Date: Thu, 29 Jun 2017 18:09:51 +0000 (UTC)
From: jim ford <sojourn1950@yahoo.com>
Subject: Reflections of a Regular Naval Officer chapter three

This story is fiction (the complete first chapter is true.) The characters
are adults in adult situations. Warnings: The only person you can ever hope
to truly know is yourself. Trust no one; use condoms. If you are not of
legal age or in a jurisdiction in which this document is illegal, go
way. This is my story. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy it, let
me know.

sojourn1950@yahoo.com

Please donate to Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Jim Ford

sojourn1950@yahoo.com

"REFLECTIONS OF A REGULAR NAVAL OFFICER"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

THIS IS NOT LIKE MOST STORIES PRESENTED IN THIS CATEGORY! I was actually in
the military. The situations and settings are real. The names have been
changed for obvious reasons. Although I try to explain most acronyms and
jargon, you may have to google some terms. Google is my rod and my
staff. Wikipedia is my bible... resistance is futile!

Seriously...I feel a need to express my sympathy and sadness for the
sailors who were injured and especially those who lost their lives on the
USS Fitzgerald. Please spare a thought for them and their families. Take a
moment to reflect upon all those who put themselves in harm's way in order
to defend our freedoms. I have seen YouTube videos filled with speculations
reflecting malicious intent and speculation concerning possible covert
operations. I suspect that when all is said and done it will be found to be
a result of improper action or inaction on the part of one or both vessel's
bridge teams. It happened on a midwatch (midnight until 4:00a.m.). I
suspect the Master of the cargo vessel as well as the Captain of the
destroyer were both asleep. Each Navy Captain has `nightly' and `standing'
orders stating he is to be awakened if the Officer of the Deck (OOD) has
"ANY" concerns or if a vessel gets within "X" number of yards from his
ship. (I have personally stretched that yardage, if there was no real
danger of collision. No junior officer wants to wake up his Captain without
real cause.) I submit the Master was apprised of the collision, if not
awakened by the collision. After determining his own vessel was still
seaworthy, he took his ship back to check on the destroyer. I am not privy
to any ship to ship communications, but then, neither are the conspiracy
theorists. Navy ships are required to "continuously monitor channel 16" on
the ubiquitous international marine band radio. There is no doubt in my
feeble little mind that effective communications were at least attempted at
some point.

My initial, uninformed take is that, it was a tragedy that could have been
easily prevented by people just doing the job they, most likely, were
trained and qualified to do. Every Navy ship will receive a "lessons
learned" report. The report will not be assigning blame, (Courts Marshals
will assign the blame.) The lessons learned will discuss what went wrong
and what actions could most likely prevent a repeat. That will never
alleviate the suffering experienced by those involved and their loved
ones. But, it might save lives in the future.

I remember asking a newly appointed Captain on my destroyer how it felt to
have achieved `Command at Sea', the true pinnacle of a Surface Warfare
Officer's career? He said "It feels almost heady at times, but I know it
could all be ended on a midwatch, by a Seaman not doing his job properly,
as I, the Captain, sleep blissfully unaware". Prophetic words.

The Surface Warfare community is traditionally unforgiving of those
Commanding and Executive Officers whose ship is involved in a collision at
sea, no matter which ship is at fault. The first thing they do is to
replace the Captain and Executive Officer, BEFORE the investigation even
begins. Their careers are immediately and effectively over.

I'm not out to write the great American novel. My intentions are to share
some actual events from my past with a bit of sexual embellishment. These
vignettes of my Naval career are not necessarily presented sequentially. A
simple email request will differentiate fact from fiction. Fiction is most
certainly sweeter than the bitter taste of reality.

It's important that readers realize just how hazardous to one's career
being outed really was. I was fearful of being found out, it was like a
shadow on me all of the time. I had no desire to add Fort Leavenworth as a
PCS, Permanent Change of Station, to my list of assigned bases. While
awaiting my first shipboard assignment I had been encouraged to read some
files that contained several cases of "gay" prosecutions of "former" Naval
Officers. I didn't find one case in which an "outed" Officer had been
retained. All had been dismissed and or imprisoned. I was not looking to
trade khakis for pinstripes anytime soon. So sex was most often more
furtive than fulfilling. More mechanical than romantical. One had to hope
that if anyone you had sex with was "outed" they would not, in turn, out
you.

