A Marine Called Jason - Part Three, gay erotic stories at Gaydemon.

A Marine Called Jason - Part Three

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Written by: Peter

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With the help of the booze, we literally fucked ourselves into a stupor. I woke up, still in the corner of the garden, entangled with two other GIs and one of the Vietnamese boys wrapped around me. I felt the boy's cock throbbing against my butt. When he tried to put it in me I crawled out of the pile of bodies and stumbled off to find my clothes. I wasn't sure I ended up with all of my own clothes, except for my pants, but they fit so I guess mine would fit him. My wallet was still intact.

I didn't wait for the others to leave. I left alone, in a bit of daze; I couldn't quite believe that such a place existed. When I got back to the barracks and showered, I took off a pair of shorts that had a laundry mark that wasn't mine. I threw them away; I didn't want to have to explain wearing somebody else's shorts.

I was promoted to Sergeant and there was a celebration at the Dragonfly with the guys from the barracks. Later I went to Toby's to celebrate by myself. Toby looked like he wasn't feeling good.

"What'll you have?" he asked rather quietly.

I gave him a blank look. It was the first time he'd ever asked me what I wanted to drink. He knew.

"The same," I said with a curious look.

He got my beer and instead of sliding it across the bar like he always did he reached over and set it squarely in front of me. I saw a sad look in his eyes and he glanced away from me a couple of times, like he was avoiding me. His mood wasn't conducive to announcing my promotion. I gave him another curious look and took a drink of beer, looking at him over the top of the bottle.

"You...haven't heard," he said in a soft, flat tone.

"Heard what?" I asked.

Toby gushed the air out of his lungs with a pained look on his face.

"Heard what?" I asked again, now with panic in my voice.

He still hesitated, like he just couldn't get the words out.

"Heard what?" I asked, and in those few seconds that lapsed I grew panicky.

"Jason's plane went down."

The air went out of me like a giant fist had slammed into my midsection and the blood left my head, leaving me light-headed. It seemed like everything around me stopped; ceased to exist, and I was sitting there alone in limbo. I slid up onto the bar stool because my legs weren't going to hold me up. I felt sick to my stomach.

"My Godd!" I whispered. "He....he's....he's not....."

Toby just shook his head.

I downed the reset of my beer and Toby put a glass of whiskey in front of me and set the bottle beside it.

"I'm sorry, Brad. I am so fuckin' sorry. He was a great guy."

I sat there staring into the empty glass. I needed a drink but I didn't have the strength to lift the bottle. I gasped in deep breaths of air, trying to quell the sick feeling in my stomach. I was going to loose it. Toby poured some whiskey in the glass and I downed it.

"Where? When?" I asked, setting the glass down with a loud crack.

"It's fuckin' crazy. They were on their way back, they were stopping for refueling and something went wrong. There were only two survivors."

I wanted to ask if Jason was one of them; if he was just hurt, but I knew better. I put my hand to my head and closed my eyes tightly, fighting down the emotions that threatened to burst free. I couldn't loose control. Not there in Toby's. Jason would expect more than that from me.

"He got to see his family, at least," Toby went on in a consoling tone, but if it was supposed to be any consolation, it wasn't. Not for me.

"Geezuss, all that guy did, and he went down in a goddamed airplane?" I said. I gulped down another drink of whiskey.

"Do you need to use my office for a little bit?" Toby asked.

I shook my head. "No. No, I....I have to go someplace." I poured myself another drink, downed it and stood down from the barstool.

"Brad....are you going to be okay," Toby said.

I waved him off. I exited the bar and sucked in the night air, pungent with the odors of a city that didn't concern itself about air pollution. It smelled good to me. It smelled like war and I sucked it in like it was an aphrodisiac. I walked hard in the direction of the church. I needed God worse than I'd ever needed Him in my life and it wasn't all for good and holy reasons. I was angry. I had no right to be; I had broken two big promises to God. But I wanted some answers why this stupid thing had happened, and I had a few things to say to that saint. And the patron saint of military men....whoever he was....where the hell was he? I wasn't sure what a patron saint did; guys were getting killed by the thousands in this God-forsaken place.

I wasn't any calmer by the time I got to the church but I entered with the reverence and respect that had been instilled in me as a boy. I was angry, but you didn't show anger in the house of God. I took a pew in the front and knelt down, near the grotto of the saint I'd prayed to for Jason's safety. I didn't look up at the statue. Suddenly I didn't have anything to say to him, and if he had anything to say to me, he could have God strike me down to get my attention. I looked up at the crucifix instead....stared at it for a long time....and felt a calm come over me. There He was, hanging on the cross, dead. Dead, like Jason. For the first time, I think, I felt bad that Christ had died, but God help me, I felt worse that he had taken Jason. I don't know what it was, but the tension left me and I realized that it wasn't all anger, but grief that consumed me.

I tried to fight down the emotions and the tears. I didn't know why. I don't know why anybody does that. It's there and it's going to be there till you let it out or it's going to hurt all the worse. In my case I didn't let it out, it escaped on its own. I started to recite the litany of prayers I'd learned as a boy....Hail Mary, full of grace....but my shoulders slumped and I sobbed. I lost it completely. I cried so hard, it hurt.

I heard footsteps coming into the church then someone moved into a pew close behind me. I didn't realize how close till I felt a big, strong hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, buddy....excuse me....Geezuss, what's wrong?" he asked. His voice was hard and deep. When I didn't answer he got up and moved into the pew beside me. He was intruding on my space but I was grateful for his presence. I was more grateful when I felt his arm across my shoulder and saw that he was in uniform....combat fatigues....and I didn't care that this soldier was seeing me cry.

"I know how it hurts," he said.

How did he know? He didn't even know why I was hurting. But he did.

"I lost my best friend a month ago," he said.

He wasn't a priest so I felt no need to confess anything about my feelings for Jason, to explain the depth of my feelings. It went deeper than that anyway, beyond the sex we'd shared. The soldier was offering me compassion. After a few minutes though, I wanted to be alone.

When I began to regain my composure he asked, "Do you want to go have a beer or something?"

I shook my head. "I want to stay here for awhile," I said.

"Okay. I understand. I'll be at the Dragonfly. I'll be there for awhile." He went up to one of the grottos, lit a candle and knelt down. After a few moments he got up and left. He nodded as he walked past me and I wondered who or what he had prayed for.

I sat in the soft dimness, letting the grief engulf me. I didn't raise hell with the saint. I wasn't angry anymore. Jason would've frowned on it anyway. He would've been embarrassed with my grief. But it was my grief, not his. I sat numb for over a half hour, not even trying to grab onto any of the thoughts running through my head. I was just there, in a space with the heat of the candles warming it; there for no real purpose or need to be there and I didn't know why I was. I suppose I wanted to feel the warm embrace of an understanding being that would comfort me or make the awful truth go away. But I didn't feel it. All I felt was numb, and my own presence, very much alone, in an empty space. Finally, I crossed myself and stepped out of the pew. I still didn't look at the statue of the saint. I wasn't angry, but I thought he had a lot to answer for. I wondered if it was too late to meet up with the soldier.

I walked the few blocks to the Dragonfly. When I went in he saw me and waved me over and signaled to the waitress to bring me a beer.

"I'm glad you decided to come," he said.

"I just needed a little more time back there," I said.

"Jack Burnside," he said, putting out his hand.

"Brad Courter." I sat down.

"I know it fuckin' hurts, man," he said.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Because I just went through it. I've still got the pain in the pit of my stomach. It's going to be there for a long time. Guys say it never goes away. How'd it happen?" he asked.

"His plane went down."

"He was a pilot?"

"No, he was coming back from the states. He was a Navy SEAL. He had just re-enlisted then he went home to see his family. He was a sniper, for chrissakes, and he gets it in a damned plane crash."

�God, what a fuckin' waste," he said.

�He would have thought so," I said.

"Me and my best friend enlisted and came over here together," he said.

"How'd you get past it?"

"You don't. You deal with it," he said.

I teared up once and Jack actually reached over and put his hand on mine. I eased my hand back. �People are going to think something funny is going on," I said.

�Guess what. I don't give a fuck," he said. Then he reached over and grabbed both of my hands in a tight grip.

Sure enough, some wise ass walked by and said, �Why don't you faggots take your lover's quarrel outside."

Jack was on his feet in a flash and had the guy by the throat and threw him back across the table. He grabbed his balls with his other hand.

�Watch who you're calling a faggot, unless you want to eat your balls for chow," he growled angrily as he gave them a hard squeeze.

The guy yowled with pain as he thrashed and kicked to try to get out of Jack's grip, but Jack cut off his air with his hand around his neck. I jumped up and grabbed Jack's arm.

�Hey, it's okay. He didn't know."

Jack eased his grip around the guy's neck but as he brought him up off the table, he shoved his knees into his groin for good measure. �His buddy just bought the farm," Jack told him, shoving him away.

�Aww, fuck, I'm sorry," the guy moaned.

�It's okay, man," I said.

�Can I buy you a drink? I am such an ass. Please, let me buy you a drink," he begged.

I said okay and he went over to the bar and came back with two beers. �I'm sorry. I apologize, to both of you."

�Its okay," Jack said, sounding rather impatient.

We talked for over two hours and I felt better, and maybe he did too. Maybe Jack needed me as much as I needed him. We promised we would stay in touch; meet up at Toby's sometime. He said he had been to Toby's once but he heard it was a gay bar. I told him I'd heard the same thing but I had never seen anything out of place there and that seemed to satisfy him. At least he never suggested meeting someplace else.

I dug out the letter and went to Colonel Brown and requested leave to escort Jason back home.

"You knew Petty Officer Seaborn?" he asked as he looked over the letter.

"Yes, sir, very well."

"I'll see what I can do," he said.

Less than an hour later, he called me into his office. "Get your shit together, you're the escort," he said. "Your orders are being cut. I'm giving you some extra time so you can go see your family while you're there. You'll need to go over to his unit and pick up his personal stuff. Take one of the Jeeps."

"Yes, sir."

"And Courter, go through his stuff carefully, make sure his mother doesn't get something she shouldn't see," he said.

"Yes, sir."

I drove to his unit, showed the LT my orders and he had a young PFC show me to Jason's bunk and foot locker.

"You need anything, let me know," the PFC said. "You want some coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He came back with a cup of coffee.

"You need anything else, let me know." He came back a few minutes later with a form on a clipboard. "The LT says you need to list everything and sign for it," he said.

I began making the list, in detail; his shaving kit, shorts, socks, T-shirts, a few letters and pictures, a watch, a choker necklace, the presentation boxes containing his medals. It didn't surprise me that there wasn't anything in Jason's locker that his mother shouldn't see, except I confiscated four condoms. I doubted if they would be any great surprise to her but she didn't need to have those. I did list them on the inventory sheet, though. I even noted on the form who the letters were from and if there were any pictures in the envelopes. On the very bottom of his footlocker, tucked under a pair of athletic shorts and a well-worn jockstrap I found an envelope with the words, "In case of my death deliver to Cpl. Brad Courter at Intel."

I felt a chill holding the letter in my hand. It was a moment or two before I could bring myself to open it. A twenty dollar bill fell out.

