Date: Thu, 29 Jan 2015 14:37:42 +0000 (UTC)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Robert E. Lee Academy 8
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This story involves homosexual activity between high school age boys. If
you object to such, or if you are underage, please read no further.
Please also let me hear from you. It means a lot to know whether you like
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Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
A YEAR AT
THE ROBERT E. LEE ACADEMY
by Macout Mann
CHARACTERS PREVIOUSLY INTRODUCED
Cadets
Barefield, (C. Sgt.) Carol, 16 Squad Leader, Room 110, Messes around
Bascom, Rory, 17 Care-free non-militarist, Room 112
Baumgartner, Drew, 13 Son of Army Major, Room 110
Calhoon, Elliot, 13 Bright kid, from Kentucky, Room 211
Chesterton, Dean 16 Top scholar, Room 211
Ellis (C. Lt.), Roger, 16 Platoon Leader, Company B
Farrier, Scott 15 Newly tough, Room 212
Fulton, Patrick, 14 Tough Juvenile Delinquent, Room 212
Gunnerston, Richard, 12 Gay from Iowa, Room 216
Hammond, William, 17 Tough, Room 212
Hardcastle, Elbert, 12 Baptist Preacher's Boy, Room 110
Harwood, Kenneth, 16 Very bright, Room 112
Humphreys, Fredrick 15 Real scholar, Room 211
Johnston, (C. Lt.) Baxter, 17 Football Capt., Platoon Leader
Lindstrom, Herbert, 12 Hardcastle's friend, Forrest House
MacMillan, Creighton, 15 Socialite's disciplined son, Room 112
McNeil, (C. Lt. Col.) Benjamin, 16 Deputy Battalion Commander
Menifee, (C. Sgt.) Jason, 17 Squad Leader, Room 212, Tough guy
Montgomery, Jack, 15 Room 216
Muggeridge, Clayton, 15 Room 216
Patterson (C. Lt.), Fletcher Platoon Leader, Company C
Plunkett, Kent, 17 Big-dicked football player
Spencer, (C. Col.) Wallace, 17 Battalion Commander
Stephens, Rex, 15 Room 110
Stone, Frank 14 Jock, Room 211
Thatcher, Marion, 13 Bully, Room 216
Walton, Thomas, 14 Eager to please, Room 112
Witherspoon, (C. Capt.) John, 17 Captain, Company B
Adults
Baumgartner, (Maj.) Stefan Drew Baumgartner's father
Brown, (Coach) Hyram Wrestling Coach
Draper, Winston Math Teacher, Proctor
Fulton, Andrew & Eleanor Patrick's parents
Hardcastle, (The Rev'd) & Mrs. Elbert's parents
Pugh, (The Rev'd Cdr.) Ellis Chaplain
Southerland, (Col.) Malcolm Superintendant/Headmaster
Chapter VIII
Christmas Vacation
Richard Gunnerston had a hard trip ahead of him. The academy bus to the
nearest train station, then one train to Nashville, a second to Chicago,
and a third to Des Moines. It was after midnight Saturday before he
finally reached his destination.
He was met by both his parents. The drive home was as uncomfortable as he
expected it would be. Nobody said much. Once there he begged off having a
snack, pleading exhaustion, and hit the sack as soon as he could. He fell
asleep even before he could jack off.
Everyone slept later than usual the next morning but still got up in time
for a late breakfast before heading to the Lutheran Church at the holy
eleven o'clock hour. It was after lunch before the interrogation began.
If Mr. Gunnerston expected a dramatic change in his son, he was to be sadly
disappointed. He did notice that Richard's body had firmed up; but his
voice remained thin and fairy-like, and his gestures were as effeminate as
ever. He did convince his parents that he really liked the academy,
although he left out the most important reason why. He dwelt on the
discipline and its emphasis on masculinity. And he assured his parents
that the academy offered superior academics and that they would be pleased,
when they received his report card.
It was the next day, when his father was at work and his mother was off
playing bridge at the country club, that he stole away to meet his buddy,
Carl Reinhart. Carl lived only a few houses away. He was a year older
than Richard and was the person who had introduced him to the joys of sex.
He was a well-developed blond already well into puberty, good at both golf
and tennis. His dick was about twice the size of Richard's.
The Gunnerstons had not told the Reinharts that they had discovered their
two sons "in flagrante delicto" or why Richard had been sent to military
school. It would have been unthinkable to admit to anyone that Richard was
gay. So while Carl was not welcome at the Gunnerstons' and Richard was
forbidden to even see Carl, Richard was still welcome at the Reinharts'.