This tale takes place after I had been assigned to shore duty. My `dream
sheet' reflected that I desperately wanted to stay in Charleston, S.C. I
wanted my family to be in familiar surroundings and not have to move
again. It would also mean I would more than likely be assigned as a
Department Head on a ship homeported in Charleston once I came off shore
duty. For my first shore billet, I was ordered to report to the Navy's
Commander, Mine Warfare Command (ComMineWarCom) at Charleston Naval Base.

Mine warfare was not the most "essential" element in modern Naval
warfare. In all my formal Surface Warfare Officer training, mine warfare
had been allotted the equivalency of two pages in a novel the size of "War
and Peace". I had learned two things about Mine warfare... The first, was
that when they said, "Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead"! they were
actually talking about mines in the Gulf of Mexico. The second was that
B-52s had laid mines during the Vietnam War. Oh yeah, and John Wayne had a
former minesweeper as a personal yacht. Those were the three things I knew
before reporting. I did, subsequently, learn that most mines were made to
blow up on contact (used during the Iran/Iraq war.) or by magnetically
sensing the metal hull of a ship. That was why most minesweepers were small
and made of wood. So they could sneak up on the mines.

Upon reporting, I learned that, without ever having been west of the
Rockies, I was to be assigned as the Pacific Minefield Planner. I think I
had a two week training course in preparation for my assignment. I never
did make it past the Rockies.

IMHO, mine warfare was where the recipients of nepotism were put so any
damage they caused would be minimized and every opportunity for success
maximized. Case in point, a son of an admiral who made Admiral was put in
charge of mine warfare. He was retired before I arrived, but there was a
two page list of quotes attributed to him, I.e., "my god! These ships
(referring to minesweepers) are made of wood!" And, why aren't the Japanese
going to be represented at this NATO Summit"? And "How can it be cold in
the Falklands, it's the middle of summer"? For some reason he was
apparently fond of the expletive "Zippy". I was fortunate to have missed
his reign. I served under an intelligent, articulate man whom I respected
greatly. But, I also served with two admirals sons, while at this
command. I wasn't fond of either of them.

I had been a runner and had been working out religiously. When I came on
shore duty I started working out at the Fleet Recreation
Center. (Reportedly built upon orders of a submarine admiral who didn't
want to be naked with enlisted men.) It was small, clean, modern, and had a
hot tub and sauna. I was soon to learn how essential a sauna can be for
cruising while ashore. This particular facility was reserved for
officers. Although it was small, it was not lacking in eye candy.

It wasn't long before I met "Robert". Robert was a Chaplain Commander
(0-5). A mature man, in his late forties. He had a head and chest full of
wavy gray hair. The only hair on his body that wasn't totally gray was a
small, intriguing, salt and pepper patch above the crack of his ass. He was
solidly built. His `high and tight' added to his manly image. (A holdover
from his time in the Marine Corps.) Shorter by a couple of inches than my
own 6' 2", he was definitely broader and thicker. You got the impression
that once he planted his feet, he would not be moved without some serious
effort. His broad, welcoming smile softened his square jaw and those steely
gray eyes. Robert was a movie star handsome man that had only gotten better
with time. His wire frame spectacles gave him an air of sagacity.

In the locker room, he had a habit of putting either foot up on the vanity
counter as he dried himself. That vanity held three sinks and was backed by
a large mirror. (Told you the place was small.) Depending on where I was
standing I got an excellent view of his flaccid cut five inches and low
hangers or a quick glimpse of his brown pucker. I found both views worthy
of more than a casual glance. He caught me watching more than once, before
we ever spoke, and just smiled. I would later learn that he had no idea I
was admiring the view. It had simply never occurred to him that I, or any
man, was lusting after him.

I would come into the locker room, change into my running gear and go for a
3-5 mile run. When I got back I would strip and head to the shower for a
quick rinse and then into the sauna. Robert was often there and we would
talk. We got to know each other quite well. He was assigned to the
Submarine command, so we never really met professionally. Our friendship
was seasoned with discussions, while most often naked, on a variety of
topics. Robert was mentally stimulating as well as visually appetizing. I
looked forward to talking to him almost as much as I looked forward to just
seeing him.

I shared with him an experience I had in a sauna in Newport, Rhode
Island. I was in some formal training and the senior Naval Chaplains were
in some kind of training or seminar at the same time. The group was
speculating on who would be the next `Navy Chaplain'. One opined, "Nobody
but a cocksucker would want the job." Another day they were complaining
about the people they had to deal with on a daily basis... one said, "God
save me from a religious man." I expressed my shock and dismay. Robert
simply laughed and said he was not surprised by this type of behavior. I
guess I expected too much from the clergy.

