Splash In The Pool - 8. Chapter 8 Re-Grouping

DAVE
I trotted down the hill thinking, ‘Jesus, what just happened in the locker room between Mr.…err…Mike and me? I mean, besides getting my rocks off with this cool guy.’ After running on almost empty for nearly two years, in the space of two days I’d certainly rebounded. ‘Still need to get my tank filled though.’ Smiling, I yelled out loudly, “Fill it with premium,” as I crossed the boundary street demarking ‘officer’s country’ and returned to the reality of enlisted life.

‘What is it? Horniness, curiosity, conquest, love? Maybe all of the above,’ I considered. ‘That I could fall for this tall officer so completely in the space of a day is incredible. Where is this going? How is Mike feeling? I’ll find out soon.’ I conjured up a vision of this beautiful, lanky, man and replayed in my mind the raw action I had just experienced.

However, another voice urged caution. Was I just being silly about the attention being showered on me? Perhaps it was just a military version of a schoolboy crush and I was setting myself up for a big crash. ‘Naw, I don’t think so,’ I thought as I approached my official home, ’but I need to move forward somewhat cautiously.’ There was a distant possibility that Ensign Cole just wanted to use me.

Entering the barracks, I passed by the security window and recognized the guy on duty: Jim’s heavy-set roommate. Casually waving as I passed by, I thought about Jim Weiss, ‘Another hot Russ-type and the sex was great…but it was just a one-time thing.’ I hoped we would become very good friends: a buddy in whom I could confide and trust with my secrets.

Russ-types? So much in the past. ‘I am definitely moving on in my life,’ I concluded, as I entered my room.

I was not surprised that Brent was out. As I changed into a polo shirt, khakis, and Doc Martin’s, I again mulled over what had happened at the club and what my dinner ‘date’ tonight meant. This guy had definitely rung my chimes…big time. I couldn’t even begin to calculate the ramifications of being involved with a Naval officer. ‘Involved? Heck, I’ve already fallen for the guy…big time.’ I thought about some Admiral’s stirring orders from long-ago history, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.”

Turning off the room lights, I dashed outside the barracks and walked quickly to the bus stop inside the base’s main entrance. I checked the time and nervously looked around to determine if anyone was monitoring my movements. I saw a dark green Acura sports coupe moving slowly to the curb and the tinted passenger window rolled down. When I looked in, a very handsome man smiled at me and said, “Hey sailor, need a ride?”

“Sure do, Mister. I’d appreciate a lift,” I responded with a grin. “Are you going to Memphis?”

I opened the passenger door, and with the interior lights on, I could see that Mike’s military look had been replaced by a smart looking black polo and gray pants combination. Looking into his eyes, I knew that I had made the right decision earlier. ‘I don’t know about love at first sight, but this just might be as close as it comes,’ I decided as I eased onto the leather seat and closed the door.

Mike slowly moved ahead to the gate. The Marine guards saluted his officer decal and we pulled out into the mid-evening Millington traffic. He squeezed my thigh and looked at me with a deep, thoughtful expression in his eyes. We silently drove down the main drag that was home to every fast food franchise in America and turned onto the expressway towards Memphis.

I grabbed his hand that was resting on my thigh and said, “I’m going to attack you on the spot if you don’t remove your hand from my body, Sir.”

Mike replied in a throaty, seductive manner, “Swabby, I so have intentions of violating every inch of your body – just not right now – I’d probably run us off the road.”

“There’s some very special inches reserved just for you.” I was enjoying the natural banter and friendly ‘chain-pulling’ going on between us.

“I noticed,” he replied with a low chuckle, “but all in good time. Tonight, I want to find out all about you.” He turned and briefly looked at me. The glow from the dashboard illuminated the sparkle in his eyes.

“Only if I can do the same?”

“Of course. Tell me things that only a close friend would know.”

“You mean how did a boy from Minnesota end up in the Navy, become a lifeguard and then be lured into a meeting with a hot officer out of uniform?”

“Something like that.” He reached up and playfully pulled at my earlobe and neck. “However, I’m not sure who did the luring.”

We traveled down the highway chatting rather generally about our lives. I found out that he was originally from the Chicago area. He told me about his college background. I mentioned my life in the Twin Cities and revealed that my parents were both gone due to an auto accident.

“I’m sorry to hear that. No brothers or sisters?”

“No, just me. And a neighbor guy who was my best friend…still is. And my folks were great. Just before graduating from high school, I came out to them, and mom and dad were very supportive. They said if I ever found someone that I cared for, they wanted to meet him.” I turned and looked at Mike. He turned slightly and smiled.

“I haven’t crossed that bridge yet. I’m not out to my folks, but it’s the first thing I’ll do when that special person comes into my life.”

This was a man I definitely wanted to know better. ‘Shit, I’m bowled over by this beautiful guy,’ I admitted to myself.

MIKE

What had happened was ‘wrong’ in the military way of seeing things, but I didn’t care…up to a point. If this relationship that was just incubating grew ‘legs’, I’d figure out how to deal with it. I wasn’t a career officer, for Christ’s sake, but I also didn’t want to be mustered out as a perv by bigoted military eyes.

