with light, almost imperceptible taps, but over time his hand pushed more firmly into my flesh — touching my back, skimming my shoulder blades, his forearm glancing off my chest while I soaped under my arms.

Then one afternoon, it happened.

As he reached across me, I put out my hand and grabbed his forearm. Pulling it to me, I placed it firmly on my shoulder, his palm resting against the shoulder muscle just where it joins my neck. Stopping, he looked directly into my eyes. I held his gaze for about a second and then asked, “Does this feel tight to you? It feels a little more tender than normal.”

Aaron kneaded my pain-free trapezius and then, stepping all the way into the cramped shower stall, he used his other hand to grasp the opposite side of my neck. Holding the top of my shoulders firmly in his hands, he kneaded them for about 5 or 10 seconds and said the left trap felt a little tight, but nothing abnormal.

Just as he was about to step out of the shower, his dick brushed against my left thigh. We both looked down at the same time and I noticed his penis was swollen and bobbing slightly in tempo with his pulse. Aaron shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s been a long time. It gets hard every time the wind blows. Looks like you have the same problem.” Of course, I could feel the blood rushing to my dick – my entire body was tingling and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

With that he stepped out of my shower and back into his own and I was left standing under the intense beating of the warm water, trembling inside. After he closed his curtain, I lubed my dick with the shampoo and in about 10 seconds came all over the walls of the shower. Washing the walls with my hand, I watched my cum pool into little stringy shapes, swirl around on the floor and run down the drain. I really hated people who jerked off in the showers, but there was no way I could get out of the shower with a hard-on, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to go down by itself. Not after that encounter.

Looking across the aisle, through the translucent curtains separating us, I thought I saw Aaron pumping his own dick, but then he stopped and I decided he had just been washing his balls.

Nothing was said of our odd little encounter, but for a while Aaron stopped forgetting toiletry items. We still worked out together, but afterward Aaron often skipped his shower until later or he would shower quickly and be at the sink brushing his teeth before I finished brushing my own. It was mildly uncomfortable and we each seemed a little gun-shy for a while. We each quietly suffered our silently orchestrated dissociation, performing our own internal penance, hoping against hope that our brief shower encounter was a quirk.

Our penance concluded one evening in a similarly quiet way. Aaron was working late on a project and I went to bed early. Around midnight, I felt the racks shake and heard Aaron crawling up into his side of our little cave. After a few minutes I felt the peculiar light rhythm of someone masturbating.

As my penis began to stir in my shorts I realized with a mix of dread and delight that Aaron was jerking off less than two feet from me! I lay quietly, listening to his breath deepen and intensify as his excitement grew. What I had expected to be a quick jerk-off session just kept going. He was pushing himself to the edge and then pulling back, slowing his stroke, breathing deeply to prolong his orgasm. This was the most exciting thing I had heard in all my life. I just had to have a peek.

Carefully, quietly, slowly, I tensed my abs and raised my shoulder blades from the thin mattress. Every movement I made felt like an earthquake to me, and it seemed like an eternity before I could relax my stomach muscles and lean back on my elbows. By now, Aaron was again accelerating his hand motions, pushing himself toward climax. I absolutely had to see this.

There was just enough light seeping from a nearby bunk to discern outlines in the darkened berthing space. Being extremely careful, I eased my head close to the partition separating us. Aaron slowed his stroke again. I was afraid he heard me moving. I remained motionless, barely breathing, for what seemed like eternity. Then, Aaron tentatively began to stroke his dick again. I was close enough now to hear his hand as it brushed against his pubic hair. My own dick pulsed in my shorts and I thought I would cum just listening to him.

After several seconds, I quietly edged my head up, a millimeter at a time, until I was certain the top of my head could be seen over the divider. I paused, listening to the rhythm of Aaron’s stroke. Hearing no change, I again crept upward. Now I was at the top of travel on my elbows and I had to roll my chest toward the partition, lifting my right elbow and leaning even closer to the thin metal divider. I could smell his sex. His musk rolled over me in waves, accompanied by the sound of his hand moving slowly up and down the shaft of his penis. I pushed ever so slightly higher with my left arm and my eye popped above the top of the divider. Aaron stopped. I froze.

Aaron was lying on his back, his white briefs pushed completely off his left leg but still dangling on his right ankle. His eyes were closed and he arched his neck so his face was almost touching the wall over his head. His right hand was wrapped around the head of his penis, but he wasn’t moving.

I was certain I was caught. But slowly he began to move his hand back onto the long thick shaft of his dick. Moving off the head, he found the loose fold of skin and wrapped his fingers around it. With his left, he gently pushed his balls back and forth, massaging the area to either side of his engorged penis. Slowly and with deliberation he began to masturbate again.

My eyes were locked onto the head of my best friend’s big swollen cock as he pushed and pulled his foreskin back and forth over the head masturbating himself. I wished the light were better so I could see if he had pre-cum. Just at that instant, that inopportune moment, the bunkmate under Aaron clicked his bunk light on. Again I froze, paralyzed by fear.

And then I looked to his face to see if he saw me. To my shock Aaron was staring right at me! My body jerked at the force of the surprise. As I started to pull away and lie down, I saw his hand coming toward me. I was certain he would hit me – after all I deserved it for encroaching on what little privacy he had. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact.

Instead he put his fingers (the same fingers that only moments before had been wrapped around that incredible prick) under my chin and pulled me gently back, raising my face to a better vantage point. I looked into his eyes to read the emotion there. His eyes, eyes I had only dreamed of staring into, were soft and warm with the feelings we were suddenly sharing. I was frightened, unsure of what this would mean to our friendship – the friendship that had felt strained ever since that afternoon in the shower.

