[DISCLAIMER: If you're not of legal age to read stories of male-to-male intimacy, or if it is illegal to do so where you are, right now, this very second ... then please ... leave, and return ONLY when and where it is legal for you to do so. If reading about sexual intimacy, feelings, yearnings and the like, between people of the same sex offends you, the author asks that you, too, leave and find expressions to your likings elsewhere. And remember ... "Judge not, that ye be not judged." Comments, both pro and con, including constructive criticism, are welcomed.]

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This is not a militaristic story, but one of a sailor, in a military environment, that finally experiences the fulfillment of his teen (and even pre-teen) years' sexual stirrings, and his young life's one goal. Then he is thrown into the terror of proceedings that lead to his embarrassing discharge from The United States Navy.

If you're looking for a story filled with sexual scenes, this one is not for you. Yes, there are those scenes here - some mildly graphic ones - but they're not the primary objective of the story. So enjoy, and understand.

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Note: Abbreviations used in this story:

BESS = Basic Enlisted Submarine School; BESSRECSTA = BESS Receiving Station; CO = Commanding Officer; EM = Enlisted Man/Men; ET = Electronics Technician; GQ = General Quarters; HM = Hospital Corpsman; K.P. = Kitchen Police; NEX = Navy Exchange; Commissary (Similar to Army PX); OD = Officer of the Day/Officer on Deck

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"Is there a Gerry Young in here?" yelled a sailor into the same 96-bed dormitory barrack in BESSRECSTA where Gerry had spent his first nights at Groton.

With a deep sigh, turning from making up his rack, "Right here!" he answered back.

"Phone call for ya on the pay phone out here in the passageway."

"Be right there," he grumbled. Now, who could that be, he wondered? Fifteen minutes earlier, at morning mess, and I woulda missed the call. Now what?

Dreading having to talk with anyone, he picked up the receiver and stated, "Corpsman Gerald Young, here."

"Hi, Honey. It's your Gran'ma callin'. How ya doin'?"

Thrilled at first to hear a friendly, family, voice, Gerry quickly recognized a serious concern in her tone. But at the same time, he didn't want to let her know what was happening. He had to put on a "happy face."

"Hi, Gran'ma. Boy! What a surprise -- you calling me here! Been thinkin' 'bout callin' ya today with some good news," he was thinking fast over the words he had rehearsed, knowing full well that this moment would, in fact, have to happen in the not-too-distant future; in truth, he was shaking in his boots!

"What kind of good news, Gerry?'

"With my surgical experience in `New Awe-lens,' the Navy's decided to transfer me to a base hospital in Europe, somewhere, instead of ..."

"Is that the truth, Honey?" she interrupted with love, knowing from certain experience what the rising tenor of his voice meant.

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm telling' ya the truth; don'tcha believe me?" His spirit began to fall. Awww, shit! She knows something's wrong!

"No, Honey, I honestly don't believe you. Since I haven't heard anything from you for the last month, I was worried; I've made a few phone calls -- Department of the Navy, Department of Defense, Senator Graham, Congressman Whitehead -- and I know you're not telling me the truth ..."

"Oh!" was all he could say. He wanted to dig a hole, crawl in, pull it in after himself, and disappear from the face of the Earth.

"... and I know why," she added. She didn't sound mad or angry, although she did sound a bit hurt.

"You do?" he asked, just above a whisper. He held back the pain of having lied to the one person he loved more than anyone else in the whole wide world. His knees were shaking. His legs felt as if they could no longer hold his weight. He leaned back into the wall and slid down to sit on the floor of the hallway.

"Yes, Honey, I do. Now what's this about you going to Europe?" Are you really going over there?"

"No, Ma'am. I'm not going to Europe. Not now, anyway."

"Then why did you say ..."

" 'Cause, Gran'ma, I didn't want you to find out. I didn't want to embarrass you. I didn't want you to think that I'm some kind of pervert or something. I just wanted to go away for two or three years and ... and ... disappear."

She could hear the tears, the silent crying, the choking in his voice.

"You haven't embarrassed me, Honey. I've known since you were about eight years old."