I never really noticed him watching me, but I certainly watched him. He
moved with a graceful confidence that made larger men subconsciously defer
to him. I just figured he was someone I respected and liked. It wasn't long
before I decided to sound him out on his views regarding homosexuality. I
invented a story in which one of my nephews came out as being gay. He was
clearly not bigoted, in fact, he encouraged me to offer support and
understanding. He felt being gay was most definitely not a choice.

He shared a tale about being a midshipman on liberty in Athens. He got a
ride from a Greek Naval Officer who invited Robert to his home. Just before
he was about to accept the invitation, the man laid his hand on Robert's
knee and began sliding it up his thigh. Robert, then a nineteen year old
virgin, panicked. Flustered and flushed he made his excuses and practically
jumped out of the still moving auto. "You know Jim, I often wonder how
different my life would be, if I had accepted his invitation. All I could
see back then was a potential courts martial."

This story had me chubbing up. "Robert, were you interested in what he had
in mind?"

"I think I was mainly frightened. If it happened today, I don't think... I
don't know how I would react, but I wouldn't be frightened."

Later, I wanted to kick myself for not pursuing that line of thought, then
and there. Que Sera, Sera.

>From that point on our talks became more... revealing, more intimate. At
one point he explained that he pulled Chaplain duty in rotation with the
base Chaplaincy. It meant that once a month he had to stay overnight on
base in case a chaplain was needed for an emergency. A few weeks after
having shared his Greek incident, we were on duty the same night and were
able to share a meal at the Officers Club.

Some weeks later, Robert and I were, again, in the sauna, he asked me to
join him for dinner at the Officer's Club the following Thursday
evening. He had duty and thought it would be nice to share a glass of wine
and some unhurried conversation.

I flipped the edge of my towel up, revealing my naked thigh and asked. "Is
this where you put your hand on my knee"?

His sputtering response was cut short by a new arrival in the sauna. We
didn't get a chance to discuss anything further on the matter until we were
leaving the building and were heading for our vehicles. There was no one
around so I tugged on Robert's arm just before he headed off toward his
car. "I'm sorry about that smart aleck remark. If the offer is still open,
I would love to have dinner with you on Thursday."

"Well, you did kind of surprise me. The offer is definitely still open
so... it's a date."

I'm not sure Robert saw the humor in his declaration. But he chuckled good
naturedly along with my raucous laughter. He muttered something that
sounded like, "I look forward to it", and headed for his car.

That Thursday afternoon, I was standing at the curb in front of
ComMineWarCom alongside a fellow Lieutenant, who happened to be an
admiral's son. We hadn't talked much. Floyd was more involved in the circle
of senior officers than with us plebeian Lieutenants. (ComMineWarCom had a
staff made up of mostly Lieutenants. I am not sure of the numbers, but one
of my Fitness Reports had me ranked as `number one of seventeen'
Lieutenants.)

Our very first conversation had revolved around my receiving a Naval
Commendation Medal from my destroyer. His observation was that I had
somehow been slighted by not already having received the lesser award of a
Navy Achievement Medal. He spent some time deriding my Air Force ribbons
and medals. (I had four rows and he had a single ribbon.) I shrugged it off
by saying I was thinking about writing a letter to the Chief of Naval
Operations (CNO) requesting permission to wear my missileman badge. Floyd
and I really didn't get along.

The next interaction we had was at the Citadel Beach Club during a
`mandatory fun', command cookout. Floyd was ecstatic that I knew how and
was about to show him how to make garlic toast. Floyd was already on my
shit list for feeding my always voracious inferiority complex with his
passive aggressive remarks about my awards and my age and my prior enlisted
time in the Air Force. I was sure this was another backhanded compliment. I
was fast becoming pissed off at his obviously faked juvenile
enthusiasm. Then, Mary, a coworker Lieutenant saw my ire building. She
assured me, "Jim, he's serious, he hasn't a clue on some of the most
commonplace things. His wife doesn't let him in the kitchen. I'm not sure
he even knows where eggs come from. So don't go off on him, he really is
excited. And besides, you'll give all the 0-5's and 0-6's apoplexy if they
think he's upset. He might call his daddy and say bad things about them,
and they think sucking up to Floyd will help get them a command at sea
billet." I went immediately from ire to awe. So that's why they come down
to the planning wing so often. And why they always seek out Floyd to at
least say hello. I knew his daddy was an admiral, but I now realized the
impact he had as an active duty admiral's son. (Minefield Planning was
secured behind it's own keypad accessed door. I think even the toilet paper
was pre approved and held a confidential clearance. Hell, I was the
command's Top Secret Control Officer.)

