TROY MC NEAL
Copyright © 2003
By Lee Mariner
author's copyright and all provisions of the original disclaimer remain
in force. All Rights are Reserved.
This story is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the provisions of
their submission guide lines. It may not be reproduced, copied, printed
or displayed on any other web site without the written consent of the
It will depict homosexual acts between males and it is intended
for ADULT READERS ONLY. If you are not of legal age in your
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My friend Dean has edited this work and I am deeply grateful for his
All of my stories are listed in: /nifty/prolific.html#leemariner.
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The barracks was just starting to stir as I came through the door from
the parking lot and went to my office. The morning watch petty
office was sitting behind my desk; but, when he saw me come though the
office door, he got up and handed me the night log book, saying,
"nothing eventful overnight, Boats. A couple of the guys came in
late, and they will probably be sporting hangovers, but other than that
nothing out of the ordinary."
"Thanks, Kemp," I said, laying the log back on my desk. "Where is your
messenger, on rounds?" I asked looking around but not seeing the
seaman that is assigned for messenger and fire-watch duties.
"Blakeman just finished his rounds; but I sent him to the mess hall for
coffee; you're out," Kemp answered.
"Damn, I forgot about that. I meant to get some yesterday before
I left," I exclaimed as I sat down.
"He should be back any minute, but I can take the coffee pot to the
and fill it for you if you want?" Kemp offered just as Blakeman, his
"Never mind about that, Kemp, you go ahead and close down the morning
watch. I can make a pot of coffee while Blakeman runs over to the
personnel office and gets Lawton's leave papers; he's leaving right
muster. After you secure, take a tour through the upper decks
and get the men moving. "
"Aye, aye, Boats," Kemp answered smartly as he turned to leave my
office with Blakeman hot on his heels.
It didn't take long before there was a fresh pot of coffee brewing and
from the noise of the cursing and shouting drifting down from the upper
could tell Kemp was making more enemies than friends. The mess
hall would be open in
another half-hour and then another hour before morning quarters.
If things went like they should with muster and getting the crew
started on the days routine, it shouldn't take long for Weidemeyer to
finish his inspection. I wasn't looking forward to following the
old man around, but it was a pretty sure bet I would have to fill in if
Chief Knickleman was in his usual hung over state.
The first bell rang summoning the men for morning quarters, and five
minutes later the final bell rang. Mustering the crew went
off pretty much as usual; and, when Gil answered, I told him his leave
papers were in my office. Weidemeyer gave his usual pep talk;
as I had expected, he instructed me to meet him on the quarterdeck in
fifteen-minutes so I could accompany him on a material inspection of
the yard. I gave Knickleman a sour look, my gut telling me he had
already sucked up to the skipper; but he only grinned as he
went up stairs to his office; and I went to mine after motioning for
Lawton to follow me.
"Your leave papers are all in order, Gil," I said, taking them from the
top of the pile of papers that Blakeman had brought from the personnel
office. "What time does your flight leave?" I asked looking
across my desk at him.
Gil looked at me for a moment; and then hanging his head he said
"I'm taking the bus, Mike, I can't afford to fly."
"Your doing what, taking a bus?" I exclaimed and then looking around to
see if I had been overheard. "Jesus, Gil," I said, lowering my
voice. "That's at least a
couple of days or longer just to get there and back. Christ, by
that time your leave will be shot."
"I don't mind the bus, it'll give me more time to think." he said
looking at me with his strikingly beautiful blue eyes. "Besides,"
he continued, "the nearest airport to where I live is in Green Bay and
I'll have to take a bus from there on home."
"Bullshit, Gil," I said, pulling my wallet out of my rear pocket and
fishing out my Visa card. "You take this and get a flight out. If
they ask any questions, tell them to call me."
"But, but, Mike, I can't do that," he stammered.
"You can and you will with no arguments," I said anxiously, looking up
and seeing Weidemeyer coming down the hallway and hearing him calling
me, "are you ready, Homan?"
"Yes, Sir. I was just getting Lawton off on leave," I answered,
shoving his leave papers and the credit card into his hands.
"I'll see you, Gil and you be sure and call me when you get back," I
said, glancing at him as I went out of the door to meet Weidemeyer,
leaving a nervous and confused Lawton standing in my office.
