After PT shower leads to excitement

After pt shower leads to a world of experiences and a new world for Matt the Army sergeant

upied stall to free up. The rhythmic patter of water was the only sound. He was just about to turn away and wait when the hissing spray cut off.

The cheap, off-white vinyl curtain scraped back with a suddenness that made his breath catch.

Oh.

It was Private Jenkins. Tall, lean from the daily grind, water sluicing down the taut planes of his stomach. And between his legs… Matt’s brain short-circuited. He’d seen guys in the showers a thousand times. A quick glance, eyes forward, mind your own business. Army etiquette.

But this wasn’t a glance.

This was a stare. A full, arrested, hypnotic lock of his gaze onto the thick, heavy weight hanging between Jenkins’ thighs. It was… disproportionate. Impressive in a way that felt utterly primal. Matt’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t even aware his own towel had slipped, pooling around his ankles on the damp tile.

A drop of water fell from the private’s hair, tracing a path over his collarbone. The world snapped back into focus with a lurch. Shit. Matt fumbled, bending quickly to snatch his towel. As he came back up, his eyes were level. Directly in line with that undeniable, soft weight. The heat of the shower stall seemed to intensify, pressing against his skin.

“Damn, SSG,” Jenkins’ voice was low, a rough chuckle threading through it. “Didn’t know you were into the view. Thought you were married.”

Matt jerked upright, his face flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the steam. “Jesus, Jenkins. Sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t staring.”

“Yeah you were.” The private didn’t sound angry. He sounded… amused. Interested. He made no move to cover himself. “It’s okay. Happens more than you’d think.”

Matt’s heart hammered against his ribs. The confession hung in the air, thick and undeniable. He should leave. Grab his shit and get out. But his feet were rooted. His eyes dragged back down, against his will, tracing the thick vein that ran along the side.

Jenkins took a half-step forward, the space between them evaporating. The clean scent of army-issue soap mingled with something muskier, more intimate. “You wanna touch it, SSG?”

The question wasn’t a leer. It was a quiet, daring offer. A key turned in a lock Matt had kept tightly shut for years. A dizzying rush of desire, forbidden and sharp, obliterated his last shred of propriety. But his mind, ever the strategist, grasped for a lifeline. For a way to make this insane moment real.

His voice was a hoarse scrape. “Okay.” He swallowed. “But… if I do… I want to take a picture. Send it to Amber.”

Jenkins’ eyebrows shot up. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Your wife? Hell yeah. Show me what she says about you stroking my cock.”

The permission was absolute. Matt’s hand, which had been clenched at his side, trembled as he raised it. He fumbled for his phone on the bench, the screen blurry under his thumb. He opened the camera, the lens pointing down.

This is really happening.

He reached out. His fingertips brushed the damp, coarse hair at the base. Jenkins let out a soft sigh, his hips giving an almost imperceptible push forward. The skin was hot. Silky. Unbelievably soft over the rigid core beneath. Matt’s palm settled around him, his fingers not quite meeting. God, he’s thick. He gave an experimental stroke, a slow, firm glide from root to tip.

Jenkins’ head tipped back against the tile with a quiet thud. “Fuck, Sergeant. Yeah. Just like that.”

Matt’s own arousal was a painful, demanding pressure against his towel. He focused on the feel in his hand, the weight, the way the skin moved so fluidly under his grip. He lifted his phone, angling it. The flash was off, but the sterile fluorescent light of the shower room was stark, unforgiving. He captured it: his own tanned, strong hand wrapped around the Private’s substantial erection, water droplets gleaming like diamonds on the flushed head.

He sent it. One image. No text. To Amber.

The phone was tossed back onto the bench. Now both his hands were free. He wrapped the other one around Jenkins’ length too, marveling at the girth, at the sheer, obscene reality of it. He began to work him in earnest, a dual-handed, twisting pump that made the younger man gasp.

“She see it yet?” Jenkins panted, his own hands coming up to brace against the stall wall, his knuckles white.

“Give her a second,” Matt murmured, his focus narrowing to the task in his hands. He used his thumb to smear the bead of moisture that had gathered at the tip, spreading it down the shaft, slicking his strokes. The wet, rhythmic sound filled the stall. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over the heated skin. The urge to take him into his mouth was a sudden, violent ache in his jaw.

His phone buzzed on the bench. Once. Twice.

Jenkins’ eyes flew open, dark with hunger. “Is that her?”

Matt didn’t stop his motions. He reached a slick hand out, groping for the phone, nearly fumbling it. He swiped the screen open.

Two messages from Amber.

The first: a wide-eyed emoji.

The second: Holy shit. Is that real?

A wild, reckless laugh bubbled up in Matt’s chest. He held the phone up for Jenkins to see. The Private’s eyes scanned the words, and a groan tore from his throat, part triumph, part pure need.

“What do you write back?” Jenkins demanded, his hips now thrusting in time with Matt’s fists. “Tell her… tell her it’s the biggest one you’ve ever seen. Tell her you’re gonna make him come.”

Matt’s thumbs flew over the screen, his movements frantic. It’s real. Jenkins from my unit. You have no idea how big. He hit send. Immediately, three pulsing dots appeared. Amber was typing.

The anticipation was a live wire. Jenkins was breathing in ragged gulps, his stomach muscles clenching. “She typing? What’s she saying?”

The phone buzzed again. Matt read it, his blood roaring in his ears. He looked from the screen to the achingly hard cock in his hands, then back to Jenkins’ desperate, waiting face.

“She says…” Matt’s voice was ruined, raw with lust