The Academy - 8

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" (literally caught naked and sucking each other’s dick) 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 that didn’t hide anything.

 

"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 now 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 and ready for action.

 

"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 with a nice rhythm.

 

Mark showed how much he loved being tapped by flexing his rosebud and moaning on each stroke of Cray's fuck stick as it glided in and out of Mark’s tight hole.

 

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 several days worth of his 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 his 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 part of the deal.  But that left a lot of places and a lot of teens in Montgomery that were not covered.

 

The Fulton’s 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 folk lived’, as his mother would say.

 

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’s Reform School.  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, making his dick protrude in his jeans as he replied, "I think I may know what you mean."  Patrick looked as his hand made the outline and just slightly nodded his head in acknowledgement, and agreement.

 

Al Estes was 17.  Still sort of scrawny.  Almost six feet tall with black hair and a thin washed out face.  He'd spent five years at the Boys' Industrial School.  He'd gone up after three juvie 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 who received reduced rent to take care of the furnace when needed.

 

"Aint nothin' to worry about down here," Al promised.  "If Amos shows up, he's seen a whole lot worse shit than us 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 for all the other guy’s dicks.  I can't count how many dicks have 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, boy."

 

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 for dessert.

 

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 because of the movies that were shown there), 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 whole 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 Philippines.  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.  He couldn’t believe that this man preached a sermon to his family every day of the year.

 

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.  (And two young boys sleeping in a double bed was no big deal in these times.  Many families had big beds that accommodated more than two boys or girls on a nightly basis. )

 

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 than the prior summer.  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 rings, 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 and he’d outgrow it before he was home again.  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.  Elbert liked the effect that Drew was having on his family.