By Lee Mariner

Copyright ã 2010


This erotic story is intended for ADULT readers only. If you are not of legal age in your locality to be reading this material or should you not approve of such material, PLEASE READ NO FURTHER.

This story is copyrighted, and it is not to be posted on any website, archived, copied or reproduced without the author's written consent. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives for posting of materials in accordance with their instructions.


My friend David has edited this work. Many thanks for his expertise.


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Lee Masters, a good looking, gay First Class Petty Office has made a personal vow not to become involved with any military men on the off chance that such involvement might result in the ending of his career. The advent of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is in the future but during the time of Masters service, all personnel who were charged as being involved in homosexual acts were discharged. In some cases, it took only a whispered accusation or the pointing of a finger, and a career or potential career was ended.

Upon reporting to his new duty station onboard the Naval Station, Treasure Island, San Francisco, California, he is assigned duties as the Senior Master at Arms of the base Enlisted Barracks.

Brad Carlson, a young, well-built, good-looking Second Class Petty Officer who displays an impressive bulge in his groin, is assigned to the Master at Arms office escorts Masters to the barracks. While showing Masters his quarters, he explains the inner-workings of the barracks and the men assigned as his subordinates.

After Carlson leaves, Masters quarters, he removes his dress blue uniform and strips to his Calvin Kline briefs before starting to unpack his gear. As he was unpacking, there is a sharp knock at the door, and without thinking that he is almost naked except for his briefs, he calls out, `enter'.


Chapter #2

The door opened and a young, strikingly good-looking sailor entered. He was uncovered as was customer while indoors. The reddish highlights of his auburn hair glinted in the clinical glare of the overhead lights. His tight fitting white tee-shirt had been thrust down into the waist-band of his skin tight dungarees held at the waist by a black web belt with a gleaming brass buckle. There was an impressive elongated bulge displayed in the left leg of his dungarees, and the tightness of his tee-shirt enhanced the sharply sculpted definition and breadth of his muscular torso and abdominal muscles.

Feeling a telltale twinge in my groin, I quickly diverted my eyes and gazing into the beautiful emerald depths of his eyes, I said, "Yes."

"Saddler, Sir, Seaman Waldo Saddler," he said stiffly as he spoke. "Petty Officer Carlson sent me to take your gear to be stored down below in the luggage locker.

The twinge in my groin persisted as I did a quick visual evaluation of the young Adonis standing nearly at attention, five or six feet from me, as he spoke. He appeared to be maybe eighteen or nineteen years old and I noticed his eyes wandering over my half-naked frame lingering at my crotch where my partially swollen cock pressed against the thin cloth of the pouch of my tight briefs. Turning slightly to the side to avoid his seeing my swollen cock, I said, "Easy Saddler, call me Boats not Sir, I'm an enlisted man like yourself, not a commissioned officer.

The classic definition of his chest increased as he inhaled nervously. The twin nipples of his chiseled pectoral muscles pressed against the thin material of his tee-shirt. As he exhaled, his eyes focused on a point below my chin as he said, "I'm sorry, Boats, I...I sort of got confused."

"No harm done, Saddler," I replied, turning my back to him to avoid his seeing the excited state he had unwittingly caused. "Give me a few minutes to finish, and you can take it."

Saddler stood waiting behind me while I removed the remaining civilian clothes from the suitcase. By the time I folded and placed my sea bag inside the suitcase and closed and locked the lid, I had my emotions sufficiently under control to turn and face him. His eyes quickly glanced down for only a second.

As I stepped aside, I said, "It's all yours."

"I'll return with your receipt after I've stowed it away," he said as he flexed his fingers, the muscles of his forearm rippling as he gripped the suitcase handle and removed it from the bed.

As he pulled the suitcase from the bed, his bicep muscles bulged slightly from the minimal weight of the almost empty case, and I had a good view of his tight buttocks as he moved toward the door.

"Saddler, is there anyway in particular that the men's luggage is stowed away?" I asked as he opened the door.

"No particular way, Boats," he replied. "Carlson tags each piece with the man's name, rating and the date it was stored in a log," he said, breathing softly as he spoke. "We got some regular sheets from the supply department and spread them over it to try and keep the dust down, but I`ve never heard of anyone loosing their gear."

"It sort of crossed my mind, but it sounds like everything is under control," I said, smiling broadly. "That old suitcase may not look like much but it has been to a lot of places with me."

"I bet it could tell a tale or two," Saddler said, grinning broadly, his eyes twinkling.

"It could indeed," I replied, gazing at him calmly as he left the room, closing the door shut.