Thinking back to my experiences with other guys in Boystown on Chicago’s North Halsted Street and the gay bars in Ithaca, it was always about connecting, scoring safely – and moving on for the next conquest. Other hot looking guys always targeted me. ‘I have an appealing look,’ I immodestly acknowledged, and staying in shape was a combination of vanity and taking care of myself. I was convinced these encounters were just a phase in my life – a detour to experiment with guys – before I would find the right woman for marriage and settle down. ‘That’s the way these things happen,’ I had convinced myself.

Nine times out of ten, mostly out of shyness and the fear of rejection, I would stand at a bar and wait to be hit on. Unless it was someone interesting who came on to me, I would politely tell the cruising guy that I was with someone. When an attractive one did approach, I would warm up immediately and leave with him after chatting him up for information – after an acceptable amount of time. I set my superficial standards high. The guy had to be my age, cute, in shape, possess some smarts upstairs, project a good personality, indicate a bottom preference, and be HIV negative before I yielded. Jaded and snobbish? Absolutely. Survival tactics? Definitely.

When we got to his place – always his place – I would be the aggressor. The only time I fucked was if my new ‘friend’ was a bottom. And it wasn’t that I looked at getting nailed as something not masculine or submissive – I just didn’t like pain. The one time that I had experimented with myself had been excruciating. I grimaced and thought, ‘A cucumber will never look the same to me again.’ But, with Dave, I might just try it.

I was definitely moving beyond my shy, arrogant M.O. of the past. Those days of confusion and denial were behind me. Emotional feelings were stirring that I hadn’t felt before. What was going on?

~~~~~~~
After I hit my 12^th birthday in late August, my voice was starting to crack on occasion. I had experienced a spurt of growth over the summer and was now almost 5’ 8” in height. On top of everything else, I was sprouting a few hairs around my dick.

One night, while in the basement recreation room of my pal, Johnny, he asked me if I had ‘done it’ yet.

“Done what, doofus?” I asked.

“You know.” Johnny looked at me and smiled as he cupped his hand in front of his jeans and moved it back and forth several times, “Beat off…jack off, pound the pud.”

“I’ve heard the other guys talk about that, but I haven’t tried it. Have you?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?” he replied with a snicker.

“Does it hurt?” I knew he wouldn’t blab to our other friends that I didn’t know shit about this ‘beating off’ and was intent on finding out what it was all about.

With that he responded by producing a bottle of his mom’s hand lotion. “Nah, it feels good jerking your hard dick. Wanna try it with me?”

My mouth dropped wide open and I just stared. “Um, what if someone comes in while we’re doing it?” I stammered.

“My folks won’t be back until after the movie. No sweat. Think of it as a game with your friend,” Johnny added with sort of a laugh as he unbuttoned his fly and lowered his jeans to the linoleum floor.

I gulped and said, “Okay.” With that barrier broken, I kicked off my shoes, loosened my belt, and unzipped my Wrangler’s. By the time I had done this, Johnny had already removed his Jockey briefs and was proudly showing off a semi-hard dick.

“Come on, Mike,” he said with urgency, “I know you’ll enjoy this.”

By the time I had taken off my underwear, Johnny had applied some of the lotion to his now-hard, thin, 4-inch red dick. I noticed the dark brown hair growth above his dick. Much more hair than I had.

He gave me the lotion bottle and said, “You’re really getting bigger in the dick department, aren’t you.”

“Guess I’ve sprouted everywhere this summer.” I was proud that he noticed.

“Pour some stuff in your hand and start rubbing the tip of it.”

‘It,’ was my boner. I noticed as I took the bottle that mine was larger than Johnny’s, both in length and around, even though he was 13. I followed his lead. He leaned with his back against the washing machine so I leaned on the dryer. “Hey this really feels cool,” I said to no one in particular.

Watching his action, I matched him stroke for stroke as he sped up. After a few minutes, Johnny’s breathing became heavier and his eyelids went to half-mast. I could feel a tingling sensation in my body as Johnny yelled, “Shit, Mike, I’m cumming!”

And, out of his cock spurted some white liquid stuff. I was amazed. As I continued stroking, my body started to stir and convulse. For a moment, I saw stars and nothing else. While Johnny dribbled more white stuff out of a still-swollen penis, I stopped my strokes because the tip of mine was getting very tender, and almost dry. Just a few drops of clear liquid oozed out and I thought it was just pee.

Johnny opened his eyes with a satisfied grin, “Well, Mike, what‘d ya think of that?” he said as he reached over for a towel to wipe up his mess. Finished, he tossed the towel in the washer.

“What’s that white stuff you called cumming?” I asked. “It felt great, but nothing came out of mine,” I mumbled, a little disappointed.

“First, the guys call it ‘cum’ or ‘jizz’,” he declared while we both grabbed our discarded clothes. “When you shoot that stuff, you’re cumming.”

“But, why didn’t I cum?” I asked with a puzzled expression.

“Buddy, I guess you’re still going through what’s called puberty…voice change is just part of it.” Johnny retrieved his briefs and started re-dressing.

I followed suit. “Guess so.” I’d gotten a sketchy version of the ‘birds and bees’ talk from my mom…but it hadn’t included this development.

Johnny added proudly, “I’ve been shooting cum for a couple months. Every day.”

“Every day?” I asked as I zipped up my jeans.

“Yeah. I use the lotion so I don’t hurt myself…that’s all. The biggest problem is to make sure the folks don’t catch me.”

“Good point. I wonder when I’ll start shooting something?” I asked, still just a little deflated.

“Don’t worry, Mike, it will happen to you soon.” As we walked back upstairs, he added, “Let’s keep this game quiet; just between you and me.” We smiled and gave each other a high-five.

“Maybe we can try this again?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Johnny said with a grin.

‘Game?’ I thought, while walking home. I couldn’t really call it a game, as I couldn’t get rid of the intense desire to touch Johnny’s hard dick and stroke it for him. ‘Wonder if that’ll be in the cards sometime?’

The attraction of touching another guy’s equipment would never leave me, but I never got the chance with Johnny. We were just to be J.O. buddies through eighth grade.

