This story is fiction. The characters are adults in adult situations. Warnings: The only person you can ever hope to truly know is yourself. Trust no one; use condoms. As my friend BearPup says, "dying for sex" should only be an expression... not a reality."If you are not of legal age OR in a jurisdiction in which this document is illegal, go. away. Now!This is my story. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy it, let me know.
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If you are still reading this let me know. Jim Ford sojourn1950@yahoo.com
Chapter four
I know that a lot of stories on Nifty paste the last paragraph or so of the last chapter to sort of refresh the scene. Well how about a recap. I was a 34 year old Navy Lieutenant. I had kissed my first man some few months before. That had hardened my pecker and strengthened my resolve to explore my same sex attraction. That led me to a Columbia, S.C. adult bookstore, where I met Max. He helped me discover the wonders of gay sex. After meeting Max, I was no longer "fearfully closeted". I actually looked for men who might be sexually interested in me. I became "cautiously closeted".
Fast forward almost two months and I am in the BOQ, Bachelor Officers Quarters, with Robert, a Navy Chaplain with the rank of Commander, (0-5). He has just given me his first blow job and shot his load when I came in his mouth. He was like the proverbial "kid in the candy store". And now, here we are naked in bed together.
Kissing Robert was not like kissing Chief Morrison nor kissing Max and certainly not my wife, who now came in dead last. I now believe that different mouths have different pH levels or chemistry or something that make you react differently to them. For instance, I once met a guy who from the moment my cock went in his mouth, it was a struggle for me not to cum. We had potential, until I learned he was definitely not interested in me, except for my cock.
Back to Robert.
A short discussion and the alarm was set for 5:00 am. I was struck by the notion that this rock solid, former Marine, preacher man was like putty in my hands. He was eager for me to teach him what he didn't already know. I silently swore I would not let him down. Tonight this preacher man would accept my word as gospel. Tomorrow, he might think I was Satan personified, but tonight I was heaven sent.
I told him to sit on the edge of the bed. I knelt before him and spread his knees apart. His cut cock was standing tall again. I was impressed that his manroot was over six inches and very thick. Even as I watched, a string of precum formed from a single pearlescent drop perched on his piss slit. As my hands slid up his muscular, hairy thighs the strand got longer. The pearlescent drop was being fed and in turn was feeding the lengthening strand. I knew I was causing this reaction and it made me proud that I could invoke this involuntary reaction from his magnificent body. I caught the end of the strand on my fingertip. By the time I reached the pearlescent drop I was using two fingers. When my fingers touched his cockhead his whole body shuddered. As I slowly brought his precum to my lips, his eyes followed until our we made eye contact. When I let his precum drip onto my tongue he moaned and I thought he was going to cum. I sucked my fingers clean and dove for his cock. I miscalculated the dive and wound up stabbing my esophagus with his cockhead. Robert didn't notice. All he felt was my throat trying to expel his cock which felt like supple little fingers gripping his cockhead. He loved it. I had tears and snot and wished I had my tee shirt handy to dry my tears and wipe my nose. Spying a box of Kleenex on the nightstand I wrestled my head from Robert's possessive grip and grabbed the box. Robert watched my every move as I dried my eyes and turned my back to blow my nose. We I regained my position I moved Robert's hand that had been slowly stroking his cock. At some point Robert had relaxed onto his elbows. I lifted up on his thighs and he took the hint. Soon his hands were pulling his knees to either side of his chest. I was the perfect position to display all the pertinent parts of his manhood; his brown wrinkled rosebud, low hanging balls, his thick impressive, man choking cock, his massive hairy chest, two pert eraser head nipples a nervous grin and steely gray eyes that begged to know he was not a human sacrifice. I reassured him by dropping down and taking his cock in my mouth. This time I was more careful with his cock of mouth destruction. (Don't bother emailing. I am not at all ashamed. I know the historical perspective is a little precognitive, but I love it!)
Robert let his head drop back and applauded my efforts with moans and almost whispered encouragements, "oh yes! That feels so good! Take it deeper!" So I did. I took it to my gag reflex and let it hang for a moment before swallowing and forcing his cock into my throat. "Oh yes! Oh God! Oh don't stop!" This time he was louder and sounded like some cheap whore or bad porn dialogue, except he was sincere. The mucus you cough up when really deep throating a cock makes excellent lube. When I touched my spit slicked finger to his rosebud, Robert flexed his ass and I swear his rosebud sucked my finger inside. His groan was so low in his throat that it made his own cock vibrate in my mouth. I am sure he thought it was I working some sex magic on his manhood. I re-lubed my fingers and this time I inserted two. I thought he was pretty loose until I brushed his love nut. I felt his sphincter clamp down like a super tight rubber band. After a moment he relaxed. I pull out my fingers and was pleasantly surprised there was nothing offensive to sight or sense of smell. I let go his cock, slid down and began licking his rosebud. Now his moans and groans and cursing knew no shame. "Don't! Don't do tha... Oh yes! Lick my asshole! Get that tongue in there! Yeah! Oh fuck! Just like that!" Robert had been jerking his cock with his left hand and playing with his chest hair with his right. I stood up and moved both his hands to his nipples. "Tease them. Pinch them." I directed. As I said this I smeared his precum over his cock and began to stroke it. I lubed up my fingers and began to fuck his ass, this time using three. He took them like it happened everyday.
