Date: Mon, 6 Aug 2018 19:54:18 +0200 From: James Rozo Subject: A Brat's Peregrination-4 A Brat's Peregrination - 4 By Ensign James Rozo, USN - - - - - - - - - - - - - Author's Notes: The ancient Greeks had two words for time: chronos and kairos. The former refers to chronological or sequential time, while the latter signifies an opportune time for decisive action. While chronos is quantitative, kairos is qualitative. Kairos time represents discontinuity, when an unexpected barrier forces deviation from a planned course and adjustment to new realities. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chapter 4: Kairos Ascension Midshipman 4/c Hopkins is the Navigators' newest adherent. Descendant from an extraordinary bloodline, he is a prized addition to the noble cause. Hidden in plain sight, he wears a small gold `M' device on his pistol marksmanship ribbon. The true significance of the special designation is only understood by disciples of divine masculinity. Word spreads covertly around Bancroft Hall. The confraternity imparts blessings upon the plebe. Enthusiastically attending to the needs of the academy's commissioned officers and the brigade of midshipmen, he consumes a stunning assortment of rich velvety custards. Possessing unique attributes, Hopkins is selected for a special mission. - - - - - - - - - - - - - YP-665 departs Santee Basin. The 80-foot yard patrol craft built by Stephens Bros, Inc. is utilized for midshipmen navigational training. Displacing 55 tons, equipped with two 12V-71 marine diesel engines, the craft can cruise for 1,800 nautical miles at 12 knots for five days without refueling. Seductive breezes whisper of possibilities. High above, wispy cirrus clouds - sailors of the sky, drift by. Charting a north-west course the craft navigates five miles up the Severn River. Aboard are twelve exceptional midshipmen - a mix of upper classmen and Hopkins, aged 18 to 21. Personally selected by the Commandant of Midshipmen, the young men possess highly-honed skills and the proper disposition. All are Navigators. "You nervous?" asks Calabrese, the 1/c midshipman operational leader. "A little. It's my first off-campus mission," explains Hopkins. "Don't worry, everything will proceed smoothly," throwing a reassuring arm about Hopkins' shoulders, "they are powerful and eccentric... but mostly harmless." "They'll all fancy you Hopkins. You're so getting fucked," laughs Spicer. The 2/c midshipman from Montana is strikingly handsome with auburn hair and gunmetal blue eyes. Lean and powerful, the 155lb state champion wrestler has a stunning physique - a profusion of granite muscles sheathed within unblemished alabaster skin. "Screw you, asshole!" Hopkins knows he will be taking more than his fair share. While he worships divine masculinity and craves oral communion with his creator, he's not as enamored with being fucked. Not that he's had much choice in the matter. A rite of passage, all plebes take a turn over the barrel. "Relax, everyone has a role to play... and fate will have its say," advises Calabrese. Due to proximity to Washington DC, the Naval Academy has forged close ties to many important men - including the beltway's homosexual elite. Progressive and likeminded, the Commandant is a member in good-standing with access to leadership's inner sanctum. The secret society's annual weekend retreat is scheduled at a secluded location. Accessed by private invitation, the powerbrokers will revise strategic plans, propose new policies, and evaluate current initiatives to advance the acceptance of homosexuality in society and the military. Activities are also planned to celebrate their inverted culture. The debauchery of the Friday night kickoff reception is legendary. It's an opportunity for gentlemen to freely indulge sublimated desires without fear of repercussions. And this year the Commandant is generously supplying midshipmen as entertainment and facilitators of fantasy. For Annapolis, besides accomplishing covert objectives and currying political favor, it's an excellent opportunity to assess young Navigators under adverse real-world conditions. A calm sea does not make a skilled sailor. So the limits of endurance, lubrication, friction, and wear will be tested. