Boys of Aurora

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is coincidental. The venue is fictional and any resemblance to actual bases, locations, is coincidental.

This story takes place in 1976 Canada and reflects the mores, traditions, customs, etc., of the times. I urge all of those who read this story to remember that what is "politically correct" today, was not thought of back then. If you are Lib-Left, politically correct and have jumped on the bandwagons of whatever causes are the fads of the month, please do not continue past this point. This also applies the so-called "Religious" Right and "Moral" Majority. I respectfully remind you that the "Good Book" also contains proscriptions, restrictions, dos and don'ts that I don't see or hear any of you thumping bibles about. Write me, I'll be glad to give you some excellent web sites. To all the anti-this and anti-that, Bible Thumpers, Libertarians and the ACLU, the bankrupt and increasingly irrelevant United Nations, please do not send me e-mails espousing whatever cause you're touting. I have no time for claptrap.

As this work contains scenes of explicit sexual acts of a homosexual nature, if such erotica offends you, please move on to a tamer site. If your mainstay in life is Bible-thumping cant, please move on. If you are not of legal age to read, possess or download writings of an erotic nature, or if possession, reading, etc., is illegal where you live, please move on.

This story is written in an age without worry, and as such unprotected sex is practiced exclusively. I urge all of you to NEVER engage in sexual acts without proper protection. The life you save will be your own.

I will respond to all e-mails (except flames). Please write me at my home address: paradegi@rogers.com

The Boys of Aurora - Chapter 32

At 1930 the DJ cranked up the volume and the voice of Linda Ronstadt singing Blue Bayou flooded over the barracks and buildings of the Spit. The cadets finished their toilettes, smoothing slicked down hair, adding another splash of after shave, and generally making certain that they were respectable and acceptable to the GIRLS. In the Gunners Barracks, Brian looked on as the other boys checked their mates out and assured each other that they were definitely sex on the hoof, and irresistible to those of the female persuasion. Brian had no interest in females and, while he was planning on attending the barbeque, he saw no reason to shave or splash cologne on his body. He lay on his bunk, laughing inwardly at Chad and Nick and Anson and the others, as they chattered and boasted of what they would do once the girls had been put "in the mood". He noted that Dylan was one of the first to brag that he had a load all ready and a gun to fire it from. This remark evoked great laughter from Dylan's messmates and a studied sneer from Brian, who was of the opinion that any loads from their "guns" would only be fired if Mrs. Fist and her daughters made up the Firing Party.

Disgusted at the blatant display of testosterone in the Gunners Barracks, Brian left and walked over to the Gunroom, to check out the action there. As was customary he knocked on the Gunroom door, waiting for permission to enter. When there was no reply he pounded louder, and was rewarded with a bellowed, "Jesus Christ, can't a man take a leak in peace?"

Brian stepped back as the Gunroom door was flung open. It was Harry, who smiled when he saw that it was Brian come to call. "If you're selling Girl Guide cookies, I ain't buyin'," he said with a grin. Harry motioned for Brian to enter the mess. "Not going to the bun fight?" asked Harry, noticing Brian's casual attire.

Brian shook his head. "I'm having an early night in," he said as his eyes scanned the length of the mess. "The Twins about?"

Harry began his final preparations for attending the party. The Twins, he explained as he carefully parted his hair, were ashore, having dinner with their parents. Tyler and Val had gone ashore with Tyler's folks. Fred's bunk was empty as he was dining ashore as well, having dinner with his uncle and Captain Lotbiniere.

Harry, who would have rather stayed in, had an image to protect. He prattled on, giving Brian a lecture on how best to connect with the ladies. A shower, a splash or ten of sure fuck, and clean clothes were all part of the bait. He also stressed clean undies.

"In case you have an accident and have to be taken to hospital?" Brian asked, a slight, sneering tone to his voice.

"Of course not," growled Harry. "Ya gotta be clean to pick up the girls. They like guys who are clean."

What Brian did not know was that Harry was playing the Game. He would go to the party. He would dance, he might even have a beer, but Harry would not be strolling into the night with anyone except Todd. Tonight Harry would do what was expected of a normal, red-blooded Canadian Male. He would let the girls slobber over him; he would pretend to slobber back. Harry would play the Game.

Two Strokes and Thumper had also showered and changed. Like Harry, they were also playing the Game, although not for the same reasons. Two Strokes, his ill-fated experience of last year still fresh in his memory, would have much rather stayed in the Gunroom and gone to bed early. He was only going to the party because Todd and Cory were ashore, and Thumper wanted to go. It was either that or volunteer to join Fred on the Duty Watch when he returned aboard.

Thumper was going to the barbeque because he had heard that some of the girls "put out". Except for the one blow job, which he had received from the mysterious night visitor, he was a sexual neophyte and had convinced himself that getting laid was something he was supposed to have happen to him. He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to get laid, at least not the way Two Strokes had, but if he were going to get laid, he reasoned, he had a better chance at the barbeque than at home, where none of the girls he knew put out anything, except the cat.

Chris and Jon were also playing the Game. They knew that it was far better for them to go to the party, dance, and generally show that they were interested in girls than remain in the Gunroom. They would stay for a while, dance, and maybe flirt a little. Before they left Chris made sure that the key to the Ropewalk was in the pocket of his shorts.

Nicholas very carefully showered and put on clean clothing, including undies. He and Andre would also attend the party. They would stay for a reasonable period and then leave quietly, hopefully unnoticed. There was something that Nicholas wanted to give Andre. Before he left the Gunroom he made certain that the key to Cabin 5 was in his pocket.

In the Chiefs Mess, Mark and Tony deemed it politic to attend the barbeque. They were not all that well known to the Canadians and planned on putting in an appearance and then going ashore for a while. Nathan was scrubbed and powdered long since and had disappeared in the direction of the Dockyard.

Next door, in the Petty Officers Mess, Mal cleaned the Monster twice and put on his most conservative pair of Jockeys. Willy and Jack showered, shaved what little facial hair they had managed to grow, and drowned themselves in a particularly foul smelling aftershave. Mike and Phillip, the evidence of their recent lovemaking showered away, were also attending the party. It was either that or stay in and watch Little Big Man, who was lying on his bunk wearing only tighty-whiteys, fiddling with the knob of his dick.

Brian joined Harry as he walked toward the beach. As they passed the New Entry Barracks they were almost run over by a horde of Sea Puppies, who were more interested in the aroma of barbequed meats that they were in the allure of females.

Blue Bayou ended and Disco Duck rent the air and as they walked slowly toward the beach Brian watched as the barracks buildings emptied of cadets, the boys laughing and chattering their boyish nonsense and excitement of having real live girls on board.

The DJ is playing the wrong song, mused Brian as his feet touched the sandy beach. He should be playing Games People Play, because just as some of the boys, himself included, were playing the Game, so too were the girls. Brian decided that tonight he would take his pillow and blankets down to the beach. He doubted that he would be in the mood to listen to 40 frustrated gunners beating off once the party had ended.

Simon was not all that enthusiastic about partying. He was only going because of the amount and variety of food on offer, and because Joey and Randy would be there. He couldn't dance, and didn't want to dance with a girl anyway. He had showered and changed only because he hoped that he and the two young cooks would be able to sneak away to someplace quiet and private, like the galley lounge.

When Simon arrived, the beach was humming with the quiet chatter of the cadets as they waited impatiently for the bus from town to arrive. The serving wenches at the high school had been asked to invite their friends, and a full busload was expected. Simon looked around and saw Randy and Joey sitting at a table with Chef and the other cooks. There was a full complement of officers and instructors manning the barbeques and the cadets were excused duty. Simon did not see the Twins, but he did see The Phantom, who was manning the long table set aside to hold the sodas and fruit juices that were deemed the only suitable drinks at a cadet function. What Simon did not know was that The Phantom was also guarding a carefully camouflaged cooler full of cans of beer, which he had smuggled onto the beach.

Simon was amused to see that the tables set up earlier were more or less occupied by the same groups and divisions as in the Mess Hall. The gunners sat together, as did the stokers and the signalmen. The Bugle Band had their own table, as did the Band, with a special place reserved for Harry, who was bouncing around, chucking shit at everybody. Off to one side sat The Gunner, Andy, Kyle and Dave Eddy. Much against their will they had been detailed off as Beach Patrol, their avowed purpose to ensure that virgin boy cadets remained virgin, and assumed virgin serving wenches and friends left AURORA as they had arrived, with their knickers up and their reputations intact.

Chef had set up what he called a comfort station. It was near enough to The Phantom's not so carefully hidden supply of beer so that Chef could keep an eye on cadet consumption, yet far enough away that few would notice that the innocuous thermos bottle he kept close at hand contained more than hot chocolate. Chef was feeling nostalgic and maudlin and had gathered around his lambs. Kevin, who could have been with the gunners, sat close to Ray, and when he thought that no one was looking, ran his hand up and down his lover's thigh. Randy and Joey had seen Simon come onto the beach and while their first instinct was to join him, they decided to stay with Chef a little longer. The Litany, released from scullery duty, grumbled and snuffled impatiently as they waited for the bus from town to arrive and ignored Chef's warnings of unrequited lust leading to the sin of Onan and that they'd all have to wear spectacles.

None of the boys had a clue as to who or what an Onan was and they did not want to ask Chef for an explanation for fear that he would launch into one of his rambling lectures. They turned to the only other adult who might possibly give them an explanation that made any sense: The Gunner.

The Gunner had stopped by the table to partake of a little of the "comfort" that Chef was offering from his thermos. He was not at all anxious to relate the biblical condemnation of Onan over spilling his seed - he doubted that any of the cadets knew what "seed" was in the first place - and he was trying to think of a polite way to shut Chef up and also satisfy the boys' curiosity when he was saved by a shout. The bus from town had turned onto the Spit.

Randy and Joey sat back and watched a frenzied exodus take place as the boys rushed up the inclined beach and crowded toward the roadway. Both of the younger boys snickered as they watched the older cadets - the Chiefs and Petty Officers from the YAG Squadron for the most part - as they smoothed back their hair for the thirtieth time, tucked the tails of their gunshirts into their shorts, and generally preened and strutted.

The bus ground to a halt on the roadway and the door opened. The first of the girls - there were a total of forty all told - peered out to see what appeared to be a hundred or more males, all looking nervous and all of them with silly grins plastered on their faces.

The DJ cranked up the volume and You Should Be Dancing, the Bee Gees latest disc, blared forth. The girls, some giggling at the prospect of so many BOYS, some haughty and not at all impressed, and at least two determined to show the boys a good time, exited the bus.

The first thing that Randy and Joey noticed about the girls was that most of them were blondes, or at least had blond hair. The second thing they noticed was that just as the boys were more or less in uniform - dark blue shorts, gunshirts, and barefoot - so were the girls. They all wore tight, ass-hugging, brightly coloured shorts that showed every panty line. About half wore bikini tops, while the rest wore either a white T-shirt (worn with a bra) or a light, pastel coloured or white blouse, tied just under their boobs. Both boys had to admit that if they were into girls they would have been impressed for there was not an ugly duckling in the bunch.

The horde of boys parted to allow the girls to descend to the beach where they hovered around the drinks table whispering and comparing the boy-flesh on offer. The boys gathered in small groups opposite, whispering and debating the merits of the girl-flesh on offer. The Bee Gees having failed, the DJ quickly reached for Old Reliable. For decades before the onset of the current "disco beat", the sensual rhythm of this recording had been causing hormones to flow and adrenaline to rush in teenagers at every gig. With almost extraordinary reverence the DJ placed the well worn record onto the turntable and the golden voice of the King emoting Heartbreak Hotel poured forth from the speakers. Since it was almost heresy not to dance to the King, the boys, led by Killian, took the first tentative steps. Before very long all the girls had partners and once again the King reigned supreme.

