I conjured up what this mystery man, who was my new roomie, might be doing on the side. 'A thousand bucks can buy a lot of shit,' I thought as I recalled the quality of the wardrobe in the closet. If that was he in the desk picture, Brent sure ranked high on the stud meter. Clearly, the girl friend was a perfect match; at least on a superficial level. Almost like a merging of models from the cover pages of Men's Health and Self magazines.
The email window was still glowing but I didn't worry about getting caught inadvertently snooping. The message made it very clear that he would not be back anytime soon and I knew that the PC would go back to screen-saving mode at some point. 'Just move on and let the Mac do its thing.'
I took off my shirt and jeans, and hung them in the closet. It was kind of amusing to see my half, bare of much clothing, compared to Brent's collection of fancy threads. 'But it won't look quite so sparse when my trunk arrives from St. Paul,' I decided as I returned to the room and stripped completely. After stowing my dirty underwear in a laundry bag, I pulled back the covers, turned off the light and flopped into bed.
'Gorgeous ass', 'Peabody Hotel', 'client' and 'booked for the entire evening' - that email kept resurfacing in my mind. Under my sheet I lay buck-naked and felt the warm Tennessee evening breeze coming through the window I had opened before pulling down the shade. While I normally wore briefs in bed - slept that way since boyhood - tonight I was too horny to be confined in a cotton pouch.
'What is Brent up to? And...who with? What do you call him? A callboy? Naw. Maybe an escort,' I somewhat naively wondered as these thoughts bounced around my head. He was obviously fresh meat for hire on the sly. And, at a grand for the evening, Brent was servicing people who had money to burn. The questions and images of his extra-curricular activities bounced around in my head. 'How does he get away with this, being in the Navy and all?'
Closing my eyes, I began to slowly thumb-stroke the head of my semi-hard cock. The first ooze of pre-cum crept out and I used God's natural lube to slick down the rest of my now rigid pole. Kicking the sheet down to the foot of the bed, I increased the strokes as I imagined Brent...in the buff...very close to me.
My focus turned to Brent's face and body as I imagined him in me. Plunging...withdrawing...plunging...withdrawing until the last millimeter of him touched my pucker. Slow. Fast. I matched his pace and rhythm. We both had perspiration forming on our brows and chest. I could see his movements increasing and a wicked smile appearing as he licked his lips, and stared intently at me.
"How do you like it?" this blond vision asked with a guttural huskiness.
"I like it hard and nasty!" With that we rocked in unison as he lunged in until I could feel his pubic hair.
"How nasty, sailor boy?"
"Nasty. Ahhh, oh God, uhhh..."
Brent's well-formed body tensed as he grunted, "I'm cumming, lover."
"Me too," I yelled. I opened my eyes wide as an orgasm shook my rigid body, triggering the eruption of a powerful volley of cum. A stream arched up to my chest. After releasing a series of lesser shots, I slowly relaxed and felt a satisfied glow. I closed my eyes once more and willed the fantasy to continue.
In my mind, I saw Brent as he leaned over and pecked me lightly on the lips.
He whispered, "You're the best."
"Say it again so I can believe you," I replied.
"Babe, there's no one like you." Brent's voice and image faded into the night.
I opened my eyes again and scooped up a still warm glob from my chest with two fingers. "Hmmm," I sighed. I brought the cum-clad fingers to my waiting tongue, closed my mouth, and sensually withdrew my fingers. A pleasant earthy, salty flavor remained.
Slowly I got up, looked around the moonlit room and walked over to the washbasin. I really needed to tidy up and wash down my recently invaded chest. Returning to the bunk, I lay back down, covered my body with the sheet and drifted off to a very fitful sleep.
The eastern exposure caused sunlight to bathe the room brightly at sunrise. Being a morning person, I automatically bounced out of bed to get my day started. Since I was alone - the first time in quite a few months - I didn't worry about 'Davie' pointing up to my navel. I wrapped a towel around my waist and secured flip-flops to my feet. I casually covered my morning wood with the toiletry dop kit and walked down the passageway to the communal shower.
Once I'd done my morning piss, dump, and shower, I decided to shave at one of the basins. While I was scraping off my modest beard, a couple of sleepy guys stumbled in.
They kind of grunted and mumbled, "Morning." The two guys, about my age, hung up their towels and went into the shower room. It was large enough, having six showerheads with a ledge for shampoo and soap.
"Hi," I replied a little too brightly. 'Chill out, Swenson,' I thought with a smirk, 'or they'll think you're a perv.'
I had a clear view of the shower room from the mirror angle above the washbasin, so while I continued shaving, I was able to check out the guys. One could really use a little help from Jenny Craig. He was my height but probably was carrying 40 more pounds than I. However, the second guy was quite a scrumptious sight.