Buddy,

I hate to put this burden on you, but you're the one I want to handle it. If you can't do it, I'll understand, but I'm asking you. I won't get sappy, but I want you to know that you've been the best buddy I ever had; like the brother I never had. I know, I've got a brother, but you're a lot more of a brother than he is. Don't bother trying to make my folks understand any of this. I don't expect them to. You do and that's what matters; that I and what I stood for are not forgotten. And I know you will make sure that what I stood for is honored. You know what I want; full military honors. And that's not just for me; I want it because it for the rest of the guys who are still fighting and dying over here. I want my death to mean something, Brad. It has to mean something, otherwise what the hell was it all for? I'm not sure mom or my dad will want the flag. If they don't, you take it. It does not go to my brother! He would probably burn it, and it would only mean more to their cause that it covered my casket. Being with you was great, in every way. You taught me a lot and you gave me a lot. I only wish I could have given back just a fraction of what you gave me but you knew I wasn't built that way. My GI insurance is made out to you since you're responsible for everything. After everything is paid for, give what's left to my parents. Take the twenty bucks and have a beer on me. Take what you want of my stuff. I would like for you to keep the medals and my discharge papers unless my dad and mom ask for them, which I'm sure they won't. There's another sheet attached to this letter that gives you full authorization to take care of everything, including the final arrangements. Didn't want to include it here because what I've said here is none of anybody else's business. It's been a hell of a ride, Marine, and I'm honored that you were there with me. Take care of yourself. Stay safe, and say hello to Toby for me. I love you, man. I know you told me that once but I never said it back. I did, though, and I'm saying it now.

Your buddy,

Jason

Tears were running down my face and I stayed knelt beside his footlocker for a moment to regain my composure. Then I inventoried the stuff on the shelf and the stuff hanging on the rack at the head of his bunk. It was mostly uniform shirts and pants. I found the PFC and told him I was finished and asked if he could get me a duffle bag to put everything in. I couldn't find Jason's duffle bag.

"Do you want to go through the stuff and verify my list?" I asked, handing him the clipboard.

"No. If he trusted you, I do," he replied and signed off on the sheet.

Back at the barracks I took out the medals and the condoms, along with a pair of his briefs, a Navy SEALs T-shirt, the choker necklace, two pictures that he was in, his athletic shorts and his tattered jockstrap; all things that meant more to me than they could ever mean to anyone else.

I went to see Toby just before time to leave. He got me a beer but I turned it down.

�I don't think I should be drinking," I said.

�It'll be waiting on you when you get back," he said. �When are you leaving?

�In about an hour."

�Much to my surprise, Toby came out from behind the bar and gave me a bear hug. Fuck, he felt good. His body was hard as a rock.

. �I'm sorry as hell," he said. �But keep it together."

�I will."

When I got back, my Jeep and driver were waiting to take me to the airport. The plane was full of flag-covered, military caskets. I asked one of the crew which one was Jason Seaborn.

�I couldn't tell you," he said

�Can you find out?"

�Hey, we just fly �'em home. Its up to the guy at the other end to sort �'em out."

I saw red. I jumped to my feet and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. �He was my best buddy! I wanta know who I'm sitting with! Find him!" I yelled in his face.

He reared back, surprised. �Disengage, Marine," he said calmly as he gently removed my hand from his shirt. That's when I noticed his rank. He was young but he had more stripes on his arm than I ever hoped to have, and I had laid hands on him.

�Sorry, sergeant," I mumbled, stepping back with my hands up. �Sorry." I turned and sat down with my head in my hands.

�Sit tight, Marine. I'll see if I can locate your buddy."

�It's okay. I shouldn't have been so crude. I should have known you were escorting somebody back. But we take so many of them back, If you let yourself think about it; that there's a GI in every one of those boxes....and you think about their families....well, sometimes it's easier to think of it as just another cargo flight."

The sergeant came back with the manifest and went up and down and between the rows of caskets, checking each one till he came to Jason's.

�Right here," he said, laying his hand on the casket.

I moved down and squeezed into a space not meant for passengers.

�I'll get you a blanket. It's going to get cold up there," he said.

He left and came back with a blanket.

�How come I'm the only escort on the plane?" I asked.

�The manifest says you requested it."

�Yeah, I did, but nobody else did, with all these?" I asked with a wave toward the caskets.

�Not everybody flies back with the body. They fly commercial. And a lot of times the escort is assigned stateside."

�I'm sorry I lit into you like that," I said.

�I'll get over it," he said.

We flew out of Saigon just after sunset on a bit C-130 and began island-hopping back to the states. I sat with Jason's casket the whole way; just sat there, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at the flag covered coffin. One of the crew came back with a cup of hot coffee.

�You doing all right?" he asked.

�Next time I'm requesting first class," I said.

We landed in San Diego for re-fueling. I hadn't given a thought to what it would feel like being back in the states again. The plane taxied to the edge of the field, to a hangar apparently reserved for receiving the bodies of dead GIs. A Marine honor guard was standing by, as well as a crew to unload. I was stunned when I got out of the plane to see a gathering of protestors just a few hundred yards away, on the other side of the fence. They were waving peace flags and yelling angry epitaphs. I stood and watched them for a moment, welling up with anger.

�Don't let �'em get to you. That's what they want," said one of the honor guard.

�Geezuss, how do you put up with that?" I asked.

�The scum bags meet every plane," he said.

�Hey, its what you're fighting for, their right to protest," said another Marine. �I just wish they would take a fuckin' bath once in awhile."

�Just give me a rifle or a hand grenade," I muttered. It frightened me that I meant it. I think I could've gunned them down. They were yelling things about my best buddy. The anger was about to burst out of me. I started of in their direction.

�Hey! Do not approach!"

I turned around to see the master sergeant from the plane.

�I'm fighting for their right to protest but I got no sat in the matter?"

�That's the way it is," he said.

�Of course, if you happen to meet up with one of them in a dark alley, that's another story," drawled one of the Marines.

Walking away was the hardest thing I had to do. I grabbed a bite to eat and hung around the lounge till time to fly out. The plane took off for Wright-Patterson in Dayton, Ohio, with six caskets aboard. There was some hassle over me staying with his body on that flight but I won out. I stayed with his body every leg of the journey, except in the hearse.

In Dayton, along with the waiting hearses, there was also a military sedan for me to drive. So I followed on the drive to his hometown, a small town called Dunnsport, between Dayton and Columbus. I showed the funeral director the letter but told him I wanted the family to be there to oversee the arrangements. I was there only to see that he had full military honors. He said he would call Jason's parents to make an appointment.

From the funeral home I found my way to Jason's parents' house. I was welcomed and treated with restrained respect. I thought they might be angry over their son's death and would have liked to take it out on me. The four of us, Jason's mom and

dad and his brother, Allen, went to make the arrangements.

Jason's brother was an ass from the get go. I offered him to ride with me to the funeral home, thought we might get to know each other. He looked at the military sedan, said no thanks, and got in the car with his parents.

"Does that make you feel proud?" he said, indicating my uniform as we were standing aside while the funeral director talked to his parents.

"Damned proud," I said, unflinching. "He was a good man and a fine soldier."

"Well, I guess this isn't the place," he said and let it go.

His parents accepted the fact that Jason had asked me to make his arrangements and they seemed okay with it, especially when they saw that I was depending on them to make most of the decisions. I wanted them there. His brother was another story. The casket was picked out and we were back in the office where the funeral director explained that he would acquire a flag and arrange for an honor guard and order a military marker. That's when Allen interrupted.

"Look we don't really want all the military honors, the uniforms, the guns," he said. "We would like to simply put my brother to rest in peace."

I looked at his parents but I couldn't tell whether they agreed with their son or not. I was hoping they didn't and would speak up. When they didn't say anything, I did.

�He wanted military honors," I said.

"I'm sorry, but I have a letter that the deceased wrote to Sgt. Courter stating his wishes and requesting him to be in charge of the arrangements," the director said, "even so far as to making him beneficiary of his life insurance."

"Well, now, that's interesting," Allen said.

"For your peace of mind, I've signed the insurance policy over to the funeral home," I said in as kindly a voice as I could muster. "He will return the unused portion to Mr. and Mrs. Seaborn." I would have been dubious about doing that but the couple obviously knew and trusted the man. I didn't mention the cash I'd kept out of Jason's personal stuff. I wasn't stealing it. He told me to have a beer on him, and that's what I had to do.

Allen glared at me. I looked at his parents again but got no clue what they were thinking. Finally, his mother spoke up.

"You know better than anyone what he would have wanted," she said to me.

"He made his wishes known," I said simply.

"There is the decision whether to have an open or closed casket," the funeral director said.

"Open," Mrs. Seaborn said, without hesitation.

"Open at the wake, but closed for the funeral," her husband put in. She patted his hand in agreement.

When the arrangements were made I started to excuse myself and leave the family alone.

"Where are you going?" Mr. Seaborn asked.

"I was going to get a room at the motel," I said.

"You'll do no such thing," Mrs. Seaborn said with indignation. "You can take Jason's room."

I was taken aback. �I.....don't think I should do that."

�He would be honored," she said.

It would have been impolite to argue so I went back to the house. Allen dropped his parents off and left. Mr. Seaborn was waiting on me and met my car in the driveway when I drove up.

"I'll get your bag," he said.

"No, that's all right, I'll get it." But I stopped in mid-motion when I saw the firm determined look on the man's face.

"The Marines didn't teach you to respect your elders? I said I'll get your bag."

"Yes, sir," I said and backed off.

I followed Mrs. Seaborn up the stairs with her husband behind me, carrying my bag. He set the bag down at the door and she showed me into Jason's room. The first thing to catch my eye when I walked in was the weights and the workout bench that took up about a fourth of the space.

"Make yourself at home. The room is just like Jason left it....he was just here, you know.....," she said. "We thought he would....." She stopped again, choking off her words. But then she quickly recovered. "We thought he would want to use it for a little while when he got back, before he went on with his life."

She seemed nervous about being in the room. I thanked her quietly but profusely, which seemed to give her permission to leave. It wasn't what I'd planned but I was grateful for her hospitality. When I was alone, I stood in the middle of the room and looked around. It was eerie; comforting and disturbing at the same time. The room seemed to wrap itself around me, as Jason had done so many times. It was easy to imagine him there; I could almost feel his presence. I tried to imagine the day he walked out of the room to become a Navy SEAL, expecting to return and find everything just as he'd left it; and when he did return, he would find that nothing was as he'd left it. I walked around the room taking in every detail. The bed that he'd slept in such a short time ago was still wrinkled where he'd sat on it, I suppose, to put his boots on. There was still a towel draped over the barbell from where he'd worked out last, I'm sure while he was home. There were several pictures of bodybuilders stuck to the wall. A football sat cocked against the pillow. A bulletin displayed some concert ticket stubs, a dried boutonniere, some old newspaper clippings from the sports page, several pictures of him and his teammates as well as pictures of him and various girls. There was a concert poster on the closet door. His clothes still hung in the closet, including his athletic jacket. It hung heavy with medals, and I wondered if he felt the same about his athletic honors as he did about his military medals....no big deal. Probably so.

Oddly, there was a GI Joe doll standing on his dresser, barefoot, with no shirt. I couldn't help noticing the striking resemblance. I would learn later in conversation with his parents that he had patterned himself after GI Joe.

Mrs. Seaborn called me down to supper.

"You take Jason's chair," she said, pointing to a chair at the opposite end of the table from her husband.

I felt uneasy about it but I didn't argue. Whether it was meant as a gesture of hospitality or honor to her son, these people were not to be argued with.

�I expect you call it dinner, but in Dunnsport, we call it supper," Mr. Seaborn said.

�I call it chow, all three meals a day," I said.

The three of us made casual and pleasant conversation during supper. I wondered but didn't ask where Allen was. I thought he should have been there to comfort his parents. He was, after all, the surviving son.

"You've probably gathered that Jason and Allen didn't see eye to eye on things," Mr. Seaborn said.

"Allen and Jason never saw eye to eye on anything," Mrs. Seaborn said, laughing softly. "Sometimes I wondered how they both ended up in the same house. You would think one of them was an orphan," she joked.

"Jason was very proud of his brother, being in law school," I said. I wanted them to know that.

"We were very proud of Jason," she said.

"He would be glad to know that," I said. I did my beset to steer the conversation away from matters of war and military and began asking about Jason when he was a little boy and a teenager in high school. They told me stories that made us laugh, and some that made Mrs. Seaborn tear up. It was a much more relaxed conversation. I offered to help with the dishes after supper.

"Oh, my, no," Mrs. Seaborn said, throwing up her hands. "The kitchen is my domain, I would never allow the men-folk in there."