" I...I will, Mike," I answered a little shakily as he left but not
sure that he had heard me even though he had given me a quick glance as
he went out the door. There
was a knot in the middle of my chest with a feeling of anxiety and
spreading over me as I watched Weidemeyer and Mike
walking side by side toward the barracks exit; it was a study in
comical contrasts. Mike was the perfect specimen of what a
military man was expected to be, broad thickly muscled shoulders
with a beautifully tapered torso, a small waist and tightly muscled
hips. His uniform was precisely tailored; and he walked ramrod
moving with a self-assured athletic grace across the floor.
shoulders; but his ass was half again as wide; and, if he had a waist,
disappeared in the rolls of fat that hung over and hid his belt.
His gait reminded me of the way
penguins walked, waddling from side to side, while Mike had to measure
stride in order to not out distance him.
When they reached the double doors, Mike hit the panic bar and looked
back at me again as he pushed the
door open for Weidemeyer. After Weidemyer had
Mike smiled as he ran his hand down, teasingly, over his flat
stomach brushing the bulge on the left side of his fly. There
was a tingling in my groin; and, inhaling deeply and smiling back at
him, I threw my shoulders back sucking my stomach in tightly. Pushing
my chest out, I stood ramrod straight gazing at him as I mimicked his
movements, letting my hand linger over my crotch. He
winked at me, and I could see a twinkle in his eyes. "I'll see
you," he called out softly as he let the door close and followed
Weidemyer down the steps.
"I'll see you," rang in my ears, as I stood alone, nervously clutching
papers and Mike's credit card, looking at
the closed doors
for several seconds. I
knot growing larger in my chest as tears started to well up in my
eyes. Suddenly a voice called out from behind me.
"Hey, Lawton, aren't you supposed to be going on leave?"
"Yeah, Mathews," I answered wearily, blinking my eyes against the
tears and feeling a little despondent as I
turned around. "I was going to
wear civvies, but I think I'll change into my uniform.
"If you're going to be hitchhiking, it makes it a lot easier," he
replied from where he was standing on the stairs leading up to
the second and third decks.
"I'm not going to be hitchhiking, Matt; but being in uniform does make
traveling," I replied, moving
toward the stairs where he was standing.
"Whatever," he answered, turning and dashing on up the stairs. "I
gotta get my work shoes, you have fun but don't do anything I wouldn't
called back as he ran
upstairs taking the
steps two at a time.
might have thought wearing a uniform when hitchhiking helped out, and
maybe it did, but I was pretty sure being in uniform helped when
I gave the ticket agent
card. She smiled, looking at me briefly; and, using the
information on Mike's credit card, she processed the
ticket to Green Bay. I hesitated briefly when she
handed me the charge slip
with Mike's name on it before
signing, "Michael Homan" almost as if it were my name.
"Your flight number is 1263 leaving at nine-forty-five from gate
thirty-three, Mr. Homan. There will be a one hour lay-over in Chicago
before your next flight on to Green Bay. You can use the
escalator or the steps
up to the
main terminal." She
said as she handed me the airline folder with the ticket and charge
slip. "Enjoy your flight, and thanks for flying United."
"Thanks," I said, smiling at her and glancing at the large clock on the
wall behind her before I picked up my bag and turned to
move through the crowd. It would be another hour and a half
before they would load the plane.
I had never waited in an airport; and, as I rode the escalator up, I
saw the main terminal lobby was crowded with a virtual menagerie of
all rushing in different directions. There was an isolated
section that was filled with people, sitting in a blue haze, either
smoking or reading newspapers. Fast food
restaurants, coffee kiosks, clothing and souvenir discotheques were
busy with people picking up reading material or some supposedly wanted
souvenir that would eventually be discarded. The
bars were closed until eleven o'clock in the morning,
but there was a small breakfast coffee shop open close to the causeway
led to my loading gate. It seemed to be pretty full; and,
minute, I thought about going on to the gate where my plane would
be loaded; but I spotted a small standup counter off to the side of the
dining patio that was empty except for some plastic cups that had been
used but not discarded. I didn't
really want to spend a
lot of time standing around at the loading gate waiting for my
flight to be
announced, so I decided on a sausage biscuit and a cup of coffee.
I were lucky, there would still be a place available at the small
There were two young marines sitting in the patio area, and I saw them
give me a cursory glance when I
passed. I couldn't help but notice the tailored fit of their
my mind wandered back to how well Mike looked in his tailored
uniforms, His blouses and shirts were cut to fit and show the cut
and ripped definition
of his broad shoulders, chest and abdominal muscles tapering to a small
waist. His tailored trousers fit like an extra layer of skin,
displaying smoothly muscled hips, thick muscled
thighs and calves.