"Ya know, Randy," said Joey as he eyed the slowly dancing couples, "Most of those guys beat off every night thinking about girls, and now that they've got girls they have to treat them like Chef makes us treat those damned plates of the Admiral's."

Randy glanced with great disinterest at the dancers. "The guys want to get laid. Maybe it's not polite to grab 'em and throw 'em down on the ground and start humping 'em."

Joey giggled. "Girls have to get into the mood before they fuck. They want to be wooed."

"Wooed?"

"You know, treated nice, told how sexy they are, how beeyootiful they are. All that sort of crap." Joey rolled his eyes expressively. "I think a guy has got to work to get into a girl's pants."

Randy snorted. "As if any of those girls are going to put out!"

"What do you mean by that? Two Strokes got laid last year by one of the serving wenches. And Aaron told me that his brother got a hand wipe. Look at that girl in the red shorts. The only thing between her and Gavin's hardon is his shorts!" Randy regarded the dancing couple. Gavin was sort of rubbing the front of his shorts against the girl, and they were awful close, and there was a pronounced bulge in the Petty Officer's gym shorts. "She's teasing him and all he's going to get out of her is a mess in his undies," Randy said disdainfully.

"The voice of experience," sniffed Joey.

"I've been to enough dances to know what's what," replied Randy forcefully. "Those girls from town don't know any of our guys. Do you really think that any of them are going to lie down and spread for guys they don't know, and only met tonight?"

"Some of them will," insisted Joey. "If the girl who did Two Strokes is back she'll be looking for dick. And the girl who gave Aaron's brother the hand job might be back and . . ."

"Maybe two out of forty," said Randy with an airy wave of his hand, emulating Chef's dismissive mannerism. "At least you and me will be getting some action later on and if Simon is horny, which he probably is, maybe we should invite him to spend the night in the lounge with us. I really don't feel like listening to the grunting and puffing you know is gonna be going on when the guys go to bed." Joey's eyes swept the landside of the beach. He nudged Randy and motioned toward two cadets sitting high up the slope. "Maybe Simon will have other plans," he said with a rascally grin.

Simon had joined the other Sea Puppies as they walked to the beach but did not join them when they all sat in a group near the waters edge. He knew that sooner or later Joey and Randy - who were sitting at a table with Chef and the other cooks - would join him so he chose a spot near the crest of the beach. He watched as the other cadets chattered and checked their watches and wandered aimlessly up and down the beach, waiting for the bus from town to arrive. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud as the bus arrived, the girls stepped down and the boys began wriggling and squirming like five-year-olds who had to pee. He sat on the crest of the gently sloping beach, watching as the mating rituals continued and listening to the music. The DJ played mostly newer discs, with a few of the hit tunes from last year and the year before thrown in for variety. Not that Simon could tell the difference as much of the music being played was loud and atonal, mostly loud twangs on guitars and even louder bangs on the drums. Still, it appealed to the cadets and their guests and the party coalesced and before too long everybody was up and dancing.

As the sun sank beyond the western mountains Val and Tyler came onto the beach. Father and Number One also showed up, dressed in banyan rig of shorts, leather sandals and violently coloured short-sleeved shirts. They took up post behind the barbeques and much to Simon's delight immediately got into a row with Chef, who took exception to their loudly expressed opinion that beer was the secret to barbecuing the perfect steak. Chef retorted that he had not spent all afternoon marinating the meat (which he hadn't, but that was beside the point) to have two commissioned clowns ruin a secret recipe that had been passed down for generations.

The Gunner, together with The Phantom, stood to one side and listened, sipping beer. Sometime during the argument the bonfire was lit and the beach was filled with cheery firelight. The cadets ate, danced, or mooned at the girls, and the party continued on.

Simon was content just sitting and watching. He kept an eye on Joey and Randy, who seemed to be involved in some sort of deep conversation. The Eagles' One of These Nights was blaring from the tall upright speakers and Simon watched, an amused smile on his face, as the cadets and their "Lady Guests" spun, gyrated and jumped to the ear-shattering noise. Freddy Fender crooning Before The Next Teardrop Falls replaced the Eagles.

At first Simon had continued to look over to where Randy and Joey were sitting, remembering their time at the small, secluded beach, and what they had done together. Last night in the galley lounge was still fresh in his mind and he felt a definite stirring in his Jockeys. The stirring grew as his sharp eyes riveted on the cadets dancing and lounging at the edge of the ring of light, particularly the older boys, the front of whose shorts seemed to wiggle and bounce as they danced. Some of the senior cadets had some very interesting bulges in the dark blue shorts they all wore. What he did not know was that across the beach two other sets of eyes were taking in exactly the same scenery.

Randy and Joey had ringside seats. Before them were a hundred boys, most of them uninhibited and all of them unconsciously preening and strutting, showing off their butts and bulges.

Randy, who was the more adventuresome of the pair, rubbed his chin. "Ya know, Joey, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to, you know, do one of those older guys."

Joey raised his eyebrows and then giggled. He remembered seeing The Phantom and Todd naked together on the small beach. He also remembered that their bodies were flushed and both of them had been terribly embarrassed when discovered. He snickered. "Well, yeah. I wouldn't have minded with Phantom, or Todd. They were doing it before we found them."

Randy giggled. "Tell me about it!" He looked thoughtful a moment. "They all do it, I think. They just keep it quiet. Phantom and Todd didn't expect us to find them."

Joey nodded. "There's a couple of guys I know are doing it, and I don't mean Ray and Kevin. Sandro and that Nathan guy did it, and I think Greg and Petty Officer Collyer." He nodded firmly. "Yeah, I think you're right. They all want to get their nut so . . ." He shrugged. "They do it."

Randy looked over the dancing crowd. He looked at Chief Thornton, who was dancing with a dark-haired beauty and wondered if the Chief did it, and who he was doing it with. Chief Thornton was a dickhead, but he was also over six feet tall, had a firm muscular body and Randy knew, from personal observation, that the Chief had a fair-sized dick and balls.

Randy scanned the crowd and saw Killian dancing with a blonde. Killian was taller than Chief Thornton, as light haired as the Chief was dark, slimmer, with a peaches and cream complexion that never tanned, a clean cut, neat appearing boy who caused heads to turn, drawing more than his share of admiring glances from both men and women whenever he went into town. Killian was a beauty and the respectable bulge in his shorts seemed to be getting bigger as he danced closer to his partner.

Randy sighed quietly at the two superb examples of male beauty writhing and gyrating to the music. A glimmer of an idea began to form in his mind as his sharp eyes scanned the dancers and the small groups of cadets sitting on the sloping beach that led up to the roadway. He saw that directly across from where Joey and he were sitting Eion Reilly was giggling at something that Nathan was whispering in his ear. Eion's legs were spread and the whiteness of his tighty-whiteys was clearly visible. Randy giggled.

Joey looked in the direction of Randy's gaze and snickered. "Wanna bet that Eion finds out what it is to be a boy tonight?"

Randy shook his head. Eion was short, dark-haired, husky, and had a sparkling white smile. He looked to be no older than twelve or thirteen - he was close to 18 - and had a little boy lost look about him that was appealing. "Too bad it's with Nathan," Randy said with a frown. "He'll just fuck Eion and move on."

Joey glanced obliquely at Randy. "Would you do him?"

"Nathan? Are you nuts? The guy is a cock hound first class and . . ."

"No, not him," spat Joey hurriedly. "Eion."

Randy thought about that for a moment. "Yeah, I would. Would you?"

"Only if you were with me and said it was okay. I wouldn't touch another guy without you being okay with it."

Randy knew that he was in love with Joey, and that Joey was in love with him. Nothing could change the way they felt about each other, which was demonstrated when they had had their little affair with Simon. Still, some of the older cadets were hunks, and Randy definitely wanted to experiment with other boys. He nodded. "Eion is nice. What about Killian?"

Joey breathed slowly and grinned. "Yeah. I wouldn't say no to Killian. What about . . . Chief Thornton?" he ventured.

Randy looked at the Chief and slowly nodded his head. "He's nice looking, and he's got a nice dick."

"How do you know that?" asked Joey suspiciously.

"I saw it when we went swimming after the Range Shoot. His dick is almost as long as Harry's, but not as thick. Killian's is smaller and nice and pink."

"But Thornton's not as big as Kevin. He has a really great lookin' dick. No wonder Ray is always smiling," returned Joey.

"Ray's got a nice dick, too, a little small, but real nice. Now, the best-looking dick I've seen is Phantom's. And maybe Todd's. They're pretty much the same, you know," replied Randy enthusiastically. "What I also like about them is that they have real low-hanging clangers."

Joey began to giggle. He leaned over and whispered. "Somebody who has a good-sized dick is Rob. I bet it's bigger than Harry's when it's angry."

They heard a high-pitched giggle and turned to look to where the Litany was sitting, entertaining a quartet of laughing girls. Randy winked at Joey. "Now those four, I bet they do it together. Matthew and John are pretty tight, and I know Mark and Luke are like brothers."

"Like our brothers?" asked Joey, reminding Randy of the times both their brothers had tried to see what was under their Fruit of the Looms. "Well, not like your brother 'cause he's not circumcised like they are, but you know what I mean."

"Well, I've seen their morning woodies," said Randy. "They're all alike but yeah, we could add them to our list."

"What list?" asked Joey, confused.

"A list of guys we'd go with. Not that we really would 'cause lets face it, none of them would do it. They're not like us, and they don't fool around."

"More's the pity," said Joey with a frown. "Still, we can wish, can't we?"

Randy collapsed, giggling. "We can make a wish list. A guy never knows."

Unlike Joey and Randy, Simon's gaze did not wander from boy to boy. For reasons that he could not fathom he continuously found his eyes drifting more and more toward a slim figured boy who was now dancing uncomfortably with a short, shapely brunette.

Calvin Hobbes' strawberry blond hair sparkled in the light cast by the flames of the roaring bonfire of driftwood that had been built close to the water's edge. His skin, what there was visible below the legs of his shorts and the arms of his gunshirt, was like no other boy's, clear, white, almost translucent flesh made golden by the rays of the sun, a skin tone that was at once evocative and expressive, made more beautiful by a faint flush that crept across his lightly freckled face.

Calvin was thirteen and, while still growing and forming, a beautiful boy. His legs and arms bore no trace of prepubescent fat, and were pleasingly muscled. Calvin's cute facial features were at once masculine and firm, and his eyes, a wondrous shade of blue that touched on violet, flashed with an inner strength and fire. When he turned, affording Simon a direct view of his firm, shapely, magnificently proportioned ass, Simon's penis roared into a firm pole of aching flesh. Calvin had a bum that made Simon want to fall on his knees and worship Calvin's perfect, tight, round butt.

Without caring about public propriety, Simon slipped his hand into his undies and slowly rubbed the head of his throbbing organ. His eyes grew wider as he continued to salivate over the perfect, drop dead gorgeous boy who was being, by all appearances, manhandled and pawed by his dancing partner. The music being played was soft, low, and romantic and the girl kept pulling Calvin closer to her body and her hands kept drifting down to his ass, which she rubbed enticingly. Calvin pulled away, much to the young lady's displeasure, and tried to make his escape. The girl was quicker and she pulled him back, her hands groping Calvin's melon-like orbs as she ground her crotch into the front of the boy's shorts.

From his perch Simon could not hear, but he could see, what appeared to be a heated exchange of words between Calvin and the girl. He also saw the fleeting look of disgust that flashed across Calvin's brightly flushed face as he stomped away, and he heard the mocking laughter drifting over the soft chords of the music.

