by Jack Scribe
University of California, San Diego, is a large, beautiful, sprawling, modern campus, tucked in the hills above La Jolla and the ocean. It had developed a reputation for academic excellence and student casualness that appealed to me. A bonus was that the drive from home to the campus was a pleasant 20-minute reverse commute on the San Diego Freeway.
I was a little bummed out when the admissions handout mentioned that transfers were only accepted for the junior year. However, when I sat down for an initial interview, the admissions officer explained that there was a military exemption clause in the admissions policy that would allow me to start as a freshman, with credits earned at MSU-Mankato to be applied towards graduation.
Also waived was the March deadline for applications. In that I was an active-duty military man, applying within 30 days, my paperwork would be accepted, along with my education transcripts and validated SAT testing. The admissions officer assured me that my high GPA and SAT scores would open doors at the university, with ease. I was also sent home with an application for a scholarship available to enlisted men. It was sponsored by the San Diego Navy League to encourage men leaving the military - the Navy, specifically - to continue higher education. I would have to wait patiently until June to know the decision on the admission and possible scholarship. 'Might as well take advantage of the benefits,' I thought.
The biggest surprise was that UCSD didn't have a law school. I had spoken a couple of times to Tom Feldman about him being here for pre-law but had always assumed that UCSD also had a law school. The admissions counselor advised me to major in pre-law and set my sights on another law school in the area. Everyone recommended the University of San Diego, a Catholic-sponsored university, for law. 'Well, there it is,' I decided. 'UCSD for undergrad, and then, to the University of San Diego.' If all went well, the next five years of my life had been roughly structured. 'Now, what did Captain Morgan have in store for me?' I wondered.
On Tuesday, while filling out the scholarship applications at my desk in the den, relaxing, wearing only gym shorts, I was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. 'Hmm,' I wondered, 'who's this at four in the afternoon?' I quickly walked from the den to the entryway and opened the door without thinking to cover my bare chest.
"I have a registered letter for a David Swenson," said the young man in a postal uniform. He offered to me a rather thick envelope while his eyes rapidly took in my near-naked form.
"I'm Swenson." He was a fairly hot guy, about my age - about six inches shorter - who filled out the blue-gray short-sleeve shirt and matching short pants quite well. 'Some gay designer must have created the shorts for the Postal Service,' I thought, as I subtly approved of his natural bulge.
"Then, if you would sign the receipt, please," he said with a slight smile, while offering a ballpoint pen. "This is my last stop," he added suggestively.
"Sure," I replied, glancing at the official Navy BuPers envelope addressed to me, with my pay grade rate and service number typed on the label. I signed the receipt and traded the pen for the envelope. "I'd invite you in, but my roommate and partner would be quite upset to find me entertaining such a cute guy," I replied with a wink.
"Well, ya gotta give me an 'E' for effort. I hope it's good news, sailor," he concluded, with a shrug. He returned to his van and I walked back to the den.
Holding my breath, I opened the Bureau of Naval Personnel envelope, and started reading the cover letter, smiling at the complex use of Navy-speak. Basically, I was informed that I had been transferred from the U.S.S. Stennis and re-assigned to the North Island Naval Air Station for formal discharge processing. I was to report to NAS Personnel at 0800, Thursday, for temporary assignment. My personal effects from the ship were in storage at the enlisted transient barracks. The letter informed me that the honorable discharge would be completed within a 30-day period. "Whoo, ha," I blurted out, in my best Al Pacino impression.
Over the next hour, sprawled out on the leather couch in the den, I made a few phone calls and read all the official documents. 'Christ,' I thought, as my eyelids became heavy, 'this is better than Melatonin.' I considered the meaning of the separation papers. Captain Morgan had ordered an honorable discharge under humanitarian conditions. He had dredged up the death of my parents without mentioning that the loss of their lives occurred almost three years ago. 'What a devious fuck,' I judged. However, I would go along with the charade to get out from under the grips of that homophobic turd and his like-minded toadies. The captain would get his...
The next thing I felt has a warm hand slowly moving up my bare leg. My first thought was that the mailman had returned...in a dream. However, when the visitor started the familiar nibbling of my earlobe, I smiled and slowly opened my eyes. Mike was wearing only boxers. "You've got a great way of waking up someone. What time is it?"
