The Admiral’s Son

Evan was only the Admiral’s son, but his naval base was always full of seamen.

He opened his eyes. Where was he? Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. What was cold and running down his side. He ran his hand over his chest and down his stomach to where the cold was dripping.

There was day light behind the closed curtains. He wondered what the time it was?

His lips were chaffed, he touched them. He remembered all those sailors. Rough sailors, horny sailors, eager sailors, demanding sailors, so many sailors missing the touch and caress of home. Evan smiled.

His belly button pooled with white jizz, overflowing just a little over his flat stomach, with its line of hair up the middle to his chest, running down over the side of his torso in one line of clear fluid, dripping onto the carpet.

His stomach was wet and sticky. He couldn't help but smile again, he could feel his cheeks crease. He felt more than a little satisfied with himself.

10% of men are homos, thought Evan, he felt entitled to use that term as he was one, a homo. He liked the term, he liked it when rough types spat it as an insult. "You fucken homo!" They were the guys who usually pushed Evan's head down the hardest onto their heaving excitement. Evan laughed to himself at the thought. 

"My wife doesn't understand me," how many times had Evan heard that? 

35% of men engage in same sex activity. Unmitigated sluts, thought Evan.

I don't care about your girlfriend, your wife, or your four year old fucken daughter, thought Evan. I'm just about to jizz down the back of your throat, handsome.

Evan had tested out the Base and had, in fact, found the percentage to be some what true. 35%, increasing exponentially if you add drugs and liquor. Liquor, he thought, that was something his grandmother would have said.

Evan got to his feet. He found his shirt over the back of the couch, he seemed to remember it slipping off when that over enthusiastic petty officer had him bent over the furniture the way he did. 

Your husband fucked me up the arse raw, sweet heart. What do you think about that? He was good at it too.

Evan pulled his shirt on and his jeans. He found his jacket and slipped that on too. He found his shoes, but not his socks. He wondered what happened to his socks?

He walked around the room with a limp, he laughed to himself, he was lucky it was only a limp that he had. His undies stuck uncomfortably up the crack in his arse, he tugged at them. He winced, he was sore. He found his bag, almost as an after thought, and he put it over his head.

He farted. He wanted to let one rip but he stopped himself just in time and gently let it out, he didn't want to slime the inside of his undies with that Lieutenant's cum, he laughed to himself, the admiral and the rear admiral's loads - they had, of course, joke about Evan being the rear admiral - he had a way to get home with cream pie jocks.

He switched off the light and closed the door behind him. He tugged at his undies again. He limped off down the path. He laughed to himself, he was glad he hadn't ridden his bike, the way he was feeling he thought he might take the seat and half the frame if he sat on it.

The sun was shining. Where was he? Yarraville. The street seemed relatively empty. Evan felt pretty pleased with himself. He crossed the road and headed to the train station. He was glad he didn't drive, he has no idea what his blood would show up if he got stopped and tested. He felt okay though, but PT was really the most relaxing way to travel, post slutout. He chuckled to himself at the thought of that label.

He needed a drink, he had his PrEp with him, he wanted to take it. There was a milk bar, he headed over the street to it.
Just before he entered the building, he squeezed out a fart, you know as you do so it clears from your body by the time you are in a confined space with others. 

"Poooop." 

"Oh, fuck it," he mumbled.

How much cum just slid out of his arse Evan was unsure, but as he entered the shop the warm patch it had made in the arse of his jocks pretty quickly turned cold and wet. He felt like he was walking like a girl in too high heels as he entered the shop.

There were plastic strips over the door, very old school, Evan hadn't seen those for years, not since he was a kid. The shop was crammed with merchandise, and it smelled of home cooking. The floor was covered in lino squares, alternating in yellow and green.

The very disinterested chick behind the counter had washed out green hair and piercings through her nose and mouth. She leant against the back counter where the cash register was, picking at her black painted finger nails, gazing at Evan through her fringe.

"Bottled water?" Evan asked. 

"The fridge down the back," said the girl in monotone.

Evan got back to the counter and put the bottle on the counter.

"You approaching this day from the wrong end?" asked the girl.

"Wadda ya mean?" asked Evan.