He obviously worked out and reminded me of Russ. 'Shit! Not another Russ-type.' I started comparing this guy to Russ and Mark. 'Quite a fantasy trio.' He had a physique that was seriously honed. At around 5'9" he was compact with all the muscles in the right places and a hairless bubble butt. I finished shaving, put my shaving gear back in the dop kit and stepped away from the sink. One final fast glance in the shower room verified that he had a lot in common with Russ; perfectly proportioned dick and low hangers. "Yowsa," I said to myself on the way back to the room, "this place is full of surprises."
After brushing my teeth and putting on a clean set of dungarees, I decided to leave the barracks for a Saturday morning of exploration and forego breakfast at the mess hall. I found the best sidewalk route to get to the Navy Exchange using a base map and noticed a few other sailors going the same direction. This area of the base was virtually uncharted water for me, but I found the building with no problem. I had been here several times, but always by bus from the training center. On the way, I passed the base theater. I checked out the times and considered seeing the early movie at 1900. They were showing "The Firm" and I decided that feasting my eyes on Tom Cruise wouldn't be a hardship.
I bought coffee and a muffin at a coffee counter inside the Exchange and leisurely watched the crowd. Then, off to the aisles to load up on a supply of personal grooming aids, toothpaste and floss. I saw a few faces familiar from somewhere, probably the school. And, from a distance as I was checking out with the cashier, I spotted the tanned Ltjg. DiMarco, looking quite hot in a tight UCLA tee that covered the ridged outline of a perfect six pack, tennis shorts that showed off his muscular legs, low-rider socks and Nikes. 'Nice,' I thought as my eyes drifted to his crotch, 'Mr. DiMarco seems to be well-built everywhere.' It wasn't convenient to say 'hello', so I went about my way. 'Plus, I'll be seeing him a lot on the job.'
For the next couple of hours I walked the general layout of the base and discovered how large it was. Around 1130, I stopped by the mess hall to have some real food. The line of men wasn't very long and I managed to zip through. I'd gotten into the habit of eating 'healthy' with choices of fresh soup and a salad that I built at the ever-present salad bar. However, I passed on the ever-present canned fruit cocktail. 'Jeez,' I thought, 'someone in Navy Purchasing must have stock in Libby's.' The scuttlebutt was that the fruit cocktail was laced with 'saltpeter' to neutralize young sailors' libidos. 'Probably urban legend,' I reasoned.
I nodded to a couple of other guys as I sat at a table with them; none of us were up to conversation. As I looked around, I spotted 'Bubble-butt' from the shower this morning, sitting with two other guys at a nearby table, dressed in civvies. They were laughing and generally having a good time. I recognized his heavy-set shower mate and also the security watch guy I had seen around 0630, earlier this morning. I ate and returned my mess gear to the dirty ware area. They hadn't recognized me and I was somewhat relieved that I didn't have to play '20 questions' as the new guy.
When I returned from my shopping, the walking tour and lunch, there was a note on my door. I retrieved it and entered the room. I noticed that there was still no Brent and the computer was still running with the screensaver active. 'Guess he's still at his part-time job.'
I sat down on my bunk and opened the folded note. It read,
David Swenson: Mr. DiMarco contacted me concerning your lifesaver training and qualification test with me tomorrow, Sunday. Since I also live here, why don't we meet at the security window at 0730 tomorrow and go up to the Club together? If I don't hear from you, we'll meet then. I'm in room #9. Jim Weiss."
'Okay,' I thought to myself, 'that sounds like a plan.'
Later, I stopped by the mess hall, got a light dinner and continued to the base theater for the film. Tom Cruise was always pretty cool and I discovered that "The Firm" had been filmed in Memphis only last year.
It seemed like every loser on the base was attending the movie. Okay, this might be a little cruel because I had to include myself in the group. But, alone on Saturday night watching the base movie with a bunch of horny sailors? Maybe they did put 'saltpeter' in the food. I guess I'd follow Mr. DiMarco's advice and get to know Memphis better on my days off. I saw the possibility of making good friends with Phil and wondered if 'Bubble-butt' - I've got to quit calling him that name - and I would become buddies? 'I gotta introduce myself the next time we run into each other.'
After the movie, I strolled back to the barracks. The film was pretty good and I enjoyed seeing the exterior shots of Memphis on the big screen in Techno-fuckin'-color. However, I was a big fan of the younger Tom in "Top Gun" and especially appreciated the relevance now that I was also in uniform. 'I feel the urge,' I thought smiling to myself, wondering if it was true about Tom being into guys.
