I had been working at the joint Army-Air Force site for six months
when word came around that we'd be getting some special forces guys
in. I was curious what they'd be like; the regular grunts weren't
too impressive to a marine-fucker like me. The airborne guys called
them legs but most of them were just skinny guys not worth pumping
a load into. So I kept to myself for the most part and confined
my recreation to the occasional rodeo cowboy in San Antonio.
I noticed him the day he reported in to the unit. His name was Gio
and he was a total asshole. He was over 250 pounds, line backer
size, with dark Italian looks and hairy as a bear. His five o'clock
shadow looked like you could use it for sandpaper by "Oh dark
thirty" as we called six AM when we rolled in to start our
duty day. He had the swagger and the mouth of a New Yorker. He was
a little older than the usual Enlisted puke, and it was hard to
tell if it was because he joined late or just didn't give a shit.
Staff Sergeant Gio Giovaninni smoked his cigars out in the break
area like he was sucking on a fat brown dick and told the pasty
army boys stories of his pussy busting exploits that sounded like
barely concealed rape fantasies. His war stories weren't much better.
They ate it up. Most of them were following him around like puppies
by his second week on station, no doubt hoping that some of his
testosterone would rub off on them.
I liked the way his 20 extra pounds fit his tight uniform and the
way the hair seemed to pour out over the top of his tee shirt and
out from under his rolled up fatigue shirt. He wasn't some chiseled
pretty boy, that's for sure. I could also tell he had some major
meat hanging down in those cammies, mostly because he had that New
York Italian way of checking his package that pulled your eyes right
to it. He tugged at it constantly, as if he was afraid it had dropped
off. When he turned sideways the silhouette of it was almost frightening.
I knew he'd caught me looking, but I didn't give a shit cause his
whole routine was designed to attract attention. I marked him down
as a typical breeder dick head and proceeded to ignore him like
the rest.
If he'd ignored me, it would have been all right. He'd noticed that
I was not too impressed by his act and that didn't go over very
well with his alpha male mentality. Once in a while I'd come up
against one of these guys who weren't happy unless they'd put you
in your place. The army seemed to attract these guys, who needed
to be sure where you stood in the pecking order. He started in with
the joking insults, little games of verbal one-upmanship that unfortunately
he wasn't mentally equipped to win. That just made it worse. Then
he started picking at me. I think he would have liked to kick my
ass, but I'm pretty big myself and since I wasn't in the same service
he didn't have the chance to show me up at PT. I told him I didn't
need to fucking like him, he just needed to snap to and do his job
and that was it. We seemed to have a truce for a while.
We went out one night after a swing shift for some beers. Though
I didn't hang with the guys that much, some of them were all right
and I made a point to treat them to a couple of pitchers now and
then. My NCOIC and I got along real well; I was even pretty sure
he knew the score. So, when he asked me to go, I decided to skip
my cowboy hunt for one night. Well, Gio saw his chance. He tried
like hell to drink me under the table but I matched him beer for
beer and he really didn't hold his liquor that well. If I'd been
smart I'd just have let him win but my pride got in the way. When
he realized I wasn't nearly as blasted as he was, he started in
with the faggot cracks. I moved over chest to chest and asked him
if he was saying what I thought he was saying. He snarled and said
that I didn't know how to take a joke. I was steamed but I let it
drop.
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