"So you're saying Jason never had to do dishes?" I asked light-heartedly.

"He did plenty of other things. He was a hard worker at anything he did," she said.

So Mr. Seaborn and I got out of her way and retired to the living room. Surprisingly, he didn't turn on the television as I expected he would, if only as a focal point to ease the tension. Instead, he sat down, cocked one leg over the other and started talking.

"Tell me about my son," he said. "We never really knew him after he joined the Navy."

"I can sum it up in a few words. He was the best fighting man and the bravest man I ever met," I said.

He nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. He was never one to let a wrong go unnoticed and he never waited for somebody else to do something about it. If he saw it, or heard about it, he took care of it. Got himself into a few scrapes that way."

�He was never one to shy away from a scrape," I said.

�Got into a few fights, did he?" he said with a chuckle. He nodded thoughtfully, as if he were remembering something. �There was a young punk kid who rode his bike through the neighborhood.....didn't live around here.....and he would make vulgar remarks about the girl who lived next door. She wasn't such a pretty thing, but she didn't deserve that. Jason beat the tar out of him. He must've been no more than ten or eleven. We never saw hide nor hair of the kid after that."

�That doesn't surprise me," I said, and I related the story of how Jason and I had taken down the four GIs in an alley in Saigon.

I tried to walk a fine line, talking about Jason, without getting into details about what he did. I wanted to offer his medals but Jason had been specific that they should ask for them.

"Tell me about my son," the man said again, this time with a firmness in his voice that wasn't to be ignored, a tone that demanded answers to questions unasked.

I dropped my head like a little boy being chewed out. "He was a Navy SEAL, you knew that," I said, looking back up at him.

"What do Navy SEALs do exactly?" he asked.

"I'm a Marine so I don't know exactly, only that they're the most highly trained and the toughest fighting force in the world."

�I thought the Marines held that distinction," he said.

�We do, publicly," I said. The SEALs shy away from any kind of publicity."

�Well, I guess that explains why we were never able to get much of anything out of him."

�Understand, he wasn't allowed to divulge much of what he did," I said. �And the rest...well, they just don't talk about it."

He sat quietly, looking at me, his eyes unwavering, as if he were waiting on me to continue. I was about to tell him that his son was a sniper but just then Mrs. Seaborn came in from the kitchen to join us. I was glad for her presence. She turned the conversation to Jason's boyhood again and that was much easier for all of us to talk about, although I got the impression that her husband wanted to know more about his military. It got late and the conversation waned and I excused myself to go up to bed.

"Let me know if there's anything you need," Mrs. Seaborn said.

I undressed and hung up my uniform, trying to imagine Jason there with me; like two high school boys. After I showered, something compelled me to dig out his jockstrap. I stood naked in front of his workout mirror and pulled it on. For that brief moment, I was Jason, stuffing my manhood inside his worn jockstrap. I was Jason stretching out on the workout bench to do some bench presses. I quickly came back to the reality that I wasn't Jason when I couldn't push the barbell up off the rack. I didn't bother the plates on the bar. I left them the way he left them. I was awash with emotion as I got in his bed, still wearing the badly tattered jockstrap. It looked like somebody had been chewing on it. I tucked his football in my arm me and cried.

The next morning, Mr. Seaborn came in to wake me. I noticed that he was careful to stand back from the bed; never touched me.

�The Missus is starting breakfast."

�Thank you," I said, stretching languidly. Surprisingly, I'd gotten a good night's sleep. I was a little embarrassed when the football tumbled out of the bed.

�Jason used to sleep with his hand wrapped around that football," the man said.

�Yes, it was here, on the bed, I didn't think I should move it," I said.

He looked all around the room. �I suppose she'll turn the room into a shrine for awhile," he said, rather absently.

�I can understand that," I said.

�Well, come on, son. We didn't have a chance to finish our conversation last night, so if you don't mind, I'm going to pester you while you shave and get dressed."

�I don't mind, no, sir," I said. I kicked the sheet off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Again, I was embarrassed to be wearing Jason's old, ragged jockstrap. I saw that he noticed but he didn't say anything. I wondered if he knew it was Jason's. He probably did. It was probably the same jock Jason had worn all through high school, from the looks of it; maybe even in grade school. I was long accustomed to being naked around other men, but it was different, the man being Jason's father. But he was waiting. I dug out a pair of shorts and changed into them.

Mr. Seaborn stood in the doorway of the bathroom and watched me shave.

�Used to stand here and watch Jason shave," he said. �It was the only time we had to talk. Stood here and talked to him when he was home the last time, while he was shaving."

I wondered if he was trying to picture me as his son. �I don't mind, sir," I said again.

He delved into the war; what it was like being in Vietnam, and the people. He asked me what I thought about the protestors.

�I don't like �'em much," I said.

�As far as I'm concerned, they need to all be rounded up and sent over there," he said flatly.

It surprised me that he was including his other son in that statement.

He glanced down for a moment then looked up at me; a penetrating look that made me turn my head toward him. The look in his eyes sent a chill down my spine.

�I don't know how or what to ask, but there's a lot you're not telling me," he said, his look unwavering.

�I don't know what you mean, sir," I said.

�You don't have to call me sir."

�If you don't mind, sir, I do," I said.

�All right," he said, nodding.

He waited.

�I wasn't in his outfit, I don't know everything he did on a day to day basis," I offered. It wasn't totally a lie.

�You know more than you're telling me," he said.

�He was shot in the shoulder by a VC sniper," I said. �He laughed about that; said the guy was a lousy shot." I felt guilty telling things that Jason would not have wanted me tell. But he wasn't the one standing there facing his father. And I thought the man had a right to know. �He was a POW for awhile; but he escaped," I went on. �He got mangled up pretty bad in a vehicle accident."

�I noticed some scars when he was home. Were they from the accident or was he tortured?" he asked bluntly.

�I honestly don't know," I said.

Again, he waited. There was only one more thing but I was reluctant to tell him. Maybe it was against regulations. But the colonel had told Jason the mission didn't happen.

�He was a sniper," I said, finally.

�Was he good at it?"

�Yes, sir, the best. He was an expert rifleman." I wanted to tell him that his son had assassinated, the president of Vietnam, but of course I didn't. I wanted to say, �'And the man fucked my brains out every chance he got,' but of course, I couldn't.

�We won't talk about these things to his mother," he said.

�Yes, sir."

I was surprised when Mr. Seaborn went to work. She said it was his way of coping. I sat and drank coffee with Mrs. Seaborn at her breakfast table for a while and listened to her tell stories about Jason as a boy growing up. I still wondered where Allen was. As a way of excusing myself, I told her I needed to gas up the car. I needed gas but I wanted to be alone in Jason's surroundings. I drove downtown, parked and walked around, trying to absorb what Jason felt when he was a teenager. I went in and out of a couple of stores; a clothing store and a sporting goods store and it was easy to see him there. Dressed in civies, it was easy to blend in. I drove up to the school and walked out on the football field. I felt his presence everywhere I went.

"Can I help you, mister?"

I turned to see a burly youth walking toward me. He was younger than me by a couple of years.

"I was just looking around," I said.

"You're the escort for Jason Seaborn," he said.

"Yes. I just wanted to see where he played."

"Would you like to see the locker room?"

"Yes, I would."

We walked across the field to the school, the boy chattering about Jason's athletic prowess.

"He was ahead of me in school," he said. "Everybody looked up to him. Especially the freshmen and sophomores. He was a great athlete." He chuckled softly. "The guy was a stud, actually. Everybody wanted to be like him."

He led the way into the locker room and showed me Jason's locker. It still had his name on the door.

"Another guy, Patterson, was using the locker but he never took Seaborn's name off the door; he put his name below Seaaborn's name and he left his helmet and jersey right where Jason left it," he said as he opened the door. "When we heard he was killed, Patterson moved his stuff out and ripped his own name off the door. It's Seaborn's locker now and that's the way it'll stay."

With little imagination, I could picture Jason there in the locker room, naked, dripping wet from his shower, laughing and joking and cavorting around with his teammates, and I was envious of them. I was overwhelmed by the boy's near hero-worship. Jason would have been impressed, too, if a little embarrassed. The way the boy went on talking about him, it was obvious that Jason had attained legendary stud status in his old school. I thanked the youth for his time and the tour.

"I'll see you at the wake," he said.

I ate lunch at a small café then walked and drove around for awhile then went back to the house to change into my dress uniform for the wake. The honor guard arrived at the funeral home; a seven-man contingent of Marines in full dress from Columbus. I supposed that was okay with Jason, that they were Marines instead of Navy. I took my place at the end of the casket, standing at attention, back out of the way from his parents. One of Marines positioned himself at attention at the other end. The rest stationed themselves around the room, standing at parade rest.

I had a hard time not looking at Jason lying n the casket. He looked so damned handsome in his uniform, his chest covered with ribbons, and I was so damned proud of him. It pissed me off how many people ignored us in uniform, and saddened that the anti-war mentality had permeated even this small community. I spoke or acknowledged people only if they spoke to me first. I wondered where his brother was. Maybe he wouldn't show.

I was appalled and really pissed when he showed up wearing his black armband. He was with four other guys, all wearing armbands, with two girls who had black ribbons in their hair. I began to seethe in side. I couldn't stop them all but there was no way I was going to let Allen walk up to Jason's casket wearing his black armband. I motioned for one of the Marines to take my place at the casket and I went to meet the "protestors" before they could move into the room. I motioned his brother into the small ante-room next to the office.

"Give me the armband," I said.

"We're all wearing them."

"Those other cowards can do whatever they want. You're his brother."

"Who the hell do you think you are to order me around? I have the right to express my feelings in any way I wish."

"Yeah, he fought for that right, but you're not going to do it here," I snapped in calm anger. "You know, Jason told me he was proud of you and he understood why you couldn't be proud of him. Well, I don't understand and I'm not even going to try. This isn't about you or your asshole cowardly friends. This is a military service to honor the bravest man I ever knew. Now give me the arm band, or I'll take it off of you."

"You wouldn't dare," he said, laughing nervously.

"Watch me," I said in a low, even tone. "It will not be pleasant," I added.

He hesitated then took off the armband.

"Wise choice," I said as I stuffed it in my pocket. "You can have it back after the wake," I said.

"Fuck you. There're plenty more where that came from."

"Don't show up wearing one at the funeral tomorrow," I warned. �And tell your friends."

"I don't know why my brother put you in charge of the arrangements in the first place," he growled.

"I think I'm looking at why," I said. "He didn't trust you. And obviously with good reason."

I took my place at the head of the casket again. Allen came through the line with his friends like other mourners, not as his brother. I considered it an insult. He paused at the casket with a look of sad contempt. I wanted to smash his face in.

It was apparent that Jason had impacted a lot of lives in one way or another. It didn't surprise me that a lot of girls were at the wake; a lot of very sad, emotional girls crying on each other's shoulders or with their heads buried in their boyfriends chests. In my perverted grief, I wondered which or how many of them had lain under his muscular athlete's body and known the awesome pleasure of his manhood inside them. There were a lot of his high school buddies there, too, looking even more studly with tears running unashamedly down their faces. What did surprise me were the younger kids, some barely in their teens, who I'm sure Jason never knew. You were a hero, I thought; more than you know.

At one point Mrs. Seaborn took two young men up to the casket and she turned to me and asked what all the medals were for. "The boys want to know, and I would like to know, too," she said.

I approached the casket with her, and her husband joined us. "I can explain them, then they are all listed on his discharge papers," I said. Then I went on to explain the ribbons. "That is the Expert Rifleman Medal, that one is the Good Conduct Medal, that's the Purple Heart, Bronze Star, Silver Star," I said, pointing to each one. "That one is the Republic of Viet Nam Gallantry Cross, the Distinguished Pistol Shot, Distinguished Marksman, Republic of Viet Nam Campaign Medal, the Viet Nam Service Medal, that's the POW Medal, Combat Action Medal, Navy/Marine Achievement Medal, Overseas Service Ribbon and the Navy/Marine Commendation Medal."

