I've never told anyone this before, but I was nineteen when I first met the serviceman. All I ever managed to learn about him is that he was on rotation, temporarily stationed at the American base near my city somewhere in Asia. I never even got his name, but it didn't matter--he ordered me to always address him as "Sir."
At the time, I was working shifts as a bellboy at a small hotel. Given our central location and moderate cost per night, we were frequented primarily by international travelers. I sometimes assisted guests with miscellaneous requests, running errands to earn tips in their foreign currencies so that I could save up some money.
One evening, I was making my way through one of the hallways leading to the rooms when a pretty local girl suddenly hurried past me on her way to the exit. She didn't seem to be overly distraught, but she was definitely in a rush to leave. I was curious, so I started to walk towards the direction from which she'd originally come. Around the corner, there were a handful of rooms before the hallway finished in a dead end, and the door to one of the rooms at the furthest end of the hallway was ajar. Guests sometimes accidentally leave their doors open or unlocked, so I decided to investigate.
When I reached the open room, I knocked on the door to announce my presence, as we're trained to do, in case anyone was still in there. It was one of our smaller rooms, consisting of just a bed, desk, and chair in a singular room with an adjoining bathroom, and, peering inside, I saw that it was in slight disarray. The desk and chair seemed to have been pushed aside, and there were a couple articles of clothing strewn across the floor, but it was what I saw on the bed that made me freeze.
Sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, was an American man clad in only his underwear.
"Please excuse me," I stammered. "The door was open..."
"It's alright," he said, laconic, his expression rather inscrutable.
There was an awkward pause.
"Well, Sir, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to let us know," I said, about to turn away to leave.
"Wait." It was just one word, but it was clearly an order. Instinctively, I halted.
He looked me up and down, his face still unreadable yet also somewhat predatory. It felt almost as if he was evaluating me--or checking me out--giving me goosebumps.
"Maybe you can help me," he said.
Reflexively, I swallowed. For some reason, I was suddenly nervous. "Yes, Sir. How can I be of assistance?"
"Come inside and shut the door behind you."
In retrospect, I should've protested. I should've left the room, but I didn't. I couldn't. Something about the situation overrode all logic. Perhaps, deep down, I knew what was about to happen, and maybe I wanted to find out. He sounded so authoritative, and it was like my body suddenly wasn't mine to control. Almost automatically, I obeyed him without question. I entered the room, closed the door, and turned back towards him.
As I did that, he eyed me. Back then, I was around 1.75 meters tall. Since I was still young, I was rather lean, and I had a choppy haircut that was popular at the time.
Similarly, I managed to get a better look at him. He was blond--though his hair was shorn, a typical military buzz cut--and not unhandsome. He was approximately 1.85 meters tall, and he had the usual muscular army guy frame. I'd seen plenty of his type before, but there was something about him that seemed different than the usual guys--he had gravitas. I also spied a silver chain hanging around his neck: military dog tags. And, as I had noticed earlier, he was wearing only a pair of white briefs, to the center of which my eyes were immediately drawn.
There was a fat bulge straining against his underwear; it was unmistakably his penis. I could see its full outline, and I mentally traced its contours from the base to the shaft to the tip and back to the base, from which hung his large sack of balls--evidently, they were full.
Just a couple seconds must have passed, but I was so blatantly staring at it. Of course, he caught me gawking.