"Hi, Dick," Carl welcomed him. "How's the general doing these days?"
"Surviving," Richard answered. "Turned out military school wasn't anything
like I expected."
"How's that?"
"Guys down there have dicks even bigger than yours."
"The hell you say! So your folks' plans to have them beat the queer out of
you haven't worked out?"
"Man, I get pumped by all three of my roommates and some other guys too.
It's a fucker's paradise down there."
"Well I've missed you. What d'ya say we go out back?"
The Reinhart's house had what was originally servants' quarters attached to
the garage, but it had been unoccupied since the depression began. Carl
had used it as a playhouse since he was about six.
Once the boys were naked, Carl commented that he could tell Richard's ass
had been well used. In fact he just had Rich suck him, then just used spit
as a lube.
"Yeah, man," Carl cried, "you're even better than you used to be."
The two boys used the servants' house almost every day throughout Christmas
vacation. Carl even brought in a couple of his other friends to play with
Dick.
It was also after midnight when Creighton MacMillan arrived in Savannah.
It was a long bus ride with a layover in Atlanta. During the trip he had a
lot to think about. He had found that he really liked the academy. He was
learning a lot and certainly was broadening his outlook. When the grades
were posted he expected to be near the top of his form. He was also
getting into good shape. He loved that. He also loved the sex. He
wondered whether he should fuck around with his friends in Savannah during
Christmas break. He wondered if he should even spend time with them. His
folks would have a bird, if he did and they found out.
The family had a late breakfast Saturday morning. Creighton's father was
anxious to discover how his son was finding life in the Appalachians.
"I'm sure you're meeting the right kind of boys at the academy, son," he
ventured.
"Well, there's a Baptist preacher's son and an Army major's son in my
squad. And I've got a new nickname. When they don't call me `MacMillan,'
they call me `Cray.'"
"I don't know about a Baptist," his father mused. His family had been
members of Savannah's Christ Church since 1733, and Mr. MacMillan
considered all non-Episcopalians, especially evangelicals, and more
especially Baptists, infidels.
"Eric Conroy went to Robert E. Lee," Mrs. MacMillan interjected. "He
always said only the finest boys went there."
"His mother was a Rhodes," her husband said.
Creighton couldn't believe that in twelve or so years the makeup of the
academy's student body had changed radically. Eric must have been talking
about boys with the finest dicks.
"Well, we don't talk about our families all that much," he said, hoping to
put an end to the conversation.
He couldn't understand his parents' obsessions. Sure they lived on one of
Savannah's historic squares along with a lot of other old families, but
that didn't mean their shit didn't stink. He decided that he would sneak
off to see the friends his folks didn't approve of at his earliest
opportunity.
The area where they lived was only a short walk away. Victorian castles
had been divided into makeshift apartments. On Monday he went to see Jack
Murphy. Jack's dad worked at the docks and his mom was a nurse, so Jack and
his younger brother, Mark, had the place to themselves. Jack answered the
door.
"Hey man," he said. "Didn't expect to see you. Your folks let you outta
solitary?"
"Nah, I sneaked off. Said I was going to see somebody else."
"Cig?"
"Sure."
They both lit up and sat down on the worn sofa in the Murphy's living room.
"Who's that?" Mark yelled from their bedroom.
"Creighton," Jack yelled back.
"They call me `Cray' at the academy," Creighton said.
Mark appeared wearing only a pair of worn-out briefs.
"Gimme a cig too," Mark demanded.
"Stunt your growth, kid," Jack responded. But he went ahead and passed a
coffin nail to his brother. Smoking was "the way" that kids showed they
were grown up. Jack and his friends went even further, though.
"So how long you goanna be outta stir?" Jack asked.
"I gotta be back on Sunday, the eighth. We get a long vacation, 'cause it
takes several days for a lot of guys to get home and back."
"Well, have fun while you're here. I know you aint had no pussy, since you
been gone. Probably aint even beat your dog. They put saltpeter in the
food, I bet."
"Nah. You'd be surprised what goes on. I learned what I'd been missing by
not messing around with you guys. I was amazed by all the sucking and
fucking that goes on up there."
At Jack's urging, Creighton described in detail the sort of things the
cadets did to relieve their sexual urges. His explanation couldn't help
but affect the libidos of all three boys. Mark's rod was especially
evident in his threadbare undies.
"You got Mark all excited," Jack teased. "And he's got to where he really
likes dick. You wanna feel Cray up your ass, little brother?"
"Why not?" Mark answered, as he stripped off.
"Go ahead, man," Jack said to Creighton.