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Daylight fades to dusk as the YP approaches St. Helena Island. Situated in Little Round Bay, the private 16-acre wooded island has a long sordid history. Owned by several wealthy families over the centuries, morphing through time, the enclave is the intellectual and libertine playground for progressives, revolutionaries, and homophiles. Subversive politics seasoned with scandalous debauchery is soup du jour. Demanding greater individual liberties, breaking free of rigid social constraints, extreme deviation is the new norm. While righteous men patrol the power corridors of government during the week, they freely indulged perverse sexual predilections on weekends at St Helena. Excitement grows with the expectation of hedonistic madness. Erections are clearly outlined in the midshipmen's dinner dress uniforms. With white jacket, black trousers, gold shirt studs, black bowtie, gold cummerbund, and miniature medals, the iconic uniform is worn to formal functions in the summer when civilians normally wear black tie. "The world is crazy... perverts everywhere," said Spicer. "Look in the mirror," retorts Hopkins. "Eat me," laughs Spicer, grabbing his tumid gear. Hopkins has sampled the cuisine many times. With logistical assistance from upperclassmen, they have enjoyed clandestine rendezvous in Bancroft Hall's basement labyrinth. Immersed in delightful diversions from strict military routine, the fellator practiced and perfected his art. The midshipmen on the YP understand the importance of the mission. Deploying irresistible assets they will forge new and solidify existing alliances with congressional members. Charming appropriations committee members, they also hope to secure resources for new initiatives. The secluded island sanctuary sports specular sweeping vistas Occupying the crest is the elegant centerpiece. Built on a Palladian style five-part plan with colonnaded porticoes, the 6,567 sqft Federal Period brick mansion has six fireplaces, exquisite mahogany woodwork, imported marble floors, and spacious salons with coffered ceilings. Isolated from law-enforcement intrusion, several safes built into the masonry harken back to when the prohibition-era speakeasy and illegal casino catered to prominent citizens. The ebb and flow of time obscures the past. And for a brief moment St. Helena had a prominent seat at history's table. - - - - - - - - - - - - - In 1953 a presidential executive order bans homosexuals from federal employment and military service. An incredibly paranoid time, anti-communists fueled by McCarthyism insanity see subversives and traitors everywhere. Broadly demonized, inverts are ruthlessly hunted and prosecuted. Fighting back, the homophile movement has its roots in the American Communist Party. With its utopian vision of an enlightened revolution it battles for acceptance and equality. Providing secure logistics, St. Helena serves as the secret headquarters and meeting place for The Mattachine Society of Washington. The militant homosexual group is named after a French secret society of masked men who, through their anonymity, criticize ruling monarchs with impunity. Many radical plans are hatched on the island. And vitriolic diatribes penned for dissemination to influential publications. Embroiled in political and social upheaval, the government is at war with its citizens for the next two decades. As the nation struggles through counterculture, social, and sexual revolutions, the Vietnam War, civil disobedience, and demonstrations, law enforcement agencies increase surveillance of deviants. Raids, arrests, and interrogations ensue. Incarceration with psychoanalysis, aversion therapy, and castration is routine as psychiatry appropriates homosexuality from religion and transforms it from sin to mental disorder. And it's believed all deviate sexual behavior is treatable if not fully curable. As the Red Scare progresses the association with communism concerns many Mattachine members. After the founders resign in protest, the guiding principles are replaced with a more moderate ideology similar to that espoused by liberal reformist civil rights organizations. The madness slowly attenuates. Although improved by 1976, it is still deleterious to be identified as a homosexual... and grounds for immediate expulsion from military service. And the struggle for acceptance, assimilation, and equality continues. - - - - - - - - - - - - - The YP docks and secures her engines. Four yachts are already tied to the pier. Disembarking, the midshipmen ascend an ivy covered knoll. Following a meandering flagstone footpath through a dense forest of white oak and hickory, they pass meticulously manicured gardens with colorful perennials, ornamental shrubbery, and red azaleas. Marble fountains and Greek statuary populate the estate. Dionysus is the focal point of the west garden. The naked androgynous youth is the god of the grape harvest, winemaking, unrestrained consumption, ritual madness, fertility, and religious ecstasy. The midshipmen enter the mansion... promenading in military splendor. Two-dozen silhouettes are clustered in the smoky grand salon. They are enjoying