A Sailor's Story

Edited by Michael Leonard

Prologue:

I had joined the Navy right out of high school. In fact I had joined during my senior year and reported for boot camp at the Great Lakes Naval Training facilities just after graduation. Boot camp wasn't too difficult for me. Standing 5'4" tall and weighing a little over 120 pounds I easily met the basic physical requirements. Being in excellent shape helped me pass the physical tests of basic training. One day after several months of training, a "counselor" asked me if I'd like to volunteer for submarine duty. I hadn't yet learned to avoid "volunteering" at all costs.

After taking several psychological tests to determine if I could live in the stressful atmosphere of a submarine and some aptitude tests to determine what type of job I was best suited for, I qualified for additional training as a submariner. I was shipped off to Groton, Connecticut for a six-week introduction course in the basic theory, construction and operation of nuclear-powered submarines, after which I went on for additional training in Engineering, primarily for the Auxiliary division. As a machinist mate I would be working on the boat's control systems for steering and depth control; and their hydraulic systems, the high pressure air systems, the backup diesel generator and the atmosphere control equipment, which produces oxygen and eliminates CO2 and other contaminants; ventilation blowers, coolers for the air the boat's refrigeration equipment; and damage control and fire-fighting equipment. In other words, I would receive training in various trades that would serve me well after my Navy career was over. Upon the completion of my training, I was assigned to my first boat, the USS OHIO (SSBN – 726), the first of a new class of submarine – nuclear-powered, fleet ballistic missile submarines. I got my assignment to the Blue Crew when one of the machinist mates died in an auto accident while on leave. After being commissioned, and following our shakedown cruise, the first of the "boomers" left the Atlantic and transited through the Panama Canal to her new home port, Bangor, Washington, where we received our first load of Trident C-4 missiles. Soon afterwards we departed on our first patrol. Truly my life as a sailor had begun.

Chapter 1

My name is Tom Walker. I grew up in a one-parent family in a small town in Georgia. I never met my Dad; he was killed in action as the war in Vietnam was winding down. My Mom was devastated, first by the fact that she had lost the man she loved, and then by the realization that she was pregnant with me. She knew that she was going to have to work to keep a roof over our heads, so she got a job in a supermarket, which paid the bills until she couldn't work anymore. After I was born and the money began to run out, she took a long hard look at her situation and decided that the best way that she could provide for herself and me was to turn to the world's oldest profession. I've seen pictures of my mother and me when I was a baby. She was beautiful, young and extremely sexy. She had married my Dad when she was seventeen in order to get out of an abusive household. I was born less than a year later. She had blond hair, blue eyes, a great smile, and a figure that Hugh Hefner would have turned into a household word.

I'm sure at first the business was good for her. Being close to the Navy yard, she must have had no shortage of paying customers. To me she was a good mom; she was always home, and although she wasn't a good cook, there was always food on the table. I never thought about how she made a living when I was in grade school. I would go to school in the morning, come home from school at three in the afternoon and always be greeted by my Mom; a glass of milk was on the table and along with a couple of cookies. In the evening, after I did my homework, I would watch a little TV and then by nine o'clock I would have to go to bed. Every once in awhile, I would wake up and come down to go to the bathroom; inevitably one of my many "uncles" would be sitting on the sofa in the living room having a beer with Mom.

It wasn't until I became a teenager that I began to realize that my mother was different from the other mothers. She dressed differently, looked and acted differently and didn't seem to have any female friends. Now after school, I would always have to ride my bike over to my friend's house to play. Whenever I suggested that they come to my house, maybe to spend the night, their mothers would always insist that I stay with them; which my mother would always agree to, no questions asked. Some of the older guys in school would talk behind my back when they thought I couldn't hear. They would say things like, "Tom's mom is hot." "She's got great tits." "I heard she's a whore." If I was bigger I'd have started a fight right there; instead, I ignored them and ran home.