As I said, I was standing at the curb in front of ComMineWarCom. Floyd
walked up and began chatting. Out of the blue he asked, "Jim, doesn't it
embarrass you to be only a Lieutenant at your age? I mean, you're about ten
years older than the rest of us."

At first my inferiority complex wanted to agree with him. I was aware of
the age difference, but I was definitely in better shape than most of my
peers and certainly in better physical condition than his short, scrawny
ass. I worked out everyday and had even inspired a small group to do a
local ten kilometer run downtown in support of the Charleston Symphony
Orchestra. Believe me hearing the "Song of the Volga Boatmen" from the
rooftop of an ante bellum mansion at the 5mile point is NOT motivating. All
in all, I thought I fit in rather well. Apparently Floyd and my inferiority
complex didn't think so.

I wanted so bad to go off on his ass. Instead, I took a deep breath and
calmed myself. "Floyd, you're wearing your grandfather's leather flight
jacket. You and I both know, it's not an authorized uniform item, but you
wear it anyway. You are also sporting a Rolex watch he gave you.

"Floyd, I grew up poor and sometimes hungry in a very small town in
Arkansas. Kids I grew up with either joined the Army, worked on somebody
else's farm, worked in a factory or ended up in jail. When I joined the Air
Force I became a success story. When I go home now, people stop me on the
street, shake my hand and congratulate me. They are awed that I, `Barlow's
boy' became a real live Naval Officer. If this all ends tomorrow, I still
will have become a success.

"You on the other hand...  Floyd, your father is in charge of all the
Surface ships assigned to the Atlantic Fleet. Just last week he briefed the
nation when the Stark was hit by that Iraqi missile. Your grandfather has
streets in the Washington Naval Shipyard named after him. Your great
grandfather was with Perry when he sailed into Tokyo harbor.

"I am a success as a Lieutenant. You, Floyd, have to make Admiral, just to
break even." Six months later, Floyd resigned his commission and became a
"beltway bandit". I like to think our little talk had something to do with
that decision.

Now back to the fun stuff.

We, Robert and I, agreed to meet at the O'club at 1800 hours. When I
arrived he was sitting at the casual bar having a drink. His drink looked
fresh and I was on time so I figured he hadn't been waiting long. We
adjourned to a table in the corner and soon ordered dinner. He was
disappointed to realize that even off duty I didn't consume alcohol. I
related the tale of my confrontation with the admiral's baby boy. He
advised me to use caution as the senior officers might actually react badly
to my upsetting him. I was dumbfounded! Here was someone I respected
telling me I had to kiss the ass of this idiot because of who his daddy
was. It infuriated me. I had `found a home' in the the Air Force because
for the first time I was not limited because I was a poor man's son. I
could and did rise by my own merit. Now, I was again advised to kowtow
before the rich man's son. The best I could do was promise Robert I would
avoid Floyd. I remember seeing him relax at my giving my word to not
antagonize Floyd. I could tell Robert was actually concerned about my
future as a Naval Officer.

It was still early after dinner and Robert asked that I follow him to the
Bachelor Officer Quarters (BOQ). He was staying overnight in the "senior
officer duty suite". I was sure he had `ulterior motives' in mind, at least
I hoped he did. I agreed without hesitation. I had already made plans to
stay at the BOQ, telling my wife I was preparing for an upcoming
inspection.

Robert's suite was just that. Upon entering there was a sitting room with
plush carpeting and expensive decor. He poured himself a drink and gave me
ice water. We sat on the small sofa. I knew enough to know I had to make
the first move. I laid my hand on his thigh. "Robert, if this isn't why you
invited here, tell me now".

"Jim, I, uh, I don't know what to do".

