Warning: The following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. This multipart story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental.
Special acknowledgements to Brad from Denver for providing diligent proofing and editing of the story, and to Carey for being a patient teacher.
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Part 4, DAVE'S EXPLORATION:
From Part 3,
When I entered the room, it was obvious that Brent had been there. There was a damp bath towel and washcloth on his towel rod. And, I noticed that the computer was on and running with a screen saver. I "accidentally" hit the mouse and Brent's AOL email screen came on. Being curious, I read the last message:
I know you wanted to chill tonight but I've got a last minute job for you. You and your gorgeous ass need to be at the Peabody Hotel at 8:00 pm. Your client is in Suite 2304. You are expected to be a prepped-up college frat man. So, pull out your best Polo. It's all pretty vanilla. But, you're wanted for the entire evening. Upon completion of the gig, I'll transfer $1,000 to your account.
In my imagination, I conjured up what this mystery man might be doing on the side. If that was he in the desk picture, Brent sure ranked high on the stud meter. Clearly, the girl friend was a perfect match; at least on a superficial level. Kind of a merging of Men's Health and Self magazine cover pages.
'Gorgeous ass?' Under my sheet I lay buck-naked, feeling the warm Tennessee evening breeze coming through the window I had opened before pulling down the shade. Normally, I wear my briefs and have slept that way since boyhood. Tonight, I was exhausted from the day's activities. So I stripped completely, stowing my dirty clothes in the laundry bag, brushed my teeth, and flopped into bed.
'What was Brent up to? And, who with? What do you call him? A callboy? Naw. Maybe an escort,' I naively wondered as these thoughts bounced around my head. He was obviously fresh meat for hire on the sly. And, at a grand for the evening, Brent was servicing people who had money to burn. These questions and images of his extra-curricular activities floated through my mind.
Closing my eyes, I began to slowly thumb-stroke the head of my semi-hard cock. As a first stream of pre-cum crept out of my piss slit, I used God's intended lube to slick down the rest of my now rigid pole. Kicking the sheet down to the foot of the bed, I increased the strokes as I imagined Brent plowing...
My focus turned to Brent's face and body as I imagined him fucking...me. We both had perspiration forming on our brows and chest. I could see his movements increasing and a wicked smile appearing as he licked his lips. Staring intensely at me.
"How do you like it?" this blond vision asked.
"I like it hard and nasty!" With that we rocked in unison as he plunged in and out of me.
"How nasty, sailor boy?"
"NASTY! Oh fuck, oh god, oh..."
The well-formed body tensed as Brent grunted, 'I'm cumming, lover.'
"Me too," I yelled. I opened my eyes wide as an orgasm shook throughout my rigid body, triggering the eruption of a powerful volley of cum arching up to my chest. After five more streams shot out my swollen dick, I slowly relaxed and stared at the ceiling in self-satisfied bliss as I closed my eyes once more.
In my mind I saw Brent as he leaned over, pecking me lightly on the lips and heard him almost whisper, "You're the best."
I closed my eyes and said, "Say it again so I believe you."
"Babe, there's no one like you." Brent's voice and image faded into the night.
Opening my eyes again, I scooped up a still warm glob of spent seed from my chest with two fingers and brought them to my mouth to taste the earthy sweet flavor. "Hmmm," I sighed. Opening my mouth, I brought the cum-clad fingers to my tongue, closed my mouth, and inhaled deeply while pulling the fingers slowly loose.
Slowly I rose and went to the washbasin to discard the moist evidence and wash down my recently invaded chest and abdomen. Returning to the bunk, I lay back down and, covering my body back with the sheet, drifted off for a very fitful sleep.
The eastern exposure caused the room to became bright at sunrise. Being a morning person, I automatically bounced out of bed, wrapped a towel around my waist, and secured flip-flops under my feet. Walking down the passageway to the shower, I casually covered my morning wood angling to the left of my groin area with the toiletry dop kit in hand,. When I arrived yesterday, the first thing I did was to secure my room key on the chain with my dog tags so I wouldn't get locked out of my room.