Cray was wearing chinos and a sport shirt. Boys of his class didn't wear
blue jeans. Since he had come hoping for action, he wasn't wearing his
usual underwear, and he lost no time getting bare assed.
"Whew," Jack marveled. "You have added some muscles, aint'cha?"
Mark lost no time. He wet Cray's six inches with his mouth, then leaned
over the arm of the sofa, waiting to be penetrated. Cray slipped his shaft
into the younger boy's well-plowed ass and began to slide it in and out.
Mark showed how much he loved being tapped by flexing his rosebud and
moaning on each stroke of Cray's fuck stick.
As Jack watched the show, he slipped out of his overalls and chambray
shirt. He also was free balling. He had a thick seven inches with
abundant pubes that matched his dirty-blond hair. He was only five-six,
but his body was hard and compact. He could hardly wait to take on Cray.
Cray took his time. That is, he maintained the same rhythm from the
beginning until the moment his dick dumped its essence into Mark's hole.
Blessed relief. He knew what Jack was going to do. So he took Mark's
place on the arm of the couch, and Jack tongued his ass while Mark wet
Jack's dick. Then Jack rammed him roughly. He loved it all.
That evening, Creighton's mother dropped the bomb.
"I talked to Mildred Stephens this afternoon. She said you hadn't been
there. You told me you were going to see John."
"So where did you go, son?" his father demanded. "To visit that trash
we've forbidden you to fraternize with?"
"Yes, father, I did. They are my friends and I wanted to see them."
"So....I think this means that you must be `confined to quarters,'
Creighton. That is what they call it at the academy, isn't it."
"No, sir. It's being `put in hack.'"
So for the rest of his vacation Creighton was not allowed off his family's
property, unless he was accompanied by parents. That mainly meant
attending services at Christ Church and Christmas parties at the homes of
their friends in the historic district. He was grateful to be able to
return to the academy.
Andrew Fulton had interpreted what he saw and heard over Thanksgiving more
positively than he should have. Patrick had made some progress, but he was
far from a model cadet. Nevertheless, his father didn't really monitor his
comings and goings during the Christmas holiday.
Part of the agreement that kept Patrick out of the Boys' Industrial School
required that young Fulton not visit certain places or associate with
certain people. Patrick fully intended to honor that deal. But that left
a lot of places and a lot of teens in Montgomery that were not covered.
The Fultons lived in an older section of the city. On South Perry Street,
two houses up from the Governor's Mansion in a typical Victorian Craftsman
house. It was in easy walking distance to downtown and the capitol, but
also to some less savory neighborhoods. In fact Decatur Street School,
where Patrick had attended grade school, sat on the boundary between their
neighborhood and "where the common people lived," as his mother would put
it.
One of the first places Patrick went was to Fuller's Drug Store. It was
also on Decatur Street and featured a new comic book section, where several
boys could usually be found scanning the latest issues. Mr. Fuller didn't
seem to mind.
The drug store also employed several older teens who had bicycles to make
deliveries.
A couple of younger guys were looking at the comics, when Patrick walked
up. They'd been warned that he was "bad medicine." They took off. He
scanned the offerings. The "funnies" weren't funny anymore. There were
now Detective Comics and Superman.
He walked back out in front of the store where he saw an older guy he'd
never seen before. A delivery boy.
"Hey," Patrick said. "You new around here?"
"Been here a few months," the other boy answered. "Aint never seen you
around."
"I'm just home from school. I got sent off to military school. It was
that or the Boys' Industrial School."
"Shit, man, I just got outa Boy Prison. My folks've lived here for three
years, but I been up in Birmingham all that time."
"I've wondered if Industrial School would've been worse than the academy,"
Patrick grinned. "I got hazed like nothing you'd believe."
His companion casually passed his hand over his groin, as he replied, "I
think I may know what you mean."
Al Estes was 17. Still sort of scrawny. Almost six feet tall with black
hair and a thin sallow face. He'd spent five years at the Boys' Industrial
School. He'd gone up after three juvenile convictions for theft of
property. His folks had five kids and couldn't afford the shit Al thought
his brothers and sisters ought to have.
"You smoke?" he asked Patrick.
"I have a couple of times."
"Mr. Fuller looks the other way when we steal cigs," Al confided. "I'm
gettin' off work now. Come on. We can go back to my place and have a
smoke."
"Fuck, man. I dunno. I'm practically on probation."
"I am on fuckin' probation. I aint goanna get you into any shit. Hop on
my bike."
The Estes lived on High Street. It was an east west street that went from
one end of the social spectrum to the other and back again. The Estes
lived somewhere in the middle.
