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This story involves homosexual activity between high school age boys. If you object to such, or if you are underage, please read no further.
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A YEAR AT
ROBERT E. LEE ACADEMY
by Macout Mann
CHARACTERS PREVIOUSLY INTRODUCED
Cadets
Barefield, (C. Sgt.) Carol, 16 Squad Leader, Room 110, Messes around Bascom, Rory, 17 Care-free non-militarist, Room 112 Baumgartner, Drew, 13 Son of Army Major, Room 110 Calhoon, Elliot, 13 Bright kid, from Kentucky, Room 211 Chesterton, Dean 16 Top scholar, Room 211 Farrier, Scott 15 Newly tough, Room 212 Fulton, Patrick, 14 Tough Juvenile Delinquent, Room 212 Gunnerston, Richard, 12 Gay from Iowa, Room 216 Hammond, William, 17 Tough, Room 212 Hardcastle, Elbert, 12 Baptist Preacher's Boy, Room 110 Harwood, Kenneth, 16 Very bright, Room 112 Humphreys, Fredrick 15 Real scholar, Room 211 MacMillan, Creighton, 15 Socialite's disciplined son, Room 112 McNeil, (C. Lt. Col.) Benjamin, 16 Deputy Battalion Commander Menifee, (C. Sgt.) Jason, 17 Squad Leader, Room 212, Tough guy Montgomery, Jack, 15 Room 216 Muggeridge, Clayton, 15 Room 216 Spencer, (C. Col.) Wallace, 17 Battalion Commander Stephens, Rex, 15 Room 110 Stone, Frank 14 Jock, Room 211 Thatcher, Marion, 13 Bully, Room 216 Walton, Thomas, 14 Eager to please, Room 112 Witherspoon, (C. Capt.) John, 17 Captain, Company B
Adults
Baumgartner, (Maj.) Stefan Drew Baumgartner's father Pugh, (The Rev'd Cdr.) Ellis Chaplain Southerland, (Col.) Malcolm Superintendant/Headmaster
Chapter III
Saturday Night
The day after the Evening Chapel Service, classes began. It was a Tuesday. The rest of the week the new'uns became accustomed to the routine, became acquainted with their instructors, and most of them discovered that academically they had a lot of catching up to do.
During the week Gunnerston was fucked by all three of his roommates. They were surprisingly gentle, given how he had been teased at the beginning. It was immediately apparent, however, that military school was not "going to scare the queer out of him."
Fulton continued to be a horse's ass. Being given "the silent treatment" by the whole squad didn't help. It probably would have been better if Menifee's threats on Day One had been carried out. His attitude also was earning him the enmity of his instructors. There was an unwritten rule, which most new'uns absorbed through simple observation, that language in academic classes was always gentlemanly. Fulton didn't get the message.
As smart as he was, Calhoon discovered that he was woefully behind in all his classes. His scholarly roommates promised to remedy that, because they recognized how bright the young Kentuckian was. He was also remarkably handsome with an open face, dark wavy hair, and the musculature that can only be gained by manual labor at an early age.
In Room 110, Baumgartner was fitting in well with Barefield and Stephens. Hardcastle was still the odd-man-way-out. He couldn't adjust to the casual nakedness, the coarse language, or what he figured was happening after lights-out. It was a new world, and he couldn't adjust. Gym classes and especially the locker room horseplay freaked him out. He couldn't bring himself to pick out a sport to pursue. He wrote his father, begging to be allowed to come home.
Of course it was late August and hot. Lee Academy would not have air conditioning for another fifteen years. And its term began a week or two before most other schools started and lasted at least a week after theirs' ended. Commodore Carter had not believed in excessive vacation time, and most of his cadets' families had never needed the boys to help out on the farm at harvest time.
So when "in quarters" almost all the cadets were always in some state of undress. Windows were always open. In Room 110, Barefield was always naked, Stephens close behind, and Baumgartner was at least shirtless. Sometimes even Hardcastle removed his khaki shirt and wore only his undershirt. Also every night Baumgartner jacked off to the sounds of what was happening on the other side of the room.