"Wow!" one of the boys said.

"He was a real Marine," the other said.

�He was Navy. A Navy SEAL," I said.

"My goodness, we had no idea," Mrs. Seaborne whispered. She looked at her husband. "We didn't know he was a POW. He never wrote us about that."

Mr. Seaborn ave me a wary look and I said nothing. "He was captured but was held for only a short time. He said he was treated okay," I lied.

"Thank God for that!"

"Well, you can thank him partly, he escaped," I said with a kind smile.

"He never wrote us much, period," Mr. Seaborne said.

"He wasn't much to talk about what he did," I said. "For him it was just another day at the office."

I don't know how long the line was to get into the funeral home but it was without interruption the whole four hours. We pulled up chairs for his parents. When everyone had left, the funeral director excused the honor guard and gave Mr. and Mrs. Seaborne some time at the casket. Allen stood with them for a moment then left; his friends were waiting. Mrs. Seaborn put her hand out to me and pulled me in close to the casket. She squeezed my hand and sobbed quietly.

"He was so young," she whispered, patting his hand. "He was only seventeen when he went in. We should've never signed the papers."

"He wouldn't want to hear you say that," I said, putting my arm around her frail shoulders.

The two moved back and left me at the casket alone. I stood with my hands clasped over the edge of the casket, fighting back more emotions than I thought I could handle. These were the last moments I would ever see him. I closed my eyes and it was if I had died; our entire time together passed before me. I could almost feel his hard muscles rippling against me, his hot breath and rough beard on my neck, his massive cock invading my body. Godd, let this not be true! Let it be a dream that I can wake up from! But it wasn't. When I opened my eyes I saw the awful truth of him lying there in his uniform, and his hand was cold to the touch. My shoulders slumped and I broke down in sobs.

I felt a gentle hand on my arm and a firmer hand on my shoulder. His parents were comforting me. Again, I mouthed the words, �'I Love You' as I had when he walked away the last night I saw him.

Again, after the wake, Allen didn't show up at his parents' house. I didn't ask why, or where he was. For me it was better that he wasn't there but I thought it showed great disrespect for his parents. We sat on the front porch for a short while and I listened to them relating stories about various people who had come to the wake, and how many people were there and how wonderful the Marines looked. Nothing was said about their other son. I was tired and I ached inside and I excused myself to go upstairs to bed. I was more at ease my second night in Jason's room. I felt like I belonged there.

It was the biggest funeral I ever attended. They held it at the school gymnasium because the funeral home was too small. Wisely, Allen didn't show up wearing his armband. Two of his friends weren't so considerate. Two of the Marine honor guard took taken up positions at the casket and I was seated with Mrs. And Mrs. Seaborn, at their invitation. The priest gave a good sermon. He obviously knew Jason as a boy and he made it personal. He even made us laugh. He went on to extol Jason's bravery and patriotism. I sat with my eyes fixed on the flag-draped coffin, trying to picture him inside. I was so uptight with emotion I felt like I might explode or burst out in sobs. But I had vowed that wouldn't happen. Afterwards the priest invited others to the podium to speak. Several did. His high school football coach. A teacher. Two female classmates, and there was no doubt in mind from the way she spoke of him that that she'd had the pleasure of his manhood. His former boss where he'd worked at a lumberyard. Several of his former teammates who made us laugh and cry. She patted my arm and asked me if I would like to say something, but I declined. I could not say what I felt for the man. At the end of the service the Marines took their positions as pallbearers and I followed the casket out to the hearse. Again, I was asked to ride in the limo with Jason's parents.

The procession from the gym to the cemetery was so long that they had the local police and the sheriff's department directing traffic and parking in the little country cemetery. Looking back, I saw no end to it. Allen looked angrier than sad standing behind his parents at the grave. I was having a tough time keeping my composure. I almost lost it, as much from rage as from grief or sadness. When the firing squad fired the twenty-one-gun salute, the two peaceniks actually turned their backs to the casket when the salute was fired. It was all I could do to hold my rage in check. It was not the time or place to vent it. I could see the anger on the faces of the other Marines. Allen actually glared when the flag was presented to his mother. She took it warmly and held it to her breast. Her husband put his hand over her hands on the flag.

The guys who had turned their backs walked away as the flag was being presented. I was getting more pissed by the minute. I waited for the priest to say his final words extend the invitation on behalf of the family for everyone to go back to the church to eat, with a special invitation the military contingent, then I stepped back and followed the protestor walking across the cemetery.

"Hey, scum-bags," I called quietly.

They stopped and turned around with a surprised look.

"Hold up, assholes," I said. We were far enough away from the gravesite that no one could hear me. I half expected them to run away. I don't know if it was defiance or fear that kept them from it.

"The man in that casket won you the right to wear that Goddamned arm-band," I said. "The least you could do is honor that service and show some respect for his parents."

"We're only trying to stop more of them from coming home in a casket," one of them said angrily.

"That arm band is going to stop the war?" I scoffed.

"This wasn't the time or the place for it," someone said from behind.

I glanced around and there were four of the Marines.

"Wherever we can be heard is the time and place for it," the other young man said.

"If this wasn't a cemetery, I would tromp your sorry, cowardly asses in the ground," one of the other Marines said.

"I'll bet you're good at it. I'll bet you're all good at it," the youth said with contempt.

"I'm damned good at it," one said. "I just wish I could show you how good I am."

I intervened before things could get out of hand. "Guys we need to keep this dignified," I said. "You're making a scene. Go back with your unit."

Grudgingly, they walked away.

"I suppose you expect us to thank you for saving our asses," the youth said.

"No, you don't thank me for a damned thing," I snapped. "You owe your thanks to the guy in the casket. I just want to say, I hope you don't live around here, because if you do....well, you see, I'll be here for a couple more days....if you see me, run. Run like hell, otherwise, they're going to be gathering up body parts."

I think I made my point. The littlest one blanched, while the other looked defiantly angry. I didn't wait for their response. I walked off, leaving them standing there looking pale as a ghost and went back to the gravesite. The Marines hadn't gone far.

"We thought we would hang back and see if you needed us for anything," one of them said.

"No, it's taken care of all it can be," I said. "Are you guys going to the funeral dinner?"

"We were waiting to see if you are."

"Yes. I think his parents would be honored," I said.

"Then we'll all go."

"Just keep your cool," I warned.

"We will, Sarge. Do you want to ride with us?"

I saw Allen was walking with his parents to the limo so I told them yes. The workers stood back a respectable distance and waited, as if they were waiting for me to leave.

"We're waiting for you to give the okay, Sergeant," one of them said.

�Hold up for a minute," I said.

I went to tell Mr. and Mrs. Seaborn that I would be riding with the honor guard back to the church. I waited till the limo had pulled out of the cemetery then told the workers they could finish their work. I stood at attention and saluted as the casket was lowered into the ground. When it sank out of sight into the gaping maw of the grave and I dropped my salute, I saw the men of the honor guard dropping their salutes as well. I walked away toward the SUV without looking back.

We didn't mingle at the dinner, but stood aside, being inconspicuous as possible in full dress blues. I was surprised how many of the younger people our own age avoided us while the older people came up to us with their gratitude and respect. One exception was the young athlete I'd met at the football field. He came right up to me with his hand out.

"Dammed impressive service," he said.

"Yes, it was."

"He would've had to be proud of that."

"No more than I was proud of him," I said.

"Too bad his brother is such an asshole," he said.

"Jason didn't hold that against him."

"If I ever join the military....and I expect I will....Jason and guys like you and him will be the reason," he said.

"Thank you, for both of us, and the Marines would be proud to have you." I looked him up and down, openly. "And I don't think you would have any trouble handling the Marines."

I and the other military excused ourselves early from the gathering at the church. Mrs. Seaborn thanked each one of them and hugged and thanked me for bringing her boy home. Mr. Seaborn was able only to shake my hand. I was surprised that Allen had the decency to come over to me as I was walking to the door where the honor guard was still waiting. I don't think they trusted me to stay back by myself.

"Despite our differences, I thank you for seeing my brother home," he said.

"I did it for him," I said coolly.

"I see how much you hate me, but some day soon, you'll see that we were right."

"You know what? I would rather come back like my buddy back there than to ever see the day you are right," I said. "Just one more thing. The flag that draped his casket; if it were ever to disappear and catch on fire....as long as it takes, I will hunt you down, along with every one of your asshole friends, I will cut your balls off....if I can find any....and I will feed them to you. I hope you hear me, mister, because a Marine does not make idle threats."

He cocked his head back in surprise then quickly turned and walked away.

The honor guard took me back to the house where my car was. I decided I wasn't staying. Alone in the house I suddenly did not want to be there a moment longer than I had to. It was over and it was suddenly too painful and I didn't think I would feel Jason's presence there anymore. I changed out of my dress blues. When I was finishing packing my stuff I happened to see Jason's jockstrap in the bag. I shed my shorts and put the jock on. It would feel good on the drive back to Dayton. I left a note, thanking the Seaborns for their hospitality and for their son.

I drove back to the cemetery to say goodbye before I left town. As I was standing at the grave letting my thoughts ramble at will, another car drove up. It was Allen. I cringed inside. Shit, couldn't he give it a rest? But then I saw him carrying something on a hanger. It was Jason's athletic jacket.

"I expected I would find you here. Mom and Dad want you to have this," he said.

I took the hanger. It was heavy. I couldn't say anything for a minute.

"You don't have to say anything," Allen said.

"No....." I stopped him before he could walk away. "Thanks. And thank your parents for me."

He nodded and walked away. Somehow, I hated that there might be a thread of decency in him. Another car had driven up and two burly young men got out and came over to the grave. I'd seen them at the funeral but they weren't in suits now. One wore a school athletic jacket. The other one looked like he should've been wearing one. We nodded and spoke; we all felt uneasy.

"You were his buddy," one of them said.

"I still am," I said. "I'm guessing you were team mates."

"Yeah," he said, eyeing the jacket.

"His brother brought me his jacket," I said, holding it up.

"He had more awards than I did," the one guy said, laughing.

"He had more awards than anybody," the other one put in.

The other one nodded. I could tell he was having a tough time being there.

�Bill Townsend," one of them said, putting out his hand.

�Jeremy Cole."

�Brad Courter," I said.

�Sergeant Courter, if I know my rank," Jeremy said.

�What's a stripe or two," I joked.

"He was a hell of an athlete," Bill said.

"He was a hell of a man," I said.

"You would know that better than anyone," he said.

"No, I think you did too. The Navy didn't make him a man; that started back here," I said.

"I wish we knew more about him, as a Navy SEAL," Bill went on. �But none of us were much on writing letters, even though we said we would. And the few times we did see him, he didn't seem to want to talk about it."

"He was never much on talking about it," I said. "Just know that he was the bravest guy I ever met."

It was awkward for all of us. If we'd been in a bar, I thought, we could've talked more easily over a few beers.

"Listen, in his last wishes, Jason told me to have a beer on him. Do you guys want to join me?"

"We couldn't get served," Bill said.

I swore under my breath as I realized that I couldn't either, and neither could Jason. It angered me that he was old enough to be laying in the grave but not old enough to walk in and have a beer in his own hometown.

"I guess I can't get served either back here," I said.

"They would probably serve you, being in uniform," said Jeremy.

"Yeah, you could get a six pack and we could drink it right here," Bill put in.

It was a good idea. We drove downtown to a bar they showed me and I went in. All eyes turned on me as I walked up to the bar. I told the bartender what I wanted.

"We're not a package liquor store, I can't sell you a six pack to walk out with it," he said.

"I'm not old enough to get served either," I said cockily but I didn't move. I stood my ground, letting him know that I intended to walk out with a six pack.

