Interlude: Robert's Story
Norfolk, 1995
I didn't set out to have an affair, but Jack Grant was the right man at the right time for one.
It had been a tough couple of years. An understatement, really: the two years following Carol's cancer diagnosis were brutal. Treatment, hope, regression, worse news upon worse news.
It had come to a head that month. The doctor had given the news that my wife had at most a year left to live. Carol would undergo another round of radiation, but the prognosis wasn't good.
Her sister came to help out. She'd help look after the boys, too. The saving grace was that the seriousness of the situation meant John stopped being an asshole rebellious teen for a while, and Paul stepped up, too, helping John look after their younger brothers. But it was tough.
Carol was fatigued and sleeping a lot. My sister in law told me to have a night to myself. Things were under control at home for a change. I almost said no, but I realized I needed it.
That's how I ended up at a bar downtown with an officer buddy of mine. A burger and a couple of beers. Commander Farrell knew I needed some company, but he had a family at home and an early start at the base next day, so he begged off after a couple of rounds. I thought of doing the same, but this was my one night out of the house in months. I was going to stay.
I knew alcohol wasn't going to make me feel better, not really, but nothing else would, either. I was tipsy when the man two seats down from me nodded in a friendly hello kind of way.
"Tough night?" he asked.
I felt seen, but something about his demeanor was respectful but friendly. He was clearly military from his buzzed blond hair, and he would have recognized me as a likely officer, too.
"Tough week," I replied. I didn't want to get into things with a stranger. "But it's good to get out."
We made small talk. He was a Lieutenant in the Supply Corps. Indiana born and raised. He had studied engineering at Purdue, ROTC. He told me his name was Jack. We talked Navy business. He wasn't under my command, but had worked some on logistics for my ship.
Yeah, I got a feeling he was gay, or interested in men. He looked at me in a particular way, but he wasn't too forward. Indeed, Jack was respectful, friendly in small talk.
I was married, and it was Don't Ask, Don't Tell. But something about his eye contact gave me permission to look at him, too. It had been a while since I'd been sexually attracted to a guy like this. But Jack was blond and masculine and my type to a T. I'd only ever been with guys when I was younger... some experimenting as a teen and some fooling around on the sly at Naval Academy. Jack had the youthfulness that drew me in, but he was also stronger built than those Academy guys, a fit, muscular Naval officer.
He offered to buy me the next round. I agreed and told him to sit at the empty stool next to mine. He asked me about my family. I gave the stock answer. Proud father of four, eldest applying to colleges now, smart kid, don't know where he gets it. Hoping at least one of them follows in their dad's footsteps. That sort of thing. White picket fence stuff.
Jack nodded along. He might have been just into me sexually, but he was listening. Letting me talk. And it just came out. About Carol and her cancer, and how I was barely holding it together for the boys, and how the Navy had policies to help officers with family issues, but I still had my fucking job to do. I was laying it all out for this complete stranger.
I apologized for blabbing. Jack told me it was fine, and he offered another beer. I told him I was plenty drunk. I should get a taxi, I told him. He offered to drive me home instead.
He got quiet as we got in the car. "I'm not going to say anything to get me or you in trouble," he said. "But if you need any help, let me know, Robert." The words COULD have been innocent enough, but the sexual meaning was there.
This was too easy. But I knew I was safe taking him up on the offer. It had been eleven months since I'd had sex. "Yeah, okay," I said.
His place was in West Ghent, not far. A modest apartment in a 60s brick building. I should have been nervous, but I was drunk and riding on my neglected horniness. Jack sat down on the sofa and urged me to step up. I did. His hands felt good on my jeans, feeling my legs up. He was into me, really fucking into me. I fed off that. I was 40 years old and a Navy Commander and in my prime, and this younger blond, hazel-eyed stud was into me.
His hand pawed my crotch. "Jesus," he hissed. Surprised by my size. He looked up, those hazel eyes showing clear lust. "OK, if I go further, Commander?"
It felt wrong to be addressed by rank during sex. Like, somehow more forbidden than cheating on my wife. Turns out, it turned me on. It turned Jack on, too. Particularly when I replied, "Have at it, Lieutenant."
Jack got a horny, happy grin and started fumbling with my jeans. I wore boxers then, so it was easy for him to reach in for my cock. Often, when I'm drunk, I can lose a hard on. Not then. I was steel erect in his touch as he ran his fingers up and down the length.
"Fuckin' nice," he hissed. Even if I pegged Jack as a gay man, I somehow didn't expect this eagerness. Somehow he seemed like the Boy Scout next door type.
He pulled my dick toward him and started licking, then opening up to suck me. Immediately I knew what I'd been missing. No disrespect to my wife, but she didn't suck me like this. None of my girlfriends before her had ever sucked me like this. Jack Grant was skilled and wildly enthusiastic and supremely confident as he worshiped my cock. Up and down, giving slight twists with his fist at the base as his mouth worked me in sloppy suction.
"God, yes," I hissed. In my mind, I knew this was fucking wrong, but I'd not experienced sex in so long. This was an amazing way to break the dry spell.
The blow job got better. As Jack worked me more and more, he let go of his hand, using it to massage my nuts instead, as he just started going down on me. He gulped, and I was experiencing my first deep throat. Ever.
The sensation and the vision of Jack taking me to the hilt had me on the way to cumming. "Fuck!" I hissed. Hopefully not too loud.
Jack moaned around my pulsing dick. The vibrations of the hum is what set me off.