Hardcastle did seem to find a kindred spirit in English class. The cadet was also in his History class. His name was Herbert Lindstrom. He was quiet, not quite six feet tall and seemed uncomfortable in class. They had spoken briefly. At Lindstrom's urging they had exchanged addresses--Lindstrom was in Forrest House--and they promised to get together during "free time" Saturday.
Lindstrom was from Charleston, the son of an attorney. He was a wiry blond, and had a nice build, which he'd developed from swimming and golfing. Being from Charleston, he was not totally naïve, like Hardcastle, but the academy was also a new world to him. He had always been a loner, except that back home he had had one special buddy.
He and Hardcastle met Saturday afternoon and soon decided to be friends. Then Hardcastle really bared his soul. Almost cried.
Lindstrom did his best to comfort his new buddy. He put his arm around Hardcastle and said it was always best to take things as they come. "I don't like everything that's going on either, but we'd both best get used to it. And not everything is as bad as it seems. You'll see."
Taps was an hour later on Saturday. Both Barefield and Stephens were bareassed, lounging on their bunks. Baumgartner was in his undershorts.
"You know, Drew," Barefield grined, "we hear you beating off every night. You may as well come over and have some real fun with us." He emphasized his point by hefting his six inch wiener lewdly.
"Might as well," Baumgartner replied. "I've been wondering what it'd be like." He stood, unbuttoned his shorts and let them fall to the floor.
Stephens also got up and went over to where Hardcastle was sitting. Without warning he fondled the twelve-year-old and said, "You may as well get in on the action too, Elbert. Gotta get started sometime."
"No!" Hardcastle almost screamed. "That's wrong!"
Stephens let go and laughingly responded, "Well, after you've watched a few times, curiosity will get the best of you. Nothing feels better, man."
Now sitting on the side of his bunk, Barefield was already playing with Baumgartner's hardening tool.
"That does feel good," Baumgartner panted.
"Not nearly as good as this," Barefield said. He gobbled down Baumgartner's five-inch prong.
"Oh yes," the younger boy responded.
Stephens had come up behind Baumgartner, planted his now-hard shaft against the butt of his companion, reached around and began to tweak his now-rigid nipples. "See what you've been missing," Stephens moaned.
As he watched from across the room, Hardcastle's dick stiffened much against his will, and in his frustration he buried his face in his pillow so as not to see the abomination playing out in front of him.
Meanwhile Stephens sank to his knees, and said, "My turn."
Barefield came off of Baumgartner's dick and turned him around. Stephens' mouth immediately replaced Barefield's. Then Barefield spread the virgin's cheeks and began to tongue his hole.
"Goddamn!" Baumgartner cried. "I'm goanna cum!"
He gave no thought to what was happening, until he realized that he had squirted a huge load into Stephens' mouth. Stephens had taken it all, and rivulets of cum were dripping from the corners of his mouth.
A weak-kneed Baumgartner collapsed on Barefield's bunk, and he heard Barefield say, "Let me have a taste."
Barefield reached out and scooped cum from Stephens' chin. "Don't taste bad for kiddie cum," he said. Then he stood up and said, "Now you gotta do us."
Baumgartner hadn't completely thought through what he was getting himself into, but in his present state of euphoria, he would have done anything he was told to do. He got on his knees, opened his mouth, and welcomed the organ that was being shoved into it.
"Careful of your teeth," Barefield cautioned.
As Baumgartner sucked on Barefield, Stephens lapped his ass, even penetrating Barefield's rosebud with his tongue. "Yeah, suck that dick; eat that ass; make me jizz," Barefield chanted.
As his climax neared Barefield grabbed Baumgartner's ears and began to fuck his face, moaning "yes, yes, yes," until one of the biggest orgasms he'd had since he came to the academy exploded into the throat of the new'un. Baumgartner didn't find the eruption unpleasant, and this time was not surprised that Stephens wanted to share the cream dripping from his lips.
Stephens immediately got on his own bunk and stretched out on his back. "I'd rather lie down and have you on top of me," he told Baumgartner.
