> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.gtv.blue/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Wellington Barracks - URL: https://www.gtv.blue/wellington-barracks/ - Published: 2026-11-14T13:01:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-11-15T00:13:35.000Z - Description: An erotic story about deceit. - Author: Gareth Johnson - Tags: Erotic Fiction ### Written by Andrew It was Spurgeon that got me into it. Clive Spurgeon had been in the Guards 18 months before I joined up, and we met in Wellington Barracks. When I first joined, my mum was proud as punch. My uncle had been in the Guards, and his portrait was on the mantel in the front room as long as I can remember. He was the family hero but died in the war’s final year 13 years ago. He looked handsome in his dress kit with clean boots and a clear eye. I liked barracks life. Good discipline, good grub and the best mates you would imagine. And Wellington Barracks was the best place to be, when the sergeant wasn’t breathing down our necks. Outside, walking through St James in the bright sunshine we got looks. Admiration and respect. Men would tip their hats; women would look with pride; boys would look up in admiration just like I had looked at my uncle Albert’s photograph. We were the best of the Empire. If I paused by the tea stand, somebody would be at my side in no time ‘cuppa, soldier?’ Nights were different though. In the dark shadows men would stand in long coats, hats pulled down and almost invisible but for the red glow of a Capstan as they sucked in the smoke. Spurgeon told me about them. ‘The Gents’ he called them. He said you had to be careful since some were ‘Pretties’ and you had to watch for them. Pretties were the coppers out to catch blokes doing trade. Pretties because they were handsome and bait for the punters, but they didn’t mind nicking a working boy too. End of career. Glasshouse then disgrace for us, if we got caught. Spurgeon asked me after mess one night if I wanted to walk out with him. He said he knew a way I could add a few bob to my pay if I was amenable. ‘Amenable’ he said with a knowing look. I said it sounded grand. Enough guards were at it, so the risk didn’t seem too bad. And I didn’t mind being amenable. I used to wank off with the boys at school and sometimes even let them suck me off. Nothing queer about it. Just blokes messing about. The first bloke we saw was obviously a Pretty but with a boxer’s flattened nose and beady eyes peering out from under his bowler. ‘Pretty ugly,’ Spurgeon said under his breath. ‘You boys out for a walk?’ He eyed us with suspicious intensity. ‘Yes,’ Spurgeon said. There was a pause as he studied us. ‘Might rain later,’ he said. ‘Might,’ Spurgeon said casually. Another pause as the Pretty waited for us to flinch. ‘You boys be careful out there,’ the Pretty said. ‘We don’t want any trouble tonight.’ Spurgeon led us on into the park. ‘Arsehole,’ he said when the Pretty was out of sight. Minutes later he spotted a Gent in the murky light. ‘He’s a regular. Good payer too. Wait here,’ he whispered. I watched as he crossed the path and they exchanged a few words. He beckoned me over. ‘Evening soldier,’ Gent said as Spurgeon stepped away. ‘Evening, sir,’ I said. ‘Nice night for it,’ he said. ‘It is.’ ‘Cigarette?’ ‘Thanks’ I lent in as he lit it, a fine gold lighter whose flame shone onto his handsome moustached face. Bright eyes caught mine and he smiled. Handsome and not a Pretty. ‘Have I seen you before?’ he asked. ‘No sir.’ ‘You look familiar’ he said, then shook his head. ‘No, so young,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Would you like a nice man?’ I asked, as Spurgeon suggested. ‘I might,’ he said. ‘How much?’ ‘7 and 6 for ordinary’ He walked through bushes to a tree lined glade. I threw down the cigarette and followed. ‘New here then?’ He leaned toward me, his breath rich with cigarettes and brandy. ‘Yes sir’ ‘Good man.’ His hand reached down and felt my cock through my trousers. I unbuttoned them, his hand felt cold as it slid into my underwear, a strong but icy grip which only made me harder. ‘The army has made quite a man of you,’ he said, kneeling to release my cock. He slowly took me into his mouth; his hands reached to my arse cheeks and pulled me further into his throat. I let my trousers fall to my knees and pushed down the woollen skivvies down so the Gent could enjoy my cock more freely. In the shadowy light I could see my cock disappearing into his mouth. He sucked deep and then released me, enjoying the sight of my erection before devouring it again. Silently but for our quick breaths. I heard the snap of a twig underfoot and pulled back. He looked over his shoulder and turned back to me. ‘It’s all right, son,’ he said, ‘he’s one of us.’ In the dim light I could see another gent and another guardsman. The unmistakable shape of Spurgeon, even as he dropped to his knees in front of his punter. His gent leaned back to enjoy the young man’s skills. My Gent worked my cock with renewed energy. Silent, stealthy and certain. A tug of my balls and I was nearly ready. I leant forward, my mouth close to his ear and whispered. ‘I am ready to shoot, sir.’ He did not look up, but swiftly and vigorously turned me. I nearly stumbled but for the firm grip he had on my hips. Now, facing away and my hard cock swinging free, the Gent parted my cheeks and drove his tongue into my hole. I braced against the tree and pushed my hips back. His tongue reached harder into my arse with deep darting movements. I had to stop myself from moaning, biting my hand to the point of pain with the pleasure. With equal force, he spun me back and took my hard cock in his hand, the other on my balls. With smooth decisive strokes he brought me back to the edge. He stopped. He looked up at my face, seeing my urgent need to finish. ‘Now sir?’ ‘Now, soldier,’ I breathed and felt the rush of cum from my balls coursing up my cock. With precise timing, I saw his mouth open and the gush of my cum spurt onto his tongue. His mouth devoured my cock as he drew my full load from me, milking me then teasing my sensitive cockhead. In the distance, like an echo of my orgasm, the other Gent shuddered and shot his load silently into Spurgeon’s mouth. I walked the Gent to the path. He turned under the lamp post and pressed a five-pound note into my hand. ‘I knew your uncle,’ he smiled. ‘He did good service here in his time.’ I stood amazed. ‘Albert, wasn’t it? You are the spit of that handsome man. He and I had some good times back then’ he continued. ‘He would be proud of you, son.’ ‘Perhaps I can treat you to a dinner in his honour some evening.’ He slipped a card into my pocket and walked off into the gloom. Spurgeon joined me. ‘Well? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ ‘I think I have,’ I replied. We turned toward the barracks but stopped short. The Pretty was in the path. ‘You boys being careful?’ he said. ‘Careful enough,’ Spurgeon said, his voice laced with contempt. ‘Good to hear, son,’ he replied. ‘Some proper peelers are out hunting tonight. Glad you’re getting home safe.’ --- *This story was written as part of a* [*Naked Men Talking Writing Workshop*](https://www.gtv.blue/i-write-erotic-gay-fiction/)*, in response to the prompt "Deceit". 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