"Fuck it," he said as he got an empty carton from under the bar. "You brought Jason Seaborn home, didn't you?" he asked as he filled the carton with six cold beers.

"Yeah."

"This is on the house," he said as he set the six pack on the bar.

"No, he told me to have a drink on him; he left the money, I have to pay for it."

"Okay, give me a buck."

"Fair enough."

Me and the two boys drove back to the cemetery. We sat at the head of Jason's grave, heaped with flowers now, and popped our beer cans. It felt good to be with the two athletes who knew Jason as well as I did but from a different time and in a different way. We were quiet at first, most of the way through the first round of beers. Then Bill started talking and Jeremy joined in. They told one story after another about their escapades with Jason and soon had us all laughing. I told some stories about me and Jason and answered their questions. I even told them he was a sniper when they asked what he did in the Navy.

"No shit! Dam, he always did have balls," Jeremy said.

"More balls than anybody I knew," I said.

"Fuckin' nerves of steel," Bill put in.

"And a stud," Jeremy added. "I think he fucked every girl in the county who wanted to be fucked."

"Shit, he fucked one of their mothers," Bill said, laughing. Then his tone changed again. "Did he, uh....take many of them out over there?"

I knew he wasn't talking about girls.

"I believe he did but I don't know how many. He would never say," I said. "He was an expert. I don't think he ever had a miss. I could tell you one big target he took out but you wouldn't believe it."

"We would believe anything about Jason," Jeremy said.

"Yeah, tell us."

"He took out Dhin," I said.

�No shit! Really?!" Jeremy exclaimed.

Bill didn't seem to know who Dhin was. "He was the president of Viet Nam for awhile," Jeremy told him.

"He took out the fuckin' president of Viet Nam!?" Bill blurted in disbelief. Then he broke out laughing. "That is the damndest thing I ever heard. Who would have thought...fuck, I can hear it now, at graduation....And the most likely to take out the president of Viet Nam is....Jason Seaborn."

"Is this being disrespectful or what?" Jeremy said.

"Hey, we're not pissing on his grave," Bill said.

"Is it being disrespectful?" Jeremy asked me, in a more serious tone.

"No," I said. "He would be sitting right here with us if he could."

"Yeah, he's smiling and shaking his head and saying, what a bunch of dumb fucks," Bill said as he popped his second beer. His voice choked and I saw his eyes tear up. He popped a beer and handed it to me but I didn't drink it. I took one hard slug then set the can on Jason's grave. The two boys did the same.

"I'll bet he tore through the woman in Vietnam," Jeremy said.

"Yeah, he was the horniest fucker I ever saw," Bill put in.

"He did his share of damage," I said. "He was the only guy I knew who never had to pay a prostitute."

"They gave it away, huh?" Bill said, laughing.

"To him," I said.

"Shit, he should've been charging them," Bill said. "Dam, he was hung." He looked at Jeremy. "Remember how he was hung?"

"Who could forget that? Hell, we didn't know if we were in a locker room or a horse stable," Jeremy said. "God, I'll bet he tore up some pussy with that thing."

�Hey, do you remember that old jockstrap he always wore?" Bill said, laughing.

�Yeah, he wore the thing all through high school," Jeremy said. �It was the only one he owned. Four fuckin' years, he wore the same jockstrap. By the end of his senior year, it looked like the mice had been chewing on it."

�It wasn't mice, it was the cheerleaders," Bill said.

I laughed. What would they think if they knew I was wearing that jockstrap? The conversation with the two big hunks was turning me on. I was surprised and impressed that they were talking so intimately about Jason and I got the impression that Jeremy, especially, was getting his own personal charge out of the tone of the conversation. I had a hard time believing that there had ever been anything between Jason and either one of the boys, but then no one would ever believe what Jason and I had. I had the fleeting thought of trying to get something started with one or both of them but if they didn't go for it....well, finding out that Jason's best buddy was gay....it would've somehow degraded his memory.

Jeremy laid over with one leg slung out and his other knee cocked up and leaned up to retrieve his beer from the grave. �One more drink and the rest is yours, buddy," he said. He took a hard slug then poured the rest into the flowers on the grave. It seemed a good thing to do, and Bill and I followed suit. One by one, we crushed the cans into little pieces and tossed them in with the flowers.

Bill and I stood up. The beer was gone, the cans were crushed, it was time to go. Jeremy lay for a moment, staring at the flowers that heaped the grave, then stood up, brushing off his pants. There was an awkward moment, like it often is with guys who don't know how to say goodbye, till I put out my hand.

�It's been great meeting you guys," I said.

�Yeah, same here."

�You, too."

The awkward moment lingered and a little part of me wanted to stick around for another day to see if I might get something going with one or both of the young studs. But I wouldn't know how. I couldn't resist, though, as I was getting into the car, telling them my little secret.

�Hey, guys," I called out.

They stopped and turned around.

�You know that old ragged jockstrap you were talking about?"

�Yeah, what about it?" Jeremy asked.

�I've got it on."

They were too surprised to say anything for a moment, then Bill gave me a thumbs up. Jeremy just smiled, nodding his approval. Dammit, I thought, l maybe I should stay back. The jockstrap was a perfect opening. But in my mind, I was already on my way.

I headed back to Dayton to catch a plane. No, I didn't go visit my family. It was an eight-hour drive and I didn't want to go. There was just no reason to. I felt guilty but I didn't want to see them. I didn't know how I would explain it to Mom and Dad if they found out but God help me, I wanted to get back to Viet Nam where I belonged; where I could be with Jason's memory. I was in a muddled daze the whole trip back, trying to turn it all around in my mind, wrestling with the reality of it all, and confused that I felt like I was going home.

When I arrived back in country, the first thing I did was go to Toby's. As usual, he had my beer on the counter before I got to the bar.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Very impressive, but I never want to do that again."

"How'd his parents take it?"

"It's hard to say. I think they were numb the whole time. His brother, on the other hand....."

"I didn't know he had a brother," Toby said.

"I didn't either till just before Jason left to go home," I said. "The guy was a first-class prick and a certified asshole all rolled into one. He and some of his friends wore black armbands to the wake."

"No shit!"

"Well, the brother didn't. I asked him not to and he took his armband off and gave it to me."

Toby laughed. "Yeah, I'll bet it was real easy to convince him," he said.

I sipped my beer and Toby watched me. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Don't even go there right now," I said.

"Okay."

"I can't handle it yet," I said. "I don't know if I ever will." I quickly washed down the choked sob in my throat. In my mind I had gone where I'd told Toby not to go.

"Listen, I don't want to intrude on your thoughts or your life, but....well, if you ever want to be with someone who knew him, to talk or....anything....I'm here."

His meaning soaked in and I nodded with a forced smile. "Thanks."

I gradually got back into the swing of things. In the natural scheme of things the body makes its own demands, for nourishment, sleep, even sexual gratification....and in time they take priority over emotions. My sexual urges weren't long in making themselves known and the need began to build up. I went to Toby's a few times but never made any contact. I didn't really go there for that reason but I figured if it happened..... Then there was always Toby's standing offer.

Back in the barracks I began to take note of a couple of the guys I'd been living with for all those months. One especially....Tom McCord, who had a drop-dead sexy butt that he didn't mind showing off. His entire body was something to show off. He never wore a towel in the latrine. The other guy, Randy Jones, it was his cock that drew my attention. He was legendary hung; thick, veiny, long, with a generous collar. I often wondered if he was as big as Jason.

I dreamed up one scenario after another. The one that I dwelled on the most was of me eating Tom's tight, round ass while the Randy fucked me. I was afraid to make a move on either of them, though. I knew I was in great and dire need for sexual satisfaction when I awoke from a dream about Jason and realized I'd had a wet dream! I had to laugh, and knew Jason was up there laughing with me; or at me. I was covered with come. Shit, I hadn't done that since I was a kid. I woke up just as it was coming to an end, the stuff was till warm and lying in the thick globes and ropes. There was nothing handy to clean it off. I quickly smeared it all over my abs so it wouldn't run down then headed for the shower. A few minutes later, Tom came into the latrine. It was early for anyone to be up. I had a reason but I wondered what his was. He took a piss then stepped into the shower, three down from me.

"What're you doing up so early?" I asked.

"I couldn't sleep."

Great, if he was awake, I wondered how much he'd seen of my little fiasco.

"That must have been one hell of a dream," he said with a sly grin.

I flushed with embarrassment and tilted my face up into the shower to wash it away.

"I haven't done that since I was a kid," I said.

"It was a fuckin' whitewash," Tom said.

"I wonder who else saw."

"Anybody who was awake. It was pretty hard not to notice," he said. "Having wet dreams; that means only one thing, you know."

"What's that?"

"You're damned hard up."

"I guess so," I agreed.

"I've noticed you don't go out much since your buddy got it," he said.

�Its not the same. Everywhere I go, I'm expecting him to be there, and he's not. You get to know somebody and get close to a guy like I was him, and you expect he's always going to be there."

�It's been a tough time for you. Do you want to go have beer sometime?"

"Sure," I said. "Do you know Toby's?"

"Yeah. I know the place but I usually hang out at the Dragonfly. The girls are prettier there....If that matters to you," he added.

I looked at him and he was looking right at me and in that moment I think we had a private understanding. I had only to decide whether to be leery and act ignorant or trust him and jump on it. I chose the latter.

"Maybe it doesn't, now," I said.

"Besides, I've heard too much about Toby's," he said, his eyes unwavering.

"Me too, but I've never seen anything out of line there," I said.

"I hear they watch the place. And there's just as much going on at the Dragonfly," he said.

"Yeah, I've met some sharp girls there," I said.

"I thought pretty girls didn't matter to you," he said.

"Sometimes they do." I was a little uneasy yet heady with the way the conversation was going and for the first time I was thinking about sex with another guy without feeling guilty about it. I couldn't believe I'd gone so long.

"I've noticed you noticing my butt," Tom said.

I was taken aback but tried not to show it. "You've got a mighty fine butt," I said casually.

"Interested?" he asked.

"Are you offering it?"

"It's all yours."

I couldn't believe it! It was there all the time, right under my nose; this stud's fine, hard ass was mine for the taking. "Where do you go?" I asked.

"To a little place that passes as a hotel, out on the edge of town. It's almost in the country. Six rooms. A lot of guys go there."

"And nobody watches the place with guys going in and out?"

"A lot of them bring girls. Those that don't, there are two daughters that serve as a good front."

We picked up passes and headed out together. There was a sense of relief in not going to Toby's for a change. A sense of freedom, like I was breaking away from the pain that haunted me day and night. Somehow I knew Jason wouldn't mind that I was doing this. It would be what he expected me to do. It was what he would do. I thought about Steve....we'd both had him.

We took a cab but Tom told the cabbie to pull over while we were still well in town and we walked the rest of the way. The place was small and rickety. I wondered how they had six rooms. I found out. Tom paid a woman some money and she gave him a six pack of beer. He led the way upstairs to a room no bigger than our combined space in the barracks. We walked right in, without benefit of a key.

"No keys?" I asked.

"Naw, they don't mess with locks."

"That means anybody could walk in?" I asked.

"If that bothers you, you have to put a chair against the door, but most people don't care one way or the other," he said.

�That could be risky if they start watching the place," I said.

There was a cot against the wall and a chair and table with a bucket of water and a metal wash basin and some towels.

"It's not much," Tom said as he pulled his shirt off. "That's the reason they don't watch the place.

"I don't think I'm going to mind," I said, eyeing his muscular upper body quite openly.

Tom was naked first. He laid out across the cot on his stomach, his legs cocked apart with his butt turned up so inviting it made my mouth water. In that moment I became Jason...I was going to do the fucking....and the guy on the bed was me. Except that I crawled between the guy's legs and buried my face in his butt. Jason would've never done that.

