Delta Iota Kappa

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DELTA IOTA KAPPA

by Macout Mann

Chapter 15

Junior Year

Returning for their Junior Year it was James' and George's turn to become mentors. The assignment was not random, but since there was barely a day between the time bids were extended and the time pledges moved in, decisions had to be made quickly. The juniors had some input, but the final choices were made primarily by the president and the pledge master.

George was to mentor Steve Parsons, the statewide diving champ from Key Biscayne, who was also one of the most personable guys anyone in the fraternity had ever met. He was not only handsome, he was instantly likeable.

James drew one of the shyest men ever to be pledged by DIKa. His name was Ozzie Williams, and he was an art major from Omaha. He was a prime candidate, however, because in addition to being a painter who had already been commissioned to do several portraits and who had sold a number of his landscapes, he was a brilliant cartoonist. He expressed the personality that didn't come out in his social contacts through his tart and hilarious drawings.

James had once again given the sex lecture during orientation; and although Ozzie seemed totally shocked at the time, his mentor found a drawing on his desk later in the day depicting a naked James getting head from an unidentifiable youth. The caption read, "Introduction to Greek Life."

Although Ozzie was hardly a "nellie," his behavior was borderline fem, and James' first task was to masculinize him. Gay was o.k. at DIKa. Seeming so was not. And James was an expert at being macho. He approached the issue quite honestly.

"Has anyone ever thought you were a bit feminine?" he asked.

"Well, yes," Ozzie answered, "there was a boy back in high school that used to especially tease me. Really made me mad."

"I can imagine," James said. "And don't get me wrong, Ozzie. We like you the way you are. You wouldn't have gotten a bid, if we didn't. But I think you'll be happier, not only here at Sanderson, but happier generally, if you were a little more macho.

"If you'd like me to help you in that direction, I'll be glad to. Just a suggestion here and there."

"Would you?"

James began with Ozzie's stance. Feet further apart. Fingers thrust down into jeans' pockets, thumbs horizontal. Hands in the back pockets sometimes. Stride, try to take yard-long steps when walking.

Gary Higgins had always felt bad that although his best bud became an Auburn Tiger, he couldn't. Coach Burger let him know that it was easier for his high school coach to coach a center than a quarterback. He gave the sophomore new confidence and started to build a team in which Winslow and Paxton were the lynchpins. He was as tough on the coaching staff as he was on the players. "Paxton!" he would yell, "run the fucking route. Get the feel of where you're supposed to be, then catch the goddamned football!"

Gradually the team began to meld. In the opener, they beat William and Mary 20-14. Max made one of the touchdowns. Gary made another one on an option play, running the ball in from the four yard line.

Even away at Auburn, they were respectable, loosing by only a field goal.

The 1980-81 National Debate Topic was, "Resolved that the federal government should significantly increase its military commitments." James was overjoyed, not because he had strong feelings either way, but because he thought he'd figured out a way to win every debate. He also had been successful in having Eric Jensen become his new debate partner.

His winning strategy was two pronged. He recognized that "military commitments" could have two meanings. First, it could mean strengthening the United States' arsenal with more weapons and greater manpower. That would be the approach most teams would take. But it could also mean "military alliances," that is making treaties with more countries and creating more allies. By taking that tack in an affirmative presentation, they might leave the negative completely unprepared to refute their arguments. And after refuting affirmative arguments for more weapons in a negative presentation, they could still introduce the "alliances" argument, and leave the affirmative without an answer.

How most debate judges functioned was to list each point that a team made, then check off the refutations, and the refutations of the refutations, throughout the debate. The team with the most unanswered points at the end would get the judge's vote.

But the second prong recognized that Sanderson was located only a few miles from Norfolk, headquarters of most major Atlantic naval commands. James had learned well the lesson that if you could produce authorities unfamiliar to the opposing team, only the best opponents would be able to refute your arguments.

The presidential campaigns were going full tilt, as well, and James was sure that many teams would resort primarily to quotations from President Carter or his challenger, Ronald Reagan, to support their positions.

James placed a call to the office of Commander in Chief, Atlantic Fleet, Admiral Percy McMillan, and finally got to talk to his Chief of Staff. He explained that he was "at Sanderson University," was researching the national debate topic, and would like to ask Admiral McMillan a few questions. The Chief of Staff promised to check with the admiral and get back to James, which he did. The admiral would be able to spare fifteen to thirty minutes the following Friday at 9:30.