"It's around 6:30 p.m., and I'm starved, Dave. You want to go out and grab a bite? That is, after I figure out what the bulge in your shorts is all about." Mike grinned and worked his hand into the bottom of my loose shorts. As my habit around the house, I was free balling. "Bingo," he said with a satisfied look, as he grabbed my hard cock.
"You're starting something that's going to get out of control, Sir," I said, unbuttoning my shorts and unzipping my fly.
"Raise your hips up, sailor," Mike ordered with mock authority. As I complied, he slid down my shorts and pulled them off.
"You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Cole. I would be most appreciative, Sir, if you would lose your boxers, Sir."
"An officer always must look after his men." He stood, pulled off his underwear, and kicked them aside before kneeling between my open legs.
I never tired of looking, except for the circumcision scar, at the naked perfection of my lover that the Creator had provided. Even that was a work of art in my mind.
I pushed his legs further apart, leaned in to nuzzle his ball sac, and inhaled his musky maleness. 'Jesus,' I thought as I started giving Dave's nuts a vigorous tongue bath, 'what a treasure to come home to.' Grabbing his rock-hard penis, my thumb felt the slickness of the pre-cum dribbles that were emitting.
"Oh, shit, Mike, I need this," he said, breathlessly. "You really know how to take care of your men."
I pulled back for a moment, and replied, "Man, Dave...Man. You're the only one who gets this treatment." I stuck my fingers in my mouth for spittle. His ass was too tempting. Grabbing his balls, I moved up and took his dickhead in my mouth. Swirling my tongue around his glans, I picked up his flavor. Slowly, his member disappeared into my mouth and throat.
"And, you're the only man who is allowed to do this. Ahhh...suck old 'Davey'...yeah, babe...and put that commissioned finger up...oh, yeah...Christ," he mumbled.
My hand moved under and past his perineum until my finger arrived at his pucker. Massaging his ring, my finger slowly entered, and eased up his hot chute. "Ummm...ummm...ummm," I loudly hummed, creating a vibrating feeling in my partner's groin. With my finger, I probed until I found his familiar prostate. He jerked a little when I touched his nut. I swung into overdrive and started aggressively sucking up and down on his manhood.
"Jeez...ohhh...take me, babe...oh, you fucker, I love you...ahhh...I'm cumming..."
I felt his balls retreat into his body and his dick expand as the hot sperm traveled up his urethra with force. He exploded in my mouth as I pulled back a little to capture part of his load in my mouth. After the sixth or seventh spasm, he finished and let out a deep sigh. I pulled off and moved up his taut body. Slowly, I leaned in and shared his spunk. He greedily accepted my saliva and his cum with his tongue.
"Turn about is fair play," Dave said, helping me up with his hands in my pits as I rose. When I was in a standing position, he moved forward, wetted his finger, and duplicated my actions.
"Oh, Kee-rist, you make me very happy...ahhh..." It didn't take me long to climax in the hands and mouth of my lover and partner. These were raw sexual expressions of love - tenderness would come later in the evening.
"You said something about being hungry," Dave said, standing up. We traded short, simple after-sex kisses.
"Three words: shower, clothes, car," I replied. We picked up our shorts and boxers and went upstairs.
"I got a special delivery registered letter from BuPers this afternoon," Dave said with a smile as we both got into the walk-in shower.
"I gather it is good news?"
"Absolutely." As we shampooed, lathered, washed, and rinsed, he told me all the details of the letter, including the cute mailman. We both laughed at the thought of a three-way, but concluded that we were happy with just the two of us.
"That means you'll be home every night, so I guess what we just did is good practice?"
"It's not like we need much practice," Dave replied with a chuckle. "Seriously, I suppose that I'll have some watch detail. I find out Thursday morning."
"I want your schedule. Trust me when I tell you that coming home now has new meaning," I replied, playfully swatting his beautiful backside.
