M y name is Glen Douglas and in 1965 I turned sixteen. That was the age at which I was required by law to register with the United States Selective Service. In doing so I would be eligible to be drafted to serve in the Vietnam War.

That was a crazy time. There were war protests and the government tried to paint the protesters as traitors and communists. Some guys ran off to Canada to avoid the draft, and some just went into hiding. I wanted no part of it, so I just ignored the reminder notice I received as my sixteenth birthday approached.

My father was a World War II veteran and very proud of it. He thought that there was no higher honor than to serve in the military, but I had no interest in getting shot at and killed in some stupid war. One day Dad said, "This came in the mail for you today." He handed me an envelope that had a Selective Service return address. I knew it wasn't good, and nervously opened it.

It stated that I was delinquent in registering for the draft. Dad said, "You better get your ass down there and register like all loyal Americans."

"But what if I get drafted?" I asked.

"You'll go do your duty like our family always has done," he said, "I didn't raise you to be a coward."

I was stuck. I didn't think I was a coward, but it just didn't seem like a smart move to sign up to get shot at! I didn't have a lot of choice, especially since Dad said he would drive me down to get registered tomorrow. It seemed so unfair that I might have to risk my life to fight in a war for a bunch of old men in DC.

Dad drove me to the Selective Service office and said he'd wait in the car for me because it shouldn't take long. I went in, scared to death. There were a lot of guys there and I took a seat and waited my turn. Finally I was called up to a counter and a man in uniform began to ask me questions. I'd struggled trying to think of a way to get out of this, so when the asked if there was any reason, medical or otherwise that would prevent me from serving, I said, "I'm homosexual."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at me very sternly.

"Uh, yeah," I replied. I wasn't, but I was ready to say or do anything to get out of this.

"Mr. Douglas," the guy replied, "Are you willing to swear under oath that you are a homosexual?"

"Yes," I said, hoping this would all be over soon.

The guy called out and said, "I got an 89 case here!"

I didn't know what that meant, but I thought he was telling all his buddies that I was queer. I blushed.

An older man approached and introduced himself as Sargent Dawson, and took me into an interview room. This was a lot more complicated than I thought it would be, but I had to go along with it now. We entered the room and he closed the door. There was a large window with a venetian blind. We sat down at the table and he began, "I understand that you wish to declare yourself to be a homosexual." I nodded.

"Mr. Douglas, under military regulation 635-89 'Personal Separations – Homosexuality', you may make such a declaration and will be prohibited from serving in any U.S. military organization – do you understand?" Again I nodded.

"Do you also understand that this will be a matter of public record, and may also influence the possibility of employment by any government agency?" I agreed – I had no interest in working for any government that was so willing to send me off to slaughter.

"Then all we need is confirmation," he said, "Are you prepared to prove you are a homosexual?"

"I don't understand," I said.

"Don't play dumb, kid," Sargent Dawson said, "All you gotta do is what all faggots do anyway!"

With that, he stood up and closed the louvers on the venetian blind. He turned to me, unzipped and took out his cock. He was already semi-hard, so I presumed he'd done this quite a few times.

Now I was faced with a problem. I was straight and never would have considered sucking a cock, but now I'd have to do this humiliating thing to "prove" myself.

"Well, kid?" the sargent said, "You got two choices – suck me or I'll bring you up on perjury charges for lying about your status."

Both were lousy choices, so I did what I had to. I dropped to my knees and opened my mouth.

He pushed himself into my mouth and said, "Okay faggot, show me what you can do."

The feel of his cock in my mouth wasn't bad, but it was just so humiliating, and I had no idea what to do.

"You aren't doing a very convincing job," he said, "You gotta make me believe it!"

I moved my tongue around, hoping to convince him. But I didn't do a very well.

"If I don't cum, you've failed the test," he said.

That was even worse. I was sucking his cock but could still fail. But in order to pass I'd have to make him cum. The very thought of him cumming in my mouth made me feel sick!

After awhile, Sargent Dawson said, "You know what kid? I don't think you are a faggot but are claiming to be just to dodge the draft. But since you've gone this far, I'll help you and explain how it's done – would you like that?"