Admiral McMillan was surprised and annoyed that his visitor was a mere college student, and he reverted to the time honored habit of senior naval officers who call young enlisted men "son." But the penetrating nature of James' questions quickly convinced the admiral that the boy was worth talking to. The interview lasted almost an hour. McMillan, of course, was convinced that more men and more ships and especially more sophisticated, smarter weapons systems were necessary for national security. He summarized his position by pointing out that weapon systems are constantly changing. "Forty years ago the capital ship of the navy was the battleship," he explained. "During World War II it became the carrier. Now it's the submarine. Who would have thought it?"

"Well, we were the first to develop the atomic submarine," James suggested. "Surely the Soviet Union hasn't equaled us in that arena."

"You'd be surprised," the admiral replied, "but you need to talk to Admiral Boynton, ComSubLant." He picked up his telephone and a moment later he was saying, "Earl, I have a young man in my office who needs to talk to you. Do you have a moment?"

After a few exchanges, he concluded, "Good. I'll send him right over." Then to James he said, "He can see you right now. I'll have my flag lieutenant take you over and introduce you."

While waiting for Ensign Newbury, James asked if the admiral could think of anyone who opposed increasing our military commitment.

"Yes," McMillan replied, "you might talk to Willard Smythe at the Naval Academy. I think he's a damned fool, but he makes a case that increasing our weaponry just makes a hot war more likely."

James had obtained the admiral's permission to record the interview, and was just finishing gathering up his paraphernalia, when Newbury arrived. With the aiguillette on his shoulder signifying that he was an admiral's aide, he looked very fancy.

"Mr. Newbury, this is James Winthrop. I'd like you to take him over and introduce him to Admiral Boynton."

Admiral Boynton was willing to add a good bit to James' trove of data. "I can't give you particulars on how our ability to track hostile submarines has increased over the years, but it has. And it's vitally important that we maintain a lead in sonar technology. "It's no secret," he added, "that submarine based missiles can hit targets anywhere in the world, but we must increase the accuracy of our targeting for humanitarian reasons if nothing else."

Next James contacted Professor Smythe at Annapolis and said that Admiral McMillan suggested they talk. "I'm glad the old buzzard is willing for you to hear the contrary view," Smythe responded.

To guild the lily, since his first efforts had been so fruitful, James enlisted his father's help to arrange an interview with the Texas Senator who was Chairman of the Armed Services Committee. Then, using Sanderson's radio studio, James and Eric recorded sound bites from all four interviews onto separate cassette tapes for use in their debates.

Meanwhile, Eric had scoured the Sanderson libraries for evidence for and against increasing the number of military alliances the United States had. The two of them were "loaded for bear."

At DIKa's insistence Ozzie Williams had submitted several cartoons to the "Parrot," and his drawings became a regular feature, satirizing everything from football to fraternity life. After a few reminders from James, his demeanor was also becoming more masculine. It was only natural that James and Ozzie should spend time with George and Steve, and Ozzie benefited from observing the lithe movements of his fellow pledge.

"We want you to be yourself," James reminded Ozzie, "but..."

"Oh, I understand," Ozzie interrupted. "I think I'm beginning to see a difference in how others treat me."

James suggested that Ozzie might try to strengthen his voice a bit. "You've got a light voice," he said. "You're never going to be a basso. But try breathing more deeply, from the diaphragm."

James stood behind his charge, placed his palm on Ozzie's gut, and urged him to kick his diaphragm and see how doing that expelled air. "That's it," he said. "If you breathe from your diaphragm when you speak, it will give your voice more authority."

"Feels good too," Ozzie giggled. He reached for James' hand, which was still on his stomach, and held it in place.

"I know you like to be sucked," he hesitantly exclaimed. "I could tell when you gave us that sex talk. But you've never done anything with me."

"`It takes two to tango,'" James answered. "You've never said you weren't straight. You've never indicated any interest in me. We don't mind guys getting with guys, but we don't take advantage of each other either."

"I want your dick" the pledge acknowledged.

James opened his fly without another word, and Ozzie fell to his knees and took what he wanted.

It was only a couple of weeks after James' visit to the Naval Base that he got a telephone call. "Hi," the voice said, "this is Brent Connor. I just ran across your phone number. I'm sure you don't remember me, but you gave me a lift from Nashville up to Norfolk last year."

"Sure I remember you, now that you mention it," James replied. "Whatcha been up to?"

"Well, our ship's been on a 'round the world cruise, since I saw you. That's one reason I never gave you a call."

"I'd like to hear all about that," James said. "You wanna come up for a visit?"

"If the invite's still open."

"Sure it is. This weekend we're playing Delaware. Might even win. And there's a dance Saturday night. Can I pick you up Friday afternoon at the main gate?"