I was sure Robert was in a complete state of delirium. And I was thrilled that it was I that took him there. I watched for signs of impending orgasm. I wasn't ready to let him go just yet. I slowed my stroking and finger fucking a couple of times to keep him gust on the edge. Each time I slowed he would pinch and pull on his nipples that much harder trying to bridge the gap to ecstasy.
The first time I didn't believe my ears. The second time it was more distinct, but just above a whisper. Without breaking stride, I ordered, "What did you say, Robert. Tell me what you want." I am not sure where that mean streak came from. I had heard the man. My cock was now throbbing in anticipation. I was almost afraid he wouldn't say it again. Then like something out of "The Exorcist" he raised his head so his neck muscles bulged. With slobbers rolling down his cheek, he glared at me and through a grimace said, "I said FUCK ME! Now do it Goddamnit! Now!" I was happy to comply. I almost shouted, "Aye, Aye Sir!" Instead I pulled out my fingers and spat more lube onto my cock. Without ceremony or caution I rammed my cock into Robert's warm welcoming chasm. This whole time Robert's demanding gaze had not faltered. Only after I was balls deep did he gasp then grunt and let his head rest on the bed. His sphincter spasmed around my cock. I wondered if this was the same muscle that moments ago tried to sheer off my fingers. Still the grip was more than enough to get my attention. I changed the angle of entry just a bit and felt my cockhead glance off what must have been his love nut. Robert verified that supposition with a deep throaty growl. I hit it again! This time he wrapped his legs around me and tried to pull me in deeper while he pulled his nipples hard enough to fill an "A" cup. I suddenly realized I had been simply holding his cock. I smeared his precum and started jacking him at a good clip. I slowed to match my thrusts into his ass. I gave up on coordinating my thrusts with my jacking and simply rubbed his precum slicked cockhead. It was soon evident that Robert's attention began to focus on what my cock was doing to his ass. He grabbed my biceps and used using his legs began to fuck himself vigorously on my cock. This was not in rhythm with my efforts and was not getting me where I wanted to go. I shrugged out of his grip and broke all contact. I pulled him toward me so his ass was over the edge of the bed. I took his muscular calves in my hands and pushed them upward so his ass rode up until it aligned with my cock. I drove forward and began an onslaught against his body intended to fuck him senseless. It took a couple of thrusts but I found his love nut. I pounded it! I'll say that it was a more than satisfying approach because my balls began to tingle. Robert moaned and groaned and continuously used language that would shock the average Christian. Once I found my pace and then began to hump into his ass even faster, his every word was punctuated by a love nut cracking thrust. "Oh. My. God." Sometimes he would manage a rushed, "Fuckme!" His fingers had again found the pair of fun buttons on his chest. He began a series of moans that were modulated by my thrusts. These moans grew in volume until they solidified into a roar that culminated in a shouted, "Oh God! I'M CUUMMMINNG!" The finger cutting vice I had experienced earlier came back with a spasming splendor. It was death grip tight one instant and baby soft the next, but the tight grip was at a different spot on my cock every time. It was a sensation that was impossible to duplicate with one's hand. (I know this. Because I tried it many times afterwards.)
Robert's howl was accompanied by a thick jettison of cum that stretched from his neck to his navel. That volley was followed by several more until his chest and belly looked like someone had sloppily splattered lines of bright white paint on his hairy torso.
Robert's "spasming splendor" coupled with my rabbit like thrusts put me over the edge. I found myself falling into a chasm of ecstatic oblivion as I filled his ass with everything my balls had to give. To save my knees from total collapse, I fell onto his chest and was soon enveloped in a warm welcoming embrace.