Chapter IX

I finished my tour in country and extended for six more months. Don't ask me why. It was just something I had to do. The job wasn't done and maybe I thought I could make a difference in six more months. Maybe I wanted to honor my buddy by serving part of his re-enlistment that he never got to. Whatever the reason, I didn't want to go home, and I didn't, not even for the leave time I had upon extending. I went to Hawaii instead. It was nice and I met some really hot, horny guys, but like always, everywhere I went I expected to see Jason there. I missed him so much it hurt. The trip to Hawaii was mostly about rampant sex. When I got back in country I was ready to be there.

Jason's death took something out of me. The hate. I didn't hate the VC like I did before. They were still the enemy and I remained diligent in my job of getting information out of them but the intense hate was gone. Maybe it was because it wasn't the VC who had killed him.

One day I came across the roll of film I'd used up taking pictures of Jason that time at the Trent. I stood at my locker holding the film cartridge tightly in my hand. I had forgotten all about it, and my mind was suddenly flooded with the images that I knew were on the film. The next problem was where to get the film developed. I took it to a civilian photo shop and told the man that I was having them developed for a buddy of mine. I also told him the nature of the pictures and said we'd taken them so he could send them to his girlfriend. The man gave me a leering smile and nodded and said he understood.

When I went back to pick them up, the man smiled even wider. "He very big," he said.

"Yeah, wouldn't you hate to be his girlfriend," I joked.

I stopped at the little park across from Toby's and found a secluded bench under some trees. I was nervous opening the packet of pictures. My breath went out of me and a sudden dull pain manifested itself in my chest when I held them in my hand. I gazed at the picture on top, of Jason, shirtless, in his combat fatigues and boots and web belt. My Godd, he was beautiful. In the next one he was his briefs. How well I remembered that bulge; his manhood so heavy that it pulled the briefs down in front. The next one, he was in all his glory naked. Big, muscular, so damned good looking, and....my eyes fell last at his

manhood. My Godd, he was hung! His cock was an absolute work of art in itself. I lingered over each picture till I sucked the very essence of him into my being. I think I was trying to bring him to life inside my own soul.

The next picture, he had a hardon. I had to laugh at the way he posed to show off his huge cock. I remembered that I'd said I needed a wide-angle lens. And he joked back that the pictures would be something to show my grandchildren. He was stroking his cock in the next one. The pictures I'd taken from the back made me want to cry, he was so gorgeous. Such a magnificent butt! My mouth watered as I remembered the hours of pleasure I had derived with my face buried between those beautifully rounded, taut muscles and my tongue boring deep into his tight hole. How he loved it. His last pose was sitting on the chair with legs spread apart and his heavy balls hanging low. He had his thumb pressed against the base of his cock to make it stand up straight and tall. Dam, he was HUGE! And then I had laid the camera down and mounted that huge cock.

I went through the stack of photos several times before I put them away. I had to sit for a few minutes while my hardon went down. Jason would have laughed at that. Now that I had them, I didn't know where I was going to keep the photos. I could use the same story I'd used with the photographer if somebody happened to find them but I didn't want to cast suspicion on myself and I wasn't sure the Colonel would buy that we'd taken them to send to Jason's girlfriend. I devised a way of hiding them. I put them in a SEALed envelope and that envelope in another SEALed envelope and wrote on it, "In case of my death, see that these pictures are sent to the address on the inner envelope." The address was one of a girl that I'd taken from the Jason's personal stuff. It was a bold and risky thing to do but I didn't much care of some ex-girlfriend received a mysterious envelope from a deceased ex-boyfriend. I taped the envelope to the underside of my foot locker tray. About once a month, I tore the envelope off to look at the pictures again.

Somehow, word got back to the colonel....he was a bird colonel now, one step away from being a general....that I hadn't gone to see my family. He called me in.

"Is there a problem back home, Sergeant?" he asked. "You never took time to go back to see your family when you extended."

"No, sir, there's no problem," I said.

"Well, its damned odd behavior," he said.

"I got a taste of what they think of us back there when I took my buddy back to bury him. I don't need the crap, sir," I said.

"Does your family feel that way?"

"I don't really know for certain, sit, but they never give any indication that they're proud that I'm over here. I have to take it that they don't support our efforts."

"Well, it's your choice, Sergeant. I just wanted to see if there was something that I could help with."

"I appreciate your concern, sir." I said. "You know what, sir? After seeing the mood back home, I would've buried my buddy over here if there was a place. He would've been more at home here."

"I expect a lot of them would. It's just too bad we don't have something like the cemetery at Normandy over here."

I extended for a second six-month tour. Again, I didn't go home to see my family. The colonel didn't ask me about it that time. Toby cautioned me to go home for good after my second extension was up, before I ended up like he had. I didn't see how that would be so bad. I'd heard that a lot of guys were taking their discharge and staying in country.

My life was pretty much run-of-the-mill Marine issue....do my job, eat, drink, sleep and have sex, not necessarily always in that order. I couldn't get past Jason's death. I missed him every minute of every day and night. The nights were the worst because there was time to remember. More than once I

buried my face in the pillow and quietly cried myself to sleep. I missed him so much it hurt.

One night I met up with Jack Burnside at Toby's; he was the soldier who came up to me in the church when Jason died. He recognized me right away and came up to the bar.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, putting out his hand.

"Still hanging in there," I said. He had big hands, and the way those long, thick, strong fingers wrapped around mine sent a chill through me for some reason. He asked if he could join me and took the stool beside me without waiting for answer. I bought his beer.

"I thought you steered clear of Toby's," I said.

He shrugged. "I decided to take a chance. I've heard some interesting things about the place."

I thought it was an odd thing to say. Maybe he was trying to tell me something. I didn't pursue it but I left my options open and let my guard down. He asked how I was doing....really, like he was concerned how I was doing.

"I'm doing okay," I told him.

"I remember you were taking it pretty rough," he said.

"It's still rough," I said.

"I know how that is. Just don't work too hard trying to get over it. Let it work itself out, and if it doesn't, well, that's okay, too," he said. "Its hard teaming up with anybody else, isn't it, when you loose somebody that close?"

"Yeah. I've been sort of wandering around like a lost puppy."

"I never did get it laid to rest completely," he said. "Its like I'm lost out here somewhere."

"Sometimes I feel like a zombie," I said.

"Yeah, I know what you mean...like you're not really alive, just going through the motions. Makes it easier when you can talk to somebody who's gone through the same thing."

I nodded. He was sounding philosophical, which surprised me.

"Hey, I've got a place now if you wanta come with me," he said.

Another surprise. I couldn't gauge what was behind his invite but I was curious enough to want to find out.

"Sure," I said, and downed the rest of my beer to indicate that I was ready to go.

Outside, he hailed a cab and gave the driver an address.

"Where is this place?" I asked.

"I'll show you."

We drove through the GI district of Saigon. When the cabbie pulled into a dark alley and stopped I began to get the jitters. It was a better part of town but it was still a dark alley. Jack paid him and we got out. The cab sped away like he was running away from something. Jack let us through a tall wooden gate into a small but beautiful garden. It was almost surreal, so peaceful and serene.

"Right up these stairs," Jack said, leading the way along a path between well manicured bushes. Up the stairs he unlocked the door and held it open for me to go in first.

"Welcome to my little corner of Saigon," he said as he closed the door and locked it.

"Your little corner? This is not a hotel, is it?"

"No. It's a place I keep to get away from the insanity out there," he said.

There was absolutely no trace of the war, not even the smell of it that permeated even the barracks. It was a large room with comfortable, not-cheap furniture, with wall hangings and sconces with candles. There was a state-of-the-art stereo system, and built-in shelves holding a small library of books. In one corner was a kitchenette and beyond that I could see a bathroom. Jack opened the French doors that opened up onto a balcony overlooking the garden.

"This is damned civilized," I said. All the while I was wondering how he managed to have such a place....how he afforded it. But maybe he came from money.

"It's a place to come," he said.

"This is all yours?" I asked.

"Well, it's rented," he said. "Everything in it is mine."

"It looks like you're planning on staying awhile," I said.

"That's a distinct possibility," he said. "My time's up in about three months and so far I haven't found any good reason to go back to the world. I didn't like what I saw when I buried my buddy." He handed me a drink.

"I know. I didn't either." I told him about my experience with Jason's funeral.

"I can top that," he said. "My buddy's mother is an anti-war activist and she wouldn't allow a military funeral. No honor guard, not even in his uniform. He was buried in a suit. Not even a flag. I wasn't even allowed to wear my uniform. She wouldn't let the minister make any mention of his military service. The bitch erased the whole time he was over here; that entire part of his life. His dad and older brother fought her on it but since she had custody when he was growing up the judge gave her say-so. I was so damned pissed...and hurt. I was hurt for his dad and brother. Both of them were in the marines. I went out to the cemetery with them before I left, in uniform, along with some high school buddies....guys we played football

with....and my rifle from the honor guard that we didn't have. I told the captain at the armory about it and he let me take the rifle and ammo. We planted flags on his grave and I gave him a fuckin' twenty-one-gun salute myself. One of the guys brought his trumpet and played taps. We gave him a proper burial. I doubt the flags stayed on his grave very long but the guys said they would see that he always had a flag even if they had to take one out there every day." He laughed softly. �I even took some of the empty brass and buried it in his gravesite. She would shit if she knew that."

"Geezusss, what a bitch."

"I didn't even tell her goodbye when I left. Hell, I practically grew up in that house, but I didn't know who the fuck that woman was. He would have been so ashamed of her." He paused, or stopped, and quickly chugged the rest of his beer. "God, I miss him," he whispered, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

I was tearing up too, remember Jason's funeral. Then out of the blue he threw me a curve that hit me right between the eyes.

"Do you want to go to bed?"

I was taken aback, not completely sure how he was asking the question. He saw my surprised look.

"I'm taking a big risk here but I think we're rowing in the same boat," he said. "If we're not, then I'm just offering you a place to sack out for the night. If so....well....." He stood up and pulled his shirt out of his jeans. "I'm going to bed. If you want to join me, I won't kick you out of bed."

I set my beer down and followed his tight bubble-butt over to the bed.

"Wow. I never had a come-on like that before," I said. "What made you think we're in the same boat?"

"In the church....I could tell you lost more than a Marine buddy. Loosing a buddy tears your guts out, but man, your heart was breaking."

He stripped off his clothes and stood and watched me undress.

"You top or bottom?" he asked boldly.

"Either....both, and everything in between," I replied.

"Good, so am I. This oughta be real interesting."

My second extension was coming to an end and Toby said we should celebrate before I left. I thought he meant buying me drinks for the night, or maybe going out on the town.

"Be here at closing time," he said.

I showed up, ready to celebrate. But when he was done cleaning up he didn't make any move to leave the bar.

"Let's go upstairs," he said.

Shit! I knew Toby lived up over the bar but I'd never been up there. My heart suddenly started thumping. If this is what he meant by celebrating and being there for me....Dam, Toby was such a stud!

His quarters were compact but comfortable. There was a small kitchen and a small living room, and much of that space was taken up by a set of weights and a workout bench. In fact, he used the bench as a coffee table. The bedroom was a small alcove with the bed up on a platform.

"I need to shower first," he said as he peeled his shirt off over his head.

His muscular upper body fairly exploded out of his jeans.

I had already showered and he didn't invite me to join him so I sat on the couch in the living room to wait. He came out a short time later with a towel wrapped around his waist. He looked sexy as hell. He was HOT.

"I didn't ask if you wanted to shower," he said.

"No. Well, yeah, but you didn't ask me," I joked.

"Fucked up there," he said. "But I'll make up for it." He stepped over my legs to go to the bedroom alcove and the towel came off. It dropped and swirled to the floor when he was standing right in front of me. I don't know, maybe he made it happen, but there he was in all his naked, studly, muscular glory.

"Are you going to get naked, or am I supposed to get dressed?" he asked.

"Don't bother getting dressed," I said. I stood up and started taking my clothes off. Toby went over and sat back on the bed, his shoulders against the headboard and his legs spread out with his balls hanging down to the mattress. He was hung like he was built. Bulky solid. Heavy-looking. Thick. Dam, he made me hungry. When I was naked I stood hesitantly for a moment.