I couldn't keep Saddler out of my mind while I finished stowing my clothes. I had been involved with several young men but, he was on a level above those. His eyes spoke words about what he was thinking, and it seemed, at least from what I had seen, that there was something hidden deep inside, something that he seldom allowed to surface unless he wanted it to. I wasn't trying to convince myself to break my cardinal rule of avoiding involvement with military men but, if I did, he would be the one to make it worth it.

A sudden knock at the door snapped me out of the erotic state of conjecture that Saddler's appealing appearance had created in the short time that he was in my room, and I called out, "Just a minute," to give me time put on my white uniform trousers. It wouldn't have been appropriate to reveal my aching hardon.

When I said, "enter," Saddler opened the door and came in. He had a ticket stub in his right hand, and as he offered it to me he said, "The receipt for your suitcase, Boats.

"Thanks, Saddler, that certainly didn't take very long," I replied, forcing myself to look into his eyes as I continued speaking. "Tell Carlson to muster the Master at Arms staff in the office, and I'll be out shortly."

"Yes, Sir," he replied quickly, his face reddening as he realized his mistake. "Is there anything else that, I can do for you?" he asked, as he lowered his eyes to the distinct impression my partially swollen cock made in my groin.

I was tempted to play at word games with him but prudence took the place of foolishness. Gazing into his gorgeous eyes, I smiled softly as I said, "Not right now, Saddler."

`Jesus,' I mused as the door closed behind Saddler. `That boy is a knockout and, he could be a heartbreaker as well as a career buster."


`Oh well," I thought as I returned to donning my white uniform. `let's cross one bridge at a time."


Buckling my white web belt around my waist, I slipped the white tunic to my uniform over my head. Giving my appearance a critical once over in the door mounted mirror, I opted to include the black neckerchief as part of my status as the Senior Master at Arms.

Black shoes gleamed and the tailored uniform fit perfectly. Satisfied, I snatched my Dixie cup off the bed and proceeded to the office.

Several men, some wearing civilian clothes and others in work uniforms, passed me giving me a quick glance as I was walking through the hallway. I knew standard regulations required the uniform of the day or the appropriate work uniform during working hours, and after working hours civilian clothes were permitted. `Something else to check on,' I mused as I approached the office.

Through the wide windows, I saw six men; Saddler and another man who were standing off the side, were wearing their work uniforms, and the other four men; not wearing work uniforms were probably his staff.

One man who was sitting at the desk was wearing the summer uniform of the day with tunic and a gold on blue armband emblazoned with the letters DMAA, Duty Master at Arms. Carlson, whom I picked out immediately, was talking with two other men also dressed in the uniform of the day.

When I entered the office, the conversational hubbub died away, and for a brief moment, it would not have surprised me if someone called out, "attention on deck."

I could not help a faint smile crossing my face as the young man sitting behind the standard issue grey desk quickly vacated the chair and stood beside Carlson.

At first the tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife, and I was momentarily at a loss for words until Carlson broke the silence by saying, "this is Petty Office First Class Lee Masters. He has been assigned to take Humphries place."

It was as if a great sigh swept over the room before exploding into a cacophony of good wishes, and hand shakes from my petty office subordinates but, I couldn't help noticing that Saddler and his companion, standing off to the side, remained motionless.

The commotion died down as I turned toward them and said, "I've met Saddler but not you."

"Petersen, Sir," he responded nervously.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Saddler smiling as I said, "Easy, Petersen, it's Boat's or Masters, not Sir."

Petersen was almost as easy on the eyes as Saddler except on a smaller scale. His hair was champagne blond with blue eyes, and his build was muscular but not as heavy. His tight tee-shirt, like Saddlers, showed the chiseled definition of his torso, and his small waist. If he was the same age as Saddler, he looked to be two or three years younger.

Shaking hands with both of them, I turned and spoke to Carlson. "There seems to be a lack of furniture, Carlson; could we have a few more chairs?

Saddler spoke up and said, "there are some extra chairs in the conference room."

"You and Petersen should be able to handle about four of them," Carlson replied, glancing quickly at me after issuing his

The office space had been built as an after-thought to the original plans for the barracks.

There were three four by four feet panels that were half wood and half glass. In addition to the walls there were two standard sized glass doors that accessed the interior passageways' of the first floor and the other faced toward the doors of the main entrance. The duty master-at-arms and any other persons in the office had a clear view of anyone coming into, leaving or walking in the halls toward the berthing spaces or the mess halls. The existing furniture had consisted of three chairs, grey steel desk with a telephone, four by four table with several books and a shelf that held a two-way radio that was built into the wall just within the reach of the desk chair's occupant. Light was provided by two double tubed florescent fixtures attached to the ceiling.

After Saddler and Petersen returned with four chairs and were dismissed to return to their duties, I sat behind the desk and motioned to the others to sit.

To loosen things up, I spoke of my previous duty in Panama and some of the things that made overseas duty pretty good if one didn't mind being outside of the States for a couple of years. With the feelings of negative expectations that was normal, subdued, we discussed working conditions in general and the duty rosters.