The younger boy obediently climbed between Stephens' legs and tasted his sausage for the first time. By now it was coated with both sweat and precum, so it gave Baumgartner a new taste sensation. He also found that he had to do more work, since Stephens' hips were not assisting in the enterprise, but he also found that he had more control and could manipulate the rhythm of his movements. Not to be outdone, Barefield was also sitting on the edge of the bunk. He had poured Jergens Lotion on his index finger and was plunging it in and out of Baumgartner's ass.
To Baumgartner it seemed like forever, but actually after only two or three minutes he was rewarded by squirt after squirt of Stephens' semen. It seemed to have a different taste from Barefield's. Baumgartner wondered if everybody's tasted different.
The three of them lay sprawled together on the narrow bunk. "I can't wait to fuck your ass," Barefield told Baumgartner. "Tonight you can just watch."
"My turn tonight," Stephens giggled.
A few minutes later Stephens coated his dick with Jergens, positioned Barefield with his legs on Stephens' shoulders, and rammed his pole up the Cadet Sergeant's ass. Baumgartner watched in fascination. He had received a year's education in just one hour with still more to experience.
Stephens probed Barefield's anus slowly, pulling back until only his glans penetrated his partner, then plunged down, until his teenaged pubes stroked Barefield's cheeks. Then he accelerated his thrusts, pounding away, until he reached the short strokes that terminated in still another orgasm.
Across the room, Hardcastle, realizing what was happening, couldn't resist steeling a peak at the erotic scene.
Next door in Room 112, the occupants were also not unaware what was going on.
"`Bare-backed' seems to be being barebacked," laughed Bascom, the almost naked sixth-former.
"Well I can see you're almost as horny as I am," ventured Harwood. "Fucking heat this week's made us all fucking horntoads." He was also wearing only undershorts with a gaping opening.
"So I guess I need to get my ass greased up," fourteen-year-old Tom Walton said.
"You need to get off, Cray?" Harwood asked MacMillan.
"I guess, but I gotta admit. I've watched guys fuck each other, but I never did it myself."
"Always a first time," Bascom responds. "The way we've always done it is that we all get to fuck the young'un here, then we draw straws to see who he gets to fuck. So you'll only have a one-in-three chance of losing your cherry tonight."
"But little Tommy Walton will have a one-in-three chance to pop a virgin," Harwood laughed.
"So Walton always has to take all three of us?" MacMillan asks.
"No, we're fair minded," Bascom answers. "Whoever Walton gets to fuck tonight, gets fucked by him and the rest of us the next time we mess around.
"Are you in?"
"Sure, if the rest of you are."
MacMillan was lucky. He didn't choose the short straw. Walton was a short redhead, but like a lot of small guys he had a huge dick. MacMillan wasn't looking forward to getting stuck with that.
MacMillan's had been the third dick to penetrate Walton's ass, however. It had been well lubricated with cum, and Walton felt no pain when McMillan's prong plunged into his colon. MacMillan couldn't believe that he previously had denied himself so much pleasure.
The mood was quite different in Room 212. Fulton had been particularly obnoxious, calling everybody he met an asshole. Menifee decided the time had come for his first real lesson. He had alerted Hammond and Farrier to what he was going to do.
They were all lounging around in undershorts. "Did you clean the fucking latrine, Fulton?" he asked. That was the room's duty assignment today, and it was Fulton's turn.
"Nah, shithead," Fulton spat. "I aint wiping up everybody's piss."
Menifee stood up and pushed his shorts off and strode over to where Fulton was sitting. His tool grew with every step. "I'd hoped that you'd get the picture, motherfucker," he yelled. "But I told you you were going to get fucked, and now goddamit you are!"
He grabbed Fulton, pushed him back onto his bunk, and pulled his shorts down, leaving him exposed but with his undershorts restricting the movement of his legs. Fulton tried to struggle, but the other two cadets made it clear they were prepared to hold him down, if he didn't yield.
Menifee showed that he didn't need help. His strong hands made Fulton's shoulders immobile. His own shoulders forced Fulton's legs into the air, as he rammed forward and stuffed his dry pole into Fulton's dry ass and began to hump.
"Aaugh," Fulton cried. Tears streamed down his face.
"How....do you like....getting raped, motherfucker?" Menifee panted. "It didn't....have to be....this way. But since....you're such a wiseass,....you're probably used to it,....aint ya?"
"N....no! Please stop!"