"You can do that," Brent responded, "but if you don't mind having two of us, I've got a buddy with a car. I guess there's someplace up there we can stay."

"Sanderson Inn will be booked solid for the game. But some of my fraternity brothers will be taking off. We can find a couple of beds, I'm sure. And if you want to go to the dance, we can find dates for you."

"That'd be neat."

James gave directions to the DIKa House, and suggested they try to get there by 5:30 if they could. He talked to Jessica, who talked one of her friends into a blind date with Connor. George's girlfriend arranged a date for Connor's friend. James also arranged with a couple of his brothers to lend the navymen their beds for the weekend, and he let the rest of the frat know they'd be having visitors.

Connor and his friend arrived in their dress whites, looking very spiffy. Both were quartermaster, second class. "We figured we wouldn't take time to change," Connor explained to James, who was waiting in the common room, "but we'd like to, just as soon as we can. And James, this is Warren Lee."

"Good to meet ya, Warren, and good to see you again, Brent. I'd figured you'd forgotten all about my invitation. Come on up, and I show you where you'll be sleeping. And you can get out of those uniforms, if you want to." James thought they both were pretty sexy.

Brent Connor was about six feet tall, a blue eyed blond with a square jaw and an open smile. Warren Lee was the opposite. He was dark haired and hunky with a perpetual five-o'clock shadow and a tuft of black hair peeking over the top of the t-shirt under his jumper. It promised a forest of fuzz reaching all over his chest and trailing down to his pubes.

Fifteen minutes later in t-shirts and jeans they had joined James in his room and had been introduced to Ozzie. James said they had time for a beer before they had to go down to the common room and meet the others. He also noticed that the two sailors had matching navy tats on their biceps.

"We need to be in college instead of the fucking navy," Warren said. "No beer on shipboard. And, man, yall do have some fancy digs."

"Better than most, even here at Sanderson," James suggested. "We're lucky to be DIKas. Most of the houses put two guys in just one room."

Not many wallflowers rise to a second class deck rank in the navy, so James' guests had no difficulty navigating through introductions to all the other DIKas in the common room. They and the brothers quaffed their jiggers of Dickel, and Brent and Warren got to repeat all the standard jokes about what life in the navy was like. At dinner, the president asked James to reintroduce his guests. James said that he wouldn't make them make speeches, but he would say that "I met Brent last year. I gave him a ride from Nashville to Norfolk, gave him my number, and invited him to visit. It took him over a year to accept my offer, but I'm glad he finally did. I didn't get to know him nearly as well as I would have liked during our trip."

The two navymen didn't quite get the burst of laughter that followed James' comments.

In the game room after dinner Brent and Warren took on James and George at pool. After two quick games, it was apparent that the teams had to be rearranged. Brent and James versus Warren and George proved to be a more equitable arrangement. Later some of the house pool sharks vied to take on the navy. They suffered losses almost equal to James' and George's.

It was very late when James returned to his room. Ozzie was still awake. "I think your navy friends are neat," he said.

"So do I, "James ventured. "Too bad they're straight."

"Got you hot and bothered, did they?" Ozzie was becoming much more forward. "Never mind, I'm here."

James sat on the side of Ozzie's bed, pulled back his covers, and licked his soft abs. "They get you hot and bothered, too?" he asked.

"I'm that way all the time," Ozzie replied. He took James' hard dick into his hand and playfully massaged it.

James leaned into Ozzie's groin and took his roommates prong into his mouth. In a few moments Ozzie reciprocated. Each awoke the next morning with the other's soft dick in his face.

At breakfast, James offered to take Brent and Warren on a walking tour of the campus. He also said that he and Ozzie went for a swim every Saturday morning and his guests were welcome to join them.

"We didn't bring any swimming gear," Brent countered.

"We're old fashioned around here," James retorted. "The only guys that get to wear equipment in the pool are the swimming team. Bacteria count's gotta be kept low, you know."

"Really?" said Brent. "Count us in, then."

The four of them went first to the gym, where James swam laps and Ozzie tried to keep up. This was another of James' subtle attempts to masculinize Ozzie. He could use a little strength training, and swimming is one of the best ways to build endurance. The other two spent the half hour rough housing in the water. James and Ozzie both appreciated the size of the two sailors' permanently attached equipment, and saw that Warren also had a second tattoo. Below his beltline was spelled out "EAT ME, HONEY," and James wondered how broad the invitation might be.