The one thing that I knew they probably wouldn't like was the change in uniforms and how and when they would be worn. They represented authority and sitting in front of me in a mix of uniforms, they didn't look like much of an authority figure.

Glancing at Carlson, I said, "effective today, your on duty uniform will be the uniform of the day with neckerchief. The neckerchief will not be worn when off duty. Armbands are to be worn on the right arm between the shoulder and elbow at all times and the duty petty officer sitting at this desk will remain covered. Off duty or on duty, men, you are petty officer's and you are to be the recognizable police force of this barracks, not just when you are sitting behind this desk...understood.

There was a noticeable frown on their faces and, a rolling of eyes. For a brief moment, I was inclined to remind them that Humphries was no longer the Leading Petty Officer but decided against it for the present or at all unless it was necessary.

A petty office who had been introduced as Roister spoke up and asked, "what about when we leave the barracks?"

"Until you are told otherwise, the uniform as I have just described will be worn. Of course, it goes without saying that when you leave the base on liberty, you dispense with the arm band and wear the dress uniform of the day or civilian clothes, and that brings me to another point.

When I left my room, I noticed some men wearing civilian clothes. I don't know how it was done in the past but, civilian clothes are not worn during duty hours unless the person has permission, and is leaving the base. That does not mean you chase after every man you see in civilian clothes when you think they should not be. Use a little common sense before you make a fool out of yourselves. The man might be reporting back from leave or he had an extension of his liberty, and he hasn`t changed. If you see him later, then question him...understood?"

"Are there anymore questions?" Carlson asked. Except for looking at each other, no one spoke.

Standing, Carlson said, "okay, lets put it into effect."

"If you will hand me your armband, Michaels, I'll remain here."

"I'm sorry, Boats, I forgot all about your badge, it is in the upper right hand drawer of the desk. The Chief Master at Arms wears a badge not an armband," Carlson said.

I scanned the duty roster while the men were changing their uniforms as I had ordered. When Carlson returned to the office, I said, "Let the current duty roster stand until we go over it. If there are any changes, we can phase them in. How do you think the men will like the changes?"

"They won't at first, no one likes changes." he replied as he sat down in a chair next to the desk. Casually resting his arm on the edge of the desk, his right hand rested on his right thigh, and his legs were slightly spread apart. "Humphries spent a lot of his time at the Acey Ducy Club, and he didn't really care much as long as things ran smoothly."

"That will change," I said, glancing surreptitiously at the elongated bulge resting against the inside of his left thigh, suggesting that he wore boxers instead of briefs.


After Michael's returned, Carlson and I toured the barracks before going to noon chow. We swapped lies about our experiences and previous duty stations while we were walking but, I had the advantage of about ten more service years than him, and my stories were a little more varied since he had only been on one duty station and that was on shipboard. He was close to the end of his first four-year enlistment and hadn't made up his mind about re-enlisting. I had served a four-year tour of recruiting duty in Philadelphia, Pa. before being assigned to Panama and, I tried discussing the advantages of staying in the service but, knowing how he had been jerked around by his last command, I didn't push very hard. From what I had already observed, he would make a damn good man to re-enlist.

There were a couple of things that I noticed while we were walking around that could be changed but it would be better to let the initial shock of the changes that I had set in place subside.

Four o'clock in the afternoon came around quick, and after checking the changing of the watch and noticing that Roister was wearing the proper uniform, I retired to my quarters.

Locating the television remote, I turned on a local news station before doffing my uniform and stowing it away. After washing my face and hands, I stretched out on the bed and enjoyed the feeling of tensing my muscles and slowly relaxing. `God, that feels good,' I mused as I ran my hand downwards over my hard flat stomach under the band of my briefs and gently rearranged my cock and balls. Saddler came quickly into my mind as I gently squeezed the thickening length of my uncut cock. I hadn't had sex with another man since I was in Panama City, and conjuring erotic visions about Saddler only made me that much hornier. I could feel the juice boiling in my balls as I stroked my burgeoning cock. A feeling of drowsiness spread over me as I envisioned Saddler hovering over me, golden flecks flashing in his hazel eyes as he gently stroked my raging hardon.


"Damn, I didn`t know I was that tired," I said softly, as I woke up, my hand still holding my soft, sticky cock. My briefs and my thick pubic hair were soaked with the gobs of cum that I had ejaculated while I slept. Rivulets'of sperm ran down on either side of my ball sac over the soft perineum flesh that separated my balls from my anus, and it felt icky sticky.

Slowly swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stood and pushed my briefs down over my feet onto the floor before doing a sort of duck waddle to the wash basin. Soaking the wash cloth with warm water, I managed to clean off most of the sticky sperm from between my legs and balls. While I was trying to clean my cock and pubic hair, my cock surged slightly and I stopped. 'One is enough for now,' I thought.