"You've known? How ...?"

"Call it `woman's intuition,' if you want, but even though I didn't give birth to you, you've been like the son I never had. Your mother - my own daughter - wasn't a very loving female figure for you, as much as I hate to say it, and I always figured you'd be attrac... well ... I've just always known, Honey."

"I guess she did the best she could, considering my own father, and that drunken s.o.b. she's with now."

"Okay, okay, now, enough of that kinda talk, son. When are ya gittin' out, and what are ya gonna do?"

"Well, if I can pass the Physical, I'll probably get my papers tomorrow morning, and I was thinking about going out to San Francisco with Frank, and start a new life out there."

"Frank? Is that the man who's ...?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We're both getting out at the same time ... for the same reason ... together."

"I see," she dryly commented, then after several seconds' hesitation, she changed the immediate subject. "Can they put you in the brig for this?" He could hear the "wheels" turning in her head -- she would call whomever necessary to prevent that from happening! Or, if it did happen first -- to get him released as soon as possible.

"No, Ma'am, it's not a criminal offence ..." then, with marked sarcasm and loud enough for everyone in the passageway to hear, he added, "... it's just a ... POSSIBLE ... SECURITY ... RISK!"

"Then how can ..." her voice tapered off as a Navy Nurse caught his attention, letting him know that the Doctor would see him ... "now!"

"Gotta go now, Gran'ma. The nurse is calling me into the doctor's office."

"Okay, Honey. Don't worry. Everything'll be fine. And remember that I love ya."

"I'll call ya when it's all over. I love ya, too, Gran'ma. Bye, bye."

"Corpsman Young ... ?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm ready," he said, standing up and following her into the doctor's offices.

She had him sit on an examination table so she could draw some blood, and afterwards gave him a little plastic cup and asked for a urine sample.

"And leave the door open when you're in the Head," she ordered, wanting to make sure that he didn't fill it from the sink faucet.

Though feeling uncomfortable with that specific direction, he followed her orders. A few moments later when he returned the capped cup to her, she told him to go to the waiting room, two doors down the passageway, and that the doctor would see him shortly.

Stepping into the passageway and turning left toward the waiting room, he saw a familiar name stenciled on the back of a sailor's dungaree shirt. Gerry smiled ... no! Actually, he grinned ... with delight! Zed was polishing the passageway floor. That alone made him happier than he had been at any moment during the past two weeks of hell. Maybe I can catch up with ... ZED ... oh, ZED, yes ... after seeing the doctor. And then he continued with a little prayer of gratitude. Thank you; oh, thank you, Dear Heavenly Father.

On turning left again and entering the waiting room, Gerry saw Frank also entering the waiting area, but from the doorway in the opposite wall, evidently from the doctor's office.

"How'd it go, Frank?" he asked, not that he really cared to hear the answer, and not that he was all that interested.

"No sweat, Ger. The doctor's been called away on an attempted suicide, and it's just a YN Chief Petty Officer in there right now. He took notes on everything we talked about. It was kinda relaxing in there, after everything else I've been through the last couple of days."

"Ya know ..." Gerry said, "... this is the first time they've allowed us to be together ... unsupervised ... since `the inquisition' two weeks ago."

Frank nodded his head in agreement as they sat at opposite ends of a red leather sofa, slightly turned toward each other.

"I couldn't believe it," Gerry continued. "I had to sit in that chair for four hours while they questioned me about every..."

"Four hours?" Frank interrupted, barking angrily. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, four hours," Gerry answered adamantly. "What about you? How long were you there?"

"Fourteen fucking hours ... in that damn chair! And they wouldn't even ..."

"Fourteen? Why so long, Frank?"

"There was no fucking way in hell that I was gonna tell them that I was queer. No way in hell! I lied to'em for so long, I guess I got my stories all fuckin' screwed up, and started contradicting myself. They got me in a fucking corner and finally broke me down, and then I told'em everything."

"You asshole!" Gerry scorned.

"They didn't break you down?" Then without giving Gerry a chance to answer, he continued, "No, I guess they didn't. Not with your being there for only four hours. You probably told them everything right away."

