Neither of the men really set out to have it happen that day. Tros came over to spend the afternoon with Crowe like he did regularly, to talk war stories and reminisce about their younger days. The rifles they shot in Vietnam, the cars they drove when they got back home, the girls they picked up in those cars, the price of gas. They both love to tell those stories and converse over beers, occasional shots of whiskey.It'd never happened before. It'd probably never happen again. Sure, they'd both had passing encounters with men. Tros'd topped a few guys in his life. Crowe'd taken Nico once or twice--Tros didn't know that. He didn't need to. But they'd never had each other. Never even considered each other. Tros'd especially never imagined himself sucking a dick. Crowe'd never imagined his best friend--his war buddy--sucking his dick.But there was something about the conversation and the drinks, the stories about the girls and their mouths and the way it felt to run your fingers through their hair, it stirred up Crowe in a way he'd never been stirred talking with his old friends. And Tros, he could tell. He could see it in the way Crowe shifted in his seat, tugged at his jeans as they tented up. Crowe got a bit more cantankerous, like there was a pressure valve somewhere on him that needed releasing.Tros, he was lying when he told Crowe he'd "wondered what it was like". To suck a dick. He'd never wondered anything like that, not even on R&R in Australia when he and his squad mate Clyde Arthur spitroasted that kangaroo fella. Tros had always been happy to take the pitcher's role in this sport, but he could see the desire in his old friend's eyes when Crowe talked about how long he'd gone without intimacy. Tros remembered his days out in the jungles of Vietnam, the isolation and desire he felt. Tros remembered how it felt the first time his friend Arthur asked to jerk him off. He remembered how it felt to have that connection again after going so long without, and how it felt like friendship.It was a blur, the way they moved to the bed. Tros had to do most of the clothing removal but Crowe let him, albeit with a lot of guarded masculine fussing and conversation. And when Tros finally took his buddy's cock in his mouth, he didn't mind it. He didn't mind when Crowe ran fingers through his hair, or head his head steady, or bobbed it some. He didn't mind how salty Crowe's cock was, or how hot the room was with them close together like that. It felt like the summers of Vietnam, steamy and warm, a man's hand on his cock and his worries momentarily elsewhere.Collab with Emericana!