~~~~~~~
As Dave and I drove down the expressway to Memphis, I wondered what this young sailor might mean in my life? The physical excitement and emotional explosion I was feeling were very intense. Our conversation was natural and fresh, immediately being more than just two guys from the Midwest having a chance encounter. For me, this was a chance to get a fresh start, and to honestly acknowledge my sexuality.

“After I get out of the Navy in three years, I’m going to look for a manager position with a non-chain restaurant, where I can become a GM.”

“Back in Chicago?”

“Naw. Too cold. I’m a real pussy to the winters. Don’t really know exactly where yet. What are your plans?”

“When I finish my enlistment, I want to return to school. My SAT’s and first year transcripts from college will get me into most places. But I don’t have any desire to return to the Midwest.”

“Bright guy. I’m impressed.”

“I’ve always done well in school. I just can’t figure out what I want to do. Maybe law.”

“You going to stay in the South?”

“No, I’m ready for a complete change. California might be a possibility. By fall, my homeport will be San Diego. Plenty of time to check out the schools.”

“Interesting. I’ve been curious about restaurant opportunities out there.”

“I guess we’ve both got lots of time to find the right route back to civilian life,” Dave concluded with a determined glance.

We continued with small talk for the remainder of the short, half-hour drive into downtown Memphis. Dave had not had a chance to really get out and see the Bluff City. Approaching the city limits, I said, “OK, Airman Swenson, your first indoctrination of Memphis will be dining on dry barbeque at the Rendezvous,” I tossed out like a tour guide.

“Dry?” Dave responded.

“Yep. These cooks prepare the ribs by painting them lightly with a home-made barbeque sauce, rub in seasonings and then slowly cook the ribs in a low-temp smoking oven with hickory chips,” I explained authoritatively, running through the process. “None of that funky gunk like you get at Tony Roma’s. You’ll love it.”

Dave was checking out the views of this big southern hub as we drove into the heart of Memphis. Off in the distance the moonlight and the lights on the large expansion bridge leading to Arkansas eerily illuminated the Mississippi River and barges with running lights. Rising on the riverbank was the superstructure of the steel Pyramid that would become home to the city’s new NBA team in a year or so.

Driving past some of the other local landmarks, I eased over to South 2^nd Street and pulled off in front of a timeworn, century-old building. Immediately, a valet parker came to my door and opened it.

“Welcome to the ‘Vous,” the uniformed valet said. I got out, as did Dave. I nodded to the valet and walked around to the rear of the car and opened the trunk. I stored my mobile phone and Palm Pilot PDA there for safekeeping, and grabbed my black Mani sports jacket.

DAVE

As Mike went to the rear of the car, I noticed a Mercedes S600 enter the restaurant driveway from the street and move forward to the valet area. It stopped in front of us and a distinguished, 50’ish gentleman, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, got out of the driver’s side. ‘Good looking man,’ I observed, ’who must have mega-bucks to afford those wheels.’

The passenger door opened and out swung two long legs. From the Italian loafers to the well-tailored gabardine trousers, there was a familiarity about the body emerging. Shit...it was Brent, my roommate.

Brent put his matching jacket on and waited. The older man surrendered the car keys to the valet and walked around to join his ‘date’. Brent’s head turned my way and our eyes connected briefly. His brow slightly frowned – just for a moment – and then his expression was replaced with a sly smile as he saw my companion for the evening closing the trunk. Brent then turned and smiled at his older ‘companion’ as they walked into the restaurant. As Brent disappeared inside, I decided to file away this development until we could have an interesting conversation back at the base.

‘Man,’ I reacted, while I maintained a smile on my face, ‘talk about timing.’

Mike returned from the rear of the car and casually put on his jacket. “Hope you’ve got a good appetite. The portions are huge here.”

“I worked up a great appetite, earlier,” I replied with a broad grin. “Should I have worn a jacket?” Until my trunk arrived, I didn’t have many options for clothing changes.

”No, Buddy, you look great. Since I know the owners, I dress up a little more when I’m here.”

We entered the Rendezvous. A rendezvous both planned and unplanned.