Date: Fri, 6 Apr 2012 19:05:50 -0700 (PDT) From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com> Subject: Before "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" 16 This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental. This story also contains explicit sexual activity between males. If such if offensive to you, or if you are below the age where reading such material is legal, please read no further. BEFORE "DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL" by Macout Mann Chapter 16 His leave over, Morgan returned to the Stough. No mention was made of the scene that occurred when he was last on board, but for some reason the exec seemed particularly friendly. The commodore did invite him for dinner aboard the Spencer, but all that he said was that he was sorry his leave had to be delayed. He spent most of the time trying to convince Morgan to go regular navy. Morgan couldn't help but think, "Yeah, ship over with the fitness report I'm probably going to get. `This officer is combative and uncooperative.' Fuck it." A week at sea, and then Morgan returned to Yokosuka for the last time. He packed his belongings, had a farewell dinner at the officers' club with Roger Hamilton, and the next morning was detached. He was to proceed and report to Commandant, Twelfth Naval District, San Francisco, for further orders. For some reason, his flight laid over overnight in Okinawa. That was an interesting experience. Nothing else out of the ordinary. As always Morgan was uneasy when the plane touched down at Johnson Island to refuel. It didn't crash. Still, he was greatly relieved when they were again airborne. Once in San Francisco, he checked in to the St. Francis, and headed to the bar where Jerry had worked. He was delighted to find his friend still bartending, and they arranged to meet back at Morgan's room after he got off work. Morgan was already naked when he opened the door. "Man," Jerry said, "you always manage to show up when I'm the horniest." "Hell, you don't know what horny is, until you've spent months on a ship with a bunch of hot homophobes," Morgan retorted. Jerry cupped Morgan's jewels and said, "We gotta take care of that, now don't we?" Morgan pulled the former marine's white knit shirt over his head and loosened his tight, black work pants. Thirty seconds later they were both bare-assed in bed. They sixty-nined, like they had the first time they'd been together. Morgan plowed Jerry's ass and got his plowed in return. They drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, were aroused at seven by Morgan's wake-up call, and realized that they hadn't even turned the bed covers down. Morgan explained that he had to report to Twelfth Naval District, but that Jerry was welcome to sleep in `til noon, if he wanted. Jerry said he'd better head home. There was a little restaurant a block up the hill from the St. Francis that was open only for breakfast. It featured delicious little Danish pancakes, and Morgan polished off fifteen of them before heading to the naval district offices. By eleven o'clock he was no longer on active duty, but would face six years in the active reserve. Morgan didn't anticipate another police action that would call him back, and he did have the GI Bill for graduate school. He retrieved his car and headed east. He'd told his parents he was going to take his time, and not to expect him home until he got there. He went to Yosemite, stayed at the Awannee, and got a real kick out of the fire fall. Next morning he was hiking around El Capitan and came on a hot guy about his age lying on a rock sunning himself in the nude. He hadn't known that you can strip off in a national park as long as you're a certain distance from a road. Anyway the man wasn't happy that Morgan was checking him out and yelled that he wasn't a faggot, "so get lost!" Next Morgan spent three days in Las Vegas. Stayed at the Sands for about twelve dollars a night. Managed not to wager even a dime, but saw Peggy Lee premier her song, "Is That All There Is?", and saw another great show at the Desert Inn. From Las Vegas he headed to the Grand Canyon and was suitably impressed. Then he drove down Highway 23 to Route 66. There were as many hitchhikers on Route 66 as there had been on the road from L.A to Sanfran. Morgan stopped for a good looking, shirtless blond in Levis 501s with turned up legs. He was an 18 year old named Luke from St. Louis. He'd graduated from high school, thumbed out to California on a lark, and now was headed back home. He said he was expecting his draft notice anytime now. Morgan told him he ought to join the navy instead. Said he'd just gotten