Much to Simon's surprise Calvin walked directly to where he was sitting. He quickly removed his hand from his underwear, wondering if Calvin was actually going to sit with him. Calvin had every intention of doing just that. He sat down beside Simon with a dust raising thud and glared at the girl as she disappeared into the crowd of boys surrounding the barbeque tables. "Bitch!" he growled low.

"Pardon?" Simon did not know what was more surprising, a cute boy like Calvin sitting beside him or being called a bitch.

Calvin saw the look on Simon's face and laughed pleasantly. "Not you," he said in a not-quite mature, tenor voice. He wrinkled his nose at the crowd. "Her!" He held out his hand. "M'name's Calvin. Calvin Hobbes."

"I, uh, I know," replied Simon hesitatingly as he shook Calvin's hand. "You were on the jetty with the Yeoman. You got the life jacket for Phantom."

Calvin sighed longingly. "Now there's a guy I would dearly like to know better." He grinned wickedly and his eyes sparkled with . . . lust? "That boy has one gorgeous ass!" Calvin deliberately looked down at Simon's behind. "So have you."

"I do?" Simon looked back and regarded his bum. He didn't think that there was anything special about it.

"Yeah, you do," replied Calvin. "I'm an ass man and I know a good ass when I see one." He lay back on the sand, resting on his elbows. "The only reason I did jetty duty was because sometimes the guys lose their shorts. Nothing like a good lookin' ass to get me going," he finished candidly.

Simon's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Is that why Harry called you a pervert?" he asked.

Calvin nodded. "He saw me looking at Phantom's bum. I think he was just jealous I wasn't looking at his bum."

"Harry has a nice bum," replied Simon as he cast an appraising glance down Calvin's reclining body. He was wondering what direction Calvin was taking this conversation. "And he owns the Pride of the Fleet, which looks nice but I really think that Phantom's is nicer. It's not as big but . . ."

Calvin's head snapped around. "You've seen Phantom? You've seen all of Phantom?" he asked, a note of eagerness in his voice.

"Well, yes, I have," replied Simon, more curious than ever. "His dick is really neat. Like I said, it's not too big, just right I think, and his balls hang real low."

"Damn and fuck!" cursed Calvin. He grinned sheepishly at Simon. "My friend, Robby Jensen, he's a friend of Phantom and he told me that Phantom has a real nice set on him."

Simon smiled at the memory of Phantom naked and all but whispered, "We went skinny dipping yesterday." Then he hastened to add, "Nothing happened." Simon did not want Calvin to think badly about Phantom. "Joey and Randy were there, and Todd. He's nice looking too."

Calvin moaned theatrically. "Jesus Christ! You get to see two of the best-looking guys around nekkid and all I got was a look at Phantom's bum! Fucking hell!"

"Well, you did see Phantom's bum," said Simon with a giggle. "You'll just have to be content with that."

Calvin grinned. "Yeah, I guess I will. My thrill for the summer."

Simon decided to probe a little. "You didn't get a thrill when you were dancing? I saw that girl rubbing herself against you. She sure wanted to jump your bones." His eyes drifted downward to Calvin's crotch.

Calvin saw where Simon was looking and raised his head. He deliberately looked at the respectable bulge in his shorts and then at the lump in Simon's shorts. "No harm in looking, Simon," he murmured with a grin.

Simon coloured. Then he sniggered as he wondered what treasure was hidden under Calvin's gym shorts. He could feel his penis stirring and beginning to lengthen.

"What's so funny?" asked Calvin. His eyes slid sideways and his gaze took in Simon's firm body. God, Simon was cute. As he watched, Simon, in an attempt to hide his growing boner, pulled his legs up, hugged them and rested his chin on his knees, in the process exposing his firm thighs and just a hint of the tighty-whiteys he was wearing underneath his shorts. Calvin moaned silently. God in heaven did guys in tight, white briefs turn him on.

Simon was trying to contain his excitement and control his throbbing penis. Being so close to Calvin had set his mind to reeling and wondering if the hints that the young signalman was making meant that he was interested in boys. If this was so, then why was he dancing so close with a girl? Well, she had been dancing close and Calvin was trying not to. Did this mean that Calvin liked both boys and girls? Curiouser and Curiouser! But then, when the girl had grabbed Calvin's bum and rubbed her crotch against his, he'd gotten all pissed off. Simon thought of his talk with The Phantom as they sat naked on the small, secluded beach and the teenager saying that you'd never know unless you ask. So Simon asked. "I just think that it's kind of funny you talking about guys' bums and dicks and you dance with girls," he probed. "It's sort of funny if you ask me."

Calvin's face tightened. "She asked me! I only danced with her because of my big brother Mikey!"

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, my doofus brother!" snarled Calvin. "The girl's name is Kathy and my big brother Mikey has been trying to get into her pants for eight months!" His voiced dripped with venomous anger as he continued. "I love him, and he loves me, but dammit, I don't see why I have to get rubbed all over just because he can't dip his wick in her!"

"Why does he bother if he knows he isn't going to get what he wants?" asked Simon. He couldn't recall either of his older brothers making demands on him whenever they struck out with one of their girlfriends. "I mean, you don't have to be nice to her, unless you want to."

"I don't," growled Calvin. "It's just that Mikey's 16 and a jock and he thinks that he has to score with the bimbi. Why he bothers? Fucked if I know. He knows that all he's going to get out of Kathy is a dry rub and his briefs full of warm Mikey cream!" He glowered at the girl of his brother's wet dreams. "He found out that she was coming tonight and called me and told me to treat her nice, so I did and she tried to put the moves on me." He shook his head. "I also wish he'd make up his mind!"

"How so?" Simon looked and saw that Calvin was visibly angry. "What does he have to make up his mind about?"

"Either he likes girls, or he likes me!" Calvin rolled on his side, his hand idly tracing circles in the sand. "Like I said, I love my brother. He's tall, and dark, and real handsome. He also has a dick on him that puts Harry to shame!"

"He does?" asked Simon, dumfounded. Nobody had a better, or bigger dick than Harry.

"He does," said Calvin. He looked up at Simon. "I saw the picture of Harry. His dick is what, four inches soft?"

Simon, who had seen the same picture, nodded. "About that, yes."

"Well, Mikey's is almost five inches soft. When a guy's dick gets hard it usually doubles in size and gets thicker by about half. Mikey has an eight-inch dick. I should know, he rubs it against me whenever he can!"

Simon swallowed and stared. The idea of having sex with his brothers was . . . disgusting. "You mean you and Mikey, you guys . . ."

"We fool around," admitted Calvin. "Always when he hasn't scored with one of his girls. He comes home all horned-up and gets into my bed. The next thing I know his dick is poking above the band of his undies and he's rubbing it up and down my butt crack. I really don't mind 'cause he always reaches around and rubs me through my briefs so we both get off."

Simon tried to hide his shock at Calvin's brazenness. "But . . . but he's your brother!"

"So?" asked Calvin calmly. "He's my brother, and I love him, and I want him to be happy. It's not like he tries to fuck me or anything." He shrugged. "Besides, I like it."

"You do?" breathed Simon. For some reason his dick was harder than it had ever been and was throbbing painfully. Could it be that he was getting turned on by the thought of Calvin and his brother having sex?"

"Yeah, I do. He's big, and a goof, and he is sorta clumsy but he's real gentle with me. He's never tried to do anything I wouldn't like. He likes to get his rocks off and I like helping him." He gave Simon a quizzical look. "Do you have brothers?"

Simon nodded. "Two, both older than me. They share a bedroom. I have my own room."

"Too bad," sympathised Calvin. "Sharing a room with your older brother, or brothers, has its advantages."

"I suppose so," replied Simon after some thought. Clement, his oldest brother was pretty good looking, as was Edmond. And they both had strong, firm bodies with dicks and balls to match. Suddenly the thought of sharing a room with them was not all that bad. "Come to think of it, I do hear some awfully funny sounds coming from their room at times."

Calvin giggled. "They're doing it."

"Maybe," said Simon reluctantly.

"There's no maybe about it," returned Calvin. "They're guys and guys like sex. If they ain't gettin' it from their girlfriends they're gettin' it from each other." He glared at the crowd of dancers. "They're all the same!"

"Brothers?"

Calvin snickered. "Them, too," he said and pointed with his chin. "Girls. They tease a guy and then when he's so hot his balls are about to melt they whine and say that they're good girls." He laughed loudly as he looked at Chief Thornton, who was dancing now with a tall, blonde girl. "Some of them, anyway."

Simon saw where Calvin was looking. "If she keeps doing what she's doing the Chief is going to get lucky."

Calvin nodded. "He's dancing with Louise Metcalfe. She fucks." His eyes shifted to another couple. Glenn Beuscher was dancing with an equally blonde girl. "Chief Beuscher is dancing with Amy Jensen. She sucks."

Simon did a double take and looked at Glenn's dancing partner. He wasn't all that current on the latest flavours of the month when it came to teenaged girls, but the girl that Glenn was dancing with was pretty, and dressed nicely in a pair of not too short cut-offs and a white blouse. "She's not that bad looking," he said.

Calvin almost choked trying to contain his glee at Simon's naiveté. "No, no," he managed between laughs. "Amy sucks cocks. She doesn't put out like Louise does. She sucks her date's cock but always makes him pull out of her mouth before he squirts." He snickered and pretended to gag. "I wonder if she makes him supply a hanky as well!"

Simon could not help but laugh at Calvin's remarks. There was something about the lightly tanned, glorious, strawberry-blond haired Calvin that Simon found fascinating, a quality that was masculine, yet fey, mercurial and brash, but also evocative and subtle. There was also Calvin's intoxicating, clean boy scent that whirled and reeled through Simon's brain. Suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted. And Calvin would not need to supply a hanky.

The two boys watched the tableau unfolding before their eyes. Glenn was talking, or singing along to the music, Simon was too far away to tell which. Nearby, Phillip Thornton had made his move and his hands had slipped down to cup Louise Metcalf's round behind. Her arms were draped around his neck and she was grinding her crotch slowly into the Chief's now huge bulge. As Simon and Calvin watched Louise's hand slid slowly down the Chief's chest to rest against the bulge in his shorts. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. Phillip nodded enthusiastically and then looked around for the Beach Patrol, which was sitting at Chef's table, sipping beer. He took Louise's hand and they walked away into the darkness.

Simon's eyes widened. "You were right. Chief Thornton is going to get lucky!"

Calvin nodded. "I hope he's got a bigger dick and more staying power than the poor guy she picked up last year." His eyes slid over to where Two Strokes and Thumper were sitting.

Simon saw where Calvin was looking and raised his eyebrows. "Thumper?" he asked incredulously.

Calvin laughed so hard his stomach ached. "Not him, Two Strokes!"

Randy and Joey witnessed the same scene that Simon and Calvin were watching. Unlike Simon and Calvin, however, the two young cooks were better informed as to who was going to get what from whom.

During a break in the music Randy had sidled over to the pop coolers and loitered, pretending to be looking for a cold Coke and eavesdropped as the three girls, whom he now knew as Louise, Amy and Kathy, chattered and expressed in giggling terms the relative merits of the cadets that they had been dancing with. Louise, it seemed, had narrowed the field of studs considerably, and was unable to make up her mind to go with the tall, dark, muscular Chief named Phillip, or the equally tall but blond and slim cadet named Killian. Kathy, who had been dancing most of the night, complained that none of the cadets had tickled her fancy, not even that little brat of a Calvin Hobbes, who was a fag anyway. She rather liked the looks of Killian, so Louise, who had seen the bulge in Phillip's shorts, gave Killian to Kathy. Amy, who was not about to put out (as she knew Louise would and Kathy might), thought that one of the cadets (it was Glenn), was cute, and worthy of her special charms, so opined that she just might go walking up the beach with him before the night was over. Disgusted, Randy returned to where Joey was sitting and reported everything that he had overheard.