They wore their
uniforms like Mike did, tight, revealing and tantalizing, but not
obscenely so. Just as I was about to pass their table, the one
me looked up and flashed a beautiful smile, his brilliantly white teeth
gleaming. I felt my face turn blood red with embarrassment at
being caught looking at him and his companion. Averting my gaze,
quickened my pace on into the serving area.
Just as I was about to set my food and coffee on the counter, one of
marines called out, "Hey, swabby, wanna join us? We've got an
you don't mind," I replied, looking around and seeing it was the one
who had smiled at me as I had passed. I hesitated for just a
moment before moving to their table.
"We won't tell anyone if you don't," he replied, his voice a
smooth evenly modulated baritone. "We
still need the Navy to
haul us around."
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that, the Navy does other things than
just carry marines." I said as I pulled the chair out
and sat down, looking into the shining green eyes of my good-looking
antagonist. "My name is Gil, Gilbert Lawton. Thanks for asking me
to sit with you."
"Hey, Gil, just kidding; we military types gotta stick together; you
know," he replied as he
extended his hand, our eyes locking. I could see the brilliant green
to a deep jade as we gazed at each other for a brief moment.
His grip was strong and firm, and a tingling feeling shot through
me at his touch. When I started to withdraw my hand from his, his
grip tightened; and, looking at him, I tightened my grip. His
green eyes twinkled impishly, and I could see the warmth radiating from
within their depths. The reddish highlights in his well-groomed
auburn hair glinted in the glare of the restaurant and overhead
terminal lights. Unlike some other marines' closely shaven
haircuts, his was tapered on the sides and up the nape of his
neck. His jaw was square with succulently full, tantalizing and
inviting rose colored lips. When he ran the tip of his tongue
it revealed how straight
and brilliantly white his teeth were. He was clean shaven
and his obviously tailored uniform
revealed broad muscular shoulders and the classic 'V' tapered
torso. We broke our gaze when his companion leaned forward and
said, "Hi, I'm Marty
Herzog, and this deserter you're looking at, is Cliff, short for
Clifford Walter King the Fourth. That's a mouthful, isn't it? His
old man has so much
money that it's stored in Fort Knox."
Cliff shot Marty a sharp glance as his hand slid from mine; and I heard
him hiss, "Jesus, Marty, can it will you?" Then he looked back
as I replied, choking and
sounding dumbfounded as well as surprised, "Deserter?"
"I'm sorry, Gil, don't pay him any attention, that's his way of being
funny instead of saying 'ex-marine'. Marty has a habit of
using his mouth for things other than eating chow." Cliff said almost
looking back at me. "I
was discharged yesterday, but he still has two years to go at Camp
Pendelton. Don't you, big mouth?"
"Hey, buddy, it's not because I wanted to," Marty said
anxiously, glancing furtively between the two of us. "If you had
extended for a couple of years, we could have been going to the West
Coast together instead of your going home to Chicago."
"You caught me by surprise when you called him a
'deserter', Marty," I said, slightly embarrassed and looking at the
them. "You mean Cliff is deserting you, not the Marine
Corps. You shouldn't say things like that; the wrong people might
We fell silent for a moment; and, from the way they looked at each
I was wondering whether they had caught my sly attempt at being
subtly suggestive when I said, "deserting you." I had
never attempted double talk often, and I wasn't sure whether Cliff's
comment about Marty's using his mouth for something other than eating
had a hidden innuendo or not. I had tried being sexy and what I
thought was coquettish when I was with Mike in his car the
morning it was raining so hard. I felt
like I was making a fool of myself then, but I was getting a different
feeling sitting next to Cliff and watching his reactions than I had
gotten when I was with Mike. I sensed a sudden tension had
developed between them, but I wasn't exactly sure if it really meant
anything other than he was pissed at Marty for shooting his mouth off.
Breaking the sudden silence, Cliff glanced at Marty before saying,
"That's what he means, Gil; but he isn't known for being clever with
words. Where are you headed, a new duty
station?" He asked, quickly changing the subject.
The brief moment of tension seemed to pass; and, even though I
had the feeling that they both were gay, I wasn't sure until I felt
the pressure of Cliff's leg pressing against mine. When I turned
head and looked at him, there was a twinkle in his eyes and an impish
grin playing at the corners of his soft, succulent lips.
reflex was to pull away but, the pressure of his leg against mine, was
electrifying, and I felt my
cock starting to swell. Returning his gaze, I licked my
lips seductively before answering his question.