I pulled off his cock momentarily and answered, "Yes please."

"Okay, then I'll teach you to be a faggot!" he said and explained about how to move my tongue around and make sucking motions with my mouth. I resumed sucking and did as he instructed. As I moved my tongue around, I'd hit a spot he liked, and he would tell me to do more of it.

After about five minutes he said, "Here's what you've been working for!" and began to pump his load into my mouth. It was strong, and unlike anything I'd ever tasted. I felt like I would puke and thought I must be turning green.

"Now swallow and you're done," he said. I gulped and his load was gone, leaving only a strong aftertaste to remind me what I'd just done.

"Well kid, you passed – you know what I think?" he said, "I don't think you were a faggot at all – just a yellow-bellied sissy kid trying to skip out on his duty. Well kid, you're a real faggot now – and you'll have to live with your decision."

He told me to get up as he zipped up. He led me out of room and told me I would receive an official notice of my status in the mail.

When I returned to the car Dad said, "That took a hell of a long time – what were you doing in there?"

I sure wasn't going to tell him the truth, so I said, "There were a lot of other guys there – I had to wait, and then there were a lot of questions."

"That sounds stupid," he responded, "All they had to do was take your name and give you 1-A status."

That was exactly what I was trying to avoid, but could never tell Dad. We didn't talk much on the way home.

The mail came while I was at school, so I wasn't able to intercept my draft status notice. When it came, Mom said she was holding it for Dad, who wanted to see it. My heart sank. Whatever could I tell him? He would be pissed to know the truth, but I could think of no lies that were any better. I went to my room and hoped he would be too busy to open it.

No such luck – when Dad got home it was the first thing he did. He showed Mom and then called me to come explain. "You got a draft status of '4-F Registrant not qualified for any military service' – what's this all about?"

"I told them I was a homosexual," I blubbered out.

"My son – a fuckin' faggot?!" he said.

"I'm not queer," I protested, "I just said so 'cause I don't wanna to be drafted." Dad was really pissed and got all red-faced.

Suddenly he hit me right in the face and I ended up on the floor. Mom tried to stop him from doing anything else – lucky for me she was on my side.

"You think you're pretty fuckin' smart, don't you?" he said, "You just ruined your life!"

He sent me off to my room without dinner. It could have been worse if Mom hadn't intervened. I went off to my room and did my homework. Normally I would watch TV afterward, but was stuck in my room, so I just went to bed early.

Lying in bed I began to play with myself, as I often did. I usually jacked-off then – it was a nice way to end the day and helped me get to sleep. As I stroked, I thought about what Sargent Dawson said – that I was now a sissy faggot. I was determined to prove him wrong – I was straight, even though I'd given him a blowjob.

As I fantasized about some of the girls at school, the thought of sucking the Sargent kept popping into my mind. I tried to drive it out by thinking about girls, but it kept coming back. Finally, I thought of his load in my mouth, and I came – and strongly. I felt ashamed for cumming that way, but soon drifted off to sleep.

In school the next day I would daydream during some of the boring times, and thoughts of cocksucking continued to haunt me. I just wanted it to go away, but it kept coming back.

At home I got out a couple of my girlie magazines and prepared to jack off. I had one hard core magazine my older brother gave me that's showed men and women together. As I paged through I found myself getting aroused by the guy's cocks. I paused at one picture of a woman sucking a guy and found myself imaging myself to be her. Every time I tried to focus on something straight, cocks seemed to pop back into my mind.

I was hard and didn't want to be – at least not from cocks! There was no denying it that gay thoughts had me hard. I didn't want to jack-off thinking of cocksucking, but my arousal persisted, and needed relief, so I went into the bathroom and relieved myself. I left, once again feeling the shame of cumming from such perverted thoughts.

Sucking the Sargent kept haunting me, and I actually thought about finding him again, but luckily would cum and realize what a stupid idea it was.

My relationship with Dad was pretty tense for over a month, then one day he took me aside and asked, "Did they make you prove you were queer at the draft board?" This wasn't a conversation I wanted to have so, I just nodded and hoped it would pass.