When the music resumed the DJ spun a slow dance and the two boys sat back and watched as Kathy allowed Killian to dance with her. As the music and words of B.J. Thomas singing Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song (which Randy and Joey felt was entirely appropriate) flowed from the speakers, Killian's hands drifted down Kathy's body to rest lightly on her buttocks. Not to be outdone Kathy brought her hands down and cupped Killian's superb ass.

Randy snickered as he watched the young couple gyrating slowly. "Do you see what's happening?" he asked Joey, who nodded slowly.

Kathy was grinding her hips into Killian's crotch, which produced a most respectable bulge. He buried his head in the girl's neck and pulled her body as close to his as was possible. He began to move his hips ever so slightly upward in short, almost micro thrusts, obviously stimulating his roaring boner under his shorts and briefs. Kathy, who knew exactly what Killian was doing, buried her tongue in his ear and urged him on.

Randy and Joey also knew what was happening. They watched, wide-eyed, as Killian's thrusting increased in speed and his head rolled back. He was breathing in short, sharp gasps and he began maniacally pushing Kathy's body against his own.

"Killian is gonna blow!" whispered Randy.

"Big time," agreed Joey. The words were barely out of his mouth when Killian stiffened and thrust upward. His entire body spasmed and shuddered as his penis pulsed and squirted inside his tight Fruit of the Looms. Kathy, who had felt the firm flesh pressed against her pulsing and pulled away, leaving a thoroughly embarrassed Killian standing alone, panting and trying to regain his composure. There was a scattering of applause from some of the other cadets and Killian turned beet red, spun on his heels and all but ran from the dancing area.

"What a bitch," snapped Joey. "She gets a guy all hot and bothered and then she goes and . . ."

"He got his nuts off," Randy pointed out without a trace of sympathy for Killian. "The other one is after Chief Thornton."

Joey looked and saw that Louise was indeed "after" Phillip Thornton. She was doing to the Chief what Killian had done to Kathy. Phillip was beside himself with pleasure and her whispered suggestion that they maybe walk up the beach and look at the moon was accepted with alacrity.

The two boys watched Thornton and Louise disappear up the path that led back to the Mess Hall and the camp buildings. They also watched as Amy led Glenn Beuscher along the path in the opposite direction. Before very long they heard a muted high-pitched squeal from the direction where Glenn and Amy had gone.

"Jesus, that was quick," blurted Randy. "Glenn must have a hair trigger."

"Serves him right for going with a girl," replied Joey venomously. "It takes a guy to pleasure a guy." He stood up. "Come on, let's go someplace."

"Where?" asked Randy. "We can't go to the Mess Hall. It's like a tipped over ant heap in there, what with Sandro running in and out looking for something he's forgotten to take down to the beach, or Chef barging in when you least expect him! And the barracks is out. Half the guys are still packing."

"I'm horny," Joey admitted plainly. "And I want to fool around with you. Come on, we'll find someplace."

Randy grinned and followed Joey along the path. When he caught up with his young lover he reached out and took his hand. Joey smiled broadly and they strolled along, keeping to the shadows. They passed the Mess Hall and were just opposite Barracks One when they heard a harsh female voice complaining loudly.

"Jesus Christ, is there not one fucking man around this place?" Louise all but screamed. "You're supposed to stick it in before you do that!" They heard another voice, whispering, pleading. "No!" yelled Louise as she burst from the bushes hiding the beach. She was busily zipping up her shorts and crashed into Randy and Joey, who stood mesmerized in her path. "Get out of my way, you little bastards!" she snarled as she pushed the boys aside. "Fucking cadets!" she continued as she stomped away. "Not one of 'em worth a damn!"

Joey looked at Randy, who looked at Joey. They moved quietly into the bushes and pushed them aside. Randy gasped quietly. Before them was Chief Thornton. His gunshirt was pushed up above his nipples. His shorts and jockeys were pushed down below his knees. He was lying flat on his back, with his legs slightly splayed, held in check by his lowered clothing; his hands were covering his face.

The boys quietly walked onto the narrow strip of beach and hunkered down, squatting on their heels, Randy on one side of the distraught Chief, Joey on the other. They looked at the Chief's tanned, muscular body. His thick, soft circumcised penis, light tan clear against the stark white of his skin where his shorts had protected him from the sun, rested atop his heavy balls, which by now hung low in a smooth, almost hairless sac. Surrounding his cock and balls was a thick, unruly thatch of black, curly pubic hair. The head of the Chief's penis, a well-shaped rosy mushroom, was coated with the cooling remnants of a huge, and apparently premature ejaculation.

Phil wanted to die! He'd finally gotten a girl where he wanted her and what happened! She had reached out to help him insert himself and he'd been so excited that his dick had exploded! Shit! He just wanted to die and . . . He felt a soft finger trace it's way down the three-inch length of his soft penis, while a small, warm hand cupped his balls and rolled them gently. As the fingers stroked he felt his penis slowly rising. God did that feel good. Jesus, Louise was back and . . . He pulled his hands away from his face and opened his eyes, only to see Randy and Joey staring back at him. Both boys were grinning and Randy's stroking finger felt so good and . . . Phil sat up abruptly and glared at the two boys. "What the FUCK are you doing?" he hissed dangerously. His hands flew downward to cover his hard dick. "What the fuck?"

Randy licked his finger seductively. "Feeling you up," he said flatly. He looked at Joey. "His cum tastes nice. Strong, like him." He began to rub Phillip's hard, muscular stomach.

Joey ran his fingers down Phil's hard erection, seven inches of thick, pinkish-tan flesh, with a darker tan circumcision ring well down the shaft. He scooped up the last residue of ejaculate spotting Phil's hardon, and then brought his fingers to his lips. "His cum does taste good," he said, nodding his head in agreement.

Phil's jaw dropped. "You . . . you two fags leave me alone!" he ordered. He tried to shuffle away from the four probing hands. "I'm not . . . don't . . ."

"You've tried fucking a girl," Joey pointed out needlessly. "Now we're going to show you just how lucky you are that we came along." He reached out and slowly pushed Phil backward. "Just relax and enjoy what's coming."

Phil began to protest again and was quickly silenced by Joey, who covered his mouth with his. A bolt of exquisite pleasure flashed from Phil's groin as Randy slowly sucked the head of his dick into his mouth and began pulling gently on his balls. Before he knew it Phil felt himself responding to Joey's passionate kiss and their tongues began duelling. His mind told him that what he was doing was wrong. His body argued otherwise and he began to moan and squirm with pleasure.

Randy could feel the Chief's large balls contracting in their smooth, hairless sac. He did not want Phil to blow too soon so he withdrew and began to slowly masturbate the struggling Chief. "Now that is a nice dick," he said approvingly. Joey broke away from Phil's lips and grinned at Randy, who was offering Phil's penis for inspection. Joey nodded his agreement with Randy's assessment. Chiefie might be a jerk, but he had a very nice set of goods. He leaned down and ran his tongue around Phil's crisp, smooth-ridged, gently curving corona, pausing to savour the dollop of sweet precum that oozed from the slit.

Phil, who was no virgin when it came to fooling around with guys, was not about to become picky. He began to pant as warm lips slipped up and down the length of his erection, as small, soft hands kneaded his tightening sac. Another set of lips traced the dark, thick path of hair that stretched from his navel to his pubic bush, then slid up his stomach and chest to find his hard, excited nipples.

The boys teased and nuzzled Phil, smiling lewdly as the older boy squirmed and writhed at their touch. Each had a hand on Phil's hard, smooth penis and Joey's thumb gently caressed the hard, purpling helmet, smoothing the ever increasing supply of oozing precum over and over the supersensitive skin. Phil, his orgasm building deep within his groin, raised his hips, hoping that soon, very soon, warm lips would take him in, and suck him gently away.

A look passed between the two young cooks. They were determined to wipe away from Phil's mind any further thoughts of sex with a girl. Their fingers and lips continued to tantalize the teenager's body and they watched as the firm muscles of his thigh and chest rippled as exquisite pleasure coursed through his taut body. They heard his low growls and groans and felt the firm flesh thickening as Phil neared explosion. Joey raised his eyes and nodded to Randy. Abruptly they pulled away.

Phil's eyes snapped open and his heavy panting slowed. What the fuck? He raised his head. "Why'd you stop?" he demanded angrily. "You guys started something. Now finish it!" To emphasize his words he slid his hands up the loose legs of the boys' shorts, feeling their considerably smaller erections and scrotums. "You two wanted to fool around, so fool around!"

Both Joey and Randy pulled away. "Oh, we will," promised Joey. "But not here." "What?" Phil struggled into a sitting position. "Come on, guys, just suck me a bit. Please?"

Joey shook his head. "We'd really like to do that, Chiefie, but, well, there is the Beach Patrol."

Between Louise and the two cooks, Phil was hornier than a Barbary ape. "You guys can't stop now," he insisted. "I need to cum!"

"You already have, once," Joey pointed out with a lewd grin. He reached out and stroked Phil's hard penis. "Though from the sound of it the experience was not all it was cracked up to be."

Phil made a face. "Damned bitch. All she wanted was for me to fuck her! A guy likes a little foreplay, you know?" He looked at the two boys. "I ain't queer, but if you two will help me out, I'd appreciate it."

A slow, lascivious smile spread across Randy's face. "We'd really like to do that, Chiefie, but, like I said, there is the Beach Patrol."

Phil was not about to be outdone again. "The Boat Shed," he said slowly. "We can go there!" He stood up and hurriedly pulled up his briefs and shorts. Then he reached down and pulled Randy and Joey to their feet. "There's no Duty Watch in the Dockyard tonight and I know where the key to the Boat Shed is." His voice took on a wheedling tone. "All you have to do is suck me. Come on guys, you know you want me, and I want you to do it. Pleaaase!"

"Have you given up on girls, then?" asked Joey as they walked toward the Dockyard. "We heard one of them gives a mean blow job."

Phil shook his head. "By now that bitch Louise has told all her friends that I shot my load before I even stuck my dick in her! She'll blab it all over Comox, just like she did about Two Strokes last year!"

"Don't worry, Chiefie, we'll keep our mouths shut," promised Joey as they entered the Dockyard. He looked obliquely at Randy. Left unspoken was, "Because we want you as much as you want us!"

Randy saw Joey's look and winked. Then gave Chief Thornton a searching look. "You know the old saying, Chiefie, what we see here, what we hear here, what we do here, stays here?"

The Chief knew exactly what the boy was alluding to. "As if I'd tell anyone that I got it on with two kids!" he exclaimed. "Don't worry, no matter what happens, it's our secret."

"Just so we understand each other," replied Randy. "The key, Chiefie?" he prompted.

"Oh, yeah." Chief Thornton ducked into the Dockyard office and reappeared with the key to the Boat Shed in his hand. He quickly led Randy and Joey down the length of the jetty and stopped before the small shed. His hand shook as he inserted the key, unlocked the door and ushered both boys inside. "I think we better leave the lights off," he said as he locked the door. "You never know who might see the lights and come wandering down and . . . Holy GAAWD!" he squawked as his shorts and briefs were quickly pulled down. He felt a warm moistness quickly envelop the smooth head of his rapidly hardening penis. He squalled even louder as a warmer, moister tongue coursed its way down his butt crack.

So, the Chief liked a little foreplay, did he? Randy giggled in the darkness.