Partagas Presidente cigars - a premium Cuban offering of uncompromising quality. The robust blend of sweet natural tobacco, with subtle hints of dark chocolate and coffee, gradually increases in intensity and ends with a delicious cream flavor. Masculine and sensual, the redolent aromatics conjure visions of 19th century Havana. A reproduction of Caravaggio's Amor Victorious is prominently displayed in chiaroscuro lighting. The homoerotic painting shows Cupid, a mischievous nude winged boy of twelve, armed with bow and a quiver of arrows. The god of desire, affection, and erotic love is shown prevailing over all human endeavors: music, science, war, and government. Radical European socialist thoughts about sexual relationships are being discussed. Of particular interest is the emergence of new homosexual subcultures, youth's eccentricities and exaggerated mannerisms, and the bohemian flare for the bizarre and outrageous. Conversations cease as the young stallions are greeted with a resounding cheer. Changing the room's dynamics, elevating expectations, the sudden rush of excitement is intoxicating. Feasting with hungry eyes, the men envision a spectacular evening of unbridled pleasure. The magnificence and alluring charm of the midshipmen are their tight fitting uniforms. Caressing genitalia, providing no place to stow gear, the elegant uniforms accentuate masculinity. With amazing couture, it's no coincidence the Navy is the service of choice for discerning young men. "Boys! Welcome to St. Helena," greats the host. The senior senator from Maryland, a sexual dilettante by inclination, is open to exploration and new adventures. Exceptionally handsome as a young man, he is now on the downward slope of attractiveness. Such is the transient nature of youth and enchainment of time. "Thank you sir," responds Calabrese. "The Commandant sends his personal regards and best wishes for a successful meeting." "Please convey our appreciation to the Admiral for providing excellent companionship." "Of course, sir." "I do hope we can arrange more frequent collaborations." "It's a privilege to serve our leaders, sir." Anonymity is in-order for the soiree - a masquerade of sorts without paper masks. Honoring the organization's Mattachine Society roots, the gentlemen have adopted French resistance fighter nom de plumes - Claude, Francois, Edouard, Louis, Matisse, Gaspard, and more. Concealment and lies are second nature in Washington. Perpetuated to insulate from scandal, extortion, and blackmail, it affords protection from powerful special interest groups, criminal organizations, and overly ambitious law enforcement. Unspeakable inclinations must be hidden from prying eyes. Because knowing perversions' true name gives power and dominion to their enemies. Introduced as Marie, the recently retired FBI Director's flamboyant mannerisms, muliebrity, and couture validates whispered innuendoes and rumors. Maintaining confidential files on adversaries' indiscretions, he possesses embarrassing information that, if leaked, would destroy careers and reputations. Feared by Congress and Presidents, the FBI grows into the world's preeminent law enforcement agency with seemingly unlimited reach and resources. Well trained, the discreet midshipmen recognize the important wielders of authority, influence, and fate. But they pretend otherwise. Co-conspirators, they also operate in the shadows, slowly advancing their own agenda, strengthening and expanding their sphere of influence. There is great power in the knowing and keeping of secrets. Crystal decanters materialize. Pappy Van Winkle's Family Reserve 20 Year 90 proof bourbon is the beverage of choice for the special occasion. Considered by many to be the world's finest, distilled and bottled in Kentucky, the dark amber bourbon is extremely difficult to procure due to very low production and high demand. The midshipmen are plied with generously filled snifters. The tulip shaped glassware, with a tapered opening inspired by nosing glasses, is the perfect vehicle to experience the bourbon's concentrated aromas as the Master Distiller intended. Served neat, it would be criminal to vitiate the exquisite flavor profile with distractions. Star athletes in high school, attending countless celebratory parties, the midshipmen are experienced consumers of potent beverages. Possessing high tolerances, the bourbon has little effect. Engaging in salacious conversations, they efficiently work the room and maneuver towards their assignments. At a minimum each will accommodate two gentlemen. Most will entertain more. The men represent a benign subspecies of an increasingly wild zoo of inverts. Their preferences have been meticulously documented by