Warning:
This is a story about a very bad time in the language of that time, and not for the sensitive.
You’d talk like this too if you lived back then.
Historical background:
1959. You are queer and you got drafted. You’re in the Cold War “peacetime” US Army.
When two queers do it, that is two criminals committing a felony. At 18 you have done it a few times. It is considered so unmentionably disgusting that no one normal talks about at all, not even to say how bad it is.
You also did it once with a girl and didn’t care for it.
Drafted. Every healthy working class young man gets drafted. Queer? Mention it and you’ll never get a job, so you play it cool and do your time like any normal guy. And you look like a normal guy.
The story:
You just finished basic training at Fort Dix New Jersey, and you’re on three day leave in New York City with a bunch of buddies in the same situation. Unlike them (in addition to being queer) you are from the City.
One of the others suggests a run to a whorehouse he heard about from some guy, saying “I know some of you boys are cherry so now’s the time”. You say you’re not cherry and you want to visit your mother before you ship out. They laugh at you a little, but not in a mean way.
And you’re not even lying, just there’s some other business you want to take care of first.
You can’t take the chance of getting caught in uniform in a gay bar, but there’s a place in Central Park where queers sneak away and the cops tend to look the other way. You go there just after sundown and see a bunch of queers of all ages milling around, most of them normal looking.
You approach a middle aged man in a business suit and flirt a little. Within a few minutes you’re in the bushes and he’s sucking your dick. That’s how it goes.
The old boy is a real expert at it. Probably been sucking dicks since before you were born.
As you zip up, he says “Now how about something for me?”
You decide to play dumb. “Money?” you say, knowing what comes next.
“No not money you dope, I’ve got plenty of money. Now you suck *my* dick.”
“Sure, buddy”
The old boy drops his pants. You bet he needs a blow job real bad.
You start slowly, gently cupping his balls one in each hand. Then you grasp his balls firmly and pull down hard. Then you pull upwards and dig in with your thumbs. He starts to scream and then gasps and passes out with the pain.
You go through his wallet. The old boy wasn’t kidding about having plenty of money.
Then home to mom before nine PM (she’s expecting you), and a light home cooked supper. You will show off your uniform to your little sister the next morning.
And that is what queers used to call doing it army style.
— END —
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/byd2ch/what_queers_used_to_call_doing_it_army_style