We dressed in jeans, tees, and long shirts and drove to the Gulf Coast Grill over on Park Boulevard. We found a corner booth and a very tall, butch, friendly, red-haired waitress took our order. We decided to share the crispy calamari, a large Caesar salad, and the jambalaya of shrimp, andouille sausage, smoked chicken and crawfish. Dave agreed to white wine - I was curious about the Adelsheim Pinot Gris from Oregon and ordered it.
Sipping the crisp uncomplicated wine, I remarked, "You are going to be a civilian before Memorial Day and then what happens? If you're accepted, the fall semester is over four months away."
"First, if you can get leave, let's take a small vacation? I'm thinking the first week of June."
"And, why that week?"
"Cuz I just reserved the cabin on Gull Lake. Mike, I want to take you back to St. Paul and meet Uncle Trey and Aunt Betty. And my Mom's parents could drive up from Des Moines. You can meet what's left of my family, stay a day or so in St. Paul, and then drive up to the lake."
"You've got this all figured out," I said with a smile.
"Not everything...this inspiration just came to me earlier today. I want Brent and Doug to meet us. Brent is finished with the play Memorial Day weekend and you said that Doug was going to wrap the film he's currently working on about that time?" He grinned broadly. "And, I want to invite my old buddy, Russ. He gets a ten-day break from med school starting Memorial Day weekend."
"Wow, my partner has been plotting an ambitious plan. I can get some leave time with no problem. Is there anything I can do to help you organize this vacation?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact. Would you call Doug and see if they can arrange their schedules? I figure that Brent could fly into Minneapolis from New York on his return. Doug could join Brent at the airport, and we could pick them up on the way to the lake."
"That's a big order."
"Ya know, Mike, we should ask the guys if there is anyone they'd like to invite. The third bedroom has two double beds. If Russ can make it, he won't mind sharing a room with their friend."
"I'll give Doug a call tomorrow morning. Yeah, I think that they'd love to have someone up to the cabin. You're a treasure, buddy." I looked into his eyes. We silently communicated mutual trust and admiration.
At our request, the waitress served all the food at the same time so that we could graze. We decided not to order another bottle of wine, knowing that the alcohol might impede the activities later back home.
Wednesday morning, I left Dave in slumber land and drove over to the base for my early morning workout. After stretching and a series of crunches for the abs, I hit the exercise bike for a 20-minute random program that allowed enough time to cruise through the morning Union-Tribune.
'Well, well,' I reacted, with interest, 'this will be interesting news to Dave.' In the section devoted to military was a notice of a new captain reporting today to be skipper of the U.S.S. Stennis. The news story, in the last paragraph, said that Captain Morgan had elected to take an early retirement. I smiled with satisfaction as I got off the stationary bike and went to the officer's locker room for my morning shower.
At this hour, there was always the familiar handful of officers following a fitness program before work. With a towel wrapped about my mid-section, I stepped over to a washbasin and proceeded to run water for my morning shave. I nodded, said "good morning" to an older senior officer who was finishing up and proceeded to lather up.
"Hi, Mike," said a voice coming up beside me to the next basin.
Turning, I recognized Lt. Tom Connor, Special Services officer. He had been medically grounded as a pilot, because the flight surgeon had detected a heart murmur, and was now biding his time in the staff job. "How ya doin'?" I liked the guy. We were both about the same height and weight. He was a couple of years older than me with a constant 'up' personality.
"You know, overworked, and underpaid." We looked at each other in the mirror and smiled. "What's going on at the club?" he asked.
"S.O.S. Same old shit. Lots of weddings coming up. Say, didn't I see your name on a list of honorees for next month's hail and farewell party?"
"Yep, Mike. Hanging it up after six years. Since I can't fly any more, I decided to join my dad in his business in San Diego."
"I didn't know you were from here?" I said.
"Born and raised in La Jolla. In fact, I just bought a condo there. Should be a good investment."
"For sure. What kind of work will you be doing for your dad?"
"Actually, the same thing you're doing."
"Kissing ass to a bunch of senior officers and their wives?" I replied with a chuckle.
"Naw. My dad owns several restaurants. I'm going to manage one of them, for starters."
"I had no idea. What's the name of your restaurants?"
"The umbrella name is the Connor Group. Not too imaginative, is it?"