covert field operatives. And the Commandant ensures there is a suitable midshipman to satisfy every taste and inclination: top, bottom, dominant, submissive. Although yearning for different adventures, all crave young flesh. The seductive quest for forbidden fruit is impossible to resist. Harboring a fascination with boyishness, the men romanticize and idolize youth. Focused on physical attractiveness... the wrapping is valued over its content. While not as young a pre-teen Sea Scouts or students at NAPS (Naval Academy Preparatory School), the midshipmen are just boys compared to the middle-aged and elderly gentlemen. And a thing of beauty is a boy forever. The midshipmen entertain the men with sea stories of initiations and sexual exploits aboard ships. Reaching into the archives of depravity and delight, they perform dirty ditties, raunchy limericks, and bawdy ballads that have imperiled innocence and offended sensibilities from time immemorial. `Billy Roy cabin boy, nautical little nipper. Lined his ass with broken glass, and circumcised the skipper.' Adventuresome hands brush against tempting asses and tumid gear as the gentlemen explore youthful landscapes. Attractive and available, the midshipmen are a significant upgrade from their usual diet of mediocrity: boy prostitutes, hustlers, and street urchins populating Washington's seedy underbelly. Like the other military academies, Annapolis discreetly supplies exceptional young men to select clientele with impeccable credentials. Buried deep within arcane US Federal Code is a cloaked condition of continued congressional compensation for charmers, coquets, and catamites. Exceeding expectations, the Navy is the preferred provider for the White House and Capitol Hill. Several naval bases strategically located across the country and overseas also provide enlisted sailors to support State, Justice, and other federal department requirements. A tangled web of manipulation is being woven. And the pursuers are pursued in pursuit of pleasure. Midshipman 1/c Calabrese and a gentleman from Virginia makes eye contact across the salon. They know each other. With a subtle gesture an impromptu intersection is arranged. Words are quietly exchanged as admiring glances are directed towards Hopkins. And an understanding is reached. Trained in the subtle art of seduction, playing well-defined roles, the midshipmen identify their targets and lure them in like the Sirens of Odysseus. Insinuating desire in the unwitting men, they stir the imagination with the promise of the otherwise unattainable. The demonic power of words and alcohol inflame repressed fantasies. Attacking known vulnerabilities, the boys skillfully create the illusion of fulfillment. But like psammead, magical creatures that grant wishes for the duration of one day, the midshipmen's erotic spells will disappear with the next sunrise. "This is amazing," cries a gentleman with a racing heart. "So how do we proceed?" asks a new congressman. Government is a complex hierarchical organization with clearly defined levels of seniority. Within Congress, seniority is primarily determined by length of service, leadership positions, and membership on powerful committees: Appropriations, Armed Services, Finance, Rules, and Ways and Means. Although it does not reflect the line of succession or the co-equal status of the branches under the constitution, the `order of precedence list', maintained by the State Department's Protocol Office, is adhered to for diplomatic, ceremonial, and social events. Spirited conversations and verbal sparring ensues. Each man desires a son of Tros, King of Dardania. Breaking with formal protocol, disregarding rules and regulations like desperate gold-rush prospectors staking land claims, frantic voices try to declare rights and jurisdiction over particular ganymedes to satisfy aberrant inclinations. Many of the men are interested in erotic role play: father & son, coach & athlete, scoutmaster & boy scout, priest & altar boy, doctor & patient, police & juvenile offender, rapist & victim... and endless variations. Extensive paraphernalia and accoutrements are available to enhance the fantasy. Selections were anticipated weeks ago by the Commandant. And with very few exceptions the parings prove correct. At least for the first round. After that anything goes. Resting and recuperating between rounds, most men will naturally wish to experience as many midshipmen as possible. While the majority will actively engage the boys in all incarnations of sexual pleasure, a handful are inclined to watch from the shadows. Taking the initiative, caressing the elegant dress uniforms, buttons are undone, belts unfastened, and zippers lowered. Seductively