Wrapping a thick towel around my waist, I noticed the golden-reddish rays of the sun shining through the rooms windows, and I checked the time. It was six-thirty and that meant I had missed evening chow. "Damn, damn," I cursed under my breath. I had eaten a light lunch and, I was hungry.

Slipping my feet into my shower clogs, and grabbing my toilet kit, I headed for the shower room. I could hear muffled conversation in the head-washrooms but, I was relieved when I entered the empty shower room.


It still surprised me as to how large the shower stalls were. Four good sized men could have showered with room to spare.

While I was gazing around the room, it occurred to me that a gay friend of mine whom I had met while on Recruiting Duty in Philadelphia had suggested that if I was ever in San Francisco, I should try the baths at the The Club House Health Spa on Powell Street. 'Maybe, I would but right at the moment, I was hungry.' I mused.

Selecting one of the stalls at the back of the room, I dug my soap and shampoo from my toilet kit and placed them on the shelf. Hanging my towel on one of the several hooks, I adjusted the water to a temperature slightly warmer than luke warm. I don't know how other men feel about showers but as far as I was concerned, they were the reward at the end of a long day, and I luxuriated in their warm grasp, the warm water flowing over and relaxing the tense muscles of my body. The sensuous feeling of my hands applying soap to tired muscles was akin to a full body massage, and the erotic feeling of my cock swelling as I washed my genitals, spread through the sinews of my muscles. Thoughts of Saddler crept quickly into my mind as I reveled in the steamy warmth that surrounded me, and my cock rapidly stretched to it's full eight-inch uncut length, it's pink crown peeking out from its protective shield. "Jesus," I moaned softly as I skinned the foreskin back, the warm water cascading over it's fully exposed, tapered crown. The sound of the shower room door opening snapped me out of the erotic state that the feeling of the warm water and manual massaging of my throbbing cock had created.

Turning quickly to the rear wall, my rapidly shrinking cock swaying gently, I was scrubbing my hair when I heard, "Hi, Boats, getting ready to go on liberty?"

Still scrubbing my hair, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Saddler with a white towel around his sinfully small waist looking at me, his toilet kit in his right hand.

"No, I missed chow and I thought I'd see what the food at the Acey-Ducy Club was like." I spluttered while continuing to wash my hair.

I heard the squeek of the shower water being turned on as he replied, "It's not bad, I went there once with Carlson as a guest, and I can tell you they have damned good sandwiches, thick and loaded with meat."

"That sounds good," I replied as I rinsed the shampoo suds from my hair while thoughts of why Carlson would invite a Seaman to join him at the Club instead of someone of his own rating.

My cock was still partially swollen but, that was normal for any man who was showering. Shaking my head to free up some of the excess water and wiping the water from my eyes, I turned to face Saddler and, when I opened my eyes, I almost gasped.

The water was on full force, and he was standing under the shower but, leaning backwards at the waist just enough to allow the water to strike his chest and then cascade downward over his ripped abdominal muscles and genitiles.

He was about five-foot seven or eight inches tall and his weight was probably in the neighborhood of one-hundred forty five or fifty-five pounds. His hair was well-groomed and the redish hightlights glinted in the artifical light. Flecks of gold glinted in his smoldering hazel eyes, and his lips curved sensuously as if begging to be kissed. His torso was solid etched granite muscle and centered on his beautifully chisled pectoral muscles, dark, twin nipples were surrounded by large pinkish brown aureoles. Three double ridges of solid abdominal muscles formed below his sternum, and a swirl of auburn hair covered his inny naval before cascading down over his hard, lower abdomen and then spreading over the pubic bone forming a mass of silky hair surrounding the thick base of a very impressive uncut phallas resting on twin testicles the size of walnuts. Like mine, his cock was in a semi-flaccid state, it's pink crown peeking out invitingly from the protection of its foreskin sheath. Inhaling deeply, I envisioned it's already impressive size enlarging to a massive eight or nine-inches in length, and my mouth watered at the thought of engorging it's entire length.

I had seen and been with several extremely well-built young men but, Saddler would have qualified as a miniture of Michelangelo's "David", he was beautiful, gorgeous and magnificent all rolled into one superbly built young man.

I could tell from the impish smile playing at the cornors of lips and the teasing movement of his hands massaging his chest and the muscles of his abdomen that he knew how good looking he was and, he enjoyed displaying his attributes and preening for, I was sure, someone he found interesting. There was no doubt in my mind that he was gay but, the problem was creating a situation where we would be able to explore the excitement that was burning in him as well as myself.

`God, he is magnificent," I thought, feelings of desire and passion burning deep within me.