"Wow, I'm impressed. Your dad has several neat restaurants...never connected your name." I was familiar with the company and the quality it represented.
"Connor's pretty common and I'm just a fly boy. Mike, if I could ask, when do you get out of this man's Navy?"
"I want you to talk to my dad soon. You're just the type of manager we need. In fact, we're going to open a huge restaurant in an old Spanish-style building in Balboa Park next spring. Two dining rooms, a bar with entertainment, and three private party rooms."
"Jeez, I don't know what to say. The Connor Group is on my list to send a resume, because I plan on staying in San Diego. I live over in University Heights, and that's a short drive to Balboa Park." 'Shit,' I thought, 'what a great opportunity.'
"Mike, we've both got to run. Why don't we get together at happy hour over at the club after work this coming Friday? I'll bring some material about the company, and the new restaurant, that we can review. And, if you have a resume ready, I'll take it to dad. He would really be excited about a guy of your caliber interviewing."
"That is exactly what I'll do, Tom. You'll have the resume Friday. Let me ask you another question as we go back to the locker room," I said as I grabbed my gear. He did the same and we went to the changing area.
After filling out paperwork at Personnel Thursday morning, I was informed by the yeoman that I would be honorably discharged on or about May 20, 1997. I was also given permission to live at my home rather than staying in a barracks. In that I would be part of the Naval Air Station enlisted staff for a month, I was being assigned to Special Services and ordered to report to Lt. Connor at 1300. I couldn't believe it as my memory took me back to Memphis two years ago. 'What goes around, comes around,' I thought, 'deja fucking vu.'
I arrived at the special services offices at 1250. Fortunately, the base was laid out in an understandable grid design and the facility was easy to find. Like Memphis, Special Services at North Island was located at the gymnasium facility. But that's where the similarities ended - North Island was three times larger.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for Lt. Connor." I said to an E-3 at the reception desk. He looked up and smiled at me.
"Are you Swenson?"
I nodded affirmatively.
"I understand you're going to be working with us for a month. Mr. Connor is expecting you."
"I'm a little early. I can wait."
"He just got back from lunch. Let me see if he can see you now," the sailor said as he walked over to an office. He stood at the doorway and spoke. He nodded, turned, and waved me to come over.
I came to the doorway and saluted. "Swenson reporting as ordered, Sir." Lt. Connor stood and smiled as he returned the salute.
"Swenson, come in and sit." He offered his hand that I shook before sitting.
"Thank you, Mr. Connor."
"Your arrival at the base couldn't be better timed, Dave. I understand that you worked for Ltjg. Cole in Memphis?"
"Yes, Sir. I was a lifeguard at the club pool a couple of years ago before being assigned to the Stennis." 'Hmm,' I wondered, 'where was this heading?'
"And, you know that Mr. Cole is running the club, here?"
"Mr. Cole and I became good friends. We've kept in touch, Sir." 'Shit,' I thought, smiling, 'have we ever kept in touch.'
"Basically, I'm giving you the opportunity to work with him again. The club pool officially opens this weekend and I want you to be the lead lifeguard. Your records indicate that you're quite proficient and I really need a good man to launch the season. As you know from experience, staffing the officer's club isn't that easy," the officer said with a smile.
"I'd like that, Mr. Connor, and I know exactly what you're talking about. Above everything else, discretion is very important. What do I need to do to qualify?" 'Man, everything is coming up aces,' I concluded.
"Go down to the pool and ask for Petty Officer John Andrews. He can issue you some lifeguard trunks and provide a towel. After you've changed, Andrews will run you through the qualification. If everything goes as well as it should, he'll issue you all the gear you'll need to be a lifeguard. You'll report to the pool at the club at 0800 tomorrow and help Andrews get everything ship shape for Saturday's opening. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir," I said with a big grin. "I'll go find Andrews, now. And, Mr. Connor, thank you. I won't let you down. I'll give you 100% until I am discharged next month."
"I have no doubt you will. Welcome to our group and good luck." Mr. Connor rose and shook my hand, warmly.
Having the afternoon off, I decided to stop by 24 Hour Fitness for a workout with weights and the machines, and got home before five. I called Mike and confirmed that he'd see me around six. He seemed pleased that I suggested cooking steaks outside on the patio grill.
