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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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Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
A YEAR AT
THE 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 Ellis (C. Lt.), Roger, 16 Platoon Leader, Company B 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 Johnston, (C. Lt.) Baxter, 17 Football Capt., Platoon Leader Lindstrom, Herbert, 12 Hardcastle's friend, Forrest House 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 Patterson (C. Lt.), Fletcher Platoon Leader, Company C Plunkett, Kent, 17 Big-dicked football player 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 Brown, (Coach) Hyram Wrestling Coach Draper, Winston Math Teacher, Proctor Fulton, Andrew & Eleanor Patrick's parents Hardcastle, (The Rev'd) & Mrs. Elbert's parents Pugh, (The Rev'd Cdr.) Ellis Chaplain Southerland, (Col.) Malcolm Superintendant/Headmaster
Chapter IX
Into Spring
The term continued.
Lindstrom had returned after a frustrating experience in Charleston. His first "special friend" had taken up with another boy and wasn't interested in continuing a relationship, especially on a three-way basis, with Herbert. Funny. Herbert had become more "liberal" at the academy, realizing that sex didn't always mean love, while his friend had not.
He shared his Christmas experience with Elbert. Elbert in turn told him what had gone on with Baumgartner. He also admitted that he had taken a jar of Vaseline from his parents' medicine cabinet. He used it the first time he fucked Herbert. Herbert didn't have to bring lotion.
Herbert relished having Elbert's ass for the first time. For Elbert it was the first time a dick had penetrated him, and he couldn't believe how great it felt. Herbert, having experienced sex with his roommates at Forrest House, was a more creative fucker than Elbert had been, and Elbert learned variations that he was able to use when it was his turn. And it was his turn more and more often.
Meanwhile, Baumgartner couldn't wait to share his Christmas vacation experience with their two other roommates. He was sure that Hardcastle would now join in their fun.
The next Saturday, Barefield, naked as usual, didn't hesitate to move over and sit next to Elbert. He grabbed Elbert's hand and placed it on his own half-hard tool.
"Stroke it, man. We know you want to."
Stephens jumped in. "Yeah, `Hard-case,' it's time you joined the fun. Suck this motherfucker, and I'll suck you. He bared his dick too.
"Both these guys taste real good," Baumgartner said.
Baumgartner wasn't going to let the others force Hardcastle into anything he wasn't ready for, but to encourage his new suck-buddy he stripped to his underwear.
"Feeling Barefield's dick stiffen in his hand, Elbert was overcome with desire. "I do want to," he murmured.
Taking that as his cue, Baumgartner lost his khaki boxer shorts, fell to his knees, freed Elbert's already-rigid pole, and went down on him, beginning a round robin of cock sucking that lasted until after lights-out.
Remembering what Herbert had once said, Hardcastle—or "Hardcase" as he now began to be called—thought he was joining in "to be one of the boys or because he was really horny." But it turned out that, like Lindstrom, he participated more and more often and enjoyed it more and more. Soon he joined the anal as well as oral activities of his roommates. He really had become one of the boys.
Bascom also patiently continued to work with Hardcastle with great success. And as Hardcastle's strength inproved, his technique at wrestling did as well. The coach was very pleased.
Hardcastle actually began to find that he enjoyed the sport. He was more accepted by his teammates. And he found himself more into the give and take of academy life. He even found himself occasionally using the vulgar slang of his fellows.
Creighton MacMillan was glad to return to the relative freedom of the academy, but he was still furious at his parents. He decided to "show them!" He stopped studying and devoted himself to having fun. Having fun involved two things, sports and sex.
His inattention to his studies soon earned him a summons to Mr. Draper's room.
"MacMillan," he began, "Several of your instructors have brought to my attention that your work has precipitously declined in quality since the Christmas holiday. As your proctor, one of my duties is to investigate such things. You've gone from one of the top students in the fourth form to someone that could easily flunk out. Sometimes these things can be explained by events at home, family problems, that sort of thing. We really want to help. We do want every cadet to excel."
"I don't think you can help, Mr. Draper. In fact I really don't care if I do fail."
"Surely you don't mean that," the proctor responded.
"Yes, sir, I do. I really like being here. And there's nothing new that's happened at home. But I'm me. I'm not my dad. I don't give a fuck--excuse my language, sir--but I dont! I don't care that my family has been here since before there was a country! I want to be able to have my own friends! And if it means flunking to show my folks how I feel, I don't give a shit!"