As if in answer to my probing eyes, Aaron began to massage his dick with his left hand, while keeping my chin caught between his thumb and forefinger. I didn’t look. I didn’t take my eyes from his. I kept my eyes locked onto those blue circles like they were going to save me from falling from a huge precipice and slowly I regained my footing, my erratic heartbeat calmed. After a moment, Aaron brushed my cheek with the tips of his fingers, running his thumb over my lips. His finger was so close to me I could smell his musk and then he slowly withdrew his hand, putting it back on his gorgeous swollen cock.

I stared, enraptured as he slowly pulled himself to the brink of orgasm. His breathing quickened, his neck arched, but this time he didn’t close his eyes. He continued staring directly into my eyes, into my soul. Again he slowed. I couldn’t take it any longer.

Behind the partition I began to fumble in the baggy boxers I used for sleeping, fumbling to free my own throbbing erection. Aaron’s eyes widened as he realized what I was doing. Encouraged by his eyes, I began to stroke my own dick. It was already oozing pre-cum and I could hear the slick noises as I continued stroking my cock.

Apparently Aaron could hear it too because he reached across the partition and put his fingers into my mouth. As he felt around in my mouth I realized he wanted my saliva. I worked my tongue a couple of times and managed to excrete a small of amount of spittle for him. Leaning my head forward just a bit, I spit into his open palm. When he returned his hand to his penis, he slowly lubricated the head and foreskin. He returned his hand to my chin and I again spit into his now moist palm. This time there was more saliva.

He began to leisurely lubricate his dick with my saliva. It’s a good thing he got it when he did, because suddenly my mouth was parched, my tongue stuck to the back of my throat. Aaron made slow circular motions starting at the top and rolling his loosely clenched hand down and around his swollen penis, allowing the tip to brush against the inside of his wrist. I had seen his dick before and it had looked big, but as he was masturbating I visually calculated that it must be over 8 inches. And it was almost perfectly straight, curving ever so slightly toward his flat belly.

I continued to watch him, my eyes darting between his face and his hand running up and down the length of that incredibly perfect uncut cock. And then he began to smile – a wry smile, an almost imperceptibly turning-up of his mouth at the corners. As his breath deepened and the veins in his neck began to protrude, he continued staring directly into my eyes. Just as he came he opened his mouth slightly and took in a quick breath.

The first spurt went all the way to his neck, hitting him just to the right of his Adam’s apple. The next two eruptions landed on his belly, one above and one below his flat little navel, catching in the fine hairs he affectionately called his “happy trail”. After a couple more small squirts, he was done. His hand stopped and his penis began to soften, but oddly not shrink as I expected.

I continued to work my own dick. The pre-cum had long dried and I was using a cautious touch to prevent chafing. With the excitement of Aaron’s orgasm, I was nearing my own, but I slowed to prolong the moment. As I slowed, Aaron reached up and put his hand on the soft part of my neck, just over the jugular vein.

His fingers were wet from his own orgasm and they were cold on my skin.

Instantly I released my dick, reached across the partition and dabbed at the cum on his neck. It, too, was cold and as I pulled my hand back, I leaned it toward my nose, smelling the sweetness of the sticky liquid. On an impulse I wiped it onto my own dick. Once again I reached across, this time wiping the cum that was pooling in and around his navel. I swabbed it on my own dick and reached back for the small amount that had collected at the base of his penis, matting the short hairs there.

As I withdrew my hand, Aaron pushed me down as he leaned up and looked across the partition.

I lay back, slowly using the lubricant my best friend had just produced to jerk myself off. It was an incredibly erotic feeling, the cum slowly drying in my hand. To make sure I came before it was dry, I extended my left hand to Aaron’s chin. He had been staring at me, watching me as I had watched him. He quickly pulled some saliva and spit into my outstretched palm. What an incredible rush!

I wiped the saliva quickly onto the head of my dick and began to move my right hand quickly over the swollen cap. With my left I again put my fingers under his chin, but this time instead of spitting, he took my middle finger into his mouth, sucking slowly and massaging with his tongue, almost as if he were sucking a cock. Releasing my finger, he reached up with his right hand and spit onto his fingertips. I froze. I watched with anticipation as he reached across the partition and wiped the collected saliva onto the head of my dick. He gave my dick a couple of quick squeezes, then he pulled his arm back and suggested with his eyes that I should finish what I’d started.

It was incredible. With all the excitement of having been touched, it took only about thirty seconds for my orgasm to explode out of me like a volcano. The searing liquid hit my left cheek and the second volley landed square onto my left nipple. I closed my eyes and lay back, basking in the warmth of my orgasm and cum. And then I felt Aaron’s touch.

His fingers rubbed against my cheek, wiping the cooling liquid that was running toward my ear. I opened my eyes to see Aaron smell my cum as I had smelled his.

Then he did the unthinkable: he stuck out his tongue and touched his fingers to it. Withdrawing his tongue, he rolled it around in his mouth like a sommelier sampling a fine wine. Satisfied, he licked his fingers clean and reached across to wipe my chest and belly for second samplings.

I lay stock-still watching the man I had fallen in love with lick his fingers, savoring my briny semen. It was just too good to be true. I touched my wet fingers to his lips and he silently kissed them. Then turning back to his side of the divider, Aaron lay down and we drifted off to a most peaceful sleep, physically separated by a thin metal wall but bound tightly together by the knowledge that we were now one.