stripping the accommodating midshipmen, shirts, trousers, and undergarments are ceremoniously removed as young flesh is revealed. And the salon is strewn with the detritus of discarded clothing. The young stallions delight in displaying their proud masculinity. Their bodies invoke images of classical mythological heroes and gods portrayed as young nude males standing in contrapposto. Provocatively rubbing tumid shafts, they reach maximum tumescence. The appreciative men examine the offerings from every angle. Savoring the erotic perfection of youth - the exquisite skin, exceptional abdominal definition, substantial genitals, and alluring asses, they feel the delightful sting of concupiscence... the source of all humanity. Men with boys in tow disperse throughout the mansion and gardens. Some desire privacy; others remain in the salon relishing an audience. With few exceptions the gentlemen crave midshipmen jam... the quintessence of youth and virility. With a limited supply available, the naval delicacy is a prize worth fighting over. And having once partaken of the exceptional cuisine, there's no return to pedestrian fare. Down on knees, the men instinctively lean forward and pay homage. The intense taste of masculinity resonates on their tongues. Impatient feeders, like starving third-world children they lunge forward and devour the delicacy balls deep, and vigorously suck until rewarded with the potent elixir. Midshipman 2/c Spicer proves prescient. Hopkins is the center of attention. Hungry feral eyes consume the gorgeous plebe. Yearning to explore their dark side, the impassioned men want novelty, a taste of the forbidden. Appearing innocent and pure, Hopkins is the perfect screen on which to project their degenerate fantasy. A forced gangbang. Collaborating on the adventure, moving deliberately like a pack of wolfs, five skilled predators quickly surround the midshipman. Excited by what society deems abhorrent and unacceptable, they want to abuse the defenseless boy. Repeatedly. Bearing minatory grins and painful erections, they aggressively grab the boy and shepherd him towards the formal dining room. Understanding the precarious situation, sacrificing personal preferences, performing his sworn duty, the midshipman embraces his destiny. "Stop! Release him. Now!" commands a voice with authoritative timber. A wild card is dealt... and fate intervenes. The heroic knight, a charismatic gentleman from Virginia, has been watching Hopkins all evening. With a profound sense of entitlement, wielding unquestionable political power, the House Majority Leader is accustomed to getting what he wants. And he wants Hopkins... who looks strikingly like his own teenage son. It's a moment of uncertainty and danger. The tension is tangible. With potentially deleterious repercussions, it's never wise to get between a frenzied pack and its intended prey. "B... but Leader we... we all want to fuck...," a congressman starts to protest. "Shut up. He's mine. Gang rape another," he demands. Several pack members briefly consider fighting for their preferred meal. Instinctively cautious, the experienced political animals exercise restraint and weigh the potential consequences. Cowering in fear of retribution from the party patriarch, the pack ceases their advancement and reluctantly relinquish Hopkins. Surveying the salon, they focus on a strikingly handsome midshipman with auburn hair, alabaster skin, and a profusion of muscles: 2/c Spicer. Radiating natural masculine power, gesturing with an arrogance born from a lifetime of commanding underlings, the Majority Leader draws Hopkins to him like metal shavings to a magnet. With a strong moral compass and facade of respectability, few realize he harbors intense incestuous fantasies. "Come with me son," the man commands. "Yes father," replies the grateful Hopkins. And they head off to the mansion's master bedroom. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Playing his role, Spicer struggles to escape. But not too hard. Making the perpetrators work for their prize, the midshipman increases their ultimate pleasure. The illusion of nonconsensual sex is not irrational, impulsive, uncontrollable lust, but rather a deliberate hostile act of rebellion over the personification of time. Wounded with mortality, slipping past the peak of desirability, lurching towards infinite darkness, the men seek a reprieve from the destructive, all-devouring force. Like Zeus and his siblings, who wrest control of the universe and time from Cronus, the men subjugate Spicer... a proxy for youthful time and sexual attractiveness. Consuming his potent masculinity, they are psychologically revitalized and regain control of their existence. The scrum