Actually they lived in another Victorian mansion that had been converted to
apartments, a Queen Anne. Al's parents and his three siblings were crowded
into three rooms plus a kitchen and a bath. Patrick was led down to the
basement, however. Down there was a coal-fired furnace that provided
"steam heat" to the building. It was tended from time to time by Amos, a
sixty-year-old black man.
"Aint nothin' to worry about down here," Al promised. "If Amos shows up,
he's seen a whole lot worse shit than smoking,'"
They were enjoying the effects of the nicotine, when Al asked, "So they
been fuckin' you up there at that school?"
"What d'ya mean?"
"Shit, motherfucker, when I went up, I was 'bout your age. They made me a
fuckin' pin cushion. I can't count how many dicks pounded my ass. You
tellin' me there aint no shit goin' on where you was?"
Patrick admitted there'd been stuff going on. He didn't admit what had
really been done to him.
"I've got to where I like it," Al admitted, as he pulled his prong out.
"Fuckin' and getting' fucked. You wanna get together?
"Eat me, man."
Reverend Hardcastle's 1934 Chevrolet didn't arrive at the academy until
after eleven o'clock. He wanted to make sure chapel was over before he got
there.
Elbert and Drew Baumgartner climbed in with all their stuff. Elbert
introduced Drew to his father.
"You been saved, boy?" Elbert's father asked.
"I believe so, sir."
"Believe so!" the Reverend responded. "You've got to know so. Repent and
be saved."
Elbert interrupted. "Most of the guys at the academy aren't Baptists,
Dad."
"Yes sir, I was baptized Presbyterian," Drew said.
"Humph" Elbert's father responded.
Baumgartner was already beginning to regret accepting the invitation. He
found Mrs. Hardcastle much more welcoming, however, and thoroughly enjoyed
the noonday meal. The Hardcastles ate their main meal in the middle of the
day, and Elbert's mother had fixed fried chicken, rice and gravy, sweet
corn, biscuits, tea, and bread pudding.
Afterward Elbert announced that he was going to show Drew downtown,
although it was much more down than town. There was a post office, a
grocery, a hardware store, a druggist, a small movie house (which the
Hardcastles shunned), an ice house, a grammar school, a law office and
three churches.
There were several teenaged boys lolling about. Normally they wouldn't
have given Elbert the time of day, but they were curious about his
experiences at the academy. Although it was only a few miles away, it was
in a different universe to these kids. And they were terribly impressed by
Elbert's friend, whose father was an army officer and whose parents lived
in the faraway Phillipines. So impressed that they wanted to spend time
with Drew and Elbert, while Drew was visiting.
Before bedtime there was Bible reading. Drew discovered that the
Hardcastle family read through every verse of the Bible every year. The
reading didn't bother him, but he found the homily the Reverend preached
elucidating the reading a bit much.
Drew also discovered that he was to share Elbert's bed. That in itself
didn't bother him, but it looked like it would restrict certain other
activities he'd counted on.
On Monday Claude Benton, one of the guys they'd talked to downtown, came by
to invite Drew and Elbert to play horseshoes. Although he'd never played
before, Drew turned out to be remarkably adept, getting several ringers.
Also the boys were surprised at how much more Elbert was able to handle the
give and take of teenage interaction. They continued to hang out together
all during the holidays.
Elbert was realizing that it wasn't just his special relationship with
Herbert that drove his sex drive. He now had a biological need just to get
off. He did manage to remain celibate for four days. Drew was beating off
each time he took a shit. But Tuesday night after Bible reading, as they
were climbing into bed, Elbert came clean.
"Drew," he began, "I know you're missing what you do with the boys at night
at school. I've got to admit that me and my friend Herbert Lindstrom screw
around too, and I miss that. I'll go down on you, if you'll do me."
"Holy shit," Drew said. "Who'd have thought it?"
The rest of the visit was much more satisfactory for both of them.
Christmas was not a big deal for the Hardcastles. The Baptists didn't have
services on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. Elbert's father did go into
the woods and cut a small tree, which was then decorated with chains of
paper, icicles of tin foil, and a string of series lights. Christmas gifts
were mostly fruit, nuts, and hard candy. Elbert usually would get a new
"Sunday-go-to-meeting suit," but not this year. His parents figured that
he would be wearing uniforms most of the time. If he grew out of the
civilian clothes he had, that's when they would worry about new things.
Drew's parents had sent gifts from catalogs, including a five pound
Whitman's Sampler. More chocolates than the Hardcastles had ever seen at
one time. The Reverend thought that was terribly extravagant, but he held
his tongue. Elbert thought Drew's visit had mellowed his father at least
some.