Hello, I'm happy that many people enjoyed and rated my episode highly, even without a sex scene. I think it was essential to fully understand the mindset of everyone involved. Thank you again for your continued interest. "The barracks. The days drag on, monotonous, punctuated by drills, waiting… and forced asceticism. Then finally comes the announcement: another leave, just a weekend. Smaïn invites me to his place. I listen, my heart pounding, but a hesitation holds me back. I ask him, "And your parents?", my brows slightly furrowed. "Won't they find it strange, me showing up like this again?" Then I add, more quietly, "And your brother, Karim… Won't he suspect anything?" I think back to that look, that sly smile, the way he stared at me as if I were a challenge. "And your friends, back in the projects, at the café…" I shake my head, torn between desire and fear. "What will they think?" He shrugs, as if my fears were Ridiculous. "My friends, I don't care. We didn't kiss in front of them, after all." His tone is light, almost amused. "Besides, you're very masculine. Nothing effeminate about you. You're nothing like those fags in the garden giving blowjobs! And I don't see why Karim would suspect anything." A silence. He narrows his eyes, then his face lights up with a mischievous smile. "My mother, she made it all up for my father and Karim." He bursts out laughing. "She told them you were almost engaged, that you confided in her over tea." And above all…" He shakes his head, amused. "That if you got married, you'd choose me and Karim as your best men." He mimics my voice, exaggeratedly solemn: "I can already picture my brother, in his stupid Marseille tracksuit, his dick hard, thinking that your wedding would be the perfect opportunity to pick up all the French girls." He laughs. "She's the one who confessed her lie to me." The first night, freed from military discipline, we surrendered to each other with a long-suppressed eagerness, careful this time not to soil the sheets, having taken off our pajamas. Around three in the morning, desire united us again. But a pressing need to pee tears me from his arms. "I'll be right back, I have to pee," I whisper to Smaïn. No use looking for my pajamas, lost in the disarray of the sheets, swept away by the passion of our Foreplay. My penis, still fully erect, points in the dim ambient light. I grab my towel,He wraps it around my hips and slips me out of the room, as discreetly as a thief.At that moment, Karim emerged from the end of the corridor, his waist wrapped in a hastily tied fouta. His erection lifted the fabric almost horizontally. Our eyes met. He observed me, I gazed at him. A silence fell, heavy with unspoken words. He smiled slightly, tilted his head a little, as if gauging my reaction. "We won't be able to pass each other like this, will we? The corridor's too narrow in our condition…" he murmured, amused, but with a hint of curiosity in his voice. He let the silence linger, as if to see if I dared reply. His gaze slid down to my towel, then back up to me. "You look well-endowed, too…" he murmured, with a touch of challenge. I couldn't help but retort, a little annoyed but flattered: "And you, you've got a veritable obelisk down there." Then, after a calculated hesitation, he adds, his tone lighter: "You're Breton, aren't you… So that's a menhir you've got down there?" His gaze slides down to my towel, then back up to me, as if searching for a weakness, a reaction. I feel he's testing me. I reply, amused but cautious, drawing out the syllables: "Yes… and some damn granite… from Brittany." I pause, observing his expression. He hesitates again, then, with a slow, almost theatrical gesture, he slightly opens his fouta, barely reve ...

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