One evening, long after I had gone up to bed, I snuck out of my room and lay on the floor at the top of the stairs. From there I had a perfect view of the living room sofa; that was the night of my sexual awakening. There sitting on the sofa, naked was one of my "uncles"; his hand was moving up and down his huge cock, as my friends called it, while my mother slowly peeled off her sun dress. When she was as naked as he was, she knelt between his legs, moved his hand out of the way, replacing it with both of hers. What she did next shook me to my core. She bent over and started to first lick it like an ice cream cone and then took it deep into her mouth like how I used to eat an ice pop. The guy, he was no longer an uncle, began to moan as her head bobbed up and down, faster and faster, until he let out a gasp and seemed to try to shove it up through the top of her head. She sat back and reached over a grabbed a sip of her beer. Then she renewed her playing with his now softened cock.

"How about a quick fuck," she asked, "it'll only cost you another seventy-five bucks?"

When she had it nice and hard again, she got up and straddled his lap, offering her large tits for him to squeeze and suck, while she settled over his fully erect cock. I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched it slowly disappear inside her. I was almost ready to yell out for him to stop hurting her, when I heard her tell him how big it was and how good it felt. Soon she was bouncing up and down, faster and faster, until he began to grunt, the grimace on his face turning to a smile of contentment. I watched my Mom slowly pull up off him, then she bent over and pulled off a rubber thing which I had never seen her put on his now wilting cock. She gave him a few quick sucks and said, "There, all clean." He got up, pulled out his wallet, tossed a pile of bills on the end table and left. She picked up the cash and left the room. As quietly as possible, I stood up and retreated back to my room. At the time I didn't know exactly why, but the front of my pajama bottoms was wet and sticky. I lay in my bed that night, thinking about everything that I had witnessed and what it meant. 'The guys in school were right; my Mom is a whore.' And everything seemed to fall into place.

After that, I spent less and less time at home. By the time I entered high school, I had a part-time job at night and was doing odd jobs, and fixing discarded lawn mowers and other pieces of equipment for resale. I made several new friends in high school, but outside of them I felt like a social outcast. I wasn't interested in girls and they weren't interested in me. I wasn't gay or anything like that, sex just didn't occupy my mind, not like it did almost every other guy in the school.

At home, I watched the business begin to take its toll on my mother. By the time I was in my senior year, having just turned eighteen, she was just thirty-five years old but was beginning to look like an old woman. She had to wear more and more makeup to hide the lines on her face. Her once sexy tight body began to surrender to the effects of gravity, especially her tits, which the clothes she wore displayed more than ever. Her drinking became more of a problem as well. Many mornings I would get up for school, to find her passed out at the kitchen table, a bottle of cheap vodka and a half empty glass in front of her along with an ever smaller stack of bills.

Towards the end of my senior year, I got pulled into her decadent world. One of her 'friends,' a regular demanded that I sit in her bedroom while they had sex. Of course I said no way.

"Tom, please, he's a good customer, always pays me well, and I don't want to lose him. Please."

The first time I did as she asked, revolted by the sight. Soon it turned into a weekly occurrence. Then one night, when my mother was in the bathroom, he told me to get naked and to lie on the bed. When I told him no, he hinted that if I didn't do what he said he would hurt my Mom, and then me. Because he was a lot bigger than me, I did what he asked, laying face down on the bed.

"No get on your back, I'm not into little boys."

I did what he asked, and before I realized what was happening, he had cuffed both my hands to the headboard and was tying my feet to the legs at the foot of the bed with my mother's panty hose.

When I was completely helpless he called out to my Mom,

"He's ready, you can come in now."

My Mom slowly entered the room, she was completely naked and I could tell by the look in her eye that she had been drinking heavily. Her friend stripped off his clothes and sat in a chair near the bed.

"Go ahead put on a good show and there will be a bonus for you."

"Mom, please don't do this; please don't."

"Shhh, you'll be all right. I'm going to take good care of you, tonight, I'm going to make you a man," she slurred. "Oh Baby, if I'd had known you were packing something this big, I might have suggested that we do this sooner."