The next couple of minutes were silent except for the sound of us trying to recuperate. Somehow we managed to realign ourselves so we were lengthwise on the bed face to face. Robert was on some kind of natural high. He couldn't stop talking about how great it had been. How he couldn't believe he had waited so long to experience "sucking a man's cock and getting fucked in the ass". He modified his enthusiasm by saying, "Sex with my wife has always been good and I love her dearly, but this is so much more... uh, uh, thrilling. Definitely more thrilling! Why would anyone think this was evil? I guess they see it as a threat to the `nuclear family'. I don't see how having sex with men would change the way I feel about my wife and children. No offense Jim, but I don't see this..." Motioning with his hand back and forth between us. "I don't see this as more than a sexual release. I don't know if it will happen again. I certainly hope it will. But, I can't see me leaving my wife and ruining my career for sex.
He looked at me sheepishly, clearly not wanting to offend me. Once he read the smile on my face, he relaxed. We talked for a bit about our expectations and desire to get together again. He didn't mention fucking me and I certainly didn't bring it up. I enjoyed being rimmed but penetration was not on my wishlist.
Now is the time I think to tell you about Marine Lt. Jerry Sampson. Jerry was a good old boy from Alabama. Keep in mind, I am from rural Arkansas, so I am definitely qualified to make that call. Jerry's hero was his grandma, who gave regularly to Oral Roberts from her social security pension and "just knowed" the moon landing had been faked. Jerry had a degree in physical education from the University of Alabama. He prided himself on two things; his physical fitness and his status as a crewmember on a Navy S-3 anti submarine aircraft. Remember I said most fighter jet pilots were nice guys. Well, Jerry wasn't any kind of pilot or copilot. He was a sonobuoy monitor. His ego was centered on his fitness and his flight status. He constantly wore his flight jacket around the base even when the weather was too warm, which was most of the year in Charleston. It was Jerry who pointed out to me that "Lloyd", the admiral's son, mentioned in another chapter, was not legally allowed to wear a flight jacket as part of his uniform. Jerry took it as a personal insult that no superior officer would challenge Lloyd on the wearing of a flight jacket.
Flying to me is simply an expeditious means of travel. I have flown in a couple of helicopters, numerous jet and propeller driven military transports and an endless variety of commercial and private aircraft. I have even flown in a restored Navy attack/bomber and a restored Army Air Corps bomber. I still view flying as a skill that I might have mastered, but I'm glad I didn't have to. I feel the same about the Marines and being a physician. I never forget, my doctor goes home each night to those he loves. He sees me because of the money. He is not god? He is not infallible? He and I understand this and argue over pertinent health issues. Had my parents understood this premise they, no doubt, would have lived longer, happier, less medicated lives. (Putting away the soap box.)
Jerry, one day in the Bachelor Officers Quarters gym paid me a qualified complement. Having just run four miles with me he said, "You know Jim, for a plain looking, old guy who's losing his hair, you're not in too bad a shape. Have you thought about losing a few pounds?" I looked around to see if anyone else noticed what he had said. I caught Woody's eye, he just shrugged and rolled his eyes. Later he opined that Jerry was threatened that an older man had kept his pace for a full run. Jerry was used to starting out a run with others, but then in the last mile he would leave them in his dust. I must admit, I kept up with him, but decided I would not run with him again. His pace was too exhausting. Woody was a few years older than I. He was in good shape and had a nice thick, uncut, 5 inches when flaccid. He worked in base admin. I would eventually get to know his hairy body and his not so flaccid cock quite well.
Woody and I went into the sauna, while Jerry got a shower and left. I mulled over what Jerry had said. It came to me that the man had just said, `I was old, fat, ugly and bald. All in a single breath. Woody stated flatly, "He's probably jealous that you have a bigger dick."
"I thought I was the only one who noticed other men's equipment."
"Have you noticed the fly tattooed on Mike Cortez's foreskin"?
Feeling a bit more relaxed I admitted I had.
"Next time you catch him in the shower, ask him to pull back his foreskin. He has a web tattooed all over his foreskin with a spider tattooed on the head of his cock. He'll tell you all about his drunken night in Singapore. He insists a little old lady did it. I tell him it was probably a guy who fucked him missionary style while doing the artwork. It pisses him off no end. I'm not sure how well he remembers the night, himself. I think he's afraid I might be right." We shared a hearty laugh during which I felt closer to Woody and made a mental note to be on the lookout for Mike Cortez.
The more we talked, the more I thought about teaching Jerry a lesson. When I went to back to work that day I talked to the only female Lt. with whom I ever worked. I mentioned wanting to steal his precious flight jacket and holding it for ransom. Mary quickly divested me of that idea, insisting that Jerry would immediately call Base Security, NIS and ask for FBI support in recovering his beloved jacket. Mary happened to be in charge of the command's fitness program. She told me that she couldn't discuss an individual, but after hearing my story, she confided that Jerry was always in the top fitness category. He had argued with her over his last body fat percentage calculation, in order to stay in the top category. Hell, I didn't even know they had categories, I always thought it was pass or fail. The first time I ran the mile and a half, I did it in just under the maximum allowable for my age. The last time I ran it, I ranked in the top ten of the ship's entire complement, and that was including my taking a wrong turn.