"Nah, I'm headed home on leave for a few days. I'll be here
in Shit City
until I finish the next year or so of my reserve hitch," I answered,
absentmindedly sipping my coffee and noticing that Cliff's eyes were
locked on my face and the pressure of his leg against mine was
as I spoke. The twinkle in his deep green eyes had changed to a
hot gleam of lust. My cock was rock hard and aching to be freed from
the restrictions of my tight white pants. Common sense told me
there was no sense in getting horny when there was not much chance of
anything developing in the middle of an airport terminal, so I moved my
leg. Cliff's look changed to one of inquisitiveness, but I
smiled at him over the rim of my almost empty coffee cup.
"Where's home, Gil?" Marty asked, breaking the line of unspoken
questions that flowed between Cliff and me.
"Sturgeon Bay, just north of Green Bay," I replied, quickly turning my
head away and answering Marty.
"Then you know where Dyckesville is?" Cliff asked, looking at me as he
lifted his water glass to his lips.
"Sure, I do," I answered. "You drive right through it on Rt. 57;
but, I thought Marty said you lived in Chicago?"
"He does," Marty injected although I hadn't directed the question at
"I do," Cliff replied, giving Marty an exasperated glance before
continuing. "We have a place on the bay but it's not in Dyckesville;
it's north of there a mile or so on River Lane off of
fifty-seven. The family doesn't use it much, but Dad likes
having it if he wants to get away. My mother can't stand what Dad calls
roughing it and she's never been there, at least not with the family."
I couldn't help but see his eyes twinkling as he said it and, I
wondered why he would hint that his mother was maybe doing something
his dad didn't know about. A sudden grunt from Marty changed my
train of thought and I looked away from the hypnotic effect of Cliff's
"Unh huh, a place he calls it," Marty grunted around a mouth full of
"He makes it sound like a shack or something like that, but I bet it's
frigging mansion," he finished saying after washing down his food with
"Marty, will you please stop talking about my family? Gil doesn't
want to hear all of that crap," Cliff said, giving me an apologetic
"Sheesh, it's not my fault you're famiy is so frigging rich,
Cliff. Some of us are lucky and got it; but most of us ain't; and
my old man is so frigging poor that he can
hardly rub two shekels together," he answered glibly as he looked
at his wristwatch. "You better finish up, Cliff; they should be
calling our flight pretty soon. I gotta hit the can before they
call our plane for boarding; I can't stand those ittybitty heads on
people don't flush the toilet, leaving the heads stinking like shit."
"That's understandable, Marty," I said chuckling softly. "That's
why some people call them 'shit houses' instead of 'heads'."
"Ah hah, he gotcha on that one, Marty," Cliff said laughing softly.
"At least I don't jerk-off in them like some people do," he answered
he pushed his chair back and left for the men's room on the other side
of the terminal lobby.
I watched Marty walk away from us and realized that he was shorter
than I by maybe as much as four inches. Also from the look of his rear,
I gathered that he was
probably a few pounds heavier. He was not unattractive, but Marty
was the nondescript type of person that would never be noticed in or
out of a crowd. Unlike Mike or Cliff, his lackluster physical
appearance could probably be attributed to the way he had devoured two
Strawberry Danishes and one Cheese Danish without thinking of the
effects the concentraton of sugar would have on his health.
"Funny how you can get a totally
different impression about someone until you see all of them," I
thought to myself, my mind wandering for a minute thinking of when Mike
and I had been together in his apartment; and then my thoughts drifted
as to what Cliff might be like, naked.
Mike was everything anyone could dream of standing, sitting or
walking; but, when he stripped,
he was so magnificently gorgeous naked that sculptors such as
Michelangelo or Rodin might well have competed for the opportunity to
render that masculine beauty in marble.
Cliff, dressed, resembled Mike on only a slightly smaller scale and I
couldn't help but wonder if he
would be as gorgeous as Mike when he stripped. The same feelings
I had had with Mike flowed over me, and my cramped cock ached in the
tight confines of my crotch. A mixture of thoughts about both
of them naked and hard whirled through my head; and, I gagged
involuntarily when a rush
of anticipatory cock-sucking saliva suddenly flowed down my
hard, I cleared my mouth; and, as I rapidly blinked my eyes in an
to dispel the erotic and confusing thoughts from my mind, I heard Cliff
"Don't let Marty get on your nerves, Gil, he's always like that.