comes to its inevitable conclusion. Outnumbered and overpowered, the midshipman is restrained and stripped. Gloriously naked, his smooth hairless body, firm pectorals with erect pink nipples, corded washboard abdominals, narrow waist, and swole ass excite the predators. A living work or art. Spicer is ceremoniously escorted into the formal dining room. The grand space with oak beams and shimmering cream wallpaper is dominated by a solid mahogany table with turned legs and artful embellishments. Exquisitely crafted, the 8-foot long by 40-inches wide Colonial table has a rich deep-brown stain with a semi-gloss finish. Standing at the head of the table, Spicer is bent over the apron with stomach and forearms against the hardwood top. Spreading his legs and rotating his hips, the men ensure proper alignment for further exploration from behind. At the far end of the room are French doors to the West garden. Open to access the scented summer breeze, Dionysus watches and commands the humans in the pursuit of ritualistic ecstasy. Entrenched in their clutches, the experienced boy appears defenseless and vulnerable. Appreciating the masculine form, their eyes are automatically drawn to his oversized gear. Bent backwards and bobbing, the massive cock hangs tantalizingly between muscular legs. "Wow it's huge," exclaims an impressed senator. Unable to resist, his hand slides up-and-down the meaty 8-inch shaft. Fully erect, a prominent blue vein runs the entire length down to the impressive ball bag. Heavily laden with key-lime sized fruit, the stretched floppy sack sways like a drunken sailor in rough seas. Feasting on the muscular ass, massaging the firm creamy white cheeks, admiring the innate perfection, the men anticipate the exquisite pleasure of fucking the delectable boy. Providing no quarter, they spread Spicer open, revealing the defenseless flower. Exchanging wolfish grins, they maneuver for unobstructed views. The recipient of a robust education, the boy has enjoyed significant attention from his superiors. Slightly parted with raised rim, a stunning palette of crimson, carmine, and burnt sienna encircle the exquisite rosebud. "Damn, look at that sweet fucking hole," raping Spicer with licentious eyes. "Oh my god... it's even more beautiful than I imagined!" Why are men so attracted to this seemingly simple flower? The answer may transcend its innate beauty and instead reside in the natural fascination with the forbidden. Although exposed and utter vulnerable, Spicer isn't embarrassed. In fact, he's proud that his body can arouse strong emotions and desire in the distinguished and important men. As government property, he understands and accepts that his body belongs to the Navy and Nation. Naturally submissive, he has found his calling. Amor fati: love your fate. Standing behind Spicer, a Massachusetts congressman admires the inviting ass. Disdaining laborious preparations, employing a minuscule amount of lubrication, running fingers around the quivering ring, the House Majority Whip initiates the ultimate act of domination. The product of upper-class privilege, obtaining a master's degree in public policy from the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University and a J.D. from Yale Law School, the skilled elocutionist enters politics. An expert manipulator of circumstance, sacrificing integrity for ambition, he quickly ascends to a leadership position in the Democratic Party. "How do you want to do this? Who fucks him first?" asks a junior congressman. The bureaucratic contortionists vigorously discuss options. Distracted, they don't notice the Whip's intent. Ignoring the rules of the game, with a sense of entitlement he takes what he wants. Physically aggressive, stepping forward, holding the midshipman's hips, he positions himself against the pulsing pliant flower. Staking claim to Spicer's masculinity, sealing his ownership, with reckless disregard for anything other than his own pleasure, he forces his rapacious cock through the overwhelmed orifice. Barely able to contain his excitement, bucking forward, he violently impales the boy with one savage thrust. "Uggh!" Spicer grunts in pain. The deliberating men take notice and turn towards the midshipman. "What the hell? The order wasn't yet decided," complains a choir of voices. "You can debate all night... I'm fucking him now," declares the Whip with fervency. Although annoyed he commandeered their prey, the men grudgingly respect the Whip's direct approach to cutting red tape. Washington needs more men of action. Mesmerized, they watch the thick shaft aggressively pump in-and-out of the succulent ass. Moving with perfect precision, intentionally changing attack angles and thrusting