My room was still empty, but I noticed that the computer had been shut down. 'The Phantom' had surfaced in my absence. I 'hit the head' and returned to the room. My nightly routine was to apply a little moisturizer and brush my teeth. Tonight, I left on my briefs, lay on top of the sheet and went into a deep sleep almost immediately.
Sometime later, in the early morning hours, I heard the door quietly open. I've always been a light sleeper and wake up at the drop of a pin. I kept my eyes almost closed and snuggled my pillow, with my leg dangling off the side of the bed. No one would have suspected I was awake. I heard the door close but no light came on. This must be Brent, being careful not to disturb me. I sensed from the sounds that he was slowly getting undressed.
His pants made quiet rustling sounds as they slid off his legs. I slowly opened one eye a little wider. The bright Tennessee moon created enough light to see a dark image of the guy I had met only by photograph and fantasy. He had neatly draped his pants and shirt over the desk chair, and stowed his shoes and socks by his bed. Although it was quite shadowy, I could make out Brent, standing with his back to me, as he scratched his stomach. The hot silhouette of his well-developed body revealed broad shoulders and a torso that tapered down to a trim waist and tight buns. 'Yum.' He stretched, pulled the covers down, and immediately got into bed. As his head hit the pillow, he let out a sigh and covered himself with a sheet. In just a matter of moments, I heard heavy breathing.
It felt good - maybe even comforting - to have the real Brent in the room. I rearranged myself and nodded off.
Awaking with the sun, I swung my legs off my bed, stood and yawned as my eyes slowly lowered to see the sleeping image lying on the bunk next to me. Brent was basically in the same position that I remembered from a few hours ago when he crept in, except he had kicked off the sheet. Even with 'bed head' hair and his face unshaved, Brent was one remarkable male specimen. I verified that he was a natural blond, albeit a few shades darker than me, as I scanned his entire body. The black boxer briefs showcased an interesting outline of his equipment, resting half-mast to the left. With these observations concluded, I grabbed my toiletries and eased out of the room, quietly closing the door.
In the communal head, I did my thing and proceeded to the shower. As I entered the shower room, the same cute guy - 'Bubble-butt' - from yesterday, was exiting to walk over to the washbasin, towel wrapped around his waist. We simultaneously said, "Morning," as I passed him. We both moved sideways so that we wouldn't touch each other and I decided this was not the time to introduce myself.
As I turned on the shower and regulated the temperature, I noticed that the guy was standing at the same basin for his morning shave as I had used yesterday - with the same area of visual opportunity. I had some wicked thoughts and a plan germinated in my mind.
I proceeded to give him a not-so-innocent show - probably X-rated in Kansas - while I showered. I purposely didn't look in his direction. But, as I soaped up my body after shampooing, I paid particular attention to the crotch and ass crack. I "cleaned" my circumcised dick in his sight line until 'it' was starting to get out of control. Then, I turned and washed my backside, lightly working a soapy hand down the crack stopping to slowly massage my rose bud. After rinsing, my backside facing the doorway, I rapidly swung around to grab my towel. Looking his way, I saw him immediately adjust his line of vision from the shower back to his face. 'Gotcha,' I thought to myself as I toweled myself dry, 'the guy was checking me out.' Score one for Dave.
As I approached the other washbasin and pulled out my shaving gear, my audience of one was just finishing. When he started to walk back to his room, he turned to me and said, "Pardon me, is your name Swenson?"
My eyes met his, as I replied, "Yeah. Have we met?" 'Wow, how lame is that for a retort?' I thought.
"No, but at this early hour on Sunday, no one in their right mind is up without a good reason." He walked over to me and extended his hand, "I'm Jim Weiss. You obviously got my note?"
We exchanged firm handshakes and both smiled.
"Yes, Jim, I did. Thanks. I'm Dave, by the way. I was just thinking about this qualification and orientation. As soon as I get shaved and dressed, what say we get a cup of coffee in the rec room before catching the bus? Say around 0715?"
"Good idea. I need a cup." He waved and nodded his head affirmatively as he walked away.
Returning to my room, I quickly brushed by teeth, put on a clean dungaree uniform, and straightened the bunk. Brent was still comatose. I stepped out to the passageway and quietly closed the door so as not to wake up 'sleeping beauty'.
As I slowly walked down the hallway to the rec room, I thought about simpler times in St. Paul. I remembered my Mom and Dad looking after me. I thought about the innocent times in high school. I thought about Russ. But now, too, I thought about Jim. He definitely had watched me shower. And I had seen his eyes drop down to check out the outline of my cock behind the wet towel after we first spoke. "Hmmm, this goes beyond the usual judging of another guy's size," I snickered under my breath, and continued, "besides, I won."