Date: Fri, 3 Feb 2012 11:00:51 -0800 (PST)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Before "Don't ask, don't tell" 3

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 is offensive to you, or if you are
below the age where reading such material is legal, please read no further.
Feedback is welcome.  macoutmann@yahoo.com.


		      BEFORE "DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL"

			      By Macout Mann

				 Chapter 3


Pas and Morgan rushed from Newport to Providence and arrived just in time
to catch the New Haven to New York.  En route Pas told Morgan that he
hadn't seen Skip since graduation, but they'd exchanged letters and phone
calls several times.  Skip was working for McCann-Erickson, the world's
largest advertising agency.  What he did, Pas wasn't sure.  Something in
tv, he thought.

Arriving at Grand Central Station, they caught a cab to Skip's Greenwich
Village apartment.  It was a sunny, fall day, and the streets were teaming
with the assortment of NYU students, artists, retirees, and weirdos that
the village is famous for.  There was plenty of eye candy.

Skip unashamedly opened the door wearing only a bath towel.  "High,
fellas," he said.  "Sorry, I was just finishing my shower."

He hugged Pas more lustily than brotherly, and Pas, acutely conscious of
being in uniform, quickly backed away.  "You remember Morgan Bowen, don't
you, Skip," he said.

"Remember seeing you around the quad," Skip answered, warmly shaking
Morgan's hand.  "Glad we're going to get to know each other better."  He
led the way into his living room.  "Pretty small place," he continued, "but
it's big enough for a horny bachelor.

"What can I get you to drink?  Scotch?  Bourbon?" he asked.

"My usual," Pas replied.

"Scotch on the rocks, please," Morgan added.

"Have a seat.  I'll be right back," Skip concluded.

When he returned with their drinks, Skip had removed the towel from his
waist and hung it around his neck.  Morgan couldn't help but stare at the
other man's ample equipment, but said nothing.  Skip didn't seem to notice.

"So tell me about navy life," Skip commanded

"A lot of shit mostly," Pas answered.  "But it's better than being a
dogface.

"But what about you?  I thought you were going to be running NBC."

"Well, I interviewed over there.  But it turned out that the system is that
you gotta start out as a page, whatever your goal may be, and I just wasn't
willing to do that.  So I also had an interview set up with the tv guys at
McCann.  They said they could get somebody with experience for less than I
was asking for, but the personnel department said I could be a copywriter,
and that seemed better than escorting tour groups around Radio City.  And
so, here I am.  I'll probably be made an assistant account executive pretty
soon.  Lots of leg work.  Get to go back and forth to P&G headquarters in
Cincinnati."

"That's where I'm from," Morgan interjected.  "You'd probably like to get
to know my old tennis teacher."

"Oh?  Does he suck dick?"

"Anything you'd like," Morgan replied.

"Speaking of which," Pas said, "I need to get more comfortable."  He began
to shed his uniform.

"No reason to be odd-man-out, Morgan," Skip grinned.

Soon the three of them were naked, but they continued their small talk as
they sipped their drinks.  Skip reminisced about their last week at Yale.
"A bunch of us are having a farewell drink.  Here our parents are coming
first thing next morning, and Pas gets so fucking drunk I have to put him
to bed."

Morgan laughs.  "Yeah, that's exactly how I found out Pas liked dick," he
said.  "I was taking off his fucking shoes and he calls out for you to fuck
his face."

Skip joined in the laughter.  Pas tried to change the subject.  "So what
are you doing to keep your dick and ass happy now?"

"Oh, here in the village it isn't hard to find a one night stand.  Just go
out and sit on the stoop.  And there are always gals around the office that
love to put out for a good dinner and a visit to a jazz club.

He turned to Morgan and added, "I'll go either way.  Just follow my dick."

"Whatever turns you on," Morgan responded.

"Too bad I didn't know about you, when we were at Yale," Skip said.  He
came and sat on the carpet between Morgan's legs and cupped his balls,
causing his dick to twitch to life.  "Could've done tonight three years
ago.  Love your dick."

"Yours too," Morgan replied.

"He tastes good," Pas told Skip.  "Try it."

Morgan leaned back in his chair and experienced the exquisite feeling of
Skip's lips enfolding his now rigid pole.  "Yes," he whispered, "suck me,
baby."

Skip must've liked the taste.  He immediately began to rapidly throat, then
pull up on Morgan, sending him into a state of wild abandon.  "Oh, god," he
cried, "feels so great.  Yes, eat that fucker!"

Pas was not the quiet observer.  He came over, and rubbed his now hard dick
and ball sack up and down Skip's back as he became more and more excited.
Morgan blew a five day supply of cum into Skip's willing throat, and Pas
pulled Skip back onto the carpet and drank the overflow from his chin.

