This story is completely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. The story also contains explicit sexual acts between males, so be warned!
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Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
IT STARTED IN A PARK
by Macout Mann
Chapter 8
Stalking
Thursday evening Christian told Jim Hart about his confrontation with Sammie. After all it was Jim whom Sammie had first seen with Christian.
"Well, I guess he could be a pain in the ass, if he wanted to. But what the hell? He's probably already found another dick to suck," Jim suggested.
On the contrary, at that very moment Sammie was hiding in bushes across from Christian's apartment. When Jim left Sammie recognized him as the man he'd seen Mr. Ballard with and followed him home.
For weeks Sammie spend every spare minute in pursuit of Christian Ballard. He was sure that his professor was not as ethical as he made himself out to be. He also followed Jim to his job site and to Cranston Park when he went there to play with his boys. He couldn't believe the comradeship he was observing between the man and his sons.
He also observed Christian and Vernon in various pursuits. Nothing to suggest they were getting together, but then he had also seen Vernon at the park.
He was quite surprised to note the association between Christian and Capt. Worthington. He was only vaguely aware of who the captain was, but he thought it strange that such a relationship existed at all. Unless...
All the queer bashers on campus knew he was gay anyway, so Sammie decided he might as well come on to Vernon and to the captain and see what happened.
His encounter with Capt. Worthington took place a block or so from the officer's home. A quiet street. Very genteel. The captain had worked late conferring with his subordinates to evaluate the new batch of midshipmen. He had then dined alone at the faculty club. He was returning home around nine o'clock still in uniform, when he was accosted by a lisping youngster unknown to him.
"Hello, thir," Sammie greeted the older man.
"Yes, son?"
"I thought...I thought you might like to take me home with you."
"You what?" Worthington's shock was completely genuine. "Why on earth would you think that?"
Sammie never seemed to consider all the possibilities. "I thought...I thought you'd like...to fuck me," he stammered.
"Look son, I don't know where you're coming from. But if you ever pulled this kind of stuff on some guys I know, you could get your lights put out for good. You've got to be sick.
"Where the hell do you get off propositioning somebody like me anyway?" His anger grew more intense. "Hell, if I wasn't in uniform I might just beat the piss out of you right now.
"I don't know who you are or who you think you're talking to, but if you know what's good for you, you'll take off before I do decide to take you home, and then call the police on you, you little queer!"
"Oh, thorry thir. I mith-understud."
Sammie turned and ran away as fast as his scrawny legs would take him. The captain continued on his way. He didn't attach any significance to the incident. At most he suspected it might have been a prank cooked up by a disgruntled midshipman.
Sammie's encounter with the captain frightened him enough that for a time he abandoned his intention to seduce Vernon; but he did continue his surveillance of Christian, and he continued to observe Christian and Vernon's close association. And a couple of weeks later, seeing Vernon at Cranston Park, he summoned the courage on the spur of the moment to try a bold new gambit.
"Thay, Mith-ta," he accosted Vernon. "Mith-ta Ballard thaid you'd like me to thuck your dick."
Now Sammie was hardly Vernon's type, but he had come to the park to find a warm male orifice in which to plunge his fuck stick. So normally he wouldn't have had a second thought before saying, "Follow me." But the seven years that separated their ages did give Vernon a surprising edge in maturity. He had no knowledge from Christian of anyone like Sammie. So he simply answered, "Mr. Ballard?"
"Yeth. You know him. Dr. Christian Ballard."
"I do know him. But I don't know you. And I can't imagine Dr. Ballard suggesting that I would want to have sex with you."
Once again, Sammie had not thought through what he was doing. "You and him have thex!" he cried.
The practiced muscles of an outstanding gymnast reacted before Sammie had any idea what was happening. He found his arm twisted behind his back held in place by the strongest fingers he had ever felt.
"Lemme, go!" Sammie cried.
"You seem to know my friend, Christian," Vernon spat into Sammie's ear, "but you don't know the first fucking thing about me. And we're going to find out what this shit is all about, you little motherfucker.
"My car's the tan Mustang over there on the other side of the parking lot. You can choose to walk over there alongside me—like we were good buddies or something—or I can walk you over there like this with your arm feeling like its goanna come out of its socket. Your choice.
"And if you start any shit, I'll just say you came on to me and I'm taking you to the cops."
"I'll go. Just sthop hurting me."
Sammie was already weeping as they crossed the parking lot.
"We're going to take a ride," Vernon said. "Over to Christian's place. We're goanna see what the fuck's going on."
As they waited for Christian to answer the door, Sammie once again cried out, "No!" He started to bolt, but once again found his right arm pinned behind his back. When a shirtless Christian opened the door, Sammie was shoved straight into the apartment where Jim, also shirtless, was stretched out on the sofa. It was a Thursday.
"Vernon?" Christian was totally shocked. "Mr. Caldwell? What on earth?"
"Sorry to show up unannounced, Christian," Vernon began, "but I think we need to work some things out. Just what, I don't know."
"Well, have a seat," Christian replied, adding, "If this is about what I think it is, it's just as well that you're here too, Jim."
"This young fellow came up to me a while ago at Cranston Park," Vernon said. "You want to tell Mr. Ballard what you said to me?" He asked Sammie.
"No," Sammie whimpered.
"I think your exact words were, `Mr. Ballard said you'd like me to suck your dick.' And, Christian, I can't imagine your having said that. Did you?"
"You know damned well I didn't!" Christian replied.
"Mr. Caldwell is in my Art History class," he continued. "He had seen Jim here having sex with me in the park, and he came on to me, but I told him that it would be improper for us to get together, because I am his teacher. How the hell you got involved god only knows."
There was a long silence.
"I been ss-spying on yall," Sammie finally said. All yall. That navy offither too. I figured if I could show that yall were all mething around...If I could have thex with this guy here, I could make Mr. Ballard...Oh, ss-shit, I don't know..." The same feelings that had overwhelmed him years before when he first encountered the soldier outside of Fort Benning took control of Sammie again. Tears flowed as he recounted his sad life, his rejection by his parents, the bullying, the hundreds of meaningless tricks that passed for emotional fulfillment... "I just want thum one to love me," he wailed, and he collapsed in a torrent of sobs.
"Oh you poor son-of-a-bitch!" It was Jim who spoke. He crossed over to Sammie and enfolded the scrawny kid in his strong arms. "My god."
Christian and Vernon both were amazed. Here was the machoest, hardhattedest bastard either of them had ever known cuddling with this little fairy, who had as much as admitted he'd been ready to blackmail Christian.
Jim, on the other hand, was thinking about his own father, a working man like this kid's dad, who had been the most important influence in Jim's life. "What would I be like, if my father had rejected me?" Jim was thinking.
"Suppose," he thought, "one of my boys turned out like this kid, a limp wristed faggot. I would have to love him just as much as I do now. I would love him just as much as I do now. This poor motherfucker needs love."
"What's your name, son?" Jim whispered.
"Thammie," Sammie sobbed.
"It's all right, Sammie," Jim said. "Hang loose. Everything's goanna be all right."
Instinctively the grateful boy reached for Jim's groin.
"No," Jim cooed, "you don't need a dick. You need something else. And we're goanna see you get it. "