There were no tears. He was 15. Real men don't cry.
"So you are not studying just so you can show your folks you're mad at 'em? Don't you realize that you do need to learn? You don't want to wind up digging ditches do you?"
MacMillan didn't answer.
"Can I or the chaplain or somebody get in touch with your parents? Maybe we can make them understand how you feel."
"No way," MacMillan answered.
He headed for the gym. There he found William Hammond.
"Want to toss a few?" Hammond asked.
"Sure," MacMillan answered.
They alternated making free throws, keeping track of how many each made. Then they played one on one until it was time to get ready for chow. As they headed to the showers, Hammond said, "Noticed you going to the proctor's. You get an ass chewing?"
"Nah. Not really. Some of my teachers are upset 'cause my grades have gone to hell. I told him I didn't give a shit anymore."
"How's that?"
"Oh my folks don't want me hanging out with some of my friends. They put me in fucking hack all during Christmas. I decided I was just going to play the rest of the year."
They got under adjacent showers. MacMillan was soaping up his tool a little more vigorously than he needed to, when Hammond sang out, "That the sort of playing you were talking about?"
MacMillan blushed in embarrassment, but quickly decided he didn't have anything to lose. "Sometimes," he replied.
"Want some help?"
Hammond had a reputation of being one of the toughest guys at the academy. So MacMillan was really surprised when the sixth former crossed over and grabbed his sudsy wiener.
"Always feels better when somebody else plays with it," Hammond grinned.
"Or sucks on it," MacMillan ventured.
"You do me and I'll do you," Hammond said.
So they began a relationship that also came to involve Hammond's tough guy roommates, especially Fulton and Farrier, who were closer to MacMillan's age.
The proctor had been impressed with MacMillan's demeanor. He decided that he should discuss him with the chaplain. He explained the situation to Cdr. Pugh as best he understood it, including MacMillan's hostility to his parents and the reason for it. He thought that perhaps the chaplain would want to contact MacMillan's parents.
Cdr. Pugh felt otherwise. "We don't really know what the boy's relationship with his parents is," he pointed out. "The cadet may be making a mountain out of a mole hill."
"But it's not going to help if he deliberately flunks out. And he likes it here."
"Very well, I'll at least talk to him."
MacMillan was not happy when he was summoned to the chaplain's office. "You sent for me sir," he said.
"Yes, son. Your proctor, Mr. Draper, came to see me the other day. He let me know that you didn't want him to, but he has a real interest in seeing you succeed and seeing you satisfied with your life. Believe me, we all do. And deliberately neglecting your studies is not a way to do either.
"You were obviously enjoying your work last fall. You were a top student. So you can succeed. And believe me, flunking out of anywhere can't make you happy in the long run.
"Won't you tell me what the problem is? I promise it will stay between us, unless you tell me otherwise."
The chaplain had planned to kiss MacMillan off. Just another smart-ass kid. But as he looked at MacMillan's patrician features and remembered what Draper has told him, he had a flash back to his own youth. MacMillan hadn't said anything, but he saw himself in the boy's face a half century ago and changed his attitude.
He had grown up in the enclave called Brookline, which is surrounded on all sides by Boston. He remembered his father's reaction when he announced that he was becoming a postulant. His dad was not pleased, but consoled himself by thinking he might one day become rector of Trinity Church in Boston. When Ellis announced that he was going to become a naval chaplain, however, his father was furious. It was a breach in the family that was never repaired.
MacMillan sensed Cdr. Pugh's real concern and bared his soul to the older man. How he had been sent to the academy as punishment for associating with the wrong crowd. "They went to the same school I did," he said. "Why shouldn't I?" How he'd been restricted over Christmas. Why he was acting out.
"I know how you feel, son. But you have a great life ahead of you. You don't want to damage your prospects. After all, you are subject to the dictates of your parents until you reach majority. Think about it. Do their bidding for a few more years. Then follow your own star. That's what I did."
The two of them talked man to man for almost an hour. MacMillan left with a renewed dedication to his studies but an equal dedication to the fun he was having, which he didn't discuss with the chaplain.
He had neglected to write his parents. So he was not surprised to get a letter from his mother asking why they hadn't heard from him. He responded with a note that said that he had gone to school for years with the kids they didn't want him to associate with. If they were good enough to go to school, they should be good enough to pal around with.