It's like he has appointed himself my personal public relations man."
"I don't know enough about him to let him get on my nerves,
Cliff; we just met less than an hour ago," I answered, trying to
"Lucky you," He replied glancing at me with a grin on his face.
"I've been with him for two years, and he can be pretty aggravating at
times. I've told him people don't want to hear about it, and I've
asked him not to keep spouting off about my family's
money, but he doesn't seem to be able to get it through his thick
He doesn't do it all of the time, but every once in awhile he
gets carried away, and it can be embarrassing."
"I got that impression while he was talking about how poor his father
was. I don't think he worries about embarrassing himself or
people. There are some people, you know, that just don't know when to
shut up. What I really didn't get was that crack about people
jerking off in airplane heads. Where did that come into the
conversation?" I said, breathing in deeply and feeling my composure
returning although there was still a lingering feeling of nervousness
and a quivery feeling in my loins.
"I think that's just his imagination, Gil. He said it smelled
like cum once before when he was on a plane. I can think of
better places than that, but I guess some guys can't help
themselves," he said. He had an impish look in his eyes as
asked, "If you're going to
Green Bay, you'll have to transfer in Chicago if that's the way they
routed you. What's your flight number? I'll bet it's the
same as ours."
"It's flight number 1263. The agent down below told me it would
load at gate thirty-three and I would have an hour lay over in
Chicago," I replied, checking my watch for the time.
"I thought so," He said with a twinkle in his eyes as he smiled a bit
coyly, his even white teeth flashing briefly as he licked his lips. "I
kind of figured it when you said where you were going. You want
to walk on down to the gate? Marty can catch up with us."
"Sure," I replied as he pushed his chair back, stood up and turned
slightly, his crotch at my eye level. He pulled his green tunic
down, and then he adjusted his very full crotch making no
effort to turn away
from me as he did.
Wiping my mouth, I stood and deliberately adjusted my half-hard cock
balls. He grinned widely, his eyes gleaming; and, looking at me,
said, "Damn uniforms are too tight for big packages."
"Tell me about it," I answered, locking his eyes with mine and
breathing in deeply as I deliberately squeezed my cock and balls
before pushing my chest
out and straightening my white uniform blouse, a flush of excitement
"Do you work out, Gil?" Cliff said, his eyes casually moving over me as
we started toward the causeway
that led to the loading gates.
"Yeah, at the base gym mostly," I replied as I picked up my travel bag
fell in step with
him. We were the same height and we automatically fell into step
as we walked.
"It shows," he said seductively, "and those tight white uniforms don't
leave much to the imagination; do they? Especially if someone is
horny and looking for action."
I sucked my breath in expanding my chest; and, exhaling, I was about to
answer his not too
coy innuendo when we heard Marty. "Hey, you guys, wait for me."
Cliff groaned and glanced at me exclaiming softly, "Fucking pain in
the ass," just as Marty caught up with us.
call to board was being announced as we reached the loading area.
Marty had inserted himself in the boarding line between Cliff and me;
and, from the almost venomous glance I saw him give Marty, he didn't
seem to be happy with his marine
buddy. I was kind of glad since it gave me a little time to get
my emotions under control. I knew there was no way anything could
happen between Cliff and me on an airplane, and sex in public
rest rooms was too damn dangerous. For a brief moment, I wondered
what Mike would have done in similar circumstances. Cliff was
making it more than obvious that he was gay, and I was sure he had
picked up on my interest, but we were going to different locations. His
family's having a place in Dyckesville, just a few
miles south of Sturgeon Bay, would have been great; but that didn't
anything if he
was getting off in Chicago and I was going on through.
The ticket agent was stationed by the door, and I moved forward with
Marty behind me. I could hear snatches of words as he turned his
head and talked over his shoulder to Cliff, but I was not
really paying any attention. My mind was elsewhere, and I had a
feeling of guilt about Mike and the way I was consciously and
subconsciously comparing him with Cliff. I wasn't doing
very well in getting my feelings for Mike and my head straightened out
if the first good-looking hunky guy I met had me feeling like a
The line moved fairly quickly with some people pushing while others
were carrying small pieces of luggage. The three of us were
carrying shoulder bags, and every now and then Marty's would hit me in
the rear when he turned to say something to Cliff. I didn't
protest but when I looked back at him, I could see Cliff's eyes look at
me, rolling almost imperceptibly, feigning boredom. The same
feelings of warmth and desire that had filled me before were flowing
freely, and I could feel the passion and heat boiling in my nuts.