She crawled onto the bed, up between my legs and taking my cock in her hand she began gently stroke it. I couldn't control it; my cock responded to her stimulation with a mind of its own. Soon I was completely hard; that's when her experienced mouth took me in deep. I could feel her tongue circling around the mushroom-shaped head as her head began to bob up and down. Deeper and deeper I would travel into her mouth until I could feel the back of her throat close over it. I could feel the sensation of her throat trying to swallow, all the time sending waves of pleasure to my brain.

"Mom, please stop; please let me out, I can't hold it any longer; I'm going to cum."

With a groan, I felt my balls tighten and I sent my first cum with a woman down my mother's throat. She held me, milking me dry as she looked into my eyes. Even with the booze, I could see the sadness held in those once spellbinding eyes. I was still hard, held in her hand, as she slowly stroked me while she looked over at her friend. I glanced over, as well; he was still sitting there stroking his own cock. The only ounce of satisfaction that I could take away from this depraved situation was the fact that, at a little over eight inches long, I had at least three inches on him -- and was a lot thicker than he was.

My attention was diverted back to my mother as she slowly took me back into her mouth. How she did it I'll never know, but as my cock disappeared deeper and deeper into her mouth, I could feel it slowly being encased by what I now knew was a condom. When she finally lifted her mouth of me, I was completely covered right down to the root. She was good; I had to give her that.

"Mom, please you don't have to do this, I have money, I have a job, and I can support us. Please don't do this."

"Oh, Baby, you don't understand. I want to do this. I'm really good; you're going to love it."

I watched, helpless, as she crawled up my body until she was straddling my hips. She reached down, positioned me at her entrance and I watched as I slowly disappeared into her. I could feel the heat of her body, even through the condom, as she settled down completely.

"Oooo you have a big one," she squealed, as she sat on my body getting used to the fullness. Then she began to move, at first slowly, up and down, and then she moved her hips in a small circle. All the time she had her eyes closed, a dreamy look on her face. She bent over offering me her tits to suck on.

"Go ahead baby, suck on it just like you used to do."

My mind was on sexual overload. I surrendered to the pleasure that she was forcing on to me and began to bite gently on her nipple as I sucked. Her eyes flew open as the first of her orgasms hit her. I could feel her hips slamming down onto my body and she soon came for a second time.

"Oh Carl, I missed you so much, so much. Give it to me again, just like before. It's been so long. That's it, that's it, yes, yes. Oh my God I'm cumming again."

She screamed and passed out, falling off my body onto the side of the bed.

'Carl, who's Carl?' Then I remembered that was my father's name; and I started to cry.

I don't know how long I lay there, or when exactly he left, but at some point during the night my Mom awoke, released me from my bonds and begged me to forgive her. She was crying hysterically, I tried to comfort her as best as I could, telling her that I forgave her. But we both knew that we had crossed a line and that there was no going back.

"Mom, I can't stay here anymore. One of these days one of your friends is going to push you too far and either you or I will end up dead. You've got to get help; you're still young and pretty enough to settle down, to find a man to replace Dad. If you don't, this life is going to kill you. I wasn't going to tell you, but I've enlisted in the Navy. I'll be going away right after graduation. I'm going to ask Charlie Taylor if I can stay with him until then." She was still crying, begging me to not to go, when I closed her bedroom door and went up to my room.

The next morning, I found her sitting at the kitchen table; the trash can next to the door was filled with empty bottles of booze.

"I know I've been a terrible mother, I know I'm sick and need help, and I know that you have to leave. Can you please drive me to the clinic in town? I don't think I can do it on my own."

I dropped her off on the way to school. After school, I went home with Charlie. I asked to speak to his parents alone after dinner. Charlie left the room, heading for the recreation room, while Mr. and Mrs. Taylor took me into the formal living room and closed the sliding doors behind them.

"Please, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor don't say anything or give me an answer before you hear my whole story. You know me and I'm sure you know about my Mom; what she is and what she does for a living."

I could tell that made them both a little uncomfortable, more so Mrs. Taylor who was shifting her feet nervously back and forth.

"Last night she was entertaining one of her friends and, before I could do anything about it, I was raped."

I let that sink in for a minute, allowing them to think that it was her friend that raped me.