"I'm home, Lucy," said a voice from the front hallway.
'Gawd,' I thought, 'what a horrible Cuban accent.' "I'm in the kitchen, Ricky," I replied in a screeching falsetto voice.
"I've got something special for you, dear," he replied as he closed the door. I heard him yell, "Balbalooooo," as he walked through the dining room.
I turned and smiled as he stopped abruptly at the entry to the kitchen. "And I've got something special for you," I answered with a sly smile.
He stood at the doorway, clutching a bouquet of roses, with his mouth partially open. His expression was one of surprise and humor as he viewed me with nothing on but a small half-apron covering my groin.
"Lucy, you sure have some 'splaining to do!"
Dropping the accent, I walked over to Mike and said, "Babe, I love the flowers. I'll put them in a vase." As I took the bouquet - fortunately the florist had removed the thorns - Mike reached behind and pulled the apron bow loose. I wiggled a little and the apron fell to the floor. "Why don't you go topside and I'll meet you? We'll start with appetizers...there. I've got everything prepped for the main dinner when we get in the mood," I concluded with a shit-eating grin.
"I'll be out of the Navy gear in a flash," he said, leaning in for a husbandly peck.
"Oh no, you don't." With my free hand, I placed it behind his head and moved his lips back to mine. The scenario moved rapidly into lover-mode. After our tongues battled to a tie, I said, "Get out of your clothes before we make a mess...stud."
"You sailors, almost ready to return to civilian life, can be really pushy," Mike replied with a laugh
"Yes, Sir. And don't forget it, Sir." I stood back and gave him a double salute. 'Davey' was motivated and stood at attention.
"Oh, I won't forget," Mike said playfully as he cupped my nuts.
That, Sir, is the idea." I looked into his eyes and gave "Davey' a few long strokes.
"See you in a sec, Dave."
He was almost in a trot to get to the stairs. I admired his tight buns stretching the khaki material as he arrived at the staircase, taking two steps at a time as he climbed the stairs - I was right behind him.
In the bedroom, I reached around and started unbuttoning his uniform shirt. He pulled it up out of his pants and allowed me to remove the garment. His muscled shoulders and torso tapering down to his taut waist still turned me on...after two years.
"I guess I've got to call you boss, again." I said while moving my hands around to his stomach and treasure trail. I let my index finger slowly move around his navel while I leaned in and nibbled at his neck.
"Yeah, how about that. I guess your sorry enlisted ass will have to put up with me for another 30 days on the new job," he replied with a chuckle.
Mike unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. I reached down and unbuttoned the top button at his waist. As Mike's pants dropped to his feet, I moved my hands to his hips and pushed down his boxer shorts. My body and head followed south. I helped him step out of his pants and shorts before I leaned in and took a whiff of his musky maleness. I spread his cheeks and started licked the perimeter of his rosebud.
"You are one horny fucker. Isn't it a little gamy down there?"
"Mmmm," was all I said as I started probing him with my tongue. While Mike liked me pretty tidy, I loved the accents of my man when I orally explored him.
"Let's get in bed." He stepped forward and turned around. His hard dick thwacked me on the forehead as I tongued a few initial dribbles of pre-cum from his slit.
Mike pulled back and growled, "Make love to me."
"Yes, Sir," I replied as we moved to the bed. I had conveniently placed a large pool towel on the bed earlier - learning from experience, this saves lots of wear and tear on the bed linens.
"A sailor and a scout, I see," he said as le looked at the large towel and bottle of lube on the bedside stand.
"I'm always prepared." I remembered the goofy song that Russ and I had sung as kids:
Be Prepared! That's the Boy Scouts' marching song, Be prepared! As through life you march along. Be prepared to hold your liquor pretty well. Don't write naughty words on walls if you can't spell.
Be prepared! And be careful not to do Your good deeds when there's no one watching you. If you're looking for adventure of a new and different kind, And you come across a Girl Scout who is similarly inclined, Don't be nervous, don't be flustered, don't be scared. Be prepared!
'Funny,' I thought with a grin, 'that we didn't consider what would happen if we came across another Boy Scout looking for adventure.'