Ozzie split after the swimming session, and the other three visited campus landmarks, including, of course, the tennis courts and the union, where George met them for lunch. Afterward, they all met the girls for the game. Miraculously, Sanderson won in the final minutes, and Paxton and Higgins both distinguished themselves, Paxton being declared the game's most valuable player.

That evening, the mood at the dance was particularly festive, and before it ended, the four guys and their dates left the field house for a moonlight stroll and some heavy petting. Jessica asked James to take her back to the sorority house before the others were ready to call it a night; and James never asked George what happened after they left the beach, but Brent and Warren were effusive the next day in saying how much they enjoyed the evening.

After breakfast, the navymen re-donned their dress whites for the trip back to Norfolk. James invited them to stay for Chapel and was really surprised when they accepted the invitation. Seeing uniforms in the congregation, the organist incorporated the Navy Hymn, "Eternal Father, strong to save," into the opening voluntary, which seemed to please Brent and Warren no end. Their visit ended with lunch at the Sanderson Inn, since the DIKa House didn't serve lunch on Sunday.

James thought they had enjoyed their visit. He certainly had. When they finished their enlistment, if they didn't "ship over," James thought they might consider college.

Ozzie's next cartoon in the "Parrot" showed two sailors in uniform sweeping unidentifiable girls off their feet, as several guys look on. The caption read, "Navy makes amphibious landing at Sanderson."

Simon Blaylock's first board meeting brought him to Sanderson early Saturday morning. He had flown from Boston to Baltimore after court adjourned Friday, spent the night at a hotel near the airport, then drove to Sanderson, where he remained until Sunday. He paid a courtesy visit to the DIKa House, spent some quality time with his son, and attended the meeting, but he did not follow the routine established by his predecessor. He did offer to take George and James and their roommates to dinner at the Clapboard Inn, and George asked him to include Max Paxton, whom he'd never met, to make it a party of six. That would pretty much be his pattern, until George graduated. After that he would return to Boston as soon the board finished meeting on Saturday. Strictly business, he was; but no less as effective a board member as Cockrell had been.

The first debate tournament of the year was held at Johns Hopkins. On Friday, Eric opened the first round: "Although increasing military commitments might increase U.S. military expenditures, we must do that only if our allies feel that we must do so, and are willing to participate with us. The question, then, is a diplomatic one, not a military one. And we of the affirmative intend to prove..."

Throughout the presentation, the opposing team was devastated.

Sanderson's debate coach had been a champion debater twenty years earlier. Among his advices: "Dress so that you look like you can buy and sell the opponents before breakfast," and "Don't talk to anybody but your own team members about anything that happens in a debate."

James had his very own debate outfit. A pin-stripe suit from Culwell & Sons, Dallas' premier men's store, and a button-down oxford cloth shirt with a red-and-black striped tie from the same place. Also, to their advantage their team's earlier success had become the number one topic of conversation among the other teams before the next debate began.

James was first up in the second round against opponents from the University of Virginia. The Virginians had been warned and were better prepared than Sanderson's first foes. But against the wrong offense. "The Soviet threat his real," James began. "The affirmative will show that we must better arm ourselves to maintain military superiority." Then, about halfway through his presentation he walked to the cassette player and said. "Just hear what the Commander in Chief, Atlantic Fleet, one of the highest ranking officers in the American military, has to say." And he pressed the "play" button.

In the last round of the tournament on Saturday, James and Eric took the negative. Debaters from the Naval Academy were for expansion of the military. James was up in the next to last rebuttal. "How can our friends of the affirmative make the claims they do, when they cannot answer the issues Dr. Smythe, from their own institution, the United States Naval Academy, has raised?"

The midshipmen had one rebuttal to overcome the charge. They couldn't. So James and Eric won every debate. The beginning of a national rout.

James and Eric hadn't come to Baltimore on the bus with the rest of the team. James had driven them, so they decided to wait until Sunday to return to Sanderson. They found a motel with a fairly good restaurant nearby.

After dinner they returned to their room to celebrate their victory. "I thought that midshipman was going to shit, when you played Smythe's tape," Eric said.

"I did too," James answered. "He was a hot-looking fucker, though."

"Not as hot-looking as you," Eric teased.

"I bet you say that to all the debaters," James laughed, as he drew his partner close, and thrust his tongue into Eric's ear. "But we make a good team, we do. In more ways than one."

Eric unzipped James, and gave his dick a shake. "Spoken like a true DIKa," he said.

They undressed each other, being careful to not rumple their expensive suits. Then they let their hands caress each other to provide the greatest possible sensual satisfaction. "It feels so much better when someone else feels you up, doesn't it?" Eric asked.

