Date: Wed, 4 Sep 2013 06:15:56 -0700 (PDT) From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com> Subject: It started in a Park 3 This story is completely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. The story also contains explicit sexual acts between males, so be warned! This story is also brought to you through the generosity of the many donors to nifty.org. Without their contributions this site could not exist. Please consider a gift to nifty.org today. You'll be glad you gave. Your comments and criticisms are appreciated. Please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com. Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. IT STARTED IN A PARK by Macout Mann Chapter 3 Rick One afternoon back before the term began, Christian was again hanging out in the Cranston Park Pavilion. An older man, probably in his early fifties, strode across the meadow and into the woods. He was wearing an Izod knit shirt and expensive plaid shorts. His tanned countenance was weathered, his hair trimmed in a burr cut, and he had obviously taken good care of himself. Christian decided to follow. The only reminder of the days when Sparta had been a military academy was the NROTC unit. Sparta was one of the elite schools where in 1926 the NROTC program was inaugurated. Others included Cal Berkley, Northwestern, Harvard, and Yale. The unit was still considered a valuable asset to the school, and its commanding officer was Capt. Patrick Worthington. Patrick, or Rick as he had been known since his first days in grammar school, was originally from Wyoming. Although he had grown up on a ranch in the midcontinent, he had become fascinated with the sea through reading stories ranging from "Mutiny on the Bounty" and "Captain Horatio Hornblower" to World War II's "The Cruel Sea." So given the lack of competition in Wyoming for Naval Academy berths, it was comparatively easy for him to obtain a congressional appointment to Annapolis. Graduating in the middle of his class he went on the serve on cruisers, destroyers, and frigates, with the occasional shore billet thrown in, gaining satisfactory enough fitness reports to move up to senior rank. He had even achieved command afloat. And now he was in academia, a most dignified way to complete his naval career. He had long known that he was not destined to become a rear admiral. Given that he had never married, it was even somewhat surprising that he had made captain. Wives can strongly affect promotion opportunities, particularly at senior levels. He had no regrets, however. He would still be in his fifties when he retired. Lots of life still to live. The bane of Rick's existence throughout life, however, was the fact that he was gay. Something to be kept hidden at all costs. As a youngster, there had been precious few opportunities for sexual fulfillment, especially back in Wyoming. In the sparsely populated regions where the Great Plains meet the foothills of the Rockies bizarre things sometimes happened to suspected faggots. When Rick was a plebe at the academy, he heard of a high school senior back home who was found frozen to death. He was apparently awaiting rescue on a deserted road after somehow the fuel line on his pickup had parted. The cause was never discovered. There had been one other member of his high school football team he could get together with. Miraculously there was a roommate at the Naval Academy that liked to mess around. But throughout his career sexual contacts had mostly been surreptitious, random, and anonymous. Hence, his penchant for taking walks in Cranston Park. Christian realized that once in the woods his quarry's gait had slowed from a stride to a stroll. When Christian overtook him, he had stopped to admire a bush still in blossom. "Excuse me," Christian said, as if to pass. "No problem," was the answer. Then, "I can never get over the late blooming plants down here." "They are lovely," Christian replied. "The flowers are not like anyplace I've ever lived before. You just getting some exercise?" "Yes. I often take walks in the park. Calms me down after a hard day." They chatted about nothing in particular, carefully maintaining their anonymity, until Christian decided that his companion was "o. k.," so he asked, "So whatcha into?" "I like to get sucked," the older man answered. "You like to suck?" "Not usually...but I'll sometimes give head if I'm in the mood...as payback." "You got a big dick?" "See for yourself." Christian cupped his companion's tool, then unzipped his shorts, revealing a nice thick prong. He fondled it as it hardened and grew to about eight inches. Then he knelt and wrapped his lips around it. Rick's shorts had fallen around his feet, revealing low slung balls, which Christian gently massaged as he sucked. "Yesss..." The older man cried. Christian continued to minister to the veiny fuck stick of his companion, using his tongue to heighten the experience of his anonymous partner, until he felt the gush of mature jizz filling his mouth. "That was great," Rick said, as he pulled up his shorts. "Thanks." He walked away in the direction he had come. Two weeks later came the university's opening convocation. The academic procession included all deans and department heads plus all the new faculty, who would be recognized during the ceremony. In the marshalling area, Christian approached Malcolm Pritchard, head of the art department, decked out in the finery of his Sorbonne doctoral robes, and saw that he was chatting with a naval officer, resplendent in dress whites. Christian immediately recognized the officer as his older partner from Cranston Park. "Oh hello, Christian," Prichard exclaimed. "Come and meet Captain Worthington, head of the NROTC. Not many of his guys wind up in our classes but he's a pretty neat guy anyway. Rick, meet Christian Ballard, our new art history prof." Christian noted the look of surprise, almost panic, on the face of the captain and quickly decided how to respond. He proffered his hand warmly in greeting. "Hello, Captain," he said. Then to his department head he said, "Actually, I've meet the captain before. We share the same exercise regimen. But I have neglected to let him know I was also affiliated with the university." The relieved captain smiled as he shook Christian's hand. "Good to see you again, Mr. Ballard. The next time we encounter each other jogging, you must join me for a martini afterward." "That would be a real pleasure," Christian replied. Their conversation was interrupted by the marshal. "Attention," he called, "please take your places for the procession. Deans first in order of academic preference. New faculty along with your department heads." "I may as well march in with you gentlemen," Captain Worthington said. Trumpets blared. The University Mace, bearing the ponderous badge of his office, led the procession into the field house, as the assembly stood and the band played the University Hymn. The academic year had officially begun. The following Friday afternoon Christian was surprised to receive a phone call from the captain. "I was serious about that martini," Rick said. "If you don't have anything on, drop over to my quarters about five. I'm at 405 Jackson Road." Christian accepted with pleasure. When he arrived at the captain's townhouse, he found Rick back in shorts and knit shirt with a pitcher of martinis already made. "Come in," the captain said. "Make yourself at home." "Thanks," Christian replied. "Nice of you to have me." "Yes, I'd like that too," the captain grinned, "but I'd also like to get to know you better." They both had a good laugh. "You gave me quite a start at the convocation," Rick continued. "So I gathered," Christian said. "But I'm sure our secret will be well kept." "In the three years I've been at Sparta, you are the first hookup I've had that didn't stay anonymous. But there's a first time for everything, I guess. Olive or onion in your drink?" "I'm not particular, as long as there's gin and vermouth with it." They sipped their cocktails and did learn more about each other. Christian was developing a real liking for the older man and he believed the feeling was mutual. Rick was the sort of rugged guy you'd expect a senior naval officer to be. And Christian was not your stereotypical artsy fellow. He could hold his own with the most macho of men. So, as the alcohol began to have its effect, it was natural that their conversation turned to more personal subject matter. And as each related tales of their sexual exploits, it was natural that they moved from Rick's living room to his bedroom. Lying side by side in the captain's king sized bed, they explored each other's bodies, tasting each other's nips, tonguing each other's ears, nibbling each other's treasure trails. It was Rick who was first to taste dick. "I can give as good as you can," he teased. His lips thoroughly massaged Christian's pole, slowly building the younger man to a mind-bending orgasm, one of the most thrilling he could remember. Christian gratefully returned the favor. So began a relationship that both men felt would last at least until the end of the captain's tour at Sparta and maybe even beyond.