"God," I thought to myself, "he is so fucking hot, I might pop a
The agents comment, "your ticket, sir," brought me out of my
"I'm sorry, I mumbled, blushing, as I handed him the ticket."
"You change planes in Chicago for Green
Bay, Mr. Homan. There will be a one hour layover between your
flights, but you should be able to have your lunch with time left over
to reach loading gate sixty-nine on the south concourse. Have a
good flight, Sir,"
the agent remarked, smiling and handing me my boarding pass and the
remainder of my ticket.
"Homan, I thought your name was Lawton," Marty said with a
surprised tone in his voice as we started down the covered walkway to
"It is Lawton, I'll explain it later," I replied anxiously, a little
piqued at him for asking but
feeling a little like an undercover agent using someone else's identity
and being caught at it.
was a steward and a stewardess stationed at the plane's doorway
passengers to their seats. I heard the stewardess tell Marty,
"your seat is 22A, Mr. Herzog, that's midway down the aisle on
your right." I quickly checked my seat assignment; it was 22B,
next to Marty.
Cliff had handed his boarding pass to the steward while I waited for
Marty to move down the aisle, and I heard him telling Cliff that his
was 25B, three rows behind mine. That presented a quandary if
and I were going to be able to talk during the flight. Looking at
Cliff, I nodded in Marty's direction; and he raised his eyebrow
"It looks like I've got Marty for a seat mate, Cliff," I said as the
steward was handing me my ticket and giving me seating instructions.
"Not really, Gil," he answered, grinning cheerfully. "Marty
can't stand sitting by a window while
flying. He can't help looking out the window, and then he gets
sick. You watch; he'll want to swap his seat
with me," Cliff said grunting as he put his carryon luggage in the
overhead storage bins.
Cliff was right. The minute Marty realized he was sitting by a
window he turned and asked Cliff to swap seats. Cliff protested
mildly as he looked at me and winked. After a few more
words, he acquiesced, feigning exasperation with being asked and
wearily changed seats.
After storing my canvas travel bag, I sat down next to Cliff who had
slipped into his seat ahead of me. The plane didn't seem to have
a vacancy in business class, but there were empty seats in
first class. Cliff saw me looking forward and leaning toward me
he whispered, "I started to get a seat in first-class, it's a lot
comfortable, but Marty couldn't afford it. I'm glad I didn't now
or we wouldn't be sitting next to each other," he said, touching my arm
lightly but firmly.
There was a surge in my crotch from the electrifying touch of his hand,
and I was wishing I wasn't wearing my
tight white uniform. My balls and cock were bunched up in my
briefs; and I knew it
would be an uncomfortable trip if I didn't straighten them out.
Quickly looking around, I saw that several passengers were still trying
to stuff their possessions into the overhead racks and trying to get
into their seats. I sucked in my stomach; and, sliding my hand
of my trousers, I quickly rearranged my cock and balls with my cock
down the right leg and my balls down the other.
Pulling my blouse down and exhaling a sigh of relief, I heard Cliff
chuckle under his breath and say, "tight uniforms
and briefs can be a bitch, can't they, Gil?"
"You said it. I wish I'd worn my civvies like I started to," I
"Hindsight is always 20/20, and we've got a three hour flight ahead of
us." He replied as he removed his belt and unbuttoning his tunic.
Leaning closer he asked quietly, "do you have any civvies with you?"
"Yeah, in my bag," I answered, just as softly and nodding up at the
"Why don't we go into the head after we get
into Chicago and change out of our uniforms?" he suggested, grunting
low while lifting his hips and pulling his trousers down to give the
bulge in his crotch more room. "That's what I usually do," he
said, winking at me, as he rearranged his package.
"That sounds good to me; Cliff, but what about Marty? He might
want to change out of his uniform. " I said, glancing
around to see if we were
being overheard; but, with all of the noise from people trying to put
their luggage away and struggling to get into their seats, there wasn't
much chance of it.