At first I thought he was expressing doubt as to the whole man to man sex
thing. Then, I realized he meant that he was unsure as to how to get from
fully clothed on a sofa to naked on the bed. I instinctively knew to be
firm, "Stand up." We both stood and I took him in my arms. "The thing to
remember is to take your time and explore. Learn what feels good to you and
do a lot more of that, but keep exploring. Don't reject any of my advances
until you know for sure you don't like what I am doing. Then tell me, I
can't read minds".

I was going to take my time and teach him all the things I had learned with
Max. That is until I began to unbutton his shirt and I saw the uncertainty
in his smoldering gray eyes. If I didn't get to do anything else, I
intended to taste his full lips and feel his cock. I was not
disappointed. His taste was minty fresh from a breath mint and his already
sizeable cock was growing and throbbing in my hand. He inhaled in a gasp as
I broke the seal of his lips. I charted his mouth with my tongue. Soon, he
was sucking on the invader to the point of pain. I ignored the urge to
retract my tongue, instead I encouraged his own invasion. Soon we were in a
spit slicked wrestling match. I forgot all about taking it slow and focused
on our sloppy kiss and gripping his muscular ass while I ground our hardons
together.

I realized we needed to be naked right now. I broke the kiss. In a
confident tone I asked, "Well, what do you think"?

With a serious expression he stated flatly, "You certainly seem to be more
comfortable with all this, than I am."

I was crushed. I looked down at his half unbuttoned shirt and wondered if I
should button it back up. I moved to step away. He must have sensed my
distress. He grabbed my ass and rubbed his still serious hardon against my
deflating manhood. "I didn't say I was uncomfortable or that I didn't like
it. I simply meant you seem to be confident and experienced, for which I am
grateful. Now, can we get naked and get back to kissing and whatever comes
next."

My recovery was instantaneous. We began to undress each other. We had seen
each other naked many times. But, as skin was exposed there was touching
and kissing and nibbling that was new and incredibly exciting. I caressed
his nipples and watched in smug satisfaction as his eyes shown with
surprise. "I, I never knew! Dear Lord! That feels electric"! That last was
almost a shout.

I became concerned that someone might hear. I almost laughed at the look of
utter disappointment when I stepped away to turn on the TV to create some
background noise. I also took the opportunity to strip down to my briefs
that were already soaked with precum. Robert quickly followed suit until he
stood before me in his bleached white boxers. It was at this point I
realized not all boxers were the baggy assed kind, issued in Air Force boot
camp, that could comfortably house a family of four against my backside. I
know, I should have noticed before that Robert's underwear were nicely
fitted to his manly ass. Maybe I did but tonight they seemed to grace his
lower form. They did and he was HOT!

I fought the urge to drop to my knees and suck his manroot through the
precum soaked cotton. Instead, I teased his nipples between my thumbs and
forefingers. I tugged on them to bring him closer. But, instead of moving
closer he just moaned louder as the tension increased. I covered his moans
with my mouth. He began to tease my nipples and to swallow my
moans. Shortly his hands freed my cock and balls. A few strokes and Robert
dropped to his knees. I fully expected to be engulfed in warmth and
wetness.

When I looked down he was inspecting the merchandise. He moved the foreskin
back and forth over the glans. He hefted my low hangers in one hand as if
judging their weight. He smeared my precum around the glans until it was
evenly coated. While all this was new and wondrous to him, to me it was
like a speed bump in a parking lot. If his "inspection" had been more
erotic and less clinical I might not have taken his head in hand and
directed him to, "Taste it!"

He looked up at me and I realized he was still wearing his glasses. I took
them off and gently laid them on the coffee table. He hadn't moved. "Stick
your tongue out."He was far enough away so that his tongue would not
contact my leaking cock. He complied. I wiped the precum onto my index
finger and smeared it on his outstretched tongue. His lips seemed, through
a will of their own, to close around my finger. He closed his eyes, but his
moan let me know he was surprised by and approved of the sweet
taste. Pushing down with my finger I instructed, "Open up"! I suspect even
now, all these years later, Robert was at that moment, that same scared
Midshipman finally kneeling before his Greek Naval Officer. Once he
acquiesced, I ordered, "Open your eyes"! Like a charmed snake, he seemed
intent on studying my cock. "Look at me"! Without his glasses, I wasn't
sure but I wanted him to know we shared this watershed moment in his
life. I rested my cock on his tongue. His lips, again, seemed to naturally
know to form a seal and suck. The wet, warm suction drove all consideration
from my mind. I grabbed his head and began to thrust into his depths.