That was the beginning of the evening and the morning.  They did interrupt
their orgy long enough to dress and go to Asti, the Greenwich Village
restaurant where periodically all the waiters break into choruses from
famous operas.  Their waiter was particularly solicitous.  Skip let them
know he was one of the guys that shared his bed from time to time.

Overnight there was hardly anything that three guys could get into that
they didn't undertake.  Morgan and Pas had to urge their cabbie to extra
effort to get them to Grand Central in time to make their train.


Meantime, Morgan had kept his promise.  He had sent this letter:

		Lt. Steve Matthews
		Staff, Commander Destroyer Force Atlantic
		Newport, R.I.

		Dear Mr. Matthews:

		I greatly appreciated the advice you were kind enough
		to offer me, and I hesitate to request your good offices
again.

I have a friend, however, with a similar problem.  Would you be kind enough
to meet with us?


The Monday after they returned from New York he received a reply.

		Morgan Bowen, OCSR
		U.S. Naval School, Officer Candidate
		Newport, R.I.

		Dear seaman,

I have a very busy schedule, but I will try to meet with you and your
friend at the same location Saturday at 3 PM.



Morgan and Pas were already sipping their favorite drinks at the café on
Scully Square, when Steve arrived, dressed again in his blue blazer and
grey slacks.

"Well, Morgan, I really didn't expect to see you again," he announced.

"Nor did I," Morgan replied, "but I didn't expect to discover that my
friend, Paschal Willingham, needed your advice as much as I had.

"Pas, this is Steve Matthews."

"Mr. Matthews, thank you so much for coming."

"I'm glad I was able to."

Pas signaled the waiter, indicated Steve's drinks were to go on his tab,
and asked what he was drinking.  Soon the waiter returned with Chivas and
soda, and the three of them were soon chatting like they'd known each other
for years.

They had an early dinner at Locke-Ober, a place which an Emmy-winning
documentarian would later say "passes as Boston's best restaurant."  Morgan
didn't think the fare was as good as he and Steve had had last time.  That
had been prepared by a former chef of the French Line.  Afterward, even
Steve said they should've gone to Durgan Park.  Food wasn't what they'd
come to Boston for, however, and soon they were back in Steve's hotel room.

"As an officer of the court," Steve opined, "I should let the front desk
know that we have double, no... triple occupancy.  But I think they should
find out for themselves."

Morgan fucked Steve, while Pas sucked him.  Morgan fucked Pas, while Steve
sucked him.  Morgan sucked Steve and Pas in turn.  And then the program
began again in reverse.  By checkout time next morning there were sore
dicks and asses all around.


Morgan and Pas shared a room at the Cliff House a couple of weekends after
that.  But graduation day was approaching.  The officer candidates had
their picture taken for the classbook, wearing fake Dress White Ensign
uniform tops.  They ordered their real Dress Blue, Khaki, Dress White, and
working uniforms from, where else, Brooks Brothers.  And they got to
request whether they wanted ship or shore duty for their initial
assignment.

Steve had told them that if they requested sea duty, they might keep the
same assignment for all three years of their active duty, or they could be
transferred from one ship to another, but if they got shore duty initially,
odds were that they'd be transferred to a ship after eighteen months, but
they'd still have had some shore duty.  So both Morgan and Pas requested
shore duty.  Pas lucked out.  He was assigned to the staff of Commander,
Naval Forces Far East in Japan.  Morgan was sent to Korea, where the war
was.  He was to become a Communications Watch Officer on the staff of
Commander, Sea Coordination Center, Korea at Pusan.

After commencement ceremonies, dressed in their shiny new Ensign uniforms,
they went to spend a passionate night at the Waldorf in New York, before
"enjoying" two weeks leave time with their families.

There was a big meeting at the Waldorf.  That's why they figured they were
put up in the Waldorf Tower in a room overlooking St. Bartholomew's Church.
"My folks go there whenever they're in New York on a Sunday," Pas
volunteered.

"Well, it's not Sunday yet, and I've got other things on my mind besides
church," Morgan replied.

They quickly undressed and embraced.  "I'm goanna miss you," Pas whispered,
blowing gently in his friend's ear.

"Me too, but you never know.  We may get together again."

Both knew that was a possibility, but they behaved like this was the last
time they'd ever see each other. They stretched out on one of the beds and
69ed until each had drunk his fill of the other's seed.  Then they just
cuddled, enjoying their closeness.

They decided there was no need to leave the hotel, so they had cocktails
and dinner in Peacock Alley, and returned to their room for more sucking
and fucking.  Exhausted, they fell asleep in each other's arms, the light
still blazing in the lamp next to their bed.

Come morning they shared a cab to Idlewild.  Morgan to fly to Cinci, Pas to
Richmond.


Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.