"I'm...!" I started to warn. But I was already firing off. Jack grunted excitedly around my ejaculation, swallowing it as he pulled off some. Even the movement of his mouth and lips up my shaft added to my orgasm. He nursed the dribbles and offered me a towel to wipe off. He'd done this kind of thing before.
Guilt kicked in after, even in my drunkenness. But I accepted a ride home from Jack. And I accepted a notepad page with his number and name on it. His last name was Grant.
It took me two weeks to build up the nerve or horniness to call him. But meeting up was surprisingly easy. Jack made it easy. I stopped by on the way to the base the following morning and got my cock sucked again. In turn, I offered to suck him. That surprised the Lieutenant. Sucking didn't faze me though. I'd done it some back in my Academy days. I was rusty, but I enjoyed the act and more than that I enjoyed giving Jack pleasure in return. Least I could do.
It was a whirlwind of an affair. Five months, and intense. Most weekdays I'd stop by his place in the morning. I told myself it was a physical and emotional release I needed. It was. That didn't excuse it, but Jack seemed to take everything I'd pent up. He made me feel alive. It was the classic married affair, I suppose.
I took more than I gave. I just didn't have it in me to give. But I learned about Jack in our conversations. He was a nice guy who deserved better.
Jack was the first man I fucked. I was running errands that day, and we had a little extra time. So we made conversation and made out and stripped down. Jack lubed me up and lifted his legs. My size made me apprehensive, but once I worked my way in, Jack told me to go for it. Then he told me to go harder. And harder. That was a mind-fuck, it was so good. I'd never had sex like that. Physical and powerful. It was the opposite of sex with a woman, maybe that's why Jack felt safe to me.
The man seemed amused at how much I’d enjoyed it. "I'm into that, you know," he said, referring to the harder sex and running his hand along my chest in the afterglow. "With the right man."
"Who's the right man?" I asked him.
Without missing a beat he gave me an earnest look with his green eyes and replied, "A man with more authority than me."
I actually boned up again right then and there. Jack's eyes went wide when he noticed it. We kissed hungrily and I mounted him for a second time. The second round wasn't as hard, but when he called me Commander mid-fuck, I came. Jack was close behind.
Lieutenant Grant loved my cock. I guess men felt more open to express how much the size was a turn on. He had to beg off a fuck once, but otherwise was a pro at taking me. And I was enjoying a male body, how different it felt, the hair, the hard muscle and the warmth. I asked Jack one day if I could just hold him after sex. It was messed up. He didn't mind.
I knew he was falling in love with me, the whole person, not just my rank or my cock or the fact I was forbidden fruit. But I couldn't stop going over to his place. It was the first time I'd not done the careful thing for my Navy career, but it didn't matter. I never got caught.
We sidestepped the emotions the best we could and let sex take front and center. Jack felt me out and admitted he was into light BDSM. He told me about his gay experiences, some positive, some less so. We tried bondage, and the first time I stayed in uniform the whole time. It was very hot for me, but Jack's cum was particularly explosive. We were hooked.
The rough sex let me channel every shitty emotion I had in my daily life. Jack asked me to use a belt on him one morning. That day, I was the one with the explosive cum.
I knew I couldn’t keep up the affair. I wanted to let Jack have his chance to fuck me while we still saw each other. So he patiently took my anal virginity. It felt good, but that act didn’t mean as much to me as it did to Jack. I felt bad that I didn’t feel the intense emotion he did, but I felt a bond with the man and was glad to give him that experience.
Carol took a turn for the worst. I rehearsed everything I was going to tell Jack when I showed up at his house. I didn't have to give the speech I'd prepared. Jack knew from the look on my face. He was stoic as hell. He said he still wanted to be friends if that was OK. I told him we'd see. But deep down I knew we'd made a real connection. I had officer buddies, but with Jack Grant I felt like I could just be Robert, not Commander McGrath. Or Bob, as Jack called me. I didn't let anyone else call me that.
I knew I'd made the right decision. The last months of Carol's life were misery, and I held it together for the boys.
Jack came to the funeral. He held back in the rear of the service. I was glad he came.
I saw the Lieutenant on base eventually. Cordial yet friendly. Like that first night. He was still in love with me, but I was in a different place. We made small talk. He asked if I wanted to meet for drinks sometimes. "Just drinks," he assured me.
So we struck up a platonic friendship. Jack had seen me at my worst, and I'd seen him at his most vulnerable.
I helped him with his Navy career. Not pulling strings but acting as a mentor. He helped me out as I adjusted to life as a widower father. It felt wrong introducing Jack to my sons, but Jack was great with them. I knew he'd wanted kids when he was younger then resigned himself that it wasn't going to happen.
It's fair to say we became best friends, but I knew the inevitable would come. "Bob, I've decided to take an opportunity in San Diego," he told me one day. I didn't know he'd been seeking out a transfer. He described the new role, as if he had to convince me.
"Sounds great," I said. "I'll miss you here in Norfolk," I added truthfully.
He gave a slight wince. Trying to be stoic but not succeeding. "You know why I can't stay here," he said.
"I know," I said. "I'm sorry I can't be more for you, Jack."
"I never expected you to, Bob."
"I know," I replied. "Still..."
He sighed. With a quieter voice, he added, "I can't seem to go for the right men."
"You will, Jack," I said.
"You're too much of a fucking optimist, Commander." Where before he'd call me that only in the bedroom, now he reserved my title for playful comments like these.
"Maybe," I conceded. "Doesn't make me wrong."
Jack left the following month. He left me a personal card with a simple inscription. "To my favorite optimist. Don't change, Bob."