"Well, I'm sorry buddy, but it is 8am and if you are really gonnna make me say it, you look like crap."

"I just need a drink," said Evan. "Oh, and I need to take my pills."

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

"What?"

"That you are up late, rather than getting up early."

"Do you always talk to your customers like this?"

"Only the..." She hesitated. A hint of a smile flashed across her face momentarily. "Cute ones."

Evan believed she was flirting with him. "So you don't get too many people in here..."

"We do alright."

"Does the washed out green fringe work for you?" Evan knew he was just being a bitch.

"Like... how?" she asked. Her words we faltering.

"With the boys?"

"Why? Does your "up all night" work for you?" she said.

"What?"

"With the boys?" she said. Evan felt kind of pointedly, she must have thought he was trying to hide it. He wasn't, of course, but he wondered what made her suspect.

"What makes you think I make it with boys?"

"Just the way you said it."

"Said what?"

"Boys," she said. "I straight guy would have said guys."

"But, I was talking about you."

"I know."

Evan put his phone on the counter. He liked this girl immediately  something about her, her "not give a shit" attitude, he thought. She was like him, he could see it in her.

"So the boys?"

"You tell me," she said.

"No, your boys, how do they like the green hair."

"I do alright."

He took his PrEp pills out of his bag. He squeezed two out of their silver foil and pushed them into his mouth.

"What are they?" she said. "Pick me ups? Nodos?"

"E's," said Evan.

"Since when do e's come in blister packs?" she said. "What are they really?"

"Men's multi..."

"Don't tell me, I don't care," she said. She shrugged. "But don't give me shit."

"They are my AIDS pills."

Her eyes widened just momentarily, but she was too cool to really let on, but Evan saw it. "You've got AIDS," she said.

"No," said Evan. "And this is why." He put the open bottle to his mouth and took a swig of the water.

"Where do you come from?" she said.

"Fitzroy."

The girl laughed. "No." She laughed again. "What planet are you from."

"Planet fun."

"What are you like telling somebody you don't know that you take AIDS drugs?"

Evan lent in closer. "It must have been the ice I smoked."

"Oh get out," she shrieked. "Who are you?"

"You're funny," said Evan. She was, she had a child-like sense of surprise about her. 

She dropped the volume of her voice. "What are drugs like?"

"Drugs? They are great," said Evan. "They are great if you take them to have fun, any other reason and they may be problematic."

"Don't they kill you?"

"Nah, that's just the christians and the politicians talking," said Evan. "People who don't know what they are talking about."

"So why are there so many drug addicts?"

"Because they didn't take drugs for fun."

"What did they take them for then?"

"Probably to take away the pain of their childhood," said Evan. "The pain of failure, the pain of not being loved, or not being given a shit about. That never works. Only happy people should take drugs."

"Happy people?" She sounded doubtful.

"Yeah, happy people. Absolutely," said Evan. "The new generations find out that drugs are fun and there is this big party going on every weekend, which the police and the pollies try to shut down."

"What are they like?"

"Fanbloodytastic!" said Evan. "They are fun. People haven't been taking them for thousands of years for no reason."

"I wanna try them."

"You should."

"With you."

Evan laughed. "With me?"

"Oh come on, why not?" she said. "Take me out of here. You are the most interesting thing to come in here all year... ever!"

"I don't know you. You might hate me. I'm selfish and a complete..."

"It's because I don't have a cock, isn't it?"

Evan opened his mouth to talk, thought about what she had said and he hesitated. She was probably right.

"See," she said. "I'm right, aren't I. All men..."

"No," said Evan. "You're... you're cute, I like you. What's your name?"

"Josie," said Josie. She picked up Evan's phone. 

"What are you doing?"

"Here's my number." She tapped on the glass screen of his phone. "Call me. Take me out."

Evan gazed at her, wondering how he got himself into this. Is this really what was meant to happen this morning.

"I've got no one to go out with," said Josie. "It is a very sad story..."

Evan picked up his phone. "I've got to go."

"You're not going to call me, are you?"

Evan backed away from the counter. "Sure, I'll call you."

Josie looked sad, as he left. She didn't believe him, she doubted he'd call. She was probably right, thought Evan. He stepped out into the day light and headed to the train station.