"Well, I figured Intelligence is smart enough that if they knew the right questions to ask, they already knew the answers. So why try to lie my way out of an impossible situation, when the truth would eventually come out, anyway?!"

"Shit!" Frank commented in regret ... or was it disgust? His tone could have meant either. Then he went on, "They didn't even let me go to the Head during those fourteen fucking hours!"

"They didn't? What'd you do ... pee in your ..."

Gerry was cut off by the Chief Petty Officer as he hurriedly entered the waiting area through the same door that Frank had used.

"Are you Gerald Young," asked the Chief.

"Yes, Sir."

"You sailors aren't supposed to be talking together ... alone ... until both of you get your discharge papers."

The Chief continued, "That was my fault, letting Hadley leave the doctor's office without me." Then turning his attention to Frank, he said, "Now, Frank, you go on about your own business. It shouldn't be too much longer now before Young, here, gets his papers."

"Yes, Sir," Frank replied, then looking at the only friend he felt he had had in the Navy, he said, "See ya later, Ger." Gerry just nodded as a slight smile came to his eyes and mouth. Frank hurriedly walked out of the waiting room into the passageway and turned to the right.

"Come this way, Young."

The Chief seemed pleasant enough. He wasn't barking orders, and he didn't project any animosity. He almost seemed to be empathetic toward the two sailors.

Gerry followed the Chief into what appeared to be the doctor's counseling office. Chief sat behind a small desk, piled with papers and other binders.

"Young, why don't you sit in that recliner over there, stretch back and just try to relax. The doc asked me to interview you and take notes on your answers."

"Okay, Chief. Whatever," Gerry replied as he sat in the chair, leaned back, and gazed out over the larger desk in front of the window overlooking the review/parade grounds.

"Now then ... first question ... When did you first find out that you were ... uhhh ... you know?" It was obvious that the Chief was a little nervous asking the question.

"Excuse me, Chief, but I've already answered that question to the Interrogation Officer two weeks ago."

"I know, Gerry ... may I call you `Gerry'?" Chief asked kindly.

Gerry nodded.

"I know you've already answered most of these questions, Gerry, but this session is for the doctor; not for Intelligence, and not for the Interrogation Office."

"Okay," Gerry responded, sighing deeply in surrender to whatever red-tape they deemed necessary. "My first ... real ... experience was right here in this building, just down the hall, in dormitory A-5, two months ago."

"I see. But when did you find out ... decide ... whatever ... that you ... uhhh ... wanted to ... uhhh ... be close to men?"

"I don't know, Chief, I think I was born this way."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, my mother's told me that when I was a baby -- even as an infant -- I refused to breast-feed, and would cry and push away from any woman who held me. But that I would laugh and smile and cling to any man who held me."

"Doesn't that seem a little odd ... for a baby, that is?"

"I guess so, Chief. I do remember ... oh, I don't know exactly when it was, but one of my first memories is that of being in bed with my mother."

"And ...?"

"On warm summer nights, she would lay in bed with her legs spread apart. She would then lay me between her legs with the back of my head laying ... you know where." There was disgust in his voice, saying this. He continued, " Her scent -- the scent of a woman -- is, I'm sure, another thing that made me the way I am."

"I'm so sorry about that, Gerry," the Chief said, holding his hands together, bouncing them back and forth against his lips. "Let's go on to something else, shall we?"

"Please!" Gerry pleaded.

"Did you ever do anything ... in a sexual way ... with any other boy when you were a kid?"

"Well, the next ... uhhh ... sexual thing I remember is ... uhhh ... after Mom remarried. His name was Roland, and he had a brother, Karl, about fifteen years old."

"How old were you then?"

"Seven."

"And what happened?"

Gerry had been looking at the Chief, answering the last few questions, but once he began talking about Karl and the farm, he lay back on the recliner, closed his eyes, and began talking as the fond memories came back.

"One afternoon, after we had finished our chores around the farm, Karl and I went up into the hay-loft above the cows' stalls and pitched down some hay to them.