"Lucky bastard," Toby said.

"Huh?"

"Jason. He had that at his beck and call," he said, nodding to my nakedness.

"Pretty much any time he wanted it," I admitted. But I was surprised and confused at Toby's remark. "I was the lucky one, though," I added.

"Dam right. He was a stud."

"More than you know," I said. "Or maybe not more than you know."

Toby shook his head. "It never happened," he said.

"It probably could have. He thought you were pretty hot," I said.

"I would never come into that tight circle you guys had," he said. "There wasn't room."

He was pulling on his cock. He patted the bed and I had to step over him to get to the other side. By the time I laid down, I swear, his cock was hard. Standing up between his legs like a club. He wasn't as big as Jason....hell, nobody was as big as Jason....but he was thick. He reminded me of the big, beer-can sergeant except for his smooth body. His cock looked like a tall beer can with a head so big that it looked blunt. A network of thick, bluish veins added to the look of virility. Shit, his cock was muscular! I reached over for it. I couldn't get my hand around it any more than I could get my hand around Jason's cock or a beer can.

"Dam, I don't know if I can even get my mouth around that," I said.

"Is that the way you want it?" he asked.

"For starters, yeah."

"Okay, but I'm open to anything," he said.

I bent over his middle with my lips wet. His thick cock stretched my mouth something terrible. I could barely take him. The head was like trying to stuff a baseball in my mouth. I did what I could, lapping my tongue all around, swiping up the ball juice that ran copiously out of the wide opening. I mean wide. I was able to drive my tongue into the opening and dip the stuff out. Dam, he tasted good. I like ball juice better than come; the juicy stuff before the thick globs got mixed in, and he had plenty of it.

I sucked him and drooled and played with his balls. I slipped my fingers into the beginning of his crack, using my drool to work my way into the crevice. He didn't stop me but he didn't spread his legs or offer me any encouragement either. After a few minutes I raised up.

"I'm doing the best I can," I said.

"You're doing great."

"I could take it better the other way."

"Are you sure? Well, maybe so, after Jason."

"He was huge," I said.

"How do you want it? On your back or on your stomach?"

"How do you want it?" I asked.

"On your back, but it goes in deeper that way. But what the hell, deep shouldn't be any problem for you, after Jason." He twisted around to get some lube out of the drawer of the nightstand and I stretched out on my back. He had a condom too that he held up like he was asking if he should use it.

"It's your call," I said.

"Good." He tossed the condom aside. "I hate the dam things. They're all too tight."

"No wonder," I said, as I reached out and worked the lube all over his cock.

He gave me some more on my fingertips and I put it in my hole. He positioned himself between my legs and I lifted them onto his shoulders.

"Fuck! You've got an awesome ass," he said as he squeezed my butt muscles. "I've wanted this ass since the first time you talked into my bar."

"Why didn't you say so?"

He laughed. "It was pretty much occupied," he said. He set the head of his cock against my hole and pushed a little. "Are you sure you wanta do this? It's gonna be awfully tight."

"You've been in tight places before, I'm sure, with that thing," I said. He started to say something else but I cut him off. "Hey, you're talking to a Marine, I'll handle it," I said.

It was a lot of bravado on my part. I was always apprehensive just before getting my ass plugged but this time I was approaching scared. Toby was going to pry my ass wide open, like the beer-can sergeant. I closed my eyes and sucked in a quick breath of air as he pushed harder. I was ready. I wanted it. I opened my eyes and let them rake over his incredibly-muscled body; that would heighten my desire even more. I reached up and squeezed his pecs then his tits.

"Ohhhhhh," he gasped. "Fuck....yeah....squeeze `em....pull `em....Ohhh, yeah, man, here....goes.....!" With that he entered me.

"Oh, Geezusss!!" I exclaimed. I froze. "Fuck!" It felt like he had truly shoved a beer can through my asshole.

"You said you could handle it....are you sure?" he asked.

I cringed under the excruciating pain. "Goddam!" I gasped.

"I can take it out," he said.

"You fuckin' take it out, you're gonna have a real fight on your hands," I said.

He pushed harder and I winced and started gasping like I was in labor. I was sucking in air like a steam engine. I should've been getting used to it but the deeper he went the thicker his cock felt. I hadn't noticed that he was thick at the base but he was sure prying me open.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Oh, Fuck....don't even ask!" I gasped through nervous laughter. "Just give it to me....all the way....shove it in me and let's get it over with."

He obliged. He didn't slam me but he gave one hard, serious shove and his cock was embedded in my guts like meat in a sausage casing.

"My Goddd!"

"I'm not pulling out now," he said.

I tried squeezing my asshole around his cock but he was so big I couldn't feel it doing anything.

"You tell me when you're ready," he said.

"Ready for what?"

"Ready to be fucked."

"What the fuck are you doing now?" I blurted.

"Waiting for you to get used to it," he said.

The banter helped. I squeezed harder and was greatly relieved when it started not hurting so bad when I did. I could finally feel my tight sphincter muscles contracting around his cock. I had feeling again, and it was feeling good. His girth was stretching me so that it didn't matter that he wasn't as long as Jason. Without asking or waiting for me to say so, he started fucking me.

"Ohhh, go easy....easy, man....it feels like you're pulling my ass inside out."

He fucked me easy but with great determination, not to be put off by my whimpering. His cock was like an electric prod emitting tiny shock waves all the way in and out. He had me trembling. He was good. He was incredible. Godd, he was making me feel things that even Jason hadn't made me feel.

"Geezusss," I gasped softly.

"You okay?"

"Awwhh, yeah....Fuck, I'm okay....fuck me, man....Godd, your cock feels incredible. Fuck me. Just leave me an asshole."

Toby was good; talented, and long winded. He had the moves and staying power that are rare among men. I didn't know what the big O was all about, but Toby had me on the verge of something with every throb and move of his cock. I hadn't felt anything like this since Jason.

"You getting close?" he asked. "You look like you're about to come."

"I've been close for a long time. I've been close with every stroke of your cock. I don't know what's keeping me from cuming; I want to."

"I can take you over the top if you want," he said.

"Take me anywhere you wanta take me," I said breathlessly.

He started driving his cock into me at odd angles, twisting his hips, lobbing his cock around inside me. He pulled back till just the head of his cock was lodged in my ass and the thick, gristle rim pulled on my ass muscle. It felt wonderful. He used cork-screw motions that drove me crazy. The blunt head of his cock hit and rubbed against my prostate which made me want to scream. He was fucking me with a steady, determined pace, working me up, pushing me toward insanity when suddenly he slammed into me like a pile driver with a loud gushing groan.

"Aw, Shit!....Fuck, man, I hope you're close....cause I'm gonna come....I can't hold it back....I'm gonna come!" His entire body bulged and flexed like a mountain of muscle and shook and seconds later he was pumping heavy loads of come inside me. Fuck, the stuff was hot!

I wasn't quite there. I willed my climax but it just wouldn't happen. Sensing my frustration, Toby fucked me like a madman to try to get me to go off.

"It's okay, man, I don't have t come," I gasped.

He pounded my butt a dozen more times then slowed down. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I had you so close....but all of a sudden my trigger tripped...your ass is so hot and tight and alive, I couldn't hold off."

"Its okay, don't worry about it," I told him.

"Don't you worry, I'll make it up to you. I'll get you off," he declared. He hovered over me till his powerful arms were shaking then shoved himself up. He reared back on his haunches and I started to lift my legs off his shoulders but he grabbed me by the calves and held me there. He watched intently as he extracted his cock from my ass.

"Dam, you are wide open," he said.

"I don't doubt it, with that beer can cock of yours."

He pushed my legs toward me, tilting me in half with my asshole aimed right straight up.

"That is hot, looking right down in your asshole," he said. "Fuck, I can see your inner muscles moving. Squeeze your asshole."

I squeezed but didn't feel anything happen. Toby laughed.

"It ain't closing up," he said.

"Are you sure you didn't fuck me a new asshole: a larger size?"

I saw him flick his tongue out to wet his lips. He wouldn't....Not Toby...hell, he was practically straight. Most guys at the bar thought he was straight.

"I said I would get you off....." His words trailed off and he wet his lips and I shivered at what he was going to do. Suddenly he buried his face in my ass and drove his tongue into my gaping hole. Deep. Deeper than anybody had ever tongued me. It felt like a small cock darting around inside me. I groaned but I choked on it and it didn't come out. I pressed my head back into the pillow and clawed the sheets. I felt my asshole relax and opened even wider to welcome his tongue. I felt his hot spit drooling into my ass and he washed it all around the delicate inner muscles.

"Oh, Geezusss, Toby!" I moaned. "Ohh, yeah...tongue it...eat it, you big stud....oohhnnnn....awww, you're getting me there....so close....so fuckin' close....don't stop, man....don't stop Toby!.....I'm comin'....!!!"

I came so hard the bed shook. I shot off so hard my head ached from the blood pounding in my temples. I sprayed myself....shot come all over my face and neck and shoulders and my chest and in my mouth and nose and pools of come in my eyes. My Godd, where was it all coming from! Toby kept tonguing me. He had me so far over the top that I couldn't take any more.

"Aww, please....." I grabbed his head in both my hands. "Fuck, man, you gotta stop! I can't take any more....fuck, man....let up on it.....!"

He raised up, reluctantly, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He laughed when he saw the come all over me.

"Let me down....let my legs down....I gotta get my breath," I gasped.

He pulled my legs down and laid them on either side of his hips. My ass was still wide open and I felt his come drooling out. I tried to tighten the muscle but I only squeezed air.

"That was wild," Toby said.

"That's an understatement," I gasped. I was groping for the sheet to wipe the come out of my one eye.

"You made a real mess," he said. "I never seen anybody come like that."

I got myself cleaned off and let my arms fall at my sides. Toby moved from between my legs and lay beside me.

"That was fuckin' wild," he said again. "Did Jason ever do anything like that for you?"

"No. With him it was pretty much a one way street."

"I would've thought so," he said.

"I thought it would be with you, too," I said.

"Going one way all the time is boring. How come you thought that?"

"You're so damned straight-acting....nobody in the bar would believe this."

"I'm straight-acting?" he scoffed. "You're straight as a ramrod. And Jason....nobody would believe he would go for anything like this."

"Jason really was straight," I said. "He just liked having sex with other guys."

"With one guy, mostly," Toby said.

"I liked to think so....but I was never sure," I said. "You know something I always wondered about?"

"What?"

"I wondered if he ever made it with any of those Vietnamese boys he met up with on the way."

"Geezuss, he would fuck those little guys a new asshole."

�Have you ever fucked a Vietnamese boy?" I asked.

�Yes, on occasion," he said. �Have you?"

�Yeah, they're as good as Vietnamese girls," I said.

Toby rubbed his hand across my stomach. "The celebration isn't over. The fireworks have just started," he said.

I couldn't believe that night. We did everything together. What I did for him, he did for me and I reciprocated. Godd, he was insatiable, and as virile as Jason. His cock stayed a club the whole night. Towards morning he was whining that it'd stayed hard so long that it was aching. My cock wasn't sore but my ass was numb from the repeated pounding he gave me. Neither of us wanted to stop but we ran out of night and were running short on morning.

"We'd better knock it off and give your asshole a chance to close up before you have to leave," he said.

"I need to see if I can walk," I said.

We lay together and talked and caressed each other and Toby checked my asshole every now and then with his fingers. Toward the end, he used his thumb and smiled.

"Aw, I can feel it squeezing my thumb....you're closing up," he said.

I fondled his cock till it was hard again. I gaped at it in disbelief. "Goddam, I don't believe I took that thing."

"Look what you've done. What're you going to do now?"

"Anything left in your tank?" I asked, fondling his balls.

"There's always more where that came from," he said.