Once I did my morning pee, dump, and shower, I stayed in the communal area and shaved at one of the basins. While I was shaving, a couple of sleepy guys came in.
They kind of grunted and mumbled "morning." The two guys, about my age, hung up their towels and went in the shower room that was pretty large with six showerheads and a ledge for shampoo and soap.
"Hi," I replied a little too brightly.
Conveniently, I had a straight view looking in the shower room from the mirror angle above the washbasin while I continued shaving. One of the guys could really use a little help from Jenny Craig. He was my height but probably was carrying 40 more pounds than I. However, the second guy was quite a scrumptious sight.
He reminded me of Russ. 'Shit! Not another Russ-type,' I reacted. This guy obviously worked out. He had a physique that was seriously honed. At around 5'9" he was compact with all the muscle in the right places and a hairless bubble butt. Finished shaving, I placed my shaving gear back in the dop kit and returned to my room. One final fast glance in the shower room verified that he had a lot in common with Russ, as I quickly checked out his perfectly proportionate dick and low hangers.
After brushing my teeth in the room, I grabbed the base map and bus schedule and proceeded to leave the barracks for a Saturday morning of exploration. Checking out the map, I found the best sidewalk path to get to the Navy Exchange. This area of the base was virtually uncharted water for me. I found the building with no problem. I had been here several times, but always by bus from the training center. On the way, I passed the base theater. I checked out the times and decided to catch the early 1900 movie. They were showing "The Firm."
I grabbed some coffee and a muffin at a Starbuck's counter inside the Exchange. Then, to the aisles for the personal grooming aids, toothpaste and floss. I saw a few familiar faces, probably from the school. And, from a distance as I was checking out with the cashier, I spotted the tanned Ltjg. Di Marco, looking quite hot in a tight UCLA tee that revealed the covered outline of a perfect six pack, tennis shorts that showed off his muscular legs, low-rider socks and Nikes. 'Nice,' I judged. It wasn't convenient to say hello. Plus, I'd probably be seeing him a lot around the pool.
For the next couple of hours I walked the general layout of the base that I hadn't known before. Around 1130, I stopped by the mess hall to have some real food. Going through the line, I managed to get a fairly healthy lunch of today's soup and a salad I built at the ever-present salad bar, passing on the ever-present canned Fruit Cocktail. 'Jeez,' I thought, 'someone in Navy Purchasing must have stock in Libby's.' The scuttlebutt was that the Fruit Cocktail was laced with 'saltpeter' to neutralize a young sailor's libido. 'Urban legend,' I reasoned.
I nodded as I sat at a table with a couple of other guys; neither of us was up to conversation. As I looked around, I spotted "Bubble-butt" from the shower this morning sitting with two other sailors at a nearby table. They seemed to be laughing and having a generally good time. I recognized the heavy-set shower mate and the security watch guy I had seen around 0630. I ate, unnoticed, in silence, observing the scene. I returned my mess gear to the dirty ware area and left.
When I returned from shopping, the walking tour and lunch, there was a note on my door. I retrieved it and entered the room. I noticed that there was still no Brent. The computer was still running with the screensaver.
I sat down on by bunk and opened the folded note. It read, "David Swenson: Mr. Di Marco contacted me concerning your life saver training and qualification with me tomorrow, Sunday. Since I also live here, why don't we meet at the security window at 0730 tomorrow and go up the to the Club together? If I don't hear from you, I'll meet you then. I'm in room #9. Weiss." 'OK,' I thought to myself, 'this sounds like a plan.'
Later, I stopped by the mess hall, got a light dinner and continued to the base theater for the film. Tom Cruise is always pretty cool. It was interesting that "The Firm" had been filmed in Memphis last year. However, I'll take a younger Tom in "Top Gun" any day. 'I feel the urge,' I thought smiling to myself.
It appeared that every loser on the base was viewing the movie. OK, this may be a little cruel. And, I had to include myself in the group. But, alone on Saturday night watching the base movie with a bunch of horny sailors? I guess I'd follow Mr. Di Marco's advice and get to know Memphis better. And, I saw the possibility of making good friends with Phil. I wondered if "Bubble-butt" - I've got to quit calling him that name - and would I become friends?