"Not until....I've filled your ass....with cum, motherfucker."
Menifee pounded Fulton relentlessly, faster and faster, harder and harder, until he sent rope after rope of manseed into the younger boy's rectum and collapsed on top of him until his own dick had deflated.
When Menifee moved away, Fulton wanted to fight, even if he got the shit beat out of him, but he didn't have the strength even to try. He just lay back, totally humiliated. But his agony wasn't over yet.
"Now sit up," Sgt. Menifee ordered. "You need cum down your throat too.
"Suck Hammond and Farrier both off. And if you try to bite, even a little bit, I'll hold you down and they'll tear up your ass just like I did."
Both of the other guys had already stripped and were playing with themselves as they watched Fulton being deflowered. Hammond immediately walked over and snarled, "Eat me, asshole, and watch your fucking teeth."
Fulton's rear end hurt so much he was not about to refuse.
Actually, although like he had said at the beginning, he was not gay, this wasn't his first time to be fucked. He had been similarly abused by two older boys, when he was eleven. But that hadn't been vicious, like this was. And he had also made other boys suck him off. But he'd never sucked before. So in a way, this was more demeaning than being had by Menifee.
After both boys had fed him, Fulton was allowed to watch and learn. "Now, shit-for-brains," Menifee said, "You need to see how you could have been fucked, if you'd been a good boy."
Farrier was the volunteer. He and Menifee demonstrated the fine art of foreplay, and he gave himself to the sergeant for a sexual session satisfying to both of them.
Fulton couldn't believe that the guy who'd just taken him down would let a younger boy do what Farrier did.
For some reason, the nerds in Room 211 seemed content to relieve themselves with their fists. Frank Stone, the football player, had said the coach had told them not to beat their meat, but he did it anyway. And sometimes he was summoned to the room of Baxter Johnston, the Football Team Captain.
Johnston was a sixth-former and a Platoon Leader in Company C, which was berthed in Pickering House. He shared a room with the other platoon leader and the Company Commander. There were several members of the football team who really liked dick, and Johnston liked to give them the opportunity to get together with him and his roommates. Tonight was Stone's turn.
The team captain and the other officers were always tops. They didn't even mess around together. That would be unmasculine.
Stone had to be in uniform to leave Farragut and cross over to Pickering House. When he arrived at their room the guys he was to visit were already naked. The Company Commander was absent. He participated occasionally to show he was "one of the boys," but more often went to the library. It stayed open until fifteen-minutes before taps.
It took Stone only a couple of minutes to also get bareassed. Johnston told his companion to go first. "I already came once today," he said. "It'll take me awhile."
Johnston was a fullback, Stone a lineman. Both were over 200 pounds. Fletcher Patterson, the other Company C platoon leader, was just the opposite. Barely 140, only 5 ft. 5, he still boasted a huge dick that curved slightly upward. It was already rock hard.
Obedient as always, Stone knelt and received the rod Patterson offered. Patterson loved these benefits, that is those that come from being a platoon leader. Otherwise, he was sure he'd be the sucker rather than the suckee.
Stone sucked. Just sucked. It wasn't long before Patterson squirted another gift down his throat. "Fuck, yeah!" Patterson had cried.
Then Johnston offered his dick to his willing and subservient teammate. His dick wasn't as big around as Patterson's, but it was longer and straighter. Stone chomped down on it, being careful to let it feel only lips and tongue, no teeth. He'd learned how to please back before he came to the academy.
Likewise, as Johnston's older brother had taught him, he realized that after he'd cum once, he could make subsequent encounters last as long as he chose. Stone was still bouncing on Johnston's still rigid rod, when the Company Commander arrived from the library.
"Get him off, cadet, and get back to quarters before taps, or you know what'll happen to your ass," Stone was told.
Johnston allowed his dick to spill. It had been a neat almost-half-hour. Stone put his uniform back on, said "Thank you, sir," and reached Farragut House just before taps was played.
A half hour later in the darkness of Room 216 Gunnerston felt a body slide into the bunk next to him. A voice whispered, "I know you think we've taken advantage of you, but I'll do whatever you'd like me to do."
The Robert E. Lee Military Academy....on Saturday night.