"I want it." With that, I hovered over him and went down on his cock.

Toby gave himself up to me one last time. It was almost nostalgic. His muscular cock fairly bolted thick streams of come into my mouth. I savored it for a moment then swallowed it.

"Are we going to go have breakfast like civilized men, or are we going to keep acting like a couple of wild animals," Toby joked.

"I guess it's gotta end sometime," I said.

Over breakfast Toby talked about Jason. He drew it all out of me and I felt better for it.

"Is this a therapy session?" I asked.

"I don't know, is it making you feel better?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'm the only one you can talk to about it who understands," he said.

"It's the first time I've let it out....all of it," I said.

"Are you sure you want to go back to the states and get out?"

"I'm not sure about anything, but I think it's time," I said. �I think I'm burning out."

"Why don't you stay in country?" he said.

"Like you stayed?"

"Yeah, you can make a good life here."

"Not if we don't win this thing," I said. "And I'm not all that sure they're going to let us. Naw, I need to go back and see what's there."

"You saw what was there."

"I saw some decency among a few people," I said. "If I don't find what I'm looking for, maybe I will come back."

"You're not going to find what you're looking for," Toby said. "Especially not back there. He's gone, Brad....you're not going to find him no matter how hard you look."

I dropped my eyes and started to choke up. It was a cruel thing to say to me, but maybe it needed to be said. Finally, I looked up again.

"I'm still going back. But we'll keep in touch, okay?"

"Right."

I considered enlisting in the Navy and becoming a Navy SEAL but I didn't. Honestly, even as a tough marine, there was a tiny part of me that doubted that I had what it took to become Jason. I didn't have his steely eyes and his big, brass balls. So I got out, went to see my family for a brief visit then set about getting on with my life. I was drawn to Columbus, Ohio. It was a big city but close enough to Jason as well as my hometown of Benton Heights over in Indiana. Maybe Toby was right; maybe I was still looking for him; and I knew where he would always be, and I took comfort in that. There were warehouses springing up all around Columbus and I got job as a warehouse manager and began looking to buy a place of my own.

My choice of a real estate agent was a fluke. He turned out to be gay. He saw it in me but I didn't see it in him at first. Hell, I was looking for a place to buy, not a sex partner. He revealed himself to me one day when he was showing me a place. It was a place well out in the country, located in heavily wooded hills back off a winding lane. A small stream cut into the back of the property for several hundred yards. The house was a big, old farmhouse, on its way to being run down but with a lot of potential. There was a barn, complete with hayloft, and horse stables and some other outbuildings. I envisioned myself becoming a part-time farmer. There was still some furniture left in the house; a big kitchen table and chairs, an old cabinet that I deemed to be an antique, and some chairs and tables and a huge woven rug in the living room.

"There's not enough land to farm, but you could raise farm animals, and a big garden," Josh, my agent, was saying as we stood in the barn

"I guess that's close enough to being a farmer," I said.

"You could do about anything you want back here," he went on. "Its very much out of the way, secluded to a fault up here on the hill. You could have loud, wild parties and nobody would ever know."

"I'm not really a party guy," I said. "At least not loud, wild parties."

"Ah, the more intimate type," he said.

I laughed. We went back inside for me to take another look through the house. My mind was already pretty much made up but I wanted to go through again and inspect it for any serious faults that I'd missed before. I found nothing new and the ones I saw were fixable.

"I think I'll take it," I announced in the kitchen.

"Great. I'll get the paper work started."

"How long do you think it'll take?" I asked.

"Well, since there's no one living here, occupancy can be immediate. It's just the time to get the loan approved and the papers shoved through the system. I'm very good at that."

"When can we start on the paper work?" I asked.

"Right now, if you want to come back to my office," he said.

"Fine," I said.

I took a moment to look around the kitchen again.

"Makes you want to celebrate, doesn't it?" Bill remarked.

"Maybe I will when it's mine," I said.

"I could think of a thousand ways," he said.

I glanced at him, thinking it was an odd thing to say. He caught my glance and in that split second of eye contact, as most often happens, something clicked. We both hesitated and neither of us made any move to leave and it was awkward for a few seconds till Josh spoke.

"You're new to the area. I could show you places to go celebrate," he said.

It came to me in a flash and the words came out. "How about right here, right now?" I said.

Josh smiled, still hesitant.

"I've been admiring the way you're put together," I said.

"Likewise. And I've got a soft spot for Marines," he said. �Especially Marines with balls who aren't afraid to go after what they want."

�You could say I've got balls. Have to have to be a Marine," I said.

�I'll bet you have." He laid his brief-case on the table and moved toward me.

"Oh and where would that soft spot be that you've got for Marines?" I asked smartly.

�I'm sure you'll find it."

We undressed each other and I found his soft spot and he offered it to me. I fucked him bent over the kitchen table. He wasn't Jason....he never could be, especially in that position, but he was a cute, live, warm, responsive man of muscle and I needed that. I fucked his eyeballs out. He was a wreck by the time I finished. He lay sprawled across the table, limp and gasping for air. I saw the puddles of come on the floor and come still draining out of his cock. My own come....two big loads of it....was trickling out of his asshole.

"My Godd!" he said as he struggled to raise up from the table. "I've never been fucked like that in my life!"

"You've never been fucked by a Marine, then. There's more where that came from," I said cockily.

"I'll take it! Shit, you're not even breathing hard!" he exclaimed.

"That's the Marine training," I said.

Josh and I got to be good friends after that. He showed me around the surrounding towns and Columbus, Indiana. He took me to the two gay men's clubs and bathhouses, several gay bars and a male strip club. I was grateful but as soon as I knew my way around I began to venture out on my own.

For brief moments I forgot about Jason, but he was always there, inside me. Every man I met was gauged against him and none of them measured up. And I had my pictures. I had three of them....the more decent ones....enlarged and framed and they hung in my bedroom.

I made the trip to see my family again when my mom decided to have a reunion over Labor Day weekend. It would be good to see my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins that I hadn't seen in years. And my brother and his wife and kids.

I was taken aback when I saw Brian's kids. Melanie was a knockout at fourteen and Hunter was a stud. Melanie was gushing friendly and full of questions about the war and Vietnam, the country and the people. I thought that unusual for a fourteen-year-old. It took awhile to get around to Hunter because he was making the rounds, making everybody laugh, and I was getting reacquainted with people. He and I ended up sitting across from each other at a picnic table to eat.

"Geezuss, what happened to you?" I said as I looked him up and down. "Last time I saw you, you were about this high."

"I guess I grew up," he said.

"And out," I said, clapping my hands around his broad shoulders. "Well, shit, no wonder," I said, nodding to his plate heaped with food.

I learned that Hunter was about to turn eighteen, starting his senior year.

"What sports?" I asked.

"Football, baseball, wrestling. I tried out for track and basketball but I'm too heavy and I don't have the speed. I played soccer this summer," he told me.

"Well, it's good to know that all of that isn't going to waste," I said, indicating his muscular upper body.

"Oh, I make good use of it," he said, laughing. "Hell, I've got it, I might as well use it."

"Meaning....uhhh....somehow, I don't think that was a reference to sports," I said quietly with a suspicious grin.

Just then a car drove up and a drop-dead blonde got out, wearing shorts and a top that barely covered and contained her tits.

"Speaking of which....." Hunter said as he got up from the table. He went to meet her then brought her back to the table and introduced her. "Angie, this is my Uncle Brad. This is Angie," he said.

I stood up part way and took her hand that she offered me. We chatted for a moment then she headed off to see Hunter's mom.

"Dam!" I said softly. Hunter laughed. "You were speaking of....?" I said.

"Like I said, I try to put all of my God-given talents and attributes to good use," he said.

"She is obviously very comfortable around the family," I observed. "How long have you been going with her?"

"About a year. And yeah, I try to make her real comfortable," he said with a mischievous grin.

It was a fun day. I couldn't get my fill of Hunter. He was funny and he was great eye candy. If my brother only knew what was going through my mind. I was jealous as hell of Angie the way he hung on her, his arm around her, his hand slipping down to her butt from time to time and hers on his butt when they thought no one was looking. Evening came and I needed to get on the road. I began the rounds of telling everyone good-bye. My mom and dad walked out to my car with me then Hunter came up.

"Hey, maybe I'll come for a visit over Thanksgiving break," he said.

"That'd be great. I've got plenty of room," I said.

That scenario, of the big hunk staying with me for a couple of days, whetted my appetite and gave me something to look forward to. I got the house in order and fixed up a room for him. It wasn't the room I'd planned on fixing up for the spare bedroom but his coming put a new perspective on things. I'd planned on making the room fartherest down the hall from my room into a guest room, which would give a guest more privacy. But I didn't really want to offer Hunter privacy so I fixed up the room right across my mine.

Come Thanksgiving, my mom wanted everybody home but Hunter had already planned to come to visit me and I told her I couldn't go back on my word. I couldn't pass up such a golden opportunity.

It was unseasonably warm for Thanksgiving. Warm enough that he drove up with his windows down and wearing a T-shirt. I took him through the house and showed him his room

then walked him around the place.

"This is an awesome place to bring women," he said.

"That's an interesting observation," I said.

"Come on, don't tell me you don't have women up here. Heck, you probably had to run them off with a broom like a bunch of chickens before I got here."

"Well, it's not quite that good," I said.

"I'll have to sneak Angie with me next time."

"Not a good idea," I said. "I'm not ready to face off with mom or your mother and dad on that issue if they found out," I said.

We wolfed down sandwiches and Hunter helped himself to a cold beer and set one out for me.

"That's not a habit with you I hope," I said.

"Naw, I can take it or leave it," he said.

"Unlike sex," I joked.

"Unlike sex," he agreed. "You got a girlfriend, Uncle Brad?" he asked.

"No one steady. Nobody that I introduce around."

"Oh....sneak her in and sneak her out," he said, laughing.

"Well, I haven't been in circulation very long," I said.

"Crap! You were a Marine. You never got out of circulation," he said.

"Okay, civilian circulation. The girls are different back home. And by the way, there is no such thing as a "were" Marine. Once a Marine, always a Marine."

"Yes, sir. I stand humbly corrected," he said. "You got a lot of that Viet Nam pussy, I'll bet."

"My share, I guess, like anybody else," I lied.

After lunch we walked back around the barn and headed back through the woods. It was up and down hills till we went up to the highest point overlooking the small creek.

"Nice," Hunter said. "Is it deep enough to swim in?"

"No. Wading or just playing around in the water."

"I'll bet you come here a lot," he said.

"Yeah, it's a great place to wind down."

Hunter stepped aside, not turning completely away from me and undid his shorts to take a piss. I didn't make a point of looking but he didn't make a point of concealing anything and I was taken aback at what he hauled out of his shorts.

"Dam, Hunter!" I exclaimed.

He laughed.

"That's huge!"

"It gets the job done," he said nonchalantly.

"I'll bet it does."

Since he was so open about it, I didn't feel awkward about watching him. He finished pissing and milked his cock several times and shook it but he didn't put it away.

"You done looking?" he asked.

"Yeah. Geezusss, I'll bet you go over big in the locker room."

"Girls or boys locker room?" he joked. He still didn't put his cock away.

"I would bet you can't even get your hand around it," I said.

"This way, I can," he said as he put his hand around it and squeezed his fingers to touch. "I can barely touch my fingers when it's hard, though." Then he knocked the wind out of me. "Do you wanta see if you can get your hand around it?"

I didn't know where he was heading, if anywhere, but he asked so casually that I felt okay in touching and it was an invitation I couldn't resist. I reached out and wrapped my hand around the thick hunk of meat. It was already pretty solid and beginning to grow and I barely touched my fingers around it.

"Dam, Hunter, how big does it get?"

"Pull on it a few times, you'll find out," he said jokingly.

I didn't pull very hard but I squeezed and milked it and gave it enough attention that it was responding without making me appear to be anything beyond curious. As his cock expand