off active duty. He didn't say he was an officer. Luke couldn't seem to keep his hand off his groin, so Morgan finally asked him if he had an itch or was just horny. He blushed and said it was just habit, he guessed. Morgan said not to worry. He liked to play with himself too. Then he asked Luke about life in St. Louis. "Oh, I'm just a good Catholic boy," Luke replied. "Well, a Catholic boy anyway. I got three sisters and a kid brother. He's ten. Mom thinks he's goanna grow up to become a priest. She thought that about me too, but I couldn't handle all that goodie two shoes shit. "We live in Central West End, in walking distance of the cathedral. In walking distance of Forest Park too. I love to go up to the park and loaf around. "So what's the navy like?" "A lot of bull shit," Morgan began. "But I had fun. Most navy men get more responsibility than army guys do. Most of the officers are o.k. guys. Of course, some of `em are pricks. But you find that everywhere." "Yeah. Like Brother Michaels at school. He was a real asshole. In more ways than one." They chatted away. It was beginning to get dark as they reached Amarillo. "Damn," Morgan said, "I've driven almost six hundred miles today. Time to rest." "I sure have appreciated the lift," Luke said. "Well, I'm going through St. Louis, so you are welcome to sack out with me, unless you're in a super hurry." "Golly, if you don't mind..." They had a simple meal at a roadside restaurant and found a motel on the east side of town. Morgan asked the clerk for a room with a double bed, but when they arrived, he feigned surprise that it didn't have two singles. He'd bought a six pack, which they shared. Then Morgan stripped and slid into the bed, telling Luke he'd have to share. "Can I sleep naked too?" Luke asked. "Suit yourself," Morgan answered. "I could care less." Lying on his back in the darkness a few minutes later, he felt Luke's hand touch his waiting dick. "Oh, yes," he moaned. Soon Luke had sucked him to rock hardness. Then he felt Luke's ass impaled on his prong. He remembered releasing a gush into the younger man before falling into a deep and long sleep. Next day they made it from Amarillo to Tulsa, and repeated the experience of the night before. It was only six and a half hours from Tulsa to St. Louis, so Morgan dropped Luke at his parents' house and told them what a great traveling companion their son had been. He spent an extra day bumming around St. Louis before heading to Cleveland. Cleveland? Morgan's home was Cincinnati. Yes, but Ed Cockrill lived in Cleveland. Sometimes the longest way around is the shortest way home. Afterword Morgan attended the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania on the GI Bill. He joined the consulting firm, Booz, Allen, and Hamilton, and rose to become a partner, before setting up his own company, which invested in new ventures. Paschal Willingham remained one of his best friends. Morgan went to the White House for Pas' swearing in as SecNav. Morgan also stayed in touch with Roger Hamilton, who did return to Med School at Harvard and then joined his father's practice in St. Louis. He later became a member of the Washington University Medical School faculty. Sandy Westinghouse had joined a brokerage firm in San Francisco. He and his wife later moved to New York, where he became associated with the investment firm of Smith, Barney, ultimately rising to vice president. Morgan and his wife often visited them in Manhattan and they visited the Bowens in Cleveland. Yes, Morgan did marry. He had two sons, both of whom went to Yale, and one of whom was elected a Rhodes Scholar and went on to a distinguished career as a diplomat. The other became a well known actor. When Morgan started his company, he moved the family to Cleveland. It could have been headquartered anywhere, but he wanted to be near Ed Cockrill. Cockrill never married, lived a pretty commonplace life, working at a variety of jobs. But he always kept his good looks, and he was always very special to Morgan. The family accepted him just as one of Morgan's old navy buddies. And Morgan never forsook sex with other men. That is until he was in his late seventies. THE END Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. Your comments and critiques of "Before Don't Ask, Don't Tell" have been greatly appreciated. I'd love to read any final comments you have about the story. Every email will be answered. macoutmann@yahoo.com You may also request a complete list of nifty stories by Macout Mann from the same address. COMING SOON: "Age of Wantonness" is a futuristic fantasy that takes place when almost all sexual taboos are no more.