"When we finished that, there was nothing else left to do, so Karl took off his shirt and lay down on a pile of hay, with the afternoon rays of sun shining down on him through the window-like opening on the front of the barn. I sat down not far from him, and we talked for a while about ... I don't know what. He was chewing on a piece of straw, and I was copying him -- my older brother that I never had.

"The straw was dry and tasted dusty, so I started twisting it in my fingers. I noticed Karl's eyes were closed, so I made light little strokes across his chest. His hand shooed-away what I guess he thought was a bug. I laughed, he opened his eyes and saw me about to do it again, and he said, `Stop that.' He closed his eyes again.

"He didn't sound mad or angry, so I continued. Then he pretended to be angry, pushed me over onto the pile of hay and threw himself on top of me. With one hand he mussed up my hair and said, `I told you not to do that anymore.' Then he lay back down again."

"Was that it? That's all that happened? That's not sexual," the Chief commented.

"Oh, I know, Chief. Not finished with the story yet."

"Oh. Okay. Go on."

"Well, I then asked him if he was mad at me and he told me that he wasn't. Then he closed his eyes again, just relaxing, I guess, and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

So I picked up another piece of straw and started making very light strokes across his stomach just above his belt. He didn't say or do anything, so I kept it up.

"He just opened his eyes and raised up on his elbows, watching what I was doing. After a little bit of time, I noticed the bulge in his Wranglers startin' to get bigger. I asked him what was happenin' there, and he said, `Nuthin.' But the more I toyed with the straw, the bigger it got.

"Then I told him that I'd never seen a necked man before, and asked if I could see what he looked like without his pants on."

"And what did he say or do?" Chief asked.

"He looked at me sorta funny, then said, `Okay.'

"He undid his buckle, unzipped his pants, and slid them and his jockey-shorts down below his butt, and then he lay back on the hay."

It seemed the Chief was getting interested by this time. He had even stopped taking notes. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk and asked, "So what happened then?"

"I reached out and held his `thing' in my hand, and when I touched him, it tightened up. I pulled it to one side, released it, and it sprang back, stickin' straight up. Then I pushed it to the other side, released it , and it sprang back, stickin' straight up, again. This was fun.

"Suddenly I saw a picture in my head and said, `Uncle Karl?'

`Yes?'

`Do you know how to kiss it?'

`What?'

`Do you know how to kiss it?'

`Nooooooo.'

`Like this.'

"I kissed the head of his penis with my lips, then ran my tongue around the head and neck of it. Each time I did something else, it would give a little jerk. I heard him making funny, soft little sounds. I raised my head and looked at him. His eyes were closed again, and he had just a hint of a smile on his face.

"I opened my mouth as wide as I could and put him inside, letting my lips slide down his length as far as I could. Then I began doing an up and down motion with my head.

"His sounds got louder and louder until suddenly, he yanked my head off of him, stood up, and hurried to the back of the hay loft, telling me to stay where I was. I did what Uncle Karl told me to, but soon, I could see him, with his back to me, slightly bent over, and I thought he was hitting himself in the stomach.

"I guess he was masturbating to climax what I had started. But I do know that at that age -- just seven years old -- I knew instinctively how to perform oral sex on a man."

"Had you ever seen it done before?" the Chief asked.

"No, Chief."

"Did he kinda urge you to do something, tell you how to do something, or what to do?"

"No, Chief, I just did it. I just did what came naturally! And yes, before you ask, I did enjoy doing it. It made me happy, and Uncle Karl certainly seemed to enjoy it."

Chief sat back and quickly scribbled some notes on his pad, then said, "I think I need a drink of water. How about you?"

"Water would be fine, but could I also have a cup of coffee?"

"Sure, Gerry. The cooler and paper cups are over there in the corner, and I'll get the coffees. How do you take it?"

"Like I like my men -- straight and black," he hornswoggled the Chief, who quickly turned and gave a blank look, as if to say, I don't believe you just said that!

The Chief just chuckled as Gerry went to take a leak in the doctor's Head ... errr ... restroom.

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