"Told you so," said Calvin flatly as Simon's eyes all but bugged out his head at the sight of Killian's explosion. Calvin laughed raucously when the sound of a moaning squeal drifted over from the far side of the roadway. "Looks like Amy struck again, too."

They watched as a visibly shaken Glenn Beuscher all but staggered back onto the beach. There was a large creamy stain on his dark shorts, which he was unsuccessfully trying to wipe away. Amy, who had a huge and very satisfied grin on her face, followed him. She hurried to where Kathy was sitting and they began to compare notes.

"Now's your chance, Simon," said Calvin with a grin. "You can ask Kathy to dance and get off with a dry rub, or you can ask Amy. Just make sure that you have a hanky with you," he finished with a long, low, chuckle. "But if you want a blow job you better hurry. Amy has had the hots for Phantom for years and if she sees an opening with him she'll pounce."

Simon, once again remembering the scene on the small beach shook his head. "Phantom wouldn't fuck her with your dick. He's not like that at all."

"And you'd know?" asked Calvin, fishing, wondering just what Simon knew about The Phantom. Maybe Robby Jensen just might have a chance after all, and if Robby . . . Well, well, well!

"Never you mind," snapped Simon. Calvin had touched a nerve and the less he knew about Phantom, the better. "Even if those two interested me, which they don't, I can't dance."

"You can't?" asked Calvin, incredulous that Simon had two older brothers and neither one of them had bothered to teach their little brother how to dance, as Mikey had taught him.

"No, I can't, so let it go."

Calvin thought a moment. "I can teach you, if you like."

Simon was horrified. The very thought of going out onto the beach, and having Calvin teach him a dance step, was preposterous. "You're kidding. I wouldn't, I couldn't do that! Not here!"

This time Calvin all but peed himself with laughter. "Who said anything about doing it here? We can go some place private and I'll teach you how to dance."

"No. I don't think that's a good idea at all," replied Simon, which was a lie. Being in a private spot, dancing with Calvin was a most appealing idea. Still, he did not want to appear too eager.

"Come on, Simon," wheedled Calvin, who wanted to teach Simon more than just a few dance steps. "It will be fun. No one will see us, I promise."

Simon's curiosity was piqued. He looked sideways at Calvin. "Well, maybe." Still, he hesitated. "We'd have to be nearby 'cause we'd have to hear the music. You can't dance without music."

"We could be in Comox and we'd hear the music," replied Calvin as he stood up. "It's so loud that I bet my dad is bitching to Mikey about all the noise. Come on, I know just the place."

"You do?" asked Simon, rising.

Calvin nodded. "The old Guard Room. It's out of the way and nobody is around." Simon hesitated. "What about Nicholas? The Bunting Tossers and him are always in and out of there. What if someone, what if Nicholas . . ."

"Nicholas is not going to be anywhere near the old Guard Room," responded Calvin. He knew where Nicholas was, and whom he was with. "You don't have anything to worry about. Nicholas is busy elsewhere tonight."

Nicholas moaned softly as his deflated penis fell out of Andre's warm, sex flushed body. He rolled to his side, pulling his young lover with him. They kissed and nuzzled each other and then, each breathless and still in the thralls of their lovemaking, cuddled. Nicholas could feel the cooling stickiness of Andre's massive ejaculation on his stomach and reached down, running his fingers through the watery remnants of their love for each other. Andre giggled and squirmed closer to Nicholas's body.

"I have made a mess. Again," said Andre as he reached down and cupped Nicholas's warm, soft testicles.

"I know," whispered Nicholas. He licked Andre's right nipple, which caused the young boy to squirm and wiggle intensely. "I love you, Andre," said Nicholas, his voice low, "but I sure wish you weren't so damned ticklish!" He pulled away from Andre, his soft penis and low hanging testicles swaying back and forth as he walked to the sink and rinsed the hand towel that hung on the small bar fitted to the sink. He returned to the bed and switched on the small lamp that stood on the bed table separating the two beds in the room, filling the room with a soft glow, and looked around.

Whoever had designed and decorated the officers' cabins in the Wardroom had never dreamed that one of them would be used as a lover's bower. The Phantom, in his own way, had tried to soften the grim, military utilitarianism of the cabin by adding two bowls of flowers. The caterer had left these behind, together with the tray of canapés and the tray of sandwiches that The Phantom had also left in the room. On the dresser, in a silver wine bucket, was the bottle of champagne - half empty - which The Phantom had promised to give to Nicholas the day before. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed and watched Andre watching him, the boy's dark eyes filled with love. As Nicholas began to slowly pat him clean Andre stretched and arched his back, a slight, pink and light olive coloured cat of a boy, engrossed in the ministrations being given to him.

Taking great care, Nicholas cleaned Andre's body, sighing inwardly as he wiped away the essence of his lover. He wanted to lean down and use his tongue and lips to cleanse Andre's soft, warm flesh. He knew that he did not dare because Andre was so damned ticklish that he would raise the dead, which Nicholas well knew from his first, and only attempt to clean the boy that way.

They had been on the beach, far from the buildings of the ship, thank God! Andre had sucked him to paradise, and then crawled on top of him, rubbing le Grand Andre frantically across his stomach and genitals, thrusting frantically and finally squealing, his head thrown back, his eyes rolling back in his head as he reached and then plummeted from a glorious plateau, huge jets of his immature sperm coating their bodies. Nicholas had turned the boy on his back and licked. This had sent Andre to giggling; another lick and Andre started squirming. Another lick and Andre giggled, squirmed and wriggled. At first Nicholas thought that Andre was playing a game so he redoubled his efforts, only to have Andre giggle, squirm, wriggle, wiggle and squeal. He could not be touched without his body contorting like an eel out of water.

Andre saw the look on Nicholas's face and snickered. "I am sorry, Nicholas, that God made me the way He did."

"It's all right, Andre," replied Nicholas. He slowly lifted Andre's soft mouse from its nest of testicles. "This isn't ticklish." A small drop of opalescent semen nestled in the small opening of Andre's skin-covered mouse. He bent down and gently licked the nectar away. He could feel Andre's penis stiffening and he slowly retracted the boy's foreskin, revealing the curving, slick, plum-coloured head. His tongue traced the contours of Andre's glans, cleansing it thoroughly. Andre wiggled and moaned in pleasure.

When Andre was clean Nicholas lay down beside him. He gently kneaded Andre's delicate eggs, and pulled ever so slightly on his hardening penis, pulling the foreskin down. He kissed Andre's warm lips and then withdrew. "God, I love you," he murmured.

Andre ran his hand down Nicholas's face. "We will be together forever, oui?"

"Oui," confirmed Nicholas firmly. "No matter what happens, no matter what people say, what your people say, or mine, we will be together. I swear it, Andre."

"I do not want us to love in secret, Nicholas. I wish to be with you, but not in secret."

"We'll have to leave Montreal." Nicholas pulled Andre closer to him. "I don't want to, it's home. But we'll have to leave." He began stroking Andre's back, his touch gentle. "I was going to live at home - you know I start Concordia University next month?"

Andre nodded.

"Well, I think now what I'll do is find a small apartment, somewhere around the Jesuit School. We'd have to be careful, but we could do it. You could see me every day."

Andre sighed. "In two years we will be together. I will not stay in Montreal if I cannot be with you always. We will move to Toronto. I will write the University there." Suddenly he clutched at Nicholas. "I do not wish to leave you. I do not wish to go home tomorrow. I do not want to be away from you for so long!"

"Andre, my love, my life, it's only for two weeks. I fly home on the 29th. On the 30th I'll be outside your house and we'll drive up to the cottage. We'll have a whole week together, just us. You and me, together, alone." He quickly ran his tongue across Andre's neck, which caused him to squeal loudly.

"Nicholas, stop that! We must not make too much noise."

"I'm not ticklish and it's not me that makes noise. You are the one who will have to be very quiet."

A lusty glint came into Andre's deep, brown eyes. "You will make love to me, Nicholas?"

"No."

Andre started. "No? What do you mean, 'no'?"

"You are going to make love to me!"

"I am?"

Nicholas nodded, chuckling softly. "You remember how wonderful it was, after we made our vows?"

"Oh, Nicholas, it was so wonderful. I did not want you to ever leave me."

"Well, I had to. I'm not made of stone, you know."

Andre giggled and reached down to feel Nicholas's hard penis. "I do not know about that!" He gave Nicholas's penis a squeeze. "He felt so good, Nicholas. He felt wonderful the second time and tonight . . ."

"I want you to feel that, too, Andre. When we made love I gave you a part of me. Now I want you to give me a part of you."

Andre nodded, somewhat uncertainly. "If you wish it, Nicholas."

"I wish it," said Nicholas. He struggled to a sitting position and found the jar of Vaseline that he'd brought with him. He handed it to Andre. "First, you have to get me ready, just like Monday night, remember?" He lay down on his back. "Put a couple of pillows under my butt," he instructed.

Andre, who was starting to breathe heavily, did not remember any pillows being used on Monday. Of course, they had been in the Flag Locker when . . . He pulled the pillows from the end of the bed and arranged them as instructed. Nicholas raised and spread his legs, revealing his brown, slightly puckered hole.

"Take some of the Vaseline and rub it around my hole. Then put some on your finger and . . ."

"I know that part," whispered Andre impatiently. He did remember that much of their first session. With small, tentative dabs he applied a generous amount of the lubricant around and around Nicholas's orifice. Then, almost reluctantly he slowly pushed his finger into Nicholas's body.

Nicholas gasped loudly and raised his hips as Andre's digit entered him. "Just go slow, petit, go slow."

Slowly, never taking his eyes off of Nicholas's face, Andre pushed his finger deep into Nicholas's rectum. Quite unintentionally, the tip of his finger brushed Nicholas's prostate. Nicholas moaned loudly and pulled back his legs. Andre giggled, withdrew his finger, and then pushed it in again. Nicholas bucked and his hard penis spasmed. Andre drew back, expecting a massive explosion, but Nicholas managed to control himself. "Andre, I want you in me, not your finger," he growled low.

"But Nicholas, I am not sure what to do, and my mouse, he is so small," returned Andre.

"Don't you worry about the size of your mouse," replied Nicholas. "Now pull back your 'puce and use lots of Vaseline on the tete and the shaft. Make sure when you push in that your 'puce is pulled back. I want to feel the head, not a lot of skin."

Andre, who was quite fond of his foreskin, mentally stuck his tongue out at Nicholas, but did as he was told. He scooted behind Nicholas and placed the head of his penis against Nicholas's rosebud, which had opened slightly, blossoming from Andre's gentle finger stroking. Andre pushed slowly into Nicholas and almost immediately the head of his penis was captured by the warm moistness of Nicholas's channel. He growled and pushed some more. He was very excited, and he began to breathe in short, sharp pants. He saw Nicholas grimace and stopped pushing. "Nicholas!" he exclaimed, "I am hurting you!"

"No, it's fine. Just go slow, Andre!" Nicholas willed his body to relax as the boy continued to push. All too soon he felt Andre's soft, curly pubic hairs brushing against his butt cheeks. He sighed happily.

"Nicholas, he is all in!" crowed Andre. Mon Dieu! Did his petit souris feel wonderful! Andre could not help himself. He began to thrust rapidly, a small French-Canadian jackhammer run amok. He grunted loudly and pushed and pulled, oblivious to what his penis was doing to Nicholas.

Nicholas, who knew how excitable Andre could be, had more or less expected a bunny rabbit on drugs routine from his young lover, and he had been prepared to accept Andre's version of making love. However, Andre was grunting and thrusting with such abandon that he was pushing Nicholas's head against the headboard of the bed. Nicholas, at first, hoped that Andre, who had already experienced two magnificent orgasms, would shoot his bolt quickly. This did not seem about to happen. The little guy was pounding away to beat the band and not only was Nicholas getting a headache from banging his head against the headboard of the bed, and his hole was becoming decidedly sore!