There are a few men that seem to have a gag reflex. Robert was one of
those. I guess I bruised his throat, because his first reaction was to push
me away. That lasted a couple off seconds before he actually gripped my ass
and pulled me deeper into him. The short strokes were getting me closer and
closer to my goal of complete penetration. Robert built up to a high
pitched nasally whine that vibrated on the head of my cock and soon sent me
over the edge. I literally tried to crawl inside the deepest part of him. I
felt if I could just shove a bit more of my cock into him I could find
Nirvana.

The fuse was lit in my balls, but the explosion detonated just behind my
eyes. There was a complete fireworks stand that was set off all at
once. Brilliant flashes of kaleidoscopic color and sounds of an unearthly
beast unchained and driven mad by the intensity of the sensations. I came
close to blacking out. I was only slightly aware the sofa was there to
catch me as my knees folded under me. I took Robert's head with me as I
fell.

I released my hold on Robert. He looked to be the very definition of
ravaged. His lips were red and swollen. His tears were still streaming down
his cheeks and cum rested on his upper lip having been expelled through his
nose. Even as I observed this his tongue searched his lips for any
unclaimed residue.

Max's words came to mind, "Are you ok"?

Robert looked around without answering. Once he found a tee shirt he
heartily blew his nose and wiped his eyes. Having just raped the guy's face
I was a little nervous and was getting more apprehensive by the second. He
stood and I made to get up. Instead, he waved and kind of gently pushed me
back on the sofa. He reclaimed his original seat beside me. I could see his
cock was no longer hard. I figured I had killed his enthusiasm and was
facing the likelihood of having lost his friendship. I wasn't worried about
his reporting me as being gay. After all, he had just sucked my cock. Ok,
to be honest, I had just raped his face. But, he had participated,
willingly or not.

I could see that he was unhurried and still struggled in his efforts to
regain his composure. When he milked the last of his cum from his cock, I
realized that his level of participation had equaled mine. He had cum too!
I was much relieved.

He searched my face as if seeking some insight as to who I was. His face
lit up in an incongruous smile, "Is it always like this"?

I was a little confused, "Like what"?

"Like when..." He groped for words. "Like when I realized you were cumming
my balls tried to shot out the head of my pecker. I came so hard it
actually hurt... well it would have hurt if it hadn't felt so good. I came
without touching myself. I was just holding onto you and it was the most
powerful orgasm I have ever experienced.

"The most intense orgasms, for me, have always been when I masturbated, but
beating your meat is never truly satisfying. I have always enjoyed sex with
my wife, but it was never as intense as when I only had to worry about self
gratification. Jim, this blows all my expectations out of the water. I
don't know what I thought would happen tonight. I jerked off thinking about
playing with your pecker. I thought about you sucking mine. When it came
down to it, it just seemed like the most natural thing in the world to take
your manhood into my mouth. It was like I've been thirsty forever and you
were offering me a soul quenching drink. I couldn't get enough. When you
came, even though I was choking and gagging I fought not to lose a drop. I
wanted it... I needed it all".

I really didn't know what to say. It felt natural to me too. But, I felt if
I said that it might somehow cheapen the moment. Like I was only saying it
to get some advantage over him or just to be agreeable. I got up and
freshened our drinks. I drank down half my glass of water and moved to
gather my clothes. I then realized he had blown his nose on my tee shirt. I
left it on the floor. With a look of hurt on his face he asked, "What are
you doing"?

"I'm getting dressed. I figured you would like to get some rest and I need
to go check in so I can get a room and take a shower".

He splayed his legs apart and began stroking his already half hard
cock. "Don't go. Stay the night, naked, in my bed". He chuckled, "That
sounded like something Maye West might have said. But, it's what I want. I
want to wake up in the night and feel your muscular, hairy body next to me
and your cock in my hand. I want to put your cock in my mouth again... if
you don't mind. If you stay, you might not get any rest but it would mean a
lot to me". He blushed, but I think it was because he had said, "cock", not
because he was being so blatant about his desires. I think he felt `pecker'
was less pornographic than `cock'."

I moved to the bedroom and picked up the alarm clock. I could see him still
stroking his cock, only it was no longer half hard. Neither was mine. "Are
you coming"?

He snapped to attention and saluted saying, "Sir, Yes Sir"! We both burst
out laughing.

Author's Note:What Robert and I got up to throughout that night will be
covered in the next chapter. If your emails reflect any interest.

sojourn1950@yahoo.com