"What did you do?" he asked. Now I was stuck. Reluctantly I explained blowing Sargent Dawson, and hoped we could stop talking about this embarrassing topic.

"Did you swallow his cum?" he asked. I must have been blushing, now completely shamed, but I nodded.

"Then show me," Dad said, unzipping and taking out his cock.

"I'm not like that!" I protested.

"Don't give me that crap!" he replied, "You've done this before, so you're a cocksucker – and you'll suck me any time I tell you!"

I felt really conflicted. Seeing Dad's cock before me, I really did want to suck him, but how could I suck my own father? Dad put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. Now his cock was inches from my face and I began to really want it, but remained resolute in resisting the temptation.

"If you aren't gonna serve your country," said Dad, "You can at least suck someone who did." He pressed his cock to my lips and I felt my willpower melting, and soon my lips parted to receive him.

"That's it," he continued, "Now show me what you can do."

There was no denying it any more – I was sucking my own father – it was an awkward situation, but I tried to make the best of it. Trying to remember Sargent Dawson's instructions, I moved my tongue around Dad's cock and soon he came in my mouth. Once again I tasted that strong, unmistakable taste. I didn't like it, and swallowed as quickly as I could, but the taste remained in my mouth.

"Yeah, you're a faggot alright," said Dad, "But let's just keep this between us." I said nothing as Dad sent me on my way.

I had a lot to think about. I still considered myself straight but had to admit that I kind of liked sucking cock. Whether I liked it or not, it was clear that I'd be doing it fairly often – whenever Dad wanted me to.

The next few times were kind of awkward, but I endured the humiliation subjected by Dad. It became easier over time, and soon Dad started to treat me better. He'd gotten over the anger and was really enjoying the blowjobs, and I was too.

After a month it seemed that all was forgiven, and I would hang out with Dad quite a bit. In fact he encouraged it, and often when we were alone he would take out his cock and I'd suck him off.

I still considered myself to be straight, but really had grown to love sucking cocks – I know it doesn't make sense, but that's just the way it is. I still liked girls and continued to date them.

Dad encouraged that, saying it was a good cover, and even if I got married I could still suck him. Weird as that may sound, it made a sort of sense to me.

One day I had a note that a Lt. Medford had called for me. I was afraid there might be a change in my draft status but I didn't want to talk about it at home, so I called him back from a nearby pay phone. Nowadays pay phones are almost all gone, but back then they were pretty common. For a dime you could call any local phone number. I called Lt. Medford and he explained that in order to maintain my 4-F status I had to periodically reconfirm it and asked that I stop by the nearby recruiting office where he worked.

It turned out that he was lying to me. He just was taking advantage of my ignorance, but I didn't know better, and agreed to see him after school the next day.

I entered the recruiting office and Lt. Medford greeted me. There was another soldier there who he turned to and said, "This is the 4-F I told you about – you can go after I finish."

He led me into a windowless office and closed the door. He unzipped and took out his cock and I dropped to my knees. While I didn't like being forced like this, I was now very comfortable sucking and eagerly took him into my mouth. My skill had improved greatly, and soon he gave me his load. It tasted a little different than Dad's cum, but had the distinctly manly taste unique to cum. I gladly swallowed as he pulled out.

"Wait here," he said, as he left.

I remained on my knees and soon the other guy entered. I sucked him, not even knowing his name. It really wasn't important, and something about blowing a complete stranger was kind of nice – kinky as it might be. He didn't take long to cum, and I gratefully swallowed.

He pulled out and I got up and left the office. Lt. Medford set up a regular schedule for me to come back once a month to confirm. I agreed, and soon was looking forward to the next time.

After a couple of months I asked Lt. Medford if I could confirm more often, and he said that would be fine, so I stopped by every Thursday after school. Sometimes I just sucked him, but occasionally he had one or two other guys for me to suck. I was glad that I wouldn't be drafted, but thought it strange that these army guys liked a faggot so well!

  To be continued . . .

Feel free to contact me with your comments or requests.
    –Bill Beaumonte (oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com)