side to side, the Whip searches for maximum pleasure, stretching the chute's protesting walls. "Fuck him harder!" the audience demands. And Dionysus dances in euphoric madness. Whimpering and moaning, caught between pain and pleasure, committed to the inevitability, Spicer takes the violent shafting with pride. Paying his dues, earning respect and enhanced privileges, he envisions winning a key leadership position next semester as a brigade striper. Cloaked in protective shadows, surrendering to primitive compulsions, several men watch intently in silence. Mesmerized by the erotic performance, vigorously masturbating, the voyeurs' dark desires are masked behind impenetrable eyes and inscrutable smiles. Intoxicated with wonder, pounding persistently with pride, the Whip's pendulous balls violently slap the passive midshipman with the rhythm of a metronome. Pummeling the whimpering boy with reckless abandon, savoring the pleasure, he ensures Spicer feels every glorious inch. Relishing the fabulous feeling of the squeezing chute, intense and relentless, the Whip is approaching climax. Ascending the euphoric pinnacle, he stiffens and explodes. Impregnating Spicer, he discharges potent seed inside the battered womb. Breathing deeply... exhausted, he extracts himself. Spicer's flower is stretched wide open. Admiring his handiwork, running a finger around the gapped and distorted ring, the Whip grins with satisfaction. Another man quickly takes his place and plugs inside. And then soon after another. The aperture's tightness is ruined during the night's festivities. No longer serviceable, several adventuresome men experiment with double penetration. Unexplainable, there is something compelling about opening up an ass... transcending perceived limitations and boundaries. And Spicer takes an epic shafting. - - - - - - - - - - - - - The next morning the midshipmen gather their belongings, exchange farewells, and gingerly embark aboard the YP. Battered and bruised, the heroic boys accommodated all the men's fantasies and fetishes. Securing powerful alliances and financial resources, the Commandant will be pleased. The YP departs the dock and heads south. "How's your ass feel? Hopkins asks mischievously. "Fuck you," replies Spicer. Performing his duty, he accommodated an unprecedented number of gentlemen. "You got lucky Hopkins," notes Calabrese with a conspiratorial wink. The experienced 1/c midshipman, the scion of a wealthy Virginia businessman, is a family friend of the powerful Majority Leader. Desiring business consideration and exemptions, the boy's father contributes generously to the man's congressional campaign and political action committee. Enjoying family vacations together, Calabrese is friends with the man's son, a cute boy three years younger than himself. Encouraged to skinny dip in the exclusive mountain resort's lake, the frolicking naked boys are closely scrutinized by the grinning man. Especially his young teen son. The man's inflating gear betrays his perversion. Highly astute, Calabrese immediately recognizes the truth. Confronted and having no choice, the terrified man agrees to a secret rendezvous in the woods. Reaching an amicable understanding, the man greedily sucks Calabrese... in return for silence about his taboo fantasies. Calabrese's field report is forwarded up the Navigators' chain-of-command. And it's noted the man's son closely resembles Hopkins. Recognizing an opportunity, the Commandant considers sending Hopkins on the St. Helena mission. A dangerous undertaking, it's not guaranteed the Leader's incestuous fantasy will override internal restraints. And without protection, Hopkins will be subjected to a brutal experience. In the end, it's a risk he decides to take. Calabrese is selected as mission leader to watch over Hopkins. Speaking briefly with the Leader in the salon, he reawakens the man's incestuous desires... commenting on Hopkins remarkable resemblance and availability. The Leader is intrigued with the possibility. Taking action at the last possible moment, the man rescues Hopkins. Altering Spicer's fate in the process. Afterward, the gentlemen discuss, debate, and extoll the various merits and skills of each midshipman. Gaining prestige and the unequivocal support of the House Majority Leader and Whip, the Academy solidifies its reputation as the Nation's premier provider of young men and granter of dark desires. Exhausted and well fucked, the midshipmen head back to Annapolis. It's another fine Navy day... another chance to excel and serve the Nation. - - - - - - - - - - - - - Comments and readers' experiences with sailors, afloat or ashore, are always of interest. The author may be reached at JRozoNavyDoD@gmx.com