I began to formulate a plan. I shared it with Mary, she called it "devious" and giggled in delight, but refused to help.
I started subtly. I would ask, "Jerry, you're well past the prime of youth. Don't you miss the good old days, of your college fitness. Do you feel yourself slowing down a bit, is your recovery time taking longer"? Another time I might say, "Jerry, you keep your hair really short. Is that to minimize your receding hairline? Or, "Jerry, I just noticed, your torso used to form a distinct vee, now, it's looking more like an "H". Are you gaining weight"? These remarks would invariably lead to a diatribe on how fit he was and always had been.
I sought out help. I got junior enlisted men as well as senior staff officers to comment on his weight or physical fitness. These were random comments from people within the command, even folks in the admiral's office were in on it. This over a period of two months.
One day I came in after having been off the day before. Mary approached my desk, biting her lower lip, "Jim, you've got to do something. Jerry just took his physical fitness test yesterday and his body fat increased by two percent. Jim, he actually cried this morning, in his office. He begged me for a retest. He says that so many people were telling him he was gaining weight, that he went on a diet. He started working out harder and he says he can't understand why this is happening to him. I tried to explain that the new calculations were probably at fault, but I am seriously worried about him. Will you talk to him"?
I hesitated. "Jim, if you don't tell him, I will."
That sealed it. I could imagine Jerry lunging at me from across my drafting table. I went to his office and knocked on his door. I scanned his desk for potential weapons and positioned myself for a possible attack. "Jerry, you know how people in the command have been telling you, you look like your were putting on weight? Or that your physical prowess was slipping? Well, that was me doing all that. I asked them to help me teach you a lesson. I told them what you said to me and they agreed you needed a lesson on how your words can impact someone. All those comments were because of comments you made to me." Jerry's look of confusion remained unaltered throughout my explanation. "Jerry, remember the only time we ran together. After the run you said, "for a plain looking, balding, old guy, Jim, you're not in bad shape. You ever think of losing a few pounds"? In a single breath, Jerry, you called me old, fat, ugly and bald. I should have been content in the knowledge that you didn't outrun me. But, I felt you needed a lesson for being so offhandedly cruel. I don't know anything about your body fat calculations, but Mary refused to help me in this. In fact, she talked me out of stealing your flight jacket and leaving a ransom note calling for a public apology, which was my original plan. I don't regret what I did. I hope it helps to remind you to think before you criticize in the future."
The look of confusion melted into one of... Before I could react, Jerry had me wrapped in a paralyzing embrace. "Thank you, thank you!" Between sobs he admitted that he thought he was going crazy. Even his wife had said something about his physical condition. Lately, he found it difficult to sleep. He hadn't slept at all the night before. He worked out more but just seemed to just get tired more easily. When he had slowed in the mile and a half run and did less than perfect on the calisthenics, then increased two percent in body fat, it all seemed to come crashing in on him.
Mary walked by the open door and came inside to further console Jerry. I made my escape. As I walked down the hall, Jerry shouted, "There's pay back coming! You can count on it, Jim."
Later that day, Jerry actually asked for a formal investigation into Mary's and my actions. It never got beyond his talking to the Captain (0-6) in charge of minefield planning. A man who was only too well aware of my "life lesson" for Jerry. Mary refused to handle the PT program after that. As to payback from him... to my knowledge, it never happened.
Author's Note:Thanks again to Nathan for making this a smoother and better read.
You may ask what Jerry and Mary had in common with Robert? Nothing, Robert was a man's MAN. In fact, he was a gay man's wet dream. I am both, fortunate and proud to have known him.Mary was someone who consistently did her job in an exemplary fashion and never once complained about never being treated as an equal. At my farewell dinner, I singled her out as the person I most respected within the command and stated flatly that the Navy was far behind the Air Force in their treatment of women. That got me some strange looks, a warm hug from Mary and a firm handshake and a hearty "thanks" from her husband. Jerry was an annoying, self absorbed, narcissistic asshole, who probably never learned how to effectively deal with people. It pleases my no end to think of him as fat, old, ugly and bald, coaching junior high baseball. Consider, everyone, except Mary and the Admiral's Chief of Staff, were only too eager to teach this guy a lesson. I'm pretty sure the word spread and some people whom I hadn't even asked, got in a little jab.
Robert, Mary and even Jerry are all part of my "Reflections of a Regular Naval Officer". I guess I have to write about Woody next.
I look forward to your comments. sojourn1950@ yahoo.com