"Marty is on his way to Camp Pendleton, Gil; and, being the nerd
he is, he will stay in that uniform until he reports in. That's the way
he is. Remember how he was
fussing about me deserting him? You and I get off in Chicago where you
change planes to Green Bay, but he
stays with this flight all the way to San Diego," he said as he leaned
removed his tunic before continuing. "I hadn't planned on going
directly home after I was discharged. I was going to hang
around the beach and see what the action might be, but Marty kept
me to at
least fly this leg of his trip with him, so here I am," he finished,
dropping his tunic across his thighs.
"You and Marty must be pretty close with each other... if you would do
that," I said as I pulled the seat belt tight across my lap.
"Nooo, Gil, not really," he answered slowly as he pulled his seat belt
tight. "Marty was a good buddy, but we never were really close to
each other," he mused, his eyes searching my face before
continuing, "Don't you or didn't you have someone that you
sort of hung around with, but you weren't that much involved with them
you wanted to go to a movie on base or maybe the enlisted club for a
beer and pizza, that kind of buddy?" He said as the stewardess
passed us, checking passenger seat belts.
"Nahhhhh, not really" I answered with thoughts of Mike going through my
head as I fibbed but not looking at him when I did.
The noise from the jet engines increased to an almost deafening roar as
we took off and when I glanced across Cliff, out the window, I saw him
studying me; and, before I turned my head away,
our eyes locked. From the look in his eyes and the grin on his
face, I had the feeling he knew I was hiding something, but he didn't
say anything while the plane was ascending. As the plane leveled
off and the engine noise level decreased, I felt his hand moving across
my thigh; and, placing my hand over his, I looked at him saying
softly, " As much as I would like it, Cliff, this is the wrong place,"
The green of his eyes changed to a vivid verdure shade, and a tingling
shiver flowed over me when I heard the husky inflection in his soft
baritone voice saying, "I know it isn't; but one of us had to
a move sooner or later, and I was tired of waiting to find out what
I was pretty sure of." He squeezed my thigh before
his hand away and looked out the window at the clouds floating just
I sat looking at his chiseled profile in the glare of the window for
several seconds; and, placing my hand on his forearm, I said in a
low voice, "I'm sorry, Cliff; but, as much as I wanted to say
I didn't know what. I'm going home on leave, but you've been
discharged and you live in Chicago, that's where you are getting off
and we separate. We only met this morning in
an airport, and now we are on an airplane. What does that tell
Turning from the window, his brilliant green eyes were glistening and,
his voice was low and husky, "What does any of that have to do with it,
Gil? We both were thinking the same thing and we both want the
same thing," he said hesitating and breathing in deeply, trying to
control the heaving of his chest. "You're right though,
there's not much we can do about it here but I've got an idea if you're
willing," he said, moving as close as he could and dropping his head
down closer to mine.
"What?" I whispered, a little apprehensively.
"I told you I hadn't planned on going home right away, remember?"
"Yeah, you said something about hanging out at the beach, but Marty
pestered you into flying with him," I replied while checking around to
see if anyone was paying any attention to us.
"Well, you haven't said whether or not anyone is meeting you in Green
Bay; but, if no
one is, we could get a layover on your flight to Green Bay; and we
spend a day or two together at my apartment in Chicago," he said moving
his head closer to mine and whispering seductively, " we wouldn't have
to change clothes in the terminal head, we could get a cab and change
"You have an apartment in Chicago, Cliff? You aren't pulling my
leg; are you? I heard what Marty said, but I just thought that was a
bunch of bull,"
I asked in a surprised tone.
"Unh huh, I do, and I'm not pulling your leg, not yet," he answered
grinning, his eyes twinkling. "My Dad leased a
place for me in the Drake across from Lincoln Park when I started
college. He doesn't know I kept the lease up after I got
tired of school and
joined the Marines. It's handy having a place to relax other than
home; and, even if Dad should find out, it's my money not his," he
nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders and smiling, his jade green eyes
shining as he slipped his hand under his tunic, inhaling deeply
and exhaling softly.
I could see the movement of his hand hidden under his tunic, and my
started to harden as I thought about the bulge I had seen in his crotch
and what might be hidden under his marine uniform. I hadn't told
anyone except Mike
where I was going on leave; and he thought I was going home to get
away for awhile and straighten my head out. I hadn't been looking for
someone like Cliff to come along; but the thought of spending
someone as hot as Cliff was exciting, so exciting that my legs were
shaking, my heart was beating so fast, I could hardly breath and I
could feel the juices churning in my nuts. "Why
not?" I whispered more to myself than him, but he heard me and moving
his head closer,
whispered, "Yeah, why not?"