After the movie, I strolled back to the barracks. Returning to my empty room, I noticed that the computer had been shut down. I did my night routine, hitting the head and returning to splash some water on my face, apply a little moisturizer and brush my teeth. Tonight, I left my briefs on and went to sleep on top of the sheets almost immediately.
Sometime later in the early morning hours, I heard the door quietly open. As I lay on my side, eyes closed, snuggling my pillow, with my leg dangling off the side of the bed, nobody would have suspected I was awake. I've always been a light sleeper. I heard the door close but no light came on. This must be Brent being careful not to wake me up. I sensed from the sounds that he was slowly getting undressed.
His pants made the rustling sound sliding off his legs and I slowly opened one eye slightly. The bright Tennessee moon created enough light to see a dark image of the guy I had met by photograph and my fantasy. He had neatly draped his pants and shirt over the desk chair. His shoes and socks were stowed by his bed. Although quite shadowy, Brent stood with his back to me as he was apparently scratching his boxer brief clad, well-developed body. He stretched, pulled the covers down, and immediately got into bed on his back. As his head hit the pillow, he let out a sigh and covered himself with a sheet. In just a matter of moments, I heard heavy breathing.
It felt good to have the real Brent in the room. With a hand on my crotch, I nodded off.
Awaking with the sun, I swung my legs off my bed, stood and yawned as my eyes slowly lowered to see the sleeping image lying on the bunk next to me. He was basically in the same position that I remembered from a few hours ago when he crept in except he had kicked off the sheet. Even with bed head hair and a face unshaved, Brent was one remarkable male specimen. I verified that he was natural blond, albeit a few shades darker than me, as I scanned his entire body. The black boxer briefs encased an interesting outline of a respectable cock, resting half-mast to the left side. With these observations concluded, I grabbed my toiletries and eased out of the room, quietly closing the door.
In the communal head, I did my thing and proceeded to the shower. As I entered the shower room, the same cute guy from yesterday was exiting to walk over to the washbasin, towel wrapped around his waist. We simultaneously said "morning" as I passed him. We both moved sideways so that we wouldn't touch each other.
As I turned on the shower and regulated the temperature, the guy stood at the same basin I had used yesterday for his morning shave with the same area of visual opportunity. I had some wicked thoughts and a plan germinating in my mind.
I proceeded to give him an innocent show while I showered. I purposely didn't look his direction. But, as I soaped up my body after shampooing, I paid particular attention to the crotch and ass crack. I "cleaned" my circumcised foreskin and dick in his sight line until it was starting to get out of control. Then, I turned and washed my backside, lightly working a soapy hand down the crack stopping to slowly massage my rose bud. After rinsing, back still to the door, I rapidly swung around to grab my towel. Looking his way, I saw him immediately adjust his line of vision from the shower to his face. 'Gotcha,' I thought to myself as I toweled myself dry.
I approached the other washbasin and pulled out my shaving gear. My audience was just finishing. As he started to walk away to his room, he turned to me and said, "Pardon me, is your name Swenson?"
My eyes met his, and replied, "Yeh. Have we met?" 'Wow, how lame is that for a retort?' I thought.
"No, but at this early hour on Sunday, no one is up without a reason." He walked over to me and extended his hand, "I'm Jim Weiss. You obviously got my note?" We exchanged a firm handshake and both smiled.
"Yes, Jim, I did. Thanks. I'm Dave, by the way. I was just thinking about this qualification and orientation. As soon as I get shaved and dressed, what say we get a cup of coffee in the rec room before catching the bus, say around 0715?"
"Good idea. I need a cup." He waved and shook he head affirmatively as he walked away.
Returning to my room, I quietly brushed by teeth, put on a clean dungaree uniform, straightened the bunk, and left my sleeping prince.
As I slowly walked down the hallway to the rec room, I thought about simpler times in St. Paul. I remembered my Mom and Dad looking after me. I thought about the innocent times in high school. I thought about Russ. But now, I thought about Jim. He definitely had watched me shower. And, I saw his eyes drop down to check out the outline of my cock behind the wet towel after we first spoke. 'Hmmm.'