"Andre!" he whispered fiercely. Andre, lost in a world of his own, continued to thrust manically. "Andre!" repeated Nicholas, louder, and to about the same effect. He looked at Andre who had his head thrown back, his mouth agape, and his hips a blur as he pumped rapidly in and out. "God damn it, Andre!" he snarled as he gave the boy a sharp rap on the top of his forehead.

Andre, startled out of his priapic reverie, fell back, his mouse leaving Nicholas's body with a soft plop. He fell back on the bed and then promptly sat up. He looked at his petite souris, which was deflating rapidly and then gave Nicholas, who was also now sitting up, a black look. "Nicholas! Why did you hit me! My mouse, he was so very happy! How could you . . .?" he rattled off.

Nicholas returned Andre's look. "Because, my love, you were supposed to be making love to me, NOT DRILLING FOR OIL!" He gathered the boy into his arms. "Andre, do you remember how very happy you were when we did it for the first time? How very, very happy your mouse was? How all of you was happy?"

Andre nodded. "Oui. But Nicholas, I have never done this before, and my mouse, he made me do it!"

Nicholas could not contain his laughter. "If you listen to me, Andre, your mouse will be ten times happier and so will I."

Andre looked down doubtfully at his mouse, which was sleeping soundly. "I don't know, Nicholas. He does not look happy at all!"

Laughing, Nicholas reached down with his right hand and began to gently stroke Andre's mouse, slowly moving the loose skin covering the head up and down exposing, then hiding, the purple, dome-like acorn. When Andre's mouse was once again happy Nicholas reached down with his left hand and fully retracted the foreskin that covered the curving dome of Andre's mouse. Holding Andre's mouse firmly he then began to gently rub the palm of his right hand across the Vaseline-slicked glans, gathering the clear precum that oozed out of the pee slit. Andre immediately began to whimper and moan. He also began to make long, firm thrusts with his hips. "See," whispered Nicholas, "you know how to do it. Long and slow." He slowly pushed Andre away and fumbled for the jar of Vaseline. Andre felt Nicholas's ministering hand liberally coat his penis. He heard Nicholas's whispered, smooth-voiced request and, in a fog, positioned himself between Nicholas's raised and outstretched legs. Andre's head cleared and he looked down, seeing Nicholas ready for him. He scooted forward and once again placed the head of his mouse against Nicholas's entrance. Remembering his lover's early admonition he slowly retracted his foreskin, and then pushed forward. Much to his surprise every inch of his mouse slid easily into Nicholas's warm, wet channel. He gasped at the sensations coursing through his body as he reached out and grasped Nicholas's legs.

Nicholas was in heaven! With each slow, deliberate thrust the head of Andre's penis brushed across Nicholas's prostate, which sent an exquisite firestorm of pleasure raging through his body. He moaned and bucked his hips, forcing Andre's penis deeper into him.

Andre's breathing was laboured and the sweat dripped continuously from his body as he exercised all of his self-control. He wanted to please his Nicholas in every way possible. He whimpered as the muscles in Nicholas's rectum clutched and massaged his very hard, and very happy mouse, sending delicious waves of ecstasy through it, waves that rippled through his ascending testicles and exploded deep with his loins.

Both boys moaned their pleasure until, all too soon, Andre's body stiffened and he thrust viciously into Nicholas. He squealed loudly as his mouse pulsed and a torrent of his semen squirted deep into Nicholas's body. With each successive squirt Andre's body shivered and shook. He dropped his hold on Nicholas's legs, collapsing in a sodden heap on top of the boy he had just made as one with him. Instinctively he wrapped his arms tightly around Nicholas, his hips continuing to thrust in short, sharp jabs.

Nicholas could feel the fiery heat of Andre's body and feel the boy's sweat-slicked skin rubbing across the special spot on the underside of his curving glans. He could feel his orgasm building, filling his every sense and he too exploded into the most mind-numbing orgasm he had ever experienced. He buried his face in Andre's neck, kissing and licking the hot, sweet flesh, not hearing the incoherent utterances of love that Andre whispered over and over again.

Finally, reluctantly, Nicholas gently pushed Andre away slightly. He gazed into the boy's deep, adoring eyes. "Was it good?" he asked softly.

Much to Nicholas's surprise Andre exploded into a stream of rapid-fire French, speaking so fast that Nicholas could not understand him. "Etait-ce bon?" asked Andre. His face was filled with wonder and his little mouse still quivered. "Was . . . it . . . good?" He grinned widely. "Mon DIEU, Nicholas! Il etait magnifique, si glorieux! Pourquoi ne m'avex-vous pas dit comment merveilleux ce serait Nicholas?" He paused for breath. "Pouvons-nous le faire encore, Nicholas?"

"Andre, you're talking too fast. Slow down!" said Nicholas with a huge laugh.

Andre wiggled his hips. His mouse was still hard, and still imbedded in Nicholas's rectum. "I said, why did you not tell me how wonderful making love to you was?" He pumped his hips gently. "My mouse, he is very, very happy. Can we do it again, Nicholas?"

Nicholas reached over and turned out the light. "We can do it again, my little one. We can do it again," he said huskily as he pulled Andre to him.

The Gunner watched as the two couples left the beach, took a sip of beer and glanced at Chef, who returned an "It never changes" look.

The Phantom saw the exchange of looks. "Aren't you two supposed to be guarding the virginity of the cadets? he asked, grinning broadly.

"When the gates of the city are open the Guard is for nought!" brayed Chef. Then he hiccoughed.

The Phantom giggled. "Does that mean that both Glenn and Phil have already lost their virginity?"

The Gunner glared at Chef and then looked at The Phantom. "I doubt that Glenn has lost anything. Phillip Thornton - who knows."

The Phantom looked thoughtful. "Glenn will get blown. As for Phillip . . ." he snickered. "Louise likes 'em big. I hope his dick is as big as the rest of him 'cause if he's short-changed, she'll spread it all over town like she did last year." He sat down and helped himself to an illicit beer. "I used to think that only guys talked about their conquests."

"A gentleman never kisses and tells," mumbled Chef. "One hopes that Stevie is teaching you how to be a proper gentleman."

The Gunner ignored Chef. "So, that is the young lady who lusted mightily after Two Stokes," he said. "Should I keep an eye on her?"

"You better," replied The Phantom. "She loves dick. If she scores with Phil she'll get a taste for cadet dick and, knowing her, the sky's the limit."

"Really, Phantom, your language!" spat Chef. "A 'taste for cadet dick', indeed!" Then he laughed. "Mind you, it would seem that the other, um, 'young lady' has acquired such a taste."

The Phantom gave Chef a sour look. "She's living up to her reputation, or perhaps down to it. If Amy's blowing Glenn Beuscher she's leaving me alone."

The Gunner, who had heard the story of Amy Jensen's failed attempt at seducing The Phantom, laughed heartily. "Your virtue is safe, dear Phantom. I shall guard it zealously."

The Phantom gave his lover a sour look. "You haven't had her hand up your shorts, Gunner."

"An experience I've avoided," returned The Gunner dryly, still laughing.

"I don't see anything at all funny, Gunner," said The Phantom primly. "You're supposed to make sure that everybody behaves, including those harpies from town."

Chef snorted. "Phantom! Dear, dear Phantom! Losing one's virginity is a natural stop on the path of life. We've all of us lost it."

The Gunner nodded. "Phantom, when two consenting humans decide that the time is right they are going to do what nature intended them to do."

"Fuck like rabbits, you mean," returned The Phantom bluntly.

"Well, yes. It's the nature of people. A boy has to lose his virginity sooner or later and he might as well lose it here. It's better than under the grandstand at CORNWALLIS." The Gunner grinned at Chef, who looked shocked.

"A disgusting display of lust," grumbled Chef. "And with the admiral himself not fifty yards away!"

"What the admiral didn't know didn't hurt him," replied The Gunner. He turned to The Phantom. "Human nature is human nature, no matter how much people pontificate and try to stifle a man's natural feelings and wants. When we were both on staff in CORNWALLIS one of the lads decided not to go on parade and was making out with his girlfriend under the bleachers while the admiral was going on about how the Navy had a duty to safeguard its men and ensure that the men in its charge were shown the proper, moral, path to follow."

"Sounds like a jerk," said The Phantom. "The admiral, I mean."

"He was." The Gunner took another sip of 'comfort'. "Phantom, I know that Thornton is going to get laid. I know that Beuscher is going to get his dick sucked. They've both gone off to a private place with a girl. They both know what they're doing, as do the girls. Everybody who has the opportunity does it. It should be a wonderful, fulfilling experience. It can be a disappointing experience. In a little while I'm sure that both Phillip and Glenn will discover which."

"So you're not going to do anything?" The Phantom asked The Gunner.

"No, Phantom, I'm not. They're out of sight, doing whatever, in private. If they were doing it in the middle of the beach, I would object. Since they're not, I'm going to enjoy the evening."

"A wise decision, Stephen," said Chef. "A lad has to learn in his own way and his own time. Just as I did."

The Gunner almost fell of the bench that he was sitting on. "You! You were a virgin on your wedding night!"

"So I was," agreed Chef easily. "Twas the done thing when I was a lad. Not like today, with the girls being so forward. Now, in my day a girl was a maiden, coy, subtle, and virginal. She was . . ."

"Corseted and wearing a bustle!" exclaimed The Gunner. "You told me yourself that trying to get a girl out of her clothes, and then back into them after you'd done the dirty, was like moving day in Montreal!"

"So it was. Also I led a very sheltered existence as a boy. Women were on pedestals, sacred objects."

"Bullshit!" The Gunner gave Chef a mean look. "You told me yourself that girls scared you!"

The Phantom giggled. "They sure as hell scare me!"

"And so they should," said Chef with a pontifical nod, his mien sober. "Vicious creatures they can be, taking advantage of poor innocent boys for their own debased pleasure. Stay away from the creatures, Phantom." Then he roared with laughter. "And always, dear boy, if you insist on being debased, always wear protection. There's no point in sticking your private member where I wouldn't be putting me serving spoon and having the head of your wee fellow turning as red as a parson's nose and pissin' cinders a week later!"

Before The Phantom could ask just how Chef knew about wee red fellows and pissing cinders he saw movement from the crest of the roadway. Glenn Beuscher was walking slowly down the sloping beach, adjusting his shorts. He had a huge shot stain on the leg of his shorts. So, Amy didn't swallow. The Phantom started to snicker at Glenn's misfortune when Amy appeared. She looked directly at him and smiled hungrily.

The Phantom jumped up. "I am out of here. If you need me, I'll be in the Gunroom!"

"The Gunroom? Now, Phantom, there's work to be done," said Chef. He saw the frightened look in The Phantom's eyes and nodded. "Ah, the young lady would like to make her acquaintance with you?"

"She has already made my acquaintance!" returned The Phantom hotly. "I know her! She's being trying to get her hands up the leg of my shorts for four years! She made it once. I was wearing tighty-whiteys. All she felt was a bulge under my underpants and she's been trying to get her hand up my shorts ever since!"

"Tighty-whiteys, bastions of morality to be sure," said Chef with a lewd chuckle. "Why is tonight different?"

"Boxers!" replied The Phantom as he hurried off into the darkness.