"Sure enough," James replied. "And it feels even better when someone licks you in all the right places." And he began to taste Eric's pits, nibble his pecs, kiss his abs, and finally to eat his manhood.

Eric reciprocated. "You have a great bod," he said.

"I want your ass, man," James said.

"I thought you'd never ask. Take me," Eric responded.

James came well prepared. He lubed his prong and prepped his partner's hole, as Eric lay waiting on his back. He stuffed his thick dick into the sophomore's chute, and gave it the celebratory fuck that Eric craved, watching with pleasure each of Eric's expressions as he did so. Slow long strokes to begin with, increasing speed and power as his passion surged, grunting in ecstasy on each short stroke, and finally depositing an ample load of his manhood in Eric's colon as he climaxed. His relentless attention to the other's prostate had already caused Eric to deposit ample cum on both their chests.

The year progressed nicely. A new Dean of Men came on board. He was a Sanderson grad and a DIKa, so he would know the mores of the university from the outset. He had been an assistant at Cal Berkeley.

The twenty-five pledges were admitted to full membership in Delta Iota Kappa. Ozzie had become very outgoing under James' tutorage. His cartoons were the most anticipated feature in the "Parrot," and he had even taken to working out in the weight room of the gym.

Cockrell continued his interest in DIKa. He didn't visit as often as he did, when he was a trustee, but he still showed a particular interest in James, and now in Ozzie.

The football team finished the season with four wins, their best showing since World War II, when all the good talent was in uniform. Max had become a campus celebrity.

George did have a scare after he returned from Christmas vacation. A Radcliffe girl he had been with had missed her period. "She said she was on the pill," George told James. It worked out all right after a difficult week.

Early in the Spring term the fraternity's vice president visited James. "As you know," he began, "the six officers comprise the nominating committee for our elections. We would like to nominate you to be our next president. Will you consent?"

The visit was not wholly unexpected, of course. James had been an outstanding asset to the fraternity, had a sterling academic record, and was well liked by all the brothers. He agreed to the request.

George was nominated to be treasurer.

The election procedure was fairly pro forma. The committee put forth a slate at a chapter meeting. Additional nominations might be made from the floor, but that rarely happened. The slate was elected unanimously.

The newly elected officers immediately began their indoctrination, although they wouldn't take office until the day before finals began. They would be required to remain on campus during Spring break to prepare for their arduous summer task of supervising the selection of prospectives.

Lucky for James. Normally he would have brought Max back with him from Dallas. Normally they would have laid over in Nashville and had sex. But this time, the morning after Max's return he made an alarming discovery. An unfamiliar discharge was oozing from his dick.

In panic, he made a beeline to Coach Judson's office. The offensive coordinator had become a confidant and advisor about most things (other than Max's preference for men). The older man just laughed. "You've just got a case of clap," he said. "A dose of penicillin'll fix it. Go over to the health service. They'll take care of it, and won't pass the word around that you're fucking the wrong kind of gal.

"They will want to know who you've been with."

"Somebody back home," Max stuttered, "I don't know."

"Just tell `em that, then," the coach suggested.

"So you don't even know her name?" The doctor sounded exasperated.

"No sir, I don't." Max answered.

"Well, somebody will," the doctor said, as he plunged the syringe into Max's arm.

"Keep your dick in your pants for two weeks, and come back and let us check you," the doctor ordered.

For Max two weeks without was a severe punishment. He also got with Rick Hernandez back home and told him he'd damned well better get himself and everybody he'd been with to the doctor.

Sanderson's tennis team finished the year as it did the year before. Sports writers were mentioning that James possibly could go pro, but he always said he was only interested in becoming an attorney. He'd play college tennis one more year and then go back to country club pickup games.

The last night of the term. Tomorrow, exams would begin. In another week, Sanderson's One Hundred Thirtieth Commencement would occur.

In the Delta Iota Kappa Chapter Room, one hundred naked fraternity brothers had gathered for the last time. The next time the members met, there would be only seventy-five. And the search for a new pledge class would have begun in earnest. Tonight, however, the reigns of leadership would be turned over to the next slate of officers.

The six who had been elected stood before the retiring slate, took their oaths of office, and then ceremonially knelt before their predecessors. They took dicks in their mouths and sucked. They drank the fluid that maintained and strengthened the bond that held the brotherhood together.

For some seniors this would be the last time they would ever spill the essence of their manhood into the throat of another male. For most, however, having shattered the barrier against man to man sex, there would be other times, when they would not shun the opportunity to enjoy it again.

Copyright 2012 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.