"Harold, we have to do something, call the police or something. Oh you poor, dear."

"Please, let me continue." I looked directly into Mr. Taylor's eyes and said, "Calling the police will do no good." I paused then continued, seeing the recognition in his eyes, "besides, if she's arrested how is she going to survive? She has no one but me. If you really want to help you can let me stay here with you until after graduation. I've already joined the Navy on their delayed entry program. I'll be heading for basic training by the end of graduation week. This morning I dropped my Mom off at the clinic in town. She's agreed that she needs help and I believe that she means it."

Mr. Taylor was the first speak, after looking to his wife for her approval.

"Of course you can stay here. Are you sure about the Navy? Don't you think that college would be a better choice?"

"Thank you both, but at this point in my life I don't think a college would take me, besides I'd like to give the Navy a try. Who knows, maybe after the Navy I'll be ready for college. One last thing, please don't tell Charlie about what happen to me."

"Of course not. Is there anyone else that you have to call, any family?"

"No, I have no one, only my Mom."

Over the course of the next three weeks, I returned to my house to get some clothes and my savings book. I contacted my Mom, who had been transferred to a clinic for alcoholics, and asked Mr. Taylor for one more favor.

"Mr. Taylor, I know that you are a stockbroker, and from what I can see around me, a very successful one at that. I've been working for the last four years and have a fairly good amount of money that I'd like to invest for the long term. Where I'm going I won't be needing it any time soon. I'd like to invest the money in an IPO. I've been watching a company from Atlanta, it's been opening quite a few stores in the area and I've heard that the owners are planning on taking the company public in the next couple of months. What I'd like to do is invest all of my money, a little over $5,000 in the stock."

"Son, that's pretty risky, you could lose everything if the company doesn't make it. I would rather you invested in several companies, rather than just one. But that's up to you. What's the name of this company?"

"The Home Depot. I've shopped in one of their stores and they have everything under one roof. I think they're going to put much of their completion out of business, once they go public."

"OK, OK. You sold me. I'll draw up the paperwork to open the account tomorrow at the office. You have to get to the bank and get a check to deposit in your account. I'll hold it in a money market account until the company goes public."

Soon after graduation, I packed a minimum amount of clothes, took the rest back to my house, reminded Mr. Taylor about my investment and, on the Friday after graduation, got on a train heading to Chicago.

The next chapter of my life was about to begin.

Chapter 2

Unlike many people who join the military, I was perfectly suited for my role. My small stature and mechanical abilities made me an invaluable asset on the submarine. Living your life with 154 other men in extremely close quarters is, however, very difficult unless you are comfortable in your own skin. Privacy is practically nonexistent on a sub, even one the size of the Ohio. When we would go out on patrol, we would carry enough food for approximately 60 to 90 days and could travel anywhere in the world, underwater, completely undetected, which meant that for at least 60 days we would not see the sun. In fact that was our primary reason for being. We were the United States most lethal weapon in the cold war; its most effective first strike deterrent. The knowledge that if we were ordered to fire our missiles at any enemy location meant that all hell had broken loose and most likely the world was close to Armageddon; it was a very sobering thought.

It's amazing how quickly you fall into a routine when you're on board a submarine. Each "morning" (when you're underwater there's no difference between day and night) I'd get up, dress, have breakfast and report for duty. I was part of the engineering department and my primary responsibilities included maintaining the atmospheric systems; the cooling systems for the air, the air quality systems – scrubbing the air of CO2 and maintaining the level of oxygen and the water purification and recycling systems. On a new boat, after shakedown, the systems are pretty much trouble free, but you still have to maintain them. A typical day is eighteen hours long. The crew is divided into 3 watch sections; each watch is 6 hours long. When a crew-member is on watch he is actively operating his assigned equipment. After watch a crew-member spends the next 12 hours engaged in various activities, such as attending training sessions and studying for advancement examinations or to qualify to stand watch at other workstations. Some perform routine preventive maintenance on their specialized equipment. In our free time we can watch movies, play cards or various board games, exercise in our gym and have our meals. After an eighteen-hour day it's easy to fall asleep.