The Phantom walked briskly along the gravel path, passing first the Mess Hall, which was ablaze with lights. Across from the Mess Hall the Cooks Barracks was dark, with not a light showing. Just as dark was the adjoining Barracks 2, where the Supply types berthed, and The Phantom remembered that he had not seen Rob or Ryan on the beach. He wondered if Ryan's circumcision was sufficiently healed for the two boys to resume their lovemaking. He continued on, passing the Musicians and Buglers Barracks, which like the Mess Hall, were lit up. All the Musicians and Bandsmen would be going home and those cadets not making merry on the beach with Harry were finishing their packing and making an early night of it. The Sea Puppies, most of them, were following the lead of the Musicians and likewise packing or in bed early.

As he passed the breezeway flats The Phantom saw two dark figures sitting quietly on the bench. As he neared them he recognized Chris and Jon. He laughed quietly as they drew apart at his approach. He hailed them and stopped to chat a moment. "Not at the party?" he asked, sitting down beside Chris.

"It got boring," replied Chris as he felt the warmth of The Phantom's thigh against his. "We're just sitting here enjoying the quiet."

"What a liar you are, Chris," said The Phantom with a grin. He reached around Chris's body, took his hand and gently placed it in Jon's. "Never be ashamed to show your love, Chris." He looked at Jon. "Be honest with each other, and yourselves."

Jon squeezed Chris's hand and returned The Phantom's grin. "Were we that obvious?"

The Phantom shook his head. "Not really. Mind, I've seen the looks you two have been giving each other."

Chris laughed quietly. "So much for keeping our love secret." The Phantom gave Chris's arm a light squeeze. "Why keep it secret? Being in love with Jon is no shame."

"You're right, Phantom," agreed Chris. "It's the people who don't understand what true love is who will give us a hard time." He raised Jon's hand and kissed it. He looked at Jon. "I do love you so very much," he said quietly.

"I know," murmured Jon in reply.

The Phantom coughed delicately. It was time to leave the two boys alone. "I'm going over to the Gunroom. Are the Twins back?"

Jon nodded. "They came back about an hour ago. Chief Anders was with them."

The Phantom stood up and stretched. "You know that you're not alone?" Both Chris and Jon nodded, understanding The Phantom's question. "Good. Tomorrow see me in the Mess Hall. I'll give you a number to call in case you run into any trouble. Being gay is wonderful. Unfortunately too many people think the opposite."

"We'll be all right, Phantom," said Chris. "We're careful. We know how to play the Game."

"One day we won't have to." Jon reached around and held Chris close. "I hate having to sneak around, Phantom."

"We all do," replied The Phantom. He reached out and stroked Jon's face. "But our day is coming, Jon. You just love each other as much as you can. And always remember that you are not alone."

Chris laughed. "So it seems. Simon Keppel and Calvin Hobbes went by a little while ago. They were walking very close and almost fainted when they saw us sitting here."

"Simon and Calvin? The Phantom grinned. "Well, boys will be boys." He walked away chuckling to himself. Simon, the little devil, had found a special friend! He was a little surprised at this. After all, Simon had only given in to his urges the day before. He had assumed that Randy and Joey would keep the boy well occupied. As he approached The Gunroom he scratched his head, wondering just where the two young boys would go. There were hidey-holes to be sure and he hoped that Simon and Calvin had the sense to find one.

The old Guard Room was one of those cabins that everybody knew was there but no one except the Signalmen ever went into. During the war years it had been a combination Regulating Office, Guard Room and Brig. When the war ended it passed into the hands of the Gunnery Branch, and later into the hands of the Yeoman of Signals, for use as a storeroom. It was rarely visited, so much so that Father, during Captain's Rounds when he inspected the Drill Shed, more often than not forgot that the room was there and walked on past. It was a small chamber located in the far corner of the Drill Shed with shelving for the flags and pennants lining two sides of the room. A window, covered with a faded old Blue Duster, broke the bulkhead opposite the door. Under the window was a battered old desk, clear now of the usual clutter of logs, tattered flags being written off for destruction, and outdated training manuals.

"What do you think?" Calvin asked Simon as he closed, and then quietly locked, the door. "Private enough?"

While the moon had risen the old flag draped over the window blocked any of the pale light from entering the room. "It's kind of dark," replied Simon nervously. His palms were sweaty and his boner was straining the fabric of his underpants. "Aren't you going to turn on the lights?"

"Nah," answered Calvin with a shake of his head. "The overhead lights are too bright. But . . ." He climbed on the desk and began to unhitch the old flag covering the window. Calvin was silhouetted in the dim light, every curve of his body, his legs, sharply outlined, as was the pronounced bulge in his gym shorts. When Calvin dropped the flag to the desk the room was flooded with pale moonlight. He bent down and opened the window wide and the sounds of Morris Albert singing Feelings drifted into the room. Jumping down from desk, Calvin waved his arm. "How's that? Light, privacy and music." He held out his arms. "Wanna dance?" he asked huskily.

Simon gasped as the moonlight and music created for him a magical scene. Calvin's gunshirt took on a fluorescent brilliance and his wonderful, blond-red hair seemed to shimmer with light. Trancelike, Simon moved forward and Calvin took him in his arms. They stood stock still, each looking into the other's eyes and then, without preamble or warning, Calvin's lips touched Simon's. A chill of delight travelled down Simon's spine, and he moaned softly. Their lips parted slightly and their tongues met. Calvin groaned and pulled the willing boy in his arms closer. He could feel Simon's raging hardon pressing against his own erection and he whimpered happily. With their lips pressed close together they began to sway in time to the soft music.

When the song ended their lips parted and Calvin buried his face in the hollow of Simon's shoulder. His senses drank in Simon's ambrosial scent and he began to breathe heavily. He could feel his hard penis throbbing with desire. He wanted to make love to Simon. He wanted Simon to make love to him. He wanted to feel and taste every part of the wonderful, dark-haired boy he held in his arms.

Simon's hand left Calvin's waist. He slowly ran his fingers through Calvin's short, wonderfully soft hair. He could feel Calvin's heart pounding and could hear his shallow, rapid breathing. Simon wanted so desperately to make love to Calvin, the long, slow, deliberate love that Randy and Joey had made to him only the day before. With his free hand Simon stroked and kneaded the firm bulge in Calvin's shorts, his fingers gently rubbing the soft cotton of Calvin's briefs against his most delicate part.

Simon's touch was electrifying and Calvin shuddered as a wave of delight sped through his loins. He felt Simon's exploring hands gently massaging the tightly knitted cloth against the underside of his penis, his probing fingers sending a delicate tremor through his boner as they slowly circled the small knot of scar tissue under the curving corona of his engorged organ. Feeling the soft cotton caressing his skin, Calvin realized that for the first time in his life someone was making love to him. Calvin also realized that until this moment all he had ever obtained before was release, that all he had ever had with the two boys who preceded Simon was sex.

Calvin's first love had been, and intermittently still was, his older brother Mikey, a tall, muscular, too-handsome-for-his-own-good, bluff, boisterous, sixteen-year-old jock of a boy with dark blond hair and a penis of magnificent proportions that was uniquely coloured to complement his darker skin tones. Calvin had not lied when he had told Simon that Mikey's penis rivalled Harry's, for he had felt the wonderful beast pressing against his butt crack, had felt the firm underside of Mikey's smoothly defined, flanged, perfectly-formed helmet rubbing against the skin of his back, had felt the hot rush of semen when Mikey shuddered and growled loudly with ejaculation.

Yet, for all his consideration and care, Mikey never touched his brother's penis. He was always careful to bring Calvin off as he ejaculated, or soon afterward, but only by rubbing Calvin's penis through his underpants. They had never touched each other's naked penis, they had never slept together naked.

Which Calvin had done with his second lover. Where Mikey was warm and considerate, Robby Jensen was cold, calculating, demanding and controlling. Sex with Robbie was always on his terms, his pleasure paramount and only when he wanted it. It did not matter what Calvin was doing when Robbie called. Calvin was expected to drop everything and race on his bike to Robbie's house where Robbie would be waiting, naked and aroused, to be serviced.

Calvin and Robbie had been having sex all winter and into spring, wild, uninhibited sex, which left Calvin exhausted and, strangely, feeling just a little soiled when they had finished, and Robbie dismissed him with a careless, indifferent wave of his hand.

When he and Robbie had first started fooling around, Calvin had at first though that sex with Robbie happened because his older brother, Jeff, was not around and they had the house to themselves. Calvin very quickly learned that the opposite was true. Sex with Robbie happened because his older brother Jeff was not around. Robbie had let slip that he and Jeff were fucking like minks, which explained why the telephone had not rung since school let out.

Calvin was not thinking of Mikey, or of Robbie, or of anyone but the handsome, slim, dark-haired boy named Simon. He wanted to have sex with Simon, but not the wild, get-your-rocks-off-milk-me-dry sex that Robbie offered. The attraction Calvin had for Simon was all but overwhelming and he wanted Simon's love, just as he wanted Simon to have his love. He began to slowly kiss Simon's smooth neck and his hand slipped behind the twin barriers of gunshirt and cotton briefs, his fingers finding the warm smoothness that pulsed between Simon's legs.

Simon trembled at Calvin's touch. He pulled the boy closer and then slowly pushed him away. For what seemed like an eternity they stared into each other's eyes. Then Simon slowly pushed Calvin's gunshirt over his head and tossed it aside. With equal slowness his hands traced Calvin's body, moving downward.

Calvin writhed at the softness caressing his waist and he sucked in his breath as his shorts and tighty-whiteys were slowly pushed down. He felt Simon's tongue as it traced a path down his throat, pausing to lick each nipple, then continue downward, circling his navel and rubbing across his pubic bush. His heart was racing and he could feel his testicles rising toward his crotch.

Simon was on his knees, staring at the most beautiful cock he had ever seen. Calvin was not huge. He was, in fact, most average in size and shape for a 13-year-old who had entered puberty just before his 12th birthday. It was not Calvin's size that impressed Simon but the wonder of his erection. Calvin's penis was as slim as he, four inches and a bit of pale pink flesh that jutted at an angle from his body. His circumcision was masterfully perfect, with just a wisp of a ring, giving his penis a most refined and subtle beauty. Crowning Calvin's sleek and elegantly tapered penis was a perfectly proportioned, rose coloured, curving glans. Hanging below Calvin's flushed, throbbing erection was a smooth, silken bag containing fair-sized, oval testicles.

Simon leaned forward and buried his face in Calvin's small, neat patch of dark red pubic hair. He smelled the sweet, clean, musky scent of Calvin, a scent that gave promise of hidden passion. He withdrew a bit and kissed each of Calvin's testicles in turn, then kissed the neat, perfect mushroom-shaped head of Calvin's penis.

Calvin could not help it. His excitement had increased. The dome of pleasure at the base of his belly was growing and causing exquisite sensations to radiate wildly from his crotch. He threw his head back and his eyes rolled as his orgasm crashed through him. A strong, thick jet of semen flew from the head of his penis, hitting Simon's forehead. Simon lunged and his mouth sucked in Calvin's squirting organ. He sucked furiously as Calvin groaned and shuddered to a mind-altering, shattering climax. So engrossed was he in offering Calvin an ultimate pleasure that Simon barely felt his own orgasm as it exploded in his briefs.

Calvin, spent and exhausted, slowly sank to his knees, his softening penis screaming with outraged pleasure. He held Simon close, half weeping, half laughing. "OhmyGOD," he moaned. "I am so sorry, Simon."

Simon laughed quietly. "You were wonderful," he whispered.

"But . . . Simon, I shot my load," Calvin replied apologetically.

Simon laughed louder. "So did I!"

"But . . . but . . . we didn't do anything!"

"Calvin, I've been with two boys and they never made me cream myself," returned Simon with a huge smile.

"And I've been with two boys and they never made me feel such . . . I can't describe it." Calvin began to push Simon's shorts and underpants down. He laughed deliciously when he felt the huge patch of wetness that marred the pristine whiteness of Simon's briefs. "I wanted to have sex with you, Simon, from almost the first time I saw you. Now I want to make love to you." He saw that Simon was about to speak. "I want to taste you, and feel you and . . ." He pushed Simon slowly backward.

Simon lay on the deck with Calvin hovering over him. He saw Calvin slowly lowering his head. He felt Calvin's moist, warm tongue as it slowly licked up the length of his soft penis, cleaning it of his ejaculate. He closed his eyes as the sensations, small, indescribable feelings, began seeping slowly through his body.

When The Phantom entered the Gunroom he found not only Chief Anders, but also Matt with the Twins. They were playing cards, and sipping on scotch whiskey. When The Phantom entered the room both Cory and Todd jumped to their feet and hugged him. Cory copped a quick feel before The Phantom managed to pull away. "Jesus, what was that in aid of?" asked The Phantom as he pushed the Twins back. "Talk about a welcome!"

"I rather think that they are glad to see you," said Sean with a smile. He pushed the bottle of scotch close to The Phantom. "Since you are the author of this alcoholic debauch perhaps you might like a drink."

"Debauch? Hell, this place is about debauched as the CWO Bingo night down at the Catholic church," sniped Cory. Then he reached down and gave Matt's crotch a quick squeeze. "However, I have plans."

"Not with me you don't," yelped Matt, trying to preserve the fiction that he was a straight arrow and not interested in boys. He glanced quickly at Todd who had just the slightest frown on his face. Matt smiled inwardly but grumbled loudly, "Go pick on Sean!"

"Cory, behave," ordered Todd gently as he waved The Phantom to a seat. "You're practically engaged."

"Yeah, and you're not!" Cory moved and sat beside Sean, giving his crotch a quick feel.

Todd did not reply. He looked stricken and quickly left the Gunroom.

"Damn, Cory, why did you . . ." began The Phantom. "You better go after him."

"No! He's been like a bear with a sore dick all night. He was fine until he had a talk with Mummy and then all he's been is snarly!"

"Cory, he is your brother, after all," said Sean. "If something is bothering him who better than you to talk to him?"

Cory had a very good idea as to what was bothering his brother. Todd was sleeping with Harry, lusting after Phantom, and in love with Matt. "I've tried. He won't tell me what's bothering him."

The Phantom downed a quick scotch. "Well, he'll tell me," he growled at Cory, and hurried from the Gunroom.

The Phantom found Todd sitting on the front steps, which was exactly where he expected to find his friend. He sat down and gave Todd a small nudge with his elbow. "Want to talk about it?" he asked.

Todd shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh, I think there is," replied The Phantom. He slipped his hand down the front of Todd's shorts and gently cupped his friend's soft penis. As The Phantom had expected, Todd was not wearing underwear.

Todd repressed a laugh. "You know me too well, Phantom." He slipped his hand down the front of The Phantom's shorts. As he had expected, The Phantom was wearing underwear.

They sat quietly, holding each other, listening to the music that blasted from the beach. Finally Todd laid his head on The Phantom's shoulder. "Today my mother asked me if there wasn't a special someone in my life. I told her no."

"Ah," said The Phantom. "Does that mean that you and Harry . . .?"

Todd sighed unhappily. "Phantom, I like Harry, I really do. The sex with him is great. I am just not in love with him. I want him, I just don't want to be with him." He sniffled. "I am so fucked up!"

"No, you're not," replied The Phantom firmly. "Deep down inside you want what we all want, a stable relationship with someone you love." He squeezed Todd's penis, which thickened perceptively. "You're smart enough to know that it's not Harry." With his free hand he reached up and stroked the back of Todd's head. "Cory has been a constant in your life and he's found Sean. In a way you're jealous."

"I am not!" returned Todd, not quite yelling his denial.

"Yeah, you are,' replied The Phantom, his voice calm and steady. "Cory's has been the love that never failed you. He was always there for you, as you were for him. Now, with Sean in the picture, you have to share Cory with him."

"A lot you know," replied Todd stiffly. He ran his thumb across the head of The Phantom's penis. "Maybe I'm all agog over you. Maybe I'm secretly in love with Sean."

The Phantom laughed and squeezed Todd again. "You are in love with me, just as I'm in love with you. I know that and so do you. Sean is not my type, nor is he yours. Harry is someone you've wanted for a long time. You feel deeply about him. You also know that he's also just an infatuation. Have your affair with him, Todd. Be in love with him as long as it lasts."

"And then what?" Todd shuddered as his penis hardened to its full six inches. "Damn, Phantom, you're not supposed to get me hard!"

"Shut up, Todd," growled The Phantom. He held Todd close and then lowered his head, pressing his lips against Todd's, all the while slowly masturbating him. Todd tried to struggle but gave up. The Phantom's lips kept a tight seal on Todd's. He felt Todd's erection pulse and his body tremble. Todd groaned into The Phantom's mouth, surrendering to the orgasm that roared through him. When the last of his sperm had squirted from his throbbing penis he fell back.

"You bugger," Todd gasped. "You did that deliberately!"

"Yep. You needed it," agreed The Phantom. "You have to admit you feel better."

Todd chuckled. "I feel a lot better, thank you!" He struggled back up. "I just wish all my problems could be solved that way."

"They can't, and I can't tell you what to do. I love you, I'll sleep with you, and I'll cry with you but, Todd, only you can decide what is best for you."

"I don't know what is best for me! I feel as if I've betrayed Harry. I sleep with him, we have wonderful sex, and then I go back to the Gunroom and lie awake wondering why I do it! I tell myself that I love him while at the same time I know that I can't have him!"

"And you never will. Harry sleeps with you because he enjoys the sex," The Phantom pointed out harshly. "Harry has feelings for you but he knows that what you two have will never be permanent. He knows the score and it doesn't bother him at all. Right now he's down on the beach enjoying himself while you're here, in self-imposed purdah. I understand why you and Cory decided to stay in, and not go to the barbecue. So does Harry, but you don't notice him in there . . ." he thrust his thumb back toward the Gunroom. " . . . keeping you company." He gently kissed the top of Todd's golden-haired head. "Harry has his own agenda, Todd. He does, in his way, love you, but you are not a part of what he wants, what lies ahead for him. Right now you and he are lovers. That is all you will ever be. He knows that you and he will never be together as partners."

"Don't you think I don't know that?" asked Todd, his voice full of the pain he felt. He nuzzled The Phantom's chest, his nose filling with his friend's wonderful scent. "Harry wants to have children," he said softly.

"He also wants Stefan," replied The Phantom just as softly. "You must know that."

Todd nodded, his soft hair brushing against The Phantom's chin. "I just don't want to lose him, Phantom. Yet I know I will."

"Eventually, yes. Either to a woman, or to Stefan." The Phantom held Todd close. "You cannot be Stefan, and you cannot give Harry the children he wants." He held Todd closer, not knowing how he would react to what he was about to say next. "There is also the little matter of the look you gave Cory when he gave Matt a quick feel. I think that it's about time that you admitted how you really feel about Matt."

Surprisingly, Todd did not fly off the handle. He sighed heavily. "Matt is the most beautiful boy I have ever seen. He loves me more than I could ever hope to be loved. He wants to love me, and I know it. He would cherish me unconditionally, and I know it. If I walked into the Gunroom and held out my hand to him he would go with me, and I also know that."

"Then do it, Todd! Go in there and do it! Do it because you know deep down inside you're in love with him; you are as much in love with Matt as he is with you!"

"I can't." Todd pulled slowly away from his best friend. "Phantom, ever since Matt came here I've fought the urge to make love to him. You are right, of course. I do love him. But I love him too much! He's barely 15! He doesn't know what it's like to be gay! I cannot, I will not, take him down that road."

"You wouldn't be taking Matt anywhere. He started down the road we travel a long time ago. He knows exactly what he is. He's not a virgin."

"And how do you know that?" asked Todd, surprised. Matt had never indicated that he'd been with another boy.

"Matt told me," replied The Phantom truthfully. He was not about to go into details. If Matt wanted Todd to know about Marcus, he would tell him. As for what he and Matt had done in Cabin 5 that was between Matt and him. "Matt talks to me. He's told me about his hopes, his dreams, about his feelings for you. What he feels for you is no infatuation, no schoolboy crush."

Todd was more than aware of the true depth of Matt's feelings for him. He had fought his natural inclinations and resisted Matt's obvious moves. He had not lied to Phantom, or to Cory. He loved Matt. He had fallen in love with the boy the first time he had seen him, the night of the wet downs. He had tried to deny the love he felt for Matt, he had tried to convince himself that what Matt felt was a schoolboy crush and would end. His eyes deepened with the sadness he felt. "I love Matt too much," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to spare him the shame, the hurt that he would feel when some jerk called him a fag, or a queer." He shook his head ruefully. "At the end of the day I hurt him and now, Phantom, it is too late."

"Why is it too late?"

"Harry! I'm having an affair with Harry!" exclaimed Todd. "I'm sleeping with Harry who, in his own goofy way, loves me." He gazed with soulful eyes at The Phantom. "I can't just up and tell him that we can't be together because I've finally admitted that I'm actually in love with another boy!"

"Why not?" asked The Phantom, his altruistic nature coming to the fore. "You know he'd drop you in a minute if Stefan were around. Hell, if Stefan were around you and Harry would not be sleeping together!"

Todd reluctantly agreed with The Phantom. Harry would leave him tomorrow if Stefan were of age. He realized all too well - and did not need Phantom to remind him - that Harry's first and only love was the slim, handsome thirteen-year-old. He held out his hand and when The Phantom took it he smiled. "I love you, Phantom, for caring about me, about Cory, and about Matt. I love you for wanting me to be happy. As you love me, please understand that I can't and won't leave Harry. It would not be right."

"Why do you have to be so damned honourable?" grumbled The Phantom.

Todd stood up and pulled his friend to his feet. He kissed The Phantom gently. "For the same reason you are so honourable. Because it's the right thing to be and do."

"So, you'll stay with Harry until he decides that you and he are finished?"

"Yes."

"And Matt?"

Todd turned to enter the Gunroom. "I'll lose him. I know that. He'll find someone and he'll be with him."

"You could . . ."

Todd caught The Phantom's meaning. "No, I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to Harry, or to Matt."

"Then you're a fool," replied The Phantom coldly. Then he smiled and gave Todd a hug. "It's your life. I hope you know what you're doing with it."

"I don't!" said Todd with a small laugh. "If I did I wouldn't be in love with you, Matt, Harry and my brother!"

The Phantom could have continued the argument but decided against it. Todd had admitted his love for Matt. The foundation had been laid. It was better to let things be - for the time being.

In the event, The Phantom had no opportunity to continue with his argument for just as he and Todd were about to enter the doorway leading into the Staff Barracks they heard someone walking briskly down the path. Someone whistling, which was a traditionally forbidden thing for a sailor to do. During the Great Mutiny sailors whistling had signalled the uprising. Whistling on board ship was reserved for the Cook - if he was whistling he wasn't eating the rations.

They watched as the slim figure emerged from the darkness. It was Thumper. Not only was he whistling, he was walking with a jaunty step and had the biggest, shit-eatingest grin on his face that Todd and The Phantom had ever seen. "It's a great night, ain't it, guys?" he said as he passed into the barracks.

Todd and The Phantom exchanged a puzzled look. "He's acting funny," said Todd.

"Maybe Amy Jensen took him into the bushes," replied The Phantom.

"Who?"

The Phantom laughed and started to enter the barracks. "A young lady of my acquaintance who